#my sad sweet horse girl man deserved better

[ichore]

FRISSON | SNAKE (VINLAND SAGA)

synopsis: upon hearing the news of you becoming single, snake takes it upon himself to comfort you

pairing: snake x fem!reader

wc: est. 2.1k

tags, warnings: smut, cunnilingus, unprotected p -> v, snake is obsessed with you, this fic is lowkey self-indulgent | @rottiens

Snake wasn’t one to meddle in his men’s personal lives, but the furrow between his brows deepened as he overheard his subordinates consoling their comrade with promises of a barrel of wine and a new girl to ease the sting of his parting from you. It was a mutual decision, the man claimed. Snake clicked his tongue against his teeth, unable to stomach any more of their foolish chatter.

His thoughts drifted instead to you — your hands deftly slicing vegetables as you prepared him dinner, the seagrass basket brimming with crops resting effortlessly against the curve of your hips. He wondered if your work on the farm ever left accidental bruises on your skin, and how sweet it would feel to kiss each one, tasting you as he soothed them away. No — he could never agree to leave you. 

With a swift kick of his heel, he urged his horse to gallop faster, putting distance between himself and the fool who had once been your lover. “You lot keep patrolling this area. I’m heading that way,” he barked to his men before veering off on his own. The closer he got to your house, the more impatient he became, each passing second only deepening his need to see you.

By the time he stood before your door, night had fallen. The moon hung high on the iron-hued sky, and the flicker of firelight glowed softly through the cracks in the wooden frame. The aroma of freshly made supper wafted out, but for once, his hunger had nothing to do with food. All he wanted was to see your face.

When the door creaked open, his heart sank at the sight of your tear-streaked lashes, your eyes rimmed with red sorrow, your chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. His fists clenched at the thought of your former lover finding solace in another woman’s arms while you sat here, weeping above the meal you had lovingly prepared for him.

“What brings you here, Snake?” you asked, your voice shaky, barely above a whisper.

“Heard the news. Thought you might need some company,” he replied, his tone gruff, an attempt to mask the ache your sad smile stirred in his chest.

“Come in,” you said softly.

As he stepped inside, his broad frame seemed to fill the room, the firelight casting shadows across his sharp features. He set his sword down as you poured him a bowl of soup, your hands trembling slightly.

“How come you came here and didn’t tag along with the others?” you asked. You knew very well how the guards console their heartbroken comrades, and given Snake’s reputation as a gallivant, it surprised you to see him at your table.

“I’m more interested in how you’re doing,” he said, his emerald gaze steady on you. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me. It’s about time I returned the favor.”

“Well, I was fine during the day. Work had my mind occupied a little, but I'm afraid the silence and the lonely night will break my heart in two at times. But it's just a part of life. You're a smart man, you know that,” you sat ahead of him, your tears pouring as you watched the steam curl above his bowl.

“Look at you,” he pushed the food to the side to be able to reach across the table and place his calloused hands on yours, his thumbs caressing the back of your gentle hands. “You're going through so much pain and you still find a way to flatter me. You deserve better than him. No sane man would leave a woman like you,”

“I hardly believe he's been viewing me as a woman in a long while, but … I shouldn't tell you this, you're his boss.”

Snake's hold tightened on your skin, his emerald stare studying your cheeks that you turned away in shame until he realized just what you meant by your words. “How long since…?”

“It's been months.” you took your hands out of his hold to wipe away your tears began to swell faster and played drums against the wooden table. You rested your face against your palms as you began to sob uncontrollably, your body trembling ahead of him.

This sight of you painfully clawed at his heart and set his soul into a flickering ember of rage. To think one of his men dared to make you think less of yourself by not worshiping your body every night angered him.

He was searching for you in every girl he chased after on Ketil's farm ever since he first laid eyes on you; your hair shining in the afternoon sunlight, the curve of your brows, the kind light in your eyes and the gentle simper sitting on your lips whenever you greeted him. No matter how many women moaned under him, he always wished it was your laughter vibrating against his lips. And to think he respected his subordinate's relationship with you to find out he took you for granted, “What an idiot,” Snake mumbled as he stood up and made his way over to you. “Come here.”

His shadow loomed over you before he sat down next to you, his palm finding the curve of your nape to lead your face to his shoulder as his other hand caressed across the length of your back. He smelled of horse sweat and leather, the frostbitten mud stench of wind still lingering on his shirt as your tears wetted the material. His warmth wrapped around you as his stubble tickled the sensitive skin of your temple, and his fingers massaged the back of your head and his other hand found the small of your back to pull you closer against him. “You deserve better than him. Someone who worships every inch of your perfect being, who thanks the Gods they get to wake up right beside you and the first thing they see is your beautiful face. Someone who yearns to have your pretty lips moan their name like a mantra every night.”

“Snake…” you whispered breathlessly as his words became hot against your sensitive neck, forcing you to hold your thighs together tightly while the liquid luster began to dwell in between them. You let go of his back, placing your arms between you and him to be able to pull away and look at his face. His dark locks framed his desire filled face, his eyes dark with wanton that threw your heart into a burning ache and need to taste his lips. But for a second, you hesitated. “So you're just a man, after all,” you whispered with a trembling voice. “Thought I'd entertain you tonight? After having my heart broken? I'm nothing but an easy prey to you.”

“There's nothing ‘just’ about the way I've been feeling about you. Had your love for another man not blinded you, you would've realized it a long time ago,” he smoothed his knuckles against the soft of your tear-streaked cheeks before his palms cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away the remnants of your lament. Your lips trembled, parting instinctively as he claimed them for his own that night; he tasted of dried meat and cheap, red wine as his tongue deepened the kiss with a fervor that made your breath hitch. “Your kiss is even sweeter than I've ever imagined,” he whispers, his fingers tangled in your hair at the back of your head to gingerly tug at it and open your neck for his trail of kisses.

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage with guilt and excitement; to make love with your past lover's boss in the same bed you adored him in for years on the same night you two parted ways. Yet, Snake's words and touches made such eager moans bubble in your chest. Heat rises to your cheeks as you notice the bulge tenting on his lap, a wet spot expanding on his pants while the tip of his tongue rushed across your collarbone.

“Don't think of him,” he whispered, sensing your hesitation from the way your moans got stuck at your throat. “Think of me. Only me. I'll show you how beautiful you are. Will you allow me? Yes?”

It was strange to see him like this - always so composed and calculated, now so eager, almost pleading, just for a taste of you. You nodded, and in an instant, his strong arms lifted you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you, laying you gently across the bed beside the flickering glow of the fireplace.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as he began to expertly remove your clothes, his movements precise yet reverent. His gaze swept over you, drinking in every inch of your revealed skin, his dark eyes heavy with desire that made your heart race as his face was between your thighs.

“I can't believe I finally get to taste you, gorgeous, and you're so wet for me already,” he took his pointing and middle fingers to spread your folds, rushing his fingerpads across while the thumb of his other hand found your clit. “Soaking fucking wet, dripping.”

“Oh, gods,” your cheeks flushed into crimson at his words and the way he never broke eye contact with you, not even when his upper lip teased your clit and his tongue sheathed into your gummy walls as two of fingers massaged them inside. It made your back arch and your face turn away as a sharp peak of pleasure was building at the pit of your stomach.

“Don't look away from me, sweetest,” he got on his knees to have his palm on your nape, gently forcing you to look into his eyes as his fingers took you to your first orgasm and tears of pleasure swollen in your eyes. Your wetness overflowed, traveling down on your body and pooling under you by the time he was done and he was licking his fingers while his thighs spread your legs open. The mix of your liquid desire and his saliva coated the tip of his dick while he rushed it across your folds. “I'll fuck that bastard right out of your pretty your head, okay? You want it?”

“Yes, Roald, please,” the sound of his real name falling from your lips, the eager arch of your pack to have his cock inside you immediately made him stop with any teasing and he slowly pushed himself in. His jaw hung low as he felt himself stretching you out, the vehement pulsing in your walls massaging his dick. His size snuffed the air out of you, making your brows furrow as the two of you watched him push the last inch in until his dark pubic hair was right against your clit. 

“You feel like you were made just for me, sweetest,” Snake placed his elbow right next to you, his naked chest resting against your breasts as he brushed your hair out of your face before he kissed you. “I love that you remember my name even though I told you about it once in a fleeting moment. Now, I want you to scream it to your heart's content. Don't hold back.”

As he began to move, his pace fast and measured, your nails raked across his back. Each thrust drew out a new whimper or moan against his groans, making you tightly wrap your legs around him as his hands rested on your shoulder blades to keep you in space. You felt your body reaching the heavens over and over again underneath him, your throat was dry from screaming the syllables of his name and your lips were raw from his kisses and love bites.

“Cum with me, gorgeous.” he groaned against your ear as his rhythm became uneven, but harder and faster. You felt the tip of his dick harden and throb before his seeds filled you up. His dark locks fell onto your face as he left gentle pecks all over your forehead, nose, eyelids and jawline while he kept cumming inside you. You whimpered each time his dick twitched with its last drop, and you moaned as he slowly pulled himself out.

“I made quite the mess here, darling,” Snake chuckled to himself as he found his subordinate's shirt to wipe you clean before he found a blanket to cover you with. Your gaze followed him as he put his clothes back on, your heart already aching at the thought that perhaps every word he told you that night was a lie.

As if he could read your thoughts, he sat right beside you and pressed his lips against your forehead. “I'm still on duty and I have to check on Gramps. I'll come back as soon as I can. I want you to rest now, sweetest.”

[quill-pen]

Personally, I hate Valentine's Day for a variety of reasons, but I know Bess likes it. So let's think about her today with...

💌Valentines Through the Eras; A Timeless Scroogeverse Reminiscing

💝George Era:

Bess loves Valentine's, but not when it comes to celebrating it in school. The kindergarten Valentine's Day party completely ruined that for her when all her classmates tore up and threw her Powerpuff Girl themed Valentine cards away while laughing in her face.

Then of course she opened her own to find them all defaced with graffiti insulting her. Barbie in scribbled on facial hair and stink-lines telling her she smelled. Bratz with huge freckles, declaring how ugly she was. My Little Pony characters saying they didn't want to be her friends. Power Rangers, Spider-Man, and TMNT all boasting altered messages about how dumb, gross, and weird she was, and wishing her a bad Valentine's.

Along with the Valentine's were crumbled cookies, broken and ruined toys, half-eaten, sticky candies. Her Valentine's box was defaced with scribbled artwork of a large, brown smudge, labelled as "pOOp", as if she couldn't guess what it was meant to be.

Bess went home in tears that day, ruined box and all its contents in hand to show her mother proof of how mean her class was to her. Bea never believed her when Bess reported bullying stories to her. She didn't believe Bess even with the evidence. Or if she did, she didn't care, just like always.

It wasn't until George came over that night to take Bea out for supper and saw Bess' puffy eyes, tear-stained face, and the box that Bess received any sort of comfort: a promise that they would get a Valentine's Day do-over tomorrow, just the two of them.

And he held true to that promise, picking her up early and taking the little girl out for a special breakfast of any-flavored, heart-shaped pancakes. He gave her a big Valentine in the shape of the stuffed horse she'd had her eye on for a long while. He took her to the zoo and to the children's museum where he played with her. He took her shopping to get whatever she wanted: a new Barbie and a couple Barbie playsets, one big and one small. He showered her with affection and words of affirmation, telling her how pretty, nice, smart, funny, sweet, etc. she was.

George let his little Mudpuppy know she was loved, special, and wanted. He let her know she mattered, and she deserved to be treated with kindness.

From that Valentine's on, George always made sure he was around to help Bess play hooky on the day of the class party and take her out on the town to treat her.

Bess never knew what happened to her Valentine's boxes or Valentine's afterward because they were always gone from the classroom the next day. But she didn't care. Valentine's Day dates with George were a million times better than anything she could have gotten from her classmates.

Eventually, unfortunately, due to many factors of life, those dates with George ground to a halt.

Of course, Bess was a bit sad, but she didn't mind all that much with little siblings to love on and receive love from in turn now as well as George.

And George always still managed to get her something and/or treat her to a meal.

But still, Bess wanted to have a tradition like those all-day Valentine's dates again with somebody. Maybe make them romantic this time around.

💝Oliver Era:

When Oliver came into the picture, Bess thought, for a very brief time, that this was something that could happen with him. After all, they were officially a couple. Even if it wasn't a full day of celebration, even just a nice evening dedicated solely to them and their relationship, would have been amazing.

Bess quickly learned better on that first Valentine's Day of their relationship.

Oliver took her to breakfast in the same greasy little cafe off campus that he always took her to when they decided to eat out for breakfast.

Bess had never been a particularly picky person when it came to food or where she ate, but this place never failed to turn her stomach sour with anything she ate there. Oliver knew that, but always insisted on them going there anyway: It was "his spot" where he knew everything, everyone, and had "never had a bad meal". Bess begged to differ.

Knowing making a fuss would only upset Oliver and put him in a terrible mood the rest of the day, Bess endured, thinking maybe she could just have some yogurt with fruit and a coffee (that she'd turn to syrup with sugar to try and choke it down).

Oliver immediately changed that plan by insisting her order for her. "It's Valentine's Day, after all," he pointed out. "Let me treat my little woman." His smile was probably meant to be sweet, but it felt belittling and mocking.

Bess knew she should have felt anything other than the dread she did.

Her stomach was already churning by the time the waiter walked away with their order, both at the thought of the food coming her way and the way Oliver had kept referring to her as his "little woman". But that was true, wasn't it? She was his girlfriend. Why did it make her skin crawl?

"You do have money with you, right?" Oliver asked expectantly.

"I thought you were treating me."

"I did. I drove you here and ordered for you. And I'll cover the tip if you want."

Bess sighed and rolled her eyes, but made no further comment. They'd hardly been together six months, and she was already exhausted and exasperated with this boy. But nothing was ever perfect, right? Every relationship had its ups and downs and flaws. This relationship just needed some work.

After a breakfast of burnt bacon, undercooked omelettes, and half-raw hashbrowns dripping with grease that smells like fish, Oliver took her to class, promising something extra special that night. For some reason, Bess didn't feel so enthusiastic. Her already lacking enthusiasm drops even lower when Oliver refused to kiss her goodbye: "People are watching, Specks."

Unsurprisingly, it was right for Bess to feel wary of the night's activities: Oliver's "extra special" night was just inviting her over to his dorm to have a movie night with his buddies.

The movies? A marathon of bad, Valentine's-themed b-movies. All of them horror--Bess' least favorite genre. She had to walk out about 15 minutes into the second film (a Valentine's rip-off of the Halloween franchise with more gratuitous debauchery and a Michael Meyers stand-in dressed like Cupid... who still wore the weird mask for some reason?). Oliver didn't even realize she left--none of the guys did.

Bess went home and ended Valentine's Day alone (Debbie was out with her boyfriend) with no flowers, treats, cards, or even so much as a Valentine's text from her boyfriend. She quietly cried herself to sleep from the disappointment.

The years went by with Oliver and Valentine's Days never got better. Even when Bess tried to make something out of the day, it ended up being a complete disaster as something was never right according to Oliver.

Eventually, Bess just gave up on her dream of ever having a romantic Valentine's Day. Or a romantic anything, honestly. Perhaps romance just wasn't in her cards; maybe she didn't get to be swept off her feet and treated like a queen. After all, no one gets everything they want. "But I hardly ever get anything I want."

Their last Valentine's Day together wasn't even acknowledged. Admittedly, Bess waited all day to see if Oliver would make any sort of comment about how she didn't get him something, as she always went out of her way to get him a little gift or treat for the holiday, even when he never did for her. He never did.

What he did do, however, was "complain" to her about how he'd kept getting handed Valentine's and secret notes from bridal party members and wedding guests from the wedding he'd been second shooter at all day. "I just couldn't believe it--all these total babes just handing over stuff like that to me! I mean, I was all like, 'Ladies, please! I'm a professional at work here. Not that I'm not flattered, but I gotta concentrate on my art here. I don't have time for hookups in the storage closet." "Also you're kinda, ya know, engaged." "Hmm? Oh, yeah, right, whatever."

Bess gave up any hopes of ever feeling happy or truly loved in this relationship.

💝Gal Pals Era:

The first Valentine's in London was rough. Not only was Bess far away from home and family (that she knew well), she was also working.

Being kept busy in the maternity ward did help take her mind off of things, however, and there were a few beautiful little babies born that night. So Bess couldn't claim the holiday as bad one. (Though she did have to talk a father down from naming his son 'Valentine' as the mother was too out of it after surgery to do it herself but had made it clear on previous visits that she did not want that to be the child's name.)

That second time around though, was a much different story.

By the second London's Valentine's Bess, Connie, Addie, and Gal had all found each other, and the 1843D girls had bonded together tighter than a Gordian knot. They were bound to make the most of that bond.

Undeterred by the lack of beaus in their lives, the girls took it upon themselves to turn their first Valentine's all together into a celebration to be remembered.

"A Galentine's!" Connie had exclaimed one morning out of the blue. She'd come running from the bathroom with toothbrush in hand and frothy, minty lips. "Let's have a Galentine's! We'll all dress up for each other and go out together!"

The idea was a perfect one, and plans were immediately put into play. Bookings were made, new outfits were purchased, and work shifts were made sure to be filled in.

The evening of, after spending the afternoon sequestered away in rooms at the Dowager Countess of Calloway's (better known as Granny FeFe's) townhouse, readying themselves, all four girls presented themselves to both FeFe and their beloved landlord and surrogate grandfather Michael Pippersnipe, making grand entrances down the grand staircase of the Dowager's front hall.

According to FeFe and Pippersnipe, they had never seen more beautiful young ladies in all of their long years.

It was clear to see, they were being anything but facetious.

London has never known such celebration of sisterhood until that night. All four girls ate and drank their fill, danced and sang to their heart's content, celebrated both themselves and each other.

"A toast!" Addie declared at some time in the night, dashing a champagne glass to the heavens as though it were a golden chalice claimed in victory. Perhaps it was far greater than that.

"A toast to the bonds of sisterhood and friendship! Such loves are often overlooked and underestimated to be lesser than most. But it's been made clear to me in this year of trials and tribulations, of ending the old and beginning the new, that sisterhood and friendship are some of the most powerful and wonderful bonds the world has to offer. After all, what is a friend? A single soul, dwelling in two bodies."

"Aristotle," Connie remarked with a soft smile.

Gal chortled: "'n' t'at's why she be t'e writer."

Smirking, Bess stood and raised her glass as she began reciting: "I'll be there for you when the rain starts to pour. I'll be there for you, like I've been there before. I'll be there for you, 'cuz you're there for me too."

She cast a goofy smile around the table. "The 'Friends' theme song."

The table broke into fits of giggles and good natured groans at that. And then everyone was raising their glasses in toast. "To sisterhood!" The sound of crystal glass clinking together tinkled out through the night.

A night made for lovers and romance taken over by the love and joy of found family.

It was truly a Valentine's never to be forgotten.

And I think we're going to stop it here because, I know me, and I know when I dive into the Wolf era it is likely to get long and graphic.😅. So we'll just wait on that, and keep this cute and wholesome for now!

@rom-e-o I will probably dive in at some point to actually turn Galentine's into a fleshed out ficlet at some point, so if you want to add ideas, go right ahead.☺️

[allylikethecat]

Hi Ally!!! How are you? How’s your day been?

