#i doubt anyone's reading these tags. let alone this far

[grimmsbride]

LOVERS ROCK [ daisuke / reader ]

keeping your relationship a secret from your coworkers was no doubt; thrilling. and also, very, very challenging. it didn’t help the two of you just loved to push your limits

tags / ooc characters | semi-public sex (everyone is asleep but still) | reader & daisuke are slightly inexperienced | soft-top daisuke | mentions of marks | cowgirl | dry humping | porn with little plot | they fuck with earbuds in | mentions of the other crew members | fluffy at the beginning | pre-established relationship | sex under the stars.. | pre-crash | chubby & poc coded reader (but anyone is free to read) | i don’t know the exact time period but modern music is mentioned | you guys love holding hands | etc.

notes / #bringbackdryhumping | reader is the same janitor reader in my previous fic (obviously). i got this idea randomly, daisuke seems like the type to take his partner to scenic places for dates. and well.. the nighttime screen is about as scenic as it gets on the tulpar. i hope you enjoy and as usual please excuse any grammar mistakes or typos 🫶🏾. i feel i made him very ooc, i’m used to see daisuke smut being quite submissive to the reader so i wanted to go a different approach.. i think in situations like this he may be a little more confident, especially if his partner is reciprocating to the feeling. if you have any thoughts on the manner let me know <3

The Tulpar was filled with mundane tasks. Wake up, clean, eat, shower, and go back to sleep— a routine that’s been ingrained into your body. A continuous cycle that would have bored you to death without your beloved music. You were grateful for your position, no matter how minuscule, yet you couldn’t deny the wish for something more.

And luckily it came true; in the form of a young man nonetheless.

You weren’t one to mix business and pleasure, it just seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. Coming across Tulpar and the demographic you expected to be on the ship — older people that certainly weren’t your type — you were quite confident you wouldn’t go against your usual code. But alas, you surprised yourself while falling for a certain intern.

As bright eyed and slightly clueless he was, Daisuke was a pocket of sunshine you’ve come to truly adore. Always there when he can be, even if it means a quick kiss when you’re cleaning or a gentle pinch when passing by to remind you of who was in your corner.

Keeping your growing relationship a secret from your coworkers was troublesome but extremely necessary. You couldn’t imagine the expressions the others would display, especially Jimmy who just seemed to be far too eager to stomp on just about anyone's happiness; no matter the size.

Still, you couldn’t deny how thrilling it was at times. Pulling your partner into a quiet dark corner for a few extra kisses, or the secret looks the two of you gave each when in a public setting. The line was thinning longer and longer, close calls increasing as time passed.

And yet here you were, seated upon the living room couch; waiting for your beloved Daisuke.

Usually if the two of you wanted alone time when everyone was asleep you alternated between your bedrooms. At least there, there was a door and bed. But for some reason, Daisuke was adamant on spending some time out here; underneath the pretty nighttime screen.

Your eyes stared up at the blues and whites, head leaning back against the shoulder of the couch as music poured into your ears. Your thumb traced the little device, perfectly at ease.

That was until something delicately traced the back of your neck.

You swallowed a yelp, quickly turning with a jump to glare at the one responsible— who only grinned back at you.

“Daisuke! What if I had yelled?”

You stood up from the couch, watching the man walk around the before waltzing down the little steps. Within two strides he was standing in front of you, glancing down at you with the sweetest smile.

“But you didn't!” Daisuke chuckled the moment you lightly shoved his chest, catching your wrist in time before you could move it away. In doing so, he locked your fingers whilst his free hand went for the earbud occupying one of your ears. Pulling it out, the man then lifted it to his own, bringing himself closer to your form.

You met him, unoccupied hand sliding up to wrap your arm around his waist, laying your head against his chest. Between the melody of his heart beat and Tv Girl running through your ears, you were at complete bliss. As if you could fall asleep right then and there.

The two of you swayed, allowing yourselves to get caught up in each other rather than your surroundings. You felt his free hand sneak underneath your arm, pulling it higher until your hand was on top of his shoulder. After which, Daisuke’s hand found your waist, tugging you even closer and actually adding moves to your swaying.

You snorted softly, mumbling softly about him being corny to which the man only laughed. Silence continued after as the two of you danced slowly, carefully, as to hopefully not alert the others of your rather embarrassing nightly activities.

A step, another, and then a graceful stride. You wondered if Daisuke danced a lot back home. The thought caused you to laugh once again, just in time for your lover to twirl you.

Slithering his arm tighter around your waist, he pulled your back to his front, face being shoved into your neck.

Your eyes peeled open, staring up at the nighttime screen that stared back at you. “Dancing under the stars, huh?..”

“A perfect date.”

You smiled at his words, hand rose to reach back and lightly fuss with his hair. “Yeah, all girls love dancing at work while watching a blown up image of a fake sky.”

Daisuke laughed into your ear, the pitch perfectly going along with the music you shared.

“I told my dad I knew what the ladies wanted.”

You groaned softly, teetering between amusement and playful annoyance. You turned around in his hold, hands rising to hold his warm cheeks.

“You’re corny..”

Daisuke smiled, thumb tracing the small of your back, messing with the fabric of the top you wore. “And lucky for me, you’re into it.” You didn’t need to agree nor deny, given the sweet kiss you pressed to his lips was answer enough. He kneeled to meet you fully, tugging you so close as if wishing to melt into you. Your noses brushed against each other, cold tips warming as you consumed one another. You loved kissing Daisuke, not just because he was your boyfriend but more-so cause he was a damned good kisser.

His lips always moved so slow at first, before slowly picking up the longer you continued. A hand rose from your back to instead cup the back of your head, a shiver running down your spine the moment his fingers traced up your scalp; messing in your hair.

So desperate.. you two always were. The thought of any interruptions spurred you on to always savor each and every moment with as much as passion as possible.

And it seemed the both of you intended to do just that, as — ever so carefully — Daisuke walked backwards, leading you with him. Once close enough he was descending to the couch, taking you with him by the waist and pulling you onto his lap.

The two of you broke apart for a moment, gulping up the air around you greedily before smashing your lips together with even more vigor. Your hands were clutching his shoulders at this point, suddenly being reminded Daisuke wasn’t just some clueless man.

You shivered as you felt his hand glide, intruding your top to lay his fingers upon your warm skin. With each interlock of your tongues his fingers were digging into your flesh, a soft whine being pushed from his throat into your mouth. The sound alone caused your thighs to clench, moving carefully in his lap.

Which of course, was met with a hiss and a quick squeeze. You questioned this for a moment, before quickly realizing why it happened in the first place.

This only caused you to smile against him, lowering your hips fully before dragging them against him slowly.

Daisuke was off your lips in minutes, hands falling to your waist as a hushed groan escaped his bruised lips.

“Here?..” The man spoke gently, eyes flicking from between your bodies before back to your face. His eyebrows furrowed as you continued your languid drags, biting the inside of his cheek nervously.

You nodded slowly, leaning closer to press your lips to his ear. “Mhm.. here.”

“Then.. I want to feel— more. Please.” His words were sweet, allowing them to settle in the air for a moment before his fingers were curling to tug at your pants, allowing you to get the message. You stood up rather quickly, pushing your pants down and off, the bottoms pooling at your ankles.

You watched as Daisuke did the same, now only in plain boxers, a funny contrast to the gaudy everyday shirt he usually wore.

Stepping out of your pants, you caught his hands as you made your way back to his lap, brushing your clothed cunt right against his growing bulge as you sat down. It was your time to whine as you felt him through your thin fabrics, Daisuke capturing your lips rather quickly afterwards.

Slowly, you began that same languid pace, gripping his shoulders for stability as you dragged your hips back and forth.. back and forth. His nails were digging into your thighs, meeting your movement with a small, desperate thrust. Moans passed between the two of you, warmth, and music mixing into a sensation that you could only describe as euphoria.

Dramatic sure, but what else could you call it, exactly?

“Could come.. ju—just from this.” Daisuke mumbled the moment the two of you broke apart for air, his face falling to your neck to stamp wet kisses to your skin. He was gentle not to focus too much on a single area, worrying about leaving behind a mark. Though, it seemed rather contradictory given the location the two of you chose for your.. fun.

You were aching, panties surely soaked with arousal as that itch grew. You could only pant in his ear, unsure how exactly this felt so good. Maybe it was pent up, a mixture of stress and the misfortune of lack of alone time. Regardless, it wasn’t your job to figure it out at the moment.

The only job you had right now was to continue to chase this feeling, for as long as you could.

Daisuke pulled you closer if humanly possible, hips rising up from the couch as he ground up into you. He wasn’t lying early, despite zero actual contact he could feel himself twitching— begging for release. The effect you had on him was far too great, after all.

Desperate breaths escaped you, thighs shaky yet yearning for more. His touch, everything, you wanted to feel it all. Your fingers rose to curl into his hair, leaning into his ear as the softest more, dropped from your tongue.

Your words spurred him, fingers squeezing your flesh, nails tracing against those pretty marks that lined your hips.

“You want more?.. Of course, whatever you want.”

Daisuke could never deny you, no matter how small the request was. In minutes he was tugging his boxers down to his thighs, hand lazily dragging across his length. It was a pretty color, lighter than him, with a mole on the under side of his shaft.

The man then reached with his other hand to curl his finger on your panty, tugging it to the side and exposing your soft cunt to his hand. For a moment his finger gently circled your hardened bud, enjoy the pleasant noises you struggled to keep down.

But soon enough he was becoming as desperate as you, helping you position carefully, rubbing his weeping tip against your clit. Daisuke hissed, continuing to coat his dick in your arousal before finding your entrance, lining up, and raising his hips to push himself inside.

The both of you groaned, your eyes pinched closed as you sunk down. Your walls wrapped around his length perfectly, swallowing him up and keeping him deep inside. With each breath you released you clenched, causing the young man under you to struggle to keep his mind straight. Daisuke couldn’t help being so inexperienced, and well.. neither could you, given you felt a single movement would be enough to push you over the edge.

Your eyes slowly opened, gaze falling to his face, taking the time to map out his expression. Would it be corny to call him beautiful? Was it corny to find your lover beautiful in a such state? Under your mercy, as close as biologically possible? Maybe.. but you didn’t dwell on it long, instead deciding to graze your palms across his cheeks, thumbs coming to trace the moles on either side.

“I love you.”

Your words were earnest, laced with the sweetest honey. You smiled, watching his own signature smile cross his face, perfectly. Like any other time.

Daisuke pulled you even closer, a grip to your thigh as he leaned to just a breath’s away.

“See. Now you’re the corny one.”

Your lover swallowed the pretty laughter threatening to leave your chest, all smiles as his arms wrapped around your waist. Once tucked close and snug, his hips, the small thrust enough for the both of you to sigh into the other’s mouth.

Soon enough your knees were pressing against the cushions, hips rising and falling into his lap. With each drop, wet skin smacked against each other, certainly a worrying sound but the two of you seemed to no longer care.

You were too caught up in each other anyway.

Your fingers curled into his silky locks, crying out into his mouth as he stirred you up deeply. His length hit each spot perfectly, a mold made specifically for you. And what’s more, the moment a hand snaked under your skirt to drag his thumb across your nipple— you began to see stars.

Daisuke groaned into you, meeting each drop of your hips with desperate thrusts. You felt so good, way too good. He tried to keep his voice down as to avoid alerting the others, and hear you. You just sounded far too good to ignore.

Your shaky breaths, the way your voice pitched whenever his tip brushed against that special spot — don’t even get him started on the gasps you made when Daisuke went, just a little too deep. Alas he couldn’t focus on the growing list of reasons for his obsession you; bringing you complete pleasure was the main objective.

“You’re clenching me.. you’re going to come, aren’t you?” Daisuke drawled against your lips, pressing a kiss to them before dragging his own over to your ear. Each pant and groan hit it directly, the man at this point helping you rise and fall upon his cock.

“I want you to finish.. all over me.”

“Daisuke—!”

“Not so loud..” The intern spoke in a soft rasp, squeezing you close as his end grew closer. “I don’t need the others to hear you like this. It’s on—only for me, yeah?”

You shook your head rapidly, lip nearly bleeding from how hard you were biting down, your fingers digging into his shoulders— sure to leaves marks despite the shirt he wore.

Within moments you were seeing white, clutching him as you fulfilled his wish. Your arousal coated his dick and thighs, making a sticky mess that was surely on the couch by now.

Daisuke swore under his breath, bringing you onto his lap in one final thrust before filling you up. Luckily he remembered you took the pill as to regulate your period.

The two of you panted, in sync with each other and the music that seemed to still be blasting in your ears. How exactly your earbuds sustained that erratic movement, you will never know nor question.

You pulled back to glance at Daisuke, spotting the man already looking at you, smiling brightly.

You rolled your eyes, glancing down at the space between your two bodies.

“This is going to be so annoying to clean.”

Daisuke stifled his laughter, pulling you into a tight hug, eyes shining whilst he stared up at the screen;

“Maybe… I love you too, [Name].”

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 22

Prompt: Stormy Night

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, not beta read, kissing, confessions (sorta), holding hands, sharing drinks, slight angst

Summary: You show the God of thunder your favourite spot to watch the lightning

Word Count: 2k+ (2054)

A/N: I am a big lover of thunder and lightning, I find the stormy weather really relaxing 💜 This was originally meant to be short and sweet but whoops my hand slipped and now it's over 2k ... - Love, Grem x Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

Prev | Next |Masterlist

Raining cats and dogs was the understatement of the century. It was raining a whole zoo as far as you were concerned, and quite frankly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

Wind bellowed and howled through the compound, battering against the windows. You could still see the faint outline of the trees whipping violently in the winds through the rain and darkness thanks to the occasional flash of lightning.

Tonight was perfect.

You were in your fluffiest, most cosy pyjamas, nursing a mug of cocoa and shuffling quietly through the compound, to your favourite spot. You knew everyone would be busy; Tony and Bruce in the labs, if Vision wasn't with them he'd be with Wanda and vice versa, Steve, Bucky, Sam and Nat would be training somewhere no doubt and Clint would have headed home to his family (or perhaps he was stuck in the vents again).

Peace and quiet, for one lovely evening.

"HELLO Y/N!" Thor bellowed excitedly, spotting you as he exited his room. The scream you let out was horror movie worthy and you thankfully didn't spill any cocoa. You couldn't tell if you were offended that FRIDAY or anyone else in the compound didn't hear the scream and come running to your aid.

"Hey Thor," You smile weakly at him, feeling embarrassed at both forgetting him and screaming with fear. Thor just continues to beam at you pleasantly. The God of Thunder was a dazzling ray of sunshine; who knew?

Thor eyes your mug of cocoa and your pyjamas. "Are you heading to bed Y/N? Apologies for frightening you."

You shuffle a little awkwardly. You don't want to lie to him but you don't want it to come off as strange. Thor just smiles down at you, his giant self keeping you in his shadow. Wasn't Loki supposed to be the giant?

"It's alright. And, um, no. Not exactly."

Thor raises an eyebrow at you curiously and your stomach flips. Heat builds in your cheeks and you look away bashfully. He was stupidly handsome, but then you supposed he was a god after all.

It takes you a moment to find your voice again when you realise Thor is waiting for you to continue.

"I'm going up to the roof." You say with a small shrug.

"In this weather?" He asks, as a gust of wind smacks a sheet of rain onto the windows. Thor looks back at you confused, looking at your pyjamas. "And dressed like that?"

You wiggle your feet in your comically fluffy slippers. You weren't exactly dressed for the weather, but your hiding place always kept you dry.

"I..." you begin and then shake your head. "It's hard to explain without the visuals. But I'll be fine. This is my favourite kind of weather."

Thor breaks into another smile and you find you're smiling back.

"Really?" He stands a little straighter, prouder, hands on his hips. "It's mine as well."

"You are the God of Thunder," You chuckle. "I don't know why that's such a surprise."

You regard him for a moment, weighing up your options. On the one hand, you can bid him good night and head to your hiding place alone. On the other, you could spend more time with Thor.

Yeah. Option two was better.

"Come with me," you say suddenly, jerking your head behind you. You move to walk in the direction of the stairwell.

"Are you sure?" Thor asks, taking two small steps and closing the distance between you. "I don't want to intrude."

Your heart melts at the gentle giant before you, further solidifying your decision to bring him with you.

"Very sure. It's just up past the stairs."

The stairwell was quiet, save for the rain. Saying that, they were always quiet. Why use stairs when you had elevators? Or powers? Or an iron suit that could fly?

They were still required for health and safety though.

You sipped at your cocoa, treading up the concrete stairs to the door that lead to the roof. Your legs burned with the excersise but Thor seemed nonplussed and thankfully didn't make much of a fuss of how easy it was for him.

The door rattled with the wind and you huffed as you pushed down on the handle, edging out into the wind. You struggled against the door, the wind pushing back fiercely. Thor's large palm appears next to your head and pushes the door gently, sending it flying open. Meanwhile you get a face full of rain.

"Sorry!" Thor gushes as he follows you through the door. You sprint through the rain across the roof top with Thor close behind, to small building on the other side. Your cocoa is significantly more watered down by the time you fling open the door, half dragging Thor inside.

With Thor in the small cabin-like building it seems more like a broom closest. There's a beaten down sofa with a musty blanket and a small unit with radios, a microwave, mugs, a kettle and a mini fridge hidden beneath it. You'd guess it was a little cubby hole that was meant for monitoring in case of the worst, but it seemed forgotten about. Anytime it rained or stormed and thundered or if you just needed a break away from people - this was your go-to place.

"You're not allowed to tell the others about this place," You tell Thor, setting your mug down to tousle some of the rain out of your hair. Your eyes flicker back to him and you see that he's studying the small space. "It'll be our secret. Want a drink?"

