#if you prompt me on things i like getting word waterfalls is just part of the package

[aquagirl1978]

Hi :D I'd like to pretty please request azel 😈 :3, please and thank you!!

Hey @floydsteeth - so nice to see you in my inbox! You really made me work with this one - Azel is an interesting guy and quite unlike any other suitor I've written before. Thank you to the amazing translators on here for sharing their work - I'd be lost without your work. With this fic, I have once again written for all IkePri suitors.

Spark

A/N: Part of my Naughty or Nice event Pairing: Azel Radwan x Reader Prompt: naughty Word Count: 616 Tags: spicy? i tried, it's hard with this guy

“Where do you think you're going?”

You turned around slowly, your bag still in your hand, to face Azel who was lying in bed. Awake.

“I was going for a walk. Outside. I’ve been cooped up in this room with you for….three days? Not that you care,” you replied defiantly.

“You’re right. I don’t care.” He sighed dramatically and fell back onto the bed. “But if you must go out –”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Bad things and misfortune will come my way. Right?”

“Where do you think you're going?”

You turned around slowly, your bag still in your hand, to face Azel who was lying in bed. Awake.

“I was going for a walk. Outside. I’ve been cooped up in this room with you for….three days? Not that you care,” you replied defiantly.

“You’re right. I don’t care.” He sighed dramatically and fell back onto the bed. “But if you must go out –”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Bad things and misfortune will come my way. Right?”

“You could just stay here?” He rolled over onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. Positioned like this, with his lean body sprawled out and his long hair, tied in a perfect ponytail, falling over his shoulder and his eyes – oh, those opalescent eyes – that you found to be so mysterious and mesmerizing, he did look like the God he claimed to be.

“No thanks.”

Azel sighed again, this time louder and more dramatic. “Fine. You win. Leave me here all by myself.” He covered his face with his hand, pretending to wipe away fake tears. He quickly looked up, his gaze fixed on your bag. “If you are going out…”

“Let me guess, you want something.”

“Well, I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“There’s some dorayaki over there. A gift from Kagari. You can have that.”

Azel made a horrified face. “Do you think that is a suitable treat for a God?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Your loss then.”

“Tch, I suppose I can eat one if you refuse your God this one little favor.”

“My God? You’re my lover, not my God.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?” 

You stared at him blankly, your arms crossed tight against your chest.

“I should punish you for this defiance. Come here.”

Deciding it would be easier to simply accept your “punishment” rather than argue with a petulant God, you walked over to him, standing beside his bed. “I’m here.”

“Bend down a little closer,” he asked.

Seriously?  Boy, was he making you work for this. 

You plopped down on the bed next to him as ungraciously as possible , ignoring the disgusted look on his face. “Let’s say I eventually leave this room, and I manage to get you a nice snack – one appropriate for a God – what will you do for me? As repayment.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m a God. Gods don’t pay for things,” he scoffed.

“I told you, you're my lover, not a God,” you reminded softly, your hand reaching for his hair, “and as my lover….”

“What are you doing?” he bristled as you combed your fingers through his hair, removing his hair tie.

“Shh… you look so pretty with your hair down.” You ran your hand through his hair, long silky strands cascading like a silvery waterfall around his shoulders, a pale, pink blush colored your lover’s cheeks.

It didn’t take long for him to close his eyes and make a soft, pleased sound.  As if his body betrayed him, his shoulders jerked and his eyes opened, his gaze narrowing, meeting yours.

“If you’re going to complain, I'll just have to…”

“Do what?” he asked, daring you, as your face approached his.

“Nothing,” you said, your voice teasing as you gazed into his eyes. You felt a slight spark the moment your skin made contact with his; dragging a finger slowly down his arm, you linked your fingers with his when you reached his hand.

“I’m going to charge you for this…” His voice wavered, lacking its earlier confidence, as he stared back into your eyes.

You do that, you thought. It was well worth any price to watch the living God break before your eyes.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady

@queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome

@kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira

@crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen

@melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage

@nightghoul381 @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra

@drachonia @ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @portrait-ninja

@sh0jun @ikesenwritings

[spilledbeans116]

Taking a Sick Day

(Raditz x Reader)

Raditz x fem!reader - 2,468 Words - SFW

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This fic was a request by an anonymous user! The prompt was as follows:

"Can I request a Raditz one-shot please? Where the reader is sick and he's taking care of her."

I did just that! You can imagine this as being part of the Princess Saga universe I suppose, minus Earth being fine. Otherwise it’s just an alternate saiyan AU! I hope you all enjoy!

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     Raditz was pacing back and forth in his room, unsure of what to do. Kakarot was off-world doing who knows what, probably visiting Earth again or something stupid like that. The point was he wouldn’t pick up his scouter, and Raditz was running out of options. Nappa wasn’t answering either, leaving only one more person he could call. He shut his eyes tight as he placed his fingers upon the scouter, clicking the button twice as the transmission was sent out.

     “The hell do you want?” Snapped the prince, sounding a bit breathless. A few grunts came from the other end and Raditz quickly realized he must be sparring or something similar.

     “I need… help.” He replied weakly, running his hands through his hair.

     Vegeta laughed at him, the sound slightly staticy through the scouter’s speakers. Raditz simply sighed, rolling his eyes as he waited for Vegeta to stop making fun of him. “Why the hell would I help you?”

     “I- well-“ he groaned, kicking at the floor before flopping down on his couch. “I think she’s sick.”

     Vegeta rolled his eyes, grunting again as he dodged the training bot’s laser attack. “You have to be more specific, dumbass.”

     “You know…” Raditz grumbled, face heating up as he began to fidget with his hands, “her.”

      “Oh right, your woman play-thing,” Vegeta gagged.

     “Hey, don’t call her that!” Raditz yelled.

     “Watch your tone with me!” Vegeta yelled back before continuing, “Is she your girlfriend yet?”

     Raditz paused, “well not technically I haven’t asked her yet and-“

     Vegeta sighed, “get to the point Raditz.”

     “I don’t know what to do!”

     He could practically hear the way Vegeta rolled his eyes, “go take care of her?”

     “Yeah, but how? And what if I get sick?” 

     Vegeta actually stopped training for a moment, wondering if he was actually dealing with this right now. The moment was over as soon as it happened, however, as he was almost zapped by another attack. “Don’t be such a baby and bring her soup or something you idiot!”

     “What if she doesn’t like soup!”

     Vegeta grit his teeth, “then pick something else! She’s your girlfriend damn it!” At that the call ended, and Raditz rolled his head back into the couch cushions.

     “She’s not my girlfriend,” he huffed. What the hell was he supposed to do?

——

    What the hell were you going to do? You felt awful; so awful that awful was an understatement. You weren’t sure if this was a common cold being taken to the extreme from lack of rest, or perhaps it had never been a cold to begin with and you picked up some virus while out on a mission last week. The point was you were running a high fever and your nose was running like a waterfall.

     Your body ached, worse than training with the boys always felt. It felt as though your skin was on fire, and lounging around in just a t-shirt and underwear still felt as if you were covered in winter clothing. Your tail hung limp behind you as you weakly made your way to the fridge, needing to get something to drink. 

     You felt awful having to cancel on Raditz yesterday. Hopefully he understood that you just weren’t up for going off-world, as excited as you had both been for it. The last thing you wanted was to get him sick or simply overdo it and get worse.

    You felt like you were hallucinating when there was a knock at the door and you stopped to stare at it for a moment, tail barely twitching as you concentrated on the sound. The knock rang out once more, louder this time, as you made your way to it.

     “I’m comin’,” you groaned, grabbing a blanket from off the couch and wrapping it around your waist haphazardly. You grabbed the door knob and twisted it slowly, cracking the door open slightly just to take a peak at who it was.

     Dressed in a dark-brown tank top and black sweatpants was none other than the long-haired man himself. He was carrying a gift bag in one hand, along with a tray of something else in the other. His smile was gentle as he waited for you to let him in. “Hey sleepy-girl, how ‘ya feeling?”

     You opened the door wider, slightly embarrassed of your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t brushed your hair today, but you were glad you at least managed to brush your teeth and shower for a bit so you were somewhat presentable. “Sick.”

     “Yeah, I can tell.” He walked in past you, tail brushing against your nose and causing you to giggle a bit before you shut and locked the door to your room.

     “Watch your tail, I don’t wanna get snot on you,” you snickered, waddling into the main foyer after him. 

     “Ew!” He laughed, setting the tray down on the kitchen counter, “don’t say stuff like that, it’s gross!”

    “It’s the truth!” You replied, a dopey smile lighting up your features. Raditz stood across from you, leaning against the countertop in your kitchen. Your little room was nothing grand; you had a small kitchen with a barely operating fridge and stove top, and a rounded table with four seats sat right near the edge of where the kitchen ended and the living room began. You had one couch, a small coffee table, and your television was sitting atop a small bookshelf across from them both. The only other rooms were the bathroom and your bedroom, which was a complete and utter mess at the moment.

     “Why are you here?” You croaked, moving back into the living and walking up to the coffee table. Your bathroom trash bin sat on the floor beside your couch-makeshift-bed, filled to the brim with tissues. You added another to the pile as you grabbed the box from the desk and blew your nose, Raditz wincing at the sound.

    “I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself,” he replied casually. “Eating, drinking, breathing; all the good stuff.”

    You giggled once more before that evolved into an avid coughing fit. He moved over to you quickly, grabbing your shoulders and steering you to lay down on the couch. “Gods you're burning up! What’s your temperature?”

    “You should know I run hot,” you winked, coughing into your elbow as he rolled his eyes and smirked.

     “Oh no, and you’re delusional! It’s worse than I thought.” You held in your laughter this time, not wanting to choke on your own giggles again. Raditz was so much larger than you, and often times tougher than most saiyans because of it. Today, however, his touch was gentle, and he pushed you to lay back slowly, situating your pillow behind your back before walking back into the kitchen.

     “Seriously though, why are you here? Did you forget something?” You asked carefully.

    He simply shook his head, pulling all that hair of his into a messy bun and washing his hands. “What, I need a reason to come and visit?”

     You thought for a moment, “usually you have some sort of excuse.”

    “What!” He snapped, crossing his arms. “I do not!”

    You began to count on your fingers as a smile crept up your face, “well, there was that one time you ‘forgot’ your favorite hair-tie.”

    “Have you seen how much hair I have?” He countered, waving at the piled up strands. “The others don’t work!”

    “Or you ‘forgot’ your phone but it was really in your pocket?”

     “I genuinely could not find it.”

     “And finally,” you said carefully. “Two days ago you woke me up early to go on our mission, which wasn’t scheduled until yesterday.”

    Raditz shrugged, “I am my brother’s brother. Brains isn’t exactly something my family takes pride in.”

     “Isn’t your dad a scientist?”

     Raditz grabbed the tray and gift bag and made his way over to you, quick to change the subject, “look, I brought food for you.”

     You sniffed carefully, smirking as the scent of a flavorful broth hit your nose. “You made me soup?”

     “No, I brought you soup. I can’t cook to save my life, luckily the dining hall had some on stand by.”

     You smiled anyway as he set the tray in your lap, the gesture on its own more than enough. “Thanks Raditz.”

     “No problem sweet heart,” he teased, ruffling your hair and grabbing your trash bin. He walked it over to your main garbage can and dumped it, setting it back down beside you carefully.

     “How’d you know this was my favorite?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and lifting the spoon to your lips. You blew on it carefully before popping it in your mouth, tail wagging weakly behind you as you smiled and relaxed. “Man this is good. Just what I needed.”

    He smiled as he watched you eat it, glad you were feeling well enough to get some food into your stomach. “Believe it or not,” he chuckled, walking up to the tv and sticking a usb of some sort into the back of it, “I pay attention to the things you tell me.”

    “Sometimes,” you added playfully. 

    He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Sometimes.” He quickly snatched the remote from the coffee table and plopped down beside you on the couch, causing your body to bounce up a bit and for the soup to slosh around in the bowl. “Sorry.”

    “It’s okay,” you smiled, finishing off your soup and setting the tray on the ground. You tilted your head at him, “what did you put in the tv?”

     He shrugged, “just a USB.”

    You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, “with what on it, dummy.”

    “Oh! Apologies, Vegeta,” he said quickly, smirking and bowing to you. “I didn’t realize I was speaking to the prince! Had I known sooner I-” He laughed as you shoved his shoulder before you started coughing again. His eyes whipped to yours quickly as he looked you over, concern clear as day in his stare. “Are you okay?”

    You nodded, the coughing not subsiding. He grabbed the water from the tray and handed it to you, encouraging you to take a few sips. You did, choking on the water a bit in the process but getting it down nonetheless.

    He wiped your cheek carefully, running a thumb over the corners of your eyes to wipe the tears that gathered there away. “Man you’re a mess.”

    “Thanks Raditz.” You croaked.

    “Come here,” he grunted, turning your body as if you weighed nothing at all. He placed a pillow on his lap and pulled your head down onto it, your legs resting comfortably on the cushions. He looked down at you and swept your hair out of your face before taking his out of the bun. “You need rest.”

    “I wanna see what you brought with you though,” you frowned. “What’s on the USB? And what’s in the bag?” He sighed, clicking through the menu options and loading up the video file on it. Your tail thumped happily as you read the title of the movie and glanced up at him. “There is no way you-“

    “I know, I know, it’s the WORST movie of all time,” he teased, poking your sides as you giggled. 

     “How dare you!” You squealed. “This is my all time favorite you ass!”

    “Mhm, that makes sense I suppose.”

    You glared at him, jabbing his side, “hey!” He laughed again, his voice echoing around the room and making your heart beat wildly in your chest.

    “Since it’s for you though I guess I can put up with it. Just this once.”