Girl I was STRUGGLING today I think I’ve built a caffeine tolerance because I had two energy drinks and was yawning ALL. DAY. Anyway, I think I’ll take a caffeine break and hopefully my celsius will work its magic again haha

ATKH: the update was wonderful I’m always rooting for Fictional!Matty and George in every fic but this fictional!Matty to not immediately forgive and/or beg for Fictional!George back.. I’m so sad for our sweet Matty because I’m sure he’s trying so so hard to not disappoint everyone and do good at the competition but the fact that he’s SELLING SALLY and MOVING BACK HOME??? I really hope we get to see how this is going down from Mattys pov and I need both George and Mattys reactions povs in the next chapter because GEORGE IS SURPRISING MATTY IN PERSON??? (I hope Matty punches him lol not really but maybe) 😭

MWFD: I’m also so sad for this fictional!Matty too :(. I’m happy he’s decided to work on self healing to be a good parent and I hope he can do it with George in his corner as well. I can’t wait for the other guys in the story to come back hopefully and everyone talks and everyone is happy (if that’s the path this story takes) I just wanna say again that I love this fic sm and I had never read mpreg before because I never thought it would be something I was into. Soooo infinite kudos to you for writing this I’m so glad I found it!!!

Talk shop Tuesday!

What’s does Infection!Verse George and Mattys wedding look like? Do they elope and have it be private and quick? Did they go all out and have a wedding? How would that work w the best man situation? Who asked Ross and who asked Adam to be their bestmans?

Which side of the bed do your George and Matties sleep on?

🥤

AHHH Hello My Dearest Smoothie Anon!! As always it is an absolute joy to hear from you!! I'm sorry to hear that today was a struggle 😭 I think I would actually cry if my Celsius stopped working... with how early I have to wake up to ride Pop before it gets too hot it is sometimes the only thing getting me through the day 😭 I hope tomorrow is better!!

ATKH: Poor Fictional!Matty he really tried his best and just couldn't get a break. He's trying SO HARD at the show, he doesn't want to disappoint anyone but he really is crumbling emotionally and physically. He's hit his breaking point and even though it's absolutely destroying him, horses are expensive and he doesn't know what else to do - Sally deserves more than he can provide at the moment and he needs to go crawl back to his father and regroup LOL sometimes I wonder if I should write a few one shots / a prequel of this universe from Fictional!Matty's POV but I know this fic is super niche so the fact that anyone is reading it in the first place is wild to me (and I feel like I can only have one super niche self indulgent fic at a time and em... I have another one of those in the works...) BUT AH Fictional!George is flying to Canada, we will see how Fictional!Matty feels about his arrival...

Ducklings: AHHH thank you so much for giving this fic a chance, especially if mpreg isn't your usual thing! Hey, Fictional!Matty might be really sad at the moment BUT at this point it can only go up from here right? Everyone knows now... which means Fictional!Matty (and everyone else...) can focus on healing! It's really gotten away form me and has turned into much more of a beast than anticipated and I'm so grateful for everyone that has stuck with it (and me!!) I hope you continue to enjoy how it all unfolds!

Talk Shop Tuesday: They have a small wedding, close friends and family (minus most of Fictional!George's family) only! It was very them. Fictional!Matty was slightly hungover after getting drunk the night before and showing up at Fictional!George's hotel room door sobbing that Fictional!George needs to leave while he still can, before it becomes official. Fictional!George obviously just tucks Fictional!Matty into bed because he's never leaving Fictional!Matty again if he can help it. Fictional!Hann originally stood with Fictional!Matty and Fictional!Ross originally stood with Fictional!George but because this is a fictional wedding and rules don't have to apply they switched halfway through. WOW this is making me really want to write the wedding oneshot...

I feel like I answered this already before a while ago but I can't find it or remember what I said 💀 BUT they don't necessarily have *sides* but rather Fictional!George sleeps closest to the door so that if someone where to break in he would be in the way to protect fictional!Matty. Fictional!Matty doesn't realize THAT'S why fictional!George always insists on sleeping closest to the door... he thought it was so he couldn't sneak out.

Thank you SO MUCH for sending me this ask, and for reading and for the continued support and being so all around wonderful!! I always smile so wide when I see you in my inbox!! I'm so grateful that you take the time out of your day to not only read my fics but to send me these kind of wonderful asks, just thank you SO MUCH. I hope the rest of your week goes better than today did, and that you're able to get some rest!

❤️Ally

[strangefellows]

oh if you want servants specifically though then Karna, Da Vinci, Tristan, David, Mordred, Ushiwakamaru, Jeanne (all flavors), Diarmuid, Nursery Rhyme, Frankenstein, and Mandricardo

HAHAHAHA YES....

First impression

Karna: Oh! More Indian servants! He's pretty.

Da Vinci: ARFHEDGLFAGGAGA MONA LISA DA VINCI? OH MY GOD FATE I LOVE THIS SHIT

Tristan: Oh, Tristan and Isolde guy, I know him-- wait what the fuck (spoken bc Camelot)

David: HKJDGAGAG OH GOD DAVID'S A FLIRTY TWINK /wheezes in jewish

Mordred: I....I love....what a design....what a personality....

Ushiwakamaru: After having flashbacks to Shishiwakamaru in YYH, I was like oh...horse girl!

Jeanne: Oh! Joan of Arc, hello girl you're pretty!

Jalter: EXCUSE ME WHAT IS THIS? WHAT IS SHE BASED ON-- OH DAMN THAT FUCKSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Diarmuid: Oh another Irish hero? Who are you? [looks him up] ...oh your poor bastard.

Nursery Rhyme: LOUD SUSTAINED BABEYYYYY

Frankenstein: Oh, gorl? OH, CUTE.

Mandricardo: Who is this sad lump of self-deprecation and why is he our friend, also what the fuck is Orlando Furioso?

Impression now

Karna: I kinda love him? He's a delight and so off kilter sometimes it's sweet, he's so sincere too, what a guy.

Da Vinci: Literally the best wine aunt a protagonist could have, I miss her, but also babyvinci is adorable.

Tristan: What a moron (affectionate). He's cute, though, I love his hair, what pretty hair.

David: LMAO TWINKLORD, but also boyyyy are you okay buddy? How's it been since Temple, you good?

Mordred: PRINCE OF MY HEART, THE BEST KNIGHT, MY FAVORITE, ABSOLUTELY MY TYPE, WHAT A BEST BOY, A WONDERFUL PERFECT SABER, COME HOME RIGHT NOW I BEG OF YOU I may not need more Sabers but I desperately want you in my Chaldea :(

Ushiwakamaru: WE STAN A FUCKING QUEEN, I LOVE HER SO MUCH, ONE OF MY FAVORITE RIDERS, KICK ASS TAKE NAMES BLOW DEMETER INTO THE SUN I LOVE YOU

Jeanne: She's...pretty! And can be funny! I don't have too many strong opinions about Ruler Jeanne but I'm sure when I finish Apocrypha I'll have more.

Jalter: I FUCKING LOVE HER SO MUCH SHE'S A TERRIBLE WEEB ASS TSUNDERE BRAT WHO HAS SO MUCH JUSTIFIED TRAUMA OVER HER HISTORICAL FATE AND OH MY GOD WHAT A GIRL, WHAT AN AVENGER, BEST PEFECT WONDERFUL.

Diarmuid: Oh, you poor sweet bastard, you deserved so much better. I like Cu better in regards to Irish Lancers, but this poor man needs a vacation. I like him.

Nursery Rhyme: BABEY X100, precious angel, darling girl.

Frankenstein: DAUGHTER!!! Tho again, need to finish Apocrypha, but as I do know Caules from Case Files, I'm glad he's her Master, he's a good kid.

Mandricardo: SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY, MY FRIEND!!! MY FRIEND!!! SWEET NERVOUS ANXIOUS BOY!!! I LOVE YOU I AM GOING TO READ FURIOSO SOMEDAY.

Favorite moment

Karna: Him and Jinako's interactions, always. Him and Jinako in LB4. Him vs Godjuna in LB4. Him being an absolute dingus in events, what a sweet no braincells boy.

Da Vinci: Probably her dramatics in Camelot, but also she's just really great in general, what a gal.

Tristan: His fight with Barghest in the beginning of LB6 was absolutely fucking gold, that was the coolest goddamn shit.

David: Specifically his ultra hardcore amazing finale/death scene in the Turas Realta manga Okeanos chapter, good god.

Mordred: So far, his part in LB3 was absolutely incredible and I just love him in general, but I think what's coming when I finish Apocrypha is going to blow all of it out of the water easily.

Ushiwakamaru: Her confrontation with Gorgon in Babylonia, specifically the anime version where it adds the little nursery rhyme Ritsuka taught her as she goes down and it made me sob like a little girl, but also the scene where Ritsuka tells her about the rhyme in the first place, that just struck me into my SOUL.

Jeanne: Again, I'll have smth definitive in Apocrypha, but right now her big damn heroes in Temple made me cry.

Jalter: Everything??? But no, her antics in Shinjuku were absolutely delightful, as was everything about the Serva*Fes Hawaii event even if I didn't manage to finish it bc it was my first event in the game.

Diarmuid: His helping Team Artoria against Gilles was really good in Zero, but oof ow ouch as well.

Nursery Rhyme: Her entire storyline in Extra destroyed me.

Frankenstein: Another "get back to me after Apocrypha", unfortunately, she's not very in focus in FGO.

Mandricardo: REVE DE DURENDEL!!! GOD THAT FUCKING CG, THAT SPEECH, I LOVE YOU MY SON MY BOY MY FRIEND OH MY GOD

Idea for a story

Karna: Listen the Mahabharata completely on its own sounds absolutely fucking insane I want to know more about Fate's version of eents.

Da Vinci: Da Vinci talk to me about your life talk to me about the Borgias, I'm going to throw the Ezio AC Trilogy at your head until you tell me your version of all of that stuff.

Tristan: Again, my kingdom for KOTR back when they were alive shenanigans, what was that fucking castle LIKE.

David: COME TALK TO ME ABOUT YOUR SON DAVID, LET'S BOND OVER BEING SAD ABOUT SOLOMON

Mordred: See Tristan's entry, but also just...I want to explore his relationship with his siblings more, Gawain and Gareth etc.

Ushiwakamaru: We've pretty well explored her backstory, so let's have some fun Chaldea shenanigans!

Jeanne: I don't have very many ideas here >>

Jalter: I want her to interact with more Servants, I want her to interact with the other Avengers, I want her to interact with everyone, I love her lots.

Diarmuid: GET THIS MAN A BEACH VACATION STAT

Nursery Rhyme: Her dialogues for other people + other people's at her is so fascinating, I want to see what she gets up to daily in Chaldea. Also an Alice in Wonderland pastiche with other Servants as the characters would be fucking rad.

Frankenstein: Let this girl TALK for five minutes please. Let her have a chance to be more like the monster in the book and vocalize her trauma and desires beyond grunts and noises.

Mandricardo: Just good times with our friend, please. Though he deserves to talk to the Paladins and have a crisis or three.

Unpopular opinion

Karna: I don't have enough opinions ON him XD

Da Vinci: IDK man I just love her a lot. ARE there unpopular opinions?

Tristan: Little bitch boy (affectionate) but IDK again I don't know FGO fandom as well.

David: I do feel sorry for him given the Son situation but also I'm going to toss him off a cliff for his shit in Okeanos.

Mordred: NOOOO IDEA LOL

Ushiwakamaru: I like her normal outfit just fine, though I also like the edited less revealing ones too. She looks fine yall.

Jeanne: ....she's kinda boring, sorry XDDDD

Jalter: I like her more as a tsundere weirdo friend of ours than I did as the EVIL ANGRY VILLAIN in Orleans

Diarmuid: None here! He's a good boy. OH WAIT I don't think his comedy duo shenanigans with Fionn are funny, Fionn needs to leave him alone.

Nursery Rhyme: shrug emoji

Frankenstein: uhhhhhhhh

Mandricardo: nope!

Favorite relationship

Karna: Him and Jinako fucks me up so hard, I'm so glad she has Karna.

Da Vinci: Da Vinci and Roman were adorable, wine aunt and neurotic dad. I also love her relationships with Gordy and Sherlock.

Tristan: The KOTR Idiot Trio is delightful. Look at these idiots, no braincells, all stupid, what a bunch of dorks.

David: I love me some complicated father/son relationships!

Mordred: See above lmfao. Artoria and Mordred Good, but also OH MY GOD HIM AND KAIRI ????? KAIRI DAD MODE?????

Ushiwakamaru: Her and Benkei is sweet NGL.

Jeanne: So far in Apocrypha her and Sieg are cute friends.

Jalter: Jalter and Salter should kiss.

Diarmuid: His mutual respectful admiration with Artoria makes me smile every time, not gonna lie.

Nursery Rhyme: Her and Alice, I WEEP. But her and the other littles in Chaldea are always precious.

Frankenstein: Her and Caules, her and Mordred.

Mandricardo: MY FRIEND MY FRIEND MY FRIEND [yells] but also GOD I want to see him interact with Roland and the other Paladins.

Favorite headcanon

Karna: I don't have any real headcanons for him...Jinako taught him to play very simple video games. He likes Candy Crush.

Da Vinci: Well she's obviously transfemme. But like, it's not even a headcanon so much, she was SO probably fucking half of Florence way back when.

Tristan: Not sure about headcanons! But he's definitely somehow the sluttiest of the KOTR Idiot Trio.

David: Local man cries in his room for an hour after Temple. Local man also possibly has a physical fight with Ozy on religious grounds at some point too. I saw him fucking roast Ozy in a fic once and it was glorious.

Mordred: He's 100% transmasc and only uses she/her still because he doesn't quite get he can just....not use those anymore. He and Caenis bond over similar situations. He has a little scar on his face.

Ushiwakamaru: Not entirely ABOUT her, but for my Fujimaru, she told Ushiwaka her late little brother used to love her and sing that rhyme, and that bit from the anime def happened.

Jeanne: I don't really have many?

Jalter: She and my Fujimaru fucked at least once, after Shinjuku. She has burn scars all over her body.

Diarmuid: Poor boy might actually be a very repressed gay, or at least very very asexual. Save him.

Nursery Rhyme: The entirety of Chaldea unanimously loves her, and she's a comfort to the human staff sometimes, who she visits and sits with to help them get some mental relief sometimes.

Frankenstein: One of the less shy staff members is teaching her and anyone who wants to learn ASL! Yay, ease of communication!

Mandricardo: Man's a Saracen he's darker than the game makes him look. You wouldn't know it to look at him but he can hold his liquor extremely well and can drink most people under the table.

[bakugosbratx]

Hi hi! Congratulations!! 🎊

Could I please request a fic with Eren or Levi and could they have some yandere tendencies? Like they’re too protective, gets jealous easily, would absolutely fuck you until you’re screaming so that the guy who’s been checking you out heard?

NSFW 18+ Let them hear you — Yandere Eren Jeager x Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Sexual content, bdsm, degrading, unprotected sex, oral, non-con, abuse, possessive, toxic relationship, gaslighting, Jean abuse, punishment, violence, etc.

Words: 1.9k

Check out my other works here

A/N: Hey love. Thank you so much for the request! I hope it meets what you are looking for. I am only on the third season so I apologize in advance for anything that seems uncanny. Enjoy.

P.S. I am still on break but I am trying to complete some request that have been sitting in my drafts. I miss y’all and will be back before y’all know it. Thank you for all the love and sweet messages.

“Eren, what are you—“

“Shut the hell up, Y/N.” Eren seethed through gritted teeth as he pulls you along. The death grip on your poor arm is making you cry out in pain. This only infuriated him more.

You did nothing wrong. You were eating your lunch with Mikasa when Jean strolled on over. It is not a secret that Jean likes you. Everyone knows that Jean likes anyone with a pulse. You have told the man multiple times that you are not interested — along with Eren — and you have a boyfriend, but it does not stop the man from trying. Especially when Eren is busy.

“Hello Y/N.” Jean greeted with a flirty smile. Your eyes couldn’t help but roll.

“Hello Jean.” You sigh as he sat across you two.

“What’s with the sad face, pretty thing? Eren got you down?” Jean chuckled before taking a bite of his sandwich.

You scoffed. “Me and Eren are doing just fine, thank you very much.”

“Well, your face says otherwise. If you ask me, I’d say you can do better than that douchebag anyways—“ Jean’s spill got interrupted with a hard punch to the side of the head then another one to the nose. Gasp filled the room as eyes landed on who did this to the man. No one was surprised to see it was Eren himself.

Eren grabs Jean by the collar of his shirt, lifting him up to meet his height. Eren’s natural blue eyes were filled with rage. “You son of a bitch. Why the fuck are you flirting with my girl, Jean? She told you more than once she’s not interested.”

Jean manages to release himself from Eren’s grip, stumbling to keep his balance. This is not the first time these two have had altercations with one another.

“Ha, you don’t see the way she looks at me. Besides,” he pauses to wipe the blood leaking from his nose, “she was totally flirting with me.”

“Bastard!” Eren bellows as he goes to attack again, but the higher ups stop him along with you and Mikasa.

“Eren, stop.” Mikasa and you demand, hanging onto his arms.

“Let go of me! I’m going to make that son of a bitch pay.”

“That’s enough, Jaeger.” Captain Levi scolds. Eren snaps out of his rage to meet the small man’s eyes. “In my office. Now.”

Though Eren is still angry, he still knows when to show respect. Especially when it comes to the higher ups. Everyone in the room knew this.

“Yes, sir.” Eren sighs, still breathing heavy.

“Eren,” You began with sorrow filled irises. Though this is in no way shape or form your fault, you cannot help but feel the guilt within your bones. If only you would have done more than maybe Eren would not be in this situation.

Eren just glared down at your small frame compared to his, clearly not happy with you. It was a look you know all too well and you know you will be in for it later. Your heart pounded against your ribs at the thought.

“We’ll talk later.” Eren hissed before following Captain Levi to his office.

Jean did not mess with you for the rest of the afternoon. Eren was sent to clean up the horse stables while the rest of the team did their chores. Eren made sure to have his eyes on you anytime you were in close proximity. His glare was one you always refused to meet with your own two eyes. It made you feel small. Just like how Eren wanted.

Your anxiety has been through the roof all day. No one can blame you, though. Eren is a loose cannon on a good day. So, your super barely being touched was noticed, but not discussed amongst your peers.

Strong hands touched your shoulders. You jumped out of reflex. Looking up, you see your boyfriend looking down at you.

“Eren!” You exclaimed with joy and fear. He noticed both emotions.

“Follow me.” Eren orders, patting your shoulder more rough than he should have. You did not even have time to comply as his hand snakes around your bicep and pulls you along.

“Eren, you’re hurting me.” You whine as he pulls you towards the closest bedroom available.

“Eren, what are you—“

“Shut the hell up, Y/N.” Eren seethed through gritted teeth as he pulls you along. The death grip on your poor arm is making you cry out in pain. This only infuriated him more.

Slamming the door open, he ushers you along inside and swiftly closed the door behind him. Your hand wraps around your now warm, pulsating arm. You can feel the heat from Eren’s glare down onto you. You start to tremble.

“Eren, I—“

“I said shut the hell up, Y/N.” Eren growls. He has taught you more than once to respect his orders, but you just cannot seem to listen. You will pay for that sooner than later.

