#no beta we die like wild

[majorproblems77]

Breathe again

tw - Mentions of torture, aftermath of such torture, I bully sky and this is the result

If you'd have asked Warriors a year ago about the sounds he hated to hear it would be the sounds of his people screaming. Their cries haunted his nightmares for longer days than he could count.

Now?

The sound of his brother crying, made that list. The sound of them breaking down into apologies that they had to come back for him.

Today it was Sky. The skyloftian's Hands clawed into his tunic as tears welled and snot dripped from his nose. Rocking him from side to side he kept his breathing slow and steady.

Sky, the infallible. Sky was the one with who everyone could shoulder their burdens. And now Sky Was crying in his arms.

The others were here, nearby. Sounding off gentle sounds of encouragement at the skyloftian. Sounds like finality, finally letting him relax and breathe again.

He'd been taken hostage, tortured by the cultest of Hyrule's world. When they'd found him he was bloodied and bruised. He couldn't speak and was in all words. Dead to the world. The pain in his eyes.

The captain knew that pain.

Which is why he was here. Holding Sky tightly and promising to never let him go. Promising to never let him fall into the darkness underground. So that he could always see his namesake that made the man feel so safe.

The captain was never seen as a hugger by the others. That usually befell their resident skyloftian after all. But right now. Seeing him bundled underneath Twilight's pelt, his own Royal scarf and the sailcloth made him think. Just how vulnerable the man was.

How they all were.

Sky was all of twenty. Twenty. And he'd gone through so much to get to where he was. Brought his people to the surface and changed the course of Hylian history forever.

When he was twenty he was in the middle of a civil war. Changing the course of history... There seemed to be a theme here.

Sky took a shuddering breath as he curled inward. The movement made the captain grip him tighter as he could hear the shuddering cries of the man below him. The babbles of apologies long since faded.

the captain didn't feel the need to speak as he weaved his scarf around the skyloftian again. Settling more against the tree he was leaning against. Tightly holding the skyloftian as he settled into a sleep brought on by an adrenaline crash.

Sky might have been twenty, but right now he reminded the captain of a small child he had found in the depths of the castle ruins. Cold and broken he carried the boy back to camp where Impa had taken him to the castle, where he remains to this day.

As sky's body relaxed as he fell into a slumber, breathing deeply. The captains did too. Trying not to make the skyloftian feel too restricted. His eyes looked up to Time who had settled beside them, and placed a hand into the Skyloftian hair, a gesture they often used to calm the skyloftian down.

They remained like this for the remainder of the night, one by one the rest of the chain had joined them, wind and four draping themselves over the skyloftian while the rest huddled around the sides of them.

At least the skyloftian seemed to be breathing properly again.

[iocity]

ASL ‘Merica AU where Sabo feels guilty about involving his brothers in his conflicts with his biological parents. They are real bona fide assholes, and Sabo does not in any way want to reconnect with them, but they are PERSISTENT. With every yelled word bouncing off the walls of the brothers shared home, Sabo’s guilt grows. He stopped believing when they said they would change years ago, but he can’t seem to shake them off.

Sabo who doesn’t tell his brothers how he feels because they have their own problems, their own struggles that seem so much bigger than old parent problems. He is supposed to be strong. He is sure that in a house of people with “real” issues, his won’t matter.

Sabo who can’t help but get angry when he has to deal with his biological family, but not regular angry. It sticks for the whole day, onto the next, and that same feeling of guilt creeps up the back of his neck. He hates how his brothers seem to walk on eggshells around him when he is in his moods, but he can’t stand to pretend to be in a sunny mood he is not in (his brothers can tell anyway). He snaps because his parents are the knife in his side, and he is in pain.

Sabo who hates crying, because crying means his parents have won the nonexistent but constantly present battle between them. Crying means that they have made him weak again, made him helpless, made him remember what he used to be. Guilt is met with shame, and shame accompanied by sorrow and anger. His own reflection an overwhelming cacophony of everything he hates. His mother’s lips, his father’s eyes; his own genetics betray him. He feels his parents in him, and he braces himself as fear overtakes him; his hands grip the wall as he silences his breaths.

Sabo who holds his breath to exact his control, to break their hold over him. His breath can’t shake if he doesn’t let it out; his eyes can’t cry if his heart is trying to escape his chest. If he is in control he can be cold, calculated; he can give his parents what they deserve. What they gave to him. To him, it’s logic, it’s reason, and it’s strength.