     You wrapped your arm around his leg and nuzzled into the pillow, a shiver running up his spine. He pulled a blanket over you as you relaxed, incredibly comfortable and at peace being taken care of by the large saiyan.

    “How’d you even get it?”

    “Through a very legal, not-virus filled website.”

     You shook your head, “oh, of course.” You glanced over at his feet, where the silver gift bag was laying, stuffed haphazardly with white and sparkly tissue paper. “What’s in that?”

     “Well, do you want it now, or when you’re feeling better?”

     You paused, rubbing your hand against your chin as you thought. “Is it something I’d want now?”

    He nodded, “I think so.”

     “Then I’ll take it now please.” You rolled onto your back, staring up at him as he leaned down and grabbed the handles of it. He smelled refreshing up close, his cologne breaking through even your overly stuffed-up nose.

     “Here you go,” he replied, handing it to you. “It’s nothing fancy so don’t-“

     “Oh you stop that,” you giggled, taking the tissue paper out. “I’ll love it no matter- OH MY GOSH,” you yelled, coughing into your arm again.

    “Careful! Geez!” He exclaimed. “If it kills you I’ll feel awful!” You pulled the stuffed animal out of the bag slowly, admiring the pristine fabric and the little red bow around its neck. It was your favorite animal in your favorite color, and you wrapped your arms around it tightly. The fabric was soft and plush in your hands, and your smile lit up your features.

     “Raditz, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever gotten me. Ever.” He waved his hand at you.

    “You’re just saying that,” he grunted, the tips of his ears heating up. Your eyes felt heavy laying there like that, and you turned onto your side again to watch the movie, stuffy now clutched closely to your chest and the tissue paper being scattered around the couch and floor.

     “You’re a good boyfriend, Raditz,” you sighed. His tail puffed out as he looked down at you.

     “I- uh-“

     “Thank you.”

     “Y-y-you’re welcome,” he grumbled, face blushing bright red. He felt hot now, veins pumping fire beneath his skin. He might have even been as warm as you now. Had you called him that intentionally, or were you simply so out of it from the fever you had no idea what you were saying?

    He glanced down at you once more, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you snored softly. The combination of him, the movie, warm soup, the stuffy, and his gentle care having finally allowed you to get some much needed rest. He placed a kiss to your forehead, his tail intertwining with yours as he ran a hand through your hair and you smiled. He’d ask you about it when you were feeling better in a few days. Hell, after he got better. He wasn’t leaving your side until you were healthy again, and that probably meant getting himself sick in the process. That was something to deal with when it happened, however. Right now though? He was just happy you were okay.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

On a Technicality Part 3

Hey I love your work so much, especially your Sander’s Sides fics! I didn’t even know about Sander’s Sides before finding your work, but your writing is so good it got me into them! I really like your fic “On a Technicality.” I was wondering if you could maybe continue it if possible? It would be so cool to see demon Logan taking good care of Remus after taking him in, while also trying to “study” him, as he put it (I love how demon Logan is caring, kind and well-intentioned but also slightly off-putting lol). – anon

Hi! You are one of my absolute favorite fic writers! I hope you are having a lovely and blessed day! I'm not sure whether you are taking requests rn or if this is even the right place, so if you want to ignore the rest of this that's totally fine. I had a request/prompt you might enjoy: Someone (possibly Remus would make the most sense) starts doing self-destructive behavior for attention, then slowly grows to be convinced he deserves it. Hurt/comfort ensues. Ciao! -🦇

I just reread On a Technicality and man, I love it so much! Logan is so soft and Remus is in so much need of care! If you'd like, I would love to see how Remus adjusts to his new life with Logan, whatever that entails! 💙💚 – naminethewitch

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: anxiety attack/panic attack, self destructive behaviour

Pairings: intrulogical

Word Count: 3395

"Easy, easy, little one," as darkness envelops him once more. He splutters for air—when did that happen?—leaning back against Logan's chest as his hand settles back over his eyes, the other patting his chest in reassuring measures. "That's it, take a deep breath…I'm so sorry, my dear, I should've known that would be too much for you."

"Alright, little one," Logan says softly, removing the hand over his eyes, "you're all safe now."

"It's probably a good thing that you did that, because I've never been more tempted to look around than when you said how important it was that I kept my eyes closed."

He chuckles. "Noted. Is there anything else I should keep in mind like that?"

Remus doesn't say anything, because he's too busy staring at things that he is now allowed to look at, except no, he isn't, because everything he's currently looking at is spectacular.

They're standing in a tower, except it's not really a tower, because like, half of it is missing. The parts of it that aren't missing are rich black stone except it's not just black, it's reflecting blues and pinks and purples and every single color in the world depending on how the light hits it, but that light that's hitting it is—okay wait, no, no, he's getting ahead of himself. The rest of the tower has this furniture that Remus shouldn't even be allowed to look at, be in the same room as—it's all rich wood and velvet and looks like all the things he overheard from people talking about the castles and palaces and the fairy tales stolen from books—and there are machines and things that he has no idea what they are but they all look exceptionally fine and delicate and he has no idea what he's gotten himself into—

But that's not even touching what's outside the tower. The edge of the room opens up to this lush garden that looks like every single thing they ever told him about Paradise: exquisite, welcoming, and never for him, all verdant greens and bright colors and there's a waterfall in the corner that seems to fall forever into endless starry sky—because they're standing in the middle of the stars. The sky isn't blue or gray or black or any one color, it's full of stars and gleaming things and swirls of clouds that seem to defy any sort of logic or reason and it's all so beautiful it's terrifying and Remus—Remus—

"Easy, easy, little one," as darkness envelops him once more. He splutters for air—when did that happen?—leaning back against Logan's chest as his hand settles back over his eyes, the other patting his chest in reassuring measures. "That's it, take a deep breath…I'm so sorry, my dear, I should've known that would be too much for you."

"What—what is this," he croaks, "did I—did I do something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Logan stiffens. "What in the world do you mean, my dear, how could you have done something wrong?"

"Is this a punishment? Did—did you trick me? Am I—you—you did it, good job, whatever trick it was, I—I fell for it, I—"

"Hush, Remus, shh, shh, there isn't a trick. There's no punishment, you won't be in pain, I would never harm you. Take a deep breath, shh, shh, slow your breathing now…once you're calm, we can talk and clear this up, yes? But for now, little one, I need you to breathe."

Clinging onto Logan's hand for dear life, he hunches his shoulders, trying to get smaller, get away from all of this, get as small as he can so he won't touch any of it, panting against his knees. Logan folds impossibly close, his mouth next to his ear, still murmuring reassurances. The cramped position trips some primal sense in his brain. That's right. Cramped. Small. Uncomfortable. Difficult to breath. This, this he's used to. This is his familiar space. He knows how to navigate this. He quickly switches to breathing deeper, taking more time with each one to get the air he needs, pressing his cheek against his knee in lieu of something more comfortable. But try as he might, Logan's hand over his eyes is too soft, too tender, and he keeps stroking up and down his side as though soothing a frightened animal—which he guesses he is, at least a little bit.

"Forgive me, my dearest one," Logan whispers and the hint of genuine remorse in his voice is enough to give Remus another shudder, "I had no intention to make you think this was all a trick. I do not mean you any harm, this I swear to you. I—if I had known the sight of my dwelling would concern you so, I would have manifested us in another room."

"What—what is this place?"

"This is my home, Remus, where I live. Well, I guess technically this is my…living room, I believe mortals call it? The main space where I spend my time, be it at leisure or at work."

Remus gulps. He was right, then: there is a catch to all of this. He'd been under the impression that he'd be no more than a glorified pet, but this was as blunt a confirmation that he was going to get. Alright. Okay, he can do this. He knows—he knows how to do this, at least. He's had practice in it.

"What are the rules?"

Logan jerks again. "Rules? Whatever do you mean, little one?"

"What—what am I supposed to do? I'm not—I don't know how long you've been—I don't know how familiar you are with the village you—that I came from, but I promise I do know how to follow rules, I just…sometimes I have questions about them. But as long as you tell me what they are, I'll do my best!"

Logan's quiet for a long time. Oh, no, are there going to be that many rules? He's not sure he can remember all of them, not while he's so new—maybe Logan will be patient. He's been nice so far.

"Why are you determined that you must do something? Are you asking about restrictions I have for you?"

"Yes."

"None."

No. No, no, no, that's not how this works. "But I—what if I break something? What if I ruin something?"

"Then we will fix it."

"How will we fix it?" How much must I pay for my mistakes? What sacrifices will you demand from me?

Logan sighs, settling on the floor behind him and tugging him into his lap. One arm wraps around his waist, holding him close, the other still lightly petting his closed eyelids. "It will depend on the thing that is broken. If it is simply a plate, then I will remake it or discard the pieces and we will use another one. If it is one of my many tinkering projects, then I daresay they will not get into a more broken state than they already are. And as for everything else…"

He lets out another chuckle, leaning forward to hook his chin over Remus's shoulder.

"They are all only things, Remus," he says softly, too softly, "and you are far more important to me than any of them ever will be."

"But you just got me. You've had those for—for—for years, how can I be more important?"

"I've just met you," comes the gentle correction, "and you are a living, breathing, wonderful mortal who has chosen to come and let me house you, tend to you, study you. That makes you someone else I now have the pleasure of caring for."

"But I'm—" he breaks off into a humiliating noise when lips press themselves delicately to the curve of his neck.

"Forgive me for taking the liberty, I…I have always wondered how it might feel. But this is about you, not indulging my curiosity." The arm around his waist urges him to turn around, back in the position they were on the stone floor—they had only just left, how does it feel like an eon ago? "Allow me to put this bluntly, then: I have not brought you here to serve me or become another one of my trinkets. I have brought you here to live with me, and that means that I could no more be angry at you for breaking or ruining something than I could be at myself. You are not to be bound here by any means, to be punished for breaking rules or restricted in any sort of way. Do you understand?"

"I…no."

"Which parts of it are unclear to you?"

"I deserve it!"

"Deserve what, dear?"

"To—to be hurt when I mess up, that's the point, that's why I was—that's why they picked me to be the sacrifice, I'm—"

"Enough."

Logan's voice sharpens the way it did when the zealot spoke and Remus's shoulders shoot up to his ears. This is it. This is the point where he goes too far. This is where he learns the consequences of his actions, this is where—

"I do not know who it was that inspired this idea of deserving pain, but they should pray to whatever deity they worship that our paths never cross." His voice is dark, swirling depths, but not…not at Remus? "You are not something to be disciplined like an unruly animal, and you most definitely so not deserve to be afraid or hurting. I will have none of that. To err is to live, how could I punish you for living?"

"B-but—but—"

"Oh, little one," he murmurs when Remus starts to tear up under his hand, "shh, shh, come here, come put your head on my shoulder, yes, that's right…"

He has half a mind to apologize for how much he's crying on Logan, for all he's wanted to study him all he's apparently able to study is how many ways he can make Remus cry just by treating him with some small amount of kindness. Logan, at least, doesn't seem to mind, rubbing his back again as the sobs slowly work their way out of his chest. He calms much quicker, body likely already growing used to the soft treatment—and wasn't that a scary thought?—and cautiously, cautiously opens his eyes.

The floor. He can look at the floor. It's pretty too, it's got this cool pattern of tile where it appears like little pieces of stained glass are in it.

"Your floor is cool," he mumbles.

"I like it too. I got the idea from this one creature's skin, designed to reflect the light in such a way that it can change color at will."

"What's it called?" Logan says a word that he couldn't hope to pronounce. "…oh."

The chuckle warms him from chest to tummy. "Don't worry, dear, there are names in your tongue, I just don't know them yet."

"How many languages do you know?"

"I use about three hundred in typical interactions, but I possess the ability to learn any given language or script provided that I can either hear it spoken or see it written."

"I didn't even know there were that many languages."

"The Cosmos are far vaster than you could ever conceive, little one, and I will be more than happy to be your guide through them."

"Do you have, like, a ship that you use to travel?"

"Most demon-kind can travel using the Aether—"

"The what?"

"It's a realm that exists just below the material plane—that is, the plane that most life is capable of existing on, although there are some elemental spirits and beings capable of existing elsewhere—that acts as sort of a…conduit, let's say." He sighs, fingers idly scratching at the hair at the nape of Remus's neck. "I believe any further explanation would require my model of the Cosmos."

Remus dares lift his eyes a little higher, looking at the garden. He feels like that's safer, he knows a little bit about what plants and things are sort of supposed to look like. "What is that flower called?"

"Which one, dear?"

"The—the one that has the blue and purple stripes."

"Ah, that's a Morpho bloom. Stunning, isn't it? There is an planet in one of the galaxies near the Nalimbo cluster where they grow in a thick cover over the mountains, it's quite a sight."

"That sounds really cool."

"If you would like," and here Logan's voice grows soft and sweet again, "I would be happy to take you so you could see."

A lump appears in Remus's throat. "You…you would?"

"If it would please you, then yes."

Remus just stares at the flower. Logan must feel the way his mood starts to dip for he adjusts his hold, bringing his mouth closer to his ear.

"If you would be so kind, little one, may I ask a few questions of my own?"

"…yeah."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Um—" he wracks his brain— "two suns ago?"

"And the last time you could bathe?"

"I washed in the river a sun ago."

"Would it be alright with you if I took you to the bathing chamber? Not because I believe you dirty or unclean, but you are still covered in blood and I imagine it is not the most comfortable for you."

"I…kind of forgot about it, to be honest."

Logan's quiet for a moment, in a way where Remus is sure he's thinking either that's concerning or of course you did, which one is dependent on how nice Remus is planning on being to himself today, before he tightens his grip. "I would have us walk there, so you could get used to the layout of this place, but I believe it might be better to go there directly, given our…current position. Is that alright with you?"

