#let’s hold hands and dance a jig together

[spineless-lobster]

If I was a bee and you were a bee and we were both bees I’d do a little bee dance to show how much I love you

[hollisxwrites]

Hiii!!! I was wondering if you could do a Percy x Reader, where it’s a friends to lovers kind of thing, they have kind of a childish relationship, and they confess their feelings towards each other when Percy gets a bit jealous of the reader and Grover being close? If not that’s 100% okay! And either way I hope you have a good day or night xx🤍

our goat man friend did the underwater jig

percy jackson x fem reader

word count: 1.6k maybe?

authors note: GUYS. i love you all. thank you for supporting me and my work, I have 3k notes now, and 70 followers. i owe this all to you, and i am so proud of the work that i have done so far. i think this is the most unserious fic i have written; i wrote this at one am, but i think it's cute and fluffy and silly. i hope you guys enjoy my dancing goat man that i love so much! also, so sorry if this is not exactly what you were looking for, anon, i just kind of took a silly idea and ran with it lol.

warnings: jealous percy!, curse words, a fish, this is so silly.

Percy Jackson was my best friend in the entire world, but he was also someone that I love more than my life itself. Ever since we met one faithful day in June, my first day of so-called summer camp, we became inseparable. The son of Poseidon was beautiful, to say the least, and he was endearing. Everyone in Camp loved him, which made everyone in Camp love me, as we were pretty much joined at the hip. Starting when we were thirteen, we would spend the night in his cabin together since we were both plagued by vivid nightmares that left us both restless. It started off as just sharing his cabin, but then it came to sharing a bed, and eventually, us holding each other for maximum nightmare prevention. We also trained together, more and more often the older we got, and we even broke the rules and ate every meal with each other. The young campers, once we turned seventeen and were seen as the ‘cool, older campers’ thought we were dating, and one of them went as far to say that we were married. I could see where someone young would assume that, but none of the older campers said anything…to our faces. I heard the rumors, but I chose to ignore them, Percy and I were just friends. We teased each other, of course, and made sex jokes to each other all of the time, but we were just friends, sadly.

I was in love with the Percy Jackson. He was everything I could ever want, but I blocked out my feeling in order to salvage our friendship that I held so dear. That didn’t stop me, however, from thinking about kissing him every time we laid in his bed together, every time his hand brushed against mine, and every time we spared, and he pinned me to the ground. We spent every single day together, and so, of course, his friends became my friends, and that includes his best friend, Grover.

Though Percy was always going to be my best friend, my home, I was quite the sociable person, and so I enjoyed spending time with everyone. Grover was hilarious, in a quiet way, and he kept me on my toes and my wit in tip top shape. I slowly began to start spending almost as much time with Grover as I did Percy, and nine times out of ten, Percy would tag along, making us a happy little trio that most definitely got along. This specific day, we were spending time at Percy’s favorite place on the Campgrounds, the lake.

I was chasing after Grover and Percy who had taken off spiriting through the woods after they heard some rustling in the trees that they thought was a monster, or even worse, Clarisse, but it just ended up being a cute little bunny. “Guys!” I panted out. “Wait up, please!”

Percy looked behind himself and at me. He gave me one of his award-winning smirks and said, “just run faster, bitch!”

Grover snorted rather unattractively at that, but the joke didn’t stop him from slowing his pace to let me catch up to him. “Don’t want you to get lost.” Grover winked, making me laugh at his comedic gesture.

“Stop flirting and hurry up, don’t want anyone to have the same idea as us!” Percy, from about thirty feet away, yelled, a sour tone in his voice.

“Ew, we are not flirting, Perc!” I yelled back, in an equally disgusted tone.

Grover rolled his eyes at both of us and lowered his voice just to address me. “When are you going to tell him, girl?” He massaged his temples. “He is goo-goo eyed for you.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Never. I love him, but he doesn’t love me like that.”

Grover nearly groaned in annoyance. “{Reader}, I’m saying this because I am your friend, but you are acting like a dumbass. I have told you he loves you, and you love him, and why don’t you just act on it?”

Grover had been my wingman this entire time, encouraging me to grow some balls and ask the man of my dreams out. It all started this one time where, on a dare, someone asked Percy to kiss me, and he obliged without any protest. Putting two and two together, Grover decided that I liked Percy, and he liked me, and so we needed to date. That was three years ago. Nothing anywhere close to that, except this one time he kissed me on the cheek because…that’s beside the point.

“I will, Grover. I just don’t want to…”

My thought was cut off by us approaching the clearing where the man of the hour, the beautiful, Perseus Jackson stood, his arms crossed, and cheeks flushed from overexertion. “Took you guys soon enough! Let’s swim!”

Percy tossed his orange t-shirt aside and it took everything in my power not to stare. He was just too stunning. I followed suit, pulling off my athletic shorts and matching orange Camp shirt to reveal a deep blue swimsuit that I think showed off figure that I had acquired from training.

I dove in the water after Percy, and he scooped me into his freckled arms. “I like the swimsuit.” He said with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Thank you, Perc.” I said, my face flushed, but I pretended it was from the bright sun that was baking us.

Our moment was interrupted by Grover cannonballing right into the middle of our little bubble of unconfessed feelings, sending a tidal wave of water over Percy and I.

I wiped the water from my eyes when all of the sudden, Percy pushed me under the water. In the moment, I started to panic, a little bit, because I couldn’t breathe, but all of the sudden, I could. Percy was protecting me. My initial thought was, poor Grover, we’re abandoning him, but then my second thought was, holy shit, I’m underwater alone, in a bubble, with Percy fucking Jackson.

Percy smiled at me and hurried me along when we were finally able to touch the floor of the lake. I could see Grovers little goat feet treading water from above us, and it made both me and Percy giggle a little bit. Percy finally stopped pushing me along in his little bubble when we reached a beautiful cove of water lilies. I smiled at the boy in front of me, and he smiled back, a little awkwardly.

“Soooo…{Reader}.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. I giggled awkwardly. “Percy.”

“I see you and Grover have gotten…closer.” His eyes were unreadable, and I had no idea where this was going.

“He’s a twenty-something year old goat man who I see as more of a father figure than anything else, Percy. I am a seventeen-year-old demigod who has no father figure in her life. We may have gotten closer, but it’s nothing like that.” I said, a matter-of-fact tone in my voice.

Percy looked embarrassed at this, probably thinking about how he didn’t really think his accusation through. “That’s very true.” His eyes avoided meeting mine, and he seemed suddenly very interested in a fish swimming by me.

“Why do you care?” I asked, genuinely wondering. Percy shrugged at this, not confessing his real reason for dragging to the bottom of a dam lake. “Look at me, Perc, why do you care?”

His eyes finally met mine. “Because you’re mine, and I don’t want someone else to look at you the way I want to.”

I was…flabbergasted…to say the least. I was not expecting that. “Of course, I am yours, but to what extent? We can’t keep dancing around each other, waiting for someone to finally break the tension surrounding us.”

At this, Percy pulled us closer together, our faces inches apart. “This tension?”

My breath faltered. “This exactly.”

Percy let us linger on the feeling of closeness without pressing our lips together. Our eyes met, and our noses nearly touched, but neither of us took the next step. I could feel him breathing, and I was sure he could feel me, and the electric energy of love sparking between that I was sure the fishes around us could feel it. “Kiss me, asshole.” I mumbled against his lips, and his next movement made my head spin.

The kiss was…magical. I was unable to think of anything, not even how to breathe. Percy’s lips were everywhere and nowhere all at once, and my hands found his hair almost by instinct. Before things could get a little too far, both of us looked up and almost had a heart attack. Grover was right above us doing a little jig in the water, holding his nose, trying not to inhale water.

“What the fuck, Grover!” Percy exclaimed, laughing hysterically, his hands still around my waist. Grover floated back up to the surface, probably going back up for air, and Percy and I smiled at each other, laughter seizing our bodies.

We paddled back up to the surface. “Grover, I will slaughter you.” I said, the huge smile on my face telling him that my threat was empty.

“I win a bet! I win a bet!” Grover sang, doing his little jig on the beach now. “I am so glad I do not have to listen to you guys pine over each other anymore!”

I gasped and looked at Percy who froze beside me. “You pined over me?”

“That’s a story for another day.” Percy said, stifling back a laugh.

The rest of the day was bliss, my new boyfriend and annoying, jigging goat friend by my side, making that day a day that I would always remember.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

If you're still taking blurb requests, I'd love to see Bradley's POV in part 6 of Faking It--especially the lead up to their first kiss. Love that fic!!

Aww thank you, darling! Yes, I can certainly share Bradley's perspective leading up to the first kiss. Enjoy <3

5k Weekend Bash Drabbles

Faking It - Bradley's POV Before the Kiss

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

“What does it mean?” Bradley asks after having lost the garter toss to Steven.

“Well,” you say. “Obviously it means that Steven and I are meant to be and that we’ll be getting married and having a bunch of babies.”

“You’re funny,” Bradley replies in an unimpressed tone. Sure, he finds your sarcasm amusing at times, but Steven’s antics have riled him enough that he isn’t in a laughing mood. He moves in closer and wraps an arm around your waist in an admittedly cringeworthy display of possessiveness because he can’t stand the idea of you and Steven together, whether it’s a joke or not. “He’ll have to get past me first,” he mutters in a low voice, hoping his brief lapse in self-control might be taken as yet another demonstration of his supposedly great acting skills.

Of course, when your aunt ushers you onto the dance floor with Steven for the customary dance, Bradley has to bite his tongue – for your sake, mostly. Because you look like you’re about to hurl. But watching Steven put his hands on you, watching him pull you close enough to whisper in your ear, this makes Bradley sick to his stomach. And when he can see that you’re livid, that your ex has obviously said something that’s upset you, he steps out onto the dance floor self-assuredly, absolutely undeterred by the looks he receives from the guests in attendance.

He approaches the two of you and brushes a hand over your back before letting Steven know that he’s essentially dismissed. You glance up at Bradley with a mixture of shock and gratitude, and let him lead you away.

“Bradley,” you whisper when he takes you by the waist. “He knows.”

“Knows what?” Bradley asks, swaying calmly to the music.

