#keeping the egg warm and safe beneath his hand :)

[shotmrmiller]

Bro imagine sd!simon overhearing bs!reader cry to their friend that they got knocked up as if these walls in this apartment aren’t paper thin. Reader is like real upset and voices that she thinks Simon wont come support her as a baby daddy and the friend advises abortion and now ur door is getting kicked down fbi style

i'd start sending that funeral wreath to your friends mom cuz they're extra dead. like instead of 6ft under it's 12. 24, even.

simon's having n o n e of it.

as if he hasn't been manifesting a baby from the start. why tf you think he's always kept a warm palm on your belly???

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: ermm angst. and another ending that will make u guys mad at me IM SORRY

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authors note: SRY idk how to write dramatic scenes like that ☹️ im gonna be better prepared for the next part so u guys can communicate PROPERLY w drew n not in some STUPID restaurant. anyway if u wanna be part of the tag list, let me know in replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

your fingers trace the outline of freckles on his arm as he talks about a memory from your past. the soft murmur of his voice blends with the steady rhythm of the waves outside, each sound wrapping around you like a lullaby. there’s no clear distinction between his words, just a gentle hum of familiarity and warmth, like he’s telling you something only the two of you could ever understand.

you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the slight shiver that follows each brush as if he’s waiting for you to react, to smile at whatever joke he’s just made.

and you do. you always do.

it feels easy, like breathing, like everything else fades away in this moment.

you’re both lying there, tangled up in each other, the world outside irrelevant. his voice is like the background music of a song you never want to end, and the smile in his tone is contagious, making your heart flutter in a way that feels like home.

and in this space, you’re in love. you’re safe. there’s no distance, no secrets, no hurt—just you and him, where time doesn’t seem to exist. it feels perfect, endless, like nothing could ever come between you.

his hand finds yours, and you smile—because here, in this place, nothing else matters but the two of you.

but that’s not your life.

the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers feels too real, too perfect—yet there’s a gnawing sensation in your chest, a quiet voice whispering that this can’t be right. you pause, staring into his eyes as they flicker with life, his laughter still echoing in your ears. and then, just like that, it hits you.

“this isn’t real . . .” you murmur, the words slipping from your lips like a confession, soft and sad.

the moment shatters, and you wake up with a start, eyes blinking into the early morning light. for a second, your heart races, still tethered to that dream. but as you take in the quiet room around you, reality sinks in like a heavy weight.

drew lies next to you, sound asleep. his breathing is slow, peaceful, completely unaware of the storm brewing in your chest. his face looks calm, almost serene, and for a moment, you can’t tear your eyes away. you wish things could be this easy—simple, like they were in the dream.

if only he knew what you know.

after making that sundae with leila last night—past midnight, no less—you thought you’d be able to shake off everything that happened, but it just made you feel worse. the messages you saw on drew’s phone replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to let you find any peace.

now it’s morning, and as you drag yourself out of bed, you already feel exhausted. your eyes are gritty, head foggy, and the sun through the windows of the house feel too bright, too warm—too much. you rub your eyes as you shuffle down the stairs, hearing the chatter of everyone gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

everyone’s already there, looking refreshed. gia’s laughter rings out from the kitchen, and you catch leila’s voice, animated as always, chatting with theo. they’re all gathered around the kitchen island, passing plates of food around—scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. the smell of coffee hits you, and you could almost cry from how much you need it.

leila notices you first. “good morning, sleepyhead!” she greets with a wide grin. “we were wondering when you were gonna wake up. there’s plenty of food left—grab something!”

you give a tired half-smile, barely lifting your head as you mumble, “morning.” your voice sounds flat, even to yourself, and you trudge over to the counter, grabbing a cup of coffee first before anything else.

theo leans back in his chair, eyeing you. “late night?”

you nod, stifling a yawn as you pour your coffee. “something like that.”

leila doesn’t miss a beat, already steering the conversation to her plans. “so, now that we’re all here, i’ve got some exciting news,” she says, “theo booked us a reservation at this amazing restaurant in town tonight, the pearl. we’re talking grand—so dress up nice!” she claps her hands together, clearly excited about the idea.

the group is enthusiastic—gia’s already asking what she should wear, and roman’s grumbling about having to dress up, which earns him a jab from libby. you sip your coffee, trying to focus, but everything feels like it’s happening at a distance.

“y/n you okay with that? dinner?” leila asks, pulling you into the conversation.

you glance up at her, blinking through the haze. “yeah, sure,” you reply. “sounds fun.”

she narrows her eyes at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “you sure? you seem a little out of it.”

you force another smile, trying to shake off the sluggish feeling. “just tired. i’ll be fine.”

gia chimes in from her seat, giggling as she steals a slice of toast. “maybe you just need more coffee.”

you nod, lifting your mug in agreement. “definitely.”

the conversation continues without you as everyone starts talking about what they’ll wear tonight, throwing out outfit ideas and making plans for the day. drew is sitting across the table, looking as refreshed as everyone else, laughing along with them. but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long.

he catches your eye across the table. he looks at you with a soft, questioning expression, maybe sensing something’s off. you glance away before he can say anything, focusing on your coffee again, but you curse under your breath when out of the corner of your eye you can see him get up from his seat.

he slides into the chair next to you, a casual smile on his face. “started the trip off with a pool day, and now we’re heading to the pearl for dinner,” he says, glancing at the table where leila’s organized a small checklist on her notes app. “leila’s really in planning mode.”

you manage a half-hearted nod, feeling the fatigue settle deeper into your bones.

“hey,” he continues, his tone light, “you okay? you seem a little—”

you’re already over it. before he can finish, you drop your piece of toast back onto the plate, the sound cutting through the chatter around you. without another word, you push back your chair and get up, taking your coffee with you. the others’ voices fade behind you as you walk away, the tension in your chest tightening.

drew looks after you, brow furrowed, and glances at leila, who’s the only other person who even notices your behavior. confusion lines his features as he points to you while looking at her, like asking if she has any idea what’s up with you.

leila shakes her head in response, but glances up at you walking up the stairs in concern. drew seems unconvinced, but he nods, turning back to the table as you disappear upstairs. and you’re grateful for the distance, even if just for a moment.

Liked by theohain, oscareyre113, and others

y/n 🐚

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user1 divaa

user2 I MET U THE OTHER DAY YOU WERE SO NICE!!! 😭😭

↳ user3 YOU ARE SO LUCKY

user4 mother

gia.carinteri ure so cute

↳ y/n love u

leilajharmon angel baby

user5 Are you and Drew still together?

user6 y/n annual post i’m so grateful to be this early

user7 I miss Tempest :(

↳ user8 me too

user9 Why don’t you ever post Drew?

as you step into the pearl, the warm glow of the lights and the soft murmur of waves greet you. leila and theo lead the way, their laughter weaving through the air as they navigate the restaurant. you grip drew’s hand reluctantly as you follow the group.

the server guides you to a table outside, and your breath catches at the sight: the seaside view stretches out before you, waves crashing gently against the rocks. a delicate black metal arch hangs above the table, draped with twinkling lights that flicker like stars. a large, lush plant sways in the cool evening breeze, and you’re in awe.

you take your seat at the outer corner of the table, next to drew. the space feels too open, and you can feel his gaze on you as you fidget with your napkin, trying to ignore the way your stomach knots.

as the conversations flow around you, he leans in, propping his elbow on the table to speak to you privately. “what’s going on with you?” he asks, “and you can’t use the tired excuse anymore. you’ve had loads of coffee this morning.”

you glance at him, caught off guard by the directness of his question. but take a breath, searching for the right words. all you can manage is a small shrug. “i’m fine. seriously. don’t worry about it.”

you wish you could sound more convincing as the server approaches, placing a beautifully plated dish in front of you. relief washes over you; at least you can focus on the food for now.

theo suddenly clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “i just want to say how grateful i am that everyone is here to celebrate with us before i marry this beautiful woman,” he gestures to leila, who frowns as she presses a kiss to his cheek. as the table raises their glasses, you join in but feel somewhat disconnected, and shut out the rest of theo’s short speech until you’re able to eat.

as everyone digs in, gia reaches across the table, poking at her food. “y/n, do you want this?” she holds up a piece of grilled zucchini.

drew interjects before you can respond. “y/n doesn’t like zucchini,” he says casually as he cuts into his food, and you look at him with furrowed brows.

“oh, right.” gia laughs, realization hitting her. “i always mix you two up.” she turns to libby, who’s already reaching her plate across the table.

gia’s cheeks grow red as she giggles, and you continue to watch drew. your eyes meet briefly, but there’s an unspoken barrier between you, so you quickly look away, picking at your food instead.

eventually he even seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed on gia’s plate as he dazes out. roman, sitting across from you, catches on. he leans forward slightly, studying the table as if trying to read the tension, but you notice his motor.

“what are you doing?” you mouth to him.

roman raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. he glances at gia, then back at the rest of you, sensing the unspoken words hanging in the air. he knows something is up between you and drew but decides to keep quiet, because if no one else is saying anything about it, why should he?

and you understand exactly that. you roll your eyes before returning to your food.

“i could die for this garlic bread,” leila groans as she breaks a piece off and eats it. just from hearing it, theo reaches over to take a piece.

you hum as you reach your hand over, and drew grabs a piece for you when he realizes what you want. just as you sit back against your seat, a server from a nearby table accidentally brushes against you as they rushed by, a full glass of red wine slipping from their hand.

time seemed to slow as the glass tumbled, spilling its contents directly onto your lap. your mouth is gaped open and your eyes clamp shut as some of the wine bounces off and hits you directly in your face too.

the others gasp as they stare at you in horror.

“oh my g—” the server exhales, eyes wide with panic. “i am so sorry! i’m so, so sorry!”

you’re frozen for a moment, the cool liquid spreading across your dress, soaking through the fabric. you feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, and there’s a rush of embarrassment washing over you.

“perfect,” you mutter under yourself as you try to maintain your composure. “just what i needed.”

the server continues to apologize profusely, almost stumbling over their words. “i’ll get you some napkins! please, let me help!”

“it’s fine,” you tell him, forcing a smile despite the discomfort. “just . . . give me a moment.”

as you stand up, the chair scrapes loudly against the ground, and you can feel the wine seeping down your torso. you quickly glance at drew, who looks alarmed, his fork mid-air.

“y/n,” gia calls to you, but you’re already moving toward the doors, desperate to find a restroom.

“just let her go,” roman says quietly, sensing the tension still simmering beneath the surface. gia is worried as she watches you disappear inside the building.

drew rises from his seat and tosses his napkin onto his seat, pulling his sleeves up before hurrying into the restaurant to find you. meanwhile the server is urgently trying to clean your seat but frowns at the stained floors.

just as you reach the restroom, he catches up, breathless and urgent. you feel like groaning when you feel like you just can’t catch a break. “y/n! hey, wait,” he calls out to you, sliding past a man who tries to return to his table. “sorry.”

you halt, irritation surging. “what? what, what? what do you want?” your voice is strong and sharp, turning around to face him.

he stops in front of you and winces at the stains on your clothes, and he glances up at the doors of the restrooms when he realizes you probably should clean it off your arms and chest at least.

“i know you’re upset, but—” he begins, concern lacing his words.

“upset? you think that’s all it is?” you snap back, meeting his gaze. you actually feel insane with every word you release. “you don’t understand what this feels like.”

he looks confused, searching your eyes for clarity. “what?”

taking a deep breath to calm yourself as best as you can, you continue, “do you have any idea how humiliating it is to notice everyone stop talking and feel their eyes on you? and the moment you do get up and walk past them, all you can hear are their murmurs and whispers about how— how embarrassing this all is? it’s suffocating!”

he opens his mouth to respond, but you press on, frustration spilling out. “and it’s not even just about tonight. it’s about how it feels to find out your own fake boyfriend is keeping secrets from you and has been this whole time.”

his expression freezes, shock washing over his face. “what? keeping what from you?”

you consider your choices for a second before stepping forward to reach into his back pocket, but there he reacts—as swift as ever. like he has something to hide. and he does.

he grabs a hold of his phone before you can and when you look up at him, you can feel the guilt in his eyes. but seeing that doesn’t hurt you as much as it does when you understand how fast he is to keep his phone away from you.

you take a step back and feel yourself falter. tears well in your eyes as you watch the way he grips his phone like suddenly it matters to him. it never has before. and you know why it does now.

“so you do know what i’m talking about,” your voice is quiet, a mix of betrayal in your tone that causes drew to reach out to you to say ‘wait’.

“when in the last year did you turn into a child?” you whisper to him, a faint scoff leaving your lips as you stand before him. you’re confronting him in a hallway of a restaurant for crying out loud.

“when you make a plan with your ex-girlfriend, you make sure there isn’t somebody already waiting for you back home. you don’t get close to me while we’re here and you don’t keep it from me the whole time . . . i mean, when were you going to tell me? or tell mila?”

he shakes his head slowly, “i’m getting close with you for the others, remember? that’s our plan.”

“then you shouldn’t hold me and hug me when it’s just us, drew.”

his heart drops at the sound of his name, the familiarity twisting into something more painful in this moment. “y/n—”

“no, don’t ‘y/n’ me,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “you can’t just play both sides. if you’re going to keep secrets from me, then don’t pretend like we’re something we’re not when the rules don’t apply. it’s clearly more than just showing out in front of leila and everyone when it’s just us.”

“but it’s not like that,” he insists, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “we’re trying to make this work for everyone else!”

“for everyone else? or for yourself?” you ask him. “because i swear to you, if i had known mila existed, never in this universe would i have ever agreed to the plan. because it hurts all three of us. do you understand?”

you wait for him to say something—anything, but you’re not surprised when he just stares at you with the same look in his eyes.

it’s too much. way too much. and you still have so many things to say.

are you betrayed that your ex-boyfriend has someone new? are you even able to be mad at that?