Thor smiles over to you at the notion of you both sharing a secret but he shakes his head at your offer. "No thanks, not right now." He pauses, looking at the ceiling with wonder as a particularly heavy sheet of rain pounds against the roof. The roof was metal but the cubby was made from concrete breezeblocks, so you were under no threat of being killed by lightning. But it was that metal roof that made rainfall sound like gunfire, echoing around the small room.

Thor's eyes close and he sighs, making you smile softly.

"Nice, right?" You say, taking a seat on the sofa, pressing yourself as far into the arm as you possibly can to give him space.

"It's relaxing," He says appreciatively, taking the other end of the sofa, carefully avoiding touching you. You don't speak for a few minutes, focusing solely on the sound of the rain and then...

A flash of light illuminates the room followed closely by the unmistakable roar of thunder. You smile in the direction of the small window and once there's silence again, you speak.

"I like being close to it like this," You murmur. Thor hums in agreement, although you don't notice that he's looking at you. "I've never felt more at peace when the weather is like this."

That earns you a deep chuckle, that sounds coincidentally similar to the thunder outside. "You're probably the only one who thinks that."

"Maybe." You shrug, giving him a grin from over your mug. "But I love it all the same."

Thor shifts a little in his seat, raking his hands through damp, golden locks. "I've had it all day from Stark." He confesses. "He thinks it's my fault we have this weather."

You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly. It would make sense. Again, God of Thunder after all. "Is it?"

Thor looks sheepish. "Not on purpose."

You snort a laugh and another lightning flashes, closer this time, with another growl of thunder. You miss how Thor's cheeks turn pink in the white light from outside.

"Not on purpose?" You say excitedly. "Do you always control the weather like this?"

"No," He clears his throat. "Sometimes I just amplify it."

You nod sagely. "That's pretty cool. Well, thank you for amplifying this," You gesture to the window shaking in its pane. "This is the best storm I've had in a long time."

Lighting and thunder strike again and you shiver involuntarily.

"You know, I'm not counting the seconds between thunder, but the lighting seems to be getting awfully close." You shoot a look at Thor. "Do you think-"

Another flash and roar.

"Do you think we're in the eye of the storm?" You finish, silently hoping that that's what it was and that you didn't just bring an electrical conduit less than a foot away from you.

Thor nods but he's looking directly at you now, studying your face every time there's a flash of light. When you shiver again, he pulls the musty blanket from behind you both and tosses it over both of your legs. You mumble your thanks, watching the window to see if you can see the lightning strike. Another comfortable bout of silence falls between you and you sigh dreamily listening to the rain.

You don't move away when you feel Thor's fingers tentatively reach for yours, or when his hand rests on top of yours. Your heart does somersaults, though. The unspoken moment is far better this way. You turn your palm upwards, still watching the rain, and when Thor goes to move his hand away, you're already interlacing your fingers with his.

The lightning is brighter than it was before, the thunder is louder and the heat in your cheeks rises tenfold as you realise that the weather is reacting to how Thor is feeling. To test your theory, you squeeze his large hand in yours and, sure enough, thunder blares loudly with another lightning flash.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back a smile as you look over at him. Thor has sunk into the pillows, hiding his beet red face with his free hand. You squeeze his hand again for funsies and he peeks out behind his hand with the most adorable puppy-dog eyes you had ever seen as lightning flashes.

"It's embarrassing," He flusters unprompted. "Do you know how often we would have thunderstorms when I was small?"

"I don't think you've ever been small," You tease and Thor gives you a shaky grin.

"Every time I cried or had a tantrum - thunder and lightning." He huffs, displeased. "Everyone hated it, apart from my Loki who found it hilarious."

You squeeze his hand again, no thunder this time, as Thor looks solemn; homesick.

Thor looks over to you again with a smile and you feel your heart melt and break all at once. No wonder he was always a little ray of sunshine; he was terrified of being hated for something he couldn't quite control.

"What's a little rain?" You shrug, offering a reassuring smile. You offer your luke-warm-but-really-almost-cold mug of cocoa to him and he takes a gracious sip before handing it back. You're both leaning a little closer now, hands still clasped together, watching each other.

"You're something else," He chuckles. "Another odd human. I see why you've stuck around."

"You have too," You point out, nudging him lightly. "You're just as odd as us, I'm afraid."

You brush a lock of stray hair glued to his face and tuck it behind his ear gently, your palm not quite leaving his cheek. His cheek is warm under your palm and you could have sworn you felt static. Your eyes meet and your heart skips - just as there's another flash of lightning. You smile. Thor smiles back sheepishly. Then you do something unexpected. You lean that little bit closer and nervously press your lips against his.

The sound that erupts from beyond the clouds is deafening. The light is blinding - so much so you're sure aliens have come to abduct you. Or well, maybe a god has.

Oh, and that was definitely static you were feeling. As you move back to take a breath you can feel your lips tingling with electricity, your whole body vibrating with a current and wattage you've never felt before. Thor looked like he was experiencing the same thing, just a lot more shocked (if you'll excuse the pun).

"Will that happen every time I kiss you?" You giggle, squeezing his rough hand again.

"I suppose we will just have to find out." Thor grinned, his heart skipping along to the beat of thunder outside.

[multifandomfix]

Hearth & Home — Narcissa Malfoy

Summary: You find yourself alone this Christmas, but so does Narcissa and she’s not about to let that stand.

Word Count: 486

Warnings: Some angst, but a happy ending

Darkness had fallen as you sat on a bench in Diagon Alley, lost in thought as a quiet melancholy settled within you as you contemplated spending the holiday season alone. The lamplight was your only friend, it seemed, saving you from being swallowed up in total darkness. The festive decorations all around seemed to mock your solitude. Just as despair began to take root, a shop door creaked open, revealing Narcissa Malfoy.

"Narcissa, what brings you here?" you asked, surprised to see anyone still out at this hour. Though, honestly, you weren’t even a hundred percent sure how much time you’d passed out here yourself.

She offered a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her sad eyes. “Passing the time, I suppose. With Draco grown and Lucius…” Narcissa trailed off, recalling the bitter divorce earlier that year. You’d read about it in the Daily Prophet, but didn’t mention it.

“No one should be alone for the holidays,” you said instead, the sentiment a true enough one in your heart. “I find myself in a similar situation. Perhaps we could spend Christmas together?"

Grateful for the unexpected company, Narcissa accepted your kind offer, then making one of her own. “You’re welcome to come to my home and stay, at least through the holidays.” It was your turn to smile now and you let Narcissa lead you to her home, far more modest than Malfoy Manor, no doubt, but tastefully decorated and it seemed to suit her.

As you both settled in by the crackling fire, Narcissa spoke gently, sharing stories from happier Christmases past and you did the same, helping the both of you to ease that loneliness that had threatened to consume you. The warmth of her presence was a Christmas blessing if there ever was one.

As the evening unfolded, Narcissa gave you a full tour of her home, garland and ornaments giving the place a festive feel. You were finally starting to feel like you should at the holidays; grateful, cheerful and dare you say loved?

The tour concluded back at the hearth. Above the mantel hung a sprig of mistletoe that hadn’t escaped your notice. Narcissa followed your eyes, landing on the plant she’d forgotten that she put up. She was hardly expecting the tradition to arise this year. But, as she took a moment to think about it, her gaze fell back to you. A tender smile played on her lips, and in that moment, she decided that, though it may have been unplanned, the tradition could certainly continue.

Without a word, Narcissa closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. You met her kiss eagerly, returning it, as you pulled her closer. The crackling of the fire and the soft glow of the fairy lights that surrounded you seemed to dance in celebration of your newfound connection, turning a lonely holiday into a memory to cherish.

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @nclgsticore, @ayanthegreat28, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @bitchr-mkay, @sparrowspixie

Narcissa Malfoy: @iticaboopsyou, @brienneseveruscalaway, @riveranddoctorsong123, @whither-the-wind-goes, @bluenystic, @reminiscent-of-sentiment, @unexpected-character, @ppgrayson, @becomingthedreamversionofme, @bloodinthedarksworld, @gothtrash6969, @jona-lea, @music-bird, @fairyfaefiction, @chaotic-mushroomz, @iciclesandsnow, @thenazwife, @animeloverfreak310, @m-rae23, @asocialrandom, @404-its-alr, @beyondgaby, @scarlettmal, @ayyy-lety, @wynt3rrr, @geekyandgay98, @pink-sunrise-56, @sweetyprincesschaos, @mindfullofnothingbutyou, @witchthewriter, @anarrowtotheknee, @thekirbishow, @lannister-apologist

[oh-saints]

sweetest devotion (p.8)

they did start this whole circus with a marriage of conveniences. little did mason and serena know was how convenient they had become during this marriage…

playboy!mason mount x princess!OC wc: 3.5k tw:  only as warned under masterlist but none for this chapter, except for a long read ahead! note: I am deeply apologetic for delaying this for far too long, but a virus came into me and almost paralysed me. but an excuse is an excuse, and a promise is a promise so here you go! the long-awaited chapter for our favourite star-crossed couple and I hope this made up for all the times you miss mason x serena. but as usual, I happen to have inspirations whenever dawn is approaching so this is not proof-read yet! tags: @pingyu-in-wonderland @808heartz @ironmaiden1313 @myreveriie @kathb59 (let me know if you want to be added!) < part 7 here - part 9 TBA (hopefully within the next 2 weeks) sweetest devotion masterlist

if, when mason decided to step on the throttle and married serena earlier this year, any of you shot mason in the head with the fact that mason would get along very well with serena on the last trimester of her pregnancy, mason would spit in your face. without a doubt, without hesitation.

“i need your help,”

such simplistic sentence was not supposed to do any harm to mason’s body, but it did—it always does, without his consent—and the footballer had to regulate his breathing to conceal the devastating effect serena effortlessly brought upon him.

being amicable with serena was never in his bingo cards. let alone this.

mason mount was only supposed to partake his share of responsibility towards his own child. the fact that he might be able to save serena from an impending death sentence, should she be discovered with a child out of wedlock, was a bonus.

naturally, with that in mind and a divorce at the end of the deal, he didn’t expect to be more than co-parenting partners at best.

“what is it?”

but now, he could only count his blessing amongst the stars, for no one had shot him with such incredulous prediction of his future, so mason didn’t have to apologize to anyone for having spat on their face. because mason and serena was co-habitating even better than expected, way much better than even the both of them would like to admit.

“i can’t reach for the pan.”

mason laughed a genuine one, the warmth replacing the initial electric shock. serena frowned a deeper pout, adding more heat all over mason’s body despite firing up the furnace earlier, resulting mason to plaster a wide smile still on his face as he did what he was instructed. “there you go, princess.”

they weren’t supposed to fall into this—whatever “this” might be. the sense of familiarity, comfort… all mixed up in one unknown territory they didn’t want to explore but know well enough that they had plunged themselves in.

as much as they denied themselves from the reality, though, they had indeed deviated from their own terms of being amicable. they had certainly gotten themselves more comfortable around each other than intended; it was as if they had found the rhythm on their feet and had fallen together into a song to dance together. serena cooks, mason grocery-shops. mason drives everywhere, serena massages him before they retreat to their respective bedroom. mason plays a home game, serena watches from the family box. serena has a foot aching or swollen, mason is ready with a warm-water footbath. serena catches an occasional or residual morning sickness, mason knows where the ginger crackers are. mason talks, serena listens.

what a contrary to the so-called first dance they displayed for the rest of the world to believe. back then, serena was lucky to not have stepped on mason’s tom ford shoes, and mason was saved from critics highlighting his luckster steps ripping off the train of serena’s reception gown. that night, serena decided it might actually be better to have god save the princess instead as an alternate title to eldorran national anthem.

but despite the level of this newfound friendliness established between the two of them, there was still an enormous elephant in the room.

where are they in this relationship?

that is, if there was ever a sufficient word to describe their relationship. yes, they were married but are they a couple? if not, were they friends or were they just roommates?

mason would like to think the first one—for him, roommates were simply acquittances that could care less about other person’s whereabouts, and surely with the extent they had gone through together wasn’t merely hi, how are you? basis—but more often than not, serena did make him feel the reality was that mason was indeed still walking around the eggshells.

there were times when serena made him feel he was one step forward, two steps backwards. for example; while mason was more than happy to be labelled the yapping boyfriend per today’s standard of couple compatibility, serena was, in nature, a reserved person who speaks only when deemed necessary, so to have her sharing bits of her life while he was away for work could be seen as making a wide stride of progress. but in comparison to the earlier times when their communication was rather limited to texts—or rather, mason had limited their interaction—serena was far more welcoming then, in a sense that she was willing to inform him where she was going and whatnot when they were still practically strangers.

case two was, unfortunately, the most ironic of all.

mason and serena had made a habit to retreat to the living room after dinner, for whatever reason. be it simply watching the latest movie they didn’t have the chance to catch up, be it mason gaming while serena continued her journaling, be it serena accompanying mason while he was up to review the approach of an upcoming game, be it to have a light discussion about nursery, the upcoming doctor’s visit.

bottom line, the living room had turned into a shared premise for them, yet serena had never once invited mason over to her mini piano recital.

you might wonder why was mason upset over such a small—meaningless even for some—matter. but when your housemate bid you farewell for the night, only to sneak up the owner of the house later into the night to use the grand piano by the stairs—courtesy to his interior designer, who decided it’d be a nice sentimental touch to contrast the masculine theme of his house—it posed so many questions. not to mention, serena was annihilating the keys, madly punching the notes like she was screaming, very much unfit to the elegant divinire by Ludovico Einaudi.

mason had to give it to serena, though, for choosing this road. because others—most of the population, really—would only think she’s blessed with a musical talent, playing the black-and-white keys as if glue was stuck on the pads of her fingers, when in reality she was anything but destroying the classical piece.

layered with complexity, exactly like serena in person.

the next morning, mason woke up with a full determination to confront serena about it. only to be greeted by a sight of her mildly swollen eyes—mason might not be the brightest kid at school but her sisters made sure he was the top of class in the subject of “women 101”—so he’d forego whatever words about to be spilled on the tip of his tongue.  

but later, mason realised, he was glad he never made it known that he’d overheard her stellar performance. another night she’d sit down on the giant musical instrument and played a beautiful piece mason recognized from the black swan, yet it was mesmerizing for all the wrong reason. he remembered she’d gotten a call earlier from a palace, and her face expression had become sombre a bit, probably due to whatever the palace was saying.

he concluded that it had moulded into a pattern of habit whenever she was having a bad day—a way to let out her frustration. so mason stayed put, afraid he’d only distract serena. or worse, destroying her concentration flow. she worked hard to conceptualize this whole recital anyway, why should he ruin it?

other times when this happened, he’d sat on top of the stairs, hidden behind the nearest wall, as the princess took over the grandiose piano. and he had never recalled any other time when he failed to show up whenever she played her version of rendition to a modern classic piece because he knew it was serena’s only outlet to be herself. full of hidden angers and oppressed opinions, unable to express the way she truly feels because of all the royal restriction. in a way, he wanted to be there for her—good days, bad days, every day.

what a regal way to do so, whilst mason was the type to punch away the sandbag at the gym.

still, if her outmost genuine concern was not to disturb mason, and thus the midnight choice of time, she was certainly wrong. if serena thought mason would miss the elegant tunes flowing as the production result of her dainty fingers dancing on those black-and-white keys, she was certainly over-confident. mason might not be the mozart prodigy but he knows when one is supposed to depict sadness and anything alike.

but why would she conceal something as beautiful as that?

on another take, if she indeed didn’t want mason to know her habit: why? or was that why the notes she’d play was always heart-wrenchingly beautiful? because she didn’t want mason to hear anything whatever she had to say without words? because she didn’t want mason to know her deepest, most hidden secret that she was never happy here in the first place, no matter how hard mason had been trying to provide everything in this earthly realm in order to make her happier and healthier?

why didn’t she say anything, about anything at all really? in whatever relationship is—friendship, kinship—it always takes two to tango. and right now, serena was an even worse dance partner than their reception night.

just until when were they going to tango around the room, spinning endlessly?

“that was one hell of a performance.”

serena visibly jumped on her seat behind the piano, her eyes immediately looked for the source of sound. “mason,” she remained still, as she watched mason coming nearing her position. “do i wake you up?”

“no, i was only falling asleep when you started,”

“oh, no, i apologize—”

“no, no, no, i always like it whenever you play,” realising the slip of tongue that this was not the first time he’d heard her, mason might as well let out the remaining of the truth. “i like how you look when you play. free—of pressure, of opinions, of judgement… of the world, really. nothing else but you.”

there was a flash of surprise and fear. an equivalence of deer in the headlight in royal etiquette, mason presumed, before she turned away her head. “sounds like a selfish person to me.”

“if you’re a selfish person then you would’ve aborted our son the first moment you found out about him,” the speed of mason’s retaliation took serena by surprise. “but you didn’t. and that’s what i like about you, too.”

the amount of the word like coming out of mason’s mouth was seriously concerning serena. they were not supposed to like each other—amicable was what they agreed upon in the first place, given the situation and condition.