"Should I shut my eyes again?"

"Yes, if you wouldn't mind. I can tell you when it is safe to open them. It wouldn't be more than a moment, I assure you."

Remus closes his eyes and there's another tugging swirl in his gut, before Logan is rubbing his back and telling him it's safe to open. He does so only hesitantly, only to look around at the small room. Granted, 'small' is relative compared to the massive space they were just in, but it's still about the size of the barn attic he's used to sleeping in. One side has a set of gleaming taps, the vast majority of the floor a shimmering pool basin. Logan's hands have him positioned right near the edge, Logan himself just behind.

"May I help you undress and wash, my dear? Or would you rather do it yourself?"

"I—uh—I don't know if I can…do this."

"By 'this,' do you mean operate the bath?"

He fiddles with the hem of his threadbare tunic. His mouth twists up. After another moment Logan lets out a quiet oh and a hand cups his chin, raising him up to meet softly glowing eyes.

"Let me help you," he coaxes, "let me show you that you can be treated gently, that you can enjoy things, that you are deserving of safety and comfort."

"How am I supposed to say no to that?"

"You aren't, little one. Here, allow me…" Hands, too-gentle hands, slip underneath his tunic and begin to lift. Remus shuts his eyes tightly, only for the movement to stop. "Look at me, my dear."

He does. Logan tilts his head, his eyes flash, and behind him, Remus can hear water running. "What?"

"If I ever do something you do not want, I need you to tell me, will you promise to do that?"

"Y-yes, yes, I promise."

"Alright. Can I help you remove this? So that you might bathe?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, little one." He gathers the material as though it were the finest silk, lifting it gently over his head and settling it to the side. Remus flushes at the sheer number of scars and terrible things written all over his skin, but Logan runs a hand through his hair and smiles. "Would you like to remove the rest yourself while I tend to the bath?"

"Is…is that okay?"

"Of course, my dear."

This can't be real, he thinks as he takes off the rest of his filthy clothes and sits on the warm stone floor.

This can't be real, as he turns around to see the steam rising from the perfect warm bath, Logan smiling softly at him.

This can't be real, he thinks as he sinks into the warm, warm water, his body crying out in relief as pains leave him and a moan slips into the still air.

"It's real, little one," Logan whispers, coming back over to crouch by his head, nails scratching delicately at his scalp, "I promise you, it's all real."

"I'm gonna fall asleep in here."

"That's alright—I'll lean you against the side so you won't slip under water, though I might have to wake you so I can get you to your bed."

"My—my bed?"

Logan tilts his head, something slightly sad coloring his expression. "You didn't think I brought you all this way just to have you sleep on the floor, did you? No, dear one, you'll have a bed. Any sort of bed you like, though…oh, never mind."

"No, no," Remus says, far too eagerly as the water swirls around him, "what?"

"Well—I had hoped, at some point, when you felt comfortable enough, that you might be amenable to…sharing a bed with me."

Remus blinks. Then he blinks again. Logan tugs on his tie and adjusts his glasses—is the demon nervous? He should be the one that's nervous, putting aside the whole demon thing, it's someone else asking to share his bed, someone who—okay, look, if Remus didn't know that Logan was a demon and that he'd been summoned, he…he might react the same way to seeing Logan as he did to seeing the living room, okay?

"Of course, that doesn't have to be now—"

"No!" The shout echoes around the room and he winces. "I—I mean, I—yeah. I'd—yes."

Logan's face slowly splits into a smile. "You would share with me?"

"If…if that's okay with you?"

"More than, my dear, absolutely alright with me. Let's set about getting you on with your bath, shall we?"

"And will—will you take me to see the flowers on the mountains?"

Logan chuckles. "Yes, little one."

"And will you show me your model? To explain the—the—the—"

"The Aether? Yes, I can."

"And will you let me ask about all your machines and things?"

"Darling, I will happily do all of those things, and more, so much more." He leans down and kisses his forehead—oh, there's no way this couldn't be real, Remus would never dare to imagine something like this. "I'll even introduce you to my Kraken, if you like."

Remus's eyes nearly leave his skull. "You have a Kraken?"

"He's not mine, per se, he comes and goes about the infinite multiverse as he pleases, but I do believe we have some companionship." His smile quirks up higher. "I daresay you will get along with him even better than i will."

"What's his name? Does he have a name?"

"I believe he goes by Oliver."

"I wanna meet him," Remus slurs as Logan begins to wash his hair, "I really wanna meet him."

"Then you shall."

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[liaromancewriter]

May I Have This Dance?

Premise: Is there anything more romantic than slow dancing in the kitchen on a do-nothing day?

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,175

A/N: For narrative purposes, this is set on the same day as Sleeping Beauty. Submission for @choicesprompts Flufftober prompt "Can I have this dance?" I'm also using @choicesflashfics week 54, prompt 1

Ethan Ramsey stared at the announcement for this year’s homecoming dance tacked onto the noticeboard in the hallway. His hands itched to snatch a flyer to peruse later, but he kept them tightly fisted to his sides.

There was a reason he’d ditched the whole thing last year, he reminded himself morosely.

He couldn’t dance and wasn’t about to embarrass himself in front of the entire school. Plus, there was the whole awkwardness of asking a girl out. They tended to travel in packs, and getting one alone long enough to ask her without her friends staring and giggling nearby was as impossible as travel to Mars.

It was a pipe dream, he thought in dismay but unable to unglue his feet. He wasn’t in a position to go, and that was that. Besides, who decided that participating in homecoming dances and proms was a right of passage for high schoolers?

Hollywood, that’s who. Twentysomething actors playing high school students didn’t make it all so. It was a fallacy, as most things in life were.

“Wow, you look fierce. Did you have a fight with someone?”

Ethan glanced sideways at the concerned voice of his neighbor and friend, Miranda Clarke. He inwardly grimaced at being caught boring a hole into the noticeboard.

She’d been the nerdy girl with braces and pigtails all through elementary and middle school. At the start of freshman year, he did a double take when she greeted him at the bus stop, no braces in sight, her blonde hair in a waterfall behind her and a pretty headband sparkling under the sun.

Miranda might look different now, but she was still one of the smartest and nicest people he knew. She also understood what it was like to be abandoned by a parent, or both parents in her case.

“Not a fight,” he said, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard by others, and inadvertently eyed the flyer.

“Ah,” she said, following his gaze. “I didn’t think school dances were your thing.”

“They’re not,” he muttered, feeling the redness splash across his cheeks.

Miranda’s eyes softened in sympathy, and he felt sorry for lying to his friend.

“It’s okay to change your mind, Ethan,” she said, lightly touching his arm. “No one’s going to care if you attend a dance one year and skip it altogether another. This isn’t about what anyone else wants, just you.”

“I know that,” he protested, stopping himself from rolling his eyes. Miranda had a habit of lecturing him when he was being cagey.

He straightened away from the wall and shrugged, adopting an air of indifference. “It’s moot anyway since I can’t dance.”

“Can’t?” Miranda placed a hand on his elbow to stop him as he turned to go. “Or don’t know how?”

Ethan sighed, his lips parting to deliver a well-versed white lie. But this was Miranda, and they’d known each other all their lives. She’d just hound him on the way home until he told her the truth.

“Don’t know how,” he admitted reluctantly. “I can’t exactly ask my dad to teach me, can I? He has enough to worry about.”

“You could ask me,” she suggested.

Ethan watched her warily. “You’d be willing to do that?”

She laughed. “Of course! That’s what friends do.”

Suddenly, her face turned serious, and she stared at a spot behind him, a light red staining her cheekbones. “Maybe after, you could ask me to homecoming? Only if you want to,” she added quickly when he froze like a deer in headlights.

“I would like that,” he said quietly, thinking about it for all of five seconds.

The bell rang for the next period, and he cleared the gruffness in his throat, raising his voice above the noise. “Thanks, Miranda. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Ethan,” Miranda smiled. “If you’re not working today, we can have the first lesson after school. Around four, your house?”

Dance lessons and a date to homecoming, he marveled as they parted ways to head to class. The year was suddenly looking much brighter.

Twentysomething years later…

“I want to spend the day with you doing nothing. And by nothing, I mean…”

Ethan grinned as Cassie Valentine leaned on the kitchen island and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

It was the first Sunday since his return from Brazil and Cassie’s first official sleepover. There hadn’t been time for that before he left a couple of months ago. But now that they’d decided to give this relationship a real chance, they wanted their private moments to be less stolen and more intentional.

“In case you haven’t noticed, the day is half over,” he said, pretending disinterest as he rinsed a skillet and stacked it in the dishwasher with the rest of the dishes from a late brunch. “If only you’d woken up earlier, we could have had so much fun.”

“Sunday mornings are made for sleeping in,” Cassie’s brows knitted in exasperation. “Especially after the week I had. And I thought intern year was bad.”

“You’ll adjust,” he commented unconcerned, pressing a button to start the dishwasher’s cycle before grabbing a cloth to wipe down the counter.

“What?” he demanded when he looked up to see Cassie watching him with amusement in her eyes.

“Nothing,” she said, coming around the kitchen island to stand before him. She glanced at the wipe cloth in his hand. “I had no idea you were so domesticated, Dr. Ramsey.”

He smirked, caging her in his arms. “I’m a man of many talents, Dr. Valentine.”

The sun was high in the sky, the glare of its rays bouncing off the treated glass. Soft music drifted from a Bluetooth speaker in the corner, casting a magical spell over the kitchen and its occupants and lending an air of romance.

“But can you dance?” Cassie whispered, caressing the nape of his neck with her fingertips.

“What brought this on?” Ethan arched one brow in curiosity.

“Since we’re getting to know each other,” she pulled his head down, “you should know that I love to dance, especially slow dancing in the moonlight.” Her green eyes sparkled, and her lips curved into a soft, dreamy smile. “Or in a sun-dappled kitchen on a lazy Sunday afternoon.”

The music changed to something slow and romantic, and Ethan found his lips hovering above hers, heart pounding with potent anticipation.

“So? Can you?” she murmured.

“Yes.”

Cassie closed the distance between them, gently pressing her lips against his, and he fell into the moment.

“May I have this dance, Cassie?” Ethan asked, sliding his hand into hers.

“I would love to, Ethan.”

He placed one hand on her waist, splayed his fingers and tugged her close. Cassie rested her hand on his shoulder, and he led her into a slow dance, their bodies swaying to the rhythm.

He followed the moves he’d learned all those years ago, dancing in the living room with Miranda. And when Cassie laughed as he dipped her low, Ethan sent a silent thanks to his friend for giving him this.

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @mrs-ramsey @youlookappropriate

[popcornforone]

OCTOBER

From the Marcus Pike Fan Fic Diary

Day 28 of Pedrotober (Any Marcus Prompt)

Pedrotober Masterlist

The Diary Masterlist

September

I was very very tempted to do this away from Pedrotober & just do it as a usual post, but this had been my plan for this month before I knew I was gonna do Pedrotober, so it made sense. If you want to catch up on what’s gone on in the dairy please click for the diary link above.

Synopsis:-You show Marcus his Halloween costume.

Word count:-600

Warnings over & above:- oral sex, teasing, swearing, fantasy’s.Remember this is a diary so it’s written as I.

Thanks as always for the read peoples, my heart of full with all the love you have given me this month it’s the confidence boost I needed. Thanks @norththelemon & @alyssamariag for the prompts. Sorry that they all got smutty.

It’s Halloween diary… already? How are we here… well I know it’s in a couple of days time, but I got to show Marcus his costume today. It arrived in the post well the main part did. I was buzzing for him to look at it & let’s just say he couldn’t contain his laughing.

“The fuck” he cackled. “No im not doing that”

“Why not” i said.

“Because it’s not scary”

“It will be when your make up is done”

“Make up?” He always moans every year that I turn him into a vampire or zombie version of what he actually is. He puts up with it though, just for me, I’m not sure he would for anyone else.

“Come on Marcus”

“I mean I’m still not sure what it even is”

“Make up is actually minimal you can either have your hair done & a little bit of make up or you can put the mask on”

“There’s a mask as well!!” He shook his head wondering how much I’d spent on his outfit when we are meant to be saving.

“Yes” he reaches into the bottom of the bag & looks back at me.

“Seriously”

Out he pulls the mask. Skin colour. Bits looking like it’s about to drop off, woodland deadly vibe, eye holes covered by mesh.

“So I’m either meant to be Joel Miller or an infected from the last of us?”

“Yes”

“I mean I knew you had a thing for Pedro Pascal, but seriously, I look nothing like him”

I then pull my sulky look at him. I’ve mentioned a few times that he’s got a very close resemblance to the actor, especially the eyes hair & how broad he is.

“Please Marcus” I beg.

“Maybe, I think I need some convincing though baby”

I drop to my knees & unbuckle his belt in the middle of the kitchen. He hadn’t even bargained with me. I wanted to make him feel good.

“Would this help you change your mind” I unzipped him in a few seconds.

“Hmmm could do”

How he moaned & griped the kitchen counter as I took his entire length into his mouth.

“Fuck baby, I love it when your so needy”

“Finally got an apitite for something”

“Better than bananas on toast”

All of those words he said we met with long drawn out moans.

I was so sloppy with my blow job, he didn’t care. His eyes were rolling, he just kept moaning my name telling me to not stop. I wasn’t going to. He was in seventh heaven. I’ve not seen him looked this blissed out since the Bahamas, that waterfall will never be forgotten. As water streamed from my eyes & I gagged for what felt like the 50th time, salty liquid seeped down my throat. He’s always so tangy. He’s a real treat to taste. I swallowed it like a good girl. Licking my lips loudly to make him continue to twitch as I cleaned him up too.