“was it worth it?” your voice cracks as you struggle to get the words out. “i keep asking myself, was it worth it to feel so alive, even if it led to this? or would it have been easier if this just never happened at all and we just told them instead of doing all of this for fucking nothing.”

as the last words escape your lips, you push the restroom door open, leaving drew in the hallway in silence.

girl .. ill make a better confrontation in the next part or something what the fuck. im compiling a whole list of his mistakes rn so i can actually be prepared for it too LMAO

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @cl4uus @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy

[politemenacephd]

Period pains (SFW Version)

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Contents: Lots of comfort from Miggy who wants to take care of you.

Word count: 1970

Notes: I'M BACK and im going through it let me have this please god

It was 7:30am at your apartment, and Miguel was checking his hair in the bathroom mirror.

He’d gotten up early to make coffee and eggs for you both, so you’d hopefully at least eat something before you headed out for work. he’d seen you accidentally miss breakfast one too many times.

He brushed back his hair and grumbled a little, noting the little shadow of stubble around his jaw and the flick of what might be a grey hair on his head, only to pause.

Where were you?

You were always awake by now. You’d been unresponsive spare for a few grunts when he woke up at 6am to get in a few pull-ups and a cold shower, but, that was pretty normal. By now though you’d always be at least listening to videos on your phone.

But… he couldn’t hear a thing. He slowly left the bathroom and headed down the hall.

‘Mi amor?’

Miguel pushed your bedroom door aside and whispered for you. The light inside seemed to be off, with only your bedside lamp on to illuminate the space, which surprised him further.

He pushed into the room and allowed his dark red eyes to adjust to the gloom with ease.

‘Mi amor? You- oh, mi alma.’

He dropped that soft, sympathetic nickname as he spied you utterly buried in the sheets of your bed, your face barely noticeable beneath the soft folds of fabric. He knew that face.

‘Mi alma, shh, it’s okay.’ He whispered soothing little words as he tutted and dropped down to your side, his knees bent into a squat so he could stroke the hair from your face. He watched you sniffle.

‘You’re cramping again, aren’t you?’ Miguel whispered.

‘It’s really bad, Miggy’ you whined. You looked unbearably tense, your nose creased from straining against some unseen hand squeezing your lower abdomen like a cruel god. He could see the exhaustion, the pain, the way your lips were slightly nicked from being bitten.

Miguel maintained his soft expression, gently running a worn hand down his face. ‘Shh, shh. No se preocupe, mi pobre angelito/a…’

He whispered that word over and over as he leaned in and kissed your neck. ‘Pobrecito…’ he purred, letting his lips linger up to your ear and temple and finally your head, where he tenderly breathed in your scent.

‘Pobrecito…’

‘I-I gotta go to work, Miggy, f-fuck… Ah, I don’t know what to do’ you whimpered, tensing as another tight cramp made you curl in on yourself. You looked utterly drained. ‘I used up all my sick days, and my boss sucks, ah…’

Miguel’s face changed immediately, from soft to angry. His thick brows lowered and his lip curled, revealing a flash of his fang. He looked so stern, so protective. ‘Absolutely not’ Miguel said, his voice taking on a firmer tone. ‘No. Not on my watch.’

‘They won’t let me take time off just to—’

‘Let me talk to them.’

‘W-Wait, what?’

‘I’ll talk to them! I’ll explain.’

‘Miggy, that’s not how this works—’

‘It’s how it SHOULD work’ he insisted harder, with his clawed finger now pressed to his chest. ‘You’re hurting, you shouldn’t have to work. It’s that simple. Please, just- I’ll take care of it.’

‘Miggy—’

Before you could even get a word in, Miguel got up and stormed over to the apartment landline. He scrambled in the dark for your little notebook of numbers before eventually realizing it was written on the kitchen whiteboard and not in there. He gave you another quick, tender kiss and then hurried to the kitchen to call your work.

You could only faintly hear him from inside the bedroom, but you knew he was heated. You could hear him arguing, spitting things in Spanish before dipping to remind the person on the other end just who he was.

‘¡Oye! What did I just say? I keep this city safe, and that includes you. Now, I’m keeping THEM safe. Do you understand?’

You felt your face getting warm at Miguel’s insistent whispered shouting.

‘Look, I’ll pay for an extra shift, whatever the hell you want. I’ll send in a note to HR explaining the situation. Do you want Spider-Man leaving a note to your boss? Or do you want to just be reasonable, and let them rest for just one day, because you’re sick?’

Your embarrassed heat grew deeper, rising to the point that it almost hurt.

It sounded like, in the end, he lectured your boss for so long on human anatomy and why you needed time off that they just caved and hung up.

When he reappeared in the doorway with that same soft, sympathetic smile on his rough, chiseled face, you couldn’t help but manage a soft chuckle.

‘They’re just gonna get rid of me now, so they don’t have to deal with you’ you mumbled up at him. Miguel approached the bed without concern.

‘Mm. They can try. I’ll remind them again that the protector of the city and the multiverse is overseeing your care’ he said in that smooth, rough voice, carefully parking himself on the edge of the bed once more. His weight caused the mattress to creak, nearly jolting your body with the size difference, but he steadied your hip with one hand over the sheets.

‘Okay, let me just…’

With his eyes trained on you Miguel reached beneath the sheets and groped around until he found your soft belly, and with a sigh, he started stroking it. His palms were warm, his fingers calloused and thick, his hand big enough to just fully envelop your lower abdomen no matter how bloated it was.

‘Shhh’ he cooed.

‘I’m not a- baby, Miguel’ you grunted back, though you were clearly enjoying the contact.

‘Mm. No. Wrong’ Miguel said with a soft chuckle. ‘You’re my baby. Mi alma, mi vida.’ He bent as he spoke to kiss your forehead, all while continuing the gentle strokes, letting the warmth of his hand soothe a little bit of the pain.

‘I’ll think, if I can, I’ll try to get in contact with Lyla in a minute. I’ll let her know that. if there are no big emergencies, I’ll be staying in today. Okay?’ he whispered against your temple.

‘Miggy, you don’t need to take time off as well just for me’ you grunted. You saw his playful red eyes crease, revealing the little lines by his cheeks. ‘Mm. I don’t need to, no. But unless the multiverse is falling apart at the seams… My job is to take care of people who need me, such as…’

He paused mid-sentence to bump your nose with his own. His skin was a little rough, so coarse and masculine. ‘Cute little civilians like you, eh? So, if the only person I save today is you, that’s my job done.’

‘You- dummy’ you grunted, laughing in spite of the pain as it made you wince. Miguel’s eyes softened with worry.

‘You stay there, and I’ll take over. Okay?’ he whispered. You sighed as the cramp loosened its hold on you.

‘Yeah… Yeah. Okay.’

From then on, Miguel was in full care mode.

He kept the lights low and brought in another blanket from the winter storage cupboard, just to make sure you were comfy and totally covered.

He went to the kitchen and ran the hot water, filling up the little plush hot water bottle shaped like a fluffy spider he’d got you as a gift a year or two ago when he found out how bad your cramps got.

He made hot chocolate over a pan on the stove, knowing you probably didn’t want bland tea or coffee since you were sleepy, but he added a bit of chili like he always did to give you something nice to enjoy while the cramps went down.

He brought it all in himself, his huge arms piled up with items. He was a little overkill, yes, but you let him pamper you. You were in no position to argue, and it wasn’t like the attention wasn’t welcome. You knew he thought of this domestic bliss as a privilege, not a chore, and so you’d gotten used to him spoiling you rotten.

‘Here, mi amor. Gently.’

He sat down and put the hot chocolate on the bedside table, and he watched as you quietly sipped at it with the sheets still huddled around your shoulders. It was a bit too hot and you almost burned your tongue, but it tasted so damn good. The satisfied little mumble you released was enough for him.

As you settled into the sheets, Miguel reached down and held up the little hot water bottle, waving it lightly. ‘Mm? You want this too?’ he whispered. When you nodded his smile widened, and he playfully walked the little fluffy spider up your belly and over your face before shifting it beneath the sheets.

‘Don’t! You know that thing terrifies me’ you said, spluttering slightly on your words as the spider-shaped bottles fluff got in your mouth.

‘Oh, no, scary’ he teased, pressing the warmth against your lower abdomen over your shirt. ‘Don’t be mean to him. He loves you so much, see?’

You rolled your eyes but did eventually relax, clutching the little plush to your navel. It was so warm, so fluffy. You could feel the slight dampness on the fur from condensation. It was soothing as you clutched it close.

Miguel’s eyes softened even further. ‘Good, good. There you go’ he whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. ‘Now… Do you want your very handsome, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man to crawl into bed with you?’

‘Oh my god, stop’ you giggled, admiring his charming but slightly goofy smile. You had to admit, he was a good distraction. ‘Yeah, come on, hero. Hop in.’

Without another word Miguel shifted beneath the sheets himself, throwing off his shirt until only his pyjama pants remained. He kicked the sheets up and yanked you close to him, squeezing you tight to his chest.

‘Mm… Mmm, mi amor’ he purred, pressing his sharp chin and jaw into your shoulder blade. He clutched you to him like you were a plush doll, spooning you hard from the back until you were squished against his pecs and belly and thighs, and he held you there as you tucked his chin above your head.

‘Miggy’ you murmured under your breath.

For a while you both lulled, half asleep and half awake, with your phone sideways on the bedside table quietly playing your favorite videos to keep you company. You were still in a bit of pain, but it was fading into a dull ache now, leaving you to enjoy the warmth and safety of Miguel’s body.

[the-californicationist]

Hi hi! Love your blog! For the Gift of GIF ask game:

Thank you so much for the GIF ask!! So glad y'all like this ask game. Sorry about the delay. Hope this is something you like!

TW: DaddyDom language, female genitals, sex toys, safe and explicit consent, come play

Shore Leave

Your husband, Alex Keller, finally makes good use of his time off and takes you on your dream vacation. Little do you know that he has darker motives…

The view from your poolside suite was breathtaking in all of the best ways. An endlessly-reflected infinity pool bled right into the deep cerulean Pacific Ocean, making it seem like you could swim forever and ever and never stop. The sky was a mirror of the water, cloudless and pure. Although the sun was out, you were comfortable, and the breeze made you feel like you were always in a limbo between being awake and trapped within a lucid dream. 

Even more enthralling was the way your husband’s body felt beneath yours. He was shirtless, clad only in a light pair of linen pants, and his warm body was curled around you protectively like a covetous hound. You’d never felt so safe. 

However, you were also made to feel other things as well. 

It had all started very innocently. He’d woken you up with poached eggs and freshly squeezed juice, running a warm bath and rubbing you down with lotion and oil before you stepped outside. Then, he’d gifted you with a brand new thong bikini, his eyes hungry as you tried it on. You thought you’d be following him down to the beach, eager to splash in the waves and show off your new fit, but he pulled you onto the pool deck instead. 

He’d kissed you softly, teasingly. It was so different than his usual rabid fervor. You loved the way your husband could barely keep your clothes on when you were alone. You’d missed your dinner reservations more than once. But, you reasoned with yourself, he was always on deployment. Of course he was a little excited. 

Now, though, that excitement had given way to mischief. As you had sat by the pool, kissing and holding hands, innocently watching the ships float by, you’d been lulled into a false sense of security. 

And so, here you lay, your pussy stuffed with an automated vibrator, your poor unused asshole filled with an enormous plug, whimpering and begging for relief. Every time you would get close, writhing your body against his, trying to entice him with your hands and your long, smooth legs, he ignored you. He could control the vibe from his phone, and you never knew which way he was going to go. Sometimes, he would switch it off, watching you desperately humping his leg like a feral dog, swollen and perched on the edge of an orgasm. 

His dark chuckle made your blood run cold,

“Does my good girl need something?”

Alex peered down into your face, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, smug and thoroughly enjoying himself. 

“Oops,” he adjusted your thong again, jiggling the plug as he did so, “Keep these nice and high for me, baby. Need to be able to admire this plump ass of yours. Mmm. What a view.” 

A hard, aching squeeze of his huge hand on your ass cheek made you see white, the sensation of all of his toys inside of you making even the smallest affection feel like wildfire. 

“Please, Daddy, I’ll be a good girl. Please, may I come… please?” You tried to beg. You’d tried before. Nothing was helping. You could feel the slip and slide of your slick between the meat of your inner thighs. 

“Not yet. Trust me, honey. I know what’s best for you, don’t I?”

You didn’t say a word, but you watched wide-eyed as he pulled another velveteen drawstring bag from his case. When he opened up the box, you could tell he’d already inspected and cleaned it. All of its wrapping was gone, and the straps were already in place. 

It was a familiar piece. He’d used gags with you before, and nothing brought you more pleasure than allowing his hands and mouth and cock to bring you to your peak over and over again while you mindlessly allowed your shining drool to melt down your neck and onto your tits. When he removed it and allowed you to swallow him, replacing the silicone ball with his warm, softening cock, already emptied of its seed — you’d never come so hard in your life. 

But this was no ball. This was a fat, silicone cock gag. 

“Daddy, please. I’ll be quiet. I promise. Please… No, I’m —” 

“Hey, show me your left hand,” he became very serious. 

In your hand, you held a loud alarm button, your finger over the trigger, ready to press it at any time. When he saw it, checking in with you that you were still in your safe zone, he smiled.

“That’s perfect, baby. Such a good little slut for me. How did I get so lucky?” He kissed your cheek, shining with old and new tears, streaking down your face from overstimulation, and he planted chaste kisses on your quivering lip. You let yourself lean towards his affection, seeking more of his comfort, only to be firmly held back in place with his hand as he wrapped around your cheek.

“Shh, shh. Daddy just wants you to feel so good, baby. Now, open up.”

You stared at him with huge, gleaming doe eyes, tears threatening to run out of the corners of them again. 

When you didn’t immediately comply, he grabbed the nape of your scalp and yanked your head back, not hurting you, but getting your attention. 

“Am I gonna have to bruise that fine fuckin’ ass, huh? Make you walk down the fuckin’ beach with my palm prints all over you?”

“No, Daddy. I’ll be good. I’ll be good,” you gasped when the vibrator started up again as he flipped a switch. The shock made you clench down around it, which jostled the heavy plug, all in a series of mind-numbing chain reactions designed to edge you within an inch of your sanity. 