“can’t sleep?”

serena shook her head in response to mason’s question while her fingers reached for the cover of the piano, wanting to shut the lid and took her leave.

her intention had to be cancelled as mason took his spot beside her. “how are you feeling about tomorrow?”

ah, yes. the day she had been dreading.

tomorrow was the day serena had to fly back to eldorra, for her oldest brother’s wedding and her father’s abdication. the festivities wasn’t supposed to kick off until 5 days later, but serena had decided to fly in earlier because she thought she needed time to adjust back to the nitty-gritties of royal etiquettes, protocol and other royal affairs. it was a reasonable justification, both in the eyes of the palace and mason, considering she’d been away from the princess lifestyle for rather a while now, technically alone in London and bereft of any relatives but mason, both from his side of the family and especially hers.

in all honesty, serena was content with her life here, away from the spotlight and the pressure of a royal member. it was rather a life she’d been wishing to have since she was teenager. contrary to her image and popular belief that she was the friendliest member of the eldorran royal family, she wasn’t as good at mingling with any figure connected with power, politics and whatnot as she was mingling with her people.

an entire sequence of traditions was coming her way—for a wedding, abdication and coronation—so the level of social anxiety was guaranteed skyrocketing. this would mean mingling, meaningless chitchats, keeping two-faces intact, answering intruding questions, addressing false allegations, greeting and faking smiles to gold-digger spouses and so-called socialites FOR DAYS. good lord in heavens, please give me enough strengths to truck the atrocious days alone.

“are you sure you are not coming, mason?”

ah, yes. the breaking news, so shocking it headlined the eldorran gossip channels and tv programs for a week straight.

mason’s professional commitments required him to fly with his football club for an important match for several days, which coincidentally happened to fall during the series of pre-events leading to the wedding day of her brother. his attendance on the wedding day itself, the abdication and the coronation remained hanging for the public to guess—but they knew better.

the king, serena’s father, still harboured an ill feeling towards his only son-in-law. … mason didn’t even protest on that, given it was the prerogative of the king anyway, but her father made it well-known from their very first meeting in chelsea’s training ground that they’d never have a particular in-laws normalcy. mason remembered it very well, for he’d never been in the presence of a great power and authority flowing throughout the room that he’d wavered a little behind the mask he displayed.

mason flashed serena a bitter smile. “you know the answer to that, princess.”

“there is an answer to that, too, mason,” serena said, offering mason a slight grasp over his hand. “we can always use this special card of ours.”

the sight of serena looking down at her protruding belly, now unable to be hidden under various designs and styling, as her free hand stroking the ball of sunshine, never failed to warm mason’s entire body and soul. he would always feel warm and giddy, and proud and glad serena and their son was doing well each and every day, despite the rocky start.

“i’ll miss that when you’re away. you, playing the piano,” while another hand stroked gently over serena’s stomach, mason turned his occupied palm around to grip hers tightly, interlacing their fingers for the first time in forever. “i’ll miss this, too.”

“well—”

“i’ll miss you.”

what they had was orthodoxically special, indeed.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

the house feels empty

serena didn’t know the exact time and place where this all had begun, the random texts. the timeline had become blurry since they had progressed into a friendlier terms, coming from a chain of texts that was similar to the ones shared between the owner of a house and its renter. but it had indeed become something she looked forward to during the day, a glimpse of how his day went so far—ben snores so much it hurts my ears; azpi’s so irritating in training today; or such. it filled a small space in her heart, longing for a dear friend.

but since the i’ll miss you happened, serena would be lying if she didn’t think that mason’s words were laced with something else. something beyond friendship, something she was afraid to find out, something she’d like to think non-existent so they could continue their beneficial partnership until their son was born.

in case you forget, your sound system is top notch.

act calm as usual, the head of royal etiquette always reminded her in cases where she faced a micro crisis. thus, her reply just now. she’d slip in a banter or two whenever mason sent her any text of grumbles, complaints, grunts on a usual basis.

as calm as she was, serena had to place a hand over her chest, exactly on top of her beating heart that was running rather irregularly now, while her other hand was busy slipping her phone discreetly back to her meticulously customised purse and her attention back to the ongoing discussion between two young heirs in front of her.

but of course, when she felt her phone vibrated again not long after sending her reply, serena couldn’t help but to succumb to temptation. she retreated to the corner of the room and hands were immediately reaching for the electronic device.

it’s still not the same you’re not here

for a full ten seconds, serena remained a statue. the only sign she was alive was the wide grin plastered across her face that the princess herself didn’t realise was there to begin with.

ah, shame we’re miles apart then.

it didn’t take a minute before another bubble popped up.

what if I tell you we’re no longer apart?

serena’s heart jumped from its long hibernation—she’d successfully managed to sedate them into a peaceful sleep during her time training again her old motoric as a royal princess—but she tried very hard to mask the stallion pace it was giving.

because in all honesty, serena would be lying if she didn’t wish mason was here by her side. the last state banquet she attended with mason a while back was enough of a proof that having an ally was better than no one at all. even when they weren’t exactly in the best term back then, and apart from the fact that he was only there to fulfil his end of deal.

should she mention the immense assurance she felt whenever mason’s hands were on her back, placed strategically to guide her through the maze of people wanting to formally greet her, or whenever mason’s hands were extended to reach her waist protectively while one or two people were ready to step on her feet?

alas, hope is a very powerful weapon and she’d wish not to yield it. not towards mason, at least. but before she could type out her reply to his text, her phone beeped once more and another blue bubble had popped up on her screen.

look around.

despite the early internal battle, serena did as she was told. and there he was, mason mount, looking dapper as ever with a complete, tailored suit like every other man in this ballroom—which should mean by fellow aristocrats, socialites, political figures amongst others. maybe mason was even more dashing than the rest of them because good god, his smiles as he greeted every one he met along the way down to reach serena…

it was polite but full of implied sneer, it was handsomely irritating somehow. it was captivatingly powerful too on the other hand, enough to put all the gossip and rumours spread by the palace down. it was a plain challenge to the king’s authority that didn’t allow him to be here in the first place without giving away too much insider information away.

“hello, there,” the multimillion-watt smile wasn’t wavering anytime soon, serena inferred, as he finally stopped his steps in front of her. now that he stood so close to her, she could see a thousand layers of emotion unravelling, but one thing struck more than other: he was very happy, with a bit of relief, that he was here. and that was enough of a reason for serena to reciprocate his—somehow, unbeknowingly—wider grin because she, in fact, shared the same sentiment.

for the first time in her life, despite being trained to stand up for herself diplomatically so, serena thermapolis was beyond elated to have found a true ally in this room full of fake courtesies, and that ally was her husband, no less. her stunning husband, fawned by several ladies in the background, whom she had grown more than fond of, with or without her acknowledgement, was here and that was all that mattered.

and the awful part was mason didn’t know what he did just obliterated her poor heart and rendered her speechless.

“you look like you could use a company. may i join you this evening?”

[lightofraye]

do you ever think just for a little bit, that you might be wrong?

having so many angry people come and tell you that you're wrong, doesn't that make you doubt yourself?

if you were a little bit more humble and a little less entitled, you would consider that you are human too, therefore you're just as prone to making mistakes as anyone else.

maybe you should research better your sources, some of the people you've been talking to have said before that they just like to rile people up, they've admited to making up stuff just for fun.

you also have a dignosed sociopath among your sources, which means they cannot understand emotions.

there's also a troll in disguise, who brags about making people like you believe anything, and then laughs their ass of when you people start making theories based on their bs.

seriously, is it that crazy to believe that Jensen really loves the woman he married?

Hello anon.

You asked a lot here, and I first want to thank you for actually being respectful and polite about it. I don't think I'm being attacked for sharing speculation so much as these particular fans took offense that I'm pointing out that Jensen is, well, an imperfect human. And they didn't have to read my posts--that's just it. Why does it matter if a lone, small-time blogger, is saying something opposite of what they think and feel? I'm not hunting them down, am I? No. I stick to my little corner here.

Okay. Now that's out of the way... let's address what you said.

do you ever think just for a little bit, that you might be wrong?

All the time. It's called being an imperfect human. Not just about Jensen, about everything. Hell, in one screenplay I've been writing on and off (based in the late 1800s) I actually consult my historian daughter-in-law. I'm not joking either.

having so many angry people come and tell you that you're wrong, doesn't that make you doubt yourself?

A dozen--and this is me being generous because their identity is protected through the anonymous feature--of people being pissed at me is not "many" and no... it wouldn't.

Now, if they had concrete proof of anything that I said was wrong, I would actually retract what I said. When it was already pointed out to me that I got an Austin property and the Colorado condo incorrect, I apologized right in the open! When I get a piece of fact wrong, I do apologize. Even if it killed me.

So far, I haven't really seen anything concrete that says I'm wrong. And no, sadly, "Jensen said so!" is not enough. Not when a lot of what he's said is contradictory or an outright lie. (Example: Prequelgate.)

if you were a little bit more humble and a little less entitled, you would consider that you are human too, therefore you're just as prone to making mistakes as anyone else.

Please point out where I arrogantly stated that I knew better than anyone. That I alone knew better than anyone. Please. I beg you. And "entitled" is a strong word, but I'll roll with it. Because... I am entitled to share my opinion on just about anything. Just as you and others are entitled to feel pissed off about it. (Though you are not entitled to the protection of anonymous responses.)

The vast majority of what I've shared and written has been agreed upon by other Jensen Ackles fans and even non-fans! You think I came to some observations on my own?? Or that I didn't wrestle with it for months?

maybe you should research better your sources, some of the people you've been talking to have said before that they just like to rile people up, they've admited to making up stuff just for fun.

You mean like... oh... AustinAmy? Or Abi? Jensen Ackles fans who lied? Them?

And, um. Who do you think I've been getting information from? @walker-girl? @its-sassyboots? Or @hologramcowboy? Or @neecy83? Or @jarpadswalker? Or @supernaturalconvert? (My sincerest apologies to those I tagged. Ahem.)

In actuality? None of them.

Most of what I've mentioned, brought up, were through my own two eyes and ears. I read articles. I watched con panels. I observed pictures that I found through public media. Some, sure, were screenshots that were preserved, thankfully, when Danneel went on a deletion spree to hide her hideous behavior, but most... public. Social media. I didn't 'talk' to anyone.

I did it myself. Why do you think it takes a while for new posts? Because I vet them as much as possible!

And who is making stuff up? Please. I'd love to know.

you also have a dignosed sociopath among your sources, which means they cannot understand emotions.

Er. Who? Because again... I'm not getting anything from just one person. I vet as much as possible or ask for videos. For proof.

there's also a troll in disguise, who brags about making people like you believe anything, and then laughs their ass of when you people start making theories based on their bs.

Again: You mean like AustinAmy and/or Abi? Or Cynifer? Or Dot? Because those so-called members of the Ackles Army are the ones spreading lies.

No one I've spoken to. Because again--I ask for proof. Why do you think I asked about the videos that were sent to me? So I could see for myself.

And I'm still waiting for anyone to point out whatever I wrote is wrong... and back it up.

(Opinions, however, will always be opinions. I guess I do need to state in plain English that some of what I've stated is speculation and I have every right to write my speculations.)

seriously, is it that crazy to believe that Jensen really loves the woman he married?

Yes.

Because he himself stated that his marriage works better when they're apart. That he himself said that when Danneel was on the set of Supernatural, he couldn't be himself. That he himself said that more than once when he came home, she'd hand him the keys and take off herself.

Because a lot of his stories read very generic. There's nothing specific. Just "Danneel likes French food and French music." Okay? When a con or two ago, it was Italian food. Or he'd go sit outside and watch the kids run around. Where's the heart? Where's the specific thing that would stand out in a memory--like maybe while he was moving furniture upon Danneel's direction, he snagged his pants against something and she had to free him while laughing her ass off?

Not to mention, in a lot of photos, there's no genuine affection. It reads like a business arrangement more than a love story. Their kisses in public? And no, I'm not saying they need to be tongue deep to show a kiss. I'm saying their kisses read like cold fish, with his lips so closed and desperately pulling away all the time.

Even Danneel has more open affection and warmth with a family friend than she does her own husband!

So... yes. It is hard to believe.

I've not seen any genuine love or warmth from Danneel--not in anything she's said to do, or done to him. And Jensen... same for him, from him, about her.

Look, anon, I get it.

As hard as it sounds, I am passionate about Jensen. I've been a big fan since his time on Days of Our Lives. I've seen him grow and then stagnate as an actor. I've seen him go from this open, slightly shy and reserved young man to... to this. I could show you, nearly, a timeline of seeing him being bright and full of energy to someone who looks like he's dying inside. This isn't an attack, I promise you.

It's an observation. No, it's not a projection (as I've been accused). It's someone who grew up in an abusive household (like Jensen with his father; his own words) and learned how to read people in order to survive. As a result, I could tell when someone was devastated even before they were ready to talk about it. I was the person people turned to for a shoulder because they knew I'd listen and actually care.

It's how I made my own family.

It's how I came into having a daughter.

I'm not sharing this to toot my horn, anon.

Because isn't it possible... that maybe I'm the one who is right? And it's shattering a vision of an actor who should be seen as an imperfect human being as opposed to the perfect man with the perfect marriage and the perfect career?

[its-in-the-woods]

The Woman Who Couldn’t Die Part 2

master list

Part 1

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Original Character 

Alternative Universe where I make things up cause I can only research so much

Synopsis: Set a few years before Dom Pedro gets a hold of the Ghoul. The Ghoul is traveling back from the east coast, doing side quests for chems, after saving a girl from a closet. She becomes an unlikely companion, that softens the Ghoul’s hardshell.

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning: This is based on fallout expect Canon typical: Drug use, alcohol, dEath, graphic viOlence, suggestions of SA, NonCon (not by the mc) suggestions of SH, body horror, angst, hurt/comfort, death or people, drugs and alcohol use, addiction, withdrawal symptoms, slow build,

Note: These will be spaced out as I am heavily editing and researching them. Each chapter will be 2-3+k words. Tags will be edited based on the chapter, please make sure you read them.

 He heard her body slump down as she nodded it off, being someone’s chauffeur wasn’t on his list, even if the caps and chems sweetened the deal The girl, Jade his mind autocorrected, was going to be more than deadweight. How the hell had she managed to catch up to him? She had sat down and passed out moments after coming into the little makeshift shelter. The best thing would be to let her sleep and leave. She will die if you leave her here. 

“Oh thanks for coming to my rescue conscience,” The Ghoul muttered to no one, “I don’t do guide work.”

She made it this far

“And? Chance are she won’t wake up tomorrow.” The Ghoul ground his jaw, since when did he give a mole’s backside about anyone?

Give her chance

“Fine. If she wakes up I will take her to the closest town.” The Ghoul muttered covering his face with his hat. “Leave me alone, before I smoke your ass out of my head.”

He waited for a reply but got none, letting out a huff he settled his gun in his hand and le t himself drift into something resembling sleep.

***

She woke with a start, someone kicking at her feet. Sitting up she blinked a few times, eyes still not used to being outside the box. Letting out a cough she moved her bag around to her and dug out some water. Take a swig of it before looking up at the figure standing in what passed at a doorway. 

“Time to get going, the sun is up.” The Ghoul murmured just loud enough she could hear him. 

Standing she swayed back and forth, the aches in her bones making her stiffen for a moment. Jade wondered if she’d be able to walk, she pushed the thought out of her mind. You either walk or you die, she thought. 

Her travel companion was already on the move, her feet felt heavy but she pushed herself after him. Until she was beside him, matching his hurried pace as best she could. The bag on her back dug into old scars and bruises, she winced as her feet slid into the shoes. Trying to keep the discomfort to herself. There was not a doubt in her mind that if she didn’t keep up he’d leave her in dirt. Payment or not he was on the move. Her stomach turned and she promptly threw up on the side of the road. She wiped her mouth taking a small swig of water, before hurrying to catch up to him. 

“Could you tell me where we are?” She asked, maybe the conversation would help take her mind off the pain and endless nausea. 

The Ghoul glanced at her, “West, Appalachian somewhere.”

“Shit. I didn’t realize how far they’d take me.” Jade cussed, her mind reeling at the knowledge she was hundreds of miles from the East Coast. 

“We are heading west, if you want to go east you’ll have to turn around.” His matter-of-fact tone was almost funny. 

“Nah, I’ve always wanted to go west,” She said trying to sound confident. The truth of the matter was she didn’t really know where to go. It wasn’t like anyone was waiting for her. The chance of the Enclave looking for her still was low, she was a failed experiment. Jade figured the value of her life wasn’t worth much more than the caps she’d give the bounty hunter. At least she was alive, for now anyway.

“I never got your name,” Jade asked, the silenes grinding at her, somehow making every part of her that hurt, hurt more. Stomach rolling, she briefly wondered if the small amount of water she’d drank would be coming up next. 

“Ghoul is fine,” The man’s choppy replies should have been enough of an indication to shut up. Not that Jade cared, she’d paid him, and the least he could do was talk to her. 

“That’s not name, not really. You have to be called something else.” Jade pestered, adjusting her bag so it didn’t dig in as much. 

The Ghoul sighed, and shifted his shoulder, “Well that’s all yer gettin’ ”

Jade inwardly groaned, great this was going to be a long trip with Chatty-Cathay here. She decided at least for the time being to keep her mouth shut and keep walking. Hopefully, she won’t lose anything else she’d eaten on the way. 

***

The sun was starting to set when they stopped to make camp, the Ghoul had tucked them off the main roadway. A small fire was started and cans of cram tossed in to heat up. They had barely spoken just walking, the bounty hunter would have just kept walking through the night if he thought his travel companion would have made it. The woman had thrown up twice more since this morning, her hands shaking every time she took a sip of water. At least she had managed to keep down the last bit of food they ate. Girl had started to lag behind near the end of the evening, he wasn’t surprised she hadn't kept up. He could see how pale she was as she flopped onto the ground. This girl had been locked in a closet yesterday for god knows how long and now had walked a dozen miles in a day. Maybe she was tougher than his initial observation. 