“Oooh baby” he moaned as he helped me up onto my feet. “You still got it”

“I never lost it”

It took him a few seconds to regain composure & return to reality before he asked me what I was wearing for Halloween.

“Your favourite baby… I’m going as a zombie Lara Croft but with fishnets”

His jaw dropped. That is not an exaggeration.

Let’s just say our kitchen worked up lots of appetites, what’s he gonna be like when I put that costume on in a few days time… will we even get to the party?

November

[rainmustfallts4]

Spooky & Cozy #1: Harvest Moon, part 1 (notsosimstober & simblreen ’24)

Prompt: 1 – Harvest Moon by @notsosimstober

Word Count: 5,040 (both parts)

Image Count: 37 (15 this part)

Warnings: Speaks about death/passed on family.

Note: I had to break this up into two parts because there’s too many images lmao Here is the first entry into the Simstober 2024 series and a gift for Simblreen! I hope you enjoy c:

⊶⊰Main Post & Index⊱⊷ ⊶⊰Simblreen Tag⊱⊷ ⊶⊰Simstober Tag⊱⊷ ⊶⊰Simstober Info⊱⊷ ⊶⊰Simblreen Info⊱⊷

“This as far as I can go, miss.”

I lifted my eyes from the book I was reading to glance out the window. The dirt road we were on had come to an end in front of a house, though it’s not the one I was looking for. Even so, I shoved my book into my bag and approached the front of the bus.

“Can you tell me how to get to this house?” I showed him the slip of paper with the address written on it and he smiled.

“Oh, the Rainston cottage? Take a right past this house here,” he pointed to the house in front of us. “And continue on toward the hill by the waterfall. If you keep going straight, it’s impossible to miss! Once you reach the waterfall, just follow the path up the hill on your right.”

“Thank you.”

“Give Miss Maybelle my best!”

“Sure.” I offered him a nod before stepping off the bus. It seems like she is quite popular around here. I watched the bus drive back down the road until it disappeared from sight.

Although I enjoy mother nature, I won’t lie and pretend that I’m good at surviving her. Not only that, but I’m terrible with directions and I could get lost inside a paper bag. I took a deep breath to calm myself down, the cool autumn air feeling good against my skin.

Well, I certainly can’t make my way back down the road, especially with those dark clouds rolling in. All I can do is move forward and hope I find my way. Autumn had only just begun, so there weren’t many leaves on the ground. I could picture it in my head, though, the ground littered with leaves of vibrant red and orange.

Autumn is my favorite time of year but, living in the city, I don’t get to really experience it. That’s one thing to look forward to on this trip, I suppose.

When I came to a fork in the road, I realized there were three paths to take – a bridge across the river to my left, a dirt road to my right, and continuing on the path forward. Thankfully, there was a signpost nearby, telling me which way the cottage was.

The farther I got, the more at peace I felt. This place was absolutely gorgeous, the air crisp and clean. It was nothing like the city I grew up in. Instead of listening to honking horns, people arguing and loud music, I heard only the sounds of birds singing, the wind sliding through the leaves, and the water rushing down from the falls.

By the time I made it to the top of the hill, I had to stop and take a break because my legs were beginning to hurt. Exercise had never really been my thing as I preferred to sit around and read.

Being so close to the waterfall was so amazing that I couldn’t quite put it into words. The closest I’ve been to something like this is the fountains in the city which, are quite impressive, but are nothing compared to mother nature herself.

After resting for longer than I needed to because I enjoyed the view, I continued up the winding path, coming upon a cute little cabin that looked as if it had been taken from a fairy tale.

I wasn’t entirely sure how I was feeling. Nervous, sure, but there was another emotion fluttering around inside me that I couldn’t quite identify. Hope, maybe? Or maybe it’s just fear and uncertainty.

It made sense, I suppose. See, I’m meeting my grandparents for the first time. I grew up with just my mom in my life and, when she died a few years ago, I was left alone in a dark world, weighed down by debt. I never knew my father and, as far as I know, I was a one night stand baby.

When I signed up on the Simology website, I didn’t have a lot of hope that it would find any of my family members or ancestors. To my surprise, there was a DNA hit just one week after I signed up. A woman named Maybelle Rainston reached out to me after the site contacted her and, with a 95% match, she believes I’m her deceased son’s daughter.

We sent off for an official test to confirm we’re related, but it hasn’t come back yet. Despite this, she insisted that I leave the city behind and come live with her and her husband. As scary as this change is, I really had no choice. I was three months behind on rent and my landlord was sick of me not paying on time. I have no doubt in my mind that he was going to kick me out soon.

A deep bark snapped me out of my thoughts and I glanced over to see a bloodhound lazily walking from beside the house. He tilted his head to the side, looking at me curiously.

“It’s okay,” I called out softly. “I promise I’m not an intruder.”

He growled softly, but it didn’t seem aggressive so I approached slowly, holding out my hand for him to sniff. He did so without hesitation before wagging his tail.

“Wish me luck, boy,” I said softly as I patted his head. He barked in reply, following me toward the door. After taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I reached up and knocked on the door.

The door swung open, revealing a small older woman with kind eyes. She smiled at me, pulling me into a tight hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

I hugged her back awkwardly, not used to human contact. “Nice to meet you, too, Miss Maybelle.”

“Oh, please, no need to be so formal, dear! Come in out of the cold.” She stepped aside to give me room. Upon entering the home, I was hit by the pleasing smell of pumpkin spice and vanilla.

“Harold! She’s here!” She called out before motioning toward the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, you’re family, after all.” She sent me a warm smile before turning her back to me.

This statement made me feel both happy and upset. I’m happy to not be alone anymore but I’m so afraid the test will come back saying we’re not related. What then? Will she kick me to the curb and never speak to me? I didn’t know this woman well so the thought shouldn’t hurt me as bad as it does.

The kitchen was silent as she brewed the tea, the smell of chamomile filling the small space. It helped me relax.

“How was your trip?”

“Oh, um… it was fine.” I rubbed the back of my head. “It was long so I slept for most of it.”

She sent me a frown. “I’m sorry we couldn’t come get you. These old bones just aren’t fit for long travel anymore.”

“No, it’s okay! You paid for the ticket, that’s enough. Thank you.”

Her frown turned into a warm smile. “Silly girl, you don’t have to thank family. I was happy to help.” She set a cup of steaming tea in front of me before settling down across from me.

I heard shuffling from the doorway behind me before an elder male appeared.

“There you are, Harold! Jace is here.”

The man sat between us, offering me a smile. “Hello, Jace. I hope my wife hasn’t been talking your ear off.”

“Oh, stop it!” Maybelle swatted at his arm, pretending to be offended. Her playful smile gave it away, though.

Harold chuckled, his eyes shining with love. “Sorry, dearest.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the two of them. I could only hope to find a love so strong that we stay together until our end of days.

“You must be tired, dear, I’m sorry!” Maybelle stood up, setting our cups in the sink. “Follow me and I’ll show you to your room.”

“It was nice meeting you, sir.” I told him as I stood up to follow.

“Nonsense.” He stood up, as well, pulling me into a hug. It was much tighter than hers had been. “You have Ryan’s eyes, you know.”

I assumed that was his son, the man they believe to be my father. I could hear the sorrow in his voice when he said this. It was a pain I could sympathize with, still missing my mother dearly.

He patted my back before pulling away. “Once you get some rest, I’ll tell you all about him.”

“Only if you want to know,” added Maybelle gently as she stood patiently in the doorway.

“Right,” he nodded in agreement, settling back down at the table. “Now, go rest.”

I nodded back, following Maybelle into the living room. In the back left corner was a door, behind which was a staircase descending into a basement.

“I hope this is okay. It was the only place we had available.” She brought her hand over her heart. “If you choose to stay with us, we can work on turning the space into your own.”

“Don’t worry! As long as I have a bed and a bookcase, I’m happy.”

“Well, you certainly have a bed,” she chuckled. “Harold will head into town tomorrow and pick a bookcase up for you.”

“I can go instead. It’s probably easier for me…” I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. “Sorry, that sounded rude.”

“Not rude at all, dear. We certainly are not spring chickens anymore!” She chuckled. “Now get some rest. I’ll come get you once dinner is ready.”

I caught myself before thanking her again, offering a smile instead. My room was the only one in the basement so I stepped inside. It was fairly simple, offering just a bed, a dresser and a potted plant which, thankfully, was fake. I had never been able to keep potted plants alive to save my life.

I set my bag on the dresser before settling down on the side of the bed. For a few moments, I just sat there, thinking over everything that had happened.

Before long, I felt my eyes growing heavy and I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

⊶⊰Read part 2 here⊱⊷

[edges-of-night]

Spicy Headcanon Game: Haldir ✧･ﾟ

From @midgardian-witch​‘s post. I thought their prompts sounded fun & I really wanted to try something like this with Haldir (because he’s my fave haha!)

Let me know if you like this style of headcanon posting!

Are they dominant, submissive or a switch?

I feel like Haldir is someone who prefers to be in total control, be it in everyday life or sexual encounters. That said, he will absolutely melt for a partner he knows he can trust – which takes a lot of time and work, but someday he’ll confess to his desire to be dominated ♡

What is their favorite body part (in regards to their partner)?

Haldir strikes me as an ‘arse’ kind of person, both for himself and his partner. The way Craig Parker talks about the role also gave me the headcanon that Haldir does not think very highly of his own body in terms of traditional Elvish beauty. But as I said, he loves to have his arse(hole) touched and teased.

What’s a no go for them (in the bedroom)?

I feel like he’d draw a line at kisses on the mouth – until he meets his match, that is…

What would they pick as their safeword?

Haldir would be bad at choosing a safeword, I think haha! He’d wrack his brains and despair at the implications – Why would a strong Elf need a certain word to make their partner stop? – but in the end, he’d settle for something a little too goofy for his ears, probably in Sindarin.

What’s their favorite position?

Anything standing up! It’s quick, clean and hard, just as he likes it. (He also likes to bottom in missionary, but don’t tell him I said that haha!)

What’s their favorite way to be intimate (can be non-sexual)?

Intimacy is a red rag to Haldir. It complicates things, it lingers and hurts. That said, he does like to embrace and be embraced in return, safe and sound. ‘Human hugs’ should be dirty for him, but he cannot deny the rush of warmth and quickened heartbeat anytime he does allow them…

Which petname/honorific/title do they prefer for themselves?

While I can’t think of a specific preference, I do think he dislikes anything that would imply him being ‘unmanly’, whatever that means to him personally. In general though I don’t think Haldir is that big on petnames when it comes to himself.

Which petname/honorific/title do they use for their partner?

Haldir does not assign petnames lightly. He much prefers to call his partner by their name, short or full version (think ‘Aragorn of the Dúnedain’). However I do feel like he likes to use ‘bunny’ (laboth in Sindarin) as a term of endearment – an animal that’s pretty but swift and clever, too.

What’s their favorite toy?

Knives, if you can call those toys. He enjoys the thrill and power surge they give him, running them along his partner’s throat and chest – and having the same done to him in return. However I’m thinking, while Elves in generally are pretty eager to experiment with toys, Haldir is regarded as a prude among his kind.

How experienced are they?

Pretty experienced sexually even in long term partnerships, I’d say, but inexperienced with romantic love/intimacy.

What noises do they make?

Haldir strikes me as someone who would keep very quiet during sex and doesn’t appreciate much talking. When he allows himself to be vulnerable, however, a few breathy moans do escape his mouth. You could only get a waterfall of words out of this Elf via a telepathic connection, or by getting him really, really drunk.

What ‘common’ kink do they have?

I feel like Haldir, being rather dominant than submissive, would enjoy choking his partner or doing breath play of any kind. It gives him a rush of power.

What universe-specific kink (like Monster Fucker, tentacles, etc.) do they have if any?

Once Haldir meets his perfect match, the one person he wants to be with more than anyone else, he yearns to use his Elven telepathy during sex. This requires great intimacy and openness from both partners, so it’s not something he’d do during a quick relief of stress with a fellow soldier in Lórien. As I said, he’s not too keen on talking during sex, but that goes out the window when he sinks into telepathic communication with his partner – since no one else could hear it, he’d shower them with sweet nothings ♡

What do they do for foreplay?

Haldir is not big on foreplay, usually. If he is with a partner he trusts entirely, he’ll let himself fall and get hot and bothered just by having his body showered in kisses.

What do they do for aftercare?

Haldir would avoid aftercare entirely if that wouldn’t mean leaving behind a mess. He’d swiftly clean up himself and his partner, maybe even give a polite kiss before leaving, but I think that’s about it. Even if someone does manage to win his heart, he is not too big on taking joint baths, drinking etc. and would rather just fall asleep in his partner’s arms.

What unexpected kink do they have?

Sex in water!

What unexpected turn-on do they have?

See above: baths. At least that’s unexpected to himself, I guess! Haldir loves taking baths and staying clean, but after he had sex in a pool for the first time, he’s a changed man. The pleasure would irritate him at first, but passion would quickly overtake his initial surprise. He adores the water flowing around him and his lover, and how slick it makes every movement and kiss – and how light it makes his body feel.

Where do they prefer to have sex?

While bath sex drives him absolutely insane, and the forest of Lothlórien provides anonymity for quickies, Haldir’s favourite place to sleep with his partner is someplace safe and sound, preferably on a soft surface, like a fur. He loves the fluffy texture, intimacy and perceived normality of such sex, rather than something quick that he needs to keep a secret – but he’d never admit to that, needless to say!