“That you’re not my boyfriend. Apparently, we’re not affectionate enough with one another.”

Bradley smirks at you, not at all concerned that this issue would be difficult to remedy. “What are you proposing?”

“I’m not proposing anything! I’m saying, the jig is up and we’re fucked,” you whisper in a panic. “Oh god, he’s talking to my mother. He’s going to tell her!”

Bradley tightens his hold on your waist. “There’s nothing to tell. Don’t let him get to you.”

You glance up at him anxiously and, between the softness of your gaze and the proximity of your face, he sort of loses his train of thought for a moment.

When you blink away, your eyes scanning the room uneasily as though you’re positive that nobody believes the two of you could possibly be together, he says, with a bit of a croak, “You know, there is a way we can be more convincing as a couple.”

You meet his gaze once more, this time even more alarmed than the last. If only you knew that there’s no way anybody would doubt he’s in love with you if you just let him kiss you. Probably not even you.

You don’t respond to his offer, but you do lift your face a miniscule amount; enough for Bradley to know that you’re on the same page. He’s still for a moment, trying to get a handle on the tremor running through him. If this is the moment he kisses you, then this is the moment you’ll know that it’s never been fake. Not for him. And he isn’t sure he’s ready for that kind of unspoken confession.

But he’s moving closer to you without even realizing it. “What do you think?” he mutters, although, at this point, he’s pretty sure you’re game considering you haven’t broken eye contact in about a minute. He touches the tip of your nose with his very subtly, testing the waters.

“Uh,” you utter faintly, the softness of your voice gently pulling him in.

He can’t be certain if he’s still dancing, or if you are, but the music seems to have stopped. Or, more likely, he doesn’t hear it. He’s thinking about the demise of your friendship once this is all over – something that means a great deal to him. Because how could he ever go back to being your friend after –

His lips lightly touch yours. And whether or not it’s all part of the ruse doesn’t really matter anymore. All that matters is that Bradley can’t fathom a more electrifying feeling. And so, he opens his mouth and kisses you.

5k Celly

[girlgroupshots]

DAY 3 - AESPA Giselle

pairing: Giselle x M!Reader summary: Giselle wants to show off her Christmas outfit to you and takes offense to just being called ‘cute’. word count: 776 consider buying me a coffee if you enjoy!

“Well? How do I look?” 

Giselle did a small spin, twirling in place to show off her Christmas outfit to your gaze. It was a cute outfit with just a tinge of teasing appeal. A red satin Santa dress with white, fluffy frills decorating the top. It left her shoulders bare and stop just enough at her mid-thigh to leave it open for debate whether it was too-revealing or not revealing enough. She looked perfect. Though, given how attracted you were to your girlfriend, you might’ve been a little bias in that regard. 

“You look cute, baby” You respond.

Apparently, it wasn’t what she wanted to hear though as a pout quickly formed on the multi-lingual artist’s lips. She crossed her arms, side-eying you for a moment. 

“Just cute? Is that all? Any…other words come to mind?”

You immediately had an inkling what this was about. On more than a few occasions Giselle had vented to your her frustrations that everyone only seemed to think Jimin and Minjeong had any sex appeal. The idea that all she had to offer was being cute and wholesome only seemed to be getting under her skin lately. Which, naturally, gave you a wicked idea.

“Yeah?” You feigned ignorance, “What else would there be?”

Your bluff could have gone terribly wrong, particularly if she decided to storm off. But instead a determined look crossed her features. The urge to tell her that she looked adorable in that moment was strong but you resisted it. That might actually be pushing your luck a bit too much. Giselle stayed silent for a moment longer before her expression softened, turning into something more sensual. She leaned forward, extended her arms and squeezing them together so your breast seemed bigger; pushing her cleavage out of the red dress.

“So you can’t think of anything?”. 

Fuck. She wasn’t making this easy.

“Nope…I just see my cute girlfriend.” 

You barely got your sentence at before she went into action. You gave a shout as her hands suddenly pushed against your chest, causing you to fall backwards into a chair.

“Aeri?!” 

“You keep saying that but what does your body say?” 

You looked up to see the singer, staring down at you hands on her hips. She grabbed the back of the chair, raising a leg to partially straddle your lap. She performed a body roll, pressing against you before pulling away. Giselle gave you a sultry look before turning and bending over, the hem of her dress riding up to reveal her ass. More than that, it revealed the red silk thong she was wearing underneath. All you could do was swallow thickly. 

Fuck me, you thought. When did she buy those?

“Still think it’s just cute?” she teased you, looking up from where she was touching her toes. 

Giselle didn’t wait for you to respond, instead she was straightening and moving back to sitting in your lap. Her ass was pressed into your groin while her back arched as she reached behind her to hold your neck. Slowly she began to grind in your lap, all those hours of dance practice paying off in ways you could have never imagined. Giselle tilted her head back kissing your cheek as she continued to tempt you. It was working too. No matter how much you teased her with your words, there was no denying the stiffening erection in your pants. 

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” you muttered. 

“No, just trying to get you to admit the truth,” she reached for your hands, placing one on her hip and the other atop her breast. “Unless you still just think I’m cute…”

“Does it feel like I just think you’re cute?” 

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she ground her hips hard against your erection, “It’s hard to tell…”

“Then let me make it clear” you moaned as she continued her ministrations. The jig was up, there was no point in holding back your passions now. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t bear it. I’m going to ravish every inch of you in that outfit and when we’re done I’m going to take it off and do it again.”

The immediate aftermath of your declaration was silence. Giselle’s movements had froze and a harsh crimson colored her cheeks as she looked at you with a shocked gaze. This was far closer to the girl you knew. Taking the initiative you wrapped your arms around her and picked her up. Giselle let out a delighted squeal as you carried her towards the bedroom. 

“Wait, I really can’t ruin this outfit though!” 

“You should’ve thought of that beforehand!”

[reneeluv154]

Dance

Hi! I hope you enjoy <3 <3

In this imagine you and Newt dance together. I wasn’t sure if this one was any good so I might do a pt 2, I’m not sure. Depends on the response it get’s.

If you like this imagine I have a few more on my profile.🫶🏼

<3 <3 <3 <3

I sat with my back against the log in front of the fire, watching the glade. The boy’s had far too much to drink tonight and it was quite obvious. “Come on y/n” Minho waved me over trying not to fall while doing what looked like the Irish jig. “I think I’m gonna sit this one out Min.” I chuckled. “Whatever.” He shrugged, bumping into Thomas, spilling the drink in his hand down Thomas’ shirt. “What the shuck man!” Thomas slurred being drunk himself.

Minho slowly backed away while Thomas looked down at his shirt, eventually deciding to just pull it off and throw it to the ground. I could tell he thought he was hot when he winked at me fixing his hair. I choked on my own drink trying to hold back my laugh, “Hey.” I recognized that smooth accent and turned to face Newt who jumped over the log sitting down beside me leaving a little bit of room between us.

“Hi.” I smiled, I love Newt. I love him more than I would like too but a girl can’t help when she’s in love. “I think we might be the only two who aren’t drunk.” He chuckled looking around at the boy’s. “I know right, I've been asked to dance five times now.” I smiled. “Can you blame em? Not everyday they can dance with a beautiful girl like you.” I shook my head letting out a small laugh allowing my hair to hide my blush. “What?” He asked, bumping my shoulder. “Nothin.”

After a few minutes of sitting in comfortable silence I couldn’t help but ask. “Would…you like to dance Newt?” He looked confused and my heart skipped a beat. “You know what, that's such a stupid question. I don’t know what I was thinking.” As I said this he sat down his drink standing to offer me a hand.

“I would love to dance with you Y/n.” I smiled, grabbing his shockingly strong calloused hand not even trying to hide my excitement.

We walked further out the way of the others. Immediately I rested my arms around his neck, his on my waist. I tried looking into his eyes but ended up blushing, hiding my face in his chest. He laughed, pulling me into more of a hug. “You're lovely y/n.” He whispered, still swaying us gently back and forth.

“Woah, what the hell!” It was Thomas. “So you won’t dance with any of us but you’ll dance with Newt?” I looked at them and smiled slightly, my head still against Newt’s chest.

They stormed off pouting, I giggled looking up at Newt. “I think they're sleepy.” Newt nodded, letting go of me and walking back to where we were sitting before. “Speaking of being sleepy, you little missy need to get to bed.” I frowned. “I was having a good time though.” He shook his head while watching the fire. “Go to bed Y/n.”

“Make me.” I giggled running away as he took off after me.

Part 2 is on my profile! <3

[syndxlla]

Some Wholesome Post-Calamity Zelink Thoughts

the pre-calamity thoughts

Link awkwardly offering her his rito garb to wear after the battle concludes. She’s in shock, and needs to wear something more practical than her ceremonial attire. Her other clothes have been destroyed after all these years. He turns the other way as she changes in some ruins. Her dirty hands run along the crumbling stone.

She can’t help but bury her face into his smell, trying desperately not to cry. How different will he be? He still smells the same. He smells of pine and charcoal.

Touch is completely different now, they are both deeply traumatized and absolutely terrified of losing one another again. It’s a hot and cold push and pull type of thing. they constantly want to hold one another and never let go, but are terrified of the other one being afraid of them.

Link still putting his hair up the same way as he did a century ago, his hair tie in between his teeth. Zelda’s heart softens when she notices it.

Zelda laughing for the first time in one hundred years. She cackles at something Link says. It was along the lines of “one hundred years of sleep and you’d think I’d be able to keep my eyes open for longer than an hour” as they travel to Kakariko for the first time since Ganon was destroyed. Her laugh surprises both of them, it’s music to both of their ear’s. But especially Link’s.

Zelda being nervous around the Horses at Dueling Peaks stable, everything is strange to her again. Link speaking softly and gently to both her and the horses, taking her hand and guiding it to pet the velvety nose of the steed. Her sigh of relief.

Both of them wanting to be with the other the way the pined for in their youth, but being too scared to try anything.

Link eventually takes the initiative after they watched the sunset together on the cliff at the Tech Lab in Hateno, the sun painting orange over the ocean. Zelda’s head rests on his shoulder, he takes her hand and loops his fingers with hers. They stay like that till the sun rises the next morning.