“I know you will be. Now… open… that… mouth.”

Alex pressed the tip of the gag to your lips and you opened up for him, sucking it into your lips just like his cock. He pushed it all the way in and it almost landed in the back of your throat. Any further and you wouldn’t be able to breathe. It was a perfect fit. 

Then, slowly, almost painfully so, he pulled it back out, staring into your eyes and seeing what you needed. 

“Go on, baby. I know you wanna suck it for me. Show me.”

You wrapped your lips around it again, and as he held it in place, you bobbed your head up and down, your tongue lapping at the head of his toy. You made sure to look straight into his eyes as you used your mouth on it, letting your spit coat the silicone and drip onto his fist. 

He removed his hand from your head and pet your hair gently, smoothing it away from your face.

“My poor, hungry little whore. Let’s fill you up, hm?”

Your protests became warped into a garbled whine as Alex pressed the toy all the way into your mouth, making sure it was flush and, before you knew it, you were being latched into the gag. The cock you were sucking was now perched at the farthest edge of your tongue, the soft head pressing into your palate, threatening to choke you. 

Alex bent his neck to kiss your mouth as your lips stretched around the toy, smiling as he turned his attention back to his phone. He turned the vibrator down to a medium rumble and removed himself from your cuddling position to stand near the edge of the pool chair. 

“C’mere, baby. Lemme show you somethin’,” your adoring husband held out his hand and you struggled to stand with him, stumbling on shaking legs. 

He walked you over to the tall dividing wall between your suite and the popular beach, each step making the toys thrust up inside of you as you swayed your hips. Your weakness and the unevenness of the ground made your footing jerky and chaotic, adding to the creamy, lurid jostling happening inside of you. The pressure from the anal plug was so satisfying, and your vibrator teased your most sensitive spot, deep within you, just like a curling finger. Without your thong, you know your vibrator would have slipped out of you on your journey. You had never been so wet, and the way the toy was wriggling inside of your hole was making you dizzy. 

Finally, you made it to the wall and used it to support yourself, squeezing your thighs together, desperate for some relief. Alex pointed down to the beach, showing you the little umbrellas and towels full of soldiers on shore leave, all oblivious to your torture.

“Put your hands on the wall, spread your legs apart, and don’t move them until I tell you to. Hold up a two if you understand me.”

You held up a two with your hand and then placed both of your palms on the wall, gripping it for dear life, feeling the long thread of your tangled orgasm beginning to unravel. Alex nudged your legs even wider, changing the angle of the toys within your body. The vibe buzzed away deep within you, faithfully held in place by your tight thong. 

Then, you felt the familiar loosening of your bathing suit top as Alex yanked out the bow you had tied, letting the small fabric flutter away, revealing your breasts to the soft breeze. If any of the partying soldiers got too curious and decided to study you from below, they’d surely be able to see your dark nipples as they tightened on your tits, unbelievably sensitive in your current predicament. 

You whined, and Alex shushed you, 

“Shh, baby. I know. What if they see? That’s why you need to be nice and quiet for Daddy, hm? Wouldn’t want to attract any visitors, now would we? Now…” He grabbed your hips, his thumbs digging into the v-shaped strap of your thong, “Suck that cock for me while Daddy plays with his toys.”

You tried to focus on his instructions, but you couldn’t bear the anticipation. What was he about to do to you? You let your eyes wander back towards him, trying to prepare for whatever came next.

A rough hand came around to grab you by the jaw,

“What did I say? Show me how you swallow that dick, honey, or I’ll make you scream so they can all watch you do it.”

You nodded as best you could, trying to show him you could be a good girl for him, and you experimented a little, swallowing in an exaggerated rhythm, feeling the gag sliding back and forth through your mouth as your throat moved. It made you drool a bit, the spit pooling at the ring of your stretched lips, running down your chin. 

“That’s it,” Alex praised you, rubbing his clothed cock against your ass from behind, “That’s what I wanna hear. Keep sucking, just like that.”

So, you did. As you swallowed and suckled on the solid shape, it began to feel more and more like the real thing. The ridges of the head, the pronounced veins of the body; it was all contributing to the absolute mindrot you were already experiencing. You let the cock fuck your mouth, using the tension of your tongue to mimic the feeling, allowing your thoughts to dissipate in favor of the sparkling blissed your husband had promised you. 

Alex kept his crotch jammed against the cleft of your ass, forcing you to feel his hard shaft as it rolled against you, reaching around your body to softly pluck at your nipples. 

At the first touch of his fingertips, you gasped, sucking in air through your nose, nearly losing your footing. His hands mirrored each other, rubbing feather-light circles around your pebbled skin, petting your heavy breasts with the palms of his hands. He was fire and ice, at one point squeezing your flesh cruelly and pinching you hard enough to make you cry out through the muffle of the gag, and then sweet as could be, stroking and petting you like a scared bunny. 

You weren’t sure of the concept of time. It could have been only seconds that he played with you like this, or perhaps an hour had gone by. You just knew that your lover wanted to hear your hungry suckling sounds and to touch your swaying breasts. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. 

Then, he pulled the other string at your back, letting your top fall to the ground. 

You missed his touch immediately, turning your head to look back at him, questioning his choices. It was the wrong move. You knew he would take care of you, but your fervor made you selfish and doubtful. 

You faced the ocean again, watching the soldiers as you swallowed against the dick in your mouth, ignoring the obvious lines of spit hanging from your mouth. Alex came around to the wall and perched himself against it. After watching you for a few moments, he took his hand and wiped your mouth, smearing your own spit all over your tits, wetting your nipples so that the cool air could tease them. 

Then, right in front of you, he unbuttoned his fly and took his cock from his pants. He began to stroke it in a languid, lazy pattern, slathering his precome over his immense head and down his shaft. Surprisingly, the cock gag made you hungrier for the real thing, and you eyed him like a prize. 

“I want to make sure you’re really enjoying this vacation, baby. I planned it all for you. Are you having fun?”

You nodded enthusiastically, knowing he was leading up to something threatening. You loved him like this. And he loved you when you were fully under his command. Under his care. All for him. His plaything. 

“I’m about to look and see how much fun you’re having…” He let his fat cock hang and walked around to your rear, “Are you ready for me to see the pretty little mess you made, darlin’?”

You nodded again, steeling yourself for what was coming. 

He placed his hand at the very middle of your thong and pulled up on it instead of down, cramming the toys inside of you deeper than they had been, making you writhe and whine, losing control of your legs, feeling them trembling, barely able to hold you up. 

He let go. You breathed as deeply as you could, feeling like the cock in your mouth was growing down your throat, wishing you could scream in earnest. 

Then, he rolled down your bottoms until your spread thighs stopped them, your ass and pussy now on full display.

He hummed with pleasure, and you heard his pants fall to the ground, rustling in the grass and pooling around your husband’s ankles. 

Suddenly, fingers began to tug at the plug in your ass, pulling it in an undulating pattern against your muscular ring, making you feel like you were being fucked by a thick cock. Then, he applied even pressure, and removed it, letting your hole clench around nothing for a moment before teasing you with the rounded tip. Alex let it fuck you shallowly for a while, pressing it forward only a few inches at a time, barely applying any pressure at all. Until he put it back in. He stretched you again, and you realized that since you’d become all too comfortable at the thin, flat base, and you hadn’t had a chance to get accustomed to the insane girth; it was as if you were starting from scratch. 

You rolled your hips, trying to ease the pressure, and he rolled the toy with you, playing with you like a lion plays with its food, batting you around, helpless to his power. 

The vibrator was flailing inside of your pussy at top speed, pulsing and rumbling loud enough for you to hear the mechanical whir. And every time he pushed the plug back inside of you, the tone of it would change. Your body was making music for him, and you couldn’t help it one bit. 

“Beautiful…” You could hear the smile on his lips. 

Everything stopped for a moment, but you thought you heard a soft slicking sound, the noise of him jacking off. Then, you felt his fleshy head push its way into your pussy, already filled by the deep vibe. 

You turned around, worried, unable to protest with the cock still deep in your mouth, pinning down your tongue. 

His sunglasses were off, and he was focused on your hole, using your sticky come to coat himself, thrusting shallowly inside of you right beside the vibrator. 

He wasn’t going to fit. You’d never felt so full before. You were already so primed, the audacious lewdness of it all sent you over the edge. You crashed into your orgasm like a runaway train, slamming full force into a wall of sensations. Your skin flushed hot all at once, like an instant fever, and you felt your holes clutch desperately onto anything they could find, squeezing and pulsing and swelling against him. 

You lost your strength to stand, but he held you, carrying your weight like it was nothing. And he kept pushing forward, easing his cock right beside the toy, holding it steady inside of you. 

“There she is. You’re doing so well for me, baby. Daddy’s perfect little hole.” 

Once he was fully sheathed within you, you both sighed raggedly, melting into the feeling like molten glass in a kiln. Below you, the soldiers laughed, running through the shallow water, having the time of their lives. 

Alex began to fuck you with very little heed for your well-being. You had your button, you could press it at any time, and out of all of his fun toy box prizes, you’d not once felt like anything had been beyond your abilities. But, now, as his cock made room for itself in your tight walls, you wondered if you could take it. 

You understood size queens, the girls who insisted on girthy, long phalluses and who refused to settle for less. You knew why they insisted, now. Your g-spot was lit up like a beacon. There was no waiting to feel his cockhead rub lightly against it. No, it was on and it stayed on because of the terrible girth of both the toy and his dick. You were coming not in waves, but in some sort of constant stream. There was no start and stop to your orgasms; you were given no let down on their end nor warning on their beginning. You were just kept in a hot, milky, perpetual state of bliss that made your eyes roll back into your head. 

The plug in your ass began to come out of you as you came. He was pulling against it, prying it from you until it popped free. You knew you were gaping open for him because when he explored the empty hole with his fingers, you could tell how pliant and soft your body was now that it had been so deeply filled. 

“My good girl. Taking everything her Daddy gives her today.”

Alex praised you, but you didn’t respond. Your mind was a blank slate. All you could do was tumble further down the winding path of your own pleasure. 

You felt him pull himself free from the grip of your pussy, gasping from the relief. He slipped the vibrator out of you, too, switching it off and discarding it somewhere. Then, you were empty. So empty that it felt like grief. And you cried out for his help as much as you could around the gag. 

“C’mere, honey. On your knees for Daddy.”

You fell to the ground limply, turning toward him for guidance, for any sort of reprieve. 

He looked down at you with so much love and admiration, bending to kiss your forehead and removing your gag. 

“So good. Such an obedient slut. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“But, Daddy, you didn’t come, yet.” You pawed at his hips, rubbing his belly and reaching for his chest, stretching yourself to try and give yourself back to him.

“Today’s not about me, baby,” he smiled sweetly at you, but you weren’t having it. 

His cock was pink and flagging, practically dripping with precome, ready to burst. You reached for it, feeding it into your sore mouth, sucking it down like you’d been practicing on the gag. It was too big, but you pushed through it, swallowing and swallowing until you couldn’t breathe, hollowing out your cheeks to make your mouth into a warm wet sleeve for him. 

“Baby… oh, shit. Ungh! Holy hell.”

Without any further hesitation, he began to fuck your throat, shoving himself deeper and deeper, controlling your head and moving himself within you like a piston. You let yourself go limp again, allowing the pornographic slurping sounds of your rough-fucked mouth to be as loud and as messy as he wanted them to, abandoning your shame. You rubbed yourself with your hand, shoving your fingers into your soaked pussy, and playing with your clit, already sensitive enough to come again. 

He had trained you so well. This was your moment to shine. 

You came with him, looking up into the twisted agony on his face as he filled your belly with his load, trying to pull away to let you breathe, leaving a trail of thick spend all along your tongue and cheeks, your mouth full of him by the time he slid away from you. 

You made sure he was looking down at you when you spit him into your hands, letting his milk pool in your palms, rubbing him all over your puffy nipples and down between your swollen petals, pushing him into your pussy with your fingers only to return to your breasts to smear him around like a salve. As he watched you in excitement and a wild disbelief, his gaze darkened, and he wrapped his hand around your throat, bending down so that you could hear the rough growl in the timbre of his voice,

“Oh, baby. You just bought yourself round two.”

AO3 Link

Also, @glitterypirateduck - are we still in vacation mode?? 😅🩷

[emilykaldwen]

Title: Moonshadow Ship: Jacaerys x Helaena WC: 859 Rating: Gen Summary: Jace and Helaena tell stories beneath the light of the moon. Written for the @hotd-bigbang prompt: Moon Notes: Many many thanks to @acrossthesestars for her beta powers and helping me find the jace and helaena pictures and to @selfproclaimedunicorn reassuring me it wasn't terrible to begin with. this story isn't specifically related to any of my other projects, but you are welcome to consider it part of Maiden canon, or for last year's entry, The Lighting of the Blaze

The pair of them sat atop Visenya’s tower - the tallest in the Holdfast. Jace’s heart jumped into his throat when Helaena had clambered upon the red ledge, the wind catching at her silver hair, her laughter dancing on the breeze.

“You’ll fall,” he told her, but followed, as he always did, to perch beside her. The height was dizzying in a way that flying did not quite catch. He thought it was, perhaps, because there was no safety of his dragon beneath him. Just stone, warm from the day’s sun and his own practiced balance to be safe.

He tangled his fingers through Helaena’s, not for a moment thinking that he’d be able to pull her back should she fall. No, instead he would fall with her. She had woken up, frantic and tearful, and found her way to his rooms a night not so long ago, gasping as she crawled into bed with him. 

“I fell I fell I lost my wings I lost them they were taken I fell I fell.” 

Helaena had babbled those words over and over until his neck and nightshirt were soaked with her tears and he had to keep her sobs muffled lest one of the guards hear and discover them.

Her fingers were delicate, deceptively fragile when he knew how strong her grip was; how those very fingers could turn to claws just as they could stroke gently down the line of his spine.