Free form:

A random smutty headcanon I have for Haldir is that he is kind of scared of aphrodisiacs? He’s comically afraid of them exposing his true feelings, or simply tasting bad when he puts them in his mouth. Granted, this is nothing too outlandish as a personal boundary. However, what makes this "weird" in-universe is that I headcanon Elves as generally very open to all kinds of sex toys and stimulants. Haldir is definitely marked as a prude among his hedonistic kind, something that only contributes to his negative feelings about himself not belonging etc. Of course once he’s fallen in love, there is no need for an aphrodisiac anyway – the man would wait on you hand and foot! ♡

[aarons-ramblings]

I've had a lot of ideas floating around my head for a full version of Undertale's hard mode. I figured I should share them here. Undertale's hard mode would include overworld based damage like in deltarune. I'll probably post my ideas for the rest of the game here at a later date, but I think that just Snowdin is enough for right now. (BTW, if anyone wants to make this, feel free. Just credit me and share it with me. Seriously, I would love to see someone make this.)

Snowdin

Snow will be falling in Snowdin, slightly obscuring the player's vision, but not in any meaningful way. The snow impacts other things.

Sans: Sans's whoopee cushion is replaced with a joy buzzer. (No damage dealt)

Monsters:

1. Snowdrake is replaced with Chilldrake.

2. Ice Cap cap is replaced with Black Ice Cap. Functionally the same as Ice Cap, except his attacks are slightly transparent. This makes them harder to dodge. (For those of you who live in warmer areas, this is a reference to black ice. Ice that is so transparent that you don't know it's there until you slip on it.)

3. Jerry makes attacks 2 seconds longer, and makes each attack do 1 extra damage.

Snowman: The player is allowed one less snowman piece than usual.

Electricity maze: the walls of the maze will deal 2 damage upon contact. Papyrus's footsteps are filled in by the falling snow, so the player has no clear path to follow.

Word search: the player is forced to actually solve the word search. Controls work by using the directional controls to navigate the page. The interact button is used to select the first letter, and then the last letter. Once answered correctly, the word will be circled.

Tile puzzle: the machine seems to work correctly. It can't be truly random because that risks a softlock, but there can be a bunch of set patterns. The original puzzle solution still has a rare chance of occurring.

The gauntlet of deadly terror: Papyrus activates it by accident. It then turns into a challenge of walking across the bridge without getting hit. Each part will deal 3 damage upon contact. Except for the dog. If the dog lands on the player, it will disconnect from the rope and sit on the player's head. Papyrus will comment on how the dog never listens to his commands, but is thankful that the human is alive. The dog disappears when the player leaves the room, similar to the cup in waterfall. If the player goes back into the room, the dog is hanging from the rope again.

Snowdin town: The inn will not let you in for free or refund your money. The shop will have a limited stock of each item. The ice wolf will be running at double speed. Interacting with them will prompt the narrator to say, "Looks like this is hard mode for everyone."

Papyrus: Papyrus can kill you. Plain and simple. If he does, a frame of him looking surprised will appear for a split second. Just like when Toriel accidentally kills you.

[divinesouldariax]

Consider also, 75 from physical I Love Yous with Laudna and Imogen

75. Painting their fingernails because their hands are too shaky.

I know you said Laudna and Imogen, but Ashton just kinda snuck his way in here and I couldn't get them to leave lmao <3 Unsteady hands crowd, make some noise! Also whoops this was sent in literal months ago ~Martin

P.S. Apologies if tumblr nuked the formatting on this, I couldn't figure out how to fix it in the 10 minutes before I leave for work.

Word count: 1,770

Content warnings: mild internalized ableism

Send me these? (different prompt list but still)

*

Laudna had just about the steadiest hands that Imogen had ever seen. Maybe it was something about her heart rate being so low, or so many years of experience with detail work crafting and mending things, or maybe it was just a trait she had always possessed, but she could tend to the smallest tasks with exact precision.

Right now, that task was painting Imogen’s nails. Laudna had been so excited by the shimmery black nail polish they'd found in a shop they wandered into that morning, and Imogen had suggested that Laudna paint hers as well. Laudna had beamed. But Imogen didn't really want the same black paint, so she had bought a few other colors as well.

One of Laudna's cool hands was supporting Imogen's, and her delicate fingers held the small brush that was coating Imogen's nails in sky blue polish. Laudna was humming happily. Smiling, Imogen leaned her head against the wall and let her mind relax.

The rest of the group were in the room as well, resting in the heat of the afternoon. Chetney was sanding something in the corner, his thoughts focused and bent on a stubborn gnarl in the wood. Fearne was taking a nap on one of the beds, dreaming about swimming by a waterfall, and Orym was sitting next to her and stretching, the rhythm of the Zephra'atam flowing through his mind. FCG was by the window, peeking out through the crack in the curtains, watching for birds a little nervously. Ashton, who was sitting in the chair near where Imogen and Laudna were on the floor, was drowsy as well, and not thinking about much, but Imogen did pick up something a little strange. Jealousy, maybe?

She looked over at him. They were staring down at the hole in their vest that he was trying to patch, having turned down Laudna's offer to fix it with magic. But as she watched, Ashton glanced over at her and Laudna. His eyes widened briefly, and a spark of embarrassment flooded through his mind as they saw Imogen looking back. Quickly, he turned back to his work.

Imogen fought a smile. Ashton, she said softly into his mind.

For a second, they ignored her. What? he replied eventually.

She wiggled the fingers of the hand Laudna had already finished so he could see them. I bet she'd do yours next if you asked.

I don't-- An incoherent jumble of thoughts followed as Ashton put the mending down and rubbed their forehead. Imogen waited patiently as he gathered themself. Oh, you're awful, you know that?

I know, Imogen said, amused. Don't be embarrassed. You want her to paint your nails?

Ashton shifted. They were looking down at their hands now with a weird expression. Imogen felt nostalgia that was closer to sadness from them, and she frowned. I used to like having them painted, he said. I'd do it myself. Hands are too fucking shaky to do that anymore, though. Paint would get fucking everywhere.

Imogen had noticed the shakiness in his hands before, of course. Hers often trembled as well. Is that why you make a point of fixing your clothes by hand, even though it takes a while? she asked.

Just to prove I still fucking can? Yeah, pretty much.

You know, Laudna's doing mine 'cause my hands shake, too, Imogen said gently. She saw a little tension leave their shoulders. It's that part that you're embarrassed about, not that you want them painted, huh?

Ashton shrugged tightly. I don't like needing help for something that simple, they admitted, and Imogen got the feeling that it wasn't something he would ever say out loud.

I'm not gonna make you, Imogen told him. But I do think it would make Laudna happy if you asked her to.

"There, we'll let that dry and then do another coat," Laudna announced. "How does it look?"

Imogen held her hands up to the light. Several nails were a little wet, but it still looked lovely. The blue stood out against the lines of purple electricity that crackled under the skin of her hands. "I love it," she said sincerely. "We got a little time to wait, then?"

"Mm-hmm, we'll give it five minutes or so," Laudna said.

She's got tiiiiime, Imogen said, teasing a little.

Ashton didn't answer her in her mind. A few seconds passed, and she was about to drop it, but then he cleared his throat and said, "Laudna, want to do mine too?"

Laudna, Orym, and Chetney all looked towards him. Imogen felt a radiating defensiveness from Ashton, but she knew nobody was going to prove that wariness right.

"I would love to!" Laudna said enthusiastically. "What color would you like? Imogen bought several!"

Ashton squinted at the collection of paint. "I mean, I've got a whole thing going on," he said, gesturing at themself. "So, same color as you, I think."

"The black? Alright! Come sit with us down here?” Laudna invited.

They nodded and got off the chair, tossing the mending onto the seat and sat down on the floor in the corner next to Imogen, who scooted over to give him space to face Laudna. “Sorry if I move too much,” they mumbled. “Hands kind of do their own thing sometimes.”

“If the brush slips, we can just wipe it off,” Laudna replied easily. “Bring your knee up and put your hand down on it, maybe? Would that help it be steadier?”

Imogen smiled at how gentle the suggestion was–Laudna had said the same thing to her the first time they’d done this. She sent a wave of pure affection in Laudna’s direction and saw the corner of her mouth turn up.

Ashton pulled one knee up close to their chest, wincing, then rested their right hand down on top of it. When Laudna carefully slipped her fingers under his, lifting them up one at a time to apply the first coat of black paint, Imogen saw his forehead crease, and his hands twitched a few times, smearing the paint occasionally, but they were watching her work intently and didn’t pull away.

“There, done with that hand,” Laudna said.

Imogen reached her hand out. “I can clean up the edges,” she said, and when Ashton didn’t even hesitate to give her his hand, she felt a little twinge of pride. It had taken so long to get them to be okay with being touched, and it was a special kind of honor to be allowed to do so when she knew that it could cause a lot of pain. She prestidigitated the smudges around his cuticles while Laudna started painting the nails on their left hand.

That one seemed to be a lot worse in terms of the twitching and shaking. Which made sense, most of the injuries were on the left side of his body. Still, Imogen couldn’t help but wince when their wrist kind of jerked involuntarily away from Laudna.

“Are you alright?” Laudna said softly.

“Fine,” Ashton almost snapped.

Laudna paused, and Imogen tensed slightly, but then she just went back to painting. “You know, the black looks really good, but I bet purple would as well. Matching your hair.”

Ashton let out a little laugh even as their hand shuddered again, and Imogen relaxed. “Sure, maybe next time.”

Fearne had woken up from her nap, and was peering down at them from over the edge of the bed. “Oh, that looks like fun,” she sighed. “Laudna, will you do mine?”

“Of course!”

“Maybe you can do everyone’s!” Fearne added. “Fresh Cut Grass doesn’t have nails, but–”

“You could paint something on my hands anyway,” Letters remarked. “That could be pretty.”

“Orym, Chetney?” Fearne said hopefully.

“Nah, it’d chip off too fast on me. But I might borrow those paints and the tiny brushes,” Chetney said. “You got red?”

“Kind of a dark maroon?” Imogen said, looking at the little glass paint bottles. “Nothing bright.”

“Dark maroon works.”

Imogen sent the bottle floating over to the windowsill. Chetney gave her a nod as he snatched it out of the air.

Laudna had finished Ashton’s left hand as well, and as Imogen was cleaning it up, she grabbed the paints and climbed up onto the bed with Fearne. “I’ll come back for a second coat for both you and Imogen in a little while,” she told him.

Ashton nodded awkwardly, looking at his nails. “Thanks,” he said.

“Oryyym,” wheedled Fearne.

Imogen felt a spike of fond amusement from Orym. “What?” he said.

“Will you let Laudna paint your nails?” Fearne said.

There was a pause. “If you promise not to ever tell Opal, because if she finds out that I let somebody paint my nails and it wasn’t her, I think she’d probably murder me,” Orym said lightly.

Ashton was still examining their nails. Imogen couldn’t read his expression, so she reached out in his mind.

You alright? she checked.

Mm-hmm.

I think we’ve started a trend, Imogen said with a giggle. Just you wait, even Chet’s gonna give in eventually.

Ashton smiled slightly. Think the paint would stay on his claws as a wolf?

Imogen laughed out loud, covering her mouth. Oh, gods, that’s an image.

I bet that’s really why he doesn’t want to, Ashton continued. But I really want to know now. Think Laudna could paint them in his sleep?

Oh, Ashton, that’s mean if he doesn’t want it, Imogen giggled.

Just one, even! Fearne could do it, Chetney wouldn’t mind.

That’s probably true. Imogen got distracted by an increasingly heated conversation between Laudna and Fearne about whether Orym should go with the dark green or try to break out of his usual color scheme. Fearne was very insistent that he should try the purple, and Orym was just leaning back against the wall and wasn’t offering an opinion, but seemed to be enjoying the discussion.

Ashton looked like they were watching, too, but they spoke to her again in her mind a minute later. Thanks, he said.

What for?

Getting me out of my fucking head about it.

Imogen reached out for his hand. He let her take it. Careful of their nails, though they were probably dry by now, and she laced their fingers together. Both of their hands were a little shaky, and no less so for being together, but it was still nice. Side by side, the similarities of the gold scars and the electric purple veins were striking. I get it, she said simply.

Ashton squeezed her hand and said nothing. It was obvious anyway that he understood.

Send me these? (different prompt list)

[koolkat9]

NedCan Week - Day 3

@nedcanweek

Prompt: Art || Cottage Core

Rating: T

Pairing: NedCan

Word Count:

Read on AO3

Slice of the Domestic

The stress had been eating at him from the inside out. For weeks it had felt like his stomach was dissolving, like barbed wire had tied up his lungs, like he was just floating through everything else that wasn’t work. So when Arthur of all people suggested he take a break, Matthew finally agreed.

He’d run away up north for a month. Much better than snapping and running off to the woods and coming back half naked, ragged, and sick or at the very least, undernourished. At least those past runaways made it easy to get the month off.

How Jan also got the month off was beyond Matthew. He didn’t want to dwell on it or how Jan was doing this just for him and instead focus on the little slice of domestic life he had been given.

He watched Jan against the backdrop of trees and amongst the garden of herbs and veggies as the Dutchman collected ingredients for dinner. Matthew's chest ached, having missed the serenity of just living off the land. Nowadays, he could barely keep up his little vegetable garden without the help of some fairies, and he was lucky if he had the energy to harvest and hunt the ingredients he needed for a truly fresh meal right from his own backyard.

The fish he caught earlier that morning sat in the fridge, but it could wait a few more minutes before descaling and frying it up. Just enough time to add the last few details to the painting he had been working on since they got up here. A warped, dreamlike rendition of the cliffs across the way.

Jan plopped down next to him, a basket full of carrots, tomatoes, potatoes, and mixed greens. “Almost done?”

“Mhm. I think I’ll do the waterfall that’s just down the way next.”

Jan kissed his temple. “So I take it we're going canoeing then tomorrow?”

“Yeah. If you’re alright with that.”