Link giving Zelda a gentle forehead kiss one morning when she burns breakfast again. She quietly apologizes as he takes the pot away from her, fixing it.

Link braiding her hair back, letting his fingers linger in her golden hair. He smells the top of her head, closing his eyes. He remembers more when he does, ever since she came back he seems to remember everything all the time.

There are two beds in their home in Hateno, but both of them have nasty nightmares. Zelda is the first one to crawl into his bed with him. They never sleep apart now if they can help it.

Zelda admitting how much Link gets along with the kids in Hateno. Playing games with them, teaching them basic defensive combat, he’s opened so much since she first knew him.

Zelda waking up before him one morning, just looking at his scarred back. Tracing feather-light finger-tips along the new scars.

Link cutting her hair after she has a break down. He tells her something Riju told him: Hair Holds memory. He’s spent the last two years regaining his memories, maybe it was time for both of them to lose some.

The two heading out into Hyrule for the first time, stopping by all the major cities to thank them for their help. To start rebuilding Hyrule. Link walks side by side with her now, their hands typically intertwined.

Their first kiss.

It happened at the outskirt stable on their way to Hebra and Rito Village. Link had a nasty sunburn from the desert. They listened as music played and life danced through the stable. A fiddle and accordion played a folky jig and they couldn’t help but dance to it. Both of them are awful dancers, tumbling all over the other. They laugh and cheer and hold one another and when they make eye contact it happens. It’s so fast and short but felt like second nature. They both wished they had done it early. A century earlier.

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Silmarillion dancing headcanons

I feel like dance is a pretty important part of Elvish culture right? I generally imagine their dancing a little like set dancing but a lot more elaborate and flowing. Like the movements are a bit more natural and they don’t keep their arms at their side like we do in Irish dance. It’s mainly the fast and elaborate footwork that I feel they would really enjoy. They also dance in pairs sometimes and it’s a little more intimate than traditional in set dancing incorporating elements of slow dancing but at a very fast pace. All this to say, I’ve become ridiculous attached to the idea of Maedhros and Fingon causing political uproar by joining in and pairing up for a dance at a big event during the Union of Maedhros. Like it’s meant to be a political statement about unity and they start by clasping hands at shoulder level and following the steps carefully with perfect posture. But not even halfway through Maedhros is lifting Fingon’s feet off the ground by holding his waist as they spin around and they’re just laughing and completely forgetting everything around them. They twirl each other around and follow the steps with their hands on each other’s hips and waists pressed way closer together than necessary. Maedhros is way too focused on the way Fingon’s smile lights up his face and Fingon is entranced by the way the firelight makes Maedhros’ newly grown out hair glint like real flames.

I will also die on the hill that they develop knife dancing at some point during the first age. Like it’s normal fast paced jigging and spinning and then people start hurling knives over each others heads and catching and twirling them. I feel like that’s exactly the sort of reckless needlessly self endangering activity the Noldor would come up with. Maglor and Maedhros probably use this as a training exercise for Elrond and Elros to let them have a bit of fun for once.

This reaches it’s peak around the early second age after the War of Wrath, when everyone is still carrying knives at their belts and reflexes are wired for battle but for once feels like they can properly enjoy themselves in recreation and let go a little. So what I’m saying is that in the early days of Lindon when they didn’t have dignitaries from other cities around to be shocked by it, they wouldn’t have formal parties in ballrooms or anything like that, they’d start a big bonfire somewhere and have this absolutely insane, wild ceilí dance involving a lot of knives. And Elrond absolutely loves it. He’s one of the best, particularly at the dances involving knives (go figure), and he’s sometimes viewed as a slightly more feral version of Luthien. Gil Galad once jokingly said Tinuviel, while they were dancing together and one of the knives Elrond threw to him was aimed rather closer to his head than Elrond would normally allow. Him and Elros try to teach it to some of the Numenoreans once but they all look at them like they’re insane. Imladris has a similar policy of toning it down among visitors but Aragorn does pick it up after growing up there and the fellowship are all pretty appalled when he tries to explain it to them. When he asks Legolas to back him up Legolas says that it is not actually an Elvish thing it’s just an “Elrond was raised feral in the woods by kinslayers” kind of thing.

[elemit]

A Gift, A Curse

A story in which we discover just how damned an ascended vampire can be, and just how far you will go to save the spawn you loved.

Read in full on AO3

dead dove/not beta read

fic warnings: Abuse, Angst, Biting, Blood and Gore, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Food Restriction, Hate Sex, Horror, Mental Coercion, Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Torture, Total Power Exchange, Trauma, Vampire Bites

Chapter 3: Victory

You both agreed it would be prudent to wait until after your fight against the Elder Brain to try to turn you. Astarion’s own transformation was so long ago that he can't clearly remember the side effects, and even if he could, there's no way of knowing if being turned by an ascended vampire would be the same. You both decide it's not worth risking your skills when the outcome of such an important battle hangs in the balance.

“Besides,” you say to him one night, “what's the point of immortality when I'm facing near certain death regardless?”

Your decision to wait doesn't stop him talking about the future, of course. He tells you every day of the wondrous things that the future holds for you both. Sometimes you feel as though he has been distant since his transformation. Sometimes you worry that the cruel streak that has always been there is getting stronger. But he speaks with such passion and love about your entwined destinies, and all the greatness that you will achieve together, all the greatness you can do because you have each other, you find your worries are assuaged. The changes in his behaviour can be explained away by the guilt of the ritual weighing on him, or the stress of trying to save a city, or a dozen other reasons that you will work through together. You will have all the time in the world, after all. It's strange, but even though you know the biggest battle is yet to come, you feel as though you've both finally found your happy endings.

And then, finally, the battle comes. And then, finally, it's all over.

You won.

You don't know how any of you have the energy to walk, let alone dance, but that's what you find yourself doing in the hours after the fight: dancing and drinking in a tavern with giddy abandon in the arms of your allies. You'll mourn those lost along the way in time, but for now the overwhelming sense of joy cannot be denied. You swirl around your friends, linking arms, clasping hands, singing songs and calling out for more drinks before your current cup has even run dry.

You feel Astarion’s eyes on you for every moment of it. 

He has sat himself in an alcove to the side of the room you have taken over for the occasion, half shrouding himself in shadows. He doesn't join in the revelry, even when you beckon him over. He simply raises his glass in a toast to you as you are whisked up in another jig, smirking as if watching you is all the entertainment he needs.

Eventually the raucousness dies down, and you twirl over to him, cheeks flushed and skin glowing from the drink and the dancing. When he looks at you, the desire in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

“I have been waiting for this night for a long time” he says, standing up to kiss you fully. “You look beautiful, my treasure, and you could look this beautiful forever, if you want to.”

You smile at him, and maybe it is only because you are so tipsy, but he seems to sense your deep-down hesitation.

“What is it, my sweet?”

You shake your head, pulling away from him, unsure how to phrase the worries that have been bubbling up inside you over the past tenday or more. Under his inquisitive gaze, you crack, the words tumbling clumsily out of your mouth.

“You’ve seemed different since the ritual. Distant, I guess.”

“I suppose it’s possible. I’ve been imbibed with unfathomable new talents. It’s taking me some time to become acquainted with my new self.”

“…and I can’t stop thinking about all those deaths…” you say nervously.

“Death was better for them, darling. We’ve discussed this.”

“How can you say that so callously?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper now. “You sound like him. You sound like—“

“Don’t say it!” Astarion spits, his face suddenly twisted with fury. “Don't you ever compare me to him! Never! How dare you stand there and judge me.  Your hands are bloody as mine, darling. Why would you go along with any of this just to pretend you're innocent now?”

“I just wanted to help you feel safe.”

“It seems I misjudged you. I thought we would have a future together - even an eternity - but perhaps you’re not worthy. So what’s it to be, darling? After all this, is this it? Is this the end?”

Your thoughts swirl in a drunken panic. “No!” you cry, tears of frustration welling in your eyes. “No, Astarion, I love you. We’ll make it work.”

Like a switch has been flipped, the ugly rage disappears from Astarion’s face, and he takes you in his arms once more, wiping away your tears.

“Of course we’ll make it work, love. Of course we will. You’re the one that I want. The only one I love. And you could be so much more than that. One little bite and you could be mine forever. My beautiful consort. My most beloved spawn.”

This makes you pause. “You said you’d make me a true vampire,” you say, trying to keep the wobble of accusation out of your voice. “After everything you’ve been through, you would make me a spawn?”

“Our situations will be entirely different, of course. I would never hurt you. I love you. And I will make you a true vampire eventually, but these transformations take time. Trust me, my love.”

You nod mutely, because the bone-weariness from the past day, the past ten-day, the past entire remembered history of your life is suddenly seeping into you, and you have nothing left to say. Besides, you do trust him. This man who stood against your father with you - who stood against a god with you. You trusted him enough to have him by your side through the toughest battles of your life. Why on all the planes would that change now?

He smiles and kisses you gently. “Now, my love. Shall we make love one more time while your heart is still beating?”

You nod again and tell yourself that the dread you feel is only the result of tiredness, and you let him take you by the hand. 

“Then come with me, my darling, and live your final night.”

[delucadarling]

grabbing each other's hands in crowds or when crossing the street to "be safe" - for Barbie/Mason, please! 🥰 (~agentnatesewell)

The sun is bright and the hot, damp air clings heavily to every inch of Barbie's body. Even in her sleeveless dress she feels like she's melting into the grass. When Kira had described Wayhaven's annual summer fete, she had known it would be hot and sunny. She hadn't realized there wouldn't be enough tents to escape the heat though, nor had she realized that the fete was such a big deal that people from neighboring towns would be attending as well. The mayor seems more than pleased by the turn out, even as Barbie is doing her best to not scream every time someone jostles her as they pass.

She clings to her condensation covered bottle of beer and her sanity with slippery fingers.

It is beautiful at least. Flowers and greenery cover every surface, and smiling faces can be seen all around. Market stalls have been set up, dozens upon dozens of local artisans selling their wares to eager customers.