Flicking a can of cram out of the fire at her, she was holding her water bottle staring off into the fire. He took a moment to look at her, she was fair-skinned with black hair and huge brown eyes. Her features were marred by scars but still delicate, she was small but there was fire in her. Few people kept up with him when he was moving, at least he figured she'd make it to the next town. 

“Eat some food, got to get some sleep,” He gestured to the now cooling can of cram. “If we keep up the pace we will make it to the next town in another two days.”

Jade grabbed the can and opened it, “Two days is pretty good, do you know what the town is called?”

“Couldn’t tell you, but I am sure they will.” He murmured eating his food. “What are you planning on doing there?”

“I am not sure, probably look for work I suppose,” Jade said still staring at the dying fire.

“Not sure how big this next place is,” Ghoul replied, “But there is always work for those looking to make caps.”

Jade nodded, “I was a bartender in Atlantic for a bit. Pay was okay but they also gave me a room. Won’t mind doing that again.”

“How did you,” Ghoul stopped himself, gesturing into open space as he looked at her.

“Joel kidnapped me,” Jade answered as if it was nothing, “He knew I had been experimented on in the Enclave. Guess he figured I would be a good toy, and not have to worry about the consequences.”

Knowing she had survived being in the Enclove and was still sane. Mostly sane. Just to be kidnapped by the pieces of shit at that outpost and she still kept moving. Jade was much more than he had given her credit for.

“Consequences?” He asked, already having an idea what she meant. What he wasn’t expecting was for her to stand up and lift up the baggy shirt to point at the raised pinkish-grey scar going across her lower abdomen. Her whole torso was covered in various scars, some looked surgical in nature. 

“Don’t have to worry about me getting pregnant from their clients,” She stated matter of factly before dropping it back down. “Means they can charge more.”

The Ghoul felt his stomach turn at the thought, that Joel had purposefully taken her cause she had had her reproductive organs removed. Just so he could charge more for people to use her.

“Too bad I am a fighter, bit off a few people's ears, and ripped a guy's throat out once. So they kept me drugged, which I guess was a gift 'cause I don’t remember too much.” Jade continued, her calm even voice was stark compared to the horrors she told. “One guy was stupid enough to go in without drugging, watched him bleed out on the floor dickless.”

The Ghoul couldn’t help a harsh laugh at the last one. “You are more than I anticipated.”

Jade shrugged, “Kill or be killed. One of the only things my Daddy instilled in me.”

“Your Daddy was a smart man. I am surprised they didn’t kill you for killing their clients.” The Bounty Hunter said, tossing his empty tin into the now-dead fire. 

“Nah, piece of shit just used it to their advantage. Advertising me as being untamed.” She spit out adding her can to the pile. 

Ghoul nodded, her lack of emotion around the whole situation was worrying. The girl could be close to a mental break. The wasteland was hard on most people who hadn't been through half of what she had. Yet she sat there like it was just another Tuesday. 

“Should get some sleep,” The Ghoul stated, kicking out the last of the fire.

“I can take a watch,” Jade offered, pulling her bag against her chest.

The Ghoul settled down his old bones creaking as he stretched out. He tapped the side of his head, “Got good hearing.  Get some sleep, long day tomorrow.” 

Jade didn't argue, just curled up with her head resting on her bag. He waited until her breathing had evened out before shutting his own eyes.

***

The second day of traveling together went much the same. Mostly silence, with a few interjections of, ‘Drink some water’, ‘Take another stimpak’, ‘Your boots’re loud’, and Jade's favorite, ‘Keep up or I’ll leave yah’. At least the sun had been mostly off them, the trees in the Appalachian mountains made sure of that. She also had only thrown up once, which hopefully meant the worst of the withdrawals were coming to an end. 

By the time they set up camp, Jade was ready to stab the asshole. She flunked down and got the fire started. The Ghoul had wandered away to ‘take a leak’. As she worked the pile of sticks into a good flame she dug into her bag to grab a can of food. She wanted food and some water, it was unfortunate that she had failed to grab some moonshine from the outpost. 

A shuffle broke through the dead quiet. Jade scrambled to get up as her body protested against movement. The pistol pointed towards the sound. More rustling and the Ghoul stumbled out with a large bird-like creature in hand.

“Don't shoot, Pip-Squeak,” He grunted, flunking the carcass onto the dirt. “Found something fresh.”

Jade flopped back down and watched the man. A small smile played across the creature's scared lips. He stepped on both wings grabbing the feet and yanked. Jade cringed slightly as he degloved the meat from the feathered body in one fluid motion. Digging his fingers inside to get the entrails out. He looked up at Jade.

“In my saddle bag, there’s some metal skewers grab’em,” 

Jade didn't hesitate groaning as her joints popped, reaching over into his bag and pulling out the set of skewers. She stood and grabbed a couple of branches, the two working to make a makeshift roaster for the prize. 

Once the meat was roasting he sat himself down taking a puff of the inhaler. Those gold eyes rolling slightly, Jade wondered what the drug felt like. At the same time, bile came up at the thought of drugs. As much as she enjoyed the recreation here and there, it was probably best to avoid them for now. 

“Whatcha looking at?” The Ghoul’s eyes are now on her. Even having been beside him for two days she couldn't help how much he looked like a predator. His eyes flowed over her like she was the meat on the spit.

“Never tried that chem before. It's newer stuff.” Jade stated, trying to sound calm. She felt like a rabbit caught in a corner, her heart rate spiking and her lungs trying to grab air. 

Then his eyes were moving back to the meal, turning it over on the spit. The meat cracked and popped as it cooked. 

“Yeah, the Enclave, well that's the rumor anyway. Made it so that they could keep Ghouls from going feral. Word got out and a few ‘doctors’ started making it.” He poked at the fire. “Thought, in your state I won’t be temptin’ fait.”

Jade waves her hand, “No, I’ve had my fill of chems for a lifetime. But how does it make you feel?”

The Ghould tapped the inhaler against his chin pondering the question. “It enhances everything. But at the same time numbs the mind, makes it quieter up  here.” He tapped his forehead with a leather-gloved hand. “Being a Ghoul makes things enhanced, but it’s more like all my nerves are working as if my brain isn’t full of worms. As close to human as I’ll ever get.”

“Do you miss being human?” Jade prodded, this was the most conversation she had gotten out of him. 

Stretching out he pulled off his gloves, hands red and gnarled like the rest of him, and grabbed a bit of the bird from the screwer. “Can’t say I do, some things,” He tapped a finger to what was left of the bridge of his nose. “But otherwise it’s not such a bad deal.”

Jade nodded, she wasn’t sure what she had expected, her time with Ghouls was limited. They were still mostly shunned, but things were starting to change. Some understanding that Ghouls could be handy and weren’t the monsters that many made them out to be. There were even several settlements of just Ghouls now. 

“Did you ever think of settling down? Not many Ghouls do bounty hunting,” Jade continued grabbing a few chunks of warm bird, blowing on them before eating it. Tasted decent, at least it was warm and not from a can. 

“Mmm, just like to keep moving,” The man replied, Jade got a distinct feeling he wasn’t telling her everything. 

“Never thought of bounty hunting, maybe I will give that a go. Probably safer than bartending.” The girl groaned, eating more of the bird. 

The Ghoul let out a chuckle, “Yah, bounty hunting is safe. Just like radroaches are good eating.”

Jade joins in with a chuckle leaning back against a tree. “See what comes my way. Your ears on?”

He tapped the side of his head and Jade took it as an indication that she could get some rest. Tomorrow would be just as long a day, maybe they’d actually get a bed tomorrow. 

***

The road was well-trodden well-trodded, and evidence of other travelers where starting to pop up. He had mentioned it to Jade to keep her eyes peeled encase they had some unwanted visitors. In fairness he was just happy she was quiet, he hadn’t had a lot of company in his travels. The girl had grown on him, she was tough and didn’t seem to care about the Ghoulness. In fact, she liked to listen to him just as much as she liked to talk, the company was pleasant even enjoyable. Which was going to be a problem, he didn’t need dead weight. But she hadn’t been dead weight, had she? The Ghoul grumbled at his own inner voice, shoving it back into the hole it crawled out of. 

A twigged snap and they both froze. Another snapped on the other side, and the Ghoul found himself back to back with Jade. Guns drawn and pointed, he could feel her breath coming out in short pants. 

“Deep breathes, Tiger,” He said quietly, “if you see something shoot it.”

They moved in tandem turning in a circle trying to see if they could spot whatever was moving in the bush. Something crossed the pathway and Jade fired the shot making a thunk on impact. He didn’t bother to look eyes continuing to scan, something dark moved and he turned firing, a yelp coming out. Then they were on them, raiders, several.  He felt Jade shoot more than heard it, his own gun going off as a mist of blood spurted into the air. The head of one raider turning into a pulp, he felt the impact of something hit his shoulder, but he was already moving. Two more shots, one dead, one screaming. Shells hit the ground as Jade reloaded. He could feel her ducking and followed the same. A deadly dance of gunfire and blood splatter. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Raider jumping from the bushes, he turned covering Jade his knife coming out and sticking into the man’s throat. His hands dropped the weapons as he slid down the blade. A gurgling of icker coming out as he died on the Ghoul’s blade. 

Standing up, the once quiet woods were now littered with several bodies, at least three of them were trying to crawl away. Ghoul watched as Jade walked up to one grabbing his hair to slit his throat, the Ghoul did something similar to one. The third pleaded for his life, but the several holes in his torso said he wouldn’t make it. Jade looked at the Ghoul, he nodded and she put a bullet between his eyes. She stood there almost as if she was seeing the carnage for the first time. Her legs wobbled and the Ghoul caught her under her arms. 

“Easy now, easy,” He muttered helping her down against a large rock. She immediately grabbed her knees and pulled herself into a small ball. 

He knelt down in front of her, “Hey, hey,” He patted her shoulder, unsure of how to comfort her. “They’re dead, you did good.”

The girl’s eyes were glassy as she nodded her head, breath coming out in short pants. Ghoul stood up and let out a sigh, of course, she would snap a few miles from town. 

“I know you are going through shit,” The Ghoul spoke trying to reassure her as she rocked back and forth. “But we got to go, chance are there are more raiders.” The girl was still rocking, but her sniffles had slowed, “We should strip these guys of anything worthwhile and head into town.”

He waited a minute more, once the rocking stopped she uncurled herself. Holding out his hand he pulled her upright, eyes red-rimmed but the hard line of her jaw clenching let him know she was okay. Well as okay as she could be.

 They stripped through the bodies quickly, ammunition, meds, chems, weapons, and a handful of caps. The Bounty Hunter leaned back on his heels. None of them had bags or anything that suggested they had been traveling far. Jade let out a yip, dancing around in a pair of boots that fit. The childlike joy after the breakdown was stark, but welcome. 

“Think we should get moving. Think these were scouts,” He said standing and listening. 

Jade had stuffed a few more things into her bag. Head-on swivel as she moved towards the Ghoul. She stood beside him facing the other way as if they'd done this a hundred times. 

He turned satisfied that nothing was coming from behind them anyway. They both set off at a brisk pace towards what hopefully was somewhere safer than here. 

Part two

*If you enjoy the story let me know! It keeps me writing!

*more to come, this is fully plotted just a lot of editing and additions..

*Find me on AO3 here

[marlfox1017]

find the word game

rules: I'll give you five words. find the word (or closest approximation you can) in your works and post an excerpt.

Thanks for the tag, @oldlight117

I won't tag anyone else because I don't really know anyone else! But, should you wish to keep the game going here are five words:

Blood, Tears, Smile, Laugh, Face

Enjoy these pieces of my wips!

Night

First Night in Camp:

And she’s not alone. She cocks her head at the footfall, “You’ll not catch a ranger off her guard. And you should get some rest.”

“Noted, I’ll have to practice my stealth,” Shadowheart stops an arm’s length to Delaclya’s left. “Am I disturbing you? It’s a beautiful night.”

“It is indeed. I prefer these nights of the new moon. The stars shine without being outdone by the moon.”

“You’re an unusual Selunite! You prefer a night sky without the moon?” Shadowheart scoffs.

“I said it was complicated,” Delaclya laughs. “I lack the devotion, I hope that would be enough to spare me from a Sharran blade. I have been lucky to never run into one.”

“Would you know a Sharran if you met one?” She quirks an eyebrow.

Shadowheart betrays nothing in her response. Has Delaclya read her wrong? She doubts it, but some gentle probing won’t hurt. She has to admit she’d like to get to know this woman better.

Eyes

A Tragic Backstory:

They hold each other's stare. How could those green eyes grow more beautiful each day? They had agreed to see where this connection would go, but Delaclya knew what she wanted from the moment they’d met again on the beach. She had been emboldened by the wine and Shadowheart’s silent invitation the last time they were this close. The invitation is there again, but she hesitates. 

Glance

Devotions:

Delaclya stands and paces around the fire. When she looks back towards Shadowheart’s tent, she sees her emerge, turn, and look at her.

Should I go to her?

Shadowheart sees Delaclya looking her way.

Will she come to me?

Cast

Her Most Sacred Path:

“Shall we accompany you? Or…,” Delaclya finally looks up from her book, “Oh? You’re injured.”

Shadowheart wipes at her nose. Blood covers her glove. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“It looks broken. May I?” Delaclya gestures, forming the beginning of a spell.

“Thank you.” Shadowheart closes her eyes.

“Te Curo.” Delaclya completes the spell with a light touch to her nose. “Does that feel better?”

“Oh, much better. Thank you.” She smiles and looks around. “Where are the others?”

“Oh, you know, exploring.” Gale begins. “Lae’zel, especially, isn’t one to be idle. They’ve gone back to the orthon’s side of the temple. Astarion seemed keen to loot more. Karlach is unhappy and wants to hit something…”

Embrace

A Tragic Backstory:

Shadowheart steps into her arms, hugging her tightly, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I went too far.”

Delaclya can do little else but hold her. It feels so natural to do so. To feel her warmth and never let her go.

“I could get lost in your arms,” she sighs and kisses her neck.

“I’d want you to.” Delaclya whispers.

“Maybe that’s what my Lady is warning me against,” Shadowheart steps out of their embrace. “Goodnight, Delaclya.”

[galaxycunt]

You’re A Part Of My Heart

2k words of me attempting fluff n smut so hope u like it!! @gayafsatan a tag as requested hehehe

It was a slow night, the kind where only the regulars in town filled the booths and tables. Pirate crews came and went, so when a colorful band of rowdy sailors filled the room with chatter, you paid no mind. You saw his flashy outfit first; bright orange hat with long blue hair brushing the shoulders of anyone close enough to the captain, long coat with dirty white fur, sparkly blue clown makeup.

There was no mistaking Captain Buggy with anyone else. You usually didn’t get pirates with a high bounty here, making you a little nervous. You didn’t show it, barely looking his direction until he approached you.

”Rum, top shelf.”

”You gonna chase that down with anything, man?”

He smiles, even with yellow teeth and all that greasepaint he was handsome. You didn’t make it a habit to sleep with every sailor passing through, they’d never leave you alone if you did, but you entertained the idea in your head this time.

”Maybe a drinking partner will make it go down smoother.”

Corny, fits the costume. You smile, watching him watch you set down two shot glasses.

“Fair winds, and following seas,” you say as you both knocked back a shot.

“Oh, you’re far too young to be some washed up sailor setting up in a bar.”

”Do only sailors know that one?” you shrug, leaving him to drink alone.

Your eyes always followed back to his, like he willed it. His always meeting yours. Glancing at the other customers, you decide to drink with Buggy again. At this point, his hat was off and so was his coat. Lingering on his form, the way his muscles flexed with his moments, you set course on your target tonight.

”I was.”

He furrowed his brows a moment, “what happened?”

”Too much death, who would’ve thought piracy wasn’t just drinking in the sun all day?”

He raises his glass to yours, clinking them together. His eyes were hard to read, no doubt thinking of his own loss, whoever it was.

“I was a captain too, not much different than running a bar actually.”

He laughs, another shot. He leaned forward this time, fingers brushing up against your hand.

“The bar and the ship share the same name?”

You wonder if being honest would be a turn off, “ah, no. It’s named after someone I knew. Sailing wasn’t the same, you know?”

Buggy stares at you for a beat, his gaze suddenly uncomfortable. You falter, turning to leave.

His hand grabs yours, “what’s your favorite drink?”

”I like sweet stuff.”

”Me too.”

You relax, seeing the man behind the pirate. You end up drinking with him most of the night, the patrons slowly trickling out of the bar and out of your mind. It’s only him you see, an island in the middle of the ocean. You talk about nothing important, what he saw on his travels, islands you been to.

”See that you got my wanted poster up there,” he points to his own smiling face.

”Keeps the marines outta my hair. You know,” you smile at how clever you are, “it’s a shot for every million. Tradition.”

He rests his cheek on your palm, “is that so?”

Your fingers tingle up your arm into your spine, “let me close up first. I got the good shit upstairs.”

Buggy doesn’t let you go far, trailing behind as your turn off the lights and lock the door. You feel a hand at your waist as you lead him up to your bed. You waste no time with him, capturing his lips with yours.

He tastes like rum, lipstick, and salt. His gloves feel cool against your warm skin, fingers running over every exposed inch. He’s rough with you, desperate to get you closer and closer. Teeth grazes your skin, nails dig in.

”Buggy,” you whisper, “fuck me baby.”

He moans, shoving you on to the mattress. You never seen someone take off clothes so quickly before, his eagerness makes you laugh.

”What’s so funny,” he grumbles before kissing you.

”Oh you know,” you say between kisses.

He stops abruptly, “what did you fucking say?”

”What? I’m saying nothing.”

”My nose, you’re making fun of me.”