Sabo who can’t help the jolt that runs through him when he feels arms around him, his chest heaving with warm air, the ache within him worsening. He has been pulled out of his control and into the warmth and unpredictability of his brothers’ arms. All at once he is melting, and it shows in the way his chest heaves into a sigh, then a sob, in the way that water flows down his cheeks until he is sure there is a puddle under him, and in the way that he reaches blindly for them through his tears. They are already there.

Sabo whose apologies fall on deaf ears, because they don’t give a damn about his parents (something they now make sure to tell him often), they give a damn about him.

Luffy who can’t help but cry too, because Sabo is not only his older brother, but his heart. Not by blood but by choice which, for him, means so much more. It’s only natural to cry when your heart hurts. He clings to Sabo, hoping to solidify his presence, because he is there. He isn’t a thought or a feeling, he isn’t fleeting. He is permanent. Heart to heart, warm and present. He doesn’t understand; he never cared much about things like his biological family. Despite that, he is shifting to his feet, making Sabo’s favorite snack consuming mind because his words often fail him but his hands rarely do. Food brings people together, right? He hopes Sabo is hungry, so they can eat together.

Ace whose clenched jaw, deep frown, and furrowed brows speak for him. ‘Why didn’t you tell us? Why did you do this alone?’ But he’ll nag later, because first and foremost he is the oldest brother. So for now Ace will hold his little brother while he cries and control the anger bubbling up within him, not only at Sabo’s parents, but at the world. He is unmoving even when Sabo has stilled from his crying, silent when Luffy wriggles out of their grip to grab snacks for them. As still and permanent as rock, letting Sabo lean on him until he finds the strength to walk on his own.

Sabo whose guilt and shame crashes against the corners of his mind, frustration rising because he is full of feelings he doesn’t recognize and therefore can’t control.

Sabo who is spiraling until a warm gas station honeybun is being shoved under his nose by forceful hands, ratty sandals being tucked aside as Luffy sits criss-cross in front of him with a plate of his own, Ace’s plate balancing on Luffy’s straw hat. A hand is on his neck as he rocks back and forth slowly, looking nervous.

“I don’t think it was supposed to be microwaved with the wrapper on y’all.”

“You’re shitting me.”

Sabo who hears Ace cursing about the house being rented and microplastics, and Luffy arguing back despite knowing he is in the wrong.

Sabo who laughs. In disbelief, in amusement, in insanity. He can’t tell anymore, but he feels the waves stilling in his mind, replaced with the sound of his brothers’ quarreling and his own laughter. Because they don’t give a damn about what he perceives to be weakness; he doesn’t need to feel ashamed.

Sabo who knows his life isn’t fixed and who knows he will have to talk to his brothers eventually, but who also loves his brothers and warm gas station honey buns. Sabo who feels at home in this familiar warmth.

“Man, I love you guys.”

Masterlist!

Tags c|:D : @porschethemermaid

[archerlullaby]

There aren’t enough TOTK comes back to the Chain fics out there so I figured I would write one. Hurt/Comfort, some angst, and some self-worth doubts. TOTK Link needs a hug tbh. Also, This is a Zelda slander fic, though I don’t directly hate her she kinda gets on my nerves in totk. MY BOI IS JUST SO TIRED LET HIM SLEEP PLZ.

Weariness and Worth

He was just so damn tired. He tried to be patient. He tried to put on the “Hero Façade”. But his resolve had begun to splinter with each passing moment alongside the princess.

He dragged his feet to the nearest cooking pot as Zelda strode purposefully up the Lookout Landing staircase. As soon as she got her wits about her after falling from the sky, she vehemently insisted that Purah is the first one she needed to see. It had only been a few hours since he had dragged her out of that lake, his body aching from his fight against the literal incarnate of evil, and the first thing she focused on was how she was home. How she needed to talk to Purah. How she needed a change of clothes. How she, who was a dragon for 10,000 years thank you very much, would like a good, hearty, home cooked meal, so Link, could you whip something up while I talk to Purah, please and thank you? He sighed, and all but collapsed at the edge of the fire, eyes starting to close of their own accord. The others in Lookout Landing all but ignored him, the Princess taking up all the attention while she smiled and waved as the individuals around her practically worshiped the ground she