“The Red Priest in the market told a story,” she whispered now, months later, far less frightened than before. The night was bright; the moon hung heavy and round in the sky, the blanket of twinkling stars so beautiful and wondrous, streaked with distant clouds that caught the light.He felt so small beneath the expanse. “He said that Azor Ahai thrust his sword into the breast of his wife, Nissa Nissa, and her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the moon.”

“I don’t see a crack,” Jace mused, his gaze searching across the bright shine of it. Dark blotches, certainly, but no tell-tale crack of an egg. “That’s a cruel way to treat the woman he loved the most in the world.”

“Are you saying you would not use my soul and blood to forge a great blade that would save the world?” Helaena laughed, her breath warm against his ear as the stone was warm beneath him. Jace squeezed her hand and her fingers tightened around his, reassuring. “There’s another story. There were two moons, my maid told me. One wandered too close to the sun and cracked open, birthing the dragons.”

“One of my grandfather’s crewmen told me a tale from Volantis.” It was Jace’s turn now. “That a shepherd approached the only dragon, to tame it by feeding him sheep. They would meet beneath the light of the moon.”

“In the night?” Helaena asked, a curious furrow to her brow that he brushed a kiss against to smooth. “But why is the shepherd visiting a dragon at night?”

“Because she was watching the flock to protect them from wolves,” he told her, tracking along the pictures in the sky, seeking out the fish, the lion, the hunter. “A dragon, she thought, would surely be the finest protector of her flock, for what wolf or thief would dare rouse the anger of the dragon.” She hummed softly but did not interrupt, her fingers playing with his. “Each night she came, feeding him one of the sheep to sate his hunger, so he might trust her, and eventually the shepherd lay with the dragon. The moons turned and the shepherd gave birth to more dragons.”

Helaena’s teeth scraped against her lower lip. “So the shepherd lay with the dragon and the dragon… fit?”

He snorted. “She was a very special woman.”

She shivered, giggling. “So the shepherd lay with the dragon. There were no other dragons?”

“I guess not. That’s what the story says: it was the only dragon. And that’s how the other dragons came to be, I suppose.”

“They do say that Old Valyria was founded by sheep herders,” Helaena mused. He felt her carefully shift to rest her chin upon his shoulder, and Jace turned his head slightly to brush his nose against hers. She smelled of citrus, of lemon balm and mint. “Kivio biantys,” she murmured. 

His cheeks turned red, his heart stuttering at the whisper. Promised shepherd, caretaker of the soul. Soulmates, as the Westerosi called it. His mouth went dry, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Did you dream this?” he asked, the Valyrian he’d learned from the cradle rolling off his tongue, the accent of his mother, of Laenor, of his grandmother coating the words. It was warm, different from the elegant polish of Helaena’s maester taught tongue. Sometimes he felt they should exchange how they sounded, to match their insides.

“Daor.” She blinked, soft and slow, matching lavender gaze reflecting the shine of stars, the pierce of moonglow that caught on her hair and Jace thought she was otherworldly with it - the woman of the tale he’d spun for her. “I just know it.”

[openconceptpanicroom]

The Keeper

-Chapter One: A Gift Unwanted-

Prince Aemond x Dragonkeeper!Reader

Summary: Reader is given to The Greens along with an egg before the Dance as a gift to Prince Maelor. Her job is ensure the egg hatches as a "goodwill," present from Princess Rhaenyra. However, the Greens doubt these good intentions and no one is more suspicious than Prince Aemond. Pride, lust, envy and paranoia make the One-Eyed Prince almost beastly.

TW: MDNI, Aemond is very repressed, choking, threats of violence, obsessive love interest, power imbalance. AN: Aemond's POV in next chapter.

The Dragonpit of King’s Landing was a grand system of tunnels and caverns carved into stone. At the heart of the Dragonpit sat the nursery, a circular room with filled with hot coals to warm eggs marked for their future riders. Over each clutch hung wide open vents to funnel out the smoke, though it did little to lessen the heat of this place. It was here that you spent most of your days, drenched in sweat as you changed out coals beneath the egg you had been sworn to protect. A pale green egg promised to the babe Prince Maelor, a kind gift from his estranged aunt. You first felt pride at being the one to hatch and raise this dragon for a Prince to one day ride. Now, you were… cautious. A dragonkeeper acolyte once under the charge of Princess Rhaenyra, you now rested your head so close to those she had fled from. It had not been unknown to you that the Queen and Princess did quarrel. Although, perhaps naively, you had assumed you would be safe from the crossfire of their rivalry.

It was quite irritating to be so wrong. 

Prince Maelor was no more than a week old when Princess Rhaenyra drafted together a ship filled with goods for her youngest nephew. Glittering gemstones, rare silks from Lys, handcrafted toys of fine wood from Pentos, books of varying degrees of academic difficulties, and a dragon egg with a keeper. To the untrained eye, it was selfless. Colder hearts felt differently. The usually fertile she-dragon Dreamfyre had failed to lay a clutch in two years, meanwhile Syrax had just laid one that month. To gift an egg with a dragonkeeper showed Princess Rhaenyra’s arrogance. Her belief that the God’s favored her so much that it was all but guaranteed Syrax’s egg would bring forth a new dragon. Whether or not this was Princess Rhaenyra’s intentions mattered little. You were seen as at best an insult and at worst a spy. 

All that kept you from further interrogation was the knowledge that you would never be in the Red Keep. You were, after all, a dragonkeeper. They were not to enter the palace without reason, and certainly not without guards to take them about the keep. So long as you did as you said you would and kept away from the castle, you were left alone. 

For the most part. 

As you laid red-hot coals over Prince Maelor's egg, you felt that an eye upon your back. It spread chills over your skin despite the blazing heat. You let out a slow breath and laid your shovel to the side, pulling your thick leather gloves from your hands. For weeks now, you resided here with forty other dragonkeepers. None had had issue with your being here. There was no Queen to bother and no Lord Hand to stare at you incredulously. All you did, all day, was care after the egg and assist the other keepers in their chores. Yet He still came to stare at you. To mock you. To disturb you. 

“Iksis se Dārilaros's drōmon issare jūndan tolī, acolyte?”*

You sucked burning air through your teeth, lowering your scarf as you turned to face him. Prince Aemond stood in the entryway of the nursery, the heat already showing in beads of sweat on his face. Thin strands of silvery-white hair stuck to his face, one hanging just over his eyepatch. He was dressed to ride, all in black with one glove on and the other still in his fist. Black were his clothes, like that of a raven. A one-eyed raven. He used to be so quiet, Prince Aemond. For a brief time, you had known him. A freckled and shy boy with eyes of pale violet. Small and awkward, so hopeful that his egg on Dragonstone would hatch. That boy was dead. Replaced by this man that bore his name but not his heart, all memory of you gone. 

Bowing your head, you forced your voice to stay neutral, “Kessa, Ñuha Dārilaros.”*

His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, either irritated by your response or that you were yet again unbothered by him. Prince Aemond was one so used to insult, that anything without a readily available explanation was assumed to be some manner of slight aimed at him. Your presence was one of these assumed slights, was what an elder had said to you. 

“Māzigon kesīr, zaldrīzes buzdari.”

His voice was ice in your blood, and his words pulled you to him. The blood of Old Valyria was your master. Even when it mocked you. Your feet were slow but not clumsy as you stopped to stand before him. Eyes to the ground even then, as show of respect. Acolyte’s are not to make eye contact with those of the royal family. You swallowed thickly as the tips of Prince Aemond’s boots came into your view. 

“It gives me great vexation every time I look upon you. A mere acolyte, charged with caring for my nephew’s egg. Yet another example of my half-sister’s contempt. The Whore of Dragonstone cannot spare an elder, so she sends you,” Prince Aemond’s tone almost made you roll your eyes. Another accusation of negligence. Gods be merciful if you ever made a true mistake or misstep in his presence. “Prince Maelor will not suffer due to your incompetence.”

Your back ached from changing out the coals over and over. New callouses made their home over old callouses on your palms and fingers. Every inch of you was caked in sweat and soot. From the moment you rose to the moment you laid to sleep, you thought of the egg. His concerns were absurd, truly. Resisting the ever-growing urge to say so, you merely asked, “What more does Your Grace want for me to do to prove I am competent? I am your servant.”

A beat of pure silence passed. 

What was expected was more of his insults, accusations of negligence on your part. You did not prepare yourself for his ungloved hand which then grabbed your jaw. With his bare hand he yanked up your face so that you had no choice but to look at him. He pulled you close, staring down at you with the closest thing to a smile you had seen since meeting him again. Your pulse raced beneath his touch. He smelled of dragon, of bergamot, and coriander. Hair of starlight and one piercing eye of violet. Confronted so close and so suddenly by his fury and his beauty, blessed by the blood of Old Valyria. It felt indecent to be so close to one such as he. To know his palm was now marked by the filth of your labor. 

His hand slipped from your chin to your throat, fingers closing slowly. The coldness of his stare marked by something darker. Lips moving, he murmured something you couldn’t quite catch. It was growing hard to focus. To maintain composure. The sweltering heat, his glare, his fingering stealing your breath with every second. 

At last, you let out a whimper of a moan. Prince Aemond’s voice answering it with an audible groan. It was quick, but you heard it. Just as he released that hungry growl did he release you. You hacked and coughed on air that was too tainted to give you any sort of relief. By the time you could take a breath without wheezing, he was several feet away from you. He gave one last warning before leaving you in the nursery that day, “My nephew’s egg will hatch, or you will feel the consequences of your failure. Do you understand?”

All you can do is bow and say, "I understand, Your Grace."

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

High Valyrian Translations (*)

"Is the prince's egg being looked after, acolyte"

"Yes, my prince"

"Come here, dragon slave"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 15

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, oral/noncon, coercion, cum, some untagged sexual and dark elements.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Masterlist

You’re silent as you take out the pre-cut ingredients for an omelet and set to the task, paying passive attention to the instructions housed in the leather folder. You know how to make a goddamn omelet. It’s one of the few things you know for sure.

You thought you knew your husband, thought you knew how life would go, thought you knew at least one person you could count on. You were wrong. Like everything else, it’s turned out horribly wrong. Now here you are, making breakfast for some perverted creep who would care more if the eggs were burnt than about you.

You huff as you put a pan flat and try to light the burner. You flick the button over and over, growing frustrated and hitting the stove with your fist. You growl and hang your head. You’re not going to cry.

“Take it easy, doll face, or I’ll have to take that out of your allowance,” Lloyd teases.

You ignore him and try again. It lights. You focus on the task, straightforward, simple, safe. You go back to the fridge and count out three eggs. You place them on the counter as Lloyd comes up to meet you.

“No one likes waking up to that,” he says.

“What do you care?” You snarl as you search the cupboards and pull out a bowl.

“Well, you seem kind of upset.”

“Isn’t that what you enjoy?”

He doesn’t reply as he taps his fingers on the counter, looming, watching you as you do your best to tune him out. He bends to lean his elbow on the marble and squints up at you.

“Lot of gals wouldn’t take it so well. You’re holding it in and it’s not gonna be pretty–”

“Enough,” you snap as you find the whisk and slam the drawer, “and why the hell don’t you put some clothes on?”

He stands straight and shrugs, giving a playful smirk, “thought you might need something to distract you, I don’t know.”

“Why the hell are you asking me all the questions. You must be loving this. You saw me humiliated again. You were right, all along. I’m not good enough for that asshole– and where the fuck did you get a gun?”

“Talk about a lot of questions, sweet cheeks,” he tuts, “you’re right, let’s not get too deep.”

You sigh and add a touch of milk to the eggs and beat them to a smooth yellow. You feel him, lingering. It’s so fucking annoying. You need him to go away. You peek over as he leans on the counter, his focus still on you. You let the whisk rest on the edge of the bowl.

“Right, you need to leave me alone,” you grab him by the dick and trap him against the counter, pumping him as he gasps.

“Woah, slow down, baby, what–”

“Shut up,” you reach down to cup underneath and give a gentle squeeze, kneading him until he groans. He hardens against your impatient grasp.

“Wait, you don’t just–”

“Daddy, be real pretty and quiet for me,” you mock him as you roll your palm over his tip and make him twitch, “that’s it, let me hear it.”

He bites his lip, eyes round with shock, helpless as you stroke him, standing close as heavy breaths puff from his nose. He looks down and his lashes flutter as he braces the counter, dumbfounded by your sudden assault. You’re not thinking, just doing, anything to get some space from the idiot.

He latches onto your arm, a pathetic attempt to stop you, and you speed up. The friction is hot and dry. You bring your hand to your mouth and lick it, quickly resuming your motion as he pushes his head back and grunts. You speed up until you see the muscles in his neck and chest clench and he grits his teeth.

“That’s it, cum,” you snarl and he lets out a croak, spilling on command as he shudders and his cum drips beneath your fingers and slicken his length. You keep on until he’s trembling and you let him go without pretense.

You turn to the sink to rinse your hand with warm water and dry off with a dish cloth. You toss it at him and elbow his side as you dump the sliced green onion into the egg. 

“Go on, I’ll bring you your breakfast,” you dismiss him with a curl of your lip.

“Wha…” his voice trails off.

“You got what you want,” you continue to pour in fixings, “and I’m busy.”

He doesn’t move right away. When he manages to stand on his own strength, he wipes himself with the dish cloth, strings of his release up his stomach as he exhales heavily. He doesn’t say a word as he retreats and you scowl at your task. Thank fucking god, if he stayed another second, you might have strangled him by the neck instead.

💎

You maintain a wordless trance as you go about the morning. You serve Lloyd at the table and go to tidy the kitchen. You return when he’s finished and get him a second coffee at his request. That’s easy. Taking his orders. It gives you thoughts that aren’t your own.

When you find the table empty, you’re relieved. You continue down your daily checklist, wiping the table and pushing in his chair. You vacuum the elaborate rug in what he refers to pretentiously as the parlour. You replace his glass from the night before with the rest and carry on to the next room.

It’s after noon, you’re tired, hungry, and just as Colin deemed, miserable. You look up, startled at the sudden silent presence. Lloyd is all in black, a jacket zipped to his chin as he has a black bag hooked over his shoulder. You lower the duster and meet his gaze.