He looks angry, ready to rip your throat out. You attempt to reach out to him, he slaps your hand away.

“Buggy, what’s wrong?”

”Oh it’s so funny huh? Get big nose all excited just to laugh at him. I’ll teach you-“

”-I wasn’t laughing at you, shithead.”

He scoffs, and you turn his chin to look at you. His face hides his hurt, except the eyes. You feel like you should kick him out, but something stops you. Buggy looks at you like he’s expecting it.

”Kiss me, Buggy.”

He does, cautiously this time. You move away to wiggle out of your clothes, Buggy helping along the way. His hands detach to your horror, pulling your shirt off your arms.

“Holy shit.”

He only winks, those same hands crawling around your body. It’s all happening too fast to comprehend. You can only think of what else he can do with those hands.

”Chop Chop Fruit.”

You laugh again, giving his cock a few pumps. He swallows, almost like he can’t believe this is happening with you. Kisses litter your chest before he bites down on a nipple, Buggy getting more aggressive with every little noise you make. Red lipstick marks your body with every bite, you tug his hair causing his eyes to roll back.

His tongue reaches your cunt, sliding between your folds easily. He eats you out like a starving man, nose pressing your clit. The pressure feels wonderful, holding onto his head for dear life.

“Buggy,” you beg.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it,” he murmurs into your thighs.

It’s all too much, you shove him off you with a smile on your face. Buggy wipes his mouth before kissing you, you knew you were going to have a hell of a time cleaning all this paint up later but right now you didn’t care.

“You want this cock? Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”

You nod as he spreads your legs apart, lining himself up. He was not gentle with you, and you loved it. Buggy thrusted hard and fast, babbling in your ear. He seemed to like it when you pulled his hair, or bit an earlobe. You were turning into putty in his hands, and him in yours.

Throwing your leg over his shoulder, he hit deeper and deeper. You felt like you were about to burst, Buggy close behind you.

He collapsed onto you, struggling to breathe. You kissed his head as you stroked his hair, eventually he stilled long enough you figured he was asleep. You decided you didn’t mind at all, wanting to stay with him as long as possible.

“This was nice,” he said suddenly.

You gave him a squeeze, “that mean you’re leaving then?”

He lifted his head, eyes intense, “are you asking me to leave?”

What was the harm?

“No, you can stay if you wanna.”

”Do you want me to?”

This shot at your heart, he was a sad little clown wasn’t he?

“I do. Wanna shower with me? We’re red and blue all over.”

He smiles so brightly you’re stupid enough to think too long on it. He’s handsy as expected, his skin burning hot as you kiss his body. You wash the rest of his makeup off, leaning into each other’s touch. He’s dreamy, maybe too dreamy.

”Squeaky clean, butter bean.”

He laughs, “you’re too cute.”

“I don’t have anything for you to sleep in, sorry.”

”Neither do you then,” he winks.

As you towel off, Buggy finger combs your damp hair. He can’t stop kissing you, touching you.

”You’re so beautiful, are you a siren?”

You laugh, and he smiles.

“See? Like a lullaby.”

“You say that to all the girls you bed?”

He shakes his head, “only girls like you, think you’re the first.”

Buggy fluffs up your pillows, turning off all the lights.

Settling into bed he says, “I’m sure you get plenty of handsome sailors saying that.”

”Nope. Just you.”

He throws an arm around you, spooning you. He’s soft, warm, maybe exactly what you needed right now. It had been so long since you let anyone stay in your bed, and he’s pleasant enough company.

Maybe it’s the way he finds a way to get closer even in his sleep, or way he looks in the moonlight, but you feel your chest caving in. You don’t want this man to leave, and you know he will. You shed a few silent tears, feeling sorry for yourself.

In the morning, he’s still there. You stir slightly, and he sleepily kisses your cheek.

“Hey.”

”Hey, baby.”

You search his face, looking for a sign that he feels the same about you. He shies away, burying his face into your neck. You struggle for words to say, scolding yourself for being mushy for a clown.

”So, when do you cast off?”

He groans, “shit. Sooner than later, was gonna leave today.”

“Oh that’s a shame,” you admit.

He looks surprised, “oh yeah? Where you uh, hoping for another around?”

You shrug, “something like that.”

It was a one night stand, no reason to admit feelings. Besides, if he was the kind of guy to tattoo crossbones on his face, a pirate's life was truly for him. He was never gonna make his way back here again.

“I’m gonna make some coffee, don’t get up.”

He smiles, like a boy with his first crush, you figure you’re imagining it. You feel your heart threatening to crawl out your mouth, you needed to get away from him.

It had been years since you opened your heart to anyone, would a man like Buggy want something like that?

He looks so good sitting in bed like that, naked and rugged.

“How you like your coffee?”

”Sugar and cream, with a hint of coffee.”

He looks so happy to see you laugh, that he could make you laugh doing or saying anything.

You sip your coffee quietly in bed together, Buggy looking nervous the whole time. You figure he’s trying to find an excuse to leave, you’re ready to give him one. But then to your surprise, he holds your hand. Your cheeks burn, and you cuddle up closer.

”You know,” he says, “I don’t gotta leave right away. How long has it been since you been on a ship?”

”Too long.”

”Well, guess it’s time for a grand tour.”

He was a gentleman, his features softer in the daylight. As you walk across the pier, you reach for his hand to test the waters. A blush creeps up his neck, but he doesn’t let go.

The Big Top was larger than life, befitting a pirate captain like him. He leads you to an area where he kept his circus tent, it wasn’t set up, the lights and crates strewn about.

“Watch.”

He hit a switch, the lights strung above lit up like stars. Buggy watched you gaze up with delight, you catch his eye, would it be crazy to fall for him now?

You suppose you always did that, you met your first love at a port town, just like this one. They offered you a spot on his crew, before discovering they weren’t even a captain. You served together until you had money for a ship, you were made captain. Anything you wanted, you dove in head first.

”I would love to see a show.”

He loves to hear it, “you get VIP access. Free.”

”Oh yeah? What’s included.”

He hugs your waist, “front row seats, free concessions, access to the star’s personal green room.”

Your lips brushes against his, “deal.”

He didn’t move, frozen against your body. Suddenly feeling anxious, you try to back up.

He holds you tight, “I’m serious.”

”Me too.”

He kisses you again, happy as hell. You feel it coming, nervously smiling at Buggy. He looks so proud, truly born for the sea. For the spotlight.

”You should join, I can offer a private show every night.”

“I can’t. I’m a little too old to run off with the circus.”

He face falls, “oh.”

“I’m not saying no, just not now.”

”Oh!”

He was too cute, “come back, Bug. I would love to see you as much as I could.”

“How about two months? Could…could you wait for me that long?”

You found your courage, “I’ll wait for you until the end of my days.”

[madam-whim]

Tagged by my dearest @illumiera who said it was better to post super late than to not post at all... I do think pretty much everyone has been tagged already, so I'll just leave this open to anyone who wants to join in :)

[This week Sujamma has been brushing up on his literacy. It's hard being a humble Nix-Hound. Reading doesn't come naturally to him, but he's doing his best! This week Sujamma is hoping you will help him learn to read!

Post a favorite scene, favorite sentence, favorite dialogue, favorite anything from any fic you've written! If you haven't written any fic, feel free to share your ideas. If you don't have any, recommend a friend's fic!]

I think I will post the beginning of a fic that will probably not see the light of day anytime soon, but I do love this scene...

“Well,” said Emperor Martin Septim, staring at the red rose petals laid out on his bedroom floor, carefully arranged to spell out the word HELP in Daedric letters, “shit.”

He did not curse often, as he had found his wife to be far better at it, and usually left it to her when there was something to curse at. For now, however, she was still asleep in their shared bed, though she would likely not remain so for long.

There were very few people in his – or his and Arri’s shared – acquaintance who would employ Daedric letters to ask for their assistance, even fewer who were able to sneak a message into this room, past the Blades and the magical wards that Ocato had insisted upon, without waking him or his wife. And only one of them would ever write in rose petals, of all things.

“Are you alright?” came his wife’s voice from behind him. There she was, then. Martin would have loved to let her rest some more, but she always woke when he left her alone in bed for more than a few minutes. They both doubted this would ever change again, after all the things she’d been through, but it was a small price to pay.

Arri was sitting up in bed now, rubbing at her eyes. She had never been a morning person, and was seemingly still in the process of waking herself up, something she could do far more quickly than usual when she was worried there might be trouble ahead.

“That would depend on your definition of alright,” Martin winced. “It appears we do have a slight problem. Come look at this.”

His wife, still wrapped up in her blanket, made her way over to him, and, once she was by his side, took a look at the floor, studying the petals just like Martin had.

“Huh,” said Liviana Arria, Hero of Kvatch, “shit indeed.”

After all, it was not every day that Sanguine called for help.

[sunnyloungee]

I'll be okay. (One-shot)

Relationship: Sami/Jey (SamiJey)

Rating: General — angst, emotional hurt, disappointment, self-doubt, comfort, understanding, hurt/comfort, happy ending, jey is hurting, he wants to hide away, sami finds him

Summary: Set right after Jey loses his WHC match at [01/25/25] SNME. He's alone in the locker room and he's spiralling. He's disappointed and sad and just in pain. He wants to hide, he just wants some peace. He feels like he has to deal with this crushing feeling all on his own. And then, Sami finds him…

Word count: 2,042

Ao3 link

*Masterlist*

A/N: I had an extra long break, so I had a hour to write, and I just had to, had to write something. This was just playing in my head for far too long and I had to get it out.

Even though I knew Jey wasn't going to win the WHC, it still hurt. So, this is sort of for my own comfort as well. I had a few more ideas, but this is the shortest one out of them all, and the only one I sort of had time to half-assed write. So it not quite as good as I'd have liked it to be, but it is something... So here it is. Enjoy! 🌸🌺

——

[— I'm not a "writer" —SO...Comments/Feedback would genuinely be appreciated. Obviously I'd really like to know if you enjoyed it - and comments are so wonderful and so motivating as well! 🩷 hit the like if you genuinely like it 😊 I'd love to know if it was any good. Thank you again for reading! 🩷]

**Tagging: @afterdarkprincess @fantasyismyonlyrealescape @imabillyami - 🥰 — (if at all anyone wants to be tagged or untagged in my little fics, let me know!)

——

~~Excerpt ~~

He feels like someone has punched him in the gut when he sees the worry displayed on Sami's face, he's the reason for it. He put it there and he hates it. Just because he feels like shit, there's no reason for Sami to feel that way too.

[kyndredravenstories]

Eyes of Infinity: Chapter 16

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11 / Ch 12 / Ch 13 / Ch 14 / Ch 15

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

They call me Kismet - the Destined One.

They say I am a Priestess to Araldir, the God of Souls.

I came into this world with magic running through my veins. It is a power than can grant a font of strength and vigor to anyone I touch. It is incredibly rare, only seen a handful of times in the Tribe's history. Thus, I was chosen at birth to be raised and trained in preparation to become Araldir's bride. My power is a sign that he has marked me as his own. A divine gift, they call it. A blessing.

This year, at the Winter Solstice, our Tribe's Speaker will take me to the Spine on the border of our lands, will lay me down upon the cold stone altar, and will carve out my heart in sacrifice to our deity. I've trained my whole life for this and have had years to prepare myself both in body and mind.

They say it is the greatest honor I could ever hope for.

They say I should be proud.

But, I am far from such. In fact, I have no memory of anything the Tribe has told me about my life. Sorocan, to be specific. A short stout woman with greying hair and sky blue eyes. She's the one who found me after my failed escape attempt, treated my wounds, and nursed me back to health. She's our Tribe's shaman and our Speaker, a woman who leads and dictates all spiritual rules and traditions. She saved my life, and I should trust her. What she tells me about me sounds false, but who am I to doubt the words of someone that communes with the Gods themselves?

I don't have any proof that I am not who these people say I am, after all.

Exactly one month ago today, I awakened in the steppe alone. Wounded. Lost. Confused. Entirely devoid of any recollection of who I am or how I got here. My only clue is a vivid black tattoo seared into my wrist, a dark carving that resembles a link of some kind. It snakes up my forearm to my elbow. I've been told to hide it, and ever since my homecoming I've worn only long sleeved dresses despite the brutal heat of summer to ensure than no one in the Tribe sees my new mark.

Perhaps the torture serves me right. Sorocan says I ran away from home, that I'm reckless and defiant, perhaps nervous before my ceremony to join Araldir coming up in just a few months. She says I must have fallen and hit my head, lost my memories due to my injuries. But, the Tribe's explanation of my identity doesn't make any sense. Their words don't resonate with me. When they found me and saved me from my aimless wandering, I accepted their aide too readily.

Now, I regret it.

Over the course of the weeks following my fated reunion with Sorocan, preparations for my ceremony begin. I am to join Araldir in the heavens soon, and that means my heart must be full of only joy. I am given my own quarters and an entire array of ladies to wait on me hand and foot. I'm fed the best food the Tribe has to offer, bathed in fragrances, and massaged with oils. I'm adorned in the finest silk, wool, and cotton dresses, my neck surrounded with strings of silver and my hair glimmering with ropes of precious stones and gold.

Yet, there is no joy in any of it. As I am pampered and fawned over in my own luxurious yurt, I start to feel like I'm missing something profound. Not just my memories, but a piece of my very heart. The mystery of the tattoo on my arm gives me no peace of mind. It resembles a chain, and I wonder where the other side leads. Or, to whom. Though I still can't remember my true origins, I know that I don't belong in this place and that there is someone I must find, someone that searches for me now just as I search for them.

Once more, I try to escape. Taking advantage of a dark and windy night, I try to sneak away from the village. But, I don't make it far. Without any memories, I don't know the lay of the land. I wander in circles and nearly fall victim to a pack of hungry monsters wandering the grassland. Sorocan catches me just on the border of the Tribe's lands and commands her warriors to bring me home. I fight and I claw at them. When I cannot break free, I beg her to please let me go. There is sadness in her eyes when she refuses me, and it helps me understand that there is more to her actions than readily meets the eye.

Back in my quarters, I am chastised and lectured. The potential consequences of my escape are brought home without mercy. If this sacrifice isn't performed, the Tribe will starve. Araldir will unleash his fury upon us. In fact, our lands are already suffering, and it is only my sacrifice that can bring life back to them again. Most of the crops we plant rot in the soil. More and more of the herds we hunt fall ill to an unknown sickness. Our women struggle with fertility. Slowly, inevitably, our Tribe is wasting away.

Sorocan's eyes are accusing. Hard. Furious. She doesn't understand what's come over me. I've always been obedient. I've known all my life this day would come. What has changed? What is driving my rebellion?

"Why did you try to leave us again?" she demands from me. "Have we not given you the best we have? Have we not taken care of you all your life?"

I sit on my bed, my wrists tied together. A prisoner. I raise my chin, pulling and yanking on my bonds. Sweat beads on my forehead as I struggle. But, I can't give up. I won't.

"I'm not going to accept being a pig fattened up for slaughter. I don't want to be your sacrifice. I find no pride or joy in having my heart cut out and placed on an altar for someone else's benefit."

We sit in awkward silence for some time before I speak again. "I don't belong here, Sorocan. The story you've told me is a lie. Everyone here has been lying to me from the first moment I got here. I'm not the Kismet. I have another name. Another life. I don't even speak like you do." I clench my hands into fists. "You're ready to murder a random innocent person just to make yourself look good?"

Sorocan's eyes widen. It's proof enough that my words have hit home. Yet, she does not remove her mask. She continues with the charade.

"None of this is about anything personal," Sorocan argues, her piercing blue eyes unwavering. "The Tribes are at each others throats. They need something to unify them in this time of crisis. You are that something. Do not despair, child. Your sacrifice will save the land. Heal it."

I glare at her. "The minute you look away, I'm gone. I'll fight you to the last second."

I stay true to my word. Over and over again, I try to run away until I'm kept under constant guard. A post is buried deep into the earth, and a yurt is built around it. Sorocan chains my ankle to this structure. I'm able to walk around my quarters, but I cannot go outside. The guards bring me food and sustenance, but none except our Speaker and a few of her hand chosen women are allowed inside. I'm watched as I bathe, eat, and sleep.

And so, more weeks go by.

As time stretches on in this endless procession of monotony, my cage begins to addle my mind. I grow listless. My appetite dwindles to nothing. Most days, I sit on my bedroll and stare at the tiny slit in the wall of my dwelling with my legs pressed up against my chest. There is no joy in my heart, and there won't ever be. Araldir will claim a desiccated shell, and it serves him right for ruining my life. It's a silent rebellion. Worthless, perhaps, but it's something.

More time passes. I only realize that the seasons begin to change because Sorocan and her women bring me warmer blankets, furs, and clothes. I let them feed me, dress me, and bathe me like a soulless doll. I feel empty, but my mind refuses to give up. My heart insists that I am not alone in this cruel reality. That someone is out there, searching for me. Someone at the end of the chain tattooed on my arm.

Sorocan isn't blind. She sees that I'm wasting away. She tries to lecture me again and again to convince me of my duty and my destiny, but I tune out her voice like I would a buzzing fly. Then, one day, her words pierce through the haze.

"If you do not rebel, I will agree to let you go out and see the festival."

I have no idea what she's talking about and blink at her wordlessly. Her face comes into focus, the first thing that does in quite some time.

"...go out?" I croak in a voice that hasn't been used in too long.

"Yes, child," Sorocan says. "You've grown too thin. Your complexion is unhealthy."

I make a bitter sound. "That's what happens when you chain someone up against their will."

She frowns. "It is for your safety and for the good of the Tribe."

My hands clench into fists. Is this another chance for escape? Should I play along and act like I've learned the error of my ways? Maybe this is my last chance to try to get away.