“Whatever you want.” He threw an arm around Matthew’s shoulder and pulled him against his side, watching as Matt dabbed on some highlights. “So…How are you…doing?

Matthew shrugged, not daring to look up from his painting. “Could be worse, could be better. I’m getting there though…”

“You shouldn’t push yourself so much when they refuse to listen anyway.” Jan leaned back on the couch. “The days of our influence in government are, for the most part, over.”

“Not all of them have been like that.”

“But most of the recent ones have.”

Matthew huffed, putting the painting to the side. “You sound like Dad.”

“In this case, your father is right.”

He bit his lip. His bosses had never listened to him. In the past it was because he had been too anxious, and now that he finally found his voice, he was ignored. But at least being in the House, doing paperwork let him stay on top of things his government was doing.

“Hey, look at me,” Jan said gently, taking Matthew’s chin and forcing him to look at him. “I’m not saying throw it all away. But find other ways where your words are actually considered. And don’t make yourself sick over it."

Matthew booped Jan’s nose. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Jan only scoffed. He couldn’t exactly argue. Matthew smirked.

“I should start on the fish,” Matthew sighed, cuddling up to Jan, arm across his lap, head on his shoulder.

“Go. I’ll be there when you get back for all the cuddles you want.”

Matthew groaned. “Fine…” He trudged into the house to start supper, taking the veggies with him.

[attano]

#7 — noisome.

trigger warnings: gore, technically. it's going to get weird. part 2 of the first prompt, envoy.

Apathy and hatred—Solkansa's two constant companions during her trials on the First. As good as a companion the Exarch had tried to be, the void that fills her is malms wide and deeper still. Since Zenos' neck was severed to the bone, so too was her joy—how else was she to feel, having had the other half of her soul ripped from her? To meet someone—the first person ever—to see her for who she is, what she is, and then choose the edge of a blade instead of a life of revelry. A rare and searing pain.

And to then be stuck with people who hate you to save a world you do not care for. Little wonder that she is pained.

Even now, as she offers to ferry the Scions' souls back from the First—not by choice—she moves as if within a thick fog. When Krile asks her how they are faring, once she's returned to the Rising Stones, Solkansa considers not even deigning to respond.

She doesn't get the chance.

Before she would have been able to open her mouth, a panicked Miqo'te woman bursts through the doors carrying an ornate box under her arm.

"Package delivery." She holds it at arm's length, breathing heavily though a scarf pulled tight in an effort to create a makeshift mask. It's a pretty, handcrafted thing, with obsidian and gold, but she carries it like a cursed object. When, after a few moments, no one moves to retrieve it, she says in a small voice, "please take it."

Tataru and Krile exchange a glance. "May I ask who sent it?" says Tataru.

The Miqo'te shakes her head vigorously. "I don't know. I don't know. It's just—it's for the Scions. Please—please let me get rid of it."

"Well," says Tataru, her voice dripping with hesitance. "All right."

A waterfall of thanks pours out of the Miqo'te's mouth as she approaches to take it, but before it can exchange hands, Tataru recoils.

"Ugh!" She slaps both hands over her nose. "What is that smell?"

"I know, that's why I—," The Miqo'te seems to swallow a retch. "Don't make me say it, please. Don't...,"

Solkansa sighs a leaden sigh. It seems even the trivial task of accepting a package must be dropped onto her overburdened shoulders. Silently, she walks forward and snatches the box out of the Miqo'te's hands, who stammers thanks and runs back out the door.

The odious stench hits her nose, and she recognizes it immediately. Rotting flesh. Her eye narrows. A threat? She checks the note and inhales sharply at its three words.

'To my friend.'

Could it be...?

With trembling fingers, she opens it. A single, decaying finger sits daintily atop a folded letter, from which the reek stems. A perfect piece of putrid flesh—she smiles at the thought of Zenos butchering a body. She picks it up as it were a precious gem. Dare she let herself believe it is actually from him, and not an imitator...?

Quickly, she sets it down to read the letter beneath.

My dearest friend,

It is my greatest joy to send notice of my return to my own flesh. Loathe have I been to keep you waiting—I assure you each moment is as torturous for you as it is for me. In an effort to show the depths of my gratitude for your patience, I have enclosed a gift that I hope is as precious as I believe it is: my father's left index finger, butchered by my own hand. You were right when you told me patricide is among the greatest thrills.

My deepest apologies for my absence in the delivery; much work must be done in preparation for next we meet.

Your dearest enemy,

Zenos yae Galvus

Solkansa's blood sings. She feels lighter than she ever has; a warmth surges through every limb, pours out each pore. She's never smiled so hard her face hurts, and yet she finds herself doing it now. Fury, her eyes even sting with joyful tears.

"Solkansa," hazards Krile from behind her. "What is it?"

She turns, and her expression must be truly horrifying, for both of them seem taken aback. With her golden eye shining and a grin no one else has ever seen, she says, "He's alive. Zenos is alive."

[ryqoshay]

Putting on Hairs: Post Production - How to Trap Pirate Treasure?

Primary Pairing: NichoMaddy NicoMaki Also Starring: Halcyon Hanayo, Kanata Words: 564 Rating: T? AU: Theater, Pirates Time Frame: sometime after the main story Prompt: Distance

---------

Summary: Captain Pinkbeard, Maddy and Halcyon explore a cave behind a waterfall

Author's Note: Bonus third entry for the 3rd

---------

“Wow…” Captain Pinkbeard uttered as she and several members of her crew entered a large cavern. “I can’t even see the other side.”

“I’m on it.” Maddy said from behind her.

A moment later, several small, fiery orbs began to float through the cave, lighting up the area.

“Are you sure you’re not just a straight up mage?” Pinkbeard asked.

“Medical alchemist.” Maddy reiterated.

“And what do those things have to do with medicine?”

“One needs proper, steady lighting when performing surgery in the lower decks of a ship at sea.”

“I suppose…” Pinkbeard conceded. “There still better be treasure here or I am gonna keelhaul you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Behind them, Halcyon sighed, but then noticed something. “Look, is that a skeleton?”

Sure enough, one of Maddy’s orbs had just illuminated a set of bones laying against the wall.

“Oh, and is that a switch above it?” Pinkbeard asked, moving forward.

“Careful.” Maddy warned.

Click.

“Eh?”

The cave began to physically rumble while a roaring sound filled the air. A moment later, water began to pour from several openings in the ceiling.

“The switch!” Maddy called. “Hit the switch!”

Pinkbeared reached above the skeleton. Not quite. She pushed up on her toes. There.

The roaring stopped and the water immediately began to drain.

“Huh.” Maddy uttered as she approached the captain. “Looks like the distance between death and salvation was only a few centimeters. Good thing you still have those pattens in your boots, Nichole, or you wouldn’t have been able to reach.”

“Hey!” Pinkbeard protested. “I’m not that short! I swear to Damballah I will…”

“Keelhaul me, yes, I know.”

“Captain, Maddy-chan, please…” Halcyon pleaded.

“You know, this part doesn’t make sense either…”

“Cut!” a voice called.

---------

“Maki-chan, again, you know that’s not your line.” Kanata scolded as she puffed back into human form.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Maki apologized.

“First it was the waterfalls and bats out of hell thing.” Nico griped. “What’s your problem this time?”

“The trap doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s triggered by stepping on something and turned off by hitting the switch.”

“That’s not it.” Maki shook her head. “It’s the joke about Nico-chan being sort.”

“Is Maki-chan gonna defend her girlfriend against the tyranny of short jokes in the script?” Nico dramatically emphasized her point by placing her hand on her chest.

“No.”

Nico growled an explicative.

“If the issue is the dead guy’s inability to reach the switch, why not just wait for the water to rise enough that he can float up and hit it?”

“Maybe he gets washed away and drowned, or bashed against parts of the cave?” Hanayo suggested.

“Then why would his skeleton be right under the switch?”

“Hm…”

“I doubt anyone in the audience will notice, or care if they do.” Nico pointed out.

“Maybe not general audience.” Maki conceded. “But we’ve had keen-eyed critics mention plot holes in prior productions.”

“Fair.”

“In any case,” Kanata spoke up, “I’ll make note of your issues and talk to the script writers later. In the meantime, let’s take it back to when Pinkbeard steps on the trigger.”

Those on stage agreed.

“How are you holding up with maintaining those orbs, Setsuna-chan?” The director called to the Cthughan.

“I can keep them going as long as you need.” A voice replied from backstage.

“Perfect.” She turned her attention back to her actors. “Now, action.”

---------

Author's Note Continued: I kinda wanted to make a short joke at someone's expense, be it Nico, Setsuna, or Kasumi, and this idea came to me first. Also, it allowed me to include one of prior prompts I thought I might have trouble with, "bat out of hell". Sure, I modified it a bit to fit the phrasing, but I'm still counting it.

And that reminds me that I technically used modified versions of several other prior prompts throughout the month, but I'm skipping mentioning some because I didn't track them properly in the heat of the event itself. Suffice to say I did manage to use all 93, and a surprising number multiple times.

Finally, this is another scene I need to either expand on or combine with prior event entries before I add it into PoH proper.

Prior Prompts Used: Bat out of Hell Bone Time Waterfall Salvation

[peacehopeandrats]

NaNo, prompt day 8

Can't believe I've already done a week's worth of these!.

Didn't have an ask, so I went with a random number generator. Got prompt 23, which was a writing prompt to prompt me with. Didn't like the prompt at all, but it is what I had to go with, so here is a load of crap that I've thrown down just as a mind dump about this prompt. I guess we can look at this as an exercise on what it looks like when I type without stopping while reflecting on a single topic and not the big picture.

Orange dust blew up into Belle's face and for the hundredth time she tried to blink against the onslaught of grit. If things didn't change soon she was going to have to back out of their outing for the day. This area needed rain badly and some was scheduled for tomorrow. Certainly their explorations of the wilderness could take place when the ground had at least some moisture in it to keep the earth where it belonged.

Across the field from her, Rumple and Gideon were studying a map, Rumple fighting to keep hold of it while Gideon pointed along one line. Her husband looked up just as she finished wiping at the miniscule crystals and stones that made up the sand now sticking to her face. She blinked away the worst of it and tried to give him a reassuring smile, one she hoped would be returned. Instead Rumplestiltskin seemed to turn pale, bleaching in front of her as panic overtook him. He swallowed hard, then took a few stumbling steps forward, backtracking awkwardly to talk to Gideon and gesture for him to keep working with the map as he handed it over.

After only one breath he was at her side, apologizing not with words, but with every other part of his being. "I... I'm sorry Belle... We weren't expecting the wind. I know you had your hopes on the waterfall, but I think we're actually very close to that cave the ranger described to us..." His eyes flicked around as if the path would suddenly illuminate with a neon glow. "We could wait there while the wind died down... Especially if you wanted to... take a nap...?"

Belle felt her eyes widen. She turned one way, then the other, taking in their surroundings. "Here? In the middle of the park?"

"Well, no... in the cave... I mean.. if you wanted to.."

"Rumple." Belle lowered her voice to a whisper. "The rangers are HERE, roaming the park. They'll find us."

He gave a helpless shrug, expression turning to that helpless pout that came out on the occasions when his fears were consuming him. "I... I know that... But.. If you wanted to..."

Belle turned to Gideon as he called out and pointed toward a line of trees. "I think we go this way!"

Rumple swallowed again and Belle thought she could see him trembling. "I'm happy to go... If you'd like to..."

He held out his hand and she took it, but as he guided her back to the path, Belle couldn't help but wonder what in the world had come over him.

* * *

When Rumple looked up from the map to check on Belle the image of her standing in the sunlight was enough to make his heart melt by itself, but the way she looked over her shoulder at him and winked sent a shiver of pure delight through his body. Thanks to this little excursion they'd joined, the family hadn't been alone in days, which meant he hadn't held her for several nights. Not even the showering facilities had been private enough to slip off to in the wee hours of the morning. Had she decided she'd finished waiting?

"The cave," he muttered to himself. "The ranger was talking about a cave. We could get out of the wind and wait for the group to hike back around. We could rejoin them then."

Rumple's heart was pounding. He had no idea how large this cave might be, but his mind drew a picture. The coolness of it filled his lungs. The damp, underground scents hit his nostrils. The quiet drips soothed his nerves as water trickled to the packed floor... or landed on Belle's soft skin while he ravished her. They could be quiet enough and Gideon was so used to their needing time alone together that he was also starting to get tense over his parents lack of intimacy. If Belle was winking at him now, head to the side in that way that begged him to join her, wouldn't that be exactly what they all needed?

He stepped away from Gideon, then realized he still held the map and stumbled back again to hand it over. "Keep looking for the cave. I'm going to talk to your mother."

"Mhm." The apparent disinterest in Gideon's tone was completely false and the smirk on his face said he didn't care if his father believed him. "Once we get there I might look for the stream."

"Sounds delightful." Rumple was barely aware that he answered. Every ounce of his attention was now centered on Belle. They had been desperate enough to partake in lovemaking in certain other public spaces, but always when there was little risk of being found out. The group was due to retrieve them at any time. Could he keep them safe from prying eyes until then?

"I... I'm sorry Belle," he stammered as he approached, hoping that the apology would sway her enough to grant what they both so desperately needed. "We weren't expecting the wind. I know you had your hopes on the waterfall, but I think we're actually very close to that cave the ranger described to us..."

Mentioning the ranger reminded Rumple that they were not alone in this park. There were other hikers, other groups, and plenty of authorities that wouldn't look so kindly on what they were beginning to plan. He looked everywhere, hoping no one would be around, wishing he had the magic to make them invisible. "We could wait there while the wind died down... Especially if you wanted to... take a nap...?"

Belle's expression of surprise made his heart skip with worry, but he was committed to serving her desires now and would not back down. To hell with the regulations. If only his mind and body would come to an agreement by the time they got to their secret hideaway...