Across the clearing, where a dance floor has been erected, she can see Kira and Nat doing a lively country jig, one that Nat was likely around for the inception of. How they can be moving so vigorously in this heat with glowing expressions of delight, she will never know.

A young child bumps her as he hurries to catch up with his older siblings. A flicker of annoyance passes over Barbie; her patience runs much deeper for children. When a careless adult next bumps into her, nearly dislodging her beer, she has to clench her jaw to say nothing despite how it makes displeasure stab up and down the side of her they touched.

"Hey," a familiar and much beloved voice says from her left. Barbie blinks past the sensation, spotting Mason. He doesn't seem to be enjoying himself any more than she is, but last she'd seen he was lingering by the SUV, determined to stay out of the crowd.

"Hello," Barbie says. Mason holds a hand out, palm up, and she takes it. He tugs her closer, looking around for a moment before spotting a clear path through the crowd.

"Let's go." He heads off, leading Barbie along behind him.

Not that she really cares, but Barbie still has to ask, "Where?"

"Away from the bullshit," Mason replies, catching a few dirty looks from parents. She hurries to keep up, wishing for once she hadn't bothered wearing heels.

Part of her wants to be disappointed. She had been so excited to attend with Kira. At the same time, she can't deny that all she feels as the crowd thins out is relief. All the more so when Mason takes them both down a shadowed alleyway, out of the sun. They take shelter from the festivities there, watching at a distance. The beer bottle in her hand is gently tugged away.

"You came just to get me?" Barbie asks. Mason nods. She curves an eyebrow.

"You did it for me," he says. She blinks, and he adds, "At that shitty carnival."

"Oh, right." Barbie laughs, surprised he remembers that. She barely does. Looking back out, she considers the fete. "I thought I wanted to be there."

"You can go back." Mason shrugs, then takes a deep pull of the beer. She's entranced for a moment, watching the movement of his throat as he swallows. Then Barbie's gaze dips down to their hands, still joined together.

"No," Barbie says, wetting her lips. "I can think of better ways to spend my time."

[cherryrainn]

onceler's romantic headcanons from the 72 version? I always wanted to read it and i would love it if you would write it because, oh my, i love your fanfics!

i love this! thank you for your ask and kind words <3

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— vintage romance

1972 onceler romantic headcanons

onceler is a man of passion and ambition, but when it comes to matters of the heart, he takes things slow. he doesn't rush into relationships, preferring to build a strong foundation of friendship and trust before opening up to romantic possibilities.

onceler may seem distant and reserved at first, but once he lets his guard down around you, he becomes incredibly affectionate.

he shows his love through small gestures like brushing your hair, holding hands, and leaving sweet notes for you to find.

he has a whimsical charm, and he wouldn't shy away from dancing under the stars with you. whether it's a lively jig or a slow waltz, he embraces the joy of the moment and cherishes the connection it brings.

in the midst of his busy days, onceler finds little ways to surprise you. he leaves notes hidden in unexpected places, sends sweet messages when you least expect them, and steals moments of stolen kisses to remind you how much he adores you.

you have deep, meaningful conversations late into the night. you share your dreams, fears, and aspirations, knowing that onceler will always listen and support you. he values your thoughts and feelings, and your connection is built on trust and understanding.

together, you watch the beauty of both sunsets and sunrises. as the sun dips below the horizon, onceler wraps his arms around you, cherishing every moment together. and as the sun rises, he is there to remind you that each day holds a promise of new adventures and love.

onceler loves to surprise you with thoughtful homemade gifts. from handcrafted jewelry made from truffula seeds to beautifully painted landscapes of the valley, each gift holds a piece of his heart and creativity.

each night before falling asleep, onceler leans in to place a soft kiss on your forehead, a loving gesture that assures you of his affection and presence.

onceler creates cozy reading nooks around the house. he fills them with soft blankets, cushions, and shelves stocked with your favorite books. you spend countless afternoons curled up together, lost in different worlds but always connected.

occasionally, onceler surprises you with breakfast in bed, complete with heart-shaped pancakes and a vase of freshly picked flowers. it's a sweet gesture that warms your heart and starts the day with love.

[curlysgirl0202]

HEAD CANNON STORY:

What Would Curly Bill and His Significant Other Argue/Fight About (IN PROGRESS)

Curly Bill isn't always the easiest person to get along with. He's been known to have a fierce personality, guffawing so loud it can be heard across the street and lots of practical jokes such as the time Curly shot the cigar out a man's mouth just for fun. Or when he made a preacher dance a jig when old Curly was looking for some reform. He also made a group of patrons in a restaurant stop eating and made them wait for him to be done with his meal before they could finish. When the big cowboy was done eating, he felt so full, he fell asleep at the table. The customers didn't move out of fear until the rustler woke up. When he did, he paid for everyone's dinner. Curly was known to do things like this. He usually kids around in fun and likes people who can play along and not take themselves too seriously. If they don't, he may shoot the flames off candles or shoot a hole right through their cup or shatter their shotglass out of their hands. He doesn't intend to really harm anyone (unless they hurt one of his own), it's just about having fun and getting a rise out of people. So, if the two of you are together or just starting to get to know each other, you may have a few hiccups along the way while you're getting to know each other. What would the two of you argue about:

*His drinking. It's no secret that Curly Bill and all his red sashers are heavy drinkers. They can start in the morning and not finish until they run out of booze or money or just pass out. There are moments when Curly feels disgusted with himself for not being able to control his drinking at times. But in the old west, there wasn't as much to do as in the big cities. Even towns like Tombstone had limited entertainment options. There was the theater, a small library, bowling alley, a museum and an ice cream parlor. Since Curly really has no interest in reading or museums, he sticks to the gambling houses, saloons and the whore houses. Eventually, it just becomes routine and he would run out of things to do. But booze flowed a plenty in the towns he and his boys frequented. Without much else and for a man like Curly Bill who doesn't care about books or culture much, he tends to drink lots! So you may find yourself telling him you think he's had enough. Since that's the last thing this old cowboy wants to hear, he tells you he's fine and no one is going to spoil his fun! He may even take you home and tell you to stay home if you don't want to see him drunk and no one is going to tell him what to do...Not even you. He'll be ashamed and afraid of your feelings about his drinking, but you're understanding and don't want to push him into more drinking or an argument that may get heated since Curly Bill doesn't always have the best emotional regulation skills. Some days, you let it go. When he's so drunk, he's almost belligerent, he tries to avoid you so he doesn't end up doing something stupid. But when that drunk, he may start flirting with you and touching you, trying to seduce you into making love. But because he's drunk, you're not interested. Although he will try to control himself, you may find him getting on top of you and refusing to let you go. When you start crying because he's basically holding you down against your will, his shame will cause embarrassment and he may continue to try to get with you or he'll leave in a huff only to return later to apologize with his tail between his legs and he'll tell you that you're so beautiful he couldn't stand it. Either way, he'll be a handful when he's really drunk!

*His friends. Ringo may be the only one of Curly's friends that doesn't make you sick to your stomach with their stench, wild sense of humor and drunken brawls. At least Ringo is always a gentleman. Sometimes he'll even intervene on your behalf and tell the Cowboys and even Curly Bill that enough is enough! Although Curly is your love, you can't help but appreciate Johnny Ringo. Ringo would feel that Curly Bill is a fool for getting so drunk he could lose you altogether. And Ringo may lecture his bestie by telling him he's got a wonderful woman who loves him and he needs to get his head out of his kesiter and understand that if he doesn't modify his behavior somewhat, you'll be nothing more than a distant memory. Of course old Curly knows that, but he's too proud and well, too stupid to realize it. When Curly's friends are around you, they're usually drunk and sometimes like their boss, say obnoxious things. You do your best not to overreact as you know they really don't know any better, but sometimes you stand up, tell them directly they were out of line before you storm off... Justifiably so. This gives Curly Bill mixed feelings; he loves how you're strong and can stand up for yourself, but he also wants you to get along with his friends. Sometimes if they get too rowdy, Curly will stand up, put his arm around your waist and tell, "leave her alone!" Other times, he lets you handle his friends. And Ringo will shake his head at Curly Bill who knows damn well he should never let his boys talk to you with anything but absolute respect. Sometimes they're on the "best" behavior and sometimes they're so intoxicated, they start touching your hair or even your face. They'll say things like, "you sure are pretty!" They may start asking you what Curly Bill did to get you to go with him and what does a lovely lady like yourself is with a known rustler and gunslinger. The whiskey on their breath mixed with stale cigar smoke along with their stench can be more than you can take. You have a right to tell them they could use a bath. It is when Curly Bill sides with his friends over you that hurts. He can feel torn sometimes...Of course he wants to protect you and he always delights in coming to your rescue . He also is not the most sensitive man around and may not fully understand why you're so upset. It is when those misunderstandings occur that the two of you argue. You beg Curly to always be on your side and his friends tell him sometimes you're just too sensitive and take yourself too seriously. Sometimes the big cowboy agrees with his friends. If he knows they're joking, he laughs it off because of their bond and sense of humor. He's used to it! When you get upset over something they were just fooling about, sometimes Curly tells you that they're joking. If he sees they've gone too far or worse, you're starting to cry, he will become angry at his rowdy cowboys and will want to make sure you know he cares so he may yell at them in front of you so he knows you know he cares. But he may return to his cowboys and say that you're too sensitive sometimes. And sometimes his friends need to back off if they want to be in the presence of a beautiful lady who is kind to them and often bakes treats like muffins or cupcakes just for them. Since nobody cares about the Cowboys at all, they would hate to lose your soft touch and sweetness. And as long as you're around, they may have a chance to steal you away from their leader. But you're in love with Curly Bill! Just to save face with his gang he may tell them that you're sensitive. He doesn't want to come across as a guy who does whatever his woman wants. At the same time , he hates seeing you upset. He may just knock the cowboy out with a punch if they get too out of line. He's got a reputation to maintain!