"What festival?" I ask.

Sorocan stands up and crosses her arms over her chest. She explains that a most exciting time approaches. The Tribal leaders of the steppe have called everyone together for a Conclave which will last almost a full month. In preparation of the Kismet's offering to the Araldir in Winter, all Tribes have gathered from all around to mingle and trade. Normally, these clans are enemies. Yet, for a short time, they agree to lay down arms. The planned festivities are thrilling. Warriors fight each other in brutal combat for the right to the title of Champion. Men and women freely seek a life partner, no matter their origin or affiliation. Artisans and craftsmen come together to share knowledge and skill. Music plays. Dancing, spirits, and merriment abound as history and traditions are set aside to celebrate life.

On the steppe, there is one rule that is followed and respected above all else: you keep what you take. This applies to all things, for strength and cunning are the most valued traits among warriors here. In this beautiful golden grassland which stretches all the way to the mountains on the far horizon, there is no greater honor than fighting for what you desire and claiming it. No matter his background, any warrior may challenge another and take all he owns. Women battle for their love without hesitation, often fighting each other to claim a powerful warrior as their life mate. Merchants and traders steal each other's secrets through intrigue and betrayal.

None hesitate and none judge, for life here is short and unpredictable.

The heat and cold are harsh and merciless. Each year, there is less game to hunt and less resources to pull from to survive. Monsters roam the lands. Serpents fly through the skies and breathe flames. Stones come to life and seek destruction. The very elements give birth to spirits and creatures of unimaginable power, and if one is not strong of body and mind, a terrible end will come swiftly.

Each year, the situation worsens.

They say the steppe is dying.

Just like Sorocan described, they say my sacrifice will rejuvenate the land.

I should be proud. Glowing.

Yet, I still want no part of this.

My only wish is to find that missing piece of my heart. To return my memories and find where I truly belong.

The first night of the Conclave arrives too swiftly. Obtaining my vow that I will not try anything foolish, Sorocan agrees to let me venture out and partake in the celebrations. I'm dressed up in a lovely leather and cotton dress, my wrists and ankles cuffed with jingling bracelets, and my ears adorned with glimmering earrings. Sorocan takes me around the stalls to greet the people, bringing two warriors to guard me and ensure I don't try to escape again. We traverse winding rows of makeshift shops. It's a beautiful evening and an even more beautiful sight and experience. Roaring fires, handmade decorations of all shapes and colors, and people shining with ardor and passion as they trade, barter, and show off their craftsmanship. All comes together in a kaleidoscope of colors, scents, and sounds.

Despite all of this, my heart is dead as stone.

We meet other Chieftains, and I'm showered with gifts and praise and "thank-you's". As if any of these things could make me feel any less forlorn. All I want is to escape from here, yet I'm paraded around like our Tribe's prized possession. So many see me, yet none comment on my sickly complexion and the distinct lack of life in my eyes. They don't really see me. Just the Kismet. To them, I don't even have a name. Despite everything, I try not to despair. Instead, I look around at the wealth of strangers and pray that I'll find a familiar face to jog my memories. I pray that the tattoo on my wrist might guide me to my other half, that one lost piece of my heart that I so yearn for.

As the final stop of the evening, Sorocan takes me to see the warriors who will be competing this year for the title of Champion. The men have set up carved wooden fences in the shape of a great big circle to act as a ring of combat. The first series of matches of the Conclave is to take place tonight, and the tension and excitement is palpable among those visiting the area to get a glimpse of the fighters. The yurts here are packed with adoring women. Whispers and gossip abound between blushing cheeks and excited maidenly squealing. Apparently, there is a new warrior competing this year who has already earned quite a reputation for himself. They call him Arataan - the White Wolf - and they say he has a strength and power bestowed by the Gods themselves. He's challenged other warriors already, and so far he is undefeated.

"My sister saw him riding in with the Chieftain of the East," one girl whispers to her giggling friends. "She said he's bigger than a bear."

"My lak'lah caught a glimpse of him earlier in the day," another girl says. "She couldn't stop talking about how strange he looks. He was an Outsider once, wasn't he?"

Sorocan is conversing with another Speaker in a different part of the yurt. Since she holds my leash, I can't stray too far from her. So, I settle in to listen to the gossiping women. Talking about the warriors isn't something I'm interested in, but I suppose my curiosity is piqued. I've hardly spoken to any of the girls in our Tribe, but they seem unusually excited about the arrival of this one man.

"There is nothing strange about him," a curvy young woman with braided long hair smiles. "He is so handsome that no words can describe him."

"Did you see him?" a girl to her right asks, grabbing at her shoulder.

"I did. He has eyes like rubies and hair that's silver like a shooting star."

The girls all gasp and sigh.

Silver hair and red eyes? How unusual. Most of the people in the Tribes have dark hair and eyes except the Northerners. He must have been born with a mark of the Gods, much like me. Had he been a woman, he might have been chosen to be the Kismet. Then, I could have been the mighty warrior instead of just a helpless Priestess. The thought makes me smile, and I suppress the urge to giggle at how ridiculous that sounds.

"He will be the Champion for sure," a girl squeaks with excitement. "He already defeated Batu of the North and Tögöldör of the South. They were both Champions the last two Conclaves. I wish I could have seen Batu's face. He's always saying he's the strongest in the land."

"I want to give the White Wolf my pouch this year," one of them swoons. "I've already made one in case I find someone I like."

Another girl laughs. "You and a hundred others. I'll be he'll have a whole basket of pouches to choose from when the Conclave is done."

A tap on my shoulder breaks me from my thoughts. Sorocan stands over me, and I get to my feet to follow her to her next destination. As we exit the yurt, she begins leading us to the warriors' quarters. We trudge up a small hill to a secluded set of dwellings. Before entering, Sorocan stops me.

"Because of the struggles so many of our Tribes have faced these past years, the Chieftains and Speakers have decided to augment our traditions. This year, the Champion and several of the strongest warriors will be paired with girls of our choosing."

I tilt my head, only half listening. "Paired?"

"To couple and bear children for the sake of the Tribe's continued survival."

I stare at Sorocan blankly, not sure why she's telling me all this.

"Kismet, it is within your power to pass the blessing of the Gods to those you touch. I must ask you to do this now for our strongest warriors. Bless them with your power. Give our warriors the strength to fight so we can choose the most worthy to continue our bloodline."

I put my hands on my hips, my throat growing tight. I can't believe this woman is asking me for a favor when all she's done is imprison and ridicule me. "No," I tell her. "I refuse."

Sorocan's eyes grow narrow. She frowns at me. "Even in this, you will rebel? When it costs you nothing to touch a warrior's shoulder and give him the gift of inspiration?"

I look at her long and hard, contemplating my options. How badly does she need this? Do I have enough leverage to use it to my advantage? I try to read her body language, but I'm tired and drained. Today has been too eventful. I've done more walking, speaking, and interacting than than I've done in weeks. I cross my arms over my chest, deciding that there's really nothing for me to lose.

"If you want this from me, you will give me something in return."

Sorocan's hand tightens on her cane. A cleft forms between her white eyebrows.

"Speak your terms, then. However, your freedom isn't negotiable."

I hesitate, trying to form my end of the bargain the right way. What can I ask that might sound like a small request unrelated to my ceremony? What can I ask for that might sound like something an ordinary girl might wish for before her death? I don't want Sorocan to know she hasn't broken me yet. If she realizes that I still have hope, she might tighten my guard again. 

"I want to meet the White Wolf."

The words tumble out of my mouth before I can think them through. For some reason, he's the first thing that popped into my mind.

"The Arataan?" Sorocan asks, her brows shooting up into the air. "Don't tell me you're taken in by all the gossip about him." Suddenly, she looks suspicious. "Don't tell me that you saw him and were charmed by his good looks. Let me remind you, child. You are no ordinary maiden. You are spoken for by our Divine."

"So I am not allowed to fall in love like other girls? To give a pouch to a warrior I favor?"

Sorocan looks angered now. I want nothing to do with love or pouches. At this point, all of that seems like a frivolous joke. I just want to get a rise out of the Speaker. To make her feel even half the frustration that's in my heart. 

"The Kismet only loves her Divine."

I shake my head. "I simply want to meet him." 

"Impossible," Sorocan says. "The Kismet is a symbol of purity and virtue. Your one and only partner shall be your Divine in the heavens. You shall not be left alone with any man at any point in time."

I squash down my frustration. Spitefulness takes over. "Then, may I bless him with you beside me?"

I can't help it. I can see my words have angered our Speaker, and the bitter pleasure that runs through me is just delicious. How else can I ruin her day? Heck, how else can I ruin this entire Conclave? If I make a nuisance of myself, surely they will hate me so much they will just throw me out of the Tribe. If I'm supposed to be a symbol of purity and virtue –

Stars.

An idea strikes me. Vile and terrible. But, I'm desperate. I have no recourse. 

"Sorocan," I begin, forcing my expression into one of embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I've just realized that what I'm saying is pretty ridiculous and selfish."

The Speaker doesn't answer.

"I'm sorry. So, will you let me step back and ask for something else?"

My pleading tone must have worked. The Speaker grumbles but tells me to continue.

"I still haven't accepted what you've told me about my role as the Kismet. I still don't want to be a part of the ceremony. But, maybe it's because I don't remember anything about the Tribe. I can't identify with something I can't remember."

Sorocan glares at me. "You've never shown any interest in regaining your memories of our people, and you've never expressed any concern about our plight. What's come over you?"

"After seeing everyone today, I figured out some things for myself. I see how beautiful our culture is and how hard everyone is working for this Conclave. Can you please let me continue watching the festival and meeting other people? Maybe something will help me remember. Maybe if I remember my connection to these men and women, I'll be more ready to surrender..." I take a dramatic deep breath, "...and be the sacrifice."

It takes some more convincing, but Sorocan agrees to give me some independence during the Conclave. She can't afford to ignore the possibility that I might become a willing participant in her plans.

We go into the warriors' yurts, and I bless the fighters one by one as promised. It is clear whom the Gods have chosen, for when I touch their shoulders my hands light up with a brilliant golden light. Those warriors are tapped and led away, likely to have the conversation about their new duties this year.

In this way, I meet all of our fighters. All except the White Wolf. According to Sorocan, he is undergoing some kind of ritual prior to the first fights tonight and doesn't want to be disturbed. I wonder how a mere warrior has the right to refuse a visit from a Speaker and blessings from the Kismet. He must be much more important than I realize.

Once the blessings are done, Sorocan takes me to the Speaker's throne in the makeshift arena. It's a series of ornately carved wooden chairs called the Honored Seats. The length of their legs is adjusted based on hierarchy. The Chieftains sit in the highest seats with the Speakers just below them. All others sit on the ground to watch the combat. The Kismet sits with the Speaker, and as we find our seats and wrap ourselves in some wool shawls, the Game Master blows a colossal onyx horn to signal the start of the event. The ground shakes beneath our feet from the deep earthy bellow.

Warriors enter the ring in order of rank based on their prowess. They're dressed in traditional garb: loose cotton pants to allow for ease of movement, leather boots to give traction on the ground while fighting, and a leather piece of armor on the chest. Each fighter wears a thick corded necklace around his neck. As the fights progress, wool braids of different colors will be hung on them for each of the warriors' victories. I wring my hands together as men of various heights and builds march onto the field, holding my breath until I finally see him.

The White Wolf enters the ring last, marking him as the strongest of the fighters. I can't make out his features from this distance, but the first thing that catches my eye is his shining crown of white hair. It isn't styled like a typical warrior's cut. In fact, there's absolutely nothing "typical" about this man. His necklace is already covered in braids, showing off the victories that earned him his place in this pecking order. Added to those braids are various vicious looking fangs from beasts and monsters.

The gossip I'd heard in the yurt earlier that day was absolutely accurate. He is massive. As he passes the other warriors, he towers over them. His shoulders are big and broad. The leather armor on his chest is more revealing than the others, showing off his incredible physique. With each step, his muscles ripple in waves. He's shaped like a lean predator, and everything about his stance says that he's ready to strike at any moment. Each step he takes is graceful and measured.

My hands tighten, wadding together parts of my thick skirt. So, this is the man that will decide my fate. I must find a way to meet him alone and undisturbed. My life depends on it. 

As the warriors all bow respectfully to the audience, the three strongest approach our seating area to pay respect to the Chieftains, Speakers, and the Kismet. My body grows tense. As they near us, I can finally make out the White Wolf's features. My eyes trace his chiseled jaw, muscular neck, and aquiline nose. His silver eyebrows arch gracefully over sharp slanted blood red eyes. It's a color more beautiful than any I remember seeing. My heart stills in my chest.

Suddenly, my wrist is burning.

I rub my other hand against it, flinching at the pain.

It's like a snake is wrapping around my arm.

Tighter and tighter.

And then I realize it. The closer the three warriors come to us, the more painful the pressure on my wrist. My eyes go wide. It's one of these men!

One of these warriors is the person I've been seeking!

It takes all of my willpower not to fly to my feet and shout. After all, I've made a bargain with Sorocan. I'm supposed to be learning the ways of these people so I can resign myself to my fate. Frustrated, I search the warriors' faces for any sign that they feel the same discomfort. Maybe they have a mark, too. Would it react to mine? Would they even be aware of it?

"Greetings, proud combatants," our Chieftain says as he rises to his feet. He stretches out his arms, and his red, orange, and earth toned wool robes spread out around him like a hawk's mighty wings. "As you know, this Conclave is different from many others. In this time of darkness and difficulty, it is even more vital that we elevate the strongest among us to preserve our traditions and fight for the continuation of our Tribes." He gestures of the Ring and the fighters within.

"This tradition has been held for hundreds of years. Our strongest fight with all their strength to take the title of Champion. With that title, comes great reward. Glory, honor, and of course the Champion's jewel –" he reaches into a chest sitting before him and takes out a multi-layered silver chain. Attached to it is a fiery red gem about the size of my palm. "The gem called Daybreak!"

Whispers break out around those seated around the Ring as the Chieftain shows it to all. "The last time we held this Conclave, it was I who claimed Daybreak for my own. Now, I offer to pass it to the next Champion." The Chieftain looks down at the White Wolf and the warriors to his left and right.

"Batu of the North," he calls. The warrior to the right of the White Wolf crosses his big fist over his chest and kneels down. He has short golden hair with a single thin braid stretching down past his shoulders. On the end, I see a few colored beads and an emerald hued feather.

"Tögöldör of the South," the Chieftain nods. The warrior to the left of the White Wolf mimicks the actions of Batu and also kneels before our leader. His hair is dark as night and flows down to his waist in a thick braid.

"We have a new addition to our most honored warriors. Arataan, the White Wolf. Once, he was an Outsider. Yet, he has proven to us that he is blessed by the Gods themselves. The Speakers have welcomed him into the Eastern Tribe. He is now their strongest and fiercest!"

The audience goes wild with cheers and cries of support, particularly the women. Though Tögöldör and Batu remain reserved and expressionless, the other warriors standing in the Ring don't look pleased in the least. The White Wolf's expression is hard to read. I can't imagine a greater honor than standing before the Chieftains and receiving the adoration and admiration of all the Tribes and their leaders like this. Yet, he looks entirely disinterested.

The Chieftain waves for the crowd to calm, and eventually silence fills the field again. "Brothers and sisters, as I have said this Conclave will be different from any prior to it. The Champion and the three strongest warriors will be paired with our loveliest maidens to couple and produce heirs that will carry the fire of our Tribes into the future."

More cheers from the crowd, even wilder this time. Apparently, the people approve of this spontaneous addition to the festivities. Once again, the Chieftain waves for the audience to quiet down.

"In addition to the Champion receiving Daybreak as his reward and having first choice of pairing partners, the Chieftains and Speakers have agreed to grant him a single wish. He may ask for any reward and claim it as his own without reservation." The Chieftain raises his hands high into the air. "Because these three warriors have proven themselves as the likeliest candidates for the title of Champion in the sacred Conclave, they may speak now and tell the Chieftains what their wishes might be."

He points - "Batu, speak your wish."

The golden-haired warrior rises to his feet. He thumps his fist across his chest. "My wish, honored leader, is to become the new Chieftain of the North and to carry on in my Father's footsteps!"

The Chieftain nods. "Granted. Fight, then, for that honor." He points to the next man - "Tögöldör, speak your wish."

The onyx-haired warrior rises to his feet. Much like Batu, he thumps his chest and states that he wishes to become the Chieftain of the South. Also like his father. The fact that both the warriors have the same wish tells me that this is nothing more than a grand show for the crowd. The Chieftains' sons will inherit the reins of their Tribe if they manage to win the title of Champion. More cheers this time. Even more deafening. I tune them out, focusing on the warriors.

Suddenly, the White Wolf's eyes jump to me, and from the second that our gazes meld, the mark around my wrist bursts into a fresh wave of agony. Chaotic images flash through my mind, but I can't make out any details. I waver dizzily in my seat, nausea rising in my belly. A throbbing pain begins to pound in my temple. My hands clench into fists until my nails dig into my palms.

"Child, are you alright?" Sorocan asks beside me. Her voice sounds so far away. I can't break away from the White Wolf's gaze, and before my wide eyes he lifts his right hand and tugs down his glove as though adjusting it. My body breaks out in cold sweat. A thousand needles stab into the nerves along my spine. Goosebumps cover my arms. There, wrapped around his muscled forearm is a mark identical to mine.

"Arataan, speak your wish for all to hear," the Chieftain shouts, his voice piercing through my trance.

The White Wolf looks towards our leader and takes a few steps forward. He does not thump his chest or lower his head. His chin remains tilted up in a regal and arrogant manner as his full sensual lips curve into a satisfied smirk.