“I got a job, you got yours. I’ll be back,” he says.

“Okay.”

“Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“I didn’t ask.”

He raises a finger, his hands gloved in leather. He points at you, “when I get back, I want that attitude gone. You get one gimme. I won’t put up with that shit a second time.”

You consider him, your jaw steel as you bite down. You nod, “yes, daddy.”

He drops his hand, “good girl.” He turns but stops halfway, “and to offer what little comfort I’m willing to, this place is secured by the square inch. That fucker won’t be back.”

“I can handle him.”

“Yeah, well I’m telling you, you won’t have to.”

You swallow and accept it. It’s not exactly a glowing declaration of affection, but what it is is as close as he’ll ever come to genuine humanity. 

“Thanks.”

“I’m off,” he raps his knuckles on the door frame and swiftly strides away. 

You listen to his footsteps, followed quickly by the front door. You wait until you’re certain he’s gone. You go out to the entryway and peer around. You tiptoe to the side table and slide open the drawer. It’s empty.

You sit on the stairs and set the duster down, rubbing the wrinkle in your forehead as you think. That’s not a good idea as everything hits you at once. Colin and his true feelings, Lloyd and his covert career. Questions you don’t want the answers to; how long had Colin been repulsed by you? Why the fuck did Lloyd have a gun? And what were you doing here?

You drop your head into your hands and suck in a breath. When you let it go, it all comes out. The tears, the grief, the angers, the fear, every emotion drains from you until you're crumpled on the floor. Is this what rock bottom feels like?

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober 28

28. Cuckolding, Aphrodisiacs, Temperature Play sequel to… x

You let out a long, juddering breath and feel the warm swim of Crowley’s eggs inside you. God, you have never been so full before. You run a hand over your swollen stomach, laughing at the gentle jostle they create beneath your exploring fingers.

Crowley is wrapped around you, still in demon form. His tail has swaddled your legs and his human-presenting torso is keeping you clutched to his chest, caressing your hair with his long dexterous fingers.

“You are gorgeous like this,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your crown. You skim your fingers along his flank, his skin delicate and ticklish beneath you. 

“Could say the same about you.”

He tangles your lips with his own, kissing you long and slow. You feel his tail constrict ever so slightly, forcing your legs together, making your clit catch a little. You moan into his mouth and feel him smile in return.

The door to the bedroom opens and Aziraphale walks in, a small amount of lamb and roast potatoes piled onto a plate. He sits on your free side and smiles, reaching out to stroke your face.

“How are you feeling, my dear?”

“Full.” Your stomach rumbles loudly at the smell of food. “And hungry, actually.”

Aziraphale laughs as you reposition yourself to sit up a little, before feeding you little delicate bites from his fingers. You moan at it. Everything is just so heightened at the moment, and the tender care your lovers are taking with you is making you feel… it’s making you feel…

You swallow a bite of lamb. Something shifts inside you. And, as you press down on your abdomen, you feel something pop.

“Oh fu-uu-uuu-UUCK!” you cry as a slick liquid dribbles out from between your legs and you come harder than you can remember doing for years. It’s probably because of the shock of it - your poor body wasn’t expecting to be launched into orgasm, so the thing fucking hits you like a tidal wave. Aziraphale puts the plate down - but not before he sneaks a potato for himself - and Crowley unwraps his tail, letting you open your legs.

“Crow-?!” you start, shocked, but moan as another pop echoes through your womb, another waterfall of slick. You grab each of their hands and grip so tightly you think that you might actually break their fucking knuckles. You’ve never felt pleasure like this. It’s absurd. It’s divine.

“They’re dissolving, nightingale,” Crowley whispers against your ear. Christ, his breath is hot and soft and fuck you are going to go mad. 

“I didn’t realise–”

“Neither did I, when I did this,” Aziraphale mutters, dropping a kiss to your hand, “just ride through it my darling. You’ll be fine, I’m sure. I told you they were aphrodisiacs.”

You moan, push, another two bursts inside you. More pours out from you, along with your own release - the pressure hitting your g-spot inside is making you squirt. You collapse back into your lovers.

“Oh god, oh god, someone touch me, someone please fucking touch me…”

They’re both there in an instant. Crowley pushes up inside you, touching that already raw and edged sweet spot nestled in your inner wall; Aziraphale presses down hard on your clit. You come at the feeling of it but he doesn’t stop. 

It can’t last more than twenty minutes, but by the time you’re done, your body is flat again and the mattress is soaked. You collapse into the pillows, so thoroughly spent that you think you might pass out.

Your lovers are there, gripping your hands and grounding you. You’re safe. With them gently calling your name, you come back to the moment.

“Are you alright, my darling?”

You nod.

“That was… oh god. Can you do it again?”

Crowley laughs, showing a mouthful of those beautiful white teeth. His fangs glisten.

“I only need to do it every hundred years, give or take. But that’s need. I might be able to produce a few more beforehand.”

“Yes please,” you say, far too quickly, and all three of you laugh. Then, after a beat, you ask a question which has been lurking for a little bit.

“And… if they took, what would that be like?”

You see Crowley and Aziraphale exchange a look. Ah. Well, that can’t be good.

“It’s… they wouldn’t, love,” Crowley says quietly, wiping your hair from your sex-sticky forehead. “I’m sorry. It needs two demons, and…”

“...and I’m just a human,” you finish. He doesn’t want to, but he nods.

You put on a brave face and flash them a smile.

“Well, no matter. Can’t imagine I’d want twelve little Crowleys wriggling around anyway. Excuse me for a moment,” you get to your feet, probably far too soon, and wobble over to the earth closet, closing the door firmly behind you.

That’s the first indication they get of you wanting something more. Aziraphale sees Crowley’s brave face shatter, so he reaches out to take his lover’s hand. Crowley squeezes his fingers but can’t meet his eye. 

Now they know what you want, it breaks their hearts that they can’t give it to you.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons  @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler

@darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael @jelly-terror @larkiesparkie

[kingofthe-egirls]

FOX TALES: LUFFY x OC (Or, when LUFFY asks you to join his crew)

fox tales

(cw: original female character, kitsune oc, stealing, kitsune lore, mention of past dog bite/farmers)

(a/n: welcome to part 1!!!)

Songs: "Dress" by Charlotte Sands

words: 1k

You’re crouching in the dark next to a chicken coop, listening to see if the hens are asleep. Luffy is crouching behind you, having insisted on following you on your hunt.

“Shh!” You hiss, whirling around as Luffy steps forward, snapping a twig. Too much noise could wake the hens up. You point to your feet, for Luffy to follow. “Sneaky,” you whisper, “Like this.” You take a deep breath, center yourself, and melt through the air. Luffy inhales sharply.

“Kit,” he hisses, “Where’d ya go??”

“Right here, dumbass,” you rustle your fingers quickly so he can hear where you are. You weren’t used to having a partner.

“I can’t turn invisible, fox-tail. And I can’t see you at all!” he squints his eyes in the dark, waving around to try and find you.

“Here,” you whisper, grabbing one of his wrists. “And you can see me if you blur your eyes. Keep me at the edges of your vision,” you turn his cheek with one hand, so it was just the outer corner of his left eye that was facing you. “That’s how you see spirits with mortal eyes,” you say.

“Thanks,” he says, scrutinizing you with one eye, “It’s like opals.”

You blush, and drop his chin. “Just try to keep up, okay?” He nods, and you turn back to the chicken coop. There’s not a lot of noise from inside, besides some rustling of feathers. You duck inside the squat doorway. It smells like wet straw.

The first chicken clucks a bit as you dart your hand beneath the warm feathers, and close around an oval object. Quickly, you start filling your basket with eggs. Just enough to not be noticed, only one or two from each nest.

The floor creaks behind you.

“Hey, chicky!” Luffy stage-whispers to the first hen in the row. “Got any eggs?” He starts poking at the hen’s face, and she wakes up with a squawk. No!

“Hsst!” You spit through your teeth, grabbing Luffy’s wrist. The other hens have started rustling more, and you’re reminded of the farmer’s dog. Your forearm stings at the thought of the old bite wound he left you. “Cmon,” you growl, pulling Luffy out of the henhouse. “Time to go.”

You dash outside, Luffy protesting behind you. A quick glance up at the moon, and a portal opens in front of you. You step through. Luffy tumbles in after you.

“Fuck,” you groan as you shut it behind you again, now safe in your backyard. You stomp over to your fire pit, and set the eggs down none too gently. Two clack against each other and crack. “Ugh!” You shout, kicking over a log. You whirl around to Luffy, who’s standing brushing himself off. Laughing.

“How dare you be that loud!” You accuse, face hot. He looks up at you in surprise. “We could have gotten caught!”

He holds up his fists, casually. “I could’ve fought them!”

“I didn’t want you to fight them!” Your ears are flattened against your scalp, your tails whipping back and forth in anger. “You can’t just keep fighting things for me! You have to listen to what I say! I’m saying it for a reason!” Hot tears are flooding your vision. Luffy steps forward, but you keep going.

“I’ve been bitten by their dog before, Luffy! I’ve been chased by their pitchforks! I’m smart, and I’m clever,” you wrap your arms around yourself, squeezing hard. “But I need food.” The months of scraping by on scraps has left burn marks in your gut. Your breath comes in ragged sobs. “If we had gotten caught, they could have set the dog loose on us again, and then he’d have both our scents. Or worse, they’d start chaining him to the coop at night. And then what’ll I do? What’ll I do once you’re gone?” You spit the last word out like stone, shivering with cold. You want your coat.

“I’m sorry, Just Kit,” Luffy stands in front of you, serious. “I didn’t think about your future. Or the danger I could’ve put you in. But,” he lifts his chin up, “Why don’t you just keep some chickens here? Seems like a lotta trouble for just a few eggs.” He raises an eyebrow, a challenge.

You shake your head back and forth, vicious. “There’s no animals here, Straw Hat. Just half-spirits, like me. If I try to keep a chicken here it’ll just die,” your voice is flat, “I’ve already tried.” You sniff, and wipe at your eyes. You glance over at the black hen’s grave, a bickering old thing who’d caught sick within a week. “I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.”

“There’s no half-chickens?” Luffy cocks his head. You huff out a breath, an almost laugh. You rub a palm against your cheek.

“Not that I’ve seen,” you say, sniffling a bit. “But if you find one, lemme know. Maybe there’s a spirit chicken with eggs you could actually eat.”

Luffy knew how you’d gotten here. Half-feral and bloody, banished by the spirit world to a realm in between worlds. Alone. Half-mortal, suddenly, with a body you knew nothing about. Nothing to eat, needing to sleep, unable to pass through the veil to go home. Nowhere was home for you, but here. Stealing eggs and tracking moon cycles, learning how to live.

“Come with me,” Luffy says, “And you’ll never be alone again.”

****

“What?”

You stare. His mouth is set in a firm line, his brows drawn down hard over his eyes. Blood is rushing in your ears.

“Join my crew,” he says again, arms crossed. “I have the best cook in the world. He could make eggs for you. And our navigator would like you. She steals things too.” He tilts his chin up, “And I could use someone like you.”

You shift. “What do you mean?”

Crickets chirp in the night. The moon is bright overhead, casting brilliant white beams all over the yard.

Luffy gestures excitedly. “Your skill! I’ve never seen anything like that, vanishing in midair! You’re good at hiding, and thinking things through. You can paint, too.” He puffs his chest out proudly, “I think the king of pirates deserves an artist, don’t you? Who else will paint my portrait?” He grins, and then turns serious again as he faces you. “But you have to want to. You still haven’t said if you want to.”

The pond ripples in the moonlight.

“I’m a mess,” you hedge, scared. He nods.

“I know.”

“I’m half-fox.”

“So what? I’m half-rubber.”

“I cheat,” you say, desperate, “I lie and I steal.”

“Pirate life sounds perfect for you,” he walks closer to you, glaring down at you in challenge. You think he’s going to ask you for a duel. “Unless you’d rather rot here all alone?”

You bristle at his taunt, tails whipping back and forth. He’s in your face now, nose barely touching yours. “Well, fox-tails? What’ll it be?”

Your heart pounds. You’ve never left this place before. Not really. But your eyes sting at the thought of having someone to share stories with over a campfire. Not just anyone, though. A whole group of people. A whole crew.

“Yes,” you breathe, “I want to come with you. Please,” you hitch another sob, “Please take me with you! I don’t want to be alone anymore!”

Luffy tackles you in a bear hug. “I’m your captain now!” He laughs, triumphantly, “And I order you to come home with me!”

[snkts]

The first break of morning light spread across their quilt, warming the night chilled room. Victor shifted beneath sheets, furs, and blankets, the familiar weight pressing him into the comfort of their mattress. He purred, nuzzling into Logan’s neck and curling his arm tighter around Logan’s midsection. Logan smelled of sweat and his familiar scent, and the lingering cigar smoke from the light they shared last night out on the porch. He kissed Logan’s cheek and scraped his teeth across his skin. Logan grunted and Victor smiled into his hair, “sleep in a bit, darlin’. I’ll be back.” And acquised to a slow, languid kiss, Logan slipping his tongue past his lips to taste him.

While Logan slept, Victor went downstairs and prepared breakfast: eggs, bacon and sausage, fried tomatoes and onions, and toast lightly buttered, served alongside a bowl of fresh fruit. He brought up on a tray so he and Logan could eat in bed while cuddling, and kissing. Victor told Logan his plan for the day: including a dinner and movie out in the city, in the evening.

Logan nuzzled into Victor’s neck and Victor kissed him softly. Smiling against his lips he murmured: “I love you, Logan. Happy birthday.”

Sleep weighed over him like ten tons of earth. Held down by their blankets, trapped body heat, and the scent of his mate, Logan was as good as paralysed. Nothing existed but this. Just him, Victor, their bed, and the endless void behind his eyelids. Just this. Just them. 