*His language. Curly Bill doesn't drop f bombs regularly nor is he big on swearing. But he ain't great at talking eloquently either. When he talks, it sounds like, "there ain't nothing, it ain't no matter, hell, it don't bother me none! I ain't got no beef with that! It ain't nothin' neither!" You get the picture. Sometimes you just want to have a conversation with actual words. You may not necessarily argue, but he may find your correcting him on occasion to be annoying. You're just trying to be helpful and he knows that, but he's going to tell you, "I ain't had much schoolin' and there ain't nothing in books!" And that may hurt because you love to read. You know there's plenty in books and deep down so does he, but he's practically illerate and somewhat embarrassed that you know so much more than he does. If Curly Bill needs to know something, he usually just asks Ringo. Sometimes Ringo tells his friend to pick up a book sometime! And of course Curly just laughs out loud like he does to hide his shame. Sure he knows he should be smarter like Ringo, but lacks the patience.

* Your interests. You're more cultured and sophisticated than all the cowboys combined, including Ringo. So that can be more intimidating than anything else to old Curly. He doesn't know Mozart from Strauss, has never heard of Renoir, thinks museums are boring and there's nothing to learn anyway. Wandering through an art gallery would not be old Curly's first choice for an outing. He'd be intrigued with how interested you are and may smile when you start talking about something you're passionate about, but he really doesn't appreciate the finer things the way you do. But don't be shocked if he interrupts you and starts talking about how he just doesn't get it and he wants to leave and get a drink. He may grow impatient and ask if you're done gawking at all this art. He's not the most sentimental guy around. If you tell him to stop it, he may take you in his arms and hug you to get you to forget or he may walk out and tell you you know where to find him when you're done wasting your time. When he's this insensitive, you put him in his place and sometimes he takes his hat off and apologizes because he knows he's a horse's ass. Then you usually give him a kiss on the cheek to remind him you do care. You understand he's a cowboy who never really amounted to anything in his life and regards you as an irreplaceable treasure. Since Curly Bill has never had anyone to care about, he isn't savvy on how to handle you sometimes. He's known for his wild and tremendous sense of humor. He lives to live and embrace life without limits or orders. However, he in his private moments, desperately wants you to see him as so much more than a reprobate cowboy who never worked an honest job in his adult life. The only honest work he did was mending fences or fixing other things around Old Man Clanton's farm and ranch. And you do see him as more than that and since you're the only person who sees him that way and ever made him feel like he is more than that, he can't help but be so in love with you. You see the side he tries to hide with his loud guffawing and practical jokes. All to hide the pain or fear in his heart. Some of the things that interest you may interest him and he'll pretend on occasion to be into what you're saying. Sometimes when he's had a few shots of nose paint, he'll smile at you and say, "you're so smart. Damn! I think you're smarter than Ringo and I ain't never met anyone that smart. He's always got his nose in a book!" And you'll answer, "well, that's why he's so smart!" At that, Curly will take your joke and laugh at himself. "I ain't done nothing smart cept know how to drive cows!"

*His lifestyle. We all know Curly Bill is the King of the Cowboys and he enjoys that title very much. He got into the rustling business shortly after the war ended and by the time he met Old Man Clanton and his sons, Billy and Ike, he was already a seasoned cowboy. Old Man Clanton liked Curly Bill's leadership abilities and that he could shoot as well as he ropes. It was for that reason that the old man made Curly Bill the head of the gang, passing over his two sons.

[shiranazarian]

**Title: Puppeth Shenanigans vs. Ronald McDonald: The Fry Wars**

In the bustling markets of Ul'dah, Puppeth Shenanigans, a Lalafell of infinite mischief, was busy concocting his latest scheme. He was known far and wide as the trickster extraordinaire, capable of turning even the most mundane tasks into a chaotic circus. But today, his focus was laser-sharp. He had learned that his archenemy, Ronald McDonald—a fellow Lalafell and devious member of the Syndicate—was about to unveil a new fast-food franchise, the "McLalafry."

"That clown thinks he can steal my thunder? Not on my watch," Puppeth muttered, rubbing his tiny hands together with glee. He set off towards the Golden Saucer, where Ronald was holding his grand opening.

The Golden Saucer was buzzing with excitement. Ronald McDonald, dressed in his signature red and yellow attire, stood proudly in front of his new stand. "Ladies and gentle-Lalas, prepare your taste buds for the most fry-tastic experience of your lives! Introducing the McLalafry—so good, it’ll make your taste buds dance a jig!"

Puppeth snuck through the crowd, his mind already spinning with ideas. He had prepared a special batch of "Puppeth's Prankster Potatoes"—a cleverly disguised set of fries that would cause uncontrollable hiccups with every bite. With a quick sleight of hand, he swapped the McLalafries with his own concoction.

Ronald, unaware of the switch, began serving the crowd. "Step right up and try the McLalafry! Guaranteed to make you smile!"

As the first customer—a particularly hungry Roegadyn—took a bite, his face turned red. He let out a thunderous *hic!* that echoed through the Saucer. Soon, the entire crowd was in a fit of uncontrollable hiccups, creating a symphony of laughter and chaos.

Ronald’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening. "Puppeth!" he bellowed, scanning the crowd for his rival.

Puppeth appeared from the shadows, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, Ronnie, did you really think you could ketchup to my level of tomfoolery? Looks like your plan has... *fizzled out!*"

Ronald, not one to be outdone, quickly came up with a plan of his own. "Oh, so you want to play dirty, eh? Let’s see how you handle a taste of your own medicine!" He pulled out a vial labeled "Clown Condiment," a special sauce that made anyone who ate it burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Before Puppeth could react, Ronald tossed the sauce onto the fries. The crowd, still hiccuping, now began to giggle uncontrollably, some even rolling on the ground in fits of laughter.

Puppeth tried to stay serious, but one whiff of the sauce and he was rolling on the ground alongside the others. "Alright, alright, Ronnie, you got me this time! But don’t think this is over!"

Ronald smirked, adjusting his bright red wig. "Oh, I’m counting on it, Puppethead. Just remember, in the world of fast food and fast feet, the clown always has the last laugh!"

As the two Lalafells laughed amidst the chaos they had caused, it was clear that this rivalry was far from over. For in the city of Ul'dah, where mischief and mayhem reigned supreme, there would always be room for one more prank, one more pun, and one more round of the never-ending Fry Wars.

[heritage-instrument-insurance]

The Story of Fiddle Instruments Evolution

Close your eyes and picture this: a fiddle snuggled comfortably in your hands. Just four strings and a bow, right? Simple, perhaps. But this little musical instrument holds a world of magic that has traversed the globe for centuries. It has been there for the lively jigs of Europe, the soulful whines of Appalachian evenings, and everything in between. The fiddle has been a companion, a storyteller, and a way to celebrate life's ups and downs. Simply put, this string has been a constant friend of the human spirit. Let’s know a bit more about it.

Europe: A Tapestry of Folk Fiddling

The fiddle's story starts way back. It begins with its medieval ancestors like the rebec – a pear-shaped string gear with just one drumhead! By the 16th century, the fiddle we know and love had taken shape. It was not just for fancy folks in castles either – it became a regular at lively parties and community gatherings in Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. Jigs, reels, and strathspeys were not just fun dance tunes. They were a way for people to show their spirit and keep going, even through tough times.

Meanwhile, over at the grand courts of Europe, it had a more sophisticated cousin – the violin. Famous composers like Corelli and Vivaldi wrote beautiful pieces for it. But the lines between fancy and folk music were not always distinct. Elegant dances like the gavotte and minuet found their way into village celebrations, and sometimes catchy folk melodies snuck into the grand ballrooms too.

All credit goes to trade and cultural exchange that the fiddle kept transforming and growing. The lively Celtic styles met up with the unique sounds of Scandinavia, where musicians loved using drones and special harmonies. In Eastern Europe, it became a part of klezmer music, the energetic and beautiful tradition of the Ashkenazi Jews. So, it is a whole family of sounds, constantly evolving and reflecting the cultures it touched. If you are lucky enough to have this gear, make sure to cover it under a comprehensive fiddle insurance policy.

The Fiddle Sails West: A New World Songbook

Across the Atlantic Ocean, European immigrants were not just carrying their belongings – they were carrying an absolute musical heritage in their trusty fiddles. In the melting pot of North America, the gear found a whole new way to sing.

For pioneers pushing westward, it became a steady partner. Small and easy to carry, it was perfect for livening up barn dances, community gatherings, or even a lonely night under the vast frontier sky. Tunes like "Soldier's Joy" and "Forked Deer" were not just catchy melodies. They echoed the struggles, the grit, and the deep longing for home the settlers fronted.

But the fiddle's story in America did not stop there. Up in the Appalachian Mountains, a unique blend of European, African, and maybe even Native American influences came together to create bluegrass music. The fiddle, alongside the banjo and mandolin, became the heart and soul of this new sound. Bluegrass fiddling is all about driving rhythms, fancy fingerwork, and sometimes even playing two notes at once (called double stops).

Its influence was not limited to just one region, though. Down in Louisiana, they joined forces with accordions to create the lively sounds of Cajun and Zydeco music. And even in American country music, it became a staple. Think of iconic artists like Johnny Cash and Charlie Daniels – their signature styles would not be the same without those unmistakable melodies. Therefore, industry experts recommend getting a dedicated fiddle insurance plan in the first place.

A Legacy That Endures

The string's journey is not over yet! Modern players like Alison Krauss and Mark O'Connor have been keeping things fresh by mixing old tunes with new ideas, making this gear a welcome guest in today's music scene.

So, what makes this instrument so special anyway? It is all about how adaptable it is. A skilled musician can use it to create wild, happy jigs that make you want to dance all night. But it can also be a gentle voice, expressing sadness in a mournful ballad. It is versatile.

[redemptioninchaos]

fantasycorrupted

Had his ability to alter food’s taste transferred to Aurora’s mood? Wait, that was not a weird ability. People did that on a daily basis while existing. And it made sense. You couldn’t be happy or sad or angry about things the entire time. Feelings were like water, easy to change, constantly flowing.

And yet…

A smile appeared on his face, benign yet playful. “I’m glad.” His eyes slipped from hers then, and Aurora could notice the tips of his fingers twitching for a few seconds. The food’s aroma increased and altered a little, starting to smell like it had just left the oven (warm was not a smell, per se, but perhaps not even Aurora would deny hot food smelled different than room temperature food). “Right… Let’s see if it worked.”

