#map was mine first idea

[hl-obsessed]

Happy Birthday Louis.

I hope you still think Christmas lights are specifically for you, cuz now so many of them are. If we could turn the rest of the lights on the world, just for a little while, and show you how many are up just specifically for you, they would light up map of the world anyway.

There is so much love for you in all the corners of the earth.

It's challenge not to love you and fell safe and like home in space that you created for us.

Thank you for everything. World is so much better place with everything you are giving it.

The happiest birthday and everything what's the best.

[goldensunset]

‘the children yearn for the mines’ is a little too real to me bc when i was a kid and my older siblings were trying to get me into pokémon i really never cared to try playing. BUT. i was obsessed with the underground mining minigame in dppt. i used to beg my sister to let me take a turn playing and set it up for me bc i didn’t know how to so i could go mine for gems nonstop until i cleared that entire cave section of glittering wall spots which always made me so sad bc i was having such a great time. i didn’t even understand the significance of what i was doing but 7 year old me was high off of it

[sysig]

Just Desserts continental northern map made using this method! :D (Patreon)

[pandorashearts]

watching hps (championship finalist) work on aping the full ver of intense voice on append. actual horror game, y'all. the map has over 4k notes (i think 4.5k exactly) & WILD patterns & at least a couple speed changes. they chose violence when they made this new difficulty fr

[inkskinned]

i have spent a few days listening to the music you like. you have a tattoo of the band's logo on your ribs. you got it when you were still kind of a kid. my first tattoo was a bird instead. i did the math - we got our first tattoos in the same calendar year. isn't that kind of cool.

my mom loves hallmark movies, so i grew up thinking love would look like a firework. it feels like one, after all. it's just that my house wasn't safe. i thought love was a weapon, could be pointed at your eyes. could lose a finger to it, or teeth. my father used to say passion is everything. i thought that meant constant fighting was a good thing. i thought that meant love looked like a week of bickering, because it was worth the the weekend's boombox apology. i thought quiet love was boring. i thought love had to blot out everything, compel the body and the mind like puppetry. i thought love looks like ruining your own dinner table - but at least you set a feast.

but love looks like a scarf. your hands smoothing it down my chest, being sure each of the edges are tucked in, worried about my asthma attacks being cold-activated. i race you while i'm wearing heels, you hold my hand to guide me downhill while walking my dog. we dance in my living room to waltz of the flowers, i show you how to hold your arms in proper ballet port de bras. you write a song about looking out of my window while the snow falls. i ask you to text my friends back while i'm driving. you play dj in the front seat. somewhere on route 93, we start murmuring about secret things.

oh. there is a difference between peace and dispassion. it was never that i feared quiet, it's that i didn't know what safe felt like. i liked the chaos because it was familiar, not because it was kind. i think i used to fear the word wife. i didn't like the idea of long, lonely days and being yelled at for small things. i didn't like the idea of sacrificing my one beautiful life.

you meet my friends and make a point to learn things about them. we both get excited about the other person's passions. you read my book for hours, squinting at the small words. i try to understand basic guitar information. we talk for four hours on the phone while i string together a garland. we talk for six hours while you write a poem. i save a pintrest tip for the summer about making paper kites. i plan us a week-long trip to maine, map out my favorite places for an eventual hike. you fall asleep on the ride home, and i turn down the radio so it won't wake you up. your quiet hands fold over mine.

when i look up, the stars are brighter. how carefully you've woven gold into the corners of my life. when i move, i feel some part of my soul reflected back onto you.

oh, love is not a net. it's a blanket.

[wasyago]

Falls in, i would love to hear about this decked out/failed cave exploration au pls pls pls already i am Bewitched

hehehe [in tango's voice] sighh i suppose...

really im very tempted to just let it sit and not tell anything, because it's so fun seeing people theorize and point out details in the notes. but yeah i guess i shouldn't gatekeep it, its a fun au!

i do want to state in the beginning that it was a one-off thing and i have no plans on continuing it or drawing more for it. if you do tho? feel free! (not asking for fanart by any means, but giving the green light if anyone was wondering)

well

-------

Pet crew were a group of cave explorers. They're no experts by any means but they were no amateurs either! (ignore the fact that they're not wearing any PPE, i didn't want to draw it, ok--) And recently they've been excited about mapping out a new cave system they found, completely unexplored according to their research.

Tango, always a big lover of his plans and spreadsheets, presumably decided to go in alone ahead of time to sketch out at least a rough draft for a map, so they had an idea of what they're going to be dealing with.

But see, this cave is not an ordinary cave, no matter how pristine and untouched it looked. It is one gigantic organism of unknown origin, and a hunrgy one at that, the air inside it is filled with little cells or spores that, when inhaled enough, start taking over the body and corroding it to the cave's will. Killing the host in the process.

So, obviously, after spending some time in the cave by himself, Tango did get some cells in him. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough to give him a headstart on the corruption when the group went in for a proper dive some days later.

The first symptoms of undergoing the change are pretty standard: light fever, weakness, dizziness — easy to mistake for a flu.

Which is exactly what Tango did. Of course, going caving with a flu is not a smart thing to do either, but the group has been planning this trip for so long, delaying it even more because someone was slightly under the weather would've been foolish!

The cave started off with a big drop, requiring a rope to be set up, and then sprawled into a system of tunnels. Tango and Pearl were very excited to find an entrance to some ancient tombs a couple of hours into the dive. There were stairs leading even deeper underground, which turned out to be an entrance to a bigger cave system, with a huge frozen lake in the middle and an entrance to abandoned mines.

Further symptoms include skin turning pale, graying hair, eyes starting to shift color to red. Previous symptoms remain and intensify.

Tango had always been pale, he had blond hair too, and in the dark it was hard to notice the white streaks in them. The pink cheeks were easily passed as a result of being in the cold. Pearl did express some concerns about Tango's well-being when he started to fall back a bit, but he dismissed it as just him getting tired. By that point Pearl seemed to also have some "frost" in her hair.

After the hair have fully turned white, the tips start to switch color to an unnatural blue. Skin eventually loses color completely, turning gray. Fever intensifies as body desperately tries to fight the infection.

At that point it was impossible to deny that something was wrong with Tango. There are no mirrors underground though, so to him it was just his flu getting out of hand. Guilty of hiding his illness, yes, but nothing critical. The blue hair however were not normal, and the other two were freaking out a bit more than Tango would've hoped for.

They had an argument.

Etho snapped and hit Tango to beat some sense into his stupid head.

By that point Pearl was clearly looking bad too, and Etho's own hair were apparently turning white. They were all feeling terrible, physically and mentally. They decided to head home.

As previously stated, the cave is in fact alive and can sense when something that belongs to it is trying to escape. In an effort to stop it, the whole cave system comes to life. Old animal carcasses rise and start walking, small screeching creatures begin patrolling the tombs, the ice melts and the cave blooms in dangerous ways.

When the crew exited the mines into the second level of the cave system, it was apparent that the way back would be a lot harder. By that point Tango was struggling to stand and Etho had to drop his equipment to carry him. But the fever and the dizziness were making it hard to move fast, the changed layout of the cave was difficult to navigate even with their map, and the way to the surface was still very and very long. It was obvious they couldn't make it out....

Unless they were willing to make some sacrifices.

Etho isn't proud of his decision, but leaving Tango was their only option! He and Pearl still had a chance to escape if they moved quickly, but Tango was just too far gone, he couldn't-- Etho couldn't carry him to the exit, he was getting too tired, and if they all stuck together it would get all three of them killed! Was it not better for at least two of them to survive instead of-

They had another argument.

Pearl stubbornly insisted on taking Tango, so Etho had to lie to her and say that they will come back once they scout out the way. Etho couldn't force himself to look at Tango though, if he did he would be met with this knowing look and he just couldn't bear it. Tango cried when they were leaving.

After the body succumbs to the fever it stays dead for a short period of time, while the rest of the changes set in.

It took a miracle for both Etho and Pearl to reach the tombs, but the hard part came after. Etho did everything in his power to convince Pearl to leave with him, he said they will come back later when they're better prepared, he said it was too late to help Tango, he said it was Tango's own fault, he said many bad things, none of which were enough to change Pearl's mind. She turned back and Etho didn't follow her.

He ran through the tombs and the caves alone, losing his eye to a monster he saw all too late. It was painful and it was disorienting, Etho doesn't even remember how he got to the initial drop they went down, he was panicking and only moving forward because of adrenaline and instinct. The ascend was a fever dream, Etho doesn't know how he didn't fall to his death then.

Through the rush of blood in his head, Etho heard the faint sound of Tango's voice. Too cheery for his feverish condition, and much, much closer, a lot closer than the place they left him to die in. He did not hear Pearl. The sound stopped when it was right under him, and he felt a light tug on the rope he was hanging of. And nothing else happened...

Etho emerged from the cave into the cold night, stumbling over his own feet, too tired to run. Their van was parked over by the entrance and Gem was already waiting for him. Him — shaking, bloody and alone.

...

The body reanimates again, now obedient to the cave's will. It is no longer alive but it is not dead either, frozen, stalking through the tunnels in a mindless haze.

[littlelamy]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮

the night was heavy with anticipation, the kind that pressed against your chest and made your heart race. the dim glow of the bedside lamp bathed rafe’s room in a golden hue, shadows stretching across the walls as you sat on his bed, your legs tucked beneath you. the air between you was thick, electrified, and his presence—tall, broad, and exuding a quiet intensity—felt like gravity pulling you in.

rafe stood at the edge of the bed, his sharp features softened by the vulnerability etched into his expression. his pupils were blown wide, swallowing the icy blue of his eyes, and his brows knitted together in a way that made your stomach twist with need. he looked like a man on the verge of breaking, his desire barely leashed.

“baby,” he rasped, his voice low and rough, like gravel and silk all at once. he raked a hand through his messy hair, his movements tense. “are you sure? i mean… really fucking sure? ‘cause if we do this—if i have you like this—there’s no turning back. you’ll be mine. all mine.”

you swallowed, your throat dry, and nodded. “i’m sure,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly but filled with conviction. “i want you, rafe. i need you.”

his jaw ticked at your words, and for a moment, he didn’t move, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of you. then, like a dam breaking, he surged forward, his knees hitting the mattress as his hands cupped your face. his touch was firm yet tender, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin like he was memorizing the feel of you.

“y/n,” he muttered before his lips crashed into yours. the kiss was searing, his mouth claiming yours with an urgency that sent heat pooling low in your belly. his hands slid down your sides, gripping you tightly as he pulled you closer, pressing you flush against him. your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and the low groan he let out made you shiver.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with awe. “you have no idea how much i want you. how long i’ve wanted this.”

“then take me,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible but filled with need. “please, rafe.”

that was all it took for his restraint to snap. his hands roamed your body, mapping every inch of you as he peeled your clothes away, leaving you bare and vulnerable under his intense gaze. he paused, his eyes raking over you like he was committing every curve, every dip, every freckle to memory.

“jesus christ,” he breathed, his voice shaky. “you’re perfect, baby. absolutely fucking perfect.”

your cheeks flushed under his praise, but before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips and hands trailing over your skin, igniting a fire wherever they touched. when his mouth moved lower, pressing kisses along your stomach and thighs, your breath hitched, your body arching toward him instinctively.

“spread for me, princess,” he murmured, his voice a husky command. “let me see you.”

heat flooded your face, but you obeyed, your thighs parting to reveal yourself to him. his sharp inhale was audible, and when his gaze locked onto your puffy folds, glistening with arousal, his expression darkened with primal hunger.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice strained. “you’re so wet for me. so fucking ready. goddamn, you’re gonna ruin me.”

his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive places. when his tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time, a broken moan escaped your lips. he groaned against you, his voice low and guttural. “you taste like heaven, baby. so sweet. so fucking perfect.”

he didn’t rush, taking his time to explore every inch of you with his mouth, his tongue delving between your folds and teasing your clit until you were a trembling, gasping mess. your hands fisted the sheets, your hips bucking against his face as he worked you over, his groans of satisfaction sending vibrations straight through you.

“fuck, rafe,” you whimpered, your voice breathy and desperate. “i can’t—i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he growled, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “come for me, baby. i wanna taste every fucking drop.”

and you did. your release crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body shaking as he held you down, his mouth relentless as he wrung every last ounce of pleasure from you. when he finally pulled back, his lips glistened with your arousal, and the sight sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

“you’re a fucking dream, baby,” he said, his voice rough as he climbed back up to kiss you. you could taste yourself on his lips, the intimacy of it making your head spin. “but we’re not done yet. not even close.”

he shed the rest of his clothes quickly, and when he settled between your thighs, the weight of him pressed against you, you felt utterly consumed. his cock was thick and hard, and when he slid it through your folds, coating himself in your slickness, you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“you ready, baby?” he asked, his voice gentler now, his eyes searching yours. “i don’t wanna hurt you.”

“i’m ready,” you assured him, your voice trembling with anticipation. “please, rafe.”

with a groan, he pushed inside, inch by inch, stretching you in a way that was both overwhelming and intoxicating. he stilled once he was fully seated, his forehead dropping to yours as he took a shuddering breath.

“shit,” he muttered, his voice strained. “you’re so tight. so fucking perfect.”

you moaned, your hands clutching at his back as you adjusted to the fullness of him. when you nodded, giving him the go-ahead, he began to move, slow and deliberate at first, his thrusts deep and measured. but it didn’t take long for the intensity to build, his pace quickening as he lost himself in you.

“look at me,” he rasped, his voice rough. “i need to see you, baby. need to see how good you’re taking me.”

you locked eyes with him, your breath hitching at the raw hunger and emotion in his gaze. his brows were furrowed, his jaw tight, and his pupils were blown wide, his expression a mix of pleasure and desperation.

“you’re mine,” he growled, his voice thick with possession. “every fucking inch of you is mine.”

“i’m yours,” you gasped, your voice breaking as pleasure surged through you. “and you’re mine, rafe. always.”

the world around you dissolved as the two of you moved together, your bodies and souls completely in sync. it was messy, intense, and utterly perfect, every moan, every gasp, every whispered curse a testament to the depth of your connection.

when it was over, you lay tangled in his arms, your head resting on his chest as his fingers traced lazy circles on your back. he pressed a kiss to your hair, his voice soft and full of contentment as he murmured, “you’re mine, baby. forever.”