Eren leans against the door, arms crossed as he heavily sighs. “What were you doing with Jean earlier today?” He finally asked. You turned to face him.

“N-Nothing!” You stammered. You know this made you sound guilty, but you are actually innocent. Just Eren knows how to intimidate you and when you’re in this position, your nerves take over.

Eren scornfully chuckled. “Please, do you really think I’m that dumb, Y/N?”

“I’m telling the truth, Eren! You know I don’t like Jean.” You spat. Your blood is boiling at this point. This accusation has been thrown at you more than once in your relationship and quite honestly, it’s getting tiring.

“Watch it.” Eren warned. You know you are not supposed to raise your voice towards him. He has corrected that behavior more than once and will do it again if necessary.

“Why was he sitting with you at lunch?” Eren interrogates after he notices you lose some confidence to yell at him.

You let out a deep sigh. “He just showed up. You know how Jean is.”

“And you didn’t stop him?”

“What was I supposed to do?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Tell him to fuck off!” Eren barks.

“And I did!” You argued back.

A small shriek escapes your lips as Eren charges towards you, wrapping his hand around your throat, and pushing you down onto the nearest bunk bed. You struggled to untangle his fingers as they squeeze your throat tightly.

“What did I say about talking back, slut?” Eren growls.

“I-I’m s-sorry, E-Eren.” You managed to get out as you lose circulation to your lungs.

“Oh, you will be. I’m going to make sure this filthy little mouth of yours will not be able to talk for weeks.”

Eren finally let’s go of your throat. You immediately cough. There is not enough oxygen in the room to get to your lungs fast enough it seems. Eren would argue and say you deserve it.

You hear a belt unbuckle along with his pants unzipping. His pants hang low on his hips as he watches you collect air. By the way his boxers are fitting quite snug, you know what is coming.

“On your knees.” Eren demands, pointing towards the creaky wooden floor below. You shook your head no, your eyes pleading. Eren did not respond to that well as he grabbed a hand full of hair and forced you to the ground.

“Do you ever fucking listen? I said on your damn knees.” Eren growls. You did not even have a chance to explain that you are not in the mood because Eren’s length is now being stuffed down your throat. You choked on Eren’s cock as every inch was entering your mouth.

Your nails clawed at Eren’s clothed abdomen. His hand never let up on your hair as he thrust in-and-out of you. You are choking, coughing for air, but Eren refused to show any ounce of mercy. In fact, he found it quite amusing. You should know better than to disrespect your boyfriend.

“Where is all that back talk now, princess? Don’t have shit to say with my cock down your disrespectful ass throat, do ya?” Eren mocks as takes another rapid thrust down your windpipe. Drool covered your chin and Eren’s dick. You can feel his girth stretch out your throat and he loves it. He loves seeing you struggle.

Pre-cum started to leak from his erected member. You are mentally thanking your maker. You needed a break and a gasp for air, but those prayers were answered quicker than expected. Eren pulls out his cock from your sore mouth. You let out pitiful coughs as he stroked himself to the sight of you.

“Strip then get in doggy.” He demands. Not wanting to make this worse for yourself, you do as your told. You are not even sure whose room this is. You just hope they do not walk into see the sinful things you and Eren are doing.

Each article of clothing fall to the floor and you get in the position Eren wants you in. All of your delicate tight holes are displayed for his taking. He walks over and spreads your ass out some more to get a better view. You yelp when a hard slap hits your ass.

Without warning, he brings you closer to him by latching his hands onto your hips and his cock slips into your tight cunt. Your walls do their best to expand to his girth, but no amount of sex with Eren can get you prepared for that. Your pussy takes in inch-by-inch. His stamina and merciless rhythm is forcing you to be accepting of his cock. Your knees shake under the pressure and your hands tightly grip onto the covers below.

A hard slap to your ass exploits the moan you have his behind your lips. “I kept your throat intact for a reason. Use it.” Eren scolds before hitting your ass again. You whimper.

“Eren.” You mewl.

“Yeah, who is making you feel this good?” He teases as he continues his venomous thrust.

“You do.” You sob. Your pussy is beginning to become accustomed to Eren’s erection and he is hitting all the right spots. He always does.

“Can Jean make you feel this good?” He groans, his knees slowly buckling beneath him.

“Never.” You wail. Your weeping cunt confirmed this as well.

“Damn,” he pants, “straight.”

Cum leaked from Eren’s cock deep into your cunt. You let out little moans as you became stuffed with Eren’s seed. Though you did not like he was not using protection, you have no say in the matter. This is for his pleasure and your punishment. You just have to take it like the good little submissive girl he taught you to be.

You milked every single drop of Eren before you were granted permission to put on clothes. Your hands intertwined as he lead you to the door. There stood Jean, Armin, and Conny. They all looked horrified as well as you. Eren’s smug smirk never left his features.

“What the hell are you doing in my room, Eren?” Jean exclaims in furry.

“Handling business,” he wraps his arm around Jean’s shoulder and let’s go of your hand to pat his chest, “By the way, thanks for letting me fuck my girlfriend on your bed.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

My Maribat Betrothal AU: Take Two

Okay so people like that post that is more of a train wreck produced by my sleep-deprived brain. I expanded on it and added some changes. Fair warning: Most of my ML and DC knowledge came from Maribat fics, a few episodes and the DCU movies like son of Batman. I have Mari's pov and background stuff written and it needs some editing. Anyways, enjoy <3

It is not a continuation but: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0

[Masterlist]

(Part 2)

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

PART 1

Damian groaned.

He was not having a good day.

First, Father decided to pair him with Todd, TODD of all people, for patrol.

Second, while doing a stake-out for the warehouse near the docks which might be used as storage for criminal activity and enduring Red Hood's annoying taunts, they both were knocked out by tranquilizers and his mother's face was the last thing he had remembered seeing.

"Don't worry, little one. You are just fulfilling your duties as heir to the Demon's Head. Then, all will be perfect." She had said, just before he fully lost consciousness.

Third, he woke up to being chained up with a major headache. Taking a bearing of his surroundings, the room he was imprisoned in had two exits, an iron door and a window that had the view of his childhood home. He was dressed in wedding ensembles of the League of Shadows. Red Hood was chained up next to him as well but unlike him, still had his suit and helmet on. Glancing to the other side, he saw a raven-haired girl, chained up and dressed in the black and gold robes of a bride. She had also retained consciousness and was staring at him.

Bluebell eyes met his piercing green.

His betrothal was petite with Asian features. She had freckles dotting her button nose and rosy cheeks.

She is fragile and will break easily, he thought. Why did his mother want him to marry such a weakling?

"Savez-vous où nous sommes? (Do you know where we are?)" Her voice was sweet and trembling with fear. Her eyes were wide and seemed filled with innocence yet carrying great sadness. She was an Angel, an ordinary girl, not fit for this harsh and unforgiving world she was forcefully going to get married to.

She opened her mouth to ask another question and suddenly, she went limp, appearing to be unconscious. Damian furrowed his brows in confusion. Why did she-

A moment later, he heard footsteps approaching and the iron door opened to reveal his mother.

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

Jason woke up to the sight of the Bitch Talia and Demon Spawn, face to face, glaring at each other.

Talia broke the tense silence.

"Damian, I hope you know what you should do."

"To be forcefully married to that little girl. She is no one special. Why am I getting married to her?"

Married? The Demon Spawn is getting married?!

Jason saw through his helmeted vision, a girl about Damian's age, chained up like them but not yet awake. He raised his hand and saw the shackles around his wrists. The chains were connected to the wall. He experimentally yanked the chains, drawing Talia’s attention.

“Well, Jason, you are awake. You can be the best man for the wedding.”

“No. I don’t know what game you are playing but you better release us. B is gonna find us and you will pay. Let the girl go. She is innocent in all of this.” Jason said vehemently.

"Ladybug may not seem like it but she possesses great power that my father converted for centuries. Speaking of, she should be awake by now."

Talia stood up and grabbed Ladybug’s(?) hair and yanked so that her eyes met the girl's. The girl, who unfortunately was going to be the Demon Spawn's bride, lets out a cry and starts to tear up. Jason felt anger at how she was being treated, seeing the girl as a little sister already.

"Tch, See, she is more pathetic than I thought. She is not powerful." Demon Spawn growled out. The girl starts babbling in French. From the little French Jason knows, she was begging for mercy.

“Like I thought, weak. She is not deserving of the title of my wife.” Damian spat out.

"Appearance can be deceiving. Despite her demeanor, she is the current wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Current Guardian. The old Guardian, the old fool had promised her in exchange for his protection." Talia countered, letting go of the girl.

Miraculous? Guardian? What the hell?

"That doesn't mean I want to marry her. She is not worthy of an Al Ghul or a Wayne. Look at her, crying at the slightest feeling of pain."

The mother and son begin to bicker. Damian refusing to marry and Talia trying to change his mind.

“Yes, both have to be willing to be married but the curse placed on both of you will ensure that you will agree.”

The dark haired girl had stopped crying and started whispering in a strange language when the fight started, fiddling with the silver ring she wore. Jason saw a terrifying smile crossed the face of the girl across him that chilled him to the bones. Later, a black blur came out of her robes and went through the door. He wondered if he imagined that before he was a determined glint in her eyes.

He blinked.

Talia was choking on the chains that were previously chained to the wall and were now around her neck. Fortunately for them, Talia had closed the door after her entrance and the guards most likely to be stationed outside didn’t storm into the cell. The girl whispered something in Talia's ear, making the woman's eyes widen with what could be fear.

The experienced assassin struggled to get free and gain an upper hand on the girl but was unsuccessful, passing out from the lack of oxygen and strangely strong grip of the small girl.

What happened next was surprising. She breathed hard on her shackles which instantly disintegrated into flakes of rust.

Holy Shit! Demon Spawn's girl is magic. Jason knows his mouth was hanging open under his helmet at that realization. Damian seems to be in the same state.

Talia didn't have the keys to the locks. Being crafty like that. Bitch

"Call me Lady." she said in lightly accented English as she summoned black orbs at the tip of her hands. “Stay still.”

She then proceeds to place her hands on Jason’s shackles, turning them into nothing more than specks.

"I am Red Hood." said Jason, rubbing his wrists.

"The little shit here," as he kicked Damian's leg, " is-"

"Damian Al Ghul" she said the last name with venom. She moved on to Damian's bonds. "Son of that bitch over there, grandson of Ra's, demon heir, blah blah blah. Hold still, mon mignon. I am sure you don't want to lose a hand."

Damian stopped moving at that, due to the pet name or fear Jason couldn’t tell but by the red at the tips of his ear, it could be the former. And she used her powers to free him.

Lady somehow managed to use what remained of the chains to hog tie Talia up.

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

“How do we get out?” Damian asked, inspecting the blade that he flinched from his mother.

“Hey, kit.” A nasally voice called out. “I checked out the place we are in. Like you asked. The way to the Throne room is heavily guarded and they seem to think old Ra’s the target. The Pits are guarded too but they are nothing you can’t handle.”

“What is that?” Jason shrieked.

“Thanks, Plagg, you will get that camembert danish when we get back. This is a kwami, a god of sorts and his thing is destruction so I wouldn’t insult him if I were you. He likes to go by Plagg”, answered Lady, which doesn’t clear up Jason’s confusion.

“So, Pigtails, what’s the plan?” The floating, black cat-shaped god(?) asked.

“I was thinking of destroying the Pits to give Al Ghul a middle finger and call Maman to use the Horse to get home.”

“We need Tikki to get rid of it..”

“I will just tell Maman to bring the earrings.”

Damian snorted, “That sounds like a foolish plan. You are insane and not strong enough to take on the League alone, despite having a ‘god’ of destruction at your side. This Tikki or magic earrings will destroy the Pits, many have tried. And sorry to disappoint but no horse can make it up the mountainside of Nanda Parbat.”

“Have to agree with Demon Spawn here and I rarely do that. Your plan sounds insane, Pixie. You are just one girl. Let us help, we know the League better than you. We can come up with a better one.” Jason was worried for the girl, she was crazy if she thought her plan would work.

Lady smirked, “It is a perfectly sound plan. I know what I am talking about. Despite the weak girl act, I am no Damsel in distress. After this is all over, we will split our ways and hopefully, never see each other again.”

“We can’t separate. My mother said there is a curse that will ‘make us fall in love.’” Damian said, using air quotes. “You need to come with us so we can get someone to break it.”

“Fine. But I need to do something before I am coming with you. Plagg, Claws out.”

Bright green light flashed around her and she was now dressed in a black bodysuit with green linings. It was armoured at the chest, knees and elbows. (Add whatever details you want, I can’t do it. Jacket, designs, use your imagination) Her gloves were claws-like, reminding them of Selina and there was a belt carrying some vials, pouches and throwing stars. Her hair was now longer and braided and seemed to move on its own. Cat ears were attached to her head. Her eyes were changed so the sclera were the same shade of blue as her iries and the pupils were slitted like a cat. A black domino mask framed her face. Two ten-inch daggers appeared out of thin air in her hands.

The transformed Lady did the inhuman feat of kicking the door open. The assassins stationed outside were immediately knocked out by Lady.

“Well, are you coming or not?” She called out, before running down the corridor. Jason patted his shocked brother’s shoulder, “You doing okay there, demon spawn?”

“Tch, Let’s go, Todd.” Damian replied, trying to get rid of that funny feeling in his chest.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry XI

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, sad reader, Bucky being Bucky because he don’t quit.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You try to make things better.

Note: Finally it’s the weekend! Got this done catching up on FATWS and just kind went with it. Also if anyone’s interested in making a moodboard/banner for this, I’m not sure if I like the one I have and I might play around with it. I would forever be indebted to you.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

You were frightened by the gentle touch on your elbow. You were so ensnared in your despair, you hadn’t heard the soft footsteps or sensed the figure right beside you. It was only May’s sweet voice which woke you from your drunken malaise.

“Oh dearie, what is the matter?” she rubbed your arm, “I did see how you left but Peter did not say what upset you. It wasn’t him, was it? I swear, I taught that boy better--”

“No, no, it wasn’t him, never, I… No, he has only been kind to me,” you sniffed, “it is only… I have been untrue. I do not deserve his, or your kindness.”

“Dearie, that is ridiculous, you are a good girl, you deserve all good things. Perhaps we only did just meet days ago, but we care for you. We could not be unhappy with you for anything,” she cooed.

“You don’t understand,” you daubed your eyes with your knuckles, “I… I lied to you, to your husband, and your nephew. Everyone here.”

“Is it a lie that would hurt us? Truly?” she asked, “would it lead any true plight for us? Would we lose our livelihoods or our lives?” She tried to look you in the eye, “I do not think so and so I do not worry of it.”

“What do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” she blinked in confusion.

“Yes, everyone wants something of me. If it is to be your friend, I do not know I could be much of one, and if it were to be… something else to your nephew, that surely could never be, and whatever it is, it cannot end well.”

“You speak in riddles, girl, and no doubt foolishly because you are already my friend and I would not rescind that title for anything.”

“And if I have no other title? Hmm? If I am only a servant painted to be a lady?” You looked at the floor and more tears streamed down, “do you still call me friend?��

She was silent. Her hand fell down your arm and she took your hand. You were surprised as she embraced you and pulled your head onto her shoulder. She rocked you as your tears spilled onto her gown.

“Whatever you are, you are good,” she whispered, “I, nor my husband, nor my nephew would take offense at your true bearing. The lie is small, but your character has shown true.”

“I can’t--I couldn’t--”

“What you will do is you will come with me for the night. You will let the wine drain from your veins and your tears subside,” she coaxed, “and whatever it is that truly troubles you will wait until then.”

“But what about--”

“Those men can tend to themselves,” she hooked her arm through yours and carefully drew you from the wall, “now let us go. I am weary myself.”

You let her lead you away even as uneasiness boiled in your stomach. You should go after Lord Barnes, find your way back to his chambers, but you were just as afraid to appease him as to defy him in that moment.

🏰

You slept beside May. Actually slept. You hadn’t done much of that in a long time. She was warm and reminded you of your mother. When you were young and she served the former Lord Barnes and you slept between her and your father on a straw mattress. He always smelled of hay and she smelled of some indiscernible pollen.

May smelled of cinnamon or something like it. You woke with a heavy head and limbs. You sat up in nothing but your shift as the older woman moved around in the dim. She hung a kettle over the small hearth in the tight chambers, nothing so roomy as the duke’s.

She stood and arranged two cups on the table. She wore a plain robe over her shift and rubbed her hands together in the morning chill. She smiled at you as she neared the window, “I didn’t mean to wake you, dearie.”

“No, I should,” you slid out from under the blankets as she pulled back the curtains from the only window, “I should go--”

“You should stay. I’ll brew some berry tea, it’ll do your head well,” she insisted.

“You don’t understand. I shouldn’t have come here last night, I should have--”

“Is this anything to do with Lord Rogers?” she interjected, “you did not say exactly how you knew him.”

“Rogers? No, he is not…” you pulled on your gown but it droop as you could not reach the laces, “please, help me dress. I must be back.”

“Back to what? To who?” she urged.

"Just back," you walked to her and turned your back to face her, "please, you've been so kind but you cannot know what should ensue should I delay."

"Because you won't tell me," she pulled the laces tight and jerked your entire body, "if you did, perhaps I might help."

"You couldn't even if you knew," you murmured as she knotted the ties, "I'm sorry. Thank you for all you've done," you faced her again, "but…"

"It's Lord Barnes." She declared staunchly, "isn't it? I saw him last night with you and Peter. My nephew would not share what was said but he was as out of sorts as you."

"As I said," you took your cap and pulled it over your head, "I am only a maid dressed to be another," you reached around your skirts to wiggle into your slippers, "I was remiss to lie to you, to involve you in my mess. You should stay away from me and I will do the same."

"You don't have to go back to him," she stopped you as you tried to flit past her.

"Where would I go?" You asked, "he will find me. He found me before. He is close with the king and every man of esteem in the kingdom and I haven't a coin to shield me."

"You could go to our stead. We could take you back with us, we are ever in need of another hand--"

"To be what? I would serve well but I expect you mean as more. Your nephew's interest in me is misplaced. I am not of his stature, in title or repute." You brushed past her and grabbed the long door handle, "I am a whore, that cannot be undone."

"Dearie--" you left her and pulled the door to clatter loudly behind you. It was early still but too late to please Barnes. You would face his wrath so it did not again stray to Peter and his kin.

You found Lester outside his door. The horse-faced guard snickered as he let you through and you hid your sneer from him. You knew how he listened through the door and there were times he mocked you when Barnes was not around, mimicking those whines and whimpers drawn from you in your torment. He would have more fodder that day.

The duke was awake. He sat only in his nightshirt before the blazing fire as he stirred it with the iron poker. He grumbled as the latch fell back into place. 

"You're overdue," he stated bluntly, "how is the boy? Hmm, were you so desperate to beg his pardons that you could not be troubled with mine?"

"It was his aunt, she saw me through the night. I was drunk," you neared him cautiously, "I wanted to be back but she kept me. It is no excuse for my… straying." 

You went around him so that you stood between him and the flames. He raised the poker to point it at your throat as he glared up at you. You grabbed it lightly and pushed it aside. He let you and dropped it to the floor with a clunk. He squinted up at you curiously. You bent slowly and gathered your skirts to lift them.