“Bro.” It seemed so. From the other end of the table, Brennan made a pleased sound. “Didja do your food tricks again, K? This ain’t taste the way it did a few seconds ago.”

“It’s even better now,” Luceus mumbled, stuffing his mouth full of even more food and groaning in delight. Kamael made a little victorious dance in his seat. It worked!

She was slightly irked at herself that she didn’t make the casserole as well as she’d hoped, but she at least took pride in the fact that Kamael didn’t have to do too much in order to make the ideal casserole she had in her mind. The fact that he did exactly what she intended at first convinced her that the two had even more chemistry together than she thought. 

There was desire in her eyes as she took another bite. If it was just Kamael and Aurora, she may have put dinner on hold until another appetite was satisfied. For the moment, however, her wing brushed against his shoulder, Aurora especially glad that nobody could read her mind right then.

The magic she used to enhance her food was a variation of the Infernal magic she possessed via her demonic bloodline. Since her connection to Bescevius was severed, and since she avoided connecting with the Infernal in any degree, it would take her a while longer to tweak her abilities to maximize taste and food quality while minimizing the chances of becoming the demon she was before Ajax freed her. 

She chuckled when Kamael did his little jig and gently grazed his forearm with her free hand.

“you– you want to do it again?” (Kamael, to Aurora)

Normally, kissing succubi presented many dangers, physical and spiritual. Aurora had generally spoken about said dangers with the group, which hopefully helped explain why she opted to keep a bit of distance between herself and any of the men there. She couldn't have lived with herself if emotions waxed passionate and it ended up causing complications.

That being said, Aurora could recognize Kamael's footsteps as she cooked, so she didn't feel the need to turn around. Her wings spread out slightly, almost welcoming the angel to come closer without her having to say anything.

Colette got Aurora an apron that read, "Don't kiss the cook," and it was enough to prompt a chuckle from the succubus. The eccentric woman always found ways to make light of even some of the more serious situations and backgrounds within the group, but it never felt mean-spirited.

Aurora was wearing that same apron when Kamael approached her. She didn't remember what the two were talking about, but it was clear that the two of them struggled to resist each other. Against her better judgment, she let him get even closer, closing her eyes as she anticipated a kiss.

The passage of time was practically nonexistent as she gently kissed him on the lips. Her wings instinctively wrapped both of their bodies, her hands on his chest. Aurora was letting out strong pheromones that would make it even more difficult for the two to pull away from each other.

When they did pull away from each other, Aurora expected her natural predatorial senses to kick in, urging her to take that which would sustain her, guilt and fear flooding her mind at first. While that was present to a degree, she opened her eyes again, and she was still the same Aurora she was before she became a demon.

"Kamael..." Her voice was wispy and dreamy with a hint of sensuality as she closed her eyes again. That time, it was her turn to initiate the kiss...

[pandemoniumskey]

This is Why I Love You - Severus Snape X Reader

Heyo, 

Today, I bring you Severus Snape with a sweet side! I got this idea while working and thought that I just had to write it. And so, with receipt paper and a pen, I brought you this!

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS TORTURE AND PAIN THROUGHT THE USE OF THE UNFORGIVEABLE CURSES. IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE ANYTHING LIKE THAT, PLEASE SKIP!!!

I hope you enjoy!

Love you all, 

Pandemonium

P.S. I got the Masterlist going!!!

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

You and Severus Snape were together. There was nothing really more to say about it other than that. People often asked you "why"

Why you were with him?

Why you loved him?

It was often coupled with "how".

How was it even possible for you to love him?

And yet, you answered every question the same way, by never saying anything. It wasn't their business to know your heart and how it was stolen. There was a side to Severus that nobody but you saw. A side that was sweet and loving.

What made it funnier to you was that he showed people all the time why you loved him.  He wasn't AS rude to you in public and he wasn't against holding your hand or you snuggling up close to him at the dinner table every once in a while.

To Severus, you were his everything. He told you, he hadn't expected to fall in love again after Lily's death, but you came along and you were everything he needed in that moment and beyond. He was your everything as well.

You helped each other, both coming with your separate baggage in the relationship. His was his deep intense love for Lily (and you told him before that you would never tell him he couldn't love her) and you came with years of intense trauma.

You were at the dining table: tonight was one of those nights you needed Severus's comfort. It was a very traumatic day for you and your head was swimming with thoughts of the events that took place while your head rested on his shoulder. His arm was around your waist and after what happened, he wasn't letting go tonight. Not that you minded.

Moody needed a volunteer to demonstrate the Unforgivable Curses to the fourth-year class. Not wanting any of the students to endure that you said you would do it, obviously omitting the Killing Curse. You knew it was a choice you were going to regret the instant you made it.

Never before have you told any of the students that before their time, you sacrificed yourself to save your companions in the Order of the Phoenix only to endure several years of torture and pain that would be doubled by the loss of your friends.

And yet, here you were standing in front of these 14-year-olds about to destroy all the progress you made building up resistance to the Imperius Curse

"Today we are going to be talking about the Unforgivable Curses," Moody said in his gruff voice. He went on to ask the students if they knew any of the curses.

The Imperius Curse was the first mentioned by Hermione Granger and like always she was correct. He shouted, "Imperio" and you allowed that warm comforting feeling into your body. Your entire body was telling you to fight back, but your mind was telling you that no harm would come to you this time.  

"You will do a cartwheel, then dance a jig. Once that is done you will do Jazz hands and singing opera say 'tada'," and you did as told. Once out of the curse, you surveyed the students. Some looked impressed, others looked horrified.

"Now can anyone tell me any other ones?" This was the one you were dreading. Neville raised his hand timidly. He knew just about as well as you did what was coming next. The faces of the other students were full of shock, "the Crutiatus Curse."

"That is correct. Now for this one, Professor (L/N), choose a safe word, when you've had enough call it out and I will stop," you put on a brave face for Neville's sake and chose the word 'Gryffindor'.

You stood tense waiting for the unbearable pain to begin and soon it did.

In an instant, you were on the floor thrashing and screaming in agony. You had no control over your movements at all as you were subjected to the most intense pain you ever felt. Memories came flooding in from your past and that was when you knew you needed it to stop.

"Gryffindor!" You screamed, but the pain didn't stop. You twisted towards Mad-Eye Moody and saw a brief wicked smile on his face. "Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Stop! Please! MOODY! MOODY PLEASE!"

Your pleading was soon cut off in your throat as another scream ripped its way out of your body. You were helpless as you thrashed on the floor screaming as the pain and memories attacked all your senses. You were being driven into insanity, you could think of nothing but pain and guilt.

Finally, the pain stopped, and it was to your relief because a student had called on the other professor to stop his actions. You curled into a ball on the floor sobbing. The memories and the guilt still eating you. It was your fault Lily and James Potter were dead and it was your fault that Frank and Alice Longbottom were tortured into insanity. Had you found a way to distract the Death Eaters longer with your presence, they could have still been able to love their children.

"I'm sorry! I'M SORRY! It's my fault." Their faces flashed in front of your eyes and you moaned out, "I should have fought harder! I could have saved you..."

Hemione POV

She had never seen Professor (L/N) look so fragile before in her life as she lay there sobbing on the floor. She was talking about something, and it wasn't clear until she had said that she should have fought harder.

"Can someone tell me the last curse?" Hemione was repulsed that he would ask at such a time when the woman obviously needed help. Nobody responded. And he announced that it was Avada Kadavra, and that the only person to ever survive it was in the room with them.

Hermione not waiting to be excused got up and left the room to get the one person she felt could help at that moment.

Her feet carried her quickly to the dungeon where she burst into the room full of sixth-year students, "Professor Snape, it's Professor (Y/N). Somethings wrong!" She watched as his face had turned from cold fury at being interrupted to panic and worry in a flash.

"Bring me to her Miss Granger," he said up from his desk and at the door with Hermione in an instant. "Class dismissed, homework will be discussed in our next class."

As they ran to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, she filled Professor Snape in with the details of the events that had happened. The door was in sight and he used magic to open it before striding in and seeing the love of his life huddle on the floor.

He sat down resting a hand gently on her shoulder. She gasped and thrashed at the contact in fear before she noticed it was Professor Snape.

"Severus," she gasped crawling into his embrace. He had her seated and resting against him, her ear pressed against his chest. "I could have saved them."

"(Y/N), there was no way you could have saved those four," he said gently. "You were tortured for years, there was no way you could have done anything to help them."

"I could have distracted them," she sobbed. He began to stroke her hair.

"No (Y/N), you couldn't have," The students were captivated watching the scene. They had never seen their potions master like this before. "Don't ever blame yourself for what happened to them. They would never have wanted that. You were their good friend, they would want you to remember them in those last moments of happiness before your capture."

Professor (Y/N) remained silent. Hermione could see his words were sinking in and she was coming back to reality. He continued speaking to her, his eyes full of love.

"I love you. If I had any doubt that you were guilty of any of this, I would not be with you. You are the strongest woman I have ever met, and I know James, Lily, Frank, and Alice don't blame you for any of this."

"You think so?" He nodded.

"I know so."

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"I love you too. Hold me?"

He nodded and helped her to her feet. They left the classroom in silence.

"Professor (L/N) is the only person alive to have ever endured the Crutiatus Curse for long durations of time without losing her mind," Professor Moody said as if that never happened and Hermione was angry again.

"What happened?" A student asked and as much as she hated it, she was curious to know as well."

"Three years before Voldemort's downfall, a group of 30 wizards in a resistance founded by Dumbledore were trapped by a large number of death eaters. (Y/N) created a distraction that allowed enough time for the group to disapparate and she was left behind.

"They captured her, bringing her to Voldemort in the hopes that she would give him information on the resistance's whereabouts but she refused. He was furious and used the Crutiatus Curse on her. When she did not break even then, he had others continue to torture and abuse her in hopes that one day they would be able to wear her down enough to give them information about something.

"Weeks turned into months turned into years and at this point, the Death Eaters were just keeping her around as a stress reliever. They would now torture her for amusement when they had nothing better to do. Yet, her will was strong and they could not break her, and even more curiously, they could not take her sanity."

Everyone was shocked to hear that story, and it all made sense to Hermione now. The bell rang and in a weary unison, the students all stood and exited the classroom. They were all stunned to silence.