“and you’re mine, bubba,” you replied, your voice barely audible as sleep began to pull you under.

the night stretched on, the two of you wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten as your hearts beat in perfect unison.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd d @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah

[blushk1tten]

Ok, imagine you're a guest on Chuckle Sandwich, and the topic of Ted going to every MargaritaVille and the Rainforest Cafe comes up. Then, it turns to how you and Schlatt should go to every (whatever restaurant) in the country as a challenge. At first it was a joke, but then it slowly became something you and Schlatt started planning on. And during the trip, you guys starting getting closer and closer, knowing each other more and more. Where at the point you guys are flirting, touching, kissing, and even to the point you guys have sex.

I can even imagine that during one of the hotel rooms you guys were staying at, you accidentally see Schlatt full body naked. And seeing Schlatt absolutely embarrassed about it, you show Schlatt your naked body to make things even between you two.

i’m sorry this took so long but this prompt had me frothing at the mouth. i hope you enjoy <3

"no, because i loved when you went to every margaritaville and rainforest cafe," you explained to ted as you sat sandwiched between him and schlatt on their podcast. "i've had a similar idea for a while. i want to go to at least one cat cafe in every continental state, and along the way promote some shelters for people to adopt at."

ted raised his eyebrows curiously. "really? that sounds pretty cool. maybe you should take schlatt with you, since he's a lonely cat man and all."

"ignoring the fact that having two cats does not make me a lonely cat man," schlatt shot back at ted. "that sounds like a cool idea. i know there's plenty of cats like jambo and the other guy who need adopted."

you couldn't help but laugh a bit. "maybe ted's right. you sound pretty passionate about it for a totally not lonely cat man. you could come with me, and not be so lonely."

"fine!"

with that final word from schlatt, you had accidentally and officially locked yourself into the trip with him. he began to help you research cat cafes and shelters in every state, and helped you to plan the road trip map as well. that was only the start of the two of you getting closer. on the trip, it was a whole different thing.

"let's play twenty-one questions!" you suggested after leaving the cat cafe in austin, heading for your hotel and the next one in louisiana. after all, you had a roughly eight hour drive ahead of you.

schlatt scoffed, looking over at you. "isn't that a game for teenagers tryin' t' date someone?"

"no," you protested back. "it's for people to get to know each other better! i'll go first if you're going to be a dick. what's your favorite animal other than cats?"

he paused for a minute, then admitted his answer in a gruff voice. "bearded dragons. i used t’ have one when i was younger. he was a chill dude."

"see, that's nice, and i learned something new about you," you gave him a small smile. "now you ask me a question."

"are you a virgin?"

"schlatt! i'm not answering that."

the game continued to go similarly, with you asking genuine questions to get to know schlatt, while he asked raunchier questions to poke fun at you and get under your skin. about halfway through your journey though, you gave in, and began to answer him.

"what's your biggest turn on?"

"any kind of intimate touch."

he raised his eyebrows, surprised that he finally got an answer. "intimate touch? what does that mean?"

you could feel your face grow hot as you tried to explain. "any touch from a partner of mine, even if it's casual."

"even if they, like, shake your hand?"

that eased the tension, and you burst out into laughter as you shook your head. "okay, maybe not any touch."

with each leg of the trip, the two of you learned more about each other and grew closer. about halfway through the trip though, was when things began to heat up between the two of you. it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to flirt or use pet names with the other.

“hey, toots,” he called to you, keeping his voice quiet so he didn’t startle the cats. “look at this one. i think it likes me.”

you couldn’t but giggle from your spot on the floor, where a gaggle of cats and kittens had been swarming you for affection. throughout your trip, you had come to find that most of the cats preferred you to schlatt. some found his large stature imposing, while others just didn’t like men, so it was a special moment whenever any cats would come up to him. this time, it was an old, graying tabby, purring loudly from its spot on schlatt’s lap.

“the first time you’ve ever gotten pussy in your life, big guy?” you teased, standing up and moving to sit beside him.

“oh, fuck you,” he scoffed softly, though he looked at you with a smile. “he just knows i’m the better person out of us. look, he’s not interested in you at all.”

it was true. the cat was completely content with schlatt and paying no attention to you. meanwhile, you couldn’t help but pay attention to schlatt. with a soft smile on his face as he scratched the cat’s chin and back, he looked endearing. dare you say it, he looked handsome. you couldn’t help it when you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

schlatt stopped petting the cat instantly, looking at you with surprise in his brown eyes. then, after a moment, he spoke up. “you missed.”

this time, you could feel the surprise on your face as he leaned in again and kissed you on your lips, soft and tender. it wasn’t until the cat on schlatt’s lap meowed in displeasure at the lack of pets that you broke apart.

“i’ll— i’ll edit that out.” you stammered, glancing at the various cameras you had set up while schlatt resumed petting the cat.

“yeah,” he nodded, a light blush on his cheeks. “that sounds good.”

from that point on, flirting and pet names came with the addition of kisses. sometimes they happened on camera in the cat cafes, while other times one of you would invite the other over to their hotel room for a heated makeout session. soon enough though, the trip was coming to an end. you only had a few more cat cafes left before the road trip was over. that would mean an end to the flirting, the pet names, and the kisses that managed to steal your breath each time.

you were thinking about it forlornly as you headed to schlatt’s hotel room, hoping for a nice makeout session to cheer you up. he had actually given you the extra key, so you didn’t think twice as you swiped the card and opened his door. however, you didn’t even make it a step in before you noticed schlatt, completely nude with his bath towel in hand.

“oh my god!” you exclaimed, catching his attention as well.

the last thing you saw before turning on your heel and slamming the door was a glimpse of something massive between his thighs, heat filling your face as you ran back to your own room. you had no idea how you would address that incident, nor did you know if you wanted to. the flirting, pet names, and kissing was one thing, but seeing him naked and anything beyond that was something else.

eventually, you heard the buzz of a keycard opening up your room, though you kept your gaze firmly on the floor as you sat at the end of your bed.

“doll,” schlatt spoke up after a moment. “i’m not mad at you or anything. i gave you a keycard t’ my room so you could come whenever you wanted. i should’ve changed in the bathroom or said somethin’ when i heard the door.”

you shook your head, hoping that any embarrassment on your face was gone as you looked up. “no, jay, it’s my fault. i should’ve knocked before coming in.”

he sat down next to you on the bed. “we both could’ve done stuff differently, but hey, shit happens.”

you nodded, the wheels in your brain turning. you wanted to make it up to him somehow. then, it hit you. the best— or possibly the worst— idea that you had ever had. “i could get naked and let you see to make up for it.”

schlatt went silent for a moment, staring at you as if you had just spoken another language. “what?”

“i’m serious,” you told him. “i got to see you, so you should get to see me. then, we’ll be even.”

his throat bobbed as he swallowed. then, he nodded. “well, toots, better get to it.”

with that, you stood up and began to strip, first pulling off your top, then tugging your shorts down. the whole time, you could feel your heart pounding. you’d gotten naked in the past for others, but something about doing it for schlatt, the same schlatt you’d been growing feelings for, felt different. still, you continued, taking off your bra and underwear as well until you were finally naked in front of him. schlatt’s first words were the same as yours.

“oh my god, doll,” he took a sharp breath as he looked you over, his eyes beginning to smolder with lust. “you look perfect. like everything i’ve imagined and more.”

you couldn’t help but blush, though you were a bit surprised as well. “what do you mean everything you’ve imagined?”

schlatt blinked, his lust fading in confusion. “doll, you have t’ know how much i want ya by now, i just— i didn’t want t’ make you uncomfortable, so i took what i could get.”

“what do you mean when you say you want me?”

“platonically, sexually, romantically. whatever i can get.”

it felt like a weight came off your shoulders when schlatt said that, and you couldn’t help but smile as you walked forward to sit on his lap. “what about all of the above?”

he nodded, then like so many other times, he leaned in to kiss you. this time though, it was different, full of a special kind of passion that came with knowing your feelings were reciprocated. of course, there was also the fact that you were completely naked in schlatt’s lap, his hands running over every inch of skin he could reach.

“jay,” you whined between kisses. “wanna fuck you.”

“fuck, hold on, doll. lemme get my clothes off and get you prepped.”

he didn't take long in stripping, allowing you to finally get a good look at his body. that included his long, thick cock, hanging heavy between his thighs and curving slightly to the left.

"how is that supposed to fit?" you mumbled quietly to yourself, though schlatt chuckled as he heard.

"don't worry, doll," he promised, moving down and pressing a kiss to your clit. "i'll make sure you're nice and wet f' me."

you couldn't help but gasp as he dived in, your fingers tangling in his hair as he ate your pussy like it was his last meal. his own fingers were busy playing with your clit, as he drank up the slick coming from your cunt. "jay!"

schlatt moved and pressed a kiss to your clit before pulling back with a grin, switching to sliding two fingers in your pussy. "c'mon, doll. we're just getting started,"

a high-pitched whine left your mouth, and your back arched as he began to search for the spot that would make you fall apart. it didn't take long either, his grin growing as you called out for him again. "there it is. that's my pretty girl, soakin' my fuckin' fingers. are you gonna cum, baby?"

you nodded, crying out as he began to suck your clit as well. it was your undoing, and you quickly reached your orgasm as he continued to pump his fingers. "i'm cumming, jay! i'm cumming!"

he pulled off and gently pulled his fingers out, face shining slightly with your slick. "good girl. did that feel okay?"

once again, you nodded, panting for breath. "felt amazing."

schlatt leaned in to kiss you, a string of slick connecting your lips as he pulled back. you both laughed, and he pulled back further to break it. "so, are you ready for the rest?"

"yes please," you murmured, him carefully getting into position over you. "just be gentle."

"i promise." he replied, leaning in again to give you a quick kiss before he pushed in.

despite how wet and open you felt, schlatt was big enough that it was a stretch. your nails dug into his back, and you couldn't stop the whimper that escaped you. "oh my god, oh my god—"

he stopped for a minute, looking down at you in concern. still, you could see how hard he was working to keep still. "you okay, doll?"

"just give me a minute. your dick is fucking massive."

the two of you stayed in silence, each trying not to move until you finally gave the go ahead. this time, as schlatt finished pushing in and began to move, you could feel pleasure starting to run up your spine.

"feeling better?" he grinned, his smug attitude beginning to return as the pleasure was clear on your face.

"mhm," you agreed, beginning to roll your hips in time with his thrusts. "feeling a lot better— fuck!"

he adjusted your position into a mating press, making it so you could hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he thrust in, and let out a groan. "fuck, doll. your pussy's so wet f' me. gonna pump you full of cum, get ya even more slick,"

you couldn't help but whimper, clenching around his cock at that statement and making him chuckle a bit. "you like that idea? me fillin' you up with all my cum, gettin' your tummy all round?"

"please," you begged with a sob, making him pick up his pace with another groan. "please breed me, jay!"

"shit, doll, is that it? you want me to make you a mama?"

you nodded, drunk with pleasure. "mhm, please, jay. need your cum so bad."

"you'll get it doll," he grunted, moving his hand down to your clit as well. "just give me a minute. want you to cum too."

sure enough, it didn't take much longer for schlatt's thrusts to grow sloppy and his breathing to grow ragged. "you ready, baby?"

"yes, jay," you moaned, back arching once again as you felt your orgasm building. "gonna cum!"

"then cum, doll. need you to cum so i can give you a baby." he grunted, fingers continuing to dexterously play with your clit.

that was all it took for you to peak, tumbling over the edge with a cry. you could feel yourself milking schlatt as you came, causing him to cum shortly after. you couldn't help but feel tears prick at your eyes from the full feeling. it was everything you could have dreamt of with schlatt and more.

he helped you clean up afterwards, gentle and caring, before snuggling with you in bed.

"so," he eventually murmured, playing with your hair. "we're going to keep this up for the rest of the trip, and even after, right?"

you smiled softly, cuddling closer to him and giving him a kiss. "i think we'll be doing this for a long time to come."

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - Poisoned Love

Summary - In a match born of duty, Aegon swore he'd never love—but fate had other plans. Passion ignites, turning to a love so fierce it defies their world, only to be shattered by a cruel betrayal that tests the very soul.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2711 

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Love was never part of the plan. 

From the very first moment, Aegon had railed against the idea of the match his parents arranged—a calculated alliance, devoid of romance and brimming with obligation. He had sworn not to be a pawn in their schemes. 

But fate, with its penchant for irony, was relentless. 

Against the tide of his own resistance, Aegon found himself falling—slowly at first, then all at once—into a love so profound that it threatened to consume him entirely.

Hopelessly. Tragically. Unstoppably in love.

"So, my love, why exactly must we attend this feast when I have you in such a serene position?" His voice was a rich, teasing purr, the words sending sparks of heat skittering across my skin. 

The flickering light of the candles cast shadows on the walls, softening the sharp angles of his face, yet it couldn't dim the intensity of his gaze. 

His fingertips traced idle circles along my hips, their warmth seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. With a gentle tug, he pulled me closer, his breath mingling with mine.

I tilted my head back to look at him, a playful smirk on my lips. 

"Serene, is it?" I countered, raising a brow. "I didn't realize being at your mercy was so... calming." My words were light, but my pulse quickened as his eyes darkened with desire.

"Oh, it is," he whispered, a smile curving his lips as if I had unknowingly handed him a victory. 

"Serene, because it gives me the perfect vantage to appreciate you." He leaned down, his mouth brushing the hollow of my throat, lingering long enough to draw out a soft gasp. His lips moved lower, each kiss deliberate, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. 

"And," he continued, voice huskier now, "it allows me to do this." His hands slid slowly, reverently, beneath my skirts, fingertips grazing bare skin. 

The anticipation alone sent a shiver coursing down my spine.

For a moment, I tried to hold on to a shred of propriety. "Aegon, we have to—" The rest of my sentence disintegrated into a breathless sigh as he pressed his body against mine. 

The world beyond these four walls faded, leaving only the heat between us. His name became a prayer on my lips, a whisper that carried all the longing and need I had been trying to suppress.

"We have time," he murmured, his lips ghosting over mine. "Just enough to make this moment ours." His words, laced with promise, made my resolve crumble. 