"No--" Bucky began and you put a finger to his lips, a shaky finger, and came closer as you hushed him.

You straddled him as your skirts bunched behind you as you held yourself up with your knees against the bench. You let your hand fall to his shoulder, that one which did not lead to more, and bent to kiss him through the thin linen.

"I came back, my lord," you said, "I wanted to all night but the wine… let me make it right."

He grabbed your chin with his other hand and forced you up. His jaw clenched as he looked you in the eye and held you there. You slid your hand down his chest and stomach and rubbed him through the tails of the shirt. He responded quickly as you felt him growing hard.

"You tell me all the things you want of me but do not allow me to be them," you leaned in so that his lips were close to yours, "so let me."

His blue eyes glimmered and you felt him gasp as you hand slipped under his nightshirt. His hand slipped down to your chest and squeezed as he moaned airily.

"You think I would forgive you?" He asked, his lips grazing yours hotly.

"For what, my lord? You thrust me into another's arms but what more did I do but dance," you struggled to keep your voice from quivering, "you left me there alone but I came back to you…" you stroked him and he gulped, "don't I always come back to you, my lord?"

You kissed him and forced down the revulsion and anxiety of what you were doing. This was the only language he understood. You angled his member and lifted yourself over him. You angled him against your entrance and shuddered as you let him inside. You croaked as you parted from his lips and sheathed him completely,

"I don't want that boy," you whispered as you moved you hips and latched onto his shoulders to keep on him, "only you, my lord, as you want me."

"Sweeting," he murmured, "ohhhh…" 

His hand went to your hip beneath the layers of your gown and shift. He grasped your thigh as you kept your motion steady. You flinched only as his fingers crawled to your vee and he flicked your bud. You moaned without thinking and focused on your hips.

A heat built at his fingertips as he kissed you again, deep and desperate as his hips tilted into you from below. The bench creaked under your weight and the fire flickered against your back. You slung your arms around him and closed your eyes, they stung but you would not cry.

You huffed as the tension coiled inside of you, his fingers working faster and faster, urging you on as his smoky voice filled your lungs. You tore your mouth away from his and hung your head back as your body moved out of instinct. 

You felt the same rise as that day in the carriage when he first touched you. Ripples rolled over you and you exclaimed as they rained over you like hail. Your walls clenched him and the tenderness that lingered dissolved. It had never felt this good, never felt good at all.

He pulled his hand from between your legs and hooked his arm around you. He stood and flipped you swiftly so that your back was across the bench. Your legs dangled down, splayed before him as he took control. He hammered into atop the narrow bench as you head and shoulders hung off the back. 

Your hood fell onto the floor and sweat gathered beneath the silk and linen of your day-old attire. You swooped your arm around Bucky's neck as he pinned you on the thin cushion and the noise of his frantic intrusion filled the room. He smelled of leather and smoke. He felt like fire and ice at once.

He rammed into you as hard as he could and pushed his face into the crook of your neck. His heavy pants warmed your flesh and his bit into your throat as he groaned. His hips spasmed wildly and he came with a final pinch of your tender skin. He stopped at his hilt and rested atop you like a stone.

The blood pounded in your head painfully as you hung over the bench. He pulled you up with him and your vision swam from the disorienting rise as he kept inside of you. He staggered around the seat and carried you to the bed, falling atop you on the cushy feather mattress. 

He pushed himself up on his elbow and gazed down at you. He shoved his cock as deep as he could and watched you squirm. His eyes were alight as he delighted in your helpless whimpers and you grasped the front of his nightshirt.

"You will always come back to me," he rasped and thrust hard, "always."

"Always… my lord," you squeaked as the pain once more filled your core and soul alike.

[samstree]

and the wolf was nowhere to be found (2/3)

Jaskier pays the price of his lies. With blood and tears and a few broken hearts.

(4.3k, lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, blood and injury, miscommunication, mutual pining)

Previous | Read on AO3

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4]. 

Jaskier wakes with a crick in his neck and an aching heart.

He goes through the motion of packing, their morning routine too familiar to distract him from the heavy guilt in his chest. Jaskier wonders if Geralt is actively avoiding him—the way his back is turned at every chance can’t be a coincidence.

The only time he so much as spares a glance is when Jaskier puts the lemon cake in their rations bag, wrapped perfectly and untouched. Geralt stills for a split second, his jaw clenched.

Jaskier wants to brush it off.

Finding an excuse is the first instinct he has, thinking of a lie as to why he didn’t eat something he’s been drooling over for ages, and erase that crestfallen look on Geralt’s face, the one that is breaking his heart.

Because he can’t exactly tell the truth, which is that he’s more likely to be sick if he ate it. Another lie, however, would turn his stomach even more.

Jaskier remains silent.

Even Roach is judging him as they walk out of the stable. Jaskier bears her side eyes and annoyed headbutt without putting up a fight. The mare is too perceptive to miss the tension in the air, and her protectiveness is more than justified. She’s a smart girl. Of course, she knows Jaskier is one making her broody witcher brood even harder.

She tries to bite his doublet again, and it’s Geralt who stops her with a soothing hand down his mane, murmuring confused questions into her ear. Sweet, kind Geralt, who has been rejected by Jaskier so many times for no reason in the past few days, is still trying to defend him.

Jaskier needs to make it right.

“Geralt, look—”

“Master Jaskier!”

Someone in the distance rudely interrupts Jaskier’s nervous attempt. He turns by instinct and watches a boy in lilac doublet jog up to them. He’s so young, no older than twenty, still with that joviality and naïvety in his features. The way his matching doublet and trousers could catch the eyes of any crowd reminds Jaskier of himself in his early years.

“Sweet Melitele, I’m your biggest fan! Oh my…” the boy proclaims, awestruck. “I’ve been following your ballads for years, and now I get to meet you in person!”

Jaskier looks to Geralt and then back at the man.

“Ah, I’m flattered. It’s always nice to meet a fan, but you see—” Jaskier gestures to the horse and the man behind him. “—I’m in a hurry to leave town.”

Besides, he’s in no mood to converse right now. The quicker he can get Geralt alone, the better. With this weight on his chest, Jaskier feels so drained just talking to anyone but his witcher, let alone dealing with an enthusiastic fan.

“Oh but you must listen to my set first!” The boy looks at him expectantly. “I dream of writing a hit song just like Toss a Coin. I could be just as big—”

“I’d love to, but the circumstances won’t allow it.” With the biggest smile plastered on his face, Jaskier dismisses the guy. “I’m sure there’s promise in you, especially now you’ve chosen the correct role model—”

“You can go, Jaskier.”

Jaskier snaps his head to Geralt, confused as to what he just heard.

“We need to leave this morning, my dear. That’s the plan.” Jaskier frowns. “Remember?”

He excuses himself to the young man and drags Geralt away too quickly, too rudely—on another day he’d feel contrite ignoring a fan like this, but today he’s mind is occupied by something much more important.

Once out on the street and alone, Geralt’s befuddled frown deepens. “Why did you—”

“I need to tell you something,” Jaskier interrupts. “Before I say it, I know you will get mad at me, but you have to understand that the past year has been hard on me, Geralt. When you showed up in Oxenfurt out of the blue, I didn’t have enough time to process everything or what it would mean for us to travel together again. That’s why everything is so wrong now and I need to make it right.”

“I know what you want to say.”

The world stops.

All he can see is that pained look on Geralt’s face, the one that’s breaking his heart and making his blood run cold. Of course, he knows, witcher senses and all. As if Jaskier has ever gotten away with lying to Geralt’s face in the past.

“You do?” he breathes, the crack in his voice unmistakable.

Geralt lets out a sigh. He’s not mad. At least, he doesn’t look like he’s angry with Jaskier. “It’s been obvious in the past few days, and I… I do understand.”

“Oh.”

There’s still hope then. Jaskier just needs to come clean and apologize, and, definitely, throw whatever game he’s been playing out the window. They will be fine. The two of them, the bard and the witcher on the path, just like the old days—

“I can leave now,” Geralt starts. “With me gone, you’d be free to stay here for longer. You have so many things to see and so many people to meet. You can go back and talk to the boy. Finally, there’s someone who can wax lyrical with you. It’ll be for the best.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to say it, Jaskier. I can see now that it’s better if we part ways. Let’s not make things more difficult.”

Jaskier stares, gaping like a fish out of water. He can’t believe what he’s hearing, after all this time, after the mountain. Geralt wouldn’t do it.

He wouldn’t.

“You are leaving me here?”

Geralt looks as if he’s stricken. His shoulders tense like every time he wants to appear smaller.

“It’s for the best,” he repeats.

Jaskier shakes his head. “Wait, I thought you understood. I’m sorry, Geralt, for the past few days. I didn’t mean to… I wanted to apologize, so you know I didn’t mean it.”

The smile at the corners of Geralt’s lips is too sad.

“You don’t need to apologize. It wasn’t fair of me to ask it of you to begin with—”

“Ask me what?”

“—Us traveling together again… It was only wishful thinking. There was never a second chance and I never should have gone to find you.”

Jaskier takes a step back, swallowing the lump in his throat. Suddenly the collar of his doublet is too tight and the lute on his back is too heavy. He has to look away from Geralt’s resolute face just to stop the stinging in his eyes.

“You promised…” he mumbles. “You promised not to leave again.”

Geralt falters for a second, his hand resting on Roach’s saddle as if to steady himself. When he answers, his tone is cold, colder than Jaskier can take.

“How can I keep you when everything catches your eye, Jask? You are not made to stay... Not with me. Not after everything that happened.”

Disbelievingly, Jaskier retreats. His hand fists around the strap of his lute case, digging into his palm. “Not made to stay? Seriously?”

“It’s for the—”

“If you tell me it’s for the best one more time, I swear, Geralt…”

“Jaskier.”

Geralt calls out his name without heat like he’s placating an unreasonable child. Jaskier exhales in exasperation.

“Maybe you are right that it was only wishful thinking.” he forces the words out, his heart sinking. “For once it was actually my fault, and you can’t wait to ask for life’s one blessing again.”

“I—”

“Fine. Have at it,” Jaskier hisses. “I don’t care.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Jaskier lands the biggest lie he’s ever told in this mess. He drags his feet to cooperate, to take him away and put some distance between him and the worst disaster that’s ever descended upon his life.

Roach neighs, but the sound is far-away. Jaskier grabs at the doublet at his chest and wonders if the witcher-shaped hole within can ever be filled.

 ~~

Jaskier doesn’t stop.

He walks into the bustling crowd of the market, heedless of cheery townspeople going about their day, and he keeps walking until the noise dies down.

Jaskier stops at the riverbank with nowhere to go, so he sits down on the ground and finally lets the dam break.

Crying does very little to ease the ache, and yet when the tears bring a release for the pent-up pressure in his chest. It’s hard to feel justified in letting the pain be cried away when he’s so aware of his own faults in the once-again ending of their companionship.

After all, Geralt couldn’t wait to throw him aside on top of that mountain when he’d done nothing wrong. What makes him think Geralt will tolerate him when he intentionally fucks things up.

Jaskier gasps for air, but only a whimper chokes out. How pathetic, to regret the most precious second chance destiny has ever granted him.

Now he knows for sure that he doesn’t deserve to cry, to let himself feel even just slightly better in the wake of his destruction.

Jaskier tries to stifle the tears with a hand at his mouth, and breathes. In and out, one breath after another. It’s like trying to contain a storm threatening to wreck through his entire being.

But he manages, after an eternity.

Jaskier sniffles one last time and wipes away the tear tracks. There’s a tremor in his hands but he pays no mind. The lute case is laying carelessly in the grass where he dropped it. He slings it onto his back and realizes that in a frenzy, he’s left everything else he owns in Roach’s saddlebags.

He could laugh at the idea of going back there, tail between his legs, as if being kicked out of Geralt’s life—for good this time—isn’t humiliating enough. His only hope hangs on the possibility that Geralt may have left his packs at the inn so they don’t have to face each other. Why would Geralt want to see him anyway? The witcher should be long gone.

Jaskier doesn’t make it too far when a streak of lilac pops out of nowhere.

“Oh! Here you are, Master Jaskier. You are a hard man to track down.”

The boy still looks too chirpy for Jaskier’s liking, too bright and too carefree. His mood is soured even further.

“Look, I’m not fit for company today.” Jaskier walks right past the young man, heedless of his insistence. “Mister—what is your name? Maybe you’ll catch me at the next festival if fate allows.”

The boy ignores his deflection and stops right in front of Jaskier’s face, which successfully draws his full attention and pisses him off completely. “I said—”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” The kid doesn’t relent. “I thought the witcher is determined to abandon you for the second time. Don’t you think he’ll stick to it this time?”

Strangely, the other man doesn’t look nearly as young up close. His face is youthful for sure, smooth and unblemished, and yet there’s an inexplicable weariness in his blue eyes. Now that Jaskier notices, these blue eyes look eerily similar to his own. With just the eyes, he could be looking into a mirror.

Jaskier wants to squirm.

“Did no one teach you that eavesdropping is rude?” He pauses, startled. “Wait, a second time… You knew—”

“Oh.” The man looks sheepish. “Can’t blame a fan for keeping tabs on you, can we?”

An overly zealous fan is nothing new, but somehow, this one sends a shiver down Jaskier’s spine.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Jaskier says, trying to back away. “I need to get back to town. You know, where the inspirations are, so I’ll find it in me to… um, compose more of those pieces you love so much.”

“Oh, don’t kid yourself! You are not going back to him, are you? Twenty years! All the sweat and blood and singing his praises and this is what you get after all this time!”

The guy grabs at Jaskier’s arm, which he shakes off in horror.

“You know nothing about me. Or Geralt.”

“That witcher will never see you!” he exclaims. “I was there when your first ballad swept the continent off its feet, Jaskier. From that moment on, I knew you were special. What appreciation has that mutant shown you? Only insults and scorn.”

“Geralt is not like that, he—”

Jaskier freezes to the spot.

He forces his attention back to the boy’s face. His eyes are still startlingly blue, even more so in anger. There’s not a single trace of age at his temples, and yet…

“My first song was twenty-two years ago,” Jaskier states, something akin to fear creeping into his voice. “What did you say your name was again?”

At those words, the man’s face shifts. It’s like watching someone shed a layer of skin, a façade, and another being emerges. A much more powerful one.

“Does it matter?” When he answers, there's magic in the air, sizzling with power. The blue of his eyes shimmers under the surface, ever so slightly. Jaskier’s heart clenches.

Not human.

Definitely not human.

“We never got to know each other, well,” Jaskier stalls. “I think now it’s not too late.”

He has an inkling that getting away will not be an easy feat. He can hope to distract this… this creature long enough for a chance to run. His hand tightens around the strap nervously, and the man’s eyes follow the movement without a beat.

Shit.

Jaskier turns to run, to take the lute case in his hands as a weapon, but it’s too late. The next thing he knows, the case is thrown against the ground and he’s backed against a tree. The other man’s grip around Jaskier’s wrists is like a vice, securing his hands right above him.

Jaskier wants to scream, but no sound escapes his throat. His body shakes all over, out of control.

“The fae never reveal our name easily,” the creature hisses.

Those blue eyes are too sharp and there’s a scent growing overwhelmingly strong. Fae, as it turns out, smell like newly cut grass and wildflowers, like the forest.

If only Jaskier can live long enough to share the trivia.

And then, with both their hands occupied, the fae presses his forehead to Jaskier. He struggles but to no avail.

The touch is cold and something is slipping into Jaskier’s mind like an icy stream in the spring. It trickles probs at every corner of his memories.

“Oh, even now you are loyal to the witcher. You still believe he’ll save you, little songbird.”

Jaskier’s vision turns fuzzy. His soundless whimpering breaks into breathless gasps, like a wounded animal waiting for a mercy kill. At the back of his mind, he’s achingly aware of Geralt’s absence. His witcher in shining armor won’t come this time, not after all the—

“All the pretty little lies. Every single one of them, born out of love, misguided.”

However true that statement is, Jaskier doesn’t want to hear it. His love for Geralt shouldn’t be spoken with malice. He fights against the fae’s iron hold with everything he can muster.

There’s a crack of bones before the pain hits him, exploding from his wrists all the way down his arms. Jaskier sobs, the edges of his vision darkening, the shock threatening to pull him under. He still can’t make a sound.

“What can we do?” The fae’s voice comes from a distant realm. “How can we have your loyalty as the witcher does? Oh, how fierce you are, songbird. To have your voice at our court… Perhaps, more lies will do. Yes, it was your choice, what your heart desired. A gift from us.”

Jaskier can’t process anything he’s hearing. He’s too tired from the searing pain in his wrists.

“Just a few lies. They’ll be easy to roll off the tongue, and yet, such powerful weapons.” The fae retreats. “A gift of lies. Thank you for the inspiration, Jaskier the bard. We hope you enjoy it as much as we will.”

Without the brute force holding up his body, Jaskier sagas against the tree, his legs unable to support his weight. His lungs burn and his mind turns fuzzy, bereft of the fae’s presence.

Jaskier needs to move, needs to scramble away from this place. But before the sweet relief of freedom even hits him, magic seizes him again and, finally, finally, a world-ending scream explodes from his lungs.

The world goes to black soon after.

 ~~

Jaskier wakes to someone shaking his shoulder, someone gentle.

His body pulses like a bruised nerve. The back of his head feels like it’s been trampled by a whole army and his neck creaks at the barest move. Jaskier’s nose is buried in damp grass and he chokes, which jostles his neck even more.

He groans miserably and tries to touch, only to be stopped by the burning in his wrists. He lets out a hiss.

Right, broken bones. Blue eyes that look the same as his. Fae.

“Careful… Fuck, Jaskier, what happened?”

A gravelly voice comes through the fog.

Geralt.

Oh, Jaskier can sob with relief. He arches his back, slowly propping himself up on his elbows. His eyes are so sore from lying on the ground face down, but the sight of his witcher is unmistakable.

Jaskier wants to call out for his witcher, but a sob is the only thing that gets out. He cradles his hands and finds his right wrist is swollen red and sensitive to the touch, but the left looks more or less the same. Only a throbbing pain tugging at his fingertips.

He reaches to the back of his head with his left hand, where the crick is prickling at his nerves, only to find a gash at his nape and hair caked with blood. He doesn’t remember hitting his head while falling. He doesn’t remember falling at all.

So, one wrist sprained, the other broken, plus a gaping hole in his head. Jaskier can cope.

If he doesn’t die from the embarrassment, that is. He whines pathetically, already exhausted.

“I told you not to move.” Geralt catches Jaskier’s tilting body. Amber gold flows with concern. “What happened to you, Jask?”

The question comes out soft, more of a whisper to the witcher himself than demanding answers. Jaskier’s lips wobble at the endearment. He needs to tell Geralt everything. Fuck his injured pride. Geralt came for him. This wonderful, beautiful, sweet man came to him after the disaster that is this morning and he’s still trying to help Jaskier.

All because Geralt is safety. He’s safety and home, and Jaskier needs to tell him—

“None of your business, witcher.”

It takes a moment for Jaskier to register what left his lips, the venom that drips from these words so foreign. He’s never aimed at Geralt before. From the looks of it, Geralt is equally startled if the tiny crease by his lips is any indication.

“You hit your head,” Geralt says patiently, hovering close to Jaskier’s face in an attempt to check the wound on his neck. “It’s bad. Here, let me see—”

“Get your filthy hands away from me!”