(Y/N) POV

"(Y/N)," Severus said quietly trying to gain your attention. You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes. "You need to eat something."

You forced a few bites into your mouth and rested your head back on his shoulder. You couldn't bring yourself to speak at the moment and you knew he understood.

"Come on, let's go to bed early," the love of your left prompted you to stand up and follow him to your shared room. There he pampered you, bathed you, got you into your favourite pajama set, and pulled you into his chest to cuddle him.

He was being so sweet, you couldn't help but feel better as you rested in his arms quietly. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep.

You knew you were safe in Severus's warm embrace.

"People ask me all the time why I love you," you finally whispered after the long period of time where you said nothing. "This is why I love you."

[tainted-wine]

Primal Dissonance

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

So anon was like:

And since I’m total ass at writing short drabbles, or maybe it’s because they called me senpai, I ended up with a whole-ass fic. This took a different route than planned but I hope you enjoy, anon!

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: Dubcon, Pheromones, Mindbreak, Feral Hawks, Rough and Public Sex, Tit Abuse. This totally isn’t as dark as it sounds.

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Hawks has been getting noisy. Not in the usual sense; he’s always a motormouth. No, he’s been making sounds that you’ve never heard him make.

At first you thought he was sick and something was irritating his throat, but on one occasion when you offered him water after hearing the sound, he almost looked offended. You concluded that it wasn’t an illness.

You later noticed that the noise often happens when it’s just the two of you together. During late night movie viewings at his place, he’d hold you close and release a constant hum, the vibrations from his chest and wings soothing enough to make you drift into sleep in his arms. You never saw the look of disappointment in his face as he decided to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

Just a few days later, he spots you during one of his patrols and presents you with a surprise expensive gift. A ruby pendant, the same brilliant shade as his feathers, was placed around your neck by gentle gloved hands.

“Hawks—why—what did I do to deserve this?” You asked while your eyes reflected the gemstone’s sparkles.

“Just wanted to give a pretty gift to my pretty girl.” He gave you a kiss, and waves of soft hums leave his mouth and into yours, flowing through your body, stimulating all of your nerves and triggering pleasant shivers. One makeout session later, and you both pull back to lock eyes. He’s looking at you expectantly, but you don’t even know what the hell he’s expecting.

You look to the side awkwardly. “Thank you, Hawks. It’s beautiful, but I…don’t have anything to give in return. This was a complete surprise, after all.”

His eye twitches, but he smiles and embraces you. “That’s fine, chickadee.”

A pigeon appears during your hug, and the soft coos emanating from it give you an epiphany.

“A pigeon! That’s what it is! You’re cooing like a pigeon!”

This time it’s his smile that twitches. Did you say something wrong? Whatever it is, he brushes it off with a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

That was also the day you noticed his rising body temperature. You asked once again if he was feeling ill, and at least this time he didn’t appear to be upset when he answered ‘no.’

On the next night you spent in his home, he—and you’re still not over this—took your hand and pulled you in for a dance. It wasn’t some silly jig in which he blindly moved to a random pop song, it was a slow classic love song, and he moved both of you in an elegant dance fitting for a ballroom.

It was the last thing you expected from the hero that normally took you on KFC dates or, if he had the time, reserve a spot at his favorite yakitori place. But there was no way you could say that you didn’t like the way his feet glided across the floor, wings acting as a living cape that made each of his movements look all the more graceful, and you followed his pace as best as you could.

You clung onto him more tightly than intended when he dipped you after a spin, sharp avian eyes boring into you before he buries his face in your neck, and that’s when you feel more than hear the cooing return. It’s a tune that never fails to make you feel so warm and safe; you have no idea how his gentle sounds have such influence over you.

He looks pleased by your relaxed state, pulling you back up and brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “So?”

You smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I didn’t know you had such grace, Hawks. Now hurry up, or we’re going to miss the movie for tonight!”

You scampered off into the kitchen to prepare the popcorn, completely oblivious to the baffled look your boyfriend was giving behind your back.

A few days later and you’re more certain than ever that he’s coming down with something, because now there’s a constant sheen of sweat all over his skin, and his breath sounded labored even when he was just sitting around. Since he ignores all of your pleas to stay home for just a day or two, you come up with another solution. Hawks pouts like a child when you tell him that a little nature and clean air might restore his health, but he still accepts your offer for a date at a nature park because hey, spending a day in natural beauty with you sounds great.

You practically dragged him into a bus after telling him several times that he shouldn’t tire himself out prematurely by flying both of you there. One long scenic drive later, you both arrive at your beautiful destination. The park was huge and lush with flora of all kinds, from tree-filled paths to endless flower fields.

Exploring everything this paradise has to offer with Hawks sounds like a dream, but your main goal was to loosen him up and help him feel better, so you avoided the populated areas, passing the cycling roads, the play areas, the bug houses, all of the charming attractions until you reached the long stretches of vibrant colors. The flower park.

You and Hawks began a slow stroll hand-in-hand, taking in the seemingly endless blooms, the trees shedding petals onto the walkway—all of it served as the most delicious treat for your eyes.

But when you looked at the winged hero to see if he was enjoying the scenery as much as you were, you saw that he was staring at you. His face was slightly flushed, but you couldn’t tell if it was the result of his feverish temperature or if he’s finding this whole date very romantic.

“The flowers are over there, birdbrain,” you joked with a squeeze of his hand.

His wing wrapped around you and pulled you in closer, encasing you in his abnormal heat. “The only flower that matters is right here.” There was a rough breathlessness to his voice that made the otherwise corny line sound sensual.

And then the coos returned, bringing you back to that pleasant world where everything was warm, soft, and safe. The red feathers surrounding you quivered and rippled like ocean waves of scarlet. You were supposed to be making him feel at ease here, not the other way around.

A chorus of chirps snapped you out of your stupor. You broke out of the hypnotic embrace and spot a bunch of small bouncing figures in the white lilac tree in front of you. “Aww, look at all of the little tits, Hawks!” You point at the flock of singing critters.

Hawks snorted immaturely.

Before you could withdraw your arm, one of the Japanese tits flew over and perched on your still-extended finger, leaving you bug-eyed and your mouth agape. “Hi there! You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?” You said softly, hoping not to startle it. It tweeted in response, fluffing up its black and white plumage as it looked up at you curiously. “Hawks! It’s so cute!”

Red wings bristled, but you were too enamored with the friendly bird on your hand to even look back at your boyfriend. It continued to sing, the tits sitting in the tree joining in to create an adorable medley of chirps, tweets, and peeps. “Such a nice sound, I never realized how amazing these little guys are.” You keep watching the beady eyes that stare right back at you, feeling the bird’s little feet move quickly as it adjusted itself to get more comfortable.

And with a powerful slug from a hardened red feather out of nowhere, the tiny tit is knocked off of your finger and sent flying like a fucking golf ball.

Your pointing hand was still out as you looked on, eyes and mouth now wide open in horror instead of awe. The poor bird managed to right itself before it hit the ground, flapping frantically to ride the light breeze and fly past its tree of brethren and off into the distance, its sloppy turns and sudden drops betraying how dazed it was.  

With your short-lived friend out of your sight, you turned to the man that ruined your magical bonding session, multiple negative emotions boiling inside you and ready to spill right onto this bastard. “Hawks!” You’re prepared to blow his ears off with every ounce of frustration, every concern that’s been plaguing you for the past week thanks to the strange changes that he refuses to talk about, but then you freeze.

The man’s face has darkened, eyes narrowed with its pupils shrunken into beady slits, lips pressed together in a tight frown—he looked enraged. But the terrifying look wasn’t directed at you, he was looking up at the innocent tits still residing in the tree and paying no mind to the violent treatment of one of their own. As his wings slowly spread with feathers sharpened, your chest constricted once you realized what was about to happen.

“Stop!” You threw yourself at him, grabbing at the outstretched limbs in a pitiful attempt to stop them, the bladed edges cutting your hands. It was still enough to shock and prevent him from launching any of the deadly weapons at the birds. You felt his feathers return to their soft fluffy state as he stumbled from your weight. “What the hell are you doing? What, are you pissed that it chose my hand instead of yours? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now he was aiming the glare at you, and you couldn’t help but shrink under the intimidation. His voice was shockingly low. “Just what game are you playing at here? Gushing over another bird’s song right in front of me?”

You eyed his still-expanded wings as you tried to make sense of what he said. “What?” Was all you could say.

“Here I was thinking you just had extremely high standards, but maybe you’re the type that likes to play hard to get, or make your guy jealous and see how he handles it.” He took a step toward you, and you took one back. “Well let me tell you, I’m not handling it very well.”

What he was implying would have made you burst into laughter if he didn’t look so threatening right now. “You’re…jealous? Of the bird that was on my finger?”

He laughed, or at least tried to, but the shortness of breath made him cough. The sudden anger must be worsening whatever has been making him hot and throaty for the past days. He needs to calm down for his own damn sake. “I guess I shouldn’t be, should I? Not for a girl who gets wet over any bird that does something as simple as approach her.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear that correctly? No joke, did you really hear that shit correctly?

Hawks just keeps on going, taking your bewilderment as more mockery. “I give you something shiny, you don’t say anything.” A flash of several feathers and you feel your arms being pulled in front of you, the red tufts tying your wrist together.

“I put on a nice dance I practiced for, and you don’t say anything. Did you even notice that I cleaned and decorated the room that night?” You’re panicking from your tied hands and don’t see him fire another barrage that goes for your ankles, their tugs forcing you to lose your balance and fall hard onto the ground with a pained cry. Your hands are forcefully pinned above your head. “Hell, you seem to enjoy my song every time you hear it, so what’s the deal?”

While your heart is on the verge of exploding from its anxious beats, the gears in your head are spinning as you try to figure out how exactly this whole miscommunication even happened, but they keep jamming, filling your head with sparks and smoke of pure confusion. “What song? You haven’t been singing anything!” You yell as you fight against the feather-made cuffs around your hands and feet, but there was no breaking free. They suddenly felt as strong and durable as elastic metal.