He kissed me slowly, with an intensity that made my toes curl. Time stretched out as I melted into him, savouring each caress, each breath, each shared heartbeat.

When he drew back, it was only to study my face—his eyes tracing every curve as though trying to commit it to memory. 

He brushed a thumb over my cheek, then lower, tracing my jaw and down the column of my neck. His touch was light, reverent. 

He leaned in once more, this time catching my lips in a kiss that was deep and unhurried as if he had all the time in the world to taste and explore.

He lifted me gently, laying me back onto the softness of the bed, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. 

Our movements were slow, languid as if savouring every second. 

His hands roamed, mapping familiar territory but treating it like uncharted ground, and I arched into his touch, needing more of him, more of this.

He smiled against my lips, sensing my impatience. 

"Patience, my love," he teased, trailing kisses down my collarbone, taking his time. 

Each touch, each press of his lips and whisper of his breath against my skin left me trembling. I ran my fingers through his hair, desperate to ground myself as desire built within me.

At last, he met my gaze again, and the look in his eyes made me feel as if nothing else in the world mattered. 

"You are everything," he said softly, a confession that left me breathless. He moved then, slowly, achingly so, guiding our bodies together. 

The sensation was overwhelming; a slow burn that built intensified with every motion.

"Aegon," I breathed, my hands clutching at his shoulders as he set a rhythm that was both torturously slow and deeply satisfying. 

He shifted slightly, finding that perfect angle, and I bit down on my lip to stifle a cry. 

Every thrust sent pleasure radiating through me, a tide that rose higher with every touch, every whispered endearment.

"Let me hear you," he urged, his voice low and rough. His thumb traced the edge of my bottom lip, a gentle pressure that sent sparks skittering down my spine. 

I gave in, letting him hear every sigh, every soft moan that escaped. The intimacy of it—the closeness, the vulnerability—was almost too much to bear.

He held me as we moved together, his touch firm but tender. 

My senses were overwhelmed: the press of his body, the weight of his gaze, the way his breath hitched when I responded to his touch. 

I felt myself spiralling higher, pulled inexorably toward release.

When it finally came, it was like shattering into a thousand pieces. I clung to him, calling out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over me. 

His own climax followed, and he held me tighter, as if afraid to let go. For a moment, we were both suspended in that perfect, breathless stillness.

Slowly, he withdrew, his touch still gentle, almost reverent. 

"My pretty wife," he murmured, the words a soft caress against my skin. He reached for a cloth to clean us, his movements tender and unhurried. 

He rearranged my skirts, his fingers lingering as he smoothed the fabric.

"I cannot wait for the day you carry my child," he whispered, a hopeful smile curving his lips. The thought made my heart ache with both joy and trepidation.

I felt my cheeks warm, the secret I held threatening to spill forth. But instead, I met his gaze and smiled. 

"Soon," I said softly, kissing his cheek. 

With a deep breath, I slipped from the bed and took his hand, leading him toward the feast in the great hall, the promise of our future shimmering between us.

We moved together through the grand feast, weaving our way past the gathered lords and ladies, exchanging greetings and nods. 

The hall buzzed with life—laughter mingling with clinking goblets and the melodies of minstrels perched on the dais. Black and crimson banners hung from the high stone walls, flickering in the torchlight, casting shifting patterns over the revelry. 

Yet, despite the opulence around me, I felt a growing heaviness in my limbs.

My feet throbbed with each step, a dull ache creeping up my calves. The hours dragged on, and an unsettling churn took root in my stomach, as though the venison I had forced down earlier was a beast clawing to escape. 

I pressed a hand to my midsection, hoping to calm the storm.

"Aegon, I don't feel well," I murmured, barely able to keep my voice steady. Within moments, he was at my side, guiding me away from the throng with a gentleness that belied his imposing presence. 

He led me to a cushioned chair, his touch firm but tender.

"What troubles you?" he asked, his voice low and laced with concern. He brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, his fingers lingering at my temple. 

His gaze pierced mine, searching for answers I was not ready to give.

I swallowed hard, struggling to mask the truth that threatened to spill from me. 

How could I tell him? How could I reveal that every ache in my body, every wave of nausea, was more than fatigue from the night? 

That I carried a secret, nestled deep within, stirring with every heartbeat?

Before I could summon an answer, a shadow fell over us. I turned, and Aegon shifted, his hand instinctively resting on my arm. 

A man stood before us, his presence both familiar and foreboding.

"Lord Darry," I said, my voice tighter than I intended. He regarded me with a smile that never touched his eyes—a smile I remembered all too well. 

It was the same expression he had worn in my father's halls, where harsh words and sharper glances had been exchanged between our houses. 

The rivalry between House Darry and my kin was a bitter one, more entrenched than even the long-standing feud of Blackwood and Bracken. 

Marrying into the Targaryen family had done little to soften those wounds.

"My lady," Lord Darry intoned, his words slow and deliberate as if testing their weight. "Or should I address you as 'Princess' now?" 

His laugh was light, a mocking echo that resonated beneath the surface pleasantries.

I clenched my jaw, forcing a polite smile. "Whatever pleases you, my lord," I replied evenly, determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. 

Aegon's posture stiffened beside me, his protective instincts flaring. I placed a hand on his arm, a silent plea for restraint. This was not the time or place for old grievances to be rekindled.

"Is there something you require, Lord Darry?" I asked, keeping my voice calm. 

Beneath the mask of civility, I could feel the pulse of history—a history filled with blood and betrayal—stretching taut between us. 

Lord Darry's smile widened, his eyes narrowing as he took a small step closer. 

"No," he said softly, the false warmth in his voice barely concealing something darker. "I merely wished to ensure you are well. You appear... pale."

His smile, a blade hidden beneath velvet, never reached his eyes. "Pale, indeed," he murmured, as though tasting the words. "The Targaryen court must be... exhausting."

I forced myself to hold his gaze, my stomach twisting tighter. "I am just a little unwell," I replied, striving for a lightness I did not feel. 

My words came out brittle, a thin veneer of composure over the turmoil within.

"Ah," Lord Darry said, his expression one of exaggerated concern. 

He reached for a nearby goblet and filled it from a nearby pitcher. The water gleamed in the torchlight, a deceptive mirror to the innocence he feigned. 

"Please, take this. It will help," he insisted, pressing the cool metal into my trembling hands.

I hesitated. There was something in his gaze that set my nerves alight, some unspoken malice that I couldn't shake. 

But the eyes of those around us were upon me, and refusing his offer would be seen as a slight—a provocation. 

Reluctantly, I raised the goblet to my lips and drank. The water was cold, the taste clean, but an icy dread settled deep within my chest.

"Thank you, my lord," I managed, my voice thin. Lord Darry bowed with a flourish, his smile never wavering. 

"Rest well, Princess," he murmured, before disappearing into the crowd, leaving only the faintest scent of his oils and the weight of a promise unspoken.

Moments stretched into a cruel eternity. Aegon's voice reached me through a haze, his words distorted, as if carried from some distant shore. 

His hands were warm against my shoulders, anchoring me to the here and now, but the world had begun to tilt, a spinning blur of noise and light.

I tried to focus, to hold on to something solid, but my breath caught in my throat, and an overwhelming wave of dizziness sent me reeling. 

I clung to him, desperate, as the edges of my vision darkened, shadows closing in.

"Something's wrong," I gasped, my fingers digging into his arms as though he could pull me back from the abyss. 

Panic flared in his eyes—an intensity I had rarely seen, raw and unguarded. My mouth flooded with warmth, metallic and bitter. I tasted blood before I saw it, crimson spilling down my chin.

"Poison," I whispered, barely audible. The word hung in the air like a death knell.

"No," Aegon breathed, a plea more than a denial. He gripped me tighter as if he could hold back the inevitable by sheer will. 

"Stay with me," he begged, voice cracking, his desperation slicing through the haze. He guided me down, his movements careful, his touch reverent, lowering me onto the cold stone floor as chaos erupted around us.

The sounds of the feast faded—distant shouts, the pounding of footsteps—but all that mattered was him. 

I saw his face above mine, his features carved in anguish, his eyes searching mine for answers, for hope.

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, blurring his face. I had so little time. My heart thundered in my chest, every beat a cruel reminder of what was slipping away. 

I needed him to know—I needed him to understand.

"Aegon," I managed, each breath a struggle. "There's something... I have to tell you." Pain rippled through me, but I forced the words out. "I'm... I'm with child."

The realization struck him like a blow. His breath caught, his face crumpling with grief that cut deeper than any blade. 

He drew me closer, his eyes wide with shock, disbelief, and a helpless sorrow that broke my heart all over again. For a moment, he was silent, his lips moving soundlessly as if struggling to comprehend. 

When he spoke, his voice was low, trembling. "You'll be alright," he insisted as if saying it would make it true. "You have to be."

I felt the sting of tears on my cheeks, mingling with blood. "I don't... want to die," I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of fear. "I'm scared, Aegon. I'm so scared."

He pressed his forehead to mine, his tears falling onto my skin. 

"I'm here," he swore, his words fierce, desperate. "I won't leave you. I love you." The confession hung between us, raw and unvarnished.

His grip tightened, his hand trembling around mine as if he could hold me here by force alone. I felt the warmth of his touch begin to fade, and with it, my strength. 

The pain surged, twisting in my chest, a reminder of every breath I was losing. Around us, the world blurred, but I focused on his face—the desperate lines of his jaw, the tears streaking down his cheeks. 

The sight of his anguish was a dagger to my heart.

"I'm with child," I repeated, my voice weaker now, barely a breath. The words, once a promise of life, became a cruel taunt—a cruel joke played by fate. 

I watched the hope that flickered in his eyes shatter, leaving behind nothing but raw, unbridled grief.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head as if he could deny reality itself. "You can't—" His voice cracked, a jagged sound that tore through me. "You can't leave me. Not now. Not like this."

"I don't want to," I managed, my chest tightening with every word. I tried to reach for him, but my strength was gone. "I wanted... I wanted to see them. Our child. I wanted—" 

The rest was swallowed by a sob, my body trembling in his arms.

"Please," he begged, the mighty prince reduced to nothing more than a man pleading with the gods. "Don't go. Fight. For me. For us."

The pain sharpened, and I knew there was no fighting this. Death had its claws in me, dragging me down.

His forehead pressed against mine, his tears mixing with my blood. "I love you," he said, his voice fierce but laced with despair. "I love you. I should have told you every day. I should have—"

His hands cupped my face, his touch both a comfort and a cruel reminder of everything slipping away. "No," he said, his voice a broken echo. "We still have time."

But time was a lie, slipping like sand through his fingers. I drew in one last ragged breath, each heartbeat a hammering drum of finality. 

My vision dimmed, the world receding, and in those last moments, I saw him—just him. 

Grief-stricken, helpless. And I hated it. I hated that he had to bear this weight. That he would have to live with this cruelty, to carry our love as a scar.

Darkness took me, cold and unrelenting, and the last thing I heard was his scream—raw, animalistic, echoing in a world that no longer had room for the life we had dreamed of. 

The gods had been cruel. Fate had been cruel. And love... love was the cruellest of all.

A/n - I feel cruel xx

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the pained peace treaty

fused with the foe, chapter one

a/n: oh wow, i have no idea how to introduce this beast of a story except to say hi, hello, welcome! i really hope you enjoy this story, as well as the rest of the trilogy, idk if i've ever gone as in depth and all out with any story as i have with these.

summary: “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, abusive father (like super bad. he is a garbage person), wedding, blood, injury

word count: 4813

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“Your majesty, I must warn you, if, gods forbid, our people come to discover the great lengths you’ve been willing to go in this disagreement over the past two decades, they might start an uprising. And if you keep going, then it’ll turn into a full-blown war and you know our kingdom wouldn’t be able to survive that, not with them. Our city’s walls may be high, high enough to keep out any beasts that may wander this far south, but it wouldn’t keep them out. You know better than most how people from Eflorr are. If you don’t wanna lose your crown, one way or another, then I’d strongly advise that we come up with some peace treaty.”

“I know, I know…” King Ivan leaned back in his gilded throne with a huff, the quality of his voice was as thin as his towering frame, “a trade I think should suffice.”

A different advisor then timidly pipped up, “but our mines ran cold ages ago, what could we possibly offer that would be satisfactory?”

Not lifting his cold gaze, the king stared at a fixed spot on the marble floor as he said, “I know one thing the king lacks that we may be able to provide for him… a wife.”

“A wife–,” both of the men’s eyes grew wide, “but do you mean–, your majesty, she is your only daughter, are you certain this is the fate you want her to have? Those people are barbaric! If one of the dangers that rule the north doesn’t get to her first, one of their citizens surely will. Sire, what if history repeats itself?”

“Then let it do so. In fact, perhaps this could have been her purpose all along and I just didn’t realise it. Couldn’t see past my own rage to grasp how useful she actually could be…”

Sharing a nervous glance, one of the advisors asked, “should we send for her? See if she agrees with the plans?”

“No, I’ll tell her when the time is right. Wouldn’t want her to do anything stupid and ruin the one good thing she could ever provide,” finally lifting his stony gaze, the king commanded, “make the arrangements, I’ll see to it that she doesn’t ruin it.” 

Deep within the opulent halls of the gilded palace, standing grand and safe behind Ingorn’s tall city walls, twisting up towards the clouds, up in a window in the western tower, there you sat. 

Book in your lap, you leaned back against the small pillow you’d propped behind you to make the wide windowsill more comfortable. Small paper butterflies hung from strings above and some dangled so low that the childhood craft that still decorated your window trickled the crown of your head. Flipping the page, your fingertips brushed down over the illustration that appeared in the agricultural tome you’d found in one of your brothers’ rooms. 

As long as you put it back before Angus returned then you’d probably be good. And if he were to somehow notice, then as long as he didn’t rat you out to your father then it would be alright. Both Angus and a few of the others that were closer to your age, Oliver and Francis respectively, were always a bit of a gamble whether or not they would do such a thing. They didn’t always have the same spirit as the eldest pair of your older brothers, Xavier and Callum. 

You missed them so much your heart ached. The older they got, the longer their diplomatic missions seemed to stretch out, making the quiet palace that much more lonely in your solitude. 

A knock then suddenly boomed at your door, causing you to jump edgily in your seat before you slammed the book shut and nervously stuffed it behind the firm pillow. 