"I have one wish," he calls. His voice is deep and dark, like the rumbling of thunder in a wild storm. My heart pounds in my chest as he places one hand on his hip. "But, really, I don't need to speak it. If you do not allow me to claim what is rightfully already mine, then I will take it by force."

Hushed whispers and murmurs ripple through the crowd. The Chieftain doesn't seem intimidated. In fact, he seems impressed. "Speak, then. Tell us your desire."

Slowly, deliberately, the White Wolf raises his large hand and points a finger towards the Honored Seats.

"That woman there is mine," he says.

My heart stops in that moment, for there is no doubt that he is pointing directly at me.

[wordsofoleander]

🌸 answer me, my prince!

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

a suave prince with all he could ever ask for. a starry-eyed editor who longed for more. two unexpected penpals from vastly different worlds.

they were undoubtedly fated to meet, but never face-to-face.

❥ 735 words ❥ tags: au, fluff, slightly angsty if you blink, very very self-indulgent, no beta we die like chads, mentions of cove, qiu, and my ol2 mc! ❥ notes: the hyperfixation was so strong i emerged from inactivity. i finished the comic this fic shares a title with last weekend and refused to move on,,, made for #baxtermcweek (day 4 prompt: au), hosted by @minthe-drawings

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

He doesn’t realize how long he’s repeatedly been opening and closing the empty book chest until he slams it shut a little too loud, snapping him out of his reverie. His eyes dart left and right and his ears stay alert in case he accidentally woke anyone up.

He hears nothing, so hopefully the coast is clear. He opens the book chest again, and the letter he’s waited all night for sits perfectly inside, having appeared out of thin air. 

He needs not wait to carefully examine the envelope or admire its design (far more cleaner-cut and colorful than what he's received from others over the years) as he immediately gets to reading.

—

Prince Baxter Alexander.

You’re getting better at pressuring me to reply to you faster and faster. It scares me a little.

Regarding your story, I think what you did for their sake was quite admirable. I can’t even imagine going as far as to pretend to be Cove’s fiancée for his protection, let alone for 5 years! But back to you. Since you didn’t end up falling in love with each other, does this mean Lady Ysabel’s lover is much more good-looking than you are? Would you mind getting a portrait of the Laird Qiu for your friend?

—

Silly Iri.

(You’ve never asked me for my portrait. You wound me. Nonetheless, I forgive you.)

You of all people should be able to know that not every long-standing friendship necessarily has the potential to end in romance.

—

Like us?

—

We are a bit of a special case because I do not think of Ysabel every day.

—

(Oh, what am I going to do with you?)

Ever the type to give people the answers they want to hear now, are you? You’re surrounded by far more impressive people in your daily life, people you can actually talk to and see.  I highly doubt that you think of me every day.

(PS It’s way past midnight, so I should probably get ready for bed if I don’t want to be late for work. Sleep well, my prince.)

—

Irina Clarice, my sick twisted friend.

What? Is laying my entire self bare to you, heart and soul, in the written word last night not enough for you? After all the times I’ve spent my evenings waiting for your letters?

I specifically chose this time of year to get away from my parents under the guise of avoiding the heat and helping the monks at the scriptorium. Summer, after all, is the perfect time to do something crazy, pursue a new beauty, to start anew. I confess to you that I imagined nightly sneak-outs to rendezvous with someone who’s caught my eye, but all this time, I’ve been holed up in the scriptorium’s writing room, idly and politely waiting by the book chest on my desk in anticipation to see if you have replied to what I’ve written about my latest misadventures. Before I knew it, I’d already spent the entirety of my summer getting to know you. Now I do know you, and there is no one else like you anywhere else in the world. 

Tragically, we shall never have the chance to meet, so I don’t think whatever it is I’m feeling in my chest can be called love. My fate is sealed. 

Still, whenever the sight of someone so beautiful catches my eye, thoughts of you fill my head, and I become almost upset, complaining that no matter who I meet, they will never be anything like my Iri. So, my dear friend, do not tell me that I do not think of you every day. 

I do not recall you mentioning having felt this way towards your childhood companions, nor your devilishly handsome Xander from the antique shop,  so I shall regrettably but with dignity take this as a victory.

On a lonely night on the month of heat’s end, Your Baxter Alexander.

(PS Clarence and I are departing tomorrow at dawn for Golden Grove to attend Qiu’s wedding, just in time for the beginning of fall. Bringing the book chest with me would be far too bothersome for such a short trip. I expect to be away for about three to four days.

Even so, worry not your pretty little head and get a good night’s rest without my letters to bother you, Iri. I hope you do not miss me too much.)

[lovemebutleavemewild]

Leave it to the land - Chapter 3.

The world has ended, it's over—except some people can't seem to accept that. Those same people think the cure lies in people like you and your little sister. And they're willing to do anything to find it.

The road to safety is a long one, and you're about to learn that it isn't one you can walk alone.

Read it on ao3.

Tag list: @elentiyaiswriting

You manage to stay awake for most of the night, although you're sure you start to doze at some stage.

You spend most of the time going over what happened on the fire escape and cursing yourself. You'd always been afraid of heights but this time, you'd gone completely to pieces. And in front of Ghost, of all people. You were trying to make these men your allies, while making it clear that you wouldn't take anyone messing with you or Dot.

Hard to take someone seriously when they can't even climb a ladder, you think to yourself bitterly.

All in all, you've had better mornings and you're grumpy as you try to scrounge together some breakfast for yourself and Dot. Soap and Ghost each have those ready meals you've seen soldiers eat. You have one protein bar left and give her the bigger half. It's actually a few months out of date but you can't really afford to stick your nose up so you decide to chance it.

After you've all eaten, you stand around kind of awkwardly, not sure what to say or do.

Eventually Soap glances at Ghost and clears his throat.

“So, we've decided to take ye’ up on yer deal.” Your heart leaps. He holds up a finger.

“On the condition that you give us the general location we're going.” He sees you open your mouth and continues before you can start. “It's the only way we can plot the best route.”

You shut your mouth and scowl.

“How do you know I don't already know the best route?”

Soap scoffs.

“If you did, you wouldn't still be here.”

Your scowl deepens.

“I know how to get out—it's just doing it that's hard. We're a little low on weapons, in case you haven't noticed.”

Of course they've noticed, you think, and once again you've pointed out how vulnerable you are, as if it weren't obvious.

You don’t even know why you’re arguing. You should be delighted at this turn of events. You've got two obviously skilled soldiers willing to accompany you to meet Kyle. And they're friends of his. This is exactly what you'd been hoping for. And yet, now that the offer is on the table, you're having doubts.

There's nothing to say they're telling the truth about being friends with Kyle. They recognised his patch, sure, but they could have picked up that information from somewhere else. You could be leading a trap right to him.

Another thing: you can't stay awake around them every night—you're already feeling the effects of not sleeping the night before. Doing this would mean trusting them enough to let your guard down, at least a little, and you’re not sure you can do that.

But then you look at Dot and remember the last few months of trying to find enough to eat, close encounters with tier fives, and government sentries and bounty hunters who wouldn't hesitate for a second to hand you back to the research centre.

Your little sister has an almost permanent pinched look on her face like she's spent every moment of the last few months afraid. You know you can't go on like this for much longer, either of you.

Which means you don't have a choice.

Soap produces a paper map and you use it to point out the direction you'll need to go.

“So we're leaving now then?” You're feeling antsy and want to move. The dead have wandered off during the night, but you know they won't have gone far.

“Soon,” Soap assures you. “We just need to make a stop first.”

“A stop?” you ask suspiciously. “A stop where?”

“Safehouse. Like the one Kyle told you about.” You must look confused because he goes on.

“We each know about a few of the safehouses, not all of ‘em. We’re not sure where the one Kyle showed you is but the one I’m on aboot isn’t far from here”

“How many-”

“That's enough.” You startle and look at Ghost but he's glaring at Soap, who shrugs.

“Why do we need to go there?” You ask.

“We'll need more ammo and they might be able to get us transport to the edge of the city.”

You have to admit that's tempting. You consider asking who “they” are but one look at Ghost’s tense stature tells you it won’t do any good. So with the increasingly familiar feeling of not having any choice in the matter, you agree.

Your trip through the city is quiet in the early morning. You naturally take up your positions from before, with Soap leading the way, you and Dot walking behind him, and Ghost bringing up the rear.

You find yourself missing Dot’s voice. She usually kept up a quiet but constant chatter while you walked, but she's barely said a word the last few days. You get it—you find Ghost and Soap scary enough, you can't imagine how much worse that is for a little kid. You see her glancing at Ghost’s mask sometimes, then quickly away.

You silently take her hand in yours as you walk. She still doesn't say anything but you feel her squeeze your hand hard.

After some time, Soap holds up clenched fist, and you hear Ghost come to a stop. A second later you feel something touch your elbow and flinch away.

Ghost holds up a placating hand, then points to a building up ahead.

“This is us. When we go in, let us do the talking.”

You nod. Your patience for meeting new people is at breaking point anyway.

You pull Dot closer to you as the four of you move into an alleyway.

Soap knocks on a door, which opens almost immediately. You hear him talking quietly to someone, jerking his head back at you and Dot. You start to feel uncomfortable and you're about to say something when the door opens fully and Soap gestures you inside.

The room is small and dim. The person inside is wearing a mask, much like Ghost’s, but plain. Soap and Ghost stand close to them and talk some more, while you hang awkwardly behind them, Dot tucked behind you.

Eventually Soap turns to you.

“We'll be back in a few minutes. You stay here.”

Now, you are going to argue—splitting up and leaving you with an, almost definitely armed stranger, was not part of the plan, but Soap and Ghost are already gone.

You consider pulling out your knife but resist the urge, instead just keeping a wary eye on the person in the mask, who has stayed behind and is now watching you without speaking.

You take a seat and settle in for what turns out to be a long wait. Your leg shakes nervously and you make an effort to sit still.

A sudden noise from a walkie on the table makes you startle. The person in the mask picks it up and talks into it for a few seconds.

Then they leave, giving you a long look before they go.

You wait for another while, until almost half an hour has passed, getting more and more antsy by the minute.

After you've chewed through most of your fingernails, you make a decision. You kneel down to look at Dot.

“I just want to have a quick look around, okay?” When she starts to shake her head, you put a hand to her hair and shush her.

“Just to see if everything is okay, in case something’s holding them up. 10 minutes top, okay?”

When she nods reluctantly, you press a quick kiss to her forehead.

You keep her behind you, letting her hold the back of your shirt so you can keep your hands free.

The corridor outside is surprisingly bright compared to the dim room you just left. There are a few doors along it but you don’t open them, scared to attract attention. At the end of the hall, there are a few doors with glass panes—you make a beeline for these instead.

Peering into the first, you jerk your head back when you realise there are people inside. You look again, more carefully. A woman wearing gloves is drawing blood from a man’s arm. You duck underneath the door and make your way to the next room.

What you see there is familiar, even if the set up is a little different. There are different sized items of glassware sitting on a bench. Some of them are filled with liquid. Petri dishes are laid out under some microscopes and a computer monitor is set up, though the tiny text is too far away for you to read from outside. It doesn’t matter. You know what this is.

It’s a lab.

Your breath starts coming a little faster. Idiot, you think to yourself. You’d spent so long trying to get out of the facility and now you've walked right back into one. Soap and Ghost have clearly led you right into a trap. They were probably negotiating their price for the pair of you right now.

Well, whatever experiments they're running here, you want nothing to do with it, for you or Dot.

“Come on, Dot,” you whisper, and hurry back along the hall, still half bent so you can't be spotted through the glass topped doors.

You get back to the room and immediately go to the door leading to the alley, only to find it locked. You whirl around and start looking for a key but the room is almost completely empty, apart from the chairs you'd just vacated.

You go back to the door into the hallway, and yank it open, determined to find either a key or something to batter the door down, only to walk straight into something solid.

You bounce back like you've hit a brick wall and look up. You've just walked straight into Ghost. He makes no move to steady you and just stares.

“Going somewhere?” he asks you, folding his arms over his chest.

You swallow, mouth dry and back up, sweeping Dot behind you with one arm. As if it'll do you any good.

You barely notice Soap enter the room. He looks at you, frozen, half crouched in front of Dot, arms spread protectively, then at Ghost, raising his eyebrows.

“Alrigh’?" he asks, glancing between you both. Neither of you answer and he shakes his head.

“Grand, so. You guys ready?”

You blink at him.

“Ready?”

“Uh … yeah? We're all stocked up and we were able to get a car with half a tank—should be enough to get us to the edge of the city. We can find our own way from there.”

“And what did that cost?” There's a hard edge to your voice that makes Soap cock his head at you. He must think you're a fucking idiot. A fair appraisal considering your behaviour so far, but you're done trusting them now, Kyle or no Kyle. If these guys are involved with the research centre, you need to put as much space between you and them as possible. But if they’ve sold you out, why is Soap still keeping up the act?

You remember what Ghost said about the other safehouses. Maybe they've been hired to take you to another lab for testing, with you following them, docile as lambs to slaughter.

“It's paid for, doll, no worries.”

Well, if they think you're dumb enough to go along with whatever they have planned, maybe it's best you go along with it. After all, you still need a way out of the city and you're not getting out of this building without them.

“Right, let's go then.”

Soap nods, and you realise the person from before is back. They let you out onto the street again. They still don’t speak and the sound of the door closing and locking behind you is loud in the quiet.

The car is in an underground garage, which is locked until Soap says something into another intercom and the roller door trundles open.

The engine stutters for a few seconds when Soap turns the keys but eventually roars to life. Ghost gets shotgun so you take the backseat with Dot, who peers out the window, wide-eyed. She won't remember the last time she'd been in a car, you realise. So many things you'd taken for granted in your old life are still novel to her.

The drive is quiet and you spend the time making your own plan.

As long as Soap and Ghost think you trust them, you have leverage. You'll get as far as you can with them, then make a break with Dot. How you'll do that remains to be seen but you'll have to figure that out later. Having some idea of what you’re going to do doesn’t help you relax much but the toil of the day and the lack of sleep from the night before finally catch up to you and you find yourself dozing.

You wake to Dot shaking your arm. The car has stopped and the landscape has changed. You're close to the edge of the city now and in front of you, a forest stretches further than you can see.

“Just about out of petrol,” Soap tells the car at large. “We’ll hide the car for the guys to come collect, but we're on foot from here. Let's try and get going while we've still got a few hours of sunlight left.”

[plague-of-insomnia]

The Promise AU: A Sebard Love Story

I’m very proud of this AU, and it’s very personal for me. I realized I couldn’t find a post for the first part of this series here on tumblr. So I decided to make a new post with links to all the currently published parts of this story. I would love if you read it and commented if you enjoyed it!

Please see individual pieces for their ratings and tags, as they vary.

Part I: The Promise

Sebastian pressed his head against Bard’s chest as if he were trying to meld them as one, letting loose a long, drawn-out sigh. “What’dyou do this time,” he mumbled, his breathing beginning to even out.

Bard held Sebastian, rubbing the other’s back in soft, soothing circles, rolling his eyes and scoffing. “Why does everyone assume I’m to blame?”

Relaxing further, the tall man began to grow heavy against Bard. “Tell me again, please?”

Bard wrapped a leg around one of Sebastian’s, as if his arms weren’t enough to keep his husband secure. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not today, not ever. I will protect you. I promise .”

Part II: Staying Afloat

Bard carefully perched on the edge of the bed beside his husband and linked his fingers with Sebastian’s far longer, more elegant ones, smoother, not covered in calluses and old burns. “We will get through this. Together. I promise.”

That made Sebastian smile faintly, even as tears struggled to break through. He refused to let them fall. Not now. He had shed more than enough over the past few weeks, and he was ready to stop wallowing in self pity and start trying to fight again. It was tiring being buffeted by waves constantly, but he wasn’t alone. He had someone to hold him when he felt ready to give in to keep him from sliding beneath the surface. Someone to help him stay afloat, to support and cherish him.

Part III: A Hopeful Halloween

“I got to cross ‘virgin’ off my sex bucket list.”

“Bard . . . I wasn’t—”

Shaking him subtly, as if to emphasize his point, Bard stared hard into his husband’s eyes, to leave no doubt that he was sincere. “You were to me.”

Sebastian’s lip and chest trembled. He slapped a hand over his mouth, but a sob burst through anyway.

“Hey, hey, shit. I’m sorry. I‘m an idiot. Forget I said anything.”

Sniffling, Sebastian shook his head emphatically. “Thank you.” He drew his fingers along Bard’s sideburn, scratching the stubble, making his husband shiver. “You never saw me as tainted, did you?”

Surprised, Bard replied, “Never.”

Part IV: Riptide

Kissing Bard always felt like coming home .

A home that Sebastian actually wanted. A home where he felt safe and loved. Licking his lips, savoring the taste of cigarettes and beer and Bard , he stared into his husband’s beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that had never looked at him with pity or disgust.

Absently, he trailed his fingers along Bard’s five o’clock shadow; he’d always loved the way the stubble tickled. A stark difference from the near flawless, hairless, overly-soft skin of his uncle.

Sebastian wanted to tell Bard out loud how much he appreciated and loved him, but the words caught in his throat.

Part V & Part VI: Coming Soon

Fan art originally by @geekeciel

[2baddiesfanfics]

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

Pairing: Nobara x Maki

Tags: Gift Giving, Birthday, Birthday Sex, Bracelets, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering

Summary:

Nobara’s birthday is swiftly approaching, and Maki is at a complete loss as to what to get her. In an effort to make the most significant impact she can, she consults Panda, Inumaki, Gojo, Megumi, and Yuji for ideas. What she walks away with isn’t what she expected, but it certainly conveys her feelings.