Hurt flashes across his face and you don’t understand why goddammit, but it’s quickly masked with another scowl. “You mean the song that’s lulled you to sleep? The song that never fails to put you at ease every time? I can sense it, you know. How calm and pleased you feel whenever you hear it. I know it’s not the loud obnoxious tune of a songbird,” he glances at the tree that continues to emanate various calls as he kneels over you, nearly straddling your waist. Smart of him to keep his groin out of the range of your knees. “But you still enjoy it, right? I’m not too upset that you compared it to a shitty pigeon.”

You only stutter in shaky breaths as he lowers himself and presses all of his weight onto you, your eyes shut as he nuzzles your face lovingly. He feels like a furnace, the sweat from his face slathering onto yours from his rough rubs.

That’s when you smell something potent. You’ve picked up traces of it from him throughout the week, a strange but not unpleasant mixture of salt and sweet. You assumed it to be some sort of shampoo or cologne, but now it’s hitting you full force and it’s making your body…respond. With each inhale, the exotic scent sends a tingle down your abdomen and a release of wetness that dampens your clothing. What the hell is happening to you?

Hawks pulls away and sniffs the air. Your feminine aroma has him moan so suggestively that it makes your core heat up even more. “Oh, so this is getting you going?” He questions in a judgmental tone before something appears to cross his mind, and he laughs with a slap to his forehead. “I’m such an idiot. I’ve been doing this all wrong, haven’t I? You’re not a bird.” He kisses at the side of your face and licks the shell of your ear before whispering, “You’re a mammal. You don’t choose a mate by their pretty gifts or fancy dances.”

The lustful haze invading your mind almost distracts you from whatever is tugging at your pants and pulling them down. “H-Hawks…” You accidentally moaned. You were too out of it to even properly convey your worry. Your pants are removed and something tickles your hips to remove your panties next—that’s when you identify them as more feathers.

“With mammals, males just take what they want. They catch her, hold her down, and fuck her on the spot.”

You gasp when your lower body is completely stripped and exposed—a mistake—Hawks’s intoxicating smell rushes into your mouth and nostrils, making you clench and gush. He lifts himself just enough for the living binds around your wrists to pull and drag you off of the stone walkway and into the blooming batches. The flowers were just tall enough to probably hide you from anyone at a distance, but the winged man crawling over and sitting in front of your feet would easily give you away. “Hawks, someone…might see us,” you mutter.

He only chuckles. “Good, I want them to see. Are you little bastards watching?” He looks up at the lilac tree that now looms right over both of you. The resting tits have gone quiet, most likely intimidated by the large bird-human hybrid that continued to glare at them.

The response was ridiculous enough to temporarily free you from your trance. “I’m not worried about the birds, you dumbass.”

“Hmph, of course you’re not. You’d let them all join in if I’d let you, wouldn’t you?”

You have so many questions about how that would even work.

But you’re interrupted by the feathers around your ankles pulling your feet apart, easily overcoming your resistance and spreading you wide open for the hero in front of you. You have to look away from just how soaked you are, juices flowing from your swollen pussy and onto the soft soil, some of it sticking to your parted thighs in strands. The sight makes Hawks salivate.

“I’m at the peak of my rut and I’m tired of waiting. Gonna make you mine.”

It’s all he says before his entire mouth is on your cunt, tearing a startled cry from your throat. The peaceful sounds of the wind and rustling leaves are overshadowed by the absolutely filthy slurps, sucks, and growls between your legs. He was being a greedy savage that simply wanted to drink you up. There were no careful methods or patterns, just a hungry tongue that lapped at every inch of you and lips that sucked on anything they could grip.

You could barely even writhe from the onslaught, what with your arms pinned over your head and your feet held down so strongly that you couldn’t even move them across the dirt. You kept your sights on the rich colors of various flowers that encircled you as the sweet-smelling haze enveloped you again, enhancing your pleasure. Despite Hawks’ sudden loss of his oral skills, the feral nature of it all—the smothered snarls against your sex, the startling feel of his teeth carelessly grazing your sensitive flesh, and the lewd sight of his face covered in your glistening juices as his glassy eyes opened and stared into yours as he ate you alive—his voracity had you boiling over.

He gulped your essence loudly, welcoming every drop of the orgasmic flood into his mouth. All of the colors in your vision blurred more with each mind-numbing pulse. You weren’t even aware of the shameless wails that left you until the blissful waves finally subsided.

Once he had his fill, he finally pulled away from your mound and boy did he look like a hot mess. His cheeks were a deep red that was slowly spreading across his cum-covered face, a beady string of your fluids hanging from his lips before dripping off. He was climbing back over you and when the fuck did he take his pants off? He must have unbuttoned and removed them while he was licking you into heaven.

He still manages to look smug while he takes in your spent form, your slightly parted lips impossible to resist. Your mouth was suddenly locked with his, the breath you were desperately trying to get back stolen from you. And then the scent returns, this time accompanied with a powerful salted lemon flavor that assaults your taste buds. The taste of your own pussy was insignificant; his aroma in both your nose and mouth is nearly suffocating, your still-recovering inner walls already squeezing out more of your slick.

His tongue thrashes about in your mouth to paint his sweet saliva on every spot he could reach. You swallow it up thirstily and feel an immediate response in your throat that somewhat frightens you. Numbness overtakes your mouth and your throat relaxes completely; you felt like it was suddenly impossible to choke.

Hawks messily pulls away, breathing heavily and licking his lips. “Look at you. All it takes is a whiff and taste of a rutting male to turn you into a submissive little bitch.” You’ve never heard him speak like that, but like every action he’s taken since you’ve been at his mercy, it doesn’t fail to arouse you for reasons you still don’t understand. “Do you want some more? Hmm?”

You’re nodding before your crippled mind can comprehend the question.

The drugged kiss has you dizzy. You’re doing your best to keep track of his movements as he straddles your chest, his cock coming into focus and pressing against your lips. He doesn’t give you a command, you simply open up like a trained whore.

You’re moaning from the addicting taste of his length that pushes all the way to the back of your throat. Once his pubes are flush against your nose, your eyes roll back and you lose all sense of…everything. Everything except for that exhilarant fragrance and flavor.

Even as he begins to move in your mouth, your tongue swirls all around the sweet meat in an attempt to taste him all over. You’re throbbing wildly, but the feathers prevent you from bringing your thighs together for some much needed friction.

He was thrusting in and out at a pace that should have you gagging, but you take the pounding smoothly. Everything was murky, save for the pleasure that was slowly consuming you. You think the birds are singing again, maybe.

Something was smacking against your chin…rather loudly, you think. Hawks’s balls. How obscene, the way he’s hunched over you and fucking your face so roughly, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when it’s all making you feel so damn good. Drool gathers and drips down your mouth. Your throat has become a second pussy, and he was fucking it like one.

The scent has your entire body on fire and you wish so badly that you could touch yourself. It was too powerful, each breath filling you with more burning tension. Your desperate whines came out as bubbly gurgles around his hammering dick. Your climax is dangling right at the edge. All you need is just the smallest touch on your drenched, deprived pussy.

His thick intrusion suddenly leaves your mouth, allowing oxygen to properly enter your lungs and for the pooling saliva to be swallowed. Hawks says something as you cough and sputter, but everything is still too muffled.

“Good……….not yet……….finish inside.” That was all that you were able to catch. You frankly don’t care. You immediately want his overpowering scent back.

When something pushes past the entrance between your legs, you cum instantly. Your scream is silent, or maybe you just can’t hear it, as your restrained limbs twitch like mad from the excruciatingly pleasurable contractions.

You’re already being fucked roughly while you’re still coming down from your orgasmic high. You’re rocked against the flowers and the soft earth beneath, your peaceful surroundings a stark contrast to the raunchy act currently taking place among them.

Hawks leans in once again, and you have to turn away and hold your breath because you truly felt like one more whiff of that mouth-watering smell would bring you the most euphoric death. His mouth drew closer to your ear, harsh pants in sync with his rapid thrusts. There’s no way a body was meant to handle so much stimulation, yet you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted this powerful man and everything that he had. You want him to fill your womb with his seed…bear his strong and healthy offspring…then let him take you all over again…

There’s a soft rumble that brings you back down to earth, clearing your mind just enough so that all of your senses work properly again. The smudged colors return to their original shapes, and the cooing that vibrates through both of your bodies can be heard loud and clear. His song.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you right here. Just give in to me.” Hawks sounds on the verge of losing his voice, weak and graveled, but his singing and hips aren’t letting up.

Finally, fucking finally, the feathers release your limbs. Ignoring how boneless they feel, you use all of your strength to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and your legs lock right above his ass. You cling onto him like a parasite and moan freely, trusting his low and soft vocals to keep you grounded as his citrus aura captivates you again.

Your involuntary clenches ruin him and take him to his peak, several more hard and deep pumps bringing you to your final climax. Both of you cry out loudly enough to scare away the tits still resting in the tree, the small flock flying off to find a quieter perch.

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Good. That showed the little bastards.

Hawks smiled triumphantly as the small birds fled the erotic scene. Once he was certain that none of them were coming back, he returned his attention to you. Your chest heaved with each audible breath, your entire body drenched in sweat, just like his. He laid a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking lovingly as you close your eyes for much-needed rest after almost losing your mind.

He did it. He finally claimed you, and all he had to do was just show a little dominance…and expose you to a hefty dose of pheromones. It was clearly way more than you could handle—maybe the face-fucking wasn’t the best idea, but it looked like you were enjoying yourself enough. No harm done.

“Excuse me, sir?”

Hawks was a cool-headed man. He’s managed to stay calm and collected in the direst of situations. Still, when he slowly turns around to see a man dressed in the park’s staff uniform, blushing at the sight of a sweaty couple with no pants on among the innocent blossoms, he can’t help but feel just a wee bit fucked.

“H-Hawks? It’s really you? Wha-?” The poor guy is lost for words from the fact that he just found the number 2 hero banging someone in public.

Eh, he’s talked his way out of tighter spots.

With a smile, the winged hero sends a few feathers to his discarded pants and withdraws a pen from its pockets.

“How about a deal, buddy? An autograph from yours truly and a coupon for my merch. All you gotta do is walk away and forget what you just saw.”