“Come in!” you called out, swiftly straightening out your dress that had crumbled around your legs at the comfortable seat. As the door to your room slammed open, the figure that stood in it caught you by surprise, “Father–, oh, hello,” you straightened your posture that much further at his arrival. 

Skipping over any niceties, King Ivan simply stated, “you need to pack up your stuff.”

Your brows knitted into a fierce furrow, “what?”

“Not everything, of course,” he cast a cold glance around the room though didn’t take a step to enter it, “just the things you are particularly attached to.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your head lightly shook from side to side, “where am I going?”

When his eyes finally gave you the time of day, it swiftly dropped to the floor as a heavy sigh flowed from his lips, “why do you have to be the spitting image of her…” the muttering was unfortunately just loud enough for your ears to catch. His disappointment was always just loud enough for your ears to catch. When he entered the room and you moved to get up, he swiftly said, “stay seated, Y/n,” before he planted himself next to you on the wide windowsill, “now, everything is already set into motion, so we don’t have time for any of your theatrics,” not looking you in the eye, he frostily told you, “you are to be married. A carriage has just arrived a few minutes ago to pick you up and transport you to Eflorr.”

“To Eflorr?” your gaze grew wide, “you wish for me to marry someone there?”

“Not just someone, you are to marry their king.”

“I–… I–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly beneath your rosy dress, “but father, you can’t–, I can’t go live with the people who killed mom.”

“We don’t know if they actually murdered her. But I do know that you did,” his glare locked upon you as he let himself seethe, “if you hadn’t been born then she’d still be alive,” the fact that the only thing he blamed more for his late wife’s untimely demise then the kingdom she’d perished in was you, remained a point that the sovereign had never been shy about sharing with you for as long as you could recall, “your duty is to protect and serve this land, this crown,” your eyes naturally fluttered up to gaze at the twisted gold balanced upon his head, “if you don’t go through with this, then those savages will come pillage and ruin your home. You are, regrettably, the very last hope this kingdom has of survival. You have no choice, Y/n. This marriage is the only thing that can stop a war we would never survive,” exhaling slowly, he then dominantly nodded in a concluding fashion, “pack your stuff, you have an hour.”

You felt tears sting your eyes as your bottom lip quivered, “an hour? But–, can’t we wait at least a few days before I leave? Can’t I get a chance to say goodbye to at least one of my brothers? None of them are home yet.”

Regret instantly washed over you as your father’s nostrils flared angrily. Seizing your arm in a bruising grip, he yanked you close as he hissed, “you listen, and you listen carefully, you little brat. You have been the bane of my existence ever since you took your first breath. You took away the love of my life. You don’t deserve a goodbye, you don’t deserve anything. Do you think I got a goodbye when your mother suddenly went into labour on that diplomatic mission? No. All I got was you. Not another son, but a living, breathing reminder of what I lost that day,” your eyes squeezed shut as your cheek tingled at the memory of his strikes, “now, be a good girl and go wet his prick, give him a few babies, do anything he’d fucking please, so that him and his barbaric army doesn’t come here and slaughter everything you know and love.”

“Your highness, are you cold?” the high-ranking warden sitting across from you in the carriage noticed the shiver that your body couldn’t seem to shake. 

Tearing your eyes off of the scenery along The Emerald Path that the narrow window granted you a view of, you glanced back at the warrior. The brown hair he had practically tied off at the base of his neck blossomed into a dark beard. A bare palm clasped over an inked one in his lap as you met his gaze and said, “no, I’m–…” in truth, you were scared, so scared that you were trembling like a leaf, but you couldn’t tell the foreign king’s advisor that, too much weighted on your shoulders, you couldn’t screw this up, “no,” glancing back out of the window, you only stared a moment at the sparse cottages that slowly came into view on the rolling hills before you turned your head again and let the nauseating nerves control your words, “pardon me, Barnes, is it?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“Sir, how much further till we get there?” your quiet voice echoed within the carriage, “it’s just–, it’s been days.”

“Oh, not long at all,” he shook his head lightly, “actually,” the knight leaned forward in his seat and cast his glance outside, “if you look out the window now, right there,” a small smile tugged at his lips as his finger shot up to point, “that river, that means we’re getting close to Borün city.”

As the river then suddenly curved before the dirt road, the clomping hooves of the horses that hauled the coach resonated as they trotted over a stone bridge. 

Twisting your head, you glanced out to your right and spotted farmlands curve over the rolling hills that swiftly blossomed into thickets and towering flora you’d only assume was the southern perimeter of The Noll Woods. Books about this kingdom had been banned in your homeland for as long as you could remember, but even though you were essentially going in blind, you still weren’t completely ignorant when it came to the dangers that called that sprawling forest its home, not that you were an expert in the slightest, but your brothers had from time to time told you tales of the monsters who dominated in this part. From giant and twisted insect-like creatures, to mischievous pixies, to even the rare dragon, those stories had always been your favourite. Apart from the rare occasion where Callum would share stories with you about your mother. Being the eldest, he was the only one who truly remembered her. 

Instinctively, your fingers fluttered up to fiddle with the opalescent stone that hung from a chain around your neck. In the middle of the milky jewel was a small rune engraved into it. You had no idea what it meant, but your fingers had still traced the carving countless of times before as it had hung from your neck for as long as you could recall. It hadn’t been till you were a ways into your teens that you’d come to discover that it had belonged to your mother. 

Casting your glance out the other side as you passed a tall watchtower, behind the wide city stables unfolded a port town so quaint that it surprised you. Over the small valley of gabled roofs towered a central tree, and beyond all of that, the sparkle of the sea caught your eye, a sight you’d never beheld before, haven not only stemmed from a landlocked metropolis, but also not haven been permitted to leave your room as much as your heart had desired. 

“This is Eflorr?” you asked as the carriage began to roll up the winding path to the stone castle that loomed on the cliff, granting you a new view of how the river that you’d crossed slid through the city and spilt into the ocean.

“This is Eflorr, your highness,” the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of how wide your curious eyes were. 

“It’s–… it’s–…” your stare danced over the lush ivy that climbed the solid towers, “not what I expected…”

“What did you expect?”

Tearing your gaze away from the window, you blinked, “oh, I didn’t mean–,” suddenly worried that your shock had come out sounding rude, “I just–… I don’t know a lot about this land,” in the few tales you’d heard about this place, there had been a running gag that the people of Eflorr had lived so close to the dangerous beasts that called this part of the continent their home that they too had turned into monsters, “it’s just different than I imagined.” 

Ascending the jagged hill and passing through the front gate, it opened up into a wide courtyard before you felt the carriage finally roll to a stop. 

The wagon creaked gently as Barnes stepped out first, though when his boots were firmly on the cobblestone, his frame twisted as he reached an outstretched hand back for you to grasp in support of your own exit. Ever so apprehensively, you slid your own palm into his as your other twisted in your long skirts before you slipped out of the carriage. 

Letting go of his gasp, the soldier's low timbre washed over you as your head tilted back to take in the vast stronghold, “his majesty, unfortunately, couldn’t be here for your arrival as there was a bit of a dryad problem further up north he had to take care of,” you gaze tore away from the fort and fell upon him, “but I assure you he should be back in time for the wedding.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed, unsure if that fact made you feel better or worse about the entire predicament.

“If you’d like, I can give you a brief tour of the castle,” he offered as he led you towards the main entrance into the castle proper, “or if you’re exhausted after the journey, then I can just show you directly up to your chambers.”

Offering him a polite smile, you nodded, “a tour would be lovely, thank you.”

He only briefly went over the buildings surrounding the courtyard you’d entered into, as they were mainly designed as barracks and various other facilities for the local wardens, though the horses that stuck their heads out of the royal stalls in the corner did catch your eye before you moved on inside. 

Barnes’ voice echoed in most of the chambers he showed you in the castle’s western wing. The vast stained-glass windows that were in the ballroom for instance took your breath away as you saw how the light streamed through them and warmed up the room with glittering little rays of colour. 

Behind the great halls, squeezed in between and connecting the two major parts of the fort, there you crossed through a much more quiet and lush courtyard. The pebble paths that curved around the central fountain too curled around various topiary bushes that were trimmed to perfection like living sculptures. 

Though as your guide showed you the eastern wing that crested over the foaming sea below, your curiosity got the better of you. 

“Hey, Barnes?”

Slowing his leisurely stride, he tilted his head slightly, “yes, your highness?”

“What are dryads?” your brows knit lightly together, “you mentioned there was a problem with them, but what are they?”

“You don’t know?” he glanced over at you, clearly trying to mask his surprise as you shook your head, “oh, well, they are forest spirits, nymphs,” he explained as you roamed deeper down a broad hallway on the second floor, passing many private chambers both to your right and your left, “it’s not uncommon for them to wander and bother the folks who live further up the coast. Have you never encountered one? They are not as uncommon in Obelón as most of the other creatures that thrive this far north.”

“No, I’ve never seen one…” you shook your head as a low sigh flowed from your lips, “never really seen anything…”

“Not much of an outdoorsy person?” he guessed in a light-hearted tone. 

Forcing a smile, you replied, “you could say that…” as you hadn’t been allowed to be one even if you wanted to. Passing a set of double doors that stood wide open, the sight inside made you halt your steps, “is this the library?”

Shadowing you as your feet crossed the threshold, he nodded, “yes, it is,” then pointed back over his shoulder, “and your quarters are right down that hall.”

Numerous grand bookcases stood lined up all the way down to where a tall window allowed the sunlight in and let it stream through the rows. 

“Can I–… would it be alright if I read some of them?” 

“Of course, your highness.” 

“Would you mind showing me which ones I’m allowed to read?” you briefly peeked back at him as a bubble of anxiety fluttered in your belly, “I don’t wanna accidentally read something that I’m not allowed to.”

Barnes then blinked back at you a moment before he uttered, “your highness, you can read each and every one of them if you’d like. Why wouldn’t you be allowed to read whatever you wish? They are yours after all, or will be after the wedding,” the corners of your lips twitched upwards as he then asked, “would you like to peruse the titles now or do you want to see your chambers?”

“Oh, uhm,” you tore your gaze away from the tomes and turned back, “I’ll look later.”

“Alright,” he nodded, extending his inked arm to show you the way. As he pushed the heavy wooden door open to the room at the very end of the hall, his voice rang out once more, “this is the peacock suite,” following him inside, he settled to a stop near the exit for you to explore the space on your own, “you can, of course, change anything you’d like for it to match your taste.”

“Thank you,” you breathed as you slowly made your way deeper into the chamber. It was gently divided with a more formal area towards the front where both tufted couches and a crackling fireplace stood, as well as a set of doors that opened up to a quaint balcony. Towards the left, under a swirling archway, twisted a broad canopy bed up towards the tall ceilings, warm with blankets and furs, and in the corner, by a breezy partition, stood a deep cobber bathtub.

Haven not noticed that he’d moved, you then heard as Barnes creaked the doors to a close, “if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be right outside.”

With a loud creak, the heavy double doors opened before you and revealed the grand hall. As soft music gushed out, you nearly didn’t recognise the space from your tour the other day as it was now decorated with vibrant flowers and flowing banners that dropped down from the high ceilings above, as well as being completely packed with a swarm of people. A thin path parted the giddy crowd right down the middle towards the opposing grand door that guards opened simultaneously to yours. 

A shaky breath filled your lungs as you stared at the man crossing over the threshold. The flickering candlelight caught the honeyed shine of the locks that came down to tickle the nape of his neck. A bit darker, his short beard was full and warmed up the bottom half of his gruff features. He sure looked like a man who could slay a kraken with his bare fists, as the soft fur cloak that draped over his shoulders did not conceal his bulky physic one bit. The neckline of his indigo tunic stretched low enough for you to see the concave of his fuzzy chest and the impressive battle scars that broke up the rippling flesh. 

You’d seen the portrait of the king that hung in the hallway that stretched up towards the throne room, but to see him before your very eyes, in flesh and blood and not precise paint, was something else entirely. 

The long and embroidered train of the blue silk kirtle you wore dragged across the store floor behind you as both you and the monarch slowly stepped into the chamber to join in the very middle. 

The enchanting music stopped as you reached one another and the parted paths to either exit slowly closed as the crowd gathered and enclosed around the sacred vow that was about to ensue. 

Parting the sea of people like a divine force, an elderly woman, with a braided grey mane so long that it hit the floor, stepped up beside the both of you. 

“People of Eflorr,” the crone’s calm voice boomed, “today marks a day of unity, a day of peace, and most of all a day of love. Like a seed planted in the soil, tonight we will all witness this relationship blossom and go on the journey of growing into a magnificent tree, with roots strong enough to endure any storm, to propagate new seedlings that will watch over and shade our kingdom when yours have fallen.” 

Looking to the king, she handed him a small dagger from her belt and spoke, “blade across skin,” and he reached out for your right hand, “strike out your seedling’s love line,” your breath hitched as you felt him slice the top of your palm. Crimson blood trickled down onto his own hand as yours rested atop it, “and claim it as your own,” he flipped the blade around and handed it to you, before presenting you his own palm, open in yours. He didn’t even blink as you hesitantly pierced the calloused skin and traced the line already adoring his broad palm, “weave your lines together, so they become the same,” he then moved to clasp your hands together, his wide grip engulfed yours completely. Your teeth sank into just the faintest bit of your bottom lip at the fresh sting of your wound as it bled into his, “and may this scar serve you as a reminder, of the vow you made on this momentous day.” 

And as the last of the matron's words flowed from her lips so did the roar of celebration that erupted throughout the crowd as the festivities of the night bloomed at an instant.

The feast had been nothing short of immaculate. Countless of dishes had been spread out on the crowded banquet tables ranging from the savoury braised legumes to the sweet and shiny pies. It was an impossible task to try and taste every one of them, but an excuse you still used to stay glued to your seat and not get up and mingle with the boisterous gathering of strangers. 

As a stark contrast, you thought you only noticed the king take two bites before he rose to greet some latecomers who had arrived. Laughing and chatting with the sea of people, he hadn’t offered you a single word, barely even a brief glance the whole night. Though your gaze still followed him from your seat up at the high table as he moved through the crowd like they were all his dearest friends. 

When the moon had floated up to be high in the sky, clearly visible on the other side of the stained glass, your head had dropped down into a propped-up palm as a deep yawn forced its way out of your frame. 