The words fly out on their own volition. Jaskier flinches, the same time as Geralt takes back his hand as if burned. He closes his mouth with a pop and the feeling of something severely wrong weighs down on his stomach. That’s not what he meant, not at all. The only thing he wants to do is lean into Geralt’s touch and melt into a puddle. Whyever did his mouth betray his heart? Why did he…

Why did he…

…Lie?

His mind focuses on a sing-songy voice.

A gift from us.

A gift of lies.

It’s like a bucket of ice water thrown over Jaskier’s head. He sobers up immediately. The inspiration they took from him. The fae’s gift.

The fae’s curse.

Geralt’s brows are knitted together, amber eyes imbued with hurt. He is still crouched in front of Jaskier, hands fisted at his side and shoulders taut. He’s got the look now, that lost look that only appears when a mob drives him out of town with pitchforks and stones. Jaskier has seen that look one too many times.

And now he's the one causing it.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks, shocked, unsure.

Jaskier breathes hard and tastes the bile rising in his throat. Geralt doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to have that hopeless look on his face or to be shunned by the world, by anyone, and least of all, by someone he’s let stay beside him for so many years. By the Gods, Jaskier needs to let Geralt know he’s the kindest person on earth and more human than any human. He’s Jaskier’s friend and protector, his dream, his heart—

“You are a mutant, a freak,” Jaskier feels the words slip out, too late to realize the mistake of opening his mouth. “No better than the monsters you slay.” The magic compels his tongue. He bites down on it but it’s only futile. “You feel nothing and give nothing but death to those around you.”

Jaskier recoils, tasting blood. In front of him, Geralt mirrors his movement. The entire time, the wolf medallion rests against his chest plate, Jaskier’s last hope, sitting still and unresponsive.

And Geralt…

He doesn’t defend himself.

Of course not. Geralt never defends himself against the stoning even when he can easily defeat most humans with his bare hands. There’s a faded scar near his hairline, a solid proof of men’s capacity for prejudice and violence.

Now Jaskier has joined their ranks.

Geralt looks like he’s been suck-punched in the gut, his eyes wide and crestfallen. And yet, wide amber eyes gaze upon Jaskier without accusation, only quiet acceptance. Jaskier shudders with disgust and fear, which must be the reason Geralt is backing away further.

“I’ll leave… If you—” he pauses, before standing up. “I see. This is goodbye, Jaskier.”

Don’t go!

“Get away then!”

Jaskier shakes his head, putting all the force he can muster into biting into his lips, scared of what may come out. His wrists burn but he has to force his mouth shut by pressing his palms over it.

Why can’t Geralt see that something’s wrong? Why can’t he see Jaskier?

See me! Jaskier pleads silently through the tears.

Geralt’s face falters as he spares one last glance at Jaskier.

Look what you’ve done to him, the sing-songy voice returns. This is your choice. You chose to lie, little poet. Be careful what you wish for.

Jaskier crumbles like a puppet with his strings cut. He barely contains the choked-out whimpers. The burning in his lungs is nothing compared to the anguish. He could die at this moment and it would be a sweet release. Hurting Geralt like this, it’s worse than a thousand broken bones and a million cuts on his skin. In the darkest corners of his mind, he wants Geralt to walk away from him. If Jaskier has to spew any more venom towards the man he’s loved for more than half of his life, he’d surely want to walk into the ocean and never come out.

He presses his ears to the grass and remembers the cold wind on the mountain. He was a fool to hope Geralt could come to him then. He is a fool now.

The witcher drags his feet away, one step after another, trampling the soft flora under him, and then—

And then, by some miracle, he stops.

Jaskier watches as his witcher turns around and rushes back to his side, his jaw clenched and eyes determined. His heart bursts with hope, but his fists press against his mouth harder. There’s more blood coating his tongue.

“I can’t,” Geralt states as he kneels next to Jaskier’s curled body. The betrayal in his eyes ebbs away and in its place is something…tortured.

Jaskier shakes his head, or is he trembling again? His vision swims with blood loss. He won’t be able to stay awake for long.

“I can’t leave you here, Jaskier,” he muses to himself, frowning deep. “Shit. You are bleeding again.”

Jaskier scoffs into his fist, almost hysterical.

“You are in shock, and you are about to pass out. I don’t know what happened, but your wrists are a mess. Jaskier…” The name comes out like a prayer. “I heard your wishes. Loud and clear, this time. I know you loathe my presence in your life, but… I have to make sure you’ll get better. Please, forgive me.”

Geralt tries to gently pry Jaskeir’s hands away, but he struggles blindly. Through the haze of his mind, Jaskier’s last thought reminds him to keep his mouth closed.

“Forgive me,” Geralt mutters in anguish, “I can’t let you hurt yourself because of me. Forgive me, just one more time.”

His hand makes the familiar sign of Axii, and everything turns…soft.

The pain is gone, the magical hold on his tongue too. Jaskier loses himself in the mellow sensation of giving up control. The ground disappears under his body and his head lolls against Geralt’s chest.

“I was wrong.” Regret rumbles deep in Geralt’s chest. “I was the curse that befell you. After all the hurt you’ve received by my side, Gods, and I still can’t keep myself away from you. I will not make the mistake of forcing myself into your life again, Jask. Allow me a few days to see you safe, and then... Never again.”

The vow is so wrong, but Jaskeir is powerless to protest. He catches a broken whisper before darkness claims him for the second time on the same day.

“I’m sorry, Jaskier. For my heart.”

Jaskier welcomes the oblivion that drags him under, as well as the nightmares that follow.

~~

I'm...sorry. 

One more chapter to go. Hopefully this time I won't have to up the chapter count. Some real communication and comfort are on the way! <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @a-kind-of-merry-war @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[luv-eddiediaz]

Hi. Me again, with my obsession of cowboy Eddie and city Buck. 

I was driving around the country last night looking for some cool rocks to put in my yard (I live in town, but like 20 minutes from all the ranches and wide open spaces), and I had like a Buddie version of a Hallmark movie playing in my head the whole time. 

Imagine with me:

Buck has been living in NYC. He’s been working at some art gallery and dating Abby and living with her in her fancy loft while she sculpts, but something happens and she still needs to go find herself, so off she goes to abandon our boy, who, after a couple of months, and some conversations with his friends, realizes she isn’t going to come back, and he sets off to start over. 

He basically throws a dart at a map, and it lands on El Paso, and so that’s where he packs his bags to go. He gets a job at a local bar, and rents a room in the back. He doesn’t think El Paso is going to be for him, so he’s just going to work a few weeks until he can figure out where he wants to go and has some more money saved up to get there.

He notices that every other night, a dark haired man comes in and orders a whiskey, neat and two beers. He sits alone and doesn’t talk to anyone except the girl who works at the bar with Buck at night (I’ve named her Desiree). To Buck, he seems kind of sad. 

One night, Desiree is off, and it’s Just Buck. The guy comes in and Buck brings him his whiskey without him having to order. The man tips his hat, and Buck smiles, but they don’t say anything. When he’s finished his whiskey, Buck goes back to him with his draft of Budweiser, and again he tips his hat, and Buck smiles. They don’t talk until Buck brings him last beer. 

“It’s Buck, right?”

“Uh, yea, how did you know?”

“Desiree is my cousin. She’s mentioned you a few times. Doesn’t like you very much.”

Buck laughs, “I didn’t think she did.”

“It’s your shoes. They’re too shiny, and she says you smell too nice.”

“How does someone smell too nice?”

“Girls here are just different than where you come from.”

“Everyone here is different than where I come from.”

And the man laughs so quiet Buck isn’t even sure he’s laughing, and then he holds out his hand, “I’m Eddie.”

“Nice to meet you.” Buck meets his hand, and it’s softer than Buck would have thought given his dirt stained jeans, and his small drawl, and the cowboy hat he never seems to take off his head. 

So, now whenever Eddie comes in, Buck waits on him, and as the customers dwindle down, Buck ends up sitting in the corner booth with him, and they talk. About New York mostly, about Abby and art, Eddie’s son, and how Buck thinks he might do better in Austin if he was going to stay in Texas. 

“If you change your mind, and want to stay,” Eddie says one night, “I have a shed I converted to a guest house. I’d be more than happy to rent it out to you.”

Buck isn’t sure why, but the thought of Eddie wanting him to stay makes him feel good, and so he decides to take him up on the offer. He meets Eddie at his place one Sunday afternoon, which is this sprawling ranch, and a large, gray stucco house. Eddie shows him around the grounds.

“So, these are Greg and Elizabeth,” he says of two goats nosing at Buck’s shoes, “those are the three Rosies,” he points to three brown cows, “the chicken coop is in the back, but you’ll have to ask Christopher their names, because honestly, I don’t know. I think he keeps changing them.”

“All these animals are yours?”

“Uh, the goats and chickens, yes. One Rosie is a boarder, and the other two are ours until I find them somewhere else to go.” 

“Do you like rescue animals?”

“Sort of. I’m a large animal vet.”

“How did you not tell me this?”

Eddie shrugs and smiles this little half smile Buck has come to adore, “I don’t like talking about myself. And you love talking about yourself.”

“Do not.”

“You really do.”

Then Eddie shows him the shed/house, and Buck decides he’s going to stay there. Eddie also asks if during the day Buck wants to help out answering phones and stuff in the clinic.

Hilarity would ensue with Buck in his fancy sweaters and nice shoes trying to help wrangle the goats and the cows. Sweetness comes when he’s out feeding the chickens with Christopher, and eating sandwiches with him at the reception desk of the vet clinic. 

At some point, he starts wearing flannel shirts, and faded denim. Eddie even buys him his own cowboy hat the day he takes him out horseback riding. 

That same day, they sit by a creek, underneath a tree while their horses graze, and have a more serious conversation. Eddie opens up about his wife’s recent death, but how they had been on the rocks for a while, and Eddie thought maybe they were going to work things out, but she said she didn’t want to and then she had an accident in town. 

Buck doesn’t think he’s crazy when Eddie puts Buck’s hat back on his head and he feels this electricity as they stare at each other, close enough to smell what the other had for breakfast on their breath. He thinks maybe Eddie is going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. And it leaves him disappointed. 

So, of course. with the two of them on this precipice of something, Abby comes back! 

She finds out where Buck is, and goes down to Texas. It’s a Saturday night, and Buck is working at the bar, and it’s a little bit busy, but Christopher is staying the weekend with his aunt and cousins, and Eddie is down there, and between serving Buck lets Eddie try and teach him to line dance, and they shoot a round of pool that lasts forever because Buck keeps having to go work, but it doesn’t matter, because he is having the best time, and he’s seeing Eddie laugh with his whole face, and he knows, he just knows he is falling in love with this man, and only hopes he’s falling in love back. 

They are literally just about to kiss in a dark corner when Buck sees Abby in the middle of the bar, and says her name. He doesn’t forget Eddie is there, but he kinds forgets Eddie is there and walks over to her, gives her a hug.

“What are you doing here?”

“I missed you too.”

“Can we talk?” she asks, “are you busy?”

“I’m working, but I can take a minute; here.” He leads her to a small booth and slides in across from her.

“Look,” she starts, “I’m not sorry I left, because I had to. I was feeling suffocated.”

“By me?”

“No, well, yes, but not you. Just my life, and you happened to be a part of that. I needed to get lost to find myself again.”

“And did you?”

“Yes.”

“It’s been five months, Abby. I left us. I left New York; I started over.”

“I see that. Kind of a weird choice.”

“I like it.”

Because he likes Eddie. 

Shit. Eddie. Buck looks around the bar and sees that he’s gone, and he doesn’t blame him for bailing. He looks back at Abby; at the beautiful curve of her face, her bright green eyes that still pop through the lenses of her glasses. He remembers what it felt like to kiss her lips, and feel her hands through his hair. He never loved anyone the way he loved Abby - she was the first real thing in his life, but he knows now, that Abby never loved him the way he deserved.

“Buck?”

“Thank you for coming here to explain yourself.”

“I was kind of hoping I could talk you into coming to New York with me.”

“Nah, I’m good here. I’ve got all these flannel shirts now, and the concrete would just kill these boots.”

Abby laughs, “not to mention the cowboy.”

“What cowboy?”

“The one that’s been staring at us like he’s ready to pull my hair.”

Buck looks to where Abby is nodding and he wonders how the hell he missed Eddie sitting there.

“Yea, and the cowboy.”

She smiles and kisses Buck on the cheek as she gets up to leave. Buck waits a few seconds until she’s walked out the door and saunters over to Eddie with a woeful look on his face. He sits on the barstool next to him 

“I��m sorry about that,” he says.

“Oh, you’re sorry for dropping me like a dirty rag as soon as you saw your ex-girlfriend? Or is she still your girlfriend?”

“No. She’s my ex. There’s uh, there’s someone else I’m kind of interested in.”

“Anyone I know? It’s a small town after all.”

“I think you may be familiar with him.”

“Him? That could be a dangerous thing here.”

“I like a little bit of danger.”

Eddie smiles, “what time do you get off?”

“About another hour.”

“Hmmm, I’ll come back and pick you up.”

Eddie tips his hat and leaves the bar, and Buck thinks the last hour of his shift drags on forever, but finally he’s cashed out and collected his tips and he goes outside to find Eddie sitting in his truck. Buck gets in, and they drive out past the town lights, past his ranch, almost right up to the border to Mexico, and park. 

Buck feels like he’s in a country song as the radio hums in the background and Eddie leans over the console to touch his fingertips to Buck’s chin and pull him towards himself to give him a soft, slow kiss. 

It’s the best kiss Buck has ever had, and he can’t help but smile the entire time. It’s the beginning of what Buck knows is going to be the rest of his life. 

[sour-n-salty-citrus]

Rick and Morty for the Blorbo ask game!

(Fucked up my answer to yours at first sorry!)

(Haha dw about it!)

Blorbo (fave)- ohh definitely Morty bsjshsjsjs. I just. I love him- he is my baby, my boywife, my beloved. I also project onto him LMAO so there's that- (fr tho khkahdkbdjssj my rnm art is 90% morty and like- 10% rick, im sorry rick dbdbdb-)

Scrunkly (baby)- morty again toxic Morty. (Ok most of these are going to be morty- but come on! Rick and Morty and their alternate selves make up like 90% of the existing cast leave me alone ;-;) toxic morty is just a sad little babey but he's so cute and I just wanna hug him hnhngngng.

Scrimblo bimblo (underappreciated fave): Evil Rick! He gets totally overshadowed by evil morty and it's a shame because he's so attractive interesting!

Glip Shitto (obscure fave): Girl Morty! Not Morticia, but the pocket mortys Girl Morty! I like her a lot :D

(Oh! Also- idk how obscure this is but Squanchy! I fuckin love squanchy, he's the best, people don't talk about him enough).

Poor Little Meow Meow: Jerry akdhskhkdhsjdh. Listen, is he a pathetic manchild? Yes. He's also a poor little meow meow and I think he gets a lot of undeserved hate. The rest of the Smith family aren't exactly better sjdbsjdhjsm. And he can be sweet and endearing at times! ... sometimes-

Horse Plinko (torment time): c-137 Rick. LOOK i love him and all, but it's so fun and satisfying seeing him get his ass handed to him. Especially this latest season, I was like YES! BRING ON THE BEATINGS! HUMBLE HIS ASS! I just love watching this mean old man get his ass handed to him, it's great. (Again- i do love him, but also he deserves it sometimes so hsbdjdhsjsh).

Eeby deeby (you're getting sent to superhell): Mr Jellybean.

Cause seriously. Fuck that guy.

[sohin-ace]

Doppio - Frog Princess

Fairy tale AU and lots of love for my small man.

Doppio dragged his feet across the garden, restless and desperate. He sighed and whined to himself, taking the opportunity of being all alone to voice his pain and concerns, something he was never allowed to do.

"Aww jeez... This prince life isn't made for me..."

He huffed again and tugged at his very uncomfortable, gold adorned collar that was almost suffocating him.

Doppio looked around him, sure enough, the tall trees surrounding him did a great job at hiding him from the potential workers on the castle grounds that could possibly be looking for him.

He could finally have a little moment for himself and sneak out, maybe to cry to himself a little bit.

"O-ow... That still hurts..." The boy whined and rubbed on his bruised fingers, the results of angry professors punishing him for each mistakes he made. "I'm no good, I can't do anything right..."

That's right. Prince Doppio was a clumsy and anxious boy who lacked capacity in every domain. He always tried his best and obeyed every and each order, he wasn't undisciplined, oh no, young Doppio was a good boy.

He was just bad. He hardly managed to keep the required straight stance for more than ten seconds, was better at petting the horses than at riding them, couldn't follow etiquette at all, or protocol, was extremely forgetful and sadly, mother nature did not grace him with the strongest physical traits a young man his age was expected to have.

"Tch... Trish was so popular everyone courted her and she was so easy to marry, but me... No one would want to marry a good-for-nothing like me..."

He angrily kicked some rock and held his back that cracked at the movement, in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and sobbing at the sore feeling. That last lesson of fencing went so terribly wrong, how did the others do it?

"I'm so tired... Why meee...?"

"Ribbit!"

"Huh?" Doppio was startled at the very sudden but intriguing croaky sound and approached its direction near the pond.

He couldn't see anything at first, but then a tiny little creature jumped out of its hiding place. Doppio's honey eyes widened and he quickly wiped his warm tears, crouching down towards the animal.

"A frog!" He exclaimed happily, almost like a small child, new to the world. "Hi! You're so tiny, what's your name?"

"Ribbit!"

He knew very well the animal couldn't respond to him with actual words, but just the feeling of having even a one-sided conversation soothed a bit of his loneliness down. He cupped his hands together to invite the frog in, and the animal obliged by jumping on them.

He looked down and observed the chubby little creature. It had the cutest, roundest eyes, almost sparkly in the dim forest light, its green color was so bright and homogenous, there weren't any marks or patterns that frogs usually had on their skin. Even its limbs were tiny and soft, Doppio couldn't help but pet it with one careful and shaky finger.

"O-ooh! Oh my god!" He squealed uncontrollably. "You're so squishy!"

"Ribbit ribbit!"

The quiet and high-pitched croak felt so pleasant to his ears, it meddled with the sound of the water next to him and made him feel so much at peace. He loved to hear that cute sound and how the frog's belly puffed up like a balloon with each croak.

"What are you? A boy or a girl? I'd say you're a girl because you're super pretty and have a tiny voice."

"Ribbit Ribbit! Ribbit Ribbit!"

Doppio gasped loudly. "D-did I get it right?! Oohh yes!! That's so cool! Well... Not like I would have minded if you were a boy... Or both... Wait, do frogs have genders? Oh it doesn't matter."

The young prince felt like this frog was currently the only thing keeping him sane. He had no one else to talk to, there was no one who actually cared for his own well-being and he had no friends.

The only real person to actually show him some kind of recognition and love was none other than the King Diavolo himself. But even his sweet words and affection seemed somewhat back-handed and laced with pressure and severity.

"You know, you're lucky, little thing..." Doppio started with melancholy. "You don't have to worry so much about your life... I'm bad at everything and I'm all alone... I don't know what to do..."

"Ri-rib, ribbit!"

"Even if a nice princess wanted to marry me, I would turn her down because she would deserve better... Sometimes I wish I could disappear..."

"Ribb-ribbit!"