Of course, he can’t sleep forever. Consciousness ebbs in eventually - but Logan is stubborn, and Logan is a fighter, so he fights this, too. He finds the crook of Victor’s neck with his eyes still closed and buries his nose in it. It smells even more like home now. He’s given much the same treatment when he shifts, and Victor’s hot breath warms his skin. Logan sighs and sinks into the touch. The arm holding him close bids him relax, and that, he doesn’t fight. He’s comfortable. He’s safe. And, as Victor is quick to remind him, he’s loved. So, so loved. The scrape of teeth and facial hair earns a muffled grunt, and Logan tucks his arm around Victor’s shoulders. He’s about to muster the willpower to sit up and face the day when Vic tells him to stay down. Well, fine, yank his arm, why don’t you? Logan settles easily, but demands compensation in the form of a kiss. Slow and sweet, and he took a gentle fistfull of Vic’s sleep shirt to hold him close, slipping his tongue past his mate’s lips with a quiet hum. He can taste his mate, salty, sweet, smoky, safe, and might’ve tried for another if he wasn’t gently pushed back down. Okay. Sleep.

Fine. 

He could do that. And he did, slipping into the warm blackness with his arm thrown around Victor’s pillow, keeping his mate’s scent close. 

Eventually, he woke up a second time. He sat up and stretched his arms over his head, grunting as his shoulders cracked, and popping his claws for good measure. It was satisfying. Helped him be a little more awake, too. Logan rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, scratched at his jaw– 

Scented the air. 

Food. Hot, fresh, delicious food, mingling with the equally tantalising smell of the love of his life. Now he’s awake. He’s staring eagerly at the door when Victor returns, tray in hand. Logan tries not to salivate. Victor joins him in bed and Logan manages to ignore the breakfast spread long enough to express his appreciation with a few soft nips to Victor’s pulse-point and a quiet ‘thanks’. One more nuzzle and he turns to the food. As usual with the cooking staff here, the spread is even better than it smells. And it's been a while since they got a moment without the kids, so forgive him if he's affectionate. He rests his head on Victor’s broad shoulder in between bites, nuzzling his cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt. 

“Mh. Love you.” He mumbles as he skewers some tomato slices on one of his claws. He eats while Victor relays the days’ plans to him, and he smiles.

“Sounds perfect.” And it did. Just the two of them, a nice dinner, and a kung fu flick Victor had happened to find at a smaller theatre. Maybe drinks after… What else could he want? Victor gives him everything and more. Victor knows him so damn well. He loves him so fucking much. And he says it, turning his face into the crook of Victor’s neck. 

“Love you, too, Tiger. You’re spoilin’ me.”

[blacksmokebarbarians]

hello so excited for queer greta blurbs! Not sure what ur comfortable writing but would love something for us Non binary folk 🫶🏻

a/n: hey hey hey! this is my first blurb back from hiatus and it's a very special one! it's my first blurb of pride month! i hope you all enjoy! if you do not relate to the things written, keep moving. my account is a safe place for everyone, especially those in the lgbtqi+ community, as i am a part of it myself. so, without further ado!

warnings: none!! fluff, fluff, and more fluff!!

word count: 1,000+

pairing: josh x nb reader.

Sun Over the Horizon

Swinging legs poised on the edge of the log as the sun sat graciously over the horizon. The two of you could sit in comfortable silence for hours, which was the most wonderful part of your relationship. Josh leaned back against the tree just behind the log, watching as dragonflies chased each other over the lake. He exhaled deeply, a smile parting his lips.

"I love this.. Sitting here with you, just taking in the natural world.." He assured, glancing over to you. His hand gently rested against yours atop the log, Your eyes couldn't help but graze over the light dashes of sunburn across his shoulders from the previous hours you had been out.

Once more, Josh looked out across the lake, his hand not leaving yours. He seemed to be lost in thought, but you couldn't quite figure what it was that he was thinking.

You loved being with Josh-- he understood you in ways that no one else ever had. Straying from the typical 'gender norms', you found it hard to find someone so caring and considerate. Josh having his own sense of androgyny, however, brought you comfort and made you feel embraced in his love.

You admired him as his eyes focused on the small ripples in the lake. His hair was tousled, as always, and his skin glistened under the little sunlight that was left. Finally, Josh broke the comfortable silence. "Wanna go for a swim?"

"The water might be cold.." You hesitated, looking over to him.

"Well, we'll get use to it." He shrugged, hopping down from the log. You couldn't argue with that, and besides, you loved going on little adventures with him. As he stood beneath the log, he offered his hands up, ready to help you down. As you slipped off of the edge of the log, he caught you gently, his hands resting on your hips as you steadied yourself on the ground.

Unable to help himself, he placed a gentle kiss against your cheek. His hand slipped into yours as he lead the way towards the shore. He slipped his sandals off on the sand as you unbuttoned your shirt. Finally in your swimsuits, Josh led the way, striding towards the calm waters.

Little splashes surrounded him as he made his way into the lake. Josh looked back to you, smiling softly. "C'mon.. It's not too bad." He assured, his hands outstretched to you.

"Fine.." You groaned, making your way towards him. As always, he was right. The water was still rather warm from the heat of the summer day, just a few degrees cooler than it had been a few hours ago. You took Josh's hands, your eyes meeting his as he pulled the two of you out further into the lake, the water reaching just past your knees.

"Not too bad, huh?" He asked, tilting his head slightly. "No, not too bad.." You giggled, keeping his hands in yours. Everything was calm at that moment-- the sun had finally set, the waves brushed gently against your legs, and the night was quiet. That was, until Josh's mouth opened.

"Last one under water is a rotten egg!"

Mature as he could be, Josh was still a kid at heart. He took off running into the lake with you chasing after him, the water slowly consuming him.

"Oh, get back here!" You groaned, running close behind. Finally, he dipped himself under the water. In the dark midst of the night, you could hardly see him beneath the water. "Josh?" You called out, looking for any signs of the water parting.

Suddenly, your legs were swept from beneath you, giving you just enough time to plug your nose before splashing beneath the surface. Josh came up, erupting in laughter as you popped up just after. "Jerk!" You groaned, laughing softly. Josh pushed his hair back, the wet strands falling past his ears. He couldn't stop laughing, rubbing his eyes to get the water out of them.

"You should've seen your face when you came up!" He said with a laugh, admiring you under the moonlight. As the laughter dimmed, he studied you for a moment. He pushed a slight bit of your hair out of your face, smiling softly to himself.

"Can I kiss you..?" He asked gently, his hand resting against your cheek. "Please.." Was all you could get out before his lips were against yours. He was so gentle, yet so passionate, his free hand finding it's way to your side. His hand left your cheek, resting on your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Everything about Josh felt like a dream-- how handsome he was, how sweet he was, how he kissed you with such perfect rhythm.

He slowly pulled away, a smile replacing his lips on yours. He leaned forward, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. "You're so lovely.." He hummed, studying your features.

Josh was so delicate, but in such a way that you never wanted out of your life. "Swim with me?" You asked with a smile, slipping his hands into yours.

The two of you made your way out to the deeper portion of the lake, swimming beside each other. Josh absolutely flourished in nature, but you flourished around Josh.

Josh looked up to the stars, his eyes darting from constellation to constellation. "You remind me of the stars.."

"How so?" You asked, looking over to him before adverting your gaze to the sky.

"You're radiant.. And the stars are filled with so many elements that make them so unique, yet every piece of them benefits the universe around them.. You're unlike anyone I've ever met, and all you do is bring joy to my life.."

Blush heated your cheeks as you looked back to him, and he gave you the sweetest smile.

"I love you, Josh.."

[levi-venn]

The First Toothpick

Chapter 3: A Fistful of Carrots

Gen Fic - Mentor/Protege

Characters: Cad Bane, Crosshair (the kid), Jango (flashbacks).

Summary: Cad Bane teaches Crosshair how to be a sniper. The kid picks up some other habits as a result.

Chapter Summary: The kid experiences dry land for the first time. His reaction surprises Cad...but it also gives him an idea.

Chapters: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 |

Available on AO3 here

“It’s just grass.” 

“The hell it is,” Cad said, retreating back up the ramp of the Firespray.

“C’mon, Cad, have a little faith in me. Watch.” Jango hopped out of the ship, landing waist deep in the field of golden brown wheat…

…like a damn fool.

So much wheat…stretching for as far as his scarlet globular eyes could see.

And that much wheat meant that many more places to hide.

“There’s things in there,” Cad warned, pointing to something rustling near Jango’s leg. 

“Just critters. Predators don’t come out until nightfall and they prefer Fabools to humanoids. You’re safe, I promise.”

“Uh huh…” Cad took another step backwards. “...I’ll just stay here.”

It wasn’t that he missed his homeworld - fuck Duro - but at least he knew and accepted it for what it was: A world that had traded its soul for industry long before Cad was born.  Clouds weren’t supposed to be white and fluffy like this. They should be oily and black belched from rusty smokestacks.  Even the sky here was wrong, too blue, too bright, missing the stains of putrid orange and green.  He’d been on this planet for less than a minute and already had his fill of the buzzing insects and…where the hell was that croaking coming from anyway?

“We got work to do, Cad. Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder like a bag of meilooruns.”

Cad sighed and stood on the edge of the ramp, staring down the untamed wilderness of what was supposedly a very tame ranch. The wheat stalks swooned in the breeze, like long fingers coaxing Cad into unseen jaws.

He sank one boot into the grass.

Something shrieked and shot up into the air.

Cad stumbled backwards, drawing one blaster only to have it slip from his fingers, sliding noisily down the ramp and out of sight into the wheat field. He pulled the second blaster and fired at the monster.

The convor flew away, unscathed.

“Aaaand this is why we’re here,” Jango frowned, picking up fumbled blaster and handing it back to Cad. “You’re jumpy as hell and can’t shoot for shit. If you want to keep calling me boss, get your shit together, Cad.”

“Yeah, boss,” Cad mumbled, holstering both blasters, embarrassment warming his face.

“Alright, enough lollygagging. Let’s go check on the Fabools.”

“What the hell is a Fabool?”

Cad found the kid curled up asleep in Bossk’s chair, cheek pressed against the scope of his rifle and a half-eaten protein bar in his hand. 

Beneath the chair was the kid’s duffle bag, half-open. Cad nudged it with his boot. Jumpsuits, protein bars, packs of water purifying tablets. No toys, no music discs, no personality. Not a single candy bar.

Jango loved caramel Starsbars; always kept one on him, in a pouch next to his thermal dets. He also loved fried eggs and bacon, nerf stew with extra carrots, peach-flavored tihaar cocktails (though he always claimed he drank tihaar straight), and he bobbed his head to Figrin D'an And The Modal Nodes when he thought no one was looking. 

Did all his clones experience the same joys he did? Were they even given a chance?

He kicked Bossk’s chair. “Get up, kid. We’re here.”

The kid sat upright, eyes still closed, a long, textured red line from the scope denting his cheek. “Where are we?”

“That’s classified,” Cad smirked.

“Haha, funny,” the kid yawned and slithered out of the chair. He took another bite of the protein bar, then tucked it back into his jumpsuit’s pocket.

I told him to find somethin’ to eat, Cad thought. Does he prefer his own rations?

“This hideout was Jango’s before it was mine. He taught me all I knew here n’ I’m gonna impart some of that know-how onto you.”

“I know how to shoot."

“Yeah, slower than molasses on Vandor,” Cad sneered. “We’re gonna fix that, but for now…” Cad activated the ramp. “...let’s just start with gettin’ out of the ship.”

The kid’s expression didn’t change.

Not when the door slid open.

Not when seeing, probably for the first time, an ocean of golden brown wheat, a clear sky, and a world alive with natural wonders.

Except that wasn’t exactly true. The kid's expression did change, if you knew where to look. Cad watched the kid's glassy brown eyes dart around the narrow view of the scenery, not like a frightened kid like Cad was all those years ago, but with a curious feline studying his new territory.

The kid ventured forward, standing on the edge of the ramp scanning the wheat field.  He didn’t move for a long moment.

Cad stood beside him, studying his face. The kid didn’t look scared, but something was holding him back. 

Finally, he looked up at Cad, brow knitted slightly.

Cad tilted his head. “What?”

“...is it safe?”

“C’mon, Cad, have a little faith in me,”

“Yeah, kid,” Cad said, Jango’s exasperated sigh burned in his memory. “It’s safe.”

As the kid took that first step forward, Cad leaned against the ship and popped a toothpick between his teeth. He expected to be here a while as the kid grew accustomed to the planet. 

But the kid jumped in with two feet. Literally. And then took off like a blaster bolt, running through the fields like a wild lothcat and twice as silent, maneuvered through the grass with practiced efficiency. 

Huh…engineered for stealth…created for war…

The kid chased some unseen varmint for a while before stopping to catch a butterfly in mid-air. As he cupped it in his hands, peeking through the fingers, a frog leapt onto his leg.  The kid gasped, but even that was subdued. He eyed the frog with round, emotional eyes, then lifted his leg to show Cad. 

Created for war…but still just a kid.

The frog disappeared into the kid’s pocket only to leap back out again as soon as the kid’s attention turned to a flock of ducks flying overhead.

“Believe it or not, Cad,” Jango said, arm draped loosely over Cad’s shoulder as they walked through the grass together. “There are some planets in this galaxy that aren’t a kriffing nightmare to live on.”

“Pretty planets can be dangerous too,” Cad mumbled.

“Hey,” Jango stopped in his tracks and made the sulking duros look him in the eye. Human eyes were always too emotional for Cad's liking. Jango's eyes weren't bad to look at though. Still, he scowled stubbornly. “I promised you a quiet place to train you and I meant it. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”

As the kid stood transfixed over a grasshopper crawling along his arm, Cad slung the kid’s rifle over his own shoulder, grabbed a few more bags, and exited the ship. He was halfway to the house when he realized the kid was following him, silent as the grave and his arm still extended giving the grasshopper a proper runway.

“Just goin’ to the house. Go play, kid.”

“I’m not playing,” the kid denied. “I’m here to learn.”

Cad sneered. “Like a good little soldier, huh?”