“Are you tired, your majesty?” a deep timbre suddenly found your ears, a specific tone that caused your spine to straighten out at once. 

Whipping your head to your right, your weary eyes grew wide as you saw the king again at his seat, “no, I’m alright,” you hastily coughed out, “I’m so sorry for behaving like that in your presence. This party is exquisite.” 

“It’s alright, you can yawn,” you suddenly felt the need to look away now that his ocean stare was finally fixed upon you, “it’s late, I was about to retire for the night as well, so I can only imagine how you must feel. If you’d like, I could escort you back to your chambers. I’m not sure how familiar you’ve become with the castle since you’ve arrived, but even I can still get lost when the corridors are this dark and I’ve indulged in perhaps one too many goblets of wine.”

A flutter of nauseating nerves rushed within your belly, but even so, you still pushed through and forced a smile, “if that’s what the king desires, then sure, you can escort me.”

It was your wedding night. You knew what was about to happen. 

Or, actually, you didn’t quite know what the marital act entailed, but you were sure a man such as Steve had enough of an understanding to take charge. All you knew was what little you’d been told. To strip down naked, not whine or scream, and do as he tells you.��

The soaring butterflies within you only grew more ferocious as you followed his long stride throughout the castle. Out of the ballroom and through a cold stone hallway, when you crossed the bridge that linked the two wings over a part of the cliff that descended dramatically, you nearly doubled over the parapet to empty your stomach over the town of Borün that blossomed below. 

But with a shaky intake of breath, your fist closed around the silk of your skirt as you settled yourself and forced your feet to keep moving. Even as you passed the threshold into the eastern part of the castle, you still shadowed the monarch up the many steps until his broad palm held the door to your chambers open for you to enter. 

The fire had been lit while you were gone, and the room was encased in the warm glow. 

“Did, uh…” you heard the door close behind you as the king attempted a bit of small talk, “did you have a nice time tonight?” 

“I did, your majesty,” you kept your answer brief out of fear that he’d hear the tremble to your tone. 

Slowly turning his back to you, his gaze washed over the room, “are you pleased with your bed chambers?” he settled to face the balcony, the door slightly ajar to let the night breeze seep through and rustle the sheer curtains, “because if you don’t like it, if you’d rather have a view of the town then the sea, then that’s an easy problem to fix.” 

“I think the view is just fine from here, but thank you,” you answered politely as you gathered up the last bit of your courage and reached back to undo the long row of buttons that went down the spine of the light blue dress. 

When the silky garment dropped to the floor, the quiet rustle was enough to draw the king’s attention.

First offering you just a quick glance over his shoulder, he then swiftly whirled around completely, “what are you doing?”

Weaving your fingers in the thin material of your chemise, you blinked back at his stunned features, “I’m sorry, am I doing it wrong?” sure that he could already see everything through the sheer, white fabric. 

His feet didn’t move as he asked, “what are trying to do?” before he averted his gaze to the stone floor. 

“Well,” you uttered quietly, “it’s our wedding night.”

“Oh…” was all he breathed. 

“To be transparent, I’m actually not quite sure what’s to happen, but I do know it’s something,” reaching up, you took the gold and twisted circlet, that crowned your head, off and carefully sat it down on the side table to your left, “I don’t know the details, I just know that I should strip down. Do you know what we’re supposed to do?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, “yes I do, but, your majesty, please, keep your clothes on,” his gaze flickered back to you as you slowly began to hike up the last layer. 

“Why?” your fingers froze, “isn’t it a tradition here for us to–”

“Well, yes, but–…” he let out a strained sigh before slowly stating, “I’m gonna go.” 

A chill crawled up your skin, “…oh, I see…” you uttered quietly as he crossed the room, “did I do something wrong?”

Halting in the doorway as he ripped it open, “no, you–…” but the rest of his words crumbled as his gaze settled upon you one last time, instead letting a low sigh flow from his lungs, “sleep well,” and added nearly subconsciously just before the door slammed shut, “goodnight, dove.”

Even though a wave of relief washed over you, a sting of hurt also followed suit as the king left. 

Had you done something wrong, or did he just find you that repellent, that hideous, that he refused to perform his marital duties?

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[revelboo]

Your writing is phenomenal! The way you portray each character and expand on their personalities within the Transformers universe has me hooked from the first word. I am so glad you made a blog and thank you so much for sharing your works with us!!! I’m ashamed to admit how often I come back to check and see if anything new has been posted; and I just found your blog maybe two days ago. Thank you again for writing for us all!!!!!!

Thank you for reading my silliness!

Last Night Pt 5

Bumblebee x Reader

• Little steps forward, day by day. Figuring out that questions about your day are safe. About you, less so. Wanting to ask about everything, but trying so hard to not remind you that you’re here against your will, because it upsets you. And that upsets him. But you don’t flinch away if he brushes a servo against your shoulder or lightly touches the back of your hand to get your attention anymore. Little steps. “There are other humans here, right?” You ask him and he hesitates in scrolling through topographical maps. It’s not exactly a secret, though, so he nods. “Are we allowed to see each other?” When he doesn’t immediately answer, you hesitantly walk closer across the top of his desk and lay your little hands on his arm. Willingly reaching out to him for the first time as you look up at him with wide eyes. “Please?”

• Hands resting on his arm, it’s a surprise how warm he is under your palms. And he’s just staring at your hands on him, lips parted like you’ve shocked him. “I can ask,” he finally says, optics shifting to your face. Because even talking to strangers would be better than sitting here alone when he’s doing whatever secret alien things he does during the day. He’d volunteered that he was a scout, so you assume he explores. Maybe makes maps? You honestly have no idea. “Do you know what this is?” He asks and you lean against his arm to see the data pad screen.

• Freezing as you almost drape yourself across his arm, he’s afraid to move in case you realize what you’re doing and stop. It’s the most contact you’ve allowed so far and he can feel you breathing against him, the beat of your heart and your warmth. “Is that the old mine?” You ask, leveraging yourself even further on him to reach for the screen. Mimicking the gesture he uses to enlarge the image and he’s surprised you’ve been paying that much attention to him while he works. “It is. There was some sort of disaster years ago. I think they tapped into natural gas or something and blew themselves up.” Your little head turns to look up at him questioning, before you inhale, face reddening and slide off of him as if you’d just noticed what you were doing. How you were sprawled on him.

• “Energon,” he mutters as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, face hot because you were draped across his arm, butt in the air to reach the data pad screen. It’s not like he cares or is the least bit interested, but still. “We’ve been picking up traces, but haven’t been able to pin it down. But raw energon is highly reactive,” he pushes up from his desk, smacking the data pad against his palm as he paces. Energon is that glowing goop he drinks, but why would it be on Earth? You’ve never even heard of it before him. There’s no time to try to scurry away as he turns and picks you up in his hand and lifts you, doing a nauseating little twirl and laughing like an excited kid. Dizzy, you fall on your butt when he sets you back on your feet, but he’s already headed for the door, calling out over his shoulder that’ll he be back as you try to figure out what that was and why his excitement spreads warm through you, a smile pulling at your lips.

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[felassan]

Brian J. Audette: "As promised, what follows is an unofficial behind the scenes/director’s commentary thread for the “Isle of the Gods” mission in Dragon Age: The Veilguard for Dragon Age Day. Some Veilguard spoilers will follow, so Beware." [source thread]

Rest of post is under a cut due to spoilers and length.

Brian J. Audette: "First off, who am I? I'm Brian Audette. I was the level designer on Isle of the Gods and the level design lead for the critical path (and other scattered missions) on Veilguard for the last 3.5 years or so. While some levels changed hands between people over time, Isle of the Gods was mine from the beginning. And speaking of the beginning, what a great place to start. Usually when a level designer starts work on a crit path mission, the main dialogue and narrative is already written. In this case the writer was Bioware veteran Sylvia Feketekuty whose fingerprints are all over the game, but who you can primarily thank for Emmrich. While this initial narrative work gives us a general idea of what the mission needs to be, the gameplay is only a suggestion at this point. As the level designer, the first thing I do is flesh out the gameplay implied by the narrative and then design the steps that will connect those moments. This is all done “on paper” in a concept doc. I’m a very visual thinker and while not a requirement of this process, I used a free online fantasy map making tool to mock up a sketch of what I thought the level could be in order to help me wrap my head around it."

"Once that’s reviewed and approved, the more physical work on level design begins: blockout. Essentially this is where the level designer uses simple geometry to craft a skeletal version of the level in order to test gameplay, pacing, flow, etc. In the case of Isle of the Gods, the initial blockout and the final version of the level look very different, but the major beats, how they connect, and even most of the pacing and timing is the same. The major difference is that originally the island was more condensed, with a moat-like river around a central rise, but when level art initially started working on it, they “unraveled” it into a crescent shape that ultimately proved much better both visually and for the gameplay."

"One thing that barely changed from blockout to the final level, was the very start of the mission, but especially this rocky arch. I added it early in blockout in order to sell the idea that we were landing on a rocky, secluded cove."

"The initial beach area changed several times during development. It started big, got smaller, and got bigger again for various reasons. At one point there was some light deep stalker combat here, but the pacing felt better without it in the end. Another thing that barely changed from the original blockout was the gods’ ritual site and how it’s seen in the distance. My initial inspiration for how this should look was the Castlevania games, where Dracula’s lair is always at the pinnacle of the castle and juts precariously out into the air."

"Unraveling the level to be more of a crescent allowed both for more views of the ritual site as we climb and an earlier view of the Antaam presence across the inner bay than what was originally intended. I think this helped better sell the bigger combat that follows the first small encounter. I cannot claim full credit for the mortars combat beat. At one point we had a group focused on interesting combat moments and this was their idea, that I ultimately refined as what’s in game now. I think it’s more fun than just fighting a bunch more enemies alone."

"As we approach the entrance to the gods’ stronghold from the beaches, we get this moment where we see explosions in the distance as evidence of the rest of the team's (those not with Rook) efforts to distract the Antaam. This was another view helped greatly by art’s unraveling of the level."

"If you head down to the beach just after seeing the explosions, you can find some goodies and one of our visual Easter eggs … an homage to Planet of the Apes. This was initially setup by the level artist Meggie Rock and I decided to place a chest right where one could get the best view of the statue"

"Incidentally, this makes me want to hear Gareth David-Lloyd deliver the “You maniacs! You blew it up! Damn you! Damn you all to hell” line from Planet of the Apes, but as Solas. The next bit of the level proceeds more or less as it was originally blocked out, though the area with the deep stalkers at the top of the first elevator was an addition that had to be made after level art decided to blow out the traversal in that area to a greater degree than I initially intended. The overlook where you fight some mercenary mages has one of my favorite notes. Sylvia and I wanted to press the idea that a larger Antaam presence here had been drawn away by the explosion at the camp below and It was my idea to have a note from a bored Antaam lookout, counting floating rocks."

"One thing that changed even before I was done with the blockout, was Elgar’nan’s speech as you make your way through the ruins and up to the second elevator. Originally we had wanted his face in the sky like Ghilan’nain at Weisshaupt, but decided to trade it for the Archdemon flyby we used instead. At the top of the zip line just before the Archdemon flyby is one of my favorite views: the gods’ ritual site silhouetted against the eclipse. The initial description of this shot was used almost like a mission statement for this level in the original concept."

"Here’s a fun bit of trivia for you: The second elevator in Isle of the Gods is the longest elevator ride in the game. Also … elevators used to be slower and I’m pretty sure this ride contributed to speeding them up everywhere. The fight while waiting for your companions to open the gate after the second elevator was always intended to be big. Originally I had designed an arena with lots of cover and elevation changes, but when we decided to use a couple Reavers for the fight, things got a lot flatter."

"This waterfall area after leaving the gatehouse was never in the original blockout, but it’s something the level’s original artist put in and that we liked so much, we tried to find use for it as a nice side path for loot and a note."

"My original blockout for the area after the gatehouse (now known as the Elven Ruins) was much different. The pacing and the beats were the same, but I envisioned it as taking place at the tops of ruined towers rising high above a caldera or pit below. Ultimately these blighted ruins work better imo. The presence of fade tears and the fact that we call them out several times in the level originally had a larger narrative purpose that we moved away from. Exploding fade tears didn’t actually exist in game until I created them for this mission and they were ultimately elsewhere to good effect. The blight destruction before entering the gods’ inner sanctum was a beat that went through several iterations early on. We knew we wanted to halt the player at a door like we did at the gatehouse, but didn’t want to use the same idea of fighting until the door opens again. At one point I had some over complicated ideas about using fade tears to blow up blight boils, but with level art’s help we settled on something less about combat and more about traversal."

"Now we’re getting close to the end. When you open the door to the gods’ inner sanctum, right before it fades into the cinematic, you can see your companions who have gone ahead, waiting for you in the room. Most will miss it, but I wanted that attention to detail. While the general structure of the final section of the level didn’t change much from the original blockout, the gameplay certainly did. Everything after that last elevator ride in cinematic was overhauled to create an experience that was much more about this looming confrontation with Ghilan’nain. “A master class in blight boils” was how we had originally approached the two sections before the boss fight here and I originally had some really cool and puzzle-like blight destruction utilizing boils that would regrow."

"Ultimately we removed that puzzle aspect however as we wanted a lot of combat and in play testing it, it just felt too busy. We could either have a big puzzle or a big combat, but both was too much, so we decided on combat as it was more in keeping with the pacing of the end of the mission. The fight against Ghilan’nain was a collaboration between myself and several other designers. We knew we didn’t want to attack her directly (that’s Lucanis’ job) and we knew we wanted to strip away your companions at least initially. Once again, we decided to use the blight. If you think this fight is chaotic now, imagine it with blight boils that regrow! Like the previous section, we decided to ditch this idea as it detracted from the rest of the fight. Incidentally, you can beat this fight without killing a single enemy. My best time is somewhere just under 2 minutes. And that brings us to the end of Isle of the Gods. I hope you enjoyed the mission and I hope you enjoyed this look behind the curtain. And remember "Whatever it takes!""