[felikatze]

The message for LC & LOR: capitalism is bad

i mean YEAH the games are very anti capitalist. that post was more abt like the A's arc tbh,,, (<- has massive A brainworms) each sephirah does have their own central theme and moral and just Looking at the City is blatant satire

having energy be harvested directly from human suffering is not that subtle lmao.

murdering others to get by as the elite enjoy a comfortable live ignorant of almost all suffering <3 almost every single person so broken by the system that they are so hopeless, so devoid of dreams, it's referred to as a "disease of the mind" <3 massive corporations controlling almost every aspect of life and deliberatly ignoring and even utilizing the most Unethical business practices known to man for profit <3 yeah.

guess i should've been more specific i just love how much lor dunks on A. He is a vry tragic character whom i think entirely too much about because he is both the driving force behind the plot and a total non-entity as a player insert.

the rest of this got fuckin. long. sorry not sorry i had these thoughts locked and loaded for weeks

i just think it's funny that most stuff you could read out of the final "core suppression" where A gets visited by the three ghosts of christmas manifestations of his issues gets annuled a bit by Angela trying to prove him and his methods as wrong as possible.

esp if you read lc and lor together, with one of lor's main themes being breaking the cycle of abuse and suffering.. A's actions end up being a continuation of said cycle, started by Carmen's death. (talked abt in my A/Angela parallels post lmao)

specifically an aspect i mentioned in my tags is that by the end of lc he is completely and utterly alone. the only characters present in the final stretch are literally just himself. most of lc is ultimately about A confronting his mistakes, embodied by the sephirah being mechanical versions of the people he let die, and trying to move on and do anything worthwhile even though he passed the point of no return a long long time ago.

ultimately, he has no one to validate his pursuit of the light except himself. the sephirah are in an interesting position narratively, because they are without a doubt fleshed out characters. i'm not saying they're not. i just think personally that it does carry narrative weight how they effectively become irrelevant once their core suppression is cleared. Because those are the moments we get to see A's many many many horrible mistakes, and the sephirah moving on ultimately means A moves on from that particular aspect too.

afterward, the sephirah do not appear in-game outside telling you an employee died or something, and those are turned off during the final stretch, too, further enhancing the vibe of total loneliness.

lc by itself can be interpreted in many different ways, but lor comes around and tells us what happened in lc was fucked up.

different characters with different attitudes toward it are present, yeah, but for the most part we follow angela and it becomes apparent that the events leading up to and including lc hurt the characters a lot. Much of lor is just healing from that. And through this framing of lc as seen by the characters, who we are reminded were there, experienced those things, are not mere ghosts, it becomes so much more complicated to form a takeaway from it, just from how much it again plays into lor's themes of healing and moving on when lc is about repeating mistakes.

"man that was kinda fucked up isn't it" is also a 100% valid takeaway to any piece of media tho lmao.

anyway. you probably did not ask for rambling about A but you sure did get it.

[pascalispretty]

By Night, Beloved

Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3553

Warnings: fingering, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, wall sex, infidelity, reader is repressed and lonely, Cassian in his slut era, Cassian loses focus and has a consensual workplace relationship

Summary: Cassian meets with one of his informants and indulges in a little recklessness. Written for @thatesqcrush's Kinktober bingo, fulfilling the "Almost Getting Caught/Public Sex" prompt. No spoilers for Andor or Rogue One, but inspired by the references to Cass being a ladies man and having a taste for married women.

(Dipping my toe into a new fandom! Unbetad, so please be gentle. Thanks as always to @lannister-slings-and-arrows, this time for being my Star Wars expert.) On ao3 here.

This late in the evening, the villa is quiet. You strip off your finery as quickly as you can, abandoning jewellery haphazardly on the dressing table and pulling pins carelessly out of your hair. The fastenings of your dress are slow to undo by yourself but eventually, you shed the expensive silver shimmersilk, the skirts so voluminous that it almost stands up by itself. It looks like a ghost beside you as you pull a robe on top of your shift. 

As you step out onto the balcony, you can hear the roar of the waterfall in the distance, the lights of the palace just visible across the water. Naboo is one of the most beautiful worlds you’ve ever seen; you can’t imagine how much worse you’d have fared if your husband had been posted somewhere like Wobani or Mapuzo. Still, you can feel the chill air rolling off the water despite the robe you’d thrown on. 

You’d excused yourself from the dinner early, complaining of a headache and leaving your husband and the Governor of Naboo to endless hands of sabacc and glasses of emerald wine. There was something far more interesting waiting for you here. 

“You’re late.” Cassian steps out from the shadows. He’s wearing a stolen Imperial officer uniform, and you hate the way that it makes something dark twist deep inside of you. He looks every inch the part; the grey uniform fitted perfectly to his lean body, the ramrod straight posture, the gloved hands folded behind his back. Even the kepi on his head sits just so. The only thing out of place is the stubble; most Imperial officers go clean-shaven. 

“You’re lucky I could get away at all.” A white lie; it’s been almost a month since you’d seen him last, nothing would have kept you from coming. Folding your arms against the chill, you stand in front of one of the marble pillars, meeting Cassian’s inscrutable gaze. His eyes are dark and unfathomable at the best of times, and the peak of his cap casts a shadow over them. It leaves you with no idea whether he’s actually annoyed with you or not. 

“You said you had something.” Straight to business, then. You wonder where he’s coming from; whether he’s just passing through, or has an assignment on a nearby system. He had come quickly once you’d managed to get a message through to him, but you can’t allow yourself to imagine that has anything to do with you. 

“A rumour, for now.” You begin, tugging your robe a little tighter around your body. It’s a poor choice of words, your brain a little fogged by the wine you’d drunk with dinner, and Cassian is already shaking his head.

“You had me risk my neck for a rumour? What, gossip that you heard from some other bored housewife?” He steps a little closer to you, trying to keep his voice low. The jibe makes you frown, but you press on anyway. 

“From the Governor. The garrison commander on Malastare is ill, and his deputy is a moron - even by Imperial standards. It’ll be vulnerable.” You say softly, almost at a whisper. There will be nobody around your private quarters - your handmaids are gone for the night, and you’ve made it clear to your husband that you don’t like his guards around your bedroom- but the situation invites hushed tones. He digests the news, a muscle jumping in his tightly-clenched jaw. 

“How ill?” Cassian takes another step forwards, dropping his voice to match yours. The irritation is gone, satisfied that he hasn’t risked his life for something trivial. Out of the shadows, you can get a better look at him. He’s so pretty it makes your breath hitch, the delicate bone structure and dark eyes framed by thick, almost girlish lashes, features that don’t seem like they should belong to a ruthless rebel spy. 

“Gravely. They’re keeping it to themselves as much as possible, but the Commander asked Cadmus if he can foster his sons here if the worst should happen.” The mention of your husband’s name makes something flicker across Cassian’s face, but you can’t put a name to it. You doubt it’s jealousy; more likely it’s loathing. 

“I’ll pass it along.” 

“That garrison is the only toehold the Empire has left on Malastare-” 

“I know.” That muscle jumps in his jaw again.

“I’m not just a bored housewife.” You say, the words escaping you before you can stop them. The last thing you want is to sound petulant, exactly like the spoiled socialite you were expected to be. It was to your advantage when dealing with your husband and the other Imperial officers; it let you overhear things they assumed you were too vapid to understand or care about. But from Cassian, the jab sings. 

“I know that too.” Something has softened in his voice, just the smallest amount. “Everybody has their own rebellion. Someone told me that once.” 

You’ve heard it from him before, a long time ago. The first time that you’d fallen into bed with him. Funny, to think that fucking him was part of your own small rebellion. 

“How many Imperial wives have you bedded in the name of your rebellion, Captain Andor?” You’re teasing him now, but you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch. 

“I have my hands full with just the one.” 

“Not currently, you don’t.” You raise one of your eyebrows in a challenge. His eyes flick to the sides, glancing at his surroundings before taking another step closer to you. 

“You’re reckless,” he murmurs. It’s not a no. One of his gloved hands reaches out to touch your hip, his thumb stroking over the thin shimmersilk. The white fabric looks almost luminescent in the moonlight, a sharp contrast with the black leather of his gloves. 

“Perhaps. Us bored housewives have to find some way to fill the day.” You swear he rolls his eyes at you beneath the peak of his cap. The two of you step in sync this time, moving until your back hits the pillar behind you. 

He’s so close to you now, close enough that you can smell him; something leathery and male and uniquely him. He’s not a tall man, more lean than thick with muscle, but the way he has you backed against the cold stone of the pillar makes his presence seem larger somehow. 

“Somebody has to make sure you’re seen to.” The hand on your hip grips a little tighter, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw. For all that he might call you reckless, you know he wouldn’t linger if he believed it was too dangerous. Naboo is quiet; nothing happens here. It’s one of the last places anybody would expect a rebel spy to be. 

Cassian closes what little distance remains between the two of you and kisses you. It’s as though an electric pulse runs through your whole body, the marble behind you and Cassian in front of you the only things keeping you upright. Even the first soft brush of his lips against yours is enough to make you melt; it has been too long since anyone touched you like this, chaste as it is. 

Lacking in points of comparison as you are, you feel confident in your judgement that Cassian is an excellent kisser. Soft and tender when he had the time for it, feverish and passionate when he did not. If you’d met in another life, you could have devoted hours just to kissing him. 

The kiss deepens and the hand at your jaw steadies you as he licks messily into your mouth. The stupid peaked cap bumps against your forehead so you pull it off him, dropping it somewhere beside you. It leaves you free to tangle your fingers in his soft brown hair, a noise catching in his throat at the sensation. 

Cassian lets you go just long enough to shed his gloves and you shudder when his palms land on your waist again. You can feel the warmth of his skin through your shift and you arch against him. One of his legs pushes insistently between your thighs, heat flaring up inside your body. The fabric of your shift clings damply to you, but the coarser wool of his trousers offers an intense sensation as you grind down. The pressure leaves you gasping between hungry kisses, rubbing against his thigh like a Loth-cat in heat. 

“Dirty girl,” he whispers against your lips, voice rough and accent thick. There’s no defence you can offer. Not to a man who’s fucked you over tables and in your husband’s bed, who’d even taken you apart with his mouth and his cock after a fight, when the two of you were still spattered with blood. For Cassian, you let yourself be debased. 

He grabs at fistfuls of your shift, pulling it up and gathering it around your waist. You’re bare underneath, and you hiss through your teeth when the cold air hits your soaked cunt. Cassian grasps at the back of your thigh, fingertips digging into your flesh as he pulls. You follow his encouraging touch, hooking your leg over his hip and opening yourself up to him. 

The fingers of his free hand move between your bodies, pressing between your thighs and just barely brushing against the seam of your cunt. You whine softly, more of that electricity surging up your spine as he slides his fingertips through your folds. 

“You’re so wet.” His mouth moves from yours, nuzzling against your neck as he touches you. He presses soft, open-mouthed kisses along the side of your throat; it’s too dangerous for him to leave bitemarks, but you’ll carry the ghost of those kisses for days. His stubble scrapes at your skin, but you can’t think right now of the redness it might leave behind. 

“I’ve missed this,” you manage. This, because this is safer than you.

Cassian hums against your skin, nipping gently at your earlobe. His thumb finds your clit and you drop your head back like your spinal cord has been cut, boneless under his touch. Every slow circular stroke of his thumb sends sparks racing through your body and fans that familiar heat burning in your core. 

Every night you’ve spent alone in your bed, your own fingers between your legs as you feast on your memories, feels like a poor facsimile of this. You can mimic the touch, but you can’t come close to copying the weight of his body against yours, his mouth on you, the way his silky hair feels under your fingers. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasp out, sinking your teeth into your lower lip to stop a moan from tearing out of your throat. Instead of verbally responding, Cassian drags his tongue up the column of your throat, tracing the path of your jugular. It nearly hurts with how good it feels, this assault on your senses, and you move one of your hands down to clutch at his shoulder. 

You nearly choke when Cassian presses one of his fingers into you, so much thicker than your own. He sighs into the crook of your neck as you clench down around his finger, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Feel so good, love,” he says, so quietly that you almost miss it. His digits work in tandem, a brutal double assault that has you quivering. “If we had time, I’d want to taste you.” 

You’re already so overwhelmed; bringing up how heavenly his mouth feels on your cunt seems wildly unfair. 

“Tease,” you say, but there’s no real protest behind it. Every one of your nerve endings feels like it’s burning you from the inside out, your lower muscles locking down as you get closer to coming. Cassian must know that you’re so nearly there; he moves his fingers faster, managing to brush against that spot inside of you with every pass. 

Without warning he adds a second finger, curling them both inside of you. The added pressure against that little bundle of nerves on your inner walls is what sends you hurtling over the edge. Somehow, you have enough sense left to clap one of your hands over your mouth, muffling a moan behind your palm. Your orgasm tears through you like a wildfire, fierce and blazing, and you have to close your eyes against the onslaught. 

Cassian keeps working you as you come, pressing kisses onto the back of the hand you’re still holding over your mouth. When you finally peel your palm away he catches you in a kiss before you can take a deep breath, leaving you lightheaded. Rather than sating you, coming once has only made you greedy for more. 

Part of you wishes you could strip Cassian out of his uniform, to remove all the layers of gaberwool and linen and leather so you can really feel him. You can appreciate how good he looks in an Imperial uniform - it has its own twisted appeal - but it doesn’t compare to the rare trysts where you’ve both managed to undress. 

You know the body under the uniform. He’s all lean muscle and olive skin. There’s a faint dusting of dark hair on his chest, and more leading down to his groin. And there are sensitive spots on his shoulderblades and sides that make him groan and shudder when you drag your nails over them. 