“I’m not just a soldier. I’m an elite-”

“Just be a kriffin’ kid today, okay?”

The kid’s neutral expression melted into something teetering on panic. He looked around again as if searching for something or someone to explain “playing” to him.

Made for war...

“How about this,” Cad sighed. “Do some recon. Get familiar with the territory. The perimeter extends to the barbed wire fence and the border of the lake. Report back when yer done.”

Seemingly satisfied with this “mission” he nodded and bounded off, the grasshopper flying behind him. 

Fuck you, Jango, for givin’ just one special little Boba a childhood and leavin’ the rest behind.

Cad headed to the house and hoped Todo 360 had ordered the extra carrots for the nerf stew.

***

Cad remembered being disappointed when he first arrived at the hideout. 

The word “hideout” made him think of a beaten up shack filled with illegal artillery, chests full of credits, and a bunch of mean-looking mercs he’d be glad to have on his side.

But this hideout was a farmhouse. A quaint home perched on a hill overlooking the wheat fields. Over the front door was a wooden sign with hand carved, flowery aurebesh reading: “The Stars Shine on This Home”. Rocking chairs moved with the cool breeze on the porch. Cheerful tulips welcomed bees in the front garden. Inside the house, there were floral quilts on the plush couches and horseshoes over every doorway. There was a ubiquitous scent of cinnamon and aged wood. 

“Doesn’t look like much of a hideout,” Cad sulked, eyeing the pie cooling on the windowsill. 

“And you don’t look like much of a mercenary,” Jango sneered, pulling out two plates and a pie server. “Looks can be deceiving.”

Three hours later, the kid showed up. Dirt caked his cheeks, burrs stuck to his jumpsuit. There was a scrape on his hand, and a few bugs and a frog peeked out of his pockets.

From the kitchen, Cad slid a heap of carrots into the simmering nerf stew and watched the kid carefully stalk the living room, eyeing everything, but touching nothing. 

Well, almost nothing.

Cad’s wide-brimmed hat hung on the rack near the door.

The kid reached up for it. 

“Take a seat, kid,” Cad said, his tone sharp. “Food’s almost ready.”

The kid snatched his hand back and scurried to the small table in the dining area. He sniffed the daisy bouquet centerpiece and looked shocked to realize it was real.  He put one of the grasshoppers on one of the flowers.  The grasshopper immediately hopped away.

Cad set the bowl of hearty nerf stew in front of the kid and brushed the grasshopper onto the floor. “Eat up. It’s tastier than those shitty protein bars ya got stowed away.”

The kid’s spoon poked experimentally at the stew.

“I like the protein bars,” he said, watching the hearty chunks of nerf bobbing in the sienna broth.

He took a bite of just broth at first, his face remaining neutral, but his brow rose a little lighter.

The second bite was a little more adventurous with a piece of nerf added to it.

The third bite was all carrots…

…and the kid immediately spat them out in his napkin, wrinkling his nose.

Cad nearly snickered.

Under any normal circumstance he would’ve found it funny.

But the disappointment hit his gut like a cheap shot.

It was just carrots.  What would he care if the kid hated carrots and Jango ate them like candy?

Because this ain’t about carrots. If these clones ain’t like Jango, then they got free will, don’t they?

And if they got free will…

…what happens if they decide they don’t wanna be soldiers?

Questions far above his pay grade, but like Jango always said: “The day you stop asking questions is the day They win.”

Is that what you did, Jango? Cad wondered, bringing his own bowl of stew to the table. Did ya just stop askin’ questions?

Halfway through the quiet meal, Cad realized the kid was staring at him.

“Somethin’ on yer mind, kid?” He asked, not looking up.

The kid silently picked another carrot off his spoon and added it to the orange pile on his napkin. 

“I asked ya a question.”

“I didn’t find any Fabool,” the kid murmured.

“Didja know where to look?”

“No.”

Cad raised his brow ridge. “Didja ask where they were?”

The kid shook his head.

“So? Ask me.”

“Where are they?”

“Behind the house. Finish your stew and I’ll show y-”

The kid dropped his spoon, grabbed the bowl and, in record time, gulped down the rest of the stew, chewing the last bits noisily and spitting out a final piece of carrot.

“Ready.” he said, deadpan, though his eyes sparkled as bright as Jango’s whenever Cad handed him a Starsbar.

Need Todo to order more Starsbar, Cad reminded himself. Just in case.

***

Behind the house was a square, quarter acre of land, sectioned off with a two meter high fence covered in thick brown wool. From the outside, it just looked like an extra storage shed, but as Cad and the kid drew nearer, it was evident something was moving around inside the enclosure.  

The kid pressed his face against the fabric barrier trying to see through it without any luck. The Fabools snuffled inquisitively on the other side.

“Whats with the blankets?” 

Huh…first question I didn’t have to pry outta him, Cad mused. 

“Fabools are about as sensitive as they are stupid. In the wild they’re liable to get stuck on thorn bushes n' deflate, makin' 'em easy pickin's for predators. The goal is to keep ‘em safe n’ happy in here so they produce more eggs."

"Eggs?"

"These eggs ain't for eatin'. Not for us anyway. They fetch a pretty price on the black market since the egg whites got hallucinatory properties to 'em.” He unlocked the door but held it closed, his eyes narrowing at the kid. “Walk carefully n’ don’t bring anythin’ sharp in here. You deflate ‘em, I deflate you, got it?”

“Okay,” the kid said, with enough earnestness to ease Cad's mind. "Wait," he added suddenly, pulling out a small vibroblade from his boot, and stuck it in the ground outside the enclosure. "Okay, ready."

“Good kid,” Cad nodded.

The kid immediately looked away, but not before Cad noted the faintest trace of a smile in his cheeks. 

Soon as the gate opened, the kid slipped through it and was immediately overwhelmed, disappearing beneath a bouncing avalanche of furry Fabools.

Fabools were balloon-like creatures in every way imaginable, perfectly round, airy and gentle, and navigated the world through bouncing and floating with vague intent on their destination. Short gray fur covered their bodies, and their two webbed feet may have once been used for swimming eons ago, but that evolutionary branch had long since broken off. Their flippers remained as an imperfect guidance system, and Fabools tended to flap out of sheer excitement than for propulsion.

While they didn't exactly have heads, their face was located flush against the upper hemisphere of their round form, a tiny upturned mouth sandwiched between two, round black eyes which blinked adoringly at the kid.  

The kid sank into the grass in wide-eyed wonderment, opening his arms to gently hug however many Fabools he could while the rest rolled and bounced all around him.

Cad couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard the kid hiss out a small, brief laugh.

“What the fuck, Jango?” Cad growled, backing up as the creatures bounced closer and closer. “Get ‘em away from me.”

“They’re harmless.”

“Then why’re they chasin’ me?” He climbed up the fence, the little monsters hopping in the air obviously trying to bite him.

“They don’t even have teeth. I promise you, they're not dangerous, just curious. Trust me.”

"Trust me..."

Something clicked in Cad’s mind.

…Well shit. Now I know why Jango asked me to train this kid. Snipin’ isn’t this kid’s problem. Trust is.

Not trust in other people. This kid seemed to have an abundance of blind trust for authority figures…something Cad would train out of him in a heartbeat if he wasn’t getting paid for this job. 

The thing is, the kid had trust for everyone outside of himself. 

That’s why he shoots so slow. That’s why he’s so damn hesitant to speak his mind. He’s got that spark in him, but Jango hired me for one specific reason: I got trust for no one but myself. 

“They’re so…helpless,” The kid said, watching one of the males roll by, webbed feet kicking uselessly in the air. The kid gave him a little push to help him to his feet.

So are you, kid, Cad thought, popping a toothpick in his mouth. But don’t worry. We’re gonna fix that. You may hate me afterwards…

…but either way you’ll be stronger for it, and I’ll get paid either way.

[writing-oof]

what am i if not a dog - Richas (8)

(or: the E.G.G.s have superpowers. this, surprisingly, is only the beginning of El's problems.) (or: or: El Quackity gets rehabilitated like a rabid dog, Quackity yoinks his evil little brother, and A1 is safe and sound at the end of things)

TW: danger, hypersomnia (kind of), nightmares mentioned, anxiety

Richarlyson is surprisingly good at tag.

He didn't know if he would be since he's not a very fast runner, especially since his prosthetic has started to click and crunch when he bends the knee wrong, but he's very good at jumping out of the way just in time. He's an egg of near misses, and by the time Cellbit and Roier have stopped whispering while they watch the eggs scurry around, Richas is the only egg who hasn't actually been tagged.

Unfortunately, Richarlyson knows what it means to be the only egg to avoid failure, and he braces himself for what comes next.

He's won the game, gotten too good at being the best, and now his siblings are going to gut him like a fish. Even Pomme, who usually doesn't get very upset with him even when he tripped with his sword and ruined her hat once, is glaring at him.

He has ten seconds before they swarm him, and he shoots off like a bullet, speeding as quickly as he can without falling flat on his face. Behind him, he can hear the 'it' spreading between them like the plague.

He's a survivor with a whole horde of zombies behind him, and it's really just a matter of when he dies and not if. He can't run too far away, or his pai Cellbit will make a face and ground him to sitting next to him and Roier on the bench.

Richas knows he means it, too, since Tallulah had to sit on the bench for half an hour for wandering off a bit even though it wasn't on purpose. Usually, the adults wouldn't care so much, but whatever's happening has made them more careful for all of the eggs.

Still, Richarlyson swerves between the trees, the horde moving behind him quickly.

His feet--or foot, really--slam into the ground as he runs as quick as he can through the trees, jumping over tree roots and going around prickly bushes. He jumps really high over a tree root and lands funny, his prosthetic crunching loudly beneath him as he curses everything.

If he fails now, he's going to die, eaten by his crazy zombie siblings.

He makes a wide turn to keep far away from a burr bush and feels the ground disappear beneath his feet, suddenly looking down to a steep and long drop, sharp jagged rocks lining the bottom.

Suddenly, that dying seems a lot less pretend, and Richas wishes he'd just let them tag him.

The air rushes past him and he feels stuck frozen as he starts to drop. A hand snags the back of his hood, tugging him up until another arm wraps around his middle and hoists him up against a warm chest.

"Richas!" Forever scolds, "You're running like a crazy person! Do you want to fall?"

Richarlyson blinks. He looks down at the bottom of the fall that would have probably broken his legs. He blinks again. It takes too long for him to wake up from the shock, and the tiredness he's been running against for weeks now seems to come back in full swing as he finally slumps and shakes his head.

'We were playing tag,' he tells his pai with slow signs, pulling back enough that Forever can see his hands, 'Final Elimination.'

"Ahh," Forever says understandingly. Richas squirms a little, but Forever just adjusts his grip, walking right back to the place Richas had just been running from. Fortunately, Forever's arrival must be much more exciting than defeating Richas because his siblings don't even bother to tag him when the group rushes over excitedly in a swarm.

"Forever!" Roier calls, seeming confused but not upset, "What are you doing here? I thought you were with Bad?"

Forever winces, making the kind of face the adults have been trying to hide from the eggs, and Cellbit furrows his eyebrows.

"Richas, all of you go play over there," he says, pointing to a spot they'd already given up on because of the lack of good fighting sticks.

Forever deposits Richas back on the ground and Chayanne has to grab onto his elbow to keep him from tipping onto the grass when he wobbles, his prosthetic crunching again.

'You okay?' Chayanne asks.

Richarlyson nods, heading over to the patch of clearing they've been directed to, wishing he could take a million naps instead. He would sleep on the dirt if he weren't so worried about Romero Richas causing more trouble.

Still, Richarlyson just wants to go to sleep.

---

Chayanne calls the Council of Eggs to order.

They sit on the dirt almost shoulder-to-shoulder with each other in their usual circle, and they're careful to keep their signs closer to their chests in case any of their parents--or anyone else--tries to listen.

There's an empty spot they have to scoot closer together to fill, right between Ramón and Leo.

Richas tries not to think about it.

'Something's happening,' Chayanne says, meeting each Egg in the eye so they can tell how serious he's being, 'Something even crazier than what's happening now.'

'They've been planning more,' Leo agrees, eyeing the three nervously chattering adults skeptically.

'Whatever it is, it's going to happen soon,' Chayanne says. 'We have to be ready.'

Will they be? They don't even know what's going to happen, or really what's happening now. How are they supposed to be ready for a monster they can't even see yet?

After a moment, Pomme speaks up, extra careful to keep her signs hidden.

'I heard they're going to attack the Federation,' Pomme explains with quick flitting things that are hard to read on purpose. Richas has to squint for a minute, making some of the motions with his own hands tucked to his chest until he understands.

He knows the other eggs can tell something's wrong, but he hopes they just think he's only his usual kind of tired.

'Maybe they'll find tío Quackity,' Tallulah says hopefully. Richas doesn't know how he feels about that.

Leo raises an eyebrow and signs, 'But then what will we do with El?'

'Why would we do anything?' Chayanne asks, scowling a bit, 'He's a jerk.'

'He saved my life!' Pomme says, 'He's…just confused I think.'

Chayanne makes a skeptical face, one Richas definitely relates to, but just signs, 'Okay.'

'About El,' Leo says, a funny look to their eyes, 'what do you think he is? I heard my dad talking to Bad about it, and they don't know either.'

'Maybe he's a clone,' Ramón offers and Tallulah nods eagerly.

'Probably!' she says, 'That's why he looks just like Quackity.'

'I think he's a monster,' Chayanne signs grumpily, but he looks like he wants to take it back when he sees Pomme's face fall. 'Sorry,' he says instead, probably because he meant it.

Pomme waves him off. 'It's fine.'

'Maybe he's an egg,' Richas jokes, cracking the tension with his expertly crafted pickaxe of comedy, and Tallulah snickers. Leo levels him with an unimpressed look, but Pomme seems to find it funny too so he doesn't mind.

'No way!' she denies, stifling giggles, 'He doesn't have any powers! He can't be an egg!'

Richas pretends to be put out, sighing. 'Yeah, maybe not.'