[source thread]

[spikedfearn]

You Keep on Sayin’ You in Love Tho, So Tell Me, Are You Really Down? (Yeah)

One-shot

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: you and Bjorn shotgun during your ascent in the hauler—and then some.

a/n: 📣 100 follower special 📣 I've been wanting to write a shotgunning fic since I first saw bjorn smoke that spliff in one toke, it was ridiculously hot and I just had to be totally normal about it in the theater. this is a reimagining of the escape from jackson's star so the character dialogue/actions will not be movie accurate. title from the song "self-care" by mac miller.

warnings: established relationship, recreational drug use, shotgunning, PDA, making out, dry humping, oral (receiving) possessive behavior, you're that couple

wc: 3.1k

The low rumble of the metal grate beneath your feet as the Corbelan ascends leaves you feeling momentarily weightless, like you're floating before gravity pulls you down, feeling heavier than usual.

You’re strapped in, anchored by a sturdy crossed seatbelt that comes down over your shoulders and buckles in next to the opposite hip, white knuckling the lip of the seat on either side of your thighs, eyes closed tight as you hold your breath.

It feels surreal, your heart thumping hard against your rib cage, knowing you all just pulled off the biggest heist in Jackson Star’s history, stealing highly-regulated equipment to leave behind a shitty life of indentured servitude.

It's something you've all discussed at length for months, Tyler being the one to initially suggest the idea while you were all drinking late one night, mapping out an escape route in yours and Bjorn's shared trailer, sitting on his lap with his legs spread wide, arms loosely circled around your waist.

Still—you can't believe it actually worked, breaking into the hauler and getting it up off the ground without any hiccups, half expecting sirens to soon blare throughout the endlessly dark sky or for the engine to stall, it just feels easy. Too easy.

You feel Bjorn’s hand on your leg then, taking notice of your growing anxiety, always able to pick up on any shifts in your mood, no matter how subtle, not when it comes to you.

Running his thumb along the inseam of your dark-washed jeans, he squeezes your thigh afterwards out of reassurance. It helps, even if only just a little, your palm finding its way into his, weaving your fingers together between you, a fair bit calmer now that you're holding your boyfriend's hand, roughed up and calloused from mining.

He's always been able to read you, ever since you were little, knowing exactly what you needed when you needed it, sometimes even before you did, causing your progressively growing affection for him to flourish into something else entirely, something beautiful, until you were crushing hard and just couldn't bury it anymore, no matter how hard you tried.

Luckily the feeling was mutual because after your drunk little confession, the only two still awake and drinking, sitting in the cramped living room of his trailer away from where the others were passed out, you hooked up on his futon, sweating out years of romantic and sexual tension that had built and built and built between you until it finally came to a head.

Everyone was happy for you both as soon as they woke the next morning to you wearing Bjorn's loose tee from the night before and a pair of clean boxers, arms linked and swinging down between your bodies, going shy when Navarro sighed, “fuck—finally,” and Tyler coming up to squeeze Bjorn’s shoulders from behind, telling him, “see? Told ya’ she wuz’ just as inta ya,’ mate.”

That was three years ago and you've been dating ever since, completely mad for each other as Bjorn liked to put it, which you think sums it up quite nicely.

You complimented one another, able to make up for whatever deficiency the other was lacking in. You were the only one that could truly calm him, talk him down from the proverbial edge when his anger started to boil over in response to whatever bullshit life threw at him. Reminding him that you were in this together for the long haul, which always did the trick, watching the way he'd soften in your hold and silently nod, looking just as vulnerable on the outside as he felt on the inside.

And he was the only one that could truly get you to relax when you were stressed out, like a hydraulic press trying to crush you under the weight of your own problems. Reminding you not be so serious all the time, to enjoy the little things, like right at that moment, when he'd be spooning you in bed at the end of every night, drawing miscellaneous patterns over your midriff with one hand while he combs his fingers on the other through your hair, still damp with sweat after a passionate round or two.

It wasn't perfect but it was yours, and that was enough for both of you.

The hauler Navarro’s piloting hits a rough patch of turbulence as it cuts up through the polluted cloud cover, Bjorn withdrawing his hand from yours to unbuckle himself and stand, unsteady on his feet, forcing him to hold onto one of the steel bars to ground himself there.

He plucks a rolled up joint from the front pocket of his dark gray drop shoulder hoodie and lights it with one of his shitty zippo's, the confined oxygen combined with the freighter's acceleration causing the flame to shoot up high and wide, nearly singeing his eyebrows off. The others laugh at his accidental little joint trick, including you, watching him proudly nod his head around at everyone when he manages to keep all his hair.

It smokes fast, faster than he was expecting, his eyes rounding in surprise as the paper burns all the way down to the roach in just seconds, cheeks swollen with a sudden mouthful of smoke, thin milky tendrils slipping past the seam of his lips.

Then Bjorn leans down and cradles your face between his hands before capturing your lips with his without hesitation, not that you mind, permission never requested and approval never needed anytime it comes to kissing between you two, parting your mouth when he parts his, letting him exhale smoke into it.

It inflates your lungs almost instantly, like two blistering hot air balloons butting up against your ribcage, getting you super stoned off the rip. You feel the muscles in your body relax all at once, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him in impossibly closer, working your tongue into his mouth.

There’s just something about shotgunning with Bjorn that gets you so worked up every time you partake in it, maybe it’s the intimacy of it, so close you can see Bjorn’s pupils dilate from the drugs and the desire, but you always find it ridiculously sexy whenever he does it.

You hear the quiet click of your seatbelt as Bjorn unbuckles it for you, pulling it up and off you before tugging on your wrist to get you to stand with him, pulling you into him, one arm circling your upper back to spread his fingers over your shoulder blades while the other grabs a handful of your ass, not once breaking the kiss.

It’s hot and heavy from the outset, it always is with Bjorn, likes to skip the teasing and jump head first into the deep end with you in tow. The slick sound of your tongues meeting is mostly drowned out by the pulsing engine and Navarro announcing the position of the gearshift when she changes direction, everyone pointedly ignoring the free show you’re giving them, already used to it by now, Bjorn never one to shy away from PDA.

However unlike him it took you awhile to warm up to it, always going a little pink-cheeked and embarrassed whenever he'd lick into your mouth or pinch your ass in front of everyone, but you learned to like it, love it even, looking forward to it every time he does it, which is all the time.

He places one knee between your legs and grinds his hard on up against your thigh, a low buzz humming between your ears like static from a television, swallowing the noises the other is making, grinding back against his thigh, your underwear getting increasingly wet as a result.

The friction between you is delicious—downright addicting, whining every time the denim of his jeans roughly catches your clit, dry humping his thigh that much harder, feeling pleasure quickly mounting inside of you, spurring on the frenetic roll of your hips. God does Bjorn know how to get you going, until you're needy and pliant and begging for him to fuck you.

“Such a naughty little minx ya’ are,” Bjorn exhales into your ear, a breathy groan that has you shuddering in his hold, “gonna make ya' come all over ma’ face while I go down on ya,’ would ya’ like tha’ princess? Me splittin’ ya’ wide open with jus’ ma’ tongue?”

Before you have a chance to respond, the others collectively groan in disgust, Tyler cutting in to voice everyone else's thoughts, “christ, can ya' take this somewhere else? Cousins really shouldn't hafta’ hear their cousins say shit like tha’ yanno!”

Bjorn smirks, lazily rolling his head in the direction of his cousin, running his tongue flat over the curve of his top teeth, “awe, jealous you ain't gettin' any action cuz?”

Tyler glares, no actual malice in his eyes, always willing to put up with Bjorn's ridiculous antics even when he clearly doesn't want to, “no, not at all, I jus’ feel like I need a shower now s’all. Ma’ brain hates ma’ ears fo’ even havin’ ta’ hear tha.’”

“Yeah, a cold one amirite?” Bjorn cracks as he walks away, leading you with his arm around your shoulders down the Corbelan’s corridor towards the back where the bunks are, tucked into his side while he playfully squeezes your bicep. He leans in close to nip at your throat just above the worn scoop neck collar, prone to leave marks, both of you liking the visual reminder that you belong to him.

There are two bunk rooms, the one Kay is lying in to help combat some of her morning sickness during takeoff, and the room adjacent to it, the empty one, is the one Bjorn pulls you into, crowding you up against the ladder as soon as you're through the open doorway, feeling metal rungs bite into your back through the loose fitting t-shirt you're wearing—Bjorn's shirt.

“Less get these rags off ya’ sweetheart, wanna taste tha’ pretty pussy of urs before we get inta’ space,” he rasps, grabbing the hem of the ratty fabric to pull it up and off your head, his hand easily finding the clasp on your bra to unhook it.

He licks his thumb and index finger to gently roll your nipple between them, eliciting a moan, high and needy in pitch, your head falling back against the platform the uppermost mattress is sitting on with a quiet ‘thunk’ because of it.

Bjorn chuckles watching your reaction, an arrogant smile on his face, always so smug with how quickly he's able to get you falling apart, always so receptive in his hands, more than familiar with every sensitive spot and erogenous zone located on your body, replacing his fingers with the wet suction of his mouth.

He doesn't take his time like he normally does, loves toying with your chest until they're red and raw and littered with purpling hickeys of various sizes until you're a whimpering, quivering puddle beneath him but tonight he's on a mission, having thought it out long before he filled you in back in the cockpit.

“I'd love ta’ suckle on ‘em titties a little longa’ but I got a betta' way ta’ use ma’ mouth, don'tcha agree princess?” He whispers, warm breath ghosting over your face, tickling your heated skin, causing the hairs there to stand at attention.

“Mmmmm,” you hum, short on breath, whining in response to him pinching the side of your heaving tit, knowing what he wants before he even voices it.

“Words babe, use ‘em,” he orders, circling his thumbs counterclockwise over your hard nipples like the joysticks on the console he plays when he's not playing with you. Your back arches into his heated touch, moaning, “I—yes. Please Bjorn—baby, want you to eat me out, want you to split me wide open with your tongue and come on your face like you promised you would. Please.”

“Well, since ya’ asked so nicely,” he grins, satisfied with your answer, getting you to lie down on the bottom bunk sideways so your legs are dangling off the edge of the thin bed.

It's a tight fit, definitely not big enough for him to crawl in after and fuck you in, regardless of the position you'd attempt to do it, but that's not his endgame right now anyway so it doesn't really matter to either of at you the moment. You'll figure that out later, when you're officially on course for the nine year journey to Yvaga III. The others are all gonna fucking hate you both by the end of it.

Kneeling on the ground between your legs he grips either knee and spreads them wide open, instructing you to lift your hips a little so he can shed your jeans, leaving you in nothing but your damp cotton panties.

You watch as he licks over his lips, slow and deliberate, like he’s eying his favorite meal, a new wave of wetness gushing out of you, reflexively trying to close your legs so you don't soak through the mattress but Bjorn's hands stop you from doing so.

“Don't get all shy on me now princess,” Bjorn smirks, thumbs brushing over the crease of your pelvis, flirting along the edge of your underwear, “s'not like I haven't seen it all before or nothing.”

Then he’s closing the distance, taking a big whiff between your thighs, the rapid flutter of his lashes and the growl that rumbles through his chest inciting a needy whine out of you, “always smells so fuckin’ good, so wet ‘n ready fo’ me like tha’ naughty little slut ya’ are. Gonna fuckin’ devour ya.’”

He blows cool air over your warm, wet core, causing you to shiver, trying to grind down on his face, his hands on your hips stopping you, punctuating the air between you, “patience sweetheart, we’ll get there, probably don't’ have much time left ‘nyway.”

Bjorn finally, finally rips your underwear down and off, throwing the bend of your knees over his shoulders before burying his face in between your thighs, licking between your dripping folds from the base of your throbbing core up to your clit, tongue circling around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck, Bjorn,” you whimper, electricity circulating through you like your veins are made of live wires, feeling high off the weed and arousal and adrenaline as your boyfriend eats you out, ankles locking behind the scruff of his neck to keep him there.

“Thas’ right baby, say ma’ name, is tha’ only one ur eva’ gonna moan cuz this pussy belongs ta’ me n’ me only,” he growls, giving your thigh a possessive little squeeze as he spells the letters of his name out on your clit to really drive the point home.

And the thing is—Bjorn's absolutely right, his name is the only one you're ever gonna moan, the only one you ever want to, because Bjorn doesn't just own what's between your legs he owns what's inside your chest too.

It’s the crude way Bjorn spits on your entrance that has you closing your legs around his head, moaning his name like a prayer, like you aren’t already wet enough, distantly aware it's just another way for him to stake his claim over you.

He probes the tip of his tongue against your opening, throbbing in anticipation, clamping down on the warm wet muscle as soon as he wiggles it inside, first an inch, then two, groaning as the taste spreads over his tongue.

It always drives you absolutely crazy how vocal Bjorn is when he's going down on you, like he's getting off on it more than you are, the noises he's making causing tremors of pleasure to undulate through you, blindly fucking back onto his tongue as a result.

He increases his persistence, steadily fucking his tongue in and out of you, one of the arms he has loosely circled around your thighs letting go to rub circles into your clit instead, applying just the right amount of pace and pressure to have you trembling in his grasp.

You continue to roll your hips down, growing frenetic with your rapidly approaching climax, cervical muscles contracting like wires being wound up tight, clenching around your boyfriend’s thick tongue while you grind up into his thumb, wet from his spit and your fluids.

Moans are freely spilling out of you know, oscillating between breathy little whimpers and needy whines of Bjorn’s name and phrases like, “baby—fuck,” and, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” orgasming just as the quiet boom of the Corbelan breaks through the surface tension of the exosphere and enters orbit, sunlight pouring through the window of the hauler and bathing you both.

Bjorn’s face is wet with your release, licking up your thighs and between your folds to clean you up, licking you into hypersensitivity, pulling your hips away when it starts to hurt. He kisses down your leg, gentle as he helps swing your legs in so you’re lying on the mattress correctly, crawling in to join you.

While it might not be big enough for you to fuck in its just right for cuddling, his arm going around your waist to reel you in close, groaning when you lean your head back against his shoulder to lick some of your juices off of him. He’s still fully clothed, hips pressed up to your naked ass, tracing over the dice tattoo on the back of his hand.

“Want me to return the favor?” You ask, fucked out and spent in his arms, feeling your eyelids grow heavy with sleep. Still, you’d power through the exhaustion if he wanted you to, just for him.