Shoving the fantasies abruptly aside, you focus on what you have in front of you. Bringing your hand down, you slide it into the small gap between your bodies and try to find the fastening of Cassian’s trousers. He jumps when your fingers brush over the outline of his cock, nipping your kiss-swollen lower lip in retaliation. You feel the hitch in his breathing when you finally succeed and wrap your fingers around his length. 

The hand he has between your legs moves to help you, pulling his cock free and coating it with your slick. You take charge of keeping the fabric out of the way, your slip and his tunic gathered above your hips. It’s awkward, but you don’t have an alternative and both you and Cassian are past the point of caring, the desperation only making you clumsier. 

“Please, Cassian-” your voice sounds ragged even to your own ears as you plead with him, trying to get him to hurry. The kiss broken, he looks down at you with those big brown eyes, softer now than when the encounter had started. Before you can open your mouth again, he pushes into you, filling you with one slow, deep roll of his hips. 

The feeling makes you want to sob and your head pitches forward onto his shoulder. There’s no space to pull away, no chance for a reprieve from the ache of your muscles trying to stretch to accommodate him. It’s been too long; you’re out of practice. You give yourself up to it, clinging to his shoulders as he presses you harder against the pillar. 

Once he’s buried to the hilt in you, he doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath. His fingers twist into your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him again. You’re vaguely aware of him hushing you as his mouth returns to your throat, but he needn’t have bothered. You can’t get enough air into your lungs to make a sound anyway. 

It’s so quiet out on the balcony that you can hear the obscene sound your bodies make as he slowly pulls back out of you, leaving just the head of his cock inside you. 

“Fuck, love, can I-” he breathes against your neck. 

“Yes, whatever, please,” you cut him off before he can even tell you what he wants. You don’t care. Right now, he can do whatever he wants to you. 

Cassian doesn’t wait to be told twice. He fills you again with a snap of his hips, setting a fast, hard pace that leaves you gasping. If not for his hands and his body keeping you up, you would have collapsed to the floor by now. It’s all you can do to hold onto him as he drives into you, that familiar heat starting to flood through your veins again. 

Neither of you can be completely silent, not in the face of such an onslaught. He gives up on your neck and bites down on the shoulder of your robe, muffling groans and grunts against the expensive fabric. When the first whine escapes you, Cassian claps his palm over your mouth. You can’t help darting your tongue out to taste the salt on his skin. 

Between the pillar and Cassian, you have no room to move; you are only able to stay there and take what he gives you. The heat licking through your veins is so overwhelming that you feel feverish, Cassian groaning into your shoulder as you tighten around him. The pleasure has a sharp edge to it and you drink it in, determined to commit as much as you can to memory. You never want to forget this. 

It’s not long before you find yourself teetering on the brink of another orgasm. You’re so tightly wound that he could probably breathe on your clit and send you toppling over the edge. Instead, you slip one of your hands down and trace erratic, clumsy circles over the little bundle of nerves. 

Heat sears through you as you come, harder than last time. You sob against Cassian’s palm as all the tension that had been building releases at once, your heart beating so hard you wonder if Cassian can feel it against his chest. He groans against your shoulder as your cunt flutters around him, his fingers squeezing you tighter. 

His thrusts get sloppier, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release. You rake your fingers through his hair, letting your nails scratch his scalp and wishing you could sink them into his back instead. His mouth finds your neck again, giving into the urge to bite down on the delicate skin as he comes. He pushes himself as deeply inside you as he can, grinding against you until he’s spent. 

A hiss escapes through your teeth when he pulls out of you, come already starting to trickle down your thighs. You’re both silent for a while, trying to recover your breath and calm your racing hearts. Cassian gently eases your leg down and drops his other hand from over your mouth. Instead, he sweeps his thumb over the skin he’d bitten down on. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he whispers. Leaning heavily on the pillar for support, you shake your head.

“It’s okay. It’ll cover.” It’s low on your neck; if the collar of your dress can’t hide it, you have cosmetics that will. When he’s long gone, off on some barren world, it’ll be a reminder for you. 

“Are you sure that you’ll be alright?” He’s still stroking the tender skin, but you know he’s not just talking about whatever discomfort the bite might have inflicted. Infidelity would be a death sentence for you; such an embarrassment to the Commander would not be tolerated, even here on a relatively peaceful world. 

“I could tell my husband I pinched it in a necklace and he would believe me,” you say, trying to make light of it. For a moment, Cassian looks as though he might say something, but the moment passes. He busies himself with fixing his uniform, tucking himself back into his pants and retrieving his gloves and cap. 

“Take care of yourself, love,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss on your temple, “I’ll pass along what you told me.” 

“Be careful.” It’s a pointless warning - he always is - but it makes the corner of his mouth tug upwards anyway. You watch him as he disappears over the edge of the balcony to climb back down to the lower levels. 

Once he’s gone, your first order of business is a bath. Your thighs feel sticky, and you hope the warm water will help you relax. You’ve barely shut the balcony doors behind you when a sharp knock on your door makes you jump. 

“Yes? Who is it?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level as you tug your robe back around you, hoping it hides the mark on your neck. 

“Josolé, milady.” One of your handmaids. You breathe a sigh of relief; if they’d caught Cassian leaving, they would have sent a squadron. “We noticed the lights were still on in your suite; is there anything you need?” 

“No, thank you. I’ll be running a bath and then going to bed,” you call out in the direction of the still-closed door. Before you can turn towards the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The bitemark is near the base of your throat, and you can’t help but run your fingers over it, just as Cassian had. All it would have taken was your handmaid disobeying your order to be left alone, and walking into your bedroom while you were on the balcony with Cassian. The idea of almost being caught unsettles you, and you resolve to be more cautious next time. 

You’re positive there will be a next time. 

[fangirlshrewt97]

RRR Fics Masterpost

If AO3 would be easier, you can find my works here.

Updated on 10.05.2023

RRR Fics

1. Beginning to Feel Like Home: A cute moment of Bheem realizing how comfortable he feels in Ram’s apartment. 

2. A Promise Forged By Betrayal (Ram Version) (Bheem Version): Exploring their thoughts right after the whipping scene/escape scene. 

3. Never Known Anyone Like You:  My take on what happened between Bheem winning the dance off and the cut shot to Ram carrying him on his back.

4. Perfect Treat for a Heatwave: Short and sweet fic where Ram introduces Akthar to a new treat! 

5. Straying into My Heart: A funny one shot featuring an adorably oblivious Akthar, a cat, and a jealous Ram who is also very confused. 

6.One More...For Luck: A 5+1 fic with Bheem kissing Ram 5 times, and Ram returning the favor.

7. Jewelled Marks: A soulmate identifying marks AU with a lot of angsty Ram content. 

8. Biding My Time (Yours is Coming Soon): My take on Ram’s thoughts from the scene of Malli and Bheem’s escape to Scott’s death.

9. Late Night Indulgence: A short companion piece to one of my incorrect quotes. 

10. Criminal Cuteness: A tooth-rotting fluffy piece featuring a sleepy Ram and an indulging Bheem.

11. Stick to What You Know (Ram Version) (Bheem Version): Two separate prompt fills that were of a similar nature. 

12. Beautiful Sunrises, Cruel Ironies: Funny/fluffy fic that turns angsty. Akthar takes Ram for an early morning ride, a conversation is half had, and Ram gets angry at the universe’s cruel twist of fate. 

13. Watermelon Crush(er): A semi-crack modern AU where Malli sees a video on social media and convinces Bheem to recreate it. Ram takes vital damage to his HP.  [Part 1 of 🍉🥭 ‘verse]

14. Let’s Witness the Stars Tonight: Two late night instances where Ram and Bheem enjoy the night sky. 

15. Shells, Waterfalls, and Memories: A fluffy piece where Bheem takes Ram swimming, and they talk and remember being kids. 

16. Not Enough Words (To Say Thanks to You): Based on the prompt “I’ll bandage you”, Ram shares some words he has been withholding from Bheem, expressing both his regrets and his gratitude. 

17. Come Rest Your Weary Head: Honestly, just the boys falling asleep. Fluff to the max. These two don’t get enough sleep. Or at least Ram doesn’t. 

18. Caught You: A genderbent!Rambheem fic.

19. Lean On Me (I Know This Feeling): A hurt/comfort fic where Bheem is grieving the loss of a friend, and Ram tries to help him. 

20. A Very Reasonable Fear: When there is a small scare with Ram’s biggest fear, Bheem volunteers to help him overcome it. 

21. Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery: Ram’s missing a few things. Malli decides to put on an act. The others are just there for the fallout. 

22. Bheem - The Hunter: A prompt fill fic, basically Ram sees Bheem during a hunting trip. Bheem realizes he may have a chance after all. 

23. Terribly Thought Out Help: When Malli gets in trouble at school, she asks Ram and Bheem to go meet with the teacher...It goes like you’d expect.

24. When Does The Caged Bird Sing?:  Essentially following Bheem and Malli from their escape to Malli starting to heal from her trauma.

25. Why A Rose?:  A gift from Jenny has Bheem befuddled, leaving Ram to explain it to him. And to receive a gift in return.

26. Playing with Elephants:  As they are trekking through the forest, Malli spots something that leads her and the boys on a quick detour to find something very interesting. It all turns very fluffy once they find what they are looking for.

27. Marking Me Onto You: Ram thinks Bheem got hurt. Bheem just got a new tattoo. Ram experiences a lot of Feelings. 

28. By The Light of the Diyas: Basically Ram remembering his family in the days leading up to Diwali through an old tradition

29. Messy Mango Munching: A kind of sequel to Watermelon Crush(er) where Ram gets his revenge with the help of mangoes.  [Part 2 of 🍉🥭 ‘verse]

30. Christmas Checklist Confusion: Another entry with Modern RamBheem featuring them getting their Christmas gifts in order.  [Part 3 of 🍉🥭 ‘verse]

31. Maiden Trial: A Bheem x Kala Bhairava story featuring gender expression exploration and cross-dressing. [PG-14]

32.  A Dream Come True: An adorable one-shot set in an A/B/O universe featuring RamBheem being besotted over their daughter (and each other).

33. The Burden of Atlas: A Hurt/Comfort fic with Bheem feeling too many things, and Ram letting him know he doesn’t have to do it alone 

34. Honey Gold Eyes and Tiger Cubs: Kid!Bheem meeting a tiger cub.

Dhruya (Dhruva (from Dhruva) x Daya (from Temper)) Fics

1. Nap Time, ASP garu!: A cute little prompt fill based on an image prompt from @burningsheepcrown. Dhruva tries to relax, fails, Daya to the rescue. 

2. Smoke Curling Around Us: Another fic inspired by a @burningsheepcrown doodle. 

3. About The Two of Us: A follow-up to “Smoke Curling Around Us”. The morning after, they have an important conversation. 

4. A Rosy Surprise: A follow-up to “About the Two of Us”, Dhruva receives an unexpected surprise at the station that throws him for a ride!

5. Of Fears and Butterscotch: The next entry in the Dhruya Saga. Dhruva receives an unexpected package and it brings up some feelings the boys work through. 

6. I’m Right Here: Daya has a nightmare of a past event. Dhruva offers comfort.

7. Terrible Bedmate Behavior: Just a fluffy piece of some shenanigans that happen at 4 in the morning.  

8. Grumpy Cat Attitude: A rough encounter at a party has Dhruva grumpy and Daya trying to cheer him up.

9. Manali Memories: The boys take a trip and make priceless memories.

Jairava (Jai (from Jai Lava Kusa) x Bhairava (from Magadheera)) or JaiHarsha Fics

Tale As Old As Time [PG-14] - Whole Work on Ao3, Act 1(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11), Act 2 (Part 12, ...)

TAOAT’verse One shots:

1. Drunk with Affection: Basically Drunk!Bhairava being very affectionate and Jai not being able to handle it.

JaiRava One-Shots

1. Intertwined till the End: An AU with Dark!Jai. Warning: Major character death

JaiHarsha Fics:

1. My Best Friend and My Brother

2. Afternoon Delight [PG-14]

Siddhara (Siddha (from Acharya) x Veera Raghava (from Aravinda Sametha Veera Raghava) Fics

1. Because I Knew You: An introspective character study of Siddha and Veera Raghava, where they are in their journey towards healing, and the impact they have already had on each other.

RPF Fics (Ram Charan, Jr NTR, Upasana Konidela, Lakshmi Pranathi, SS Rajamouli, etc.)

1. DILF Jakanna?: So we all know our favorite director is maybe not the most up-to-date on his internet slang right? My take on what could happen if he was faced with a particular term, and the reaction from our heroes.

2. A Family Photoshoot: Inspired by one of Tarak’s photos from Japan, a little speculative fic of what might have happened around the time of the photo.

3. A Dog’s A Heavy Burden: A cute little drabble featuring Rhyme, Upasana, Ram Charan.

4. Rest Among Thigh Skies: An RPF where the four men of the RRR crew end up falling asleep in the place.

Story Summaries (These are “summaries” or plot synopsis for long fics that I am not planning on writing, but am sharing if anyone wants to use them as inspirations for any of their fics. I just ask that you let me know if you will be using an idea!)

1. JennySita Story Summary: Rather than a full fic, this is a detailed story synopsis of a JennySita rewrite of the movie.

2. Dhruya 1940′s Film Noir Synopsis

3. Malli, Lacchu, & Jenny Synopsis

4. RamBheemJenny Canon Remix

5. Charak New Looks Mafia AU Summary

6. Tarak and Abhay Fluffy One-Shot

Feel free to send me prompts, but I am already working off a list, so I cannot make any promises of prompt fills. And please let me know your thoughts on my fics! I’d love to hear feedback, just so I know what people are enjoying and how to put more of that into the future stories!