Doppio's eyes softened on the small frog. That's how sad and pathetic he was. Talking his problems out with a frog.

"Why do I feel like you actually understand me...? Thank you for listening to me and being my only friend."

Without even thinking, he lifted the small frog and brought it towards his face, giving it the tiniest of pecks. He smiled at how weird the feeling was, the animal was cold and slightly humid, a bit sticky too which he did not mind surprisingly.

He sighed and looked up mindlessly before his eyes were suddenly striked by a blinding flash of light.

"Wh-what the hell?!"

The light flashed brighter and brighter, coming from the frog in his hands. What was going on?

Doppio could only drop the creature and shield his eyes with his arms desperately as the frog sparkled like a thousand fireflies and grew in size.

The boy squinted his eyes shut and fell back right onto his butt before he felt a strong weight pressing on him, the mass eventually pinning him down onto the ground.

"U-uughh..." He groaned and rubbed his head, a sharp headache from the harsh light hitting his sensitive eyes still slowly fading.

He looked down only for his eyes to widen like saucers. He couldn't believe what he was currently witnessing and thought that maybe he went blind from the flash and was hallucinating right now.

The weight on top of him revealed to be the figure of a girl laying unconscious. He couldn't see her face buried in his chest, but he could make out her beautiful hair, smooth skin tone and the very frilly green dress she was wearing.

And that wasn't just any dress either, the golden ornaments, the tulle, the silk, the lace, the satin... That was an expensive dress, was she...could she be... A nobleswoman? A baroness? A...

...A princess?

"A-aah..." The girl moaned quietly before pushing herself up, not without struggle and Doppio gasped.

"A-are you okay signori-..." The boy could barely finish his sentence and only mumbled open-mouthed nonsense.

He was beyond mesmerized at the beauty who had just ever-so-slowly lifted her face up to look at him. Her shining wide eyes, her innocent glossy lips, her rose dusted cheeks and her hair framing her perfect face made him believe he just stumbled into some sort of forest Goddess.

"Ah-I... U-uuhm.. Y-you...uh.. W-ah-...eh... I-I'm..." He stammered awkwardly, his brain melting like ice in summer as his face and ears burned a crimson red, his breath catching in his now dry throat.

"Ah! My stars!" The girl gasped as she hovered over the immensely flustered prince. "I am so sorry! I must be crushing you!"

The young girl fretted anxiously before trying to scramble over on her knees and straighten herself up to give the poor man some much needed space, but as soon as she did, she was hit with a wave of dizziness and lost balance again. Doppio was quick to sit up and catch her against his chest, wrapping careful arms around her.

"A-are you okay, miss? What happened to you? What's going on?" The boy asked worriedly, regaining his composure slowly.

"Ah y-yes... It's just... It's been so long since I've been glamoured..."

"You've been... Glamoured?" Doppio couldn't be more confused than this, but the girl explained further as she leaned back slightly.

Her name was Y/N L/N, daughter of the King L/N. Many years ago, she had been the victim of a curse cast by the one and only sorcerer Dio, who was overcome by fury and rage against anyone affiliated with the Joestar Empire, or those who refused to become one of his pets, casting spells after spells, and curses after curses.

"He turned me into a frog and swore to me that nobody would ever come to save me from my demise... But you..." Y/N looked up at Doppio's honey eyes and couldn't help the tears pooling at her eyes.

She was free, at last.

"I was all alone... And you came here... My savior..."

Her soft voice cracked with thick emotions and she stared into Doppio's golden eyes with soft ones, her vision blurred by warm tears. Doppio gasped lightly, moved by her story and she shyly wiped her tears.

"A-ah, forgive me! How shameful of me, to weep in front of a prince like this... I'm just.. So..."

"No, princess, don't apologize." He gently held her wrists to pull them away from her timid face. "You have the right to be overwhelmed... Nobody's here, besides... I cried too, earlier, in front of you. Nothing wrong with showing your emotions."

She sighed dreamily at his gentle words and soft touches, the now more confident boy stirring her heart. "What is your name, my prince?"

"Doppio." He gulped, stiff as a rock at her saccharine gaze and tone. "Doppio Vinegar."

"You're a good person, Doppio..." She breathed out, her words dripping with warm sincerity. Doppio's heart could only skip beats at each and every one of her actions.

The boy may be clumsy and bashful, he surely wasn't dense. He well knew he was deeply falling in love with this frog princess, but something in him told him she may not be completely disinterested in him either, despite his overall appearance and personality.

But maybe, just maybe, it was because she didn't know him enough. She didn't know this extent of his foolishness, how worthless of a man he truly was. This was the perfect opportunity for her to just push him away and run back home, only to never see him again.

But against all he could have ever expected, he was completely shaken out of his low self-esteem filled transe when he felt her leaning her delicate hands and head against his chest, closing her eyes and relishing in his warm hold still on her.

"Prince Doppio... I feel so safe when I'm in your arms... I'll forever be grateful for granting me my deepest wish..." She lifted her head just enough to look at his blushing freckled face, his mouth agape. "How could I ever reward you?"

Was she... Really serious? Nobody has ever told him they felt good around him. Nobody has ever felt safe around the small and skinny man that was Doppio. Could he be strong enough for her?

Well one thing was positive, he didn't want to let her go, and if he had to eat razor blades to protect her, he would do it without batting an eye.

She actually wanted to, or at least seemed to, stay with him. She felt grateful, for him, of all people!

He hoped she wouldn't hear his heart go feral in his chest. She would do... Anything for him? Could he be selfish? Could he ask the inimaginable? Would she say yes? He wouldn't force her but... He would love to think about himself only, just this once in his life.

He had nothing to lose.

He gently grabbed both her hands in his surprisingly big ones, squeezing gently and rubbing his thumbs over her soft skin, as if to want to imprint his love onto her.

"Ma-... Marry me, Princess Y/N!" He confessed with loud yet clear determination. "Please, be mine! I will cherish you like my most prized treasure, you will never be alone and feel unsafe again! I promise my entire life to you, please promise me yours!"

She widened her eyes at his sudden assertiveness and his strong, meaningful words. The pink boy in front of her shook her heart in so many ways, and she had already lost everything to Dio in the past. She had absolutely no reason to deny, now did she?

The girl smiled bright and slowly pulled her hands out of his grasp, only to immediately wrap her arms around her hero's neck, nuzzling her face against him lovingly.

"Yes! I accept... my sweet Doppio."

[calumxkisses]

One Last Dance | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst

warnings: death and blood (not too graphic)

summary: servant!calum au x princess!reader.

a/n: hi! i’m still not really good with au imagines, i changed the request a little because i had no idea how to write someone getting beheaded. sorry for beign late and hope you like it!

you should read this imagine while listening to: the night we met

✰ ✰ ✰

“I love you.” He whispers before he closes his eyes for the last time. You see his soul leaving its body and, as much as try to shake it, you know that he’ll never wake up. His face lies on your hands, leaning against what was once the dress of your dreams, once white, now stained in red, the diamonds on the corsage reflect the hell you are experiencing as your lips cry out in pain.

His lifeless body is lying on the floor, getting colder and colder and you can't think of how it was transmitting heat just a few seconds before. The sword that took your happiness away lies next to your lover's body, its owner is now gone but you know where to find them, they rest in the same rooms where you once took refuge from nightmares and sought peace.

Peace. A word that sounds almost funny now, so taken for granted and appreciated now that it's gone.

Peace, that you felt as you were lying on the hill, far away from the castle, with your head on Calum's lap, while your hands intertwined daisies and his mouth told tales of monsters and princesses, princes and weddings.

Peace was what you felt when his hands, calloused by all the hard work done during the day, caressed your face during sleepless nights, in the dark, hidden from prying eyes and from a world that would never accept your love.

Peace was what you felt when his strong arms made you spin between laughter and kisses, in that white and gold room, on that same floor that now sees your smile transformed into pain and your kisses transformed into tears.

The crown falls from your head as you lower your face to caress his face and it makes a shrill noise, like a broken dream, and like never before you hate all those stones and all that iron. So many times you have prayed to be normal, to do a humble job, to wear old and filthy clothes and to be free to be able to look at those eyes in the sunlight, amid the laughter of children and the screams of peasant sellers, while some little girls looks at you and dreams of a love like yours, where nothing matters besides you.

You feel your heart tug, break, get stab, every second is more painful and you know that it'll never stop hurting.

The sun is rising from the window on your right, the mirror reflects the first rays of the sun that struggle to shed light in the darkness of the night.

Soon, someone will walk through the door in front of you, unaware of the love that has been interrupted and of the life that has been sacrificed for an alliance of peoples, for a stupid belief in social classes and gold, land and castles.

They will cross the threshold of that door, mentally repeating the chores to do just to see the princess cry over the body of a humble servant, too young to know things like love but grown up enough to fight for it. They will wonder what happened as they cover their shock with their hands and crouch down next to you, making sure you’re okay and telling you to dry your tears, because the people must not see the darkness that is hidden behind the castle gate.

And while their clothes will try to clean the blood from your hands, you will have to explain how the king, the man they acclaim so much, is unable to love, such a simple thing compared to the thousand daily feats for which he gets celebrated.

You will have to tell them about the way his sword pierced the heart of a young boy, unarmed and full of hope, without hesitation.

You will have to tell about the way he looked you in the eyes and the ice that surrounds his heart, how he did not care for the happiness of his daughter, the same daughter he shows and compliments in front of generals and other kings.

He was not supposed to know, not like this. Your father was supposed to see your love from your eyes and know about it from you, he was supposed to listen to you telling him how much Calum meant to you and to bless your secret marriage, not finding it out from jealous servants and interruping it with a murder because he promised you to someone else.

So you close your eyes and squeeze his body even closer to yours, its scent fills your nostrils and surrounds your body. Your mind starts wandering and you let it go, every place is better than the reality you are living.

He was just a boy! He had his whole life in front of him, he had humble dreams and a passion for life that only children have. He was passionate about what he did, he enjoyed learning new languages ​​while cleaning horses and serving kings of distant lands, he loved playing a small instrument he had found in the garbage but which he treated as the most precious of treasures.

And no matter the time it was outside, he was able to bring sunshine even on the darkest days. He did his work with dedication, never left anything unfinished and helped others whenever needed. How were you supposed to move on?

He knew you loved the stars and had walked miles just to learn facts about astronomy from the best of astronomers so that he always had something new to tell you. He had been taught how to write so that he was able to tell you how much he loved you even when he couldn't speak. He had collected every flower on the lawn of the castle and put them in a small jar for you, so that you could admire their beauty even in winter.

And when the tears ran down your face, he had embroidered a handkerchief on purpose to be able to dry them, because such special tears could not be wasted.

As your mind wanders through the memories of his spontaneous kisses when he passed by by chance, you hear music in the distance.

The piano plays sweet melodies, surrounding the two of you like a warm blanket during a winter day. You stand at the center of the white and gold room, on the ballroom floor. Your white long gown whisks against the ground as he holds a hand in front of him.

He stands before you, looking beautiful as ever. His suit fits him perfectly, his brown eyes drawing you to him.

“My love.” He whispers with a sad smile on his face. There’s no trace of blood in his clothes and his eyes are still sparkling with life inside of them.

“Calum.” His name is the only thing you’re able to say. You know that it’s just a dream and any word won’t express enough what you’re feeling.

You don’t want to close your eyes, the fear of losing him again it's too much to even risk blinking. You can’t leave him again, you just can’t.

“Don’t be scared. You have a whole future ahead of you, love. You’ll reach your goals, make your dreams come true, you’ll have a happy life and I’ll be there, always by your side.”

“But you won’t be really there! We had so many plans for us, like that little house in the countryside and you promised me to teach our future children all the fairy tales you told me. It's not fair.”

You see a tear running down his face, his hand wipes it away but the sadness in his eyes can’t be wiped away that easily. Not anymore, not with a kiss or not with a sky full of stars. He won’t see them anymore, he won’t feel the sun on his skin or the warmth of the fireplace in your secret place, over the hill, to the right of the lake.

“You had a life ahead. We had so many things to do, so many dreams to fulfill, so many lands to explore. I can’t do this without you.”

“You can and you will. You are a bright, intelligent woman. You are capable of doing anything you want. I know we had so many dreams for us, but I'm sure you’ll manage to make them true in your own way. I will always be next to you, you will not see me but I will make sure that nothing else happens to you. You deserve to move forward, to become the woman you are meant to be. I believe in you. Now, come here, please. Let me hold you one last time.”

And you know that you can say whatever you want but any word will make him come back to you.

He takes your hand, holds your waist and pulls you closer. It’s a familiar thing for you, you’d danced this way a thousand times before, in this very room, the enchanting music enveloping your new world, just the two of you.

This time, thought, is different. He was about to fade away forever, you’d have to leave him behind, his smile would never bring joy to your life anymore. It feels like heaven but hurts like hell.

So, as he pulls you into his embrace, spinning you around the room, you try to ignore the tears that are running down your face. You just want to enjoy the warmth of his hugs and his hand on yours for the rest of your life, is that too much to ask?

As the music comes to an end, you feel his hands shaking and the tremor on his voice as he whispers: “It’s time to go.”

“One more song, please.” You whisper, burying your head into his shoulder, tears brimming in your eyes.

So he spins you around more, his hands never letting yours go. There’s not much time left and you know it.

“Do you remember the night we met?” You ask, a smile forming on your lips at the memory.

“I do, we were just children but I remember every detail. You were wearing that small red dress, too caught up on the lanterns flying in the sky to notice that I was looking at you. I explored all the castle and yet you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And when you finally saw me, instead of screaming at me because I wasn’t doing my job, you asked me if I was okay and if I had eaten enough, before telling me the story of the lanterns.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay before boring you with my words.”

“You could have never bored me. You were the first one to show kindness to me, to treat me like one of yours.”

“Your heart is richer than any king's treasure, Calum.”

As the music fades and the weak flames of the candles in the room flick out, he holds you even closer, not bothering to hold his sobs any longer. The ballroom is getting colder and his body it's not as warm as it was before. He’s starting to feel lifeless again but you don’t want to let him go.

You’ll come back to reality, where love is hated and war is celebrated. You’ll have to pretend to be fine, showing a smile that hides an unimaginable pain. You’ll look into the eyes of your father and the irises that once never failed to reassure you will now be the reason for your cold heart.

Mostly important, you’ll have to live in a reality without Calum in it, without his smile in the morning or his kisses under the moonlight. A reality that was certainly not worth fighting for, not as much as the love you were meant to live.

“I love you too, always.” You whisper, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes, filled with so much sadness that it was almost unbearable. He smiles.

You open your eyes, your body still lays close to his, his eyes are closed and his voice is not asking you one last dance.

There’s a small smile on his face but you’re too distracted by footsteps outside the room to notice it.

[dadsbongos]

Hey, Arvin?

Movie/Game/Show: The Devil All The Time Dynamic: Arvin Russell/Reader Warnings: spoilers for the movie? idk, post-ending time Summary: Self-doubt is often clouded as banter, and Arvin knows that better than anybody - especially after growing close to a certain farm girl. ~~~

Arvin didn't know he would wind up on a farm in the outskirted heart of Terrace Park. He truly did mean to sign himself to war in Cincinnati but it just never happened. A lot of things just didn't seem to work out for Arvin, so he didn't bother himself over it too much - not after everything he'd already done. Besides, his work was good and honest and the people who'd taken him in were good and honest.

Father, uncle, sons, and daughter. They were tight-knit - they had to be with the distant lands they'd been handed as a living space. No neighbors for miles, the children only had each other and the animals to play with until he came along. When the uncle came into a bar within town at sundown and convinced Arvin that being a farmhand was a good life. Now, Arvin was up before the sun with calluses burning at his hands and two young boys clinging to his boots as he went around the farm. But he can't say he hated it.

The two boys, only one year apart from each other and over ten years from him, were like little brothers to Arvin at this point. They were balls of sunshine throughout the home and if they wanted to lend a sinner like him some light, who was he to refuse?

The uncle, the man who'd found him that night, was deceptively sweet. A hulking figure with a soft heart beneath all the muscle. Deceptively smart, too. He'd gone to a life of education before coming to his brother-in-law's side at the farm. He was like a mentor and guiding hand, a kind one, a patient one. One who wanted the best for his loved ones; his nephews and niece, his brother by marriage, and for Arvin himself.

The father was largely unknown to Arvin. Gone away on matters that nobody seemed to know. Personal business. According to the boys, he used to be an involved and loving man until their mother fell ill and eventually died. And Arvin felt sickened upon that news. He felt pity for the children, he knew what it was like to be young and not understand why your mother had to go and your father was bent on going too. He could only pray that their father didn't go down the path his own had.

The daughter, their ages matching, was his favorite to spend time with. She wouldn't do her chores when the others were around, preferring to sit and watch her family as they did theirs. She would trail Arvin around the farm and talk as he worked. Sometimes she asked about what the town was like, other times she would tease him about being so quiet. Playful. Had enough heart to apologize if she ever felt that she crossed a line. He liked that about her. He liked a lot of things about her.

"Hey, Arvin?"

It was a simple phrase, one he'd heard countless times, but it was different from her. A teasing tone and a smile to match - her legs kicking out as she sat atop a stack of hay and watched Arvin brush the horses' manes.

"What is it, darlin'?"

"You ever take Arkle out for a midnight ride?"

She knew he did. She had to have. Why else would she bother with such a question?

"Just askin' since I hadn't found him out here last night. Figured he'd gotten out until I saw you out in the field with him."

Arvin pulled away from May's dirty brown mane to give the girl a quirked brow, "Why bother askin' if you already knew the answer?"

"I like seein' ya get all flustered. Thought you'd figured that out by now."

"Well, what were you doin' out here so late then?" Arvin returned to the horses as he asked.

"Just thinkin' was all."

"That right?" he spared the girl a quick glance, "What was that head a' yours so troubled with?"

She ignored his question and that didn't surprise him. She didn't like exposing her thoughts to anyone. Kept her worries and doubts to herself like they were precious gems, and with as little as this family had, they might as well have been. When you don't have much to call your own, your thoughts and feelings start to feel like little treasures. Arvin knew that first-hand and he wasn't about to steal someone's treasures by digging where he didn't belong.

"You ain't gotta tell me," he only said it to ease the tension of having been brushed over, "Just know I'm here. You follow me around all day, might as well talk to me if you need to."

The last thing he needed - or wanted - was to lose another person in his life. Especially if just talking to them could've prevented it. He knows he should've been keeping a better eye on Lenora and he hopes beyond hope she forgives him for that. He prays that her and her baby are well-cared for in heaven. If anybody deserves to be in the eternal sweetspot of God's domain, it's his dear sister.

"Hey, Arvin?"

Today, he was shucking corn, seated on a barrel, when she called to him from behind. He turned his head and nodded to let her know he was listening.

"You were awful quiet at breakfast this morning. Barely spoke to the boys at all."

"Just thinkin', darlin'. You ain't gotta worry 'bout me."

"I'll always worry 'bout you, Arvin," he feels her hands settle on his shoulders, "You came into Terrace Park alone. You got brought in by Uncle. You're around my baby brothers all the time. My boys, Arvin. My boys. We might share an age but we ain't share a brain. All I can see into your head is all I know about mine. It ain't just for you, Arvin. My daddy hasn't been the same since Mama passed and someone's gotta take care of the family. Uncle loves you to death and I don't blame him, but I'm still worryin'."