'It'd be cool if he was, though,' Tallulah muses once the laughing's died down, but even Richas thinks that maybe would be a little too crazy.

'You'd want to be related to that jerk?' Leo asks.

Again, Pomme points out, 'He isn't a jerk! He saved my life! He didn't have to, but he did!'

Leo makes a face, but gives in when Chayanne pokes her in the side, smacking his hand. 'I guess.'

The conversation changes to something else and Richarlyson finds himself watching Chayanne's hands as they move, his signs feeling far away even though they're all right next to each other.

He only watches for a little while, his brain feeling foggy and slow, before Leo demands his attention.

A finger pokes into his side and he turns to Leo. He stares at them, waiting for something, and they stare back at him with a weird look on their face.

'Are you okay?' Leo asks, almost suddenly, still staring at Richarlyson.

Richas blinks, waiting for him to explain why he asked. Of course Richas is okay.

'You look sick,' Leo finally signs and Richarlyson recoils, Dapper still fresh on everyone's mind.

'I'm not sick!' he says, signing quicker than before, but his fingers stumble with every other word, 'I'm just tired. I'm…very tired.'

'Did you sleep?' Ramón asks and Richas wobbles his hand. 'A little.'

He peeks to make sure none of the adults are looking and admits, 'I've been having more nightmares.'

Pomme shudders. 'So has everyone, I think.'

'More Romero Richas?' Leo asks and Richarlyson nods, a yawn finally breaking free.

He knows Romero Richas is part of his power, or at least everyone thinks it is, but no one knows what his power really is. He doesn't remember the nightmares or the diary, or the weird-looking egg that keeps showing up in all of his new paintings. He doesn't want to risk anything if his power could be something dangerous, and he definitely doesn't want his parents to look at him worriedly like they do when they find him and his burning paintings.

Normally, he's not as worried about Romero Richas, but everyone's worried about everything right now and it's hard not to do it too.

'I don't like it,' he admits.

'You'll get sick if you don't sleep,' Leo points out, but Richas shakes his head adamantly.

'What if when you start having a nightmare, I'll play my flute in your ear until you wake up?' Tallulah asks.

That's really a good idea. Richarlyson yawns again, finally nodding and lying down on the grass until Chayanne pulls him over to rest his head on his lap like a pillow.

It takes a minute, but the others start signing together and he just listens to the world around them with his eyes closed. Leo drapes her jacket over him like a blanket and, when he starts to get restless, Ramón lets him hold his hand.

Richarlyson is out like a light after that.

---

Part 8 of ? First Previous Next

[fountainpenguin]

"He's always running with no one to keep warm. It's like he's flirting with the smoke alarm..." (x)

---

New Criminal Experience chapter today!

Chapter 7 - “Freed”

❤️ Read on AO3

💙 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

Mumbo hatches an allay egg. Is that in a wandering trader's job description?

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Several minutes later…

Egg hatching is a slow, ugly process. It's all kicks and little throbbing membranes visible through the shell. It takes an account creation to spawn a hybrid (and that's a whole theology in itself). Between has 100 dragons (or rather… 99; 98), and it can take days or weeks for an egg to have its turn. The rarer species may not hatch for months- Like the allay eggs. Mumbo kept them in Little Sun, awaiting Doc's green light to bring them to their new home.

The Allay Dragon was still alive last time he went to Crystal Cove. Mumbo holds the egg in both hands (mostly in his lap) as the baby inside pauses for energy. The rough wall behind him presses cold and hard against his head. Each individual block bears against skin. Is it comfortable? No. But is it safe here? … Nah, likely not. Carrie's patrol members could stumble across him at any time. And who knows if there's an enderman on the floor below, studying the ceiling tiles and readying themself to grief the block of their choice? Oh, this could go so badly.

If the allay's a hybrid, then somewhere in the multiverse, this newbie already exists in a form (on some secret little pocket server, dragged beneath Between as though by squid tentacles) that walks and builds and plays.

New accounts draw energy directly from the player who created them, but only on a server. Only while actively engaged. When that borrowed energy withdraws, the new player is left wobbly-legged and bleary. That's when their world fades out around them. They wake here in Between, swaddled in an egg. Born of a dragon. Part human in creation, blessed with lore, concept, and culture from the outside world. Part mob-themed dragon, blessed with a vessel to carry them through life even without a player's aid. Born of milk. Raised in love.

"Shh, yeah, look at you," Mumbo whispers, brushing his thumb across one cracked piece still clinging on. It's like a rose petal in his hand. The membrane pulses underneath. Is that a wing? Yeah, that might be a wing. That can't be right. It would've had to turn over. Maybe it's a foot.

"Not a first-timer," Vee muses, still washing things in the tub. What- Because he's not losing his mind? He'd laugh if he weren't shaking. Yes, well… even amidst new life, there are chores to be done. It's a lot of work, holding a baby and keeping still.

"You neither, yeah? Didn't you sit with ravager eggs 'til one hatched a mob?"

"Yeah, that's how my tribe's always done it. Some try to tame the wild ones that roam the emerald savanna, though."

"Oh, I don't fancy that."

"BigB and I picked ours out together," she murmurs, and leans her head in closer. Mumbo watches her eyes flick across the cracking egg in his hands. He's never felt her breath dance and swirl like this. They've never been this close. Vee lays a hand against his rolled-up sleeve. "Did it stay warm, you think?"

Stay warm. Now, that's the hardest chore of all. Mumbo doesn't answer, tightening his arms around the living, breathing egg. Funny… It even feels more alive now that it's been sparked with life. Are his sleeves enough? Is HE enough? He doesn't have the serpentine body of his mother, with her golden scales and spiky gemstone wings. Mum can wrap many, many times around many, many eggs in her nest of maple twigs and leaves. Wandering traders hatch from dark blue eggs flecked with gold. The allay in his arms is not the first one he's ever seen crack before reaching its final destination.

His earliest days are blurry ones. In Between, his eyes were darkened with lens caps, his body weak and skinless as he suckled and learned to build his own strength. Walking's easy, you know, when you're fed energy from the outside world. With a player in control, you can sprint like the wind, leap with deer, and skid sideways by the rivers whipping down the hills. But walking takes time (speaking takes time; opening your eyes takes time). Dragon milk's the key to surviving your early days. Milk is energy and energy is life.

I hope the allays get by okay on the substitutes I have.

… Ah. Those went over the cliff with Buzz, didn't they?

I wish my mum were here. I expect the Ender Dragon will tense if she sees me getting close. Dragons view wandering traders as neutral creatures; at least, that's what his mentors taught. In fact, that's the whole reason he stood before Impulse when the Firefly Dragon arrowed through the swamp to snuff at them. But meandering through a dragon's territory without upsetting her is one thing, and sneaking close enough to steal their milk is quite another. My own mother won't let me touch her belly gems.

Gah. Hatching is ugly even when babies are sweet little things. And carting them across Between feels like charging across a volcanic coast biome filled with magma blocks and hot sand, even when passing eggs to grateful new parents is the most rosy feeling in the world. Yet despite the danger, you play your role over and over, because it's in your code and it's beautiful. The urge and the journey and the game.

Mumbo stares at the damp, glowing membrane that kicks beneath the shell. Is the baby allay doing all right? While there's no such thing as an egg turning out a "dud" - there are new accounts created every day, after all, and life will spark in a valid egg eventually - a few conditions must be met for an egg to hatch a hybrid instead of a mob. It must be unbroken. It must not be abandoned in an unloaded chunk for more than moments. When hatching time arrives, it needs to have enough headroom. They can't be in your inventory.

And it must be kept warm.

Vee's still waiting for an answer to that question. Are they warm; are they safe; are we raising simple mobs or children who'll be like us someday? He kept the eggs bundled in his satchel. Carrie sort of had them wrapped in the llama blankets. That might have been enough to stave off the chill of permafrost and wind.

But this past hour hasn't been exactly kind to the eggs, so Mumbo draws unsteady breath. "I don't know. We've been running about. I don't know."

If a mob hatches from the egg, the account meant to sync up to this one will take whatever else it can. Maybe not its first choice of species, but there are other options. If you like allay culture, you might try life as a rascal hybrid- They're classed as fey and just as rare. You still get to gather things and hand out gifts. Or if the size and wings were to your taste, vex are an allay's nearest neighbor (biologically speaking). Heck, plenty of allay get turned into vex before long. It's like that for villagers, too; some become zombies, others witches. There's an old rumor that if you're bitten by a llama on a full moon night, you'll wake up a wandering trader, but that can't possibly be true.

"… Maybe it would be for the best," is Vee's tactical reply. What? If the allays are born mobs? Mumbo flickers his eyes to her. She doesn't look at him, rubbing fabric on fabric to peel off a dirt stain. And she's probably right. She's got keen instincts. They keep her alive.

With the soul spawner out of the equation, a newborn allay hybrid is doomed to a life in Between without taking risks. Avoiding danger. Certain biomes. Certain play. Of course, a slain mob won't respawn either, but at least it's… less aware of everything. Itself. The world.

That its mother's dead.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[ardenssolis]

@caemthe said (inbox):

[ cyberpunk ] While the gang boss would've loved to sleep until noon, Conall got up and left the warmth of the bed of his lover to go make breakfast for the two of them. But, once he reached the kitchen, he realized he had forgotten to ask his sleeping beauty how they wanted their eggs. He was about to talk when he returned to the bedroom but it was then that he noticed… Ramses was nuzzling his pillow… Cute. With careful, silent steps, he approached his oblivious lover until he reached the bed and leaned down to whisper close to their ear: "Missed me that much, little sun?" But he had no intention of letting them hide or slip away so he placed part of his weight on them and kissed their shoulder as one hand slithered up to interlock with his partner's. Nowhere to escape now, not letting them hide anywhere now. "You're incredibly dangerous for the heart, makes me want to keep you all to myself, you know that, right?"

      THE NUMBER OF INDIVIDUALS that the Fixer trusted could be counted on one hand. He was elusive, careful, and most of all, could blend into the crowd as just another Corpo one might see in the Corporate Plaza going about their business, buying expensive things that most of the city would never be able to afford. Very rarely did he ever allow himself any close relationship with anyone else save for purely physical, and even then, he was still ever so careful. How in the world did Conall worm his way into his heart was a mystery that he mulled over many times, yet still never found any concrete answers. The shifting he felt on the bed pulled him from his slumber, eyes half-lidded and mind still lost in that groggy haze that blanketed so many minds upon awakening. He registered that Conall had left, but just barely. Groaning a little, he moved over to the other’s side, absorbing what heat was left upon those sheets and nuzzling his face into the other’s pillow. It was comforting. Safe. All the things that he had quietly hungered for in his life where one had to constantly mull over another’s motives.

      Emotions like this would always be manipulated. He had learned that early. That was why it was better to show only what you wanted to show, act only the way you wanted others to see…and then guard everything else that made you, you. Eyes closing once more, he would have easily drifted off again if not for the fact that the whisper in his ear tugged him away from Sleep’s embrace once again. ❝What…?❞ Blinking a couple of times, it was then that he realized just what he had done. Thoroughly embarrassed, Ramses attempted to scoot back over to where he had been resting, a quick retort at the ready to be spoken; however, his lover was having none of it. ❝Ugh, Conall…❞ The complaint was there in that simple statement, Ramses squirming a little beneath the other before he sighed and realized that was a bit pointless. ❝I just – I just moved over here because it was warm. Do not look too into it.❞ Hoping his face was not seen, he scowled, only burying it a little more. ❝Were you not leaving? Get going already--❞

      Maybe he’d pretend to go back to sleep.

[sparkypantaloons]

Silent Song

Left for Dead - @badthingshappenbingo

Bruce had been cursed and it was a dark thing. One that threatened his children, his family.

It wasn't the first time they'd been used against him, surely wouldn't be the last. But this time was different. Bruce had been spooked. Begged them all return to the Manor, where he could be sure they were safe.

Batman goes to destroy the curse. He never comes back. His family have to deal with the consequences.

~

Jason is in the garden. He prefers it to the stifling air of the Manor. Prefers the manual labour to the endless strategising and planning and calculating.

He's turning the soil. Breaking up the dry, solid earth beneath him at a slow and steady pace. The bell peppers and tomatoes are almost done for the summer. Only a handful of fruits remain, slowly growing fatter on the last few plants left. Jason is thorough with the tilling. Next year’s crops will need planting soon.

His hands are calloused, his skin a deep tan. From days, years, spent in the grounds. Walking the boundaries, or ploughing the earth, dozing in his favourite spot beneath the apple trees. The faint buzz of insects and what little is left of the bird song in his ear; the distant rumble of Gotham silent after so long.

Tim says they miss his insight at the meetings, but it's been some twenty years now and Jason's long since accepted that this is their fate. Has made peace that the Manor and its gardens are their home, now and forever more. That the terrace and the pool, the folly and the summer house, the woodland and the pond and the rolling meadow at the back of the Wayne Estate are all he will ever see again.

Tim still talks of Bruce's return. Still expects it, with every tick of the clock, every rise of the sun and fading of the stars. Still expects their father to come home and set them free and make them whole all at once. As though the last two decades were just a dream.

Jason isn't so naive. And he doesn't have the energy for Tim’s relentless optimism. Instead he grows the food, tends to the vegetable beds and the orchard. He feeds the chickens, collects the eggs. Prunes the roses and mows the lawn. Works at keeping his family, Bruce's family, alive.

It’s easier now, to think of the man as what he was. Because Bruce was Jason’s father, for all his faults. It’s easier now to love him, knowing that loving him is all that Jason has left of him.

The spell had been cast on a Tuesday. Jason had been in The Bowery at the time. At a piano lesson of all things, half way through his warm-up scales and pointedly ignoring Bruce’s texts and calls and hails over the emergency comm. It was all or nothing with Bruce. Never just a casual chat or check in, to see how his son was doing. Always something Batman wanted an immediate answer for. Jason wasn’t interested in the latter. Pretended not to need the former. Then Superman had burst through the door and dragged him into the sky.

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(Make sure you check the tags on Ao3, it gets dark)