“No need princess,” Bjorn smiles, soft and affectionate, kissing behind your ear, “already gone limp. Gonna hafta’ change my boxers when I got tha’ energy. Tha’ pretty little sounds ya’ make really gets me goin.’”

You feel heat pool low in your core at the idea of Bjorn getting off on just your moans alone, meeting his eyes over your shoulder, dazzling in the sun. He kisses you then, full of love and passion, cradling your jaw to keep it turned towards him, thumb sweeping across your cheekbone, from the bridge of your nose back to your ear.

“Jus’ as breathtaking in tha’ light princess,” he whispers, eyes roving over your face, the same look he always gives you when he’s being incredibly sweet, like he’s been staring at the sun long before he saw the real thing.

A warmth spreads through you because of it, warmer than anything else in the universe, even the sun.

[w4w4lycsss]

CHIVALROUS PIRATE | JAMES HOOK

summary: You ask the most unexpected gentleman (Hook) for help in deciding what to do for the dance. pairing: James Hook x male!prince!reader a/n: I've been pretty obsessed with this character for days now, imagine the impact it had on me to make me update again after being inactive for a month (the idea of graphic style it's not mine)

You didn't know when you had befriended a pirate, it was something new for you, since you were considered one of the kindest boys in school. It wasn't even difficult, Uliana and the rest made innocent jokes when they noticed something different, and they realized that they were right when you grabbed the guts to return the joke.

Hook quickly grew fond of you when you were accepted (or rather tolerated) and stuck to you like a leech, annoying you and being how brazen he is.

No one would ever think that a pirate like him: annoying, arrogant, conceited and intimidating would be a gentleman with you.

Only with you, which did not surprise you when you saw him treat you like this from the first moment, you were like his prince. Ironic since it bothered royalty, and you had a very distant lineage and kingdom, which made you feel respected because almost no one seemed to recognize your name on maps. He made you respected, if necessary he would shout at the seven seas (possibly as a threat) to treat you as you deserve.

Somehow you weren't surprised that he was jealous or possessive, but on a non-toxic point, as he wouldn't let girls flirt with you or go overboard, putting his healthy hand on your back and going down to your waist so they would notice that you weren't available. He was much more direct and rude when the guys asked you out,

You were afraid of dancing, like you didn't want to go for some reason, maybe you weren't ready, or your head was telling you that it wasn't the time for you. The dance was in two days, which kept you under pressure because you didn't know what to wear, and that no one had invited you. Still.

The door to your room rang, causing you to run and open it when you know who it was. Hook bowed a little exaggerated at seeing you, a gesture that was interrupted when you pulled him by the arm and pulled him into your room, closing the door.

"Quick, which one looks better on me? Blue or black?" You took the two suit options you had on your bed and put them in front of your clothes to set an example.

"Huh, the two of you?" He tilted his head to the side as he didn't know anything about fashion.

You moaned in frustration and put the clothes back on the bed. "You don't understand, I need to look perfect." You tossed and turned around your room as you thought. "What do you need?"

"Nothing really." He blurted out brazenly, pacing your room and seeing the jewelry you planned to wear the dance. "Why do you worry so much? With either of you you would look good."

"Just 'good' isn't enough, I need to look perfect." You repeated. "I want to match whoever I go with. It's harder when no one has invited me to two days!"

Hook stopped walking in circles and stopped in front of you, putting his hand on your lower back and his hook holding your chin for you to look at. Both shared a different look, he exposing the look of jealousy and you worried about how you come to see yourself.

"Isn't it better not to go to the dance? I don't want to see anyone with my prince."

"This is not the time for jealousy, this is serious. I don't want to be the laughingstock of the night." You frowned worried about yourself, raising your hands to the collar of his shirt.

A little habit you had was always to arrange his clothes, he was not a dirty pirate but sometimes he did not know how to dress properly. With your hands on his neck you played with the chain he was carrying and the hair that fell down the back of his neck, distracting you from what had tired you a few moments ago.

His hook left your chin and went down to your waist, accompanying his other hand and drawing you more to him. His grip was secure but soft, he knew how to treat and hold you, he had created his boundaries with you himself.

"Do you want to go to the dance with me?" He asked you in a low voice, a few inches from your lips.

"Are you serious?"

"Very seriously. No one has invited you and I, uh, have rejected several girls." He shrugged his shoulders but continued to speak in the same low, careful tone.

"Black would definitely make me stand out."

You smiled inevitably, a gesture that infected him. Both leaned over each other to join their lips in a brief kiss, at the moment of separation he smiled proud of himself.

"You'll look great next to me, no matter what you wear."

[citruswriter]

Imagine Leos interest being like forcefully muzzled or something and Leo just coming in and kicking ass like a feral beast

Raphs interest would probably have to do something with de-clawing

Donnie’s interest would probably have something to do with tugging on the antenna

And mikeys interest would have something to do with clipping feathers

Being Rescued From Danger

Listen With Me! ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

A/N: Oh baby you have no idea what you just did.

Previous Part

Pain. That was the first thing you noticed. Pain coursing throughout your body. The next thing you noticed was the cold. It was so cold. "Wakey, wakey!" A sing song voice came. You flinched as somebody snapped their fingers in front of your face. Rubbing your eyes, you groggily attempted to gain your bearings as your surroundings came into view. It looked as if you were in a cell. "Welcome back to the land of the living, sweetheart!" You looked over to see... your ex. Your ex in a uniform. A Foot Clan uniform. "Dude what the fuck?" You groaned out and the person laughed. "You think you can just dump me for some freak and not be punished? Think again bitch." They growled. You swallowed in fear as you saw them raise a weapon. "You're mine."

Fingers flew as Donnie attempted to lock into your location. "There! A small abandoned warehouse!" Donnie said finally. "Let's move out then!" Raph growled, he had been the first one to notice when your location suddenly went off the map. "Everybody gear up and move out!" Leo barked, already heading for the lair exit. "Please be ok..." Mikey muttered. They messed with the wrong person. When they got to the warehouse, the turtles cut down their enemies with ease. Adrenaline courses through their veins as they worked to get towards you. "In here guys!" Mikey called out, bringing attention to a locked room. Raph stepped forward and put his brute strength to good use, knocking the door down. As your ex attempted to escape, Leo picked them up and shoved them to a corner, "Going somewhere?" You were a sight to behold, bloodied and broken and- "Holy shit..." The words left Donatello with pure shock.

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

Leonardo x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a wolf neko, Reader has golden eyes, Reader has an ex boyfriend, caging, gags.

You had been stuffed into an incredibly small dog crate, a ball gag tightly strapped onto your head, and your wrists bound with ropes. Tears and saliva dripped off your face. You breathed heavily as you stared off into nothing, pupils blown wide. Leo called out your name, causing your eyes to snap over to him. You whimpered and squirmed, fresh tears falling down your face as you struggled. "Shhhh. Shhhh. Calm down. Let me get you out." Leo cooed, opening the crate. He helped you wiggle free before cutting your ropes with his kitana. Carefully, he unstrapped the gag and let it fall. As soon as it did, you began sucking in air greedily. Body shaking as you coughed and sobbed, Leo gently held you. "You're safe now, blossom. You're safe. I've got you now." You clung onto him as he picked you up. "Raphael". Leo's red banded brother looked over at him with a curious gaze. Leo looked down at your ex boyfriend coldly, usually Leo was all for turning criminals in or only roughing them up. He often had to stop his brother from committing a crime of his own. But no. Not this time. Looking into his brothers eyes he nodded. "Deal with him how you see fit. I don't care what you do to him." He spat. Raph grinned sadistically before turning to the trash before him.

Back at the lair, you were half way passed out on Leo's bed as he ran a damp rag over your forehead. "Leo..." You whispered and Leo got closer to you. "I'm here blossom." He soothed, one of his hands grabbing your own shaking hand that you held out in an effort to seek him out. "Thank you. For saving me." Leo brought your hand up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles as he felt his resolve begin to fall away. "Of course. I will never let anybody hurt you again. Never." He said, his tone shaky as tears welled up in his eyes. Your heart broke and you attempted to sit up, cradling his face in your hands. "Don't cry, Leo. Please." You cooed and he just stared up at you. "What if I had been too late? He could have killed you. (Y/N) I can't loose you." He choked out. "But he didn't. Because you found me. I'm safe. Because of you." You soothed, smiling softly. Leo placed his hands over yours, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm him. "Why don't you rest with me? Seems like we could both use it." You offered, already laying back, hand tugging his in an attempt to pull him with you.

Leo let himself be pulled, laying down beside you and holding you close to him. You both laid there as you began to drift off once again, the stress of the day catching up to you. But before you did, you felt Leo kiss your head. "I love you so much," was the last thing you heard before slipping off into slumber.

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Raphael x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a cat neko, Reader has an ex girlfriend, nails being ripped off.

Your wrists were bound to the table, and your head laid on the cold metal. You sobbed silently, ears pinned back against your head. Your ex had ripped off all your nails, essentially declawing you in a way. Your body rolled with so much pain that you hadn't even realized that you had been saved until Raph was picking you up in his arms. "(Y/N)? Please talk to me." He begged, voice cracking. Slowly, you looked up at him in what seemed like delayed shock. "Raph?" You croaked, voice hoarse and frail. Raph's heart broke at seeing just how bad of a state you were in. "Fuck babydoll. I'm so sorry for not getting here sooner." He said, holding you close to him. You clung onto him, seeking out the heat that radiated off of him, splaying a hand over his chest and dragging it up til you found his neck. "Safe". Was all you whispered before closing your eyes. Raph looked down at you, pain gripping his heart so hard he thought his chest might burst. "Leo," he stared and his brother looked at him, "I know you're not one to deal with things my way... But I'm afraid if we don't, she may come back." Leo seemed to ponder his brother's words before nodding his head. "I believe you may be right. Take (Y/N) back to the lair. We will handle things here." He said and Raph nodded his head before walking off. As much as he'd love to deal with the little bitch himself, you needed him.

Waking up a few hours later, you found yourself tucked into Raph's bed. Your hands were bandaged and you had been changed into some clean underwear and one of his old t-shirts. You became aware of a heavy weight on your waist and you blinked several times, controlling your pupils to see in the dark. Raph's arm was wrapped around you in a possessive grip and he was sound asleep behind you, face buried into the nape if your neck. "Raphie?" You questioned and you wiggled to turn over in his grasp. The large turtle cracked his eyes open to look down at you. "Hey kitten," he rumbled softly, hand finding the small of your back to rub circles. "What happened?" You asked and Raph hummed softly in thought, thinking about his words before replying. "Your ex hurt you. Ripped out your fingernails, but don' worry. Donnie bandaged them. I called April over to clean you up and change you. I hope that was ok." You nodded and nuzzled up into him. "Fuck that shit was so scary," you breathed out in a shaky tone, tail creeping up to wrap its way around Raph's arm.

"Yeah but I saved you. Don't worry, kitten. I'll never let anybody hurt you again." He murmured, nuzzling his snout into your scalp and breathing your scent in. "Do you care if I go back to sleep?" You asked gently and Raph chuckled softly. "Not at all, doll. Rest as long as you need. I'll be here when you wake up." He replied. Seeing him be so soft was certainly an experience but you wouldn't be lying if you said you enjoyed seeing him be so soft with you. Purring softly you drifted off, ear flicking as you heard a voice say, "I don't know what I'd do without you, my love".

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

Donatello x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a moth mutant, Reader had an ex-girlfriend, damaged wings.

It took all of his brothers to prevent Donnie from just ripping this girl's head off. Donnie was most likely the least confrontational between all of his brothers, but when he was angry he was an unstoppable force. "What the hell have you done?!" He yelled at the girl and she coward in fear. Squeaking, you looked up from your spot on the floor. "Donnie?" You whispered. "Donatello!" Leo called out, causing his enraged brother to snap his attention to him. "(Y/N) needs you. You let us deal with this trash." Donnie sighed and looked over at you. You squinted your eyes, trying so hard to see as your moved your antenna around in an attempt to pinpoint Donnie's scent. Pulling yourself up to your knees, you reached your hands out as if attempting to reach him. The purple terrapin nodded before approaching you, touching your hands to let you know he was there before picking you up by your arms and holding you as one would with a small child. You sighed in relief, arms wrapping around his neck. "You found me..." You sighed out. Donnie winced, looking down at you torn wing. "Your wings." He said softly and you hummed. "They'll heal. Eventually." You muttered back. "Can we go home now?" You asked. Home. You called the lair home. Donnie nodded, stroking your hair and kissing your temple. "Of course, dearest." He replied. As he passed by his brothers, Raph and Leo nodded to him, silently telling him that your ex would no longer be a problem.

"You wanna change at all?" Donnie asked as he set you down on his bed and you nodded before going to take your clothes off. Donnie took out some fresh clothes of yours that you kept stored in his room, handing them over to you before looking away as to not invade your privacy. Rustling and hisses of pain could be heard before you let out a moth squeak. "M good now." You said softly before laying on your stomach. Donnie began to take off his gear and gently set it aside. "Mind if I join you for some rest?" He asked, wanting to respect your space. You cracked your eyes open to look at him and squeak again. "Please do. I could use the company". You replied, causing him to smile softly and crawl in beside you. "How long do you think it'll take for your wings to heal?" He asked softly, wrapping his arms around you. You tilted your head up to look at him, humming in thought before responding. "Few months probably. Takes awhile." You answered, cuddling up to him.

"Maybe you could... maybe you could stay here until it's fully healed? So I can keep an eye on it?" He asked, tone almost begging. He needed you here. Needed to make sure you were safe. You nuzzled into him, relaxing into his frame. "I certainly wouldn't mind. I feel safe enough with you." You murmured out. Donnie let out a soft churr at your words, a noise that made you grin. "We can discuss it more later though. Rest now." He said gently. As you began to drift off, you felt soft tapping on your thigh with the hand he had curled around it. A message he didn't know you could understand was received and you couldn't help but smile. I love you, my dove.

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

Michaelangelo x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader has white feathered wings, Reader has long elf-like ears, chained up, damaged wings, this one is prolly the most gruesome, reader has an ex-boyfriend.