He got it. He understood. He was that way with Lenora, and he just wishes he could've done better to protect her. He wishes he could've keep his father around. He wishes his mother wasn't robbed from him so soon. He wishes he had less blood on his hands.

"Can I ease your worries at all?" he returns to his task of shucking corn.

"Where'd you get in from? Why're you here?"

"Knockemstiff. Coal Creek. Nowhere too far," he inhaled sharply as he went to begin his tale of why he left, leaving out certain unsavory details, "I had a sister. She was sweet. Lonely. I left her alone with the wrong sonofabitch," he felt anger begin boiling inside his veins as he relived that day, "she killed herself over him so I… I left. Had nothin' else there for me than makin' sure she was okay and I couldn't even do that."

"Arvin," she leans forward and presses her hands over his, "you didn't hafta tell me if it was so personal. 'M sorry I pried. Sorry about your sister, too, that's awful."

"No," he drops the corn when he realizes how shaky his hands have gotten, "I needed to get that out," he feels his heart burn the longer that her hands rest on his, "I still miss her. I shoulda been there."

Earskell should've kept tighter watch like he'd said.

Those bullies should've known better than to pick on Lenora.

Teagardin should've followed the book he read by.

"Can I hold you, Arvin?" it's barely a whisper.

He doesn't nod. If he wasn't the one to take initiative and press himself back into her chest then she wouldn't have gotten an answer at all. Her arms come around Arvin's shoulders and circle his chest tighter as his eyes water.

"It ain't your fault. It's that bastard, you know that, don't you?" she pressed her lips to his forehead and rested a cheek to the top of his head, fingers running through his hair, "It ain't your fault. Never was. Never will be."

He appreciates the sentiment even though he knows, deep down inside himself, that he'll never truly believe it. It's kind of her to care so much about a boy like him. He hopes she never has to feel the pain he knows so intimately and he hopes he can protect her brothers like he never got to with Lenora. If not to protect the softness in his own heart for them, then for the sake of a farm girl who's holding him so close as he cries in a cornfield.

"Hey, Arvin?"

It's hours past late and he hasn't been able to catch a wink of sleep. The dining table he's seated himself at is swamped in darkness and he's surprised she can even make out his figure.

"Late night, darlin'?"

"Heard you gettin' up. What're you doin' out here? I know it ain't eatin'."

"How can you tell?"

"Eatin' so late with not even a candle is just sad, Arvin. We got more to worry about than sleepin' if that's what you're doin'."

He grins at her answer and shakes his head, "Just can't sleep. You go on to bed; need your beauty rest."

It's that idea that has her feet practically cemented to the ground and her brows furrowing in her self-consciousness. She feels her gut twist at the mention of her needing beauty sleep even though she knows that's not how he meant it.

"Hey Arvin…?"

He nods before remembering she can't see him, "What is it, darlin'?"

"Do…" she presses her lips into a thin line before finally spewing out the question, "d'you think I'm pretty?"

"Well, what kind a' question is that? Wouldn't your daddy kill me for somethin' like that."

"Daddy ain't around long enough."

"I think you're plenty pretty, darlin', but don't worry 'bout what me or what any other boy has to say on your looks, you hear me? Ain't no boy in control of your body, so don't let any of 'em take anythin' from you," Arvin's quiet, voice rasped, "Nobody livin' in that body 'sides you, so you just make sure you like yourself before worryin' on what anyone else has to say."

He thought she was breathtaking, intelligent, fun - he wouldn't ramble on it for as long as he wished only because he wanted her to realize what truly mattered. She was clearly nervous in awaiting his response, if the quivers in her voice were anything to go by, and he wanted to answer this right. He wanted her to know that at the end of the day, all that mattered was her opinion on herself - because she, and she alone, was inside that body until it died. She had to love herself before someone like him had any say. Arvin's learned how to handle such situations since losing the only people he's ever cared for.

"You really think that?"

"Absolutely, darlin'," he nodded before coming to a stand and beginning to walk out of the kitchen, "You should get to bed now."

"Arvin," she reached up and took his shoulders into her hand before pressing a kiss to his cheek once she could make it out from the darkness, "you're a real sweetheart, you know that?"

"I'm just me. Ain't the best man, ain't the worst. But I appreciate the compliment," he swallowed down his nerves and kissed her forehead gently, "Sleep well, now, darlin'."

"Hey, Arvin?" she murmurs as he begins his trek back to his room.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you… for everything. I know you haven't been here the longest, but I can't imagine us without you now."

"I can't imagine me without any a' you either, so don't worry about thankin' me, darlin'."

[empower-bi-women]

Oh Captain, My Captain

Sab’s writing challenge

Prompt: @socksracoon10: I think I found my dream.. well, basically Steve Rogers being a complete sweetheart and taking care of me and my insecurities but one day when I’m talking with someone he just pummels into a dark pit and freaking destroys me.

Warnings: SMUT SO STAY OUT MINORS, unprotected sex (don’t do that shit) praise kink, D/S (kinda, I tried my best), edging, captain kink, mocking/condescending, maybe dark!Steve, probably a few spelling and grammar stuff 

Word count: 2940 (this is my longest fic so far)

a/n: this is for @nsfwsebbie dream fic challenge. I got @socksracoon10 I hope it lives up to your dream. Also sorry if the ending is a bit rushed I'm not good and ending things. Gif isn’t mine so credit to who made it. Also that’s so him walking over to punish you 😏

Steven Grant Rogers is the perfect man. He always holds the door open for you, pulls your chair out for you, and always makes you feel better when you're sad. He's not a jealous man, not that he would ever let you see that side of him. That side is dark and animalistic and you deserve better. You’re full of light and sunshine even on the days you don't feel like it. On those days he holds you close and tries his best to make your worries go away. Today is one of those days. Tony was hosting a party and you were nervous about going and having to wear a dress. 

“Steve, I don't think I can wear this.” you said holding up the dark blue floor length dress. 

His head snapped up to see you standing in the bathroom doorway in nothing but your baby blue bra and panties with a frown on your face. He got up from his seat on your bed to walk over to you. “And why would that be doll?”

You pulled a face. “It's too tight at my thighs and when I bend over you can see my stomach rolls through it.” you turned to look in the mirror, “Maybe I should just stay here tonight I'm gonna be too awkward there anyway.” 

Steve stood behind you and wrapped his arms around you. “Do you know why I love you so much?” he pressed a kiss to your head, “It's because you're so incredibly beautiful. I love the way your eyes shine when you're happy, and the way you always smile at me, the way you are so kind to everyone. I love the way your body fits so perfectly in mine, I love the way your thighs wrap around me when I pick you up, and the way you always try to quiet those little gasps that escape when I make you cum, and.” He cut himself off, “Just please doll come tonight and I promise we don't even have to stay that long.” he looked at you with his pleading blue eyes. 

“Ok I’ll come.” you replied with a small smile.

Steve kissed your head again. “Thank you Y/N.”  Then he walked out to go get dressed.

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

At the party you stayed close to the bar and to Steve. When he had to leave to talk to people you stayed and talked to Natasha, who was behind the bar serving. A few drinks later and Steve was still gone. Natasha had left to talk with Bucky who was standing alone. She asked for you to come too but you declined, not wanting to intrude on the couples private time. After a while a man came up next to you. 

“Hi, I’m Dean.” he said, flashing his white teeth in a smile.

 “I’m Y/N.” you replied with a somewhat forced smile. 

“What's a pretty girl like you doing alone here?” 

You looked over at Steve who was still talking and had not yet noticed Dean. 

“I'm not alone, I'm here with my boyfriend. He's just over there.” you gesture to where Steve was standing. 

“Well he should be here with you shouldn't he?” Dean moved closer to you and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “or someone could come and snatch you up.” 

Before you could say anything to defend yourself Dean was suddenly ripped away from you and in front stood an angry Steve “let’s go.” he growled. He grabbed your arm and pulled you to the elevator. 

Once inside you tried to explain what had happened with Dean but Steve just stood there with his jaw clenched and steel blue eyes facing forward. There was no emotion on his face. A face you recognize from when he was going on missions. His whole demeanour was different. He was no longer the soft Steve that you knew who would hold you close and tell you it's ok. This was the Captain. 

The elevator dinged and Steve grabbed you, pulling you out of your thoughts, threw you over his shoulder and walked toward your room. He opened the door and threw you onto the bed with such force that you bounced. You scrambled to the headboard and looked at him waiting for what's next. 

“I thought I could trust you doll,” he said, loosening his tie as he walked around in front of you, “then you go behind my back and start getting cozy with other guys?” 

“Steve I promise I wasn't, I swear.” he cut you off with a look

“Now doll don’t you be lying to me. You're mine and I think it's time I remind you of that.”

He grabbed your leg and pulled your body down the mattress toward him and leaned over your body looking into your eyes. “If there is any point in the night where you want to stop just say star ok Y/N?” you nod your head. “I need words doll.” 

“Yes Steve.”

“You call me Captain tonight doll.” 

He leaned down to catch your lips in a heated kiss and pulled you up to sit on the bed while he unzipped your dress. “You're gonna be a good girl for me right Y/N?” he mumbled against your lips as he pulled off your dress, letting it pool on the floor at your feet. Pushing you back to the bed Steve crawled back on top of you and kissed his way down to your neck, licking and biting your neck leaving faint red marks that would be purple tomorrow. Satisfied with his work he continued on his path down your now naked body.

“You weren’t very nice tonight doll teasing me in the dress. Looking so fucking amazing you’re so beautiful. And you’re all mine”

You moan at his words but before you can cover your mouth to stifle them Steve grabs your hands. “Don’t even think about it doll I wanna hear every single sweet little sound that comes out of those pretty pink lips” 

His free hand slid down your body to where your panties were and he lightly rubbed your slit over the material as you moaned again “Captain please” he laughed at your neediness. “Look at my baby so ready for me. Such a good girl for me. Can you keep your hands up here for me please doll?” you nodded your head and he took his hand away from your wrists above your head and moved to pull your panties off your body. 

His big hands wrapped around your thighs and spread them open. When the cool air hit your pussy you whimpered. “Please Steve do something, please.” 

His head snapped up. “What did you call me?” 

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Captain.” 

“No doll, you need to learn your lesson,” he picked you up and lay you stomach down across his lap. “You broke my one rule and now you face the consequences.” he said rubbing your ass softly, “you need to count for me now.” 

SMACK! Pain went shooting though your ass as Steve's hand came down hard. “One.” you counted out. SMACK! “Two.” 

By the time you got to ten there were tears streaming down your face. 

“Your ass looks so good doll, your brown skin all red and covered in my hand prints,” he lifted you up to sit on his lap and wiped your tears away, “you took that so well baby I’m so proud of you.” he said laying you back down, the cool sheets soothed the burn on your bum. “Keep your hand up doll and don't make me have to tell you again or you'll need another lesson.” 

He moved one hand to hover right above where you wanted him. You tried to lift your hips up to meet him but he put his forearm across your hips to hold them down. “You need to stay still for me doll or you won't get what you want.” 

You whined and lay as still as you could as he finally reached down and lightly ran his fingers through your slit. “Look at you all wet. Who's this for baby? Who are you all wet for?” he questioned as he spread your wetness around with his fingers. 

“You, only for you Captain.” You said breathlessly. 

“Damn right.” he dove into your wetness and licked a long stripe up your pussy while his finger rubbed your clit. Making the filthiest noises he moaned into you, “you taste so fucking good baby so good,” his finger moved from your clit to your entrance and traced around your lips down there, “I just can’t get enough of your sweet little pussy. And those adorable moans that you try to hide, I love hearing them.” 

You so badly wanted to run your hands through his hair but you kept them up like he requested. His warm wet tongue slipped into your pussy as you yelled out his name. Wapping his lips around in your clit he sucked hard. It had only been a few minutes but you were worked up from your punishment before.

 “I’m close, Captain can I cum please.” you whimpered 

He pulled his mouth away only to enter a finger and move it right up against your g spot in a come here motion. Your hips lifted off the bed but his finger stayed tight inside you. You were so close, right on the edge, all you needed was one more push and… he pulled his finger out. 

“No please I was so close.” you said raggedly. Your voice horse from all the moaning and screaming. 

“You’ve been a bad girl, doll. You need to be edged to make Captain happy. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl and take your edges for me?”  he asked in a sweet yet condescending tone. His hand brushed your hair away from your face. “Don’t you want to be my good girl?” his sparking blue eyes looked into yours. 

“Yes Captain.”

“That’s my girl.” he kissed his way back down your chest and wrapped his lips around your stiff nipples. When his tongue swirled around it, it felt like an out of body experience. Moving over to the other nipple his hand slid down your body to your clit. Putting pressure on the little nub made your eyes roll to the back of your head. With all the stimulation to your body you could feel your pussy clench around air as you got close.

“Can I cum now please?” your thighs were shaking with the effort that it took you to hold off from bursting right then and there. He pulls off your nipple with a pop. “Aw is my baby close?” He asked in a mocking tone, “How badly do you wanna cum?”

“So bad Captain please I need to cum so badly.” your hand grasped at the sheets above your head. Your hips lifted off the bed once more as Steve rubbed your clit with no remorse. 

“I don’t believe you baby.” he pulled his hand off your swollen clit.

“No! Steve please I need to cum so bad! Please.” you cried out shakily. 

He smacked your clit. “What was that?”

You jerked from the sharp pain. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry Captain. It won't happen again. I just.” Your chest started heaving as tears streamed down your face. “I’m sorry. I'll be good I promise. I just want to be a good girl for you.” 

He kissed the tears away. “You are baby.” he said in a soothing voice, “You're my good girl. But I need you to breathe for me right now ok? You're my best girl.” He stroked your hair out of your face as your breathing evened out. “Can you take one more for me please?” 

You nodded your head. “Yes I can.”

He kissed your forehead before going back down to your glistening thighs. He kissed each one before leaving a light kiss on your clit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the feeling of his warm mouth on your oversensitive clit. He dipped his tongue into your pussy,  licking through your wet folds. It felt like heaven and all feelings of resentment towards him for withholding your previous orgasms were gone as your third one built up. Your back arched off the bed as your breathing quickened. 

“I'm so close please.” you begged. When he pulled his mouth away you kicked your legs in frustration. He looked at you, his chin glistening in your juices as he smiled at you. “You took that so well doll, I’m so proud of you. How do you want to cum?” he whispered. 

“I need your cock please.” 

He smiled down at you “of course doll.”

He took his underwear off to reveal his dick, precum leaking from the tip. Your pussy clenched at the sight of it as he moved to lean over you. He pressed a kiss to your lips while rubbing his cock up and down your slit, covering himself in your juices. You gasped at the feeling and he slipped his tongue into your mouth. He swirled his around yours as he slowly sank into you. You both moaned at the feeling of finally getting some relief. 

You moved your hands to grip his shoulders as he moved his hips in and out slowly. Steve groned at the feeling of you wet walls pulling him in. “Sweetheart you feel so fucking good around me. But if you keep on squeezing me like that I won't last very long.” he groaned. 

He quickened his pace, snapping his hips into yours. You gasped as you could feel him so deep in you he was practically fucking your cervix but you didn’t mind it. You look down to see where your bodies met and whimpered when you saw the bugle in your stomach. 

Steve's eyes flicked down to where you were looking and growled at the sight of his cock so deep inside you. He pressed down on it as he kept thrusting into you. “Look at that doll, you're so full.” your eyes rolled back as he applied more pressure. “You like that?” he growled into your ear. You couldn’t say anything, the pleasure overwhelming you. “Look at you my little dumb baby. Can't even talk, she's so cockdrunk.”

The sound of your skin slapping and the squelching of your wetness filled the room. His cock hit your g spot on every thrust making you reach the edge sooner than you’d like. 

“Captain can- can I cum please?” you wailed, the knot in your stomach was about to unravel. 

“You can but I’m not stopping until I’m satisfied.” he said rubbing your poor clit once again to bring you to the edge. Your body tensed up and your pussy clenched around his cock as the knot snapped, pushing you over the edge. You yelled out his name as he kept true to his word, not stopping. He kept on pounding into you with no remorse. The overstimulation was too much and you tried to move away. 

“Where do you think you're going doll, you were begging for my cock and now you're trying to run? His hands moved to your hips to pull you back onto him. His thrusts started to get sloppy as he neared his release. “Are you gonna cum one more time for your Captain? Be a good girl and cum with me. I’m gonna fill up this little pussy with my cum  and you're just going to take it. Right? Because you're my good girl.”

He flicked your clit, trying to get you near the edge again. You panted as you were coming on to your second orgasm of the night. “Fuck I’m gonna cum again! Can I cum please?” 

“Such a good girl asking for permission. Cum now!” he demanded. You squealed as you came around his cock your vision went white. He came right after you, the feeling of his hot cum shooting into you and covering your walls made you both moan out. 

You lay there feeling fucked out as Steve pulled out. He watched intently as his cum dripped out of your gaping pussy. After cleaning you up he moved to sit behind you, pulling you into his lap he brushed your hair out of your face. “You did so good for me tonight doll, I'm so proud of you.” 

You couldn't do anything but lay there whimpering at the empty feeling inside you. 

“What is it sweetheart?” he cooed. “You need to use your words or I can't help you.” 

“Want you inside me again please.” you said softly. “Just till I fall asleep.”

He laughed. “Of course doll. You can get whatever you want.” 

[shimmershae]

My thoughts on Episode 3--Hunted.

 Most of you lovelies already realize this, but my thoughts tend to zig and zag quite a bit, lol.  So.  To save some of you the headache and spare you from seeing spoilers you’d rather not see yet, I’m again placing them behind a cut.  

First things first.  I have totally turned into Yvette Nicole Brown with her TWD notebooks, lol, and I’m not even sorry.  I just felt like it would be fun to go back when the final episode is in the books and see how well my thoughts from these early episodes line up with what I’m feeling when we say our (not-so) final goodbyes.  

But that’s enough about that. Let’s get to this thing.  

It really is insane how very much I love Melissa McBride.  Just hearing her doing the previously on TWD recap voiceover makes me ridiculously happy.  

Cole!  Dude!  We hardly knew ya.  

Not gonna lie.  That first shot of Maggie in all the chaos reminded of a shirt I’ve seen.  It says--”Well, well, well.  If it isn’t the consequences of my actions.”  

I have to hand it to Angela and the rest of her team.  These opening scenes--on all 3 episodes--have been BOMB so far.  They really hook you in right away.  At least IMHO.  

I realize I’m behind the game on this little tidbit, but how much do I adore the fact that Dog is now in the opening credits?  

Okay.  Alexandria might look like it’s been on some kind of post-apocalyptic bender but all our girls are looking beautiful as ever.  Maybe it’s Maybelline, lol.  

I love to see Kelly and Carol still gravitating toward each other.  It really speaks to each woman’s heart.  Carol wants to make amends so badly and Kelly just has the most lovely, warm, forgiving heart.  

Carol’s point about Alexandria still needing the horses to help with the heavy lifting and pointing out the walls and rebuilding won’t matter quite as much if they’re limited by their  hunger and what they can physically lift on their own isn’t wrong.  But I’m sure the same viewers that were okay with Daryl and Co. going out on Maggie’s suicide mission (using the same reasoning) and saying it made sense for the bigger picture will pretend not to recognize that the same element is there in Carol’s desire to go out there and look for the horses.  You know.  Because it was Carol’s idea and not that of their fave(s).  