Read on Ao3

Sweat dripped off Maki’s brow and splattered onto the floor of the training room as she whipped her spear around and lunged at an imaginary foe. Working out always took her mind off things when she was at a complete loss for what to do.

Although she normally exuded confidence in everything she did, she wasn’t exactly what anyone would call a romantic. In the few years they had been together, Nobara had become her everything. She cared so deeply about her that sometimes it frightened her (not a simple feat).

While she had no doubt she could protect her physically, in the back of her mind she was always worried her stoic nature would bore Nobara to the point she’d leave her for someone who shared more similar interests, or - her true worry - someone more attractive.

While her obsession with shopping and keeping up with the latest fashion trends often made Maki roll her eyes when she wasn’t looking, she also wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothing would beat the feeling that bubbled up inside her when Nobara emerged from a dressing room to ask what Maki thought of the outfit she was wearing.

She’d never get used to the idea that anyone cared about her opinion, let alone took it seriously. Growing up as a member of an esteemed clan was one thing - it was another entirely to be seen as less than useless due to the lack of her ability to see curses.

Nobara, of course, didn’t give a shit. As a matter of fact, it only made her respect her more. It was one of the many reasons Maki loved her. She saw her not as a Zenin, but as an individual with her own ambitions and dreams.

And that was why Maki was now wearing herself ragged.

Nobara’s birthday was swiftly approaching and she had absolutely no idea what to get her. Before they were dating seriously, Maki would always go with safe options. Nothing too expensive as to scare her off, but also nothing she felt truly conveyed exactly what her presence in her life meant to her, either.

But that was about to change. She was about to embark on a mission. Who would be better to ask than the people who she worked closest with? Nobara’s former classmates-turned-coworkers (and the one annoying sensei they shared) had been on far more missions and spent way more time with her over the last few years than she had.

But first, she’d consult her own team.

——————-

“Wow, Maki. It’s not usually like you to ask the two of us for advice,” Panda said with an inquisitive look on his face. “This must be important.”

“Salmon,” Inumaki nodded in agreement.

The three had been through a lot together, and Maki knew they’d spent enough time around both her and Nobara to at least get her brain churning. She let out a deep sigh and let her head fall onto Panda’s fuzzy shoulder.

“Nobara’s birthday is coming up and I’m sick of getting her frivolous things anyone could think of. There are only so many designer bags I can bring myself to buy,” she said with a huff. Selfishly, she was also admittedly getting tired of having the clerks at these upscale stores look at her like she was out of her depth.

“Hmmm…you two are always working so hard, but you tend to be sent on missions without each other, right? Inumaki and I see you way more often. Why don’t you research a trendy new restaurant? I always see her food photos on social media, and it would be a good chance to bond over a nice meal,” Panda suggested.

Maki liked the idea, but it wasn’t really a gift in her mind. What was so special about going out to eat?

“That’s not a bad thought, Panda, but it just seems too…simple. I don’t want her to think that I believe time with me is a present in and of itself. It just seems a bit egotistical.”

“Tuna,” Inumaki tapped his smartphone and showed it to her. The screen revealed a cute top with a not-so-cute price tag for such a flimsy item of clothing. Maki was quite impressed with his fashion sense. She had no doubt in her mind it would look fabulous on Nobara, but it still wasn’t quite right.

Inumaki placed his hand on Maki’s. “Mustard leaf?”

“Yeah, I’m ok. Thanks for trying, Inumaki. It’s not that you don’t have good taste. I think I just have to reflect on it a bit more. I really do appreciate the both of you,” she said with a soft smile as she gave both of their shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

—————-

“Well, well, well! What brings you back to Jujutsu tech, Maki?” Gojo chimed, his feet propped up on his office desk.

Her eyes betraying her annoyance, she took a deep breath. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to be coming to her old sensei for his opinion, but needed to keep her cool if she was going to get anything close to a thoughtful answer out of him.

“Look, Gojo. You’ve spent enough time mentoring Nobara when she was still in school to know a different side of her, right? Her birthday is coming up and I want to get your take on what she might like.”

“My, my, you’re secretly quite the romantic, aren’t you Maki? Who would have guessed?”

Maki quickly rose to her feet. “I knew I shouldn’t have even fucking bothered…”

“Wait! Wait. I’m just giving you a hard time. As a former student, Nobara’s just as important to me as you are, Maki. I know I rarely take things seriously, but you two deserve the happiness you’ve found with each other. Give me a moment.”

He cocked his head to the side, seemingly deep in thought. She hated that goofy-ass blindfold he always wore but, even though she couldn’t get a feel for what he was thinking by looking into his eyes, what he had just told her touched her.

“…what about a new hammer?”

Maki gave him an irritated blank stare.

“Hold on! Let me explain. You’re a weapon expert, right? Don’t pretend like you haven’t noticed she’s been using the same one since she came here from Tohoku. I know it has sentimental value, but you might be able to work with that somehow.”

For once, one of his moronic ideas kind of made sense.

“That’s not as terrible an idea as it originally sounded coming out of your mouth. I’ve still got Megumi and Yuji to consult, but I think you’ve brought me a little closer to something that might work…”

—————-

Maki could see her last two sources of intel hanging out at the bar of the restaurant they had selected as a meet-up point. As she approached, Yuji launched himself out of his seat to greet her.

“Maki-senpai! It’s so nice to see you!” He was always cheerful to the point of being annoying. If he were one of Megumi’s divine dogs, she’d swear his tail would be wagging non-stop. She’d never understand how her nephew could stand to be around him as often as he was even now that they had graduated.

“Yuji, I told you to drop the senpai. We aren’t in school anymore. It’s unnecessary.” Megumi smirked as he gave her a nod of acknowledgment. She signaled to the bartender and ordered a round of expensive drinks as a thank-you for their time.

“So…what’s the occasion?” Megumi inquired.

“As I’m sure you both…er, at least…as I’m sure Yuji knows, Nobara’s birthday is in a week. I’ve consulted Panda, Inumaki, and even Gojo as to what might be a good gift. Without a doubt, you two have been through more with her than I have, at least in a professional capacity. Do either of you have any idea of something that might really speak to her?”

Megumi and Yuji looked at each other inquisitively.

“Geez, Maki. How the hell would I know? Maybe like a fancy French perfume or something? Something that would stick with her throughout the day?” Megumi scratched the back of his neck. “I’m never any good at this stuff. Yuji, you’re her best friend. What do you think?”

“I mean…we’re still only entry-level so we don’t get paid as much as you, Maki-senpai.” She cringed at his continued use of the honorific. “Why not take her on a no-spending-limit shopping spree? An experience she’d never forget or not be able to replicate? You’ve seen the way she looks longingly when she walks past a designer store, right?”

While both of their answers were pretty much what she expected, at this point she felt she had enough notes to start to synthesize the perfect present. They sat and talked awhile, catching up on what their latest missions entailed before Maki headed back to her apartment.

———————

Maki sat on her couch staring at the framed photo of her and her girlfriend that hung proudly on the wall of her living room. Nobara’s smile in that picture made her heart pound as hard as the day it was taken on their first date.

I can’t fuck this up. We’ve been together for a good amount of time now. She deserves much more than I can give, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

Suddenly, her head snapped up. As dumb as all the men in her life could be at times, each of their answers contained an element that contributed to her final decision.

In the morning, she’d have to find a jeweler that could make it happen.

—————-

The day of Nobara’s birthday had arrived and Maki felt like she was going to throw up. She tried her best to hide her nerves throughout dinner but knew they’d be heading back to her place at the end of the night. She had no idea how Nobara was going to react when she opened the poorly wrapped box (Maki knew she should have had Mai help her out, but was much too proud to ask for her assistance - it wasn’t worth the teasing she’d have to endure).

“Maki? Hellooooo? You ready to go home?” Nobara had devoured her dessert and the time had come to pay the bill.

“Huh? Oh. Oh yea. I got it,” she signaled to the waiter and handed him her card.

“Babe…everything ok? It’s kind of hard to enjoy my birthday dinner when I can tell something is up,” she reached for her hand, and Maki slid her fingers through hers.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry. I just…have something on my mind. I’ll be fine once we get home. Promise,” she brought her hand to her lips and kissed the back of it.

“Ok, good. Because I plan to have something more than just the free ice cream they give out for birthdays,” she said seductively. Maki gulped.

I hope she still feels that way after she opens her gift…

—————

“Ok, I’m going to preface this by saying if you hate this, I can take it back. I know I don’t always have the best taste in what’s fashionable, so I don’t blame you if you think it’s hideous,” Maki spoke so fast Nobara could barely understand her.

“Hey! Hey,” Nobara cupped her cheek as she leaned her forehead against hers. “Maki, breathe. It’s just a birthday. I’m sure you put way too much effort into this. I know I’ll love it, whatever it is.”

Nobara peeled off the wrapping paper to reveal a small wooden box. Her nimble fingers undid the latch and opened it to reveal two thin, shiny, beautiful metal bracelets.

“Before you tell me to take them back, let me explain. First, I went to Panda and Inumaki. Panda’s suggestion had me consider our bond, while Inumaki showed me something you would wear,” Maki stated.

“Then, I swallowed my pride and consulted Gojo. That got me thinking about your weapon of choice and how you’ve honed your skill with it over the years. Finally, I got together with Megumi and Yuji last week for a final gut check. What Megumi said had me consider something that would linger with you whether you were out on the town or working, and finally, Yuji sparked the idea of something priceless or one-of-a-kind. Well, two-of-a-kind in this case,” she explained as she reached for one of the bracelets. “May I?”

Nobara’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she nodded in approval.

“Since you’re closest to Yuji, I had him sneak me a handful of the nails you usually fight with, and I found a jeweler who could melt them down and turn them into these. There’s one for each of us, and I had them designed in a way where they wouldn’t hinder our fighting ability while still looking…I don’t know, feminine would be the word, I guess?” She said while blushing.

Maki clasped the bracelet around Nobara’s wrist. As she pulled her hand away, Nobara reached forward, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into a deep kiss.

“I love it!” Nobara squealed when their lips finally parted. “I can’t believe you went through all of that just for a silly birthday gift. It’s so sweet of you, and I have to say, I’m impressed. In fact, let me show you how much I love it…”

She moved to bite and kiss Maki’s neck as her fingers started to unbutton the dress shirt she had put on for the occasion. Tossing it aside, she noticed Maki had worn the midnight black lacy bra Nobara had mentioned was her favorite on her. Her soft chuckle raised Maki’s tender skin under her lips.

“Aww, just for me? You shouldn’t have.”

“What can I - ahhh - say? I’m a giver,” Maki joked back between moans.

“That’s what I love about you,” Nobara whispered as she slid the straps off her shoulders. Leaning in, she toyed with her earlobe between her teeth before biting down lightly. “But now it’s my turn to thank you by giving you something.” The bra now lay forgotten on the floor.

“Ughhhh…Nobara,” Maki groaned from the cool air now sending goosebumps across her body.

Gently, she guided Maki to lay back on the seat cushions of the couch, her head now resting on the arm of the sofa. Kissing each breast, she took one of her already hard nipples into her mouth as she licked and grazed her teeth across the sensitive nub.

Nobara’s hands roamed to Maki’s pants and she lifted her hips to help her shed them. Maki shivered as the cool metal of the bracelet on Nobara’s wrist touched her inner thigh, her hand playing with her lover’s clothed entrance. She could already feel Maki’s wetness soaking through her panties.

“You sure do….ohhhhhh….like to take your time, huh?” Maki chided through her heavy breathing.

“Why rush to the good part? You need to be more patient, love,” Nobara’s head dipped lower as she licked from Maki’s defined stomach to her hips, leaving red bite marks on both sides. Making eye contact with Maki she placed the top of the fabric in her mouth and pulled her panties off with her teeth.

“Fuckkkk that’s hot,” Maki growled.

Making her way back up to her inner thighs, she kissed up and down, occasionally swiping her tongue across her clit.

“Nobara…I can’t…take it anymore. I need you inside me. Please!” Maki begged.

Grabbing one of the throw pillows on the couch, Nobara placed it underneath her lower half. Getting up from between her thighs, she placed her hand next to Maki’s head for support. Her fingertips slowly prodded her drenched entrance, and she felt Maki’s walls adjust to the width of the two digits she slipped inside.

Maki let out a noise of approval as Nobara continued to pump her fingers in time with the tongue she had slid into her mouth. They swallowed each other’s moans as Nobara’s thrusts came in faster pulses. The bracelet on her wrist could be heard jingling with her movements. Reaching her peak, Maki pulled Nobara’s face closer to hers as she shuttered around her fingers.

Maki hugged her girlfriend to her chest tightly. “So…you really like it? You’re not just being nice?” Her fingers toyed with the thin strand of metal as she looked at her for an honest answer.

“Maki. For someone who’s so self-assured on a battlefield, you need to have more confidence in yourself. I truly love it…almost as much as I love you.” Nobara kissed her cheek as she snuggled into the crook of her neck.

“I’m glad,” she said as she kissed the tip of her nose. “But you know…I do have one more gift for you.” The darkly seductive tone her voice took on sent a throb of heat directly to Nobara’s core.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

The faux innocence in her gaze drove Maki mad with lust. Snatching her arm, she brought her wrist to her mouth and placed a kiss directly under where her bracelet had come to rest. Maki heard a sharp inhale and smirked against her sensitive flesh.

“I think you know,” Maki muttered as she quickly grabbed and pulled her onto her lap. Nobara let out an excited shriek as Maki whipped her dress directly up and off of her. With practiced hands, she unhooked her bra and tossed it behind the couch. Reaching up to palm her breasts, Nobara let out a contented sigh.

“Mmmm…”

Maki’s hands traveled to her sides, pausing at her hips. Lifting Nobara to her knees with ease, she situated her face directly underneath Nobara’s pussy.

“Maki! What are you - ohhhhhhhh,” she hummed as she felt her trace her opening with her tongue.

“You taste so good, Nobara,” Maki’s muffled voice sent shivers across her body. Stabilizing herself on the arm of the sofa, Nobara began to rock in rhythm with Maki’s mouth. Maki’s grip on her ass as she rode her face almost made her come on the spot.

“Gods…Maki…fuck…”

“That’s right, baby. I’ve got you,” Maki paused to reassure her.

Barely holding on, as soon as Nobara felt her tongue apply pressure to her clit she had to catch herself to make sure she didn’t suffocate her as she found her release. Maki sat up and drew her to her.

“Happy birthday,” she said as she kissed her temple.

“Shit…I don’t know which gift I liked more,” Nobara replied with a laugh. She reached for the gift box that sat on the coffee table and took out the remaining piece of jewelry. Grabbing Maki’s arm, she fastened the bracelet to her.

Inspecting it, Maki chuckled. “I gotta say…these look even better when it’s the only thing we are wearing.”

[humberg]

Update.

Aaaah here we go. Hullo everyone, I'm not sure if any of you have noticed but I have been very absent the past week. Zero interactions, zero likes, zero reblogs, just zero interaction between both tumblr and discord.

I'm not usually one to talk about my struggles, especially regarding my mental health. I'm the type of person who closes myself off from the world, I will literally become a hermit and will refuse to acknowledge anything until the phase has passed. Unfortunately, it hasn't passed as of yet but I wanted to give an explanation or an update if you will on my absence. FYI I will be talking about very sensitive topics such as depression and suicide so please don't read ahead if you feel like you will be triggered by these. The last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable with something I want to get off my chest. So I've added a keep reading just to be safe.

Not many people know this about me, but I am the type of individual who will hide all my feelings and self-doubts from the public eye, it's just something my brain has accustomed itself to as I don't want to be a bother to anyone.

Due to this, I have a habit of letting it fester and grow to a toxic level up to where I reach breaking point. I admit that has happened to me recently, I had been neglecting the signs. Work has been an ongoing struggle in itself with my mental health and anxiety which is forever ongoing, there is also the recent random drama that appears in blips within the community that has been a major red flag for me to avoid. And I will admit that I honestly burnt myself out making that pose mod, to the point that I have not opened Cyberpunk since I completed it several weeks ago.

I became a danger to myself, and as a result without warning, I woke up one morning with a sense of no belonging, a loss of hope and motivation for my future, the dread of having to get through the working day, and zero enthusiasm to do anything or get out of bed. Depression is nothing new for me, but this was the first time that I truly felt like it just wasn't worth it anymore. Have I had multiple suicidal thoughts to find peace? Yes, I have. Have I or will I ever act upon these thoughts? No, I haven't and never will. I myself have had first-hand experience of what it is like losing someone to suicide and I would not wish that upon anyone. To reassure you all, I am perfectly safe, I have very supportive family and friends close at hand and I am receiving help on the matter. I just felt that I needed to let you all know, as this is a big part of my life and I don't want to hide it anymore as I realise it is just unhealthy.

I don't want to seem like I am attention-seeking, far from it. Mental health is such a delicate subject and not everyone will agree and see it eye to eye. If you find this update of me sharing my biggest personal insecurity looking for attention? Fine, as long as it gives you the accomplishment of being a better person than I am. I'm just too tired of facing this alone.

I also want to say that I am very, very sorry. I have been absent for over a week and each day I have felt the guilt of not interacting with the tags I have received or giving all your content the love it deserves. I have also been very much absent on Discord, The server is always beaming with life and banter but I just couldn't find myself to face it, not just yet. I feel it is going to take time for me to get better and make sense of it all, I may still be absent from tumblr for a while but do know that I love you all very much and I do miss you. This is just one of those things that cannot be rushed.

<3