Mikey almost cried on the spot from what he saw. You were on your knees but your body was being held up by chains. Two chains around your wrists that kept your arms up and two chains around your wings that kept them up and spread out. It took Mikey getting closer to realize that they weren't around your wings but were in fact going through them. Mikey choked back a sob in utter horror. "Mikey?" You muttered as you lifted your head, blood and tears dripping down your face. "Mikey." You said his name again but it came out as a whine this time. "Mikey it hurts. It hurts so bad." You sobbed. "Shhhh. It's ok, I'm gonna get you outta this. But it's gonna hurt first ok?" He said, voice shaking as he called Donnie over to help release you. As Donnie worked on your chains, Mikey cradled your face, softly praising you as you gritted through the pain that raged through your body. As soon as you were free, you immediately collapsed into his arms. He wasted no time picking you up and carrying out of the warehouse. "It hurts. It hurts so bad," you babbled out to him. "Shhhh. I know, baby. I know. It's ok. I've got you now." He soothed, placing a kiss on your forehead as you clung onto him.

Back at the lair, he took great care cleaning you up and tending to your injuries. You were so exhausted from all the pain that you didn't even fight, just let him move you however he wanted. A few hours later and the pain had dulled and you were in clean underwear and one of Mikey's spare hoodies. "I'm so sorry for not getting there sooner." Mikey whispered, holding you close as you straddled his lap. You sighed in comfort, ears drooped low as you breathed his scent in. "Mikey you got there as soon as you could." You murmured, pulling back to cradle his face. "My wings will heal. My body will heal. I will heal. You did the best you could." Mikey gently grasped your hips. "(Y/N) you don't understand. Seeing you just hanging there, chained up and bloody, barely conscious. I thought I was going to lose you." He said, voice shaking with such immense emotion. "But you didn't. I'm safe now. Thanks to you." You cooed, snuggling back into the crook of his neck. "Now shut up and hold me."

Mikey couldn't help but laugh softly at you, holding you close and kissing your head again. You hummed softly and settled into him, allowing yourself to drift. "The things you do to me, my love". His muffled voice was the last thing you heard before you succumbed to slumber.

I wrote this at 3AM and I have no regerts. Fight me hoes.

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field // epilogue

summary: seven years later.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this part is quite tame! idk, discussion of the games as a concept is pretty messed up? obviously r & coryo are both delusional but whats new??

a/n: this is it :') thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!

series masterlist // playlist

~ seven years later ~

"You've got this, Darling. It's going to be perfect." Coryo insists, kissing your temple as you relentlessly adjust your hair, trying to tame any imaginary flyaways in your flawlessly straightened hair.

"As long as it's not a disaster..." You mumble, giving up on your hair and refocusing on making sure you have all your papers.

Arena map? Check. Tribute and mentors list? Check. Schedule?

"With you in charge, I do not doubt that it will be anything short of flawless. I know you. You wouldn't have it any other way." Your husband assures you, taking your spot in front of the large mirror to adjust his red coat, matching to yours.

You sigh, tucking the large stack of meticulously organized papers into your bag. "I mean, does anyone honestly expect it to be perfect? It's my first games... There's a small margin for error, right?"

"No." Coryo replies sternly, turning to face you. He grabs your chin as you groan, forcing your eyes to meet his. "There's no room for error, but it will be perfect. So don't worry." He plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "And if you need anything, just call."

"Okay..." You hum, smiling as you look up at him. "I'm going to miss you, though." Your smile shifts into a pout, and he kisses your forehead.

"I know. I'll miss having my assistant around, too." He mumbles against the softness of your skin.

Your time working together under Dr. Gaul had been a dream. Why did everything have to change all at once? You've been together every day for years, and you had the most fun helping plan the games and pitching all your ideas to Dr. Gaul, staying up late over ideas due the next morning and too many cups of coffee, giggling over how funny it would be to see a games where the people of the Districts got to vote over who to send in.

"Do you think it's because that's kind of what happened to Lucy Gray?" You giggled in the dark, feeling Coryo's form shift under the blankets next to you before you felt his breath hit the side of your face.

"Now that you mention it..." He laughed quietly. "Yeah, it totally was."

You had always come up with Dr. Gaul's favourite ideas together. But now, she was gone. And it was just you. You honestly thought that woman was some kind of immortal beast, but clearly, no one is fully bulletproof.

She had offered the position of Head Gamemaker to both of you in her will. You and Coriolanus had worked well together, she had always said that about you. That the two of you were her favourite experiment.

"No, Darling. You take it."

"What? No, we've always done everything together." You protest, furrowing your brow. "She's offered it to both of us, we can do whatever we want, no more waiting for her approval. We can run with it! Come on, it'll be so fun, Coryo."

"That's your dream. Not mine." He smiled at you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You frowned, focussing yourself on pulling the buttons of his shirt so they were perfectly aligned. "Are... Are you sure? I don't know if I can do it without you."

"You'll never do anything without me, you know that." He hummed, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "If you need help, just ask. I'm right here. Always."

"I'm not an assistant anymore." You laugh. "Technically, you're kind of my assistant now." You shrug, leaning down to pull on your shoes, white with bottoms red to match your coat.

"Okay, well, I wouldn't put it like that..." He laughs, shaking his head at you and holding out a hand to steady you while you adjust yourself to accommodate your heels.

You take it gratefully, standing up and brushing off your coat once more with your free hand. "Be honest, Coryo, do you think the bear is too much? I feel a little like it's cheating, they don't even really have a chance. Do you get what I mean?"

"Darling," He cups your cheeks in his hands. "No one will be able to look away. That's the most important part."

"I just... I want it to be something different. Something people will still want to watch."

"Everyone will be watching." He assures you. "Now, let's get going. You have a big day ahead."

"Yes sir, Mister President."

"My name is Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman, your favourite and only host of the annual Hunger Games on Capitol TV, and I have a very special treat for you all this morning before the beginning of the games." You gently remove your coat as you sit down across from Lucky, holding it out for someone to take before the cameras flit your way, though the live audience can already see you.

"For anyone who lives under a rock, this beautiful woman here with me is our lovely First Lady of Panem, and now, Head Gamemaker, Dr. Y/N Snow." He continues as your coat is taken away, and you smile across at him. "Thank you so much for squeezing us into your very busy schedule. Now, how are you feeling about today, Miss Snow?"

"Doctor is fine." You correct him politely, to which he utters a quick apology. "And I am feeling very good about my first games. Dr. Gaul left some big shoes to fill, but I've been working with her for years so I have some really exciting ideas that I just can't wait for the world to see."

"Yes! I'm certain you do." Lucky grins. "Now, I don't know how much of our audience will remember this, but the first time we met was during the tenth games, I was hosting for the first time and you and your husband were both mentors! Just young academy students with some big dreams, isn't that right?"

You laugh, nodding as he speaks and letting the cheers die down. "Yes, I remember that. All of us were kind of getting a feel for how things would work, and my husband was actually the one who came up with the ideas of betting and sponsorships. He has truly always been such a leader, and so smart. He was the one who asked Dr. Gaul if I could help him with his mentorship, and she agreed, and then she just really loved how well we worked together so she kept us around to study under her all these years. It has been such a fun and kind of... fulfilling journey for us both."

"And now, here you are." He nods at you.

"Here I am." You echo it back to him, waiting for another question.

"Now, we have to address what can only be described as the elephant in the room..." He starts, and you try and hide your confused look as you straighten your posture. If there was some kind of problem you should have been made aware before you set foot on stage. "That summer, after your mentorship. Tell us. What happened? Both of you disappeared off the face of the earth right after your success in the games, then came back with these shiny new internships under Dr. Gaul, how did you swing that?"

"Oh!" You laugh, partially relieved it wasn't about these games, but hesitant because everyone knows better than to bring up the tenth games in any sort of detail. "Well, that was the beginning of our internship with Dr. Gaul, and she wanted us to gain some life experience, so we did some touring of the Districts on our own to get to know the people of Panem better. Neither of us had ever left home before, so it was definitely a unique experience that I think was really good for both of us. It was a super secret thing, for some reason. We weren't even to tell our families."

"I see! Well, I hope you learned everything you sought out to?"

"We did." You nod. "And more."

"Okay, well, with that cleared up, tell us more about the games you have planned for us this year. Is there anything new we should be expecting?"

"Oh, definitely." You nod, smiling wide now that you can once again talk about your games. "But I wouldn't want to spoil anything, so everyone will just have to watch." You shrug.

"I don't know if you are aware of this, Dr. Snow," He leans in a little closer, smile on his face. "But one new thing that we know for sure is changing this year, is that the president, your husband, has made it mandatory to watch the games. Not just here in the Capitol, but everywhere in the Districts as well. He made an announcement just this morning, he wants everyone to see what you've worked so hard for."

"Aw." You blush, pressing your hands to your chest. "That's so sweet! No, I didn't know that." The audience eats up your reaction, and you try to keep your eyes on him instead of acknowledging all the clapping and shouts from below you.

"Well, that's just about the cutest surprise! He has a lot of confidence in you." He laughs, reaching over and patting your leg. "You've all heard it here, he's just as good a husband as he is a president!"

"It's true." You agree, hardly audible over the crowds enthusiasm.

"Speaking of your husband..." He says, turning back to look into the wing of the stage and nodding at someone. "He set us up with a little surprise for you, if you don't mind."

"Oh, please." You laugh, covering your face as your cheeks heat up. "Of course he did." You shake your head, whistles from the audience not helping your blush.

"Okay, you can look now. Don't hide!" Lucky laughs, and you lower your hands from in front of your face to be presented with a bouquet of white and red roses. It wasn't an extravagant gift from him, the amount of roses he has gifted to you since your return from Twelve together is astronomical by now, but it's a gesture you cherish nonetheless. You smile as you take them.

"Beautiful, as always." You grin, making a point of smelling them before handing them back to the assistant who's waiting with a vase for them.

"And we have one more thing here, I believe..." He hums, looking back again while you're distracted passing off the wrapped flowers.

When you turn back to look at him you gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth, fearless of whether or not you would smudge your lipstick. "Is that for me?" You ask, voice higher in octave from the excitement as one of the stagehands walks out with a small dog, fur dyed a soft shade of red with a matching bow around its neck.

"Indeed it is!" Lucky laughs as you're handed the puppy.

"Oh my god..." You smile, tears brimming in your eyes. "Hi there..."

"I think there's a note for you there too..." Lucky urges you and you grab the tag tied onto the bow. "Mind reading it for us?" He says, holding his handkerchief out to you.

"Thank you," You laugh, dabbing under your eyes with your free hand. "A new assistant to match your shoes." You read, laughing at the inside joke.

Everyone laughs, and you get from Lucky's confused expression that you should explain. "Uh, working under Dr. Gaul we would always joke that he was my assistant and vice versa." You laugh, wiping your eyes again before you continue. "I am so proud of you. Finally, the world will see you as I do. Intelligent, strong, and beautiful. Unstoppable. That's why I love you, you're as pure as the driven Snow."

The audience awe's, but you know none of them get it the way you do. "Another inside joke." You nod at Lucky, trying to hold back from crying so much you turn into a mess.

"I stand corrected. That is the cutest surprise." He points to the dog in your lap. "Both literally and figuratively."

"I don't know what I'll do with it." You laugh, shaking your head as the puppy jumps up against your chest, trying to lick your face.

"How about a name, to start?" Lucky prompts you.

"Oh, gosh. Well..." You giggle, lifting it and setting it back down so it will sit in your lap. It's so small, hardly bigger than your hands. It'll likely never grow larger than your lap. It's perfect. "What about Lucky?" You tease.

"Oh, you flatter me, Y/N. Come on, something better."

"I don't know!" You laugh. "I'm not good at naming... things."

Lucky laughs. "Our Head Gamemaker with no ideas? That seems unlikely."

"Okay, okay. You're just putting me on the spot here, I'm a little nervous." You laugh, stroking over the dog's head. "I tell you what, before the games begin this morning I'll come up with twelve names, assign them randomly to the districts, then whoever shall win the games will determine the name of my dog. Does that sound fair?"

"Ah! That's brilliant!" Lucky laughs, clapping his hands together. "And that's a good incentive for anyone who hasn't yet placed their bets or sent in donations for the tributes! Your donation may just be what gives the First Lady's dog its name. How fun!"

"It'll be interesting." You giggle, looking down at the puppy in your lap. It must have been white before the dye, it took so well. Maybe it will fade into a pink before it grows out its natural white fur- you wouldn't want it to stay red forever, but for show, it was perfect.

"Now, we really shouldn't be taking up any more of your time. You have a busy day ahead!" Lucky says and you nod in agreement, standing up and carefully tucking the small dog under your arm. "Thank you for making time for us, I know I'm looking forward to seeing what you have in store for us."

"Thank you. I really hope you all enjoy the games!" You smile, holding out a hand for him to shake which he takes quickly, then allowing you to walk off the stage.

As predicted by a certain Mister President; Coriolanus Snow, your first games as Head Gamemaker went without a hitch. They were perfect in every way. Capitol citizens were buzzing- not just about the games, the mutts you incorporated into the newly decorated arena, or the most shocking kills, but also about your dog. The people loved her, and so did you. She hardly ever left your lap or your side for the duration of the games, which only lasted a matter of days.

The party your husband threw for you at the presidential palace, your home, at the end of the games was extravagant. Coryo couldn't help but broadcast his pride to all of the Capitol. He loved you; you were his, and he needed everyone to know. Not a soul in all the world was anywhere close to being on your level, and shaping you into the perfect wife and First Lady was what Coriolanus Snow considered his greatest achievement. As you stood next to him, his palm tucked neatly against your lower back, you were perfect. More perfect than you were the day you fought for a spot in the mentorships that he granted you, more perfect than the he first time he kissed you, and more perfect than both of the days he had killed someone for you. Without question, he would do it all again if it meant he would get to hold you even just one more time.

"I'm so proud of you, Love." He gently rubs your back, looking down at you while you overlook your garden from the patio off of your bedroom.

You smile, standing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Snow lands on top." You whisper, biting your lip when you see a shift behind his eyes.

"You bet we do." He hums with a smug smile, lifting you up and carrying you back inside.

And somewhere, thousands of miles away in the Northern shambles of a still recovering District Thirteen, while you and your husband are celebrating, Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray Baird share knowing, sorrowful glances when it's announced on the crackling radio that the winner of the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games was a boy from District Two, and because of this, the First Lady of Panem's dog shall be called Sage.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!