Aaron, Man.  Or maybe I should say Angela.   You just had to put a pit of dread in my belly mentioning Buttons like that.  RIP, Buttons.  You deserved better.  I’m still traumatized.  

Look at all the babies bonding.  Look at RJ getting to sit at the big kid table.  

“My mom always comes back.”  She damn well better.  Those babies need her.  Until she does, though, Uncle Daryl and Aunt Carol (and Aunt Rosita and everybody else) are going to be there.  

Anyway.  Poor RJ.  He barely ever gets any lines, lol.  

Hershel and Judith are obviously the mini-adults in this group and baby Rhee is already more cynical and jaded than his sweet daddy was until they reached Alexandria and the wheels started to come off.  

So.  Does Maggie just think everybody’s already dead here or what?  Hmm.  

You know.  Any building can be creepy AF when the lights are off and it’s dark, lol.  Any building.  

So much darkness so far this season.  I’m going to have to invest in some blackout curtains.  I just know it.  

Where are all those stairs leading?  Why am I thinking of Hitchcock?  Am I mixing up my scary, suspenseful movies?  Probably.  

Of fucking course, Maggie dropped her flashlight.  Thank goodness she had that lighter at the ready just before Ghost Face Reaper took a swipe at her.  

Is that Father G with a screwdriver impaled in his thigh?  Listen.  These people deserve a Mega Bottle of pain killers and a week just vegging out in a soft, luxurious bed.  

All these horror movie tropes.  Some of them are cheesy, yes.  But I’m totally here for it.  

LMAO.  That’s it, Maggie.  A good old punch in the nuts works every time.  

Alden really is having a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day.  

Negan is still Negan.  Self-serving and looking out for number one.  But I believe the man really does feel the group is his group too.  He’s like that long lost, sketchy uncle nobody wants to acknowledge much less invite to the dinner table, but that bond?  However thin?  Is there.  

I am both hating that Maggie is being forced to work with the man that murdered her husband (my baby Glenn) and finding it fascinating the lengths she’s willing to go to survive.  This your plan, Angela?  

Rosita and Carol!  How sad is it that the last really significant scene I can remember the two of these women sharing was way back?  Before Rick and Co. attacked Negan’s outpost and Maggie and Carol were subsequently taken?  If only the show had done more of these kind of scenes.  

How much do I love all the girls working together?  Gimps would never.  They’d all be stuck back at Alexandria minding the kids and the community.  

Shallow aside--Rosita is so pretty in this scene.  

Rosita being worried about Carol honestly makes my heart hurt, because it’s about damn time more of them actually did.  Her saying Abraham is trying to tell her something in her dreams is interesting.  Angela sure loves her dreams, doesn’t she?  

Where are Daryl’s dreams, hmm?  No.  Seriously.  I guess they want to give some viewers plausible deniability until the bitter end.  

“Really?  We’re just gonna go toward the screaming?  Cool.”  Hahaha.  You know.  Even the smart people in horror movies sometimes bite it, Negan.  Just saying.  Maggie really does need to “stop running up the staircase” when she could just run out the front door though, lol.  

Poor Duncan.  I think you could have been another Tyreese, Jerry type for me.  

WTF does this show have against horses?  Those poor creatures.  

Kelly is totally me right now.  I’d be freaking inconsolable.  

Carol needed that hug.  Thank you, Magna.  From the bottom of this tired fangirl’s heart, thank you.  

Why give us that beautiful, golden shot with the horses when you’re planning to stab us through the heart later and twist the knife.  Oh.  Yeah.  That’s exactly why.  

Oh snap!  Father G’s delivery when he tells that Reaper “I’m not.  God isn’t here anymore.”  Cold as ice.  

Judas.  That the Reapers’ work.  Or.  Damn.  Either way, that’s harsh.  

Back to what Alden was saying.  All these oprhaned children.  Who’s going to take on Adam if he dies?  That poor kid has had a rough go of it.  Knowing that, makes you wonder what Alden was thinking volunteering for the suicide mission.  

Omigosh.  There went Agatha.  Terrible way to go.  Right, Beatrice?  

I’m sobbing.  Carol with the horse.  That hurt my baby so much but she hurt herself for her family the same way she has been doing since the Prison.  Melissa Mcbride?  When she cries, I cry.  Every effin’ time.  Aaron being there just made it hurt more.  But at least someone was there to see how and really take in how she continues to break pieces of herself off to keep her family as whole and safe and happy as she can.  

Rewinding a minute--that Magna and Carol conversation.  I get Magna’s reasoning too.  I do.  But Angela is just making everything so dire right now so that the sun when Connie is ultimate found shines a ltitle brighter.  

Those babies know they’re eating horse.  I could never.  

That’s got to be a different Coco.  She’s even smaller.  But she’s gorgeous.  

Fucking finally.  Angela having the other characters notice after an eternity of being blind to it, just how much Carol sacrifices of herself for them.  It’s so long overdue and I imagine Rosita’s even more worried for Carol now.  It’s a shame it’s taken 11 seasons.  My baby’s had blood on her hands trying to keep her family safe and whole and happy and fed for a long damn time.  So heartbreaking watching her try to scrub the blood away.  

Sweet, sweet hug that Kelly gave Magna.  She’s such a sweetheart kid sis to all of them, isn’t she?  

Interesting place of refuge.  A gutted church.  A visual symbol, Angela, of where Maggie and the rest of our people are now perhaps?  

“It’s easy for you, isn’t it?  Being reckless with sombody’s life...”  Maggie.  Maggie.  Those words would have hit so much harder if we hadn’t spent the majority of the last 2.5 episodes watching you ignore sound advice just because it came out of the mouth of somebody you (justifiably) hate.  

But will Alden be there when Maggie and Negan get back?  That is the question.  Or will he eventually Lucille himself?  

That little bit of lineup Negan music to remind the audience of Negan lovers and sympathizers that he once took great pleasure in murderously swinging a bag at people’s heads was a nice, subtle touch there.  Like agree with her or not, Maggie  is literally left to rely  on the hope, however small it is, that Negan has changed just enough that he won’t try to finish a job he taken on years before--killing what’s left of her.  

Oh lawd.  Next episode sees the return of a character literally nobody asked for.  How excited am I not?  

Dog better not be harmed or so help me.  

Now for Angela’s weekly explanations of WTF she/there were thinking because they been doing this plausible deniability thing so long some people out there watching with biased, muddy stan glasses can no longer separate head canon from canon.  

Is Maggie worried at all about Daryl or does she just assume his superhero powers are in full effect in this episode?  

“You can’t really say it wasn’t going to happen anyway.”  Not Angela pointing out that simply laying the blame for literally everything bad that ever happens at Carol’s feet isn’t the answer.  Say it louder for those in the back.  Alpha was going to do what Alpha wanted to do.  

“There is love there.  There is respect there.  However, there’s also frustration...”  You damn skippy.  Friendships and human relationships are complex AF.  Like Carol. She’s honestly one of the most complicated characters on this show and any show, IMHO.  That’s what makes her so memorable and such a lightning rod for discussion.  

I know I might be in a minority, but I really feel like they need more of those little scenes between the kids to keep things real.  

Kang saying she always feels like she’s going to get murdered in a staircase or parking lot is relatable, funny, and sad all at the same time.  It’s a girl thing.  

Why is Carol’s story giving me Dark Knight vibes?  Like I feel like she’ll gladly shoulder the burden of their distrust, their hate, or their judgment as long as the hard choices she makes keeps them safe.  And she’s still ultimately going to come back to save their asses even when they forsake her.  Just like Bruce Wayne/Batman.  Am I reaching too far, lol?  Because sometimes I do that.  

Anyway.  This is the third episode of the season and the third episode in a row that I mostly enjoyed.  I don’t know if I’m just so relieved and happy to have all the characters and my show back or what, but overall?  I’ve been pleased with the episodes and found something to love in all of them.  

There’s a much stronger horror vibe woven throughout Season 11 so far.  I feel like it’s a return to the roots of the show and I like that.  Literally none of the characters are making perfect choices and this viewer is here for it.  My only complaint so far is there hasn’t been enough Carol but what we’ve been given has felt like a gift and significant in a way that Gimps’ version was not.  Also?  I really hope the trend of the ladies working together and supporting each other continues because they rule the TWD world, lol.  

Hope you enjoyed at least some of my TWD word vomit.  

Until next episode.  

[leelysian]

Strangers 🎧

genre: fluff, one shot, strangers to friends au, maybe slice of life au?

pairing: stranger!soundcloud rapper!changbin x gn!reader

word count: 2.3k 

context: you see a stranger on a bus who played music in his old headphones a little too loudly.

A/N: I started writing this at 1.30 am and it's now 3.44 am. *flops* here's my first entry for @districtninewriters writer's week #22!

Groaning, you stretched your back by bending over backwards trying to get the kinks out. Today was absolutely gruelling and you were completely knackered. After taking in a few extra shifts at your workplace and pulling all those all nighters, you finally scored the full marks in your course quiz and earned some extra cash. Needless to say even though you were feeling like absolute horse shite, at least you were taking home the grades and the dough.

You walked out the door, taking in a huge breath of cold air and slowly exhaled. The entire day you were active and now the weariness was beginning to settle in your muscles. You stopped at the convenience store a couple blocks down to buy yourself a well deserved treat. What better way to treat yourself other than ice cream? The first bite felt like ascending to the heavens- sweet, creamy, delicious goodness took over your tastebuds. You felt a bit lighter. Amazing how the little things after a lot of hard work did wonders.

You walked towards the bus stop, while contemplating on what to splurge on with the extra pay you got, then you got sad once you finished your ice cream. You kept the wrapper in your hand, knowing there's a trash can at the stop. You were going to relax in the bus, do some people watching. Something about observing people go about their lives fascinated you.

You say in the bench after disposing your trash and you put in your earphones to play some classical music as you ovserved things. You watched rowdy teenagers messing around, couples walking hand in hand whispering sweet nothings and smiling, a little girl holding onto her father's hand as he lifts her up, a stray cat dozing on the half wall.

Your observations were put on hold as the bus arrived, you quickly got on and sat at the back. There was a guy dressed in full black wearing a beanie with headphones hanging from his neck connected to his laptop next to your seat on the other side of the bus. He seemed quite out of it. You didn't think anything of it, settling into your seat to look out the window. It was a bit over a half an hour ride to the closest stop near your home. The soothing, melodious notes of Camille Saint Saëns filled your ears but then you were hearing aggressive noises as well.

That's odd. I'm sure Saint Saëns didn't have edm back in his days.

Thinking it would stop but after a few minutes it kept persisting so you took off your earphones to listen. You looked next to you and you couldn't believe your ears. Goodness, the music coming from the man's headphones was outrageously loud for the confined space in a public bus. You looked back, saw an old lady wrinkle her nose in disapproval as she gave him the major stink eye.

Deciding to try your luck because there's no harm in asking. You called out, "excuse me?" He didn't hear, too busy fiddling with his laptop. "Hello?" You said louder but you didn't want to attract attention. Resorting to more assertive means, you tapped his shoulder, he was startled and quickly ripped the headphones off his ears as he looked at you and your breathing hitched. He was cute. Big and beautiful eyes but slightly framed by dark circles, luscious and plump lips, high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, a cute noise and a pointy chin but that didn't dare to disrupt his handsomeness, piercings dotting both ears. You were gobsmacked. The two seconds you took to glance at his face felt like two hours.

But of course, just my luck. See gorgeous strangers in public and then never see them again.

"H-hi uh sorry to bother you. Just wanted to let you know uh your music is really loud, I don't know if you realised that." you said, nearly wincing at how you stuttered. His mouth slightly dropped open and you could see the tips of his ears go red. Cute. "Oh. I'm really sorry about that. I'll keep it down. Just trying to work on my music, I've been listening to this track over and over again but I just can't seem to get it right." You were intrigued. So he was a musician? "Really? I hope you can figure it out." you said and smiled. He smiled back before his face brightened, "Hey, you mind listening to this track and giving me your opinion? If it's not a bother. I think a stranger with an unbiased opinion would help."

You were shocked again. "But I'm not an expert and I don't have an extensive music taste." you countered. He waved his hand and tutted, "Doesn't matter. Please? Unless you're busy." he tried once again, was it the curiosity about his music or was it the beautiful, beguiling eyes combined with the ever so slightly jutted bottom lip. You didn't need much convincing. You gestured for him to scoot over and quickly sat next to him.

He handed you his headphones which were a bit tattered with the foam worn out from either being used a lot or old age. He struck you as the type of guy who'd spend hours making music and perfecting every last note, double checking every last detail. He must've noticed you looking because he explained. "This pair is my baby. Don't let the looks deceive you. They're the first pair I ever got and I've never been let down. I have other pairs but I keep going back to these right here. It's like I can't make music without them." Your cheeks heated, "Oh I wasn't-" He shook his head, "Don't worry about it."

You placed the headphones over your ears and he pressed play. The elements of trap, pop and edm hit you full force, then the beautiful lyrics being sung and rapped moved you. There were other people in this. Other musicians? His friends? You wondered if he sang in this. You were bobbing your head unconsciously. Wow, this man seems like a musical genius. He watched your reactions like a hawk. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed and straightened, he watched your eyes darting, he watched how you couldn't help but bop your head, he watched your fingers tapping on your leg to the beat but most importantly he was watching you because holy shit you were gorgeous. He could write a song about you on the spot. He was enamoured. Maybe he will. A song about how he met a stranger on the bus and helped with his music. Wouldn't that be amazing?

The song ended. You loved it. You wanted to hear more. "I think it's a bit unfinished. Maybe you can extend it a little. The ending seemed abrupt." you said honestly. "Of course I'm not an expert, I don't know any better I just- well you said you wanted an unbiased opinion. Was that rude? I'm-" you rambled. "Hey hey hey, I'm no expert either. No one is but I appreciate your honesty. Don't apologize for being honest. I'll work on that ending and I sorta agree with you now that you mention it." "Say you got anymore music on that laptop of yours? Colour me impressed." you said. You two shared a smile. "Well since you asked so nicely, I shall let you peek into my treasures." he began typing off. "Say, did you just produce the song or?" you trailed off. He looked at you contemplating, "Well I do have a hand in production, I wrote some of the lyrics as in for my part, and I rapped." Your mouth dropped open, this man was a stranger and he gave you more surprises to last you a week. He was like a jack of all trades. What can't he do? Recalling the deep, raspy, gritty voice rapping in killer speed. It all made sense. "THAT WAS YOU?" you said loudly and he shushed you urgently. "Yes." "Dude, that's so cool. Quick show me more." "How do I support you? You asked. "Well, we have a SoundCloud. Just look up 3racha with a 3."

You looked out the window and saw your neighborhood, your stop was coming. That's how the entire bus ride went, you listened to a few of his songs. Each and everyone was unique and extraordinary. You felt the passion in his work. Time was cruel. It was over too quickly. You loved ever single second of this bus ride and you didn't want it to end. How ironic. You couldn't wait for the day to end before getting on the bus and now it seemed to end far too quickly for your liking. "Well, I get off now." you said quietly. He just uttered a soft "oh", visibly deflating. "I had fun. You're an amazing artist and I'll be sure to support you and your mates." He smiled wide, face brightening, "Thanks. It means a lot."

The bus was stopping, you got up and bid him goodbye. You missed the way he was staring longingly at you. You looked back and waved timidly before stepping out. As you got off the bus, He put on his headphones. Both he and you yelled out, "THE NAME!"

Neither of you knew each others' names. "Y/N you idiot. How could you be so stupid? Spent a whole thirty minutes conversing with someone without even knowing their name?!" you said to yourselfz repeatedly slapping your forehead. Little did you know, Changbin did the same in the bus except he was worse off. But wait, you knew his SoundCloud.

An idea popped. You briskly walked home as if someone lit your ass on fire, changed and settled into bed with your phone as you downloaded the SoundCloud app. You searched 3racha, nearly sweating as the tiny revolving circle indicated the loading page and there you saw it. You spent a few more hours listening to their music, being blown away for the nth time of the night. You wanted to talk to him again. Your chest felt heavy. Once again, you resented yourself for not getting his contact information, not even his NAME. You frustratedly burried your face into your pillow, suffocating yourself. You deserved it.

You could text him, well not him, his account which he shares with two other people. What if he lied? What if his friends see? What if you embarrassed him by texting him? "UGH!"you wiggle and struggle around on your bed like a fish out of water. Deciding to forget about it and him entirely, you turned over to sleep it all off.

A week later, you couldn't take it. You already followed the account. You just had to bite the bullet. If he ghosted you or worse, it's fine, you'll never see him again. You took a deep breath, grabbed your phone, pressed the SoundCloud app and looked for the familiar trio with the familiar logo. You only followed 3racha. You didn't think of other people, didn't need to. Their music was phenomenal and almost all you needed. Lately, nothing else compared. You tapped on the messaging app and began typing.

you, 8.52 pm: hey, idk if you remember me but I'm the stranger on the bus. You showed me your music. I didn't get your name. I know there's three of you, I'm talking about the guy with the deep voice, pointy chin with a scar and black hair?

You waited and waited, no reply. Actually it's been only 5 minutes. So you scroll aimlessly through other apps. Your phone dinged, you dropped your phone on your nose in shock and cried out. So music wasn't the only way this man shocked you.

3racha, 9.26 pm: would you believe me if I told you I was waiting for you to text? What took you so long?

You blushed reading that. Really though, why did you hesitate?

3racha, 9.27 pm: text me on this number.

You put the number in your dial pad, saved as cute stranger for the time being and quickly texted him.

you, 9.28 pm: let's try that again. Hi, I'm y/n. Nice to meet you. Properly.

cute stranger, 9.28 pm: hi y/n, nice to meet you too (properly). I'm Changbin. :)

You quickly changed his name to "Binnie🎶" Luckily, he forgot about interrogating you for texting him so late.

you, 9.28 pm: how stupid of me to not ask your name the first time lmao. 🤦‍♀️

Binnie🎶, 9.29 pm: you and me both. Well on the bright side, now we're not strangers anymore.

you, 9.29 pm: you're right. What's up? Did you fix the song?

Binnie🎶, 9.29 pm: yep. Thanks to you. Also I wrote a new song.

you, 9.29 pm: NO WAY DUDE IT'S BEEN ONLY A WEEK. Wait you didn't upload anything on SoundCloud.

Binnie🎶, 9.30 pm: you've been keeping track?

you, 9.30 pm: duh, your music is addictive. Like crack.

Binnie 🎶 , 9.30 pm: wow the pride i feel rn.

you, 9.30 pm: so what's the new song? When will you upload it?

Binnie 🎶 , 9.31 pm: well about that. Not uploading it anytime soon. It's not really a "song" just a bunch of lyrics.

you, 9.31 pm: what?! BUT WHY???? 😭😭😭

Binnie 🎶 , 9.31 pm: if you really wanna listen to it, then show up to my live performance on Friday.

you, 9.31 pm: no way

you, 9.31 pm: Heck YEAH. I'm not missing it for the world.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

At the live performance, you were shocked when you heard that he wrote a rap about how he met a stranger on a bus and a good chunk of it were dedicated to his headphones. It's amazing how an old pair of headphones brought two people close together, even if it was in an unorthodox way but it was music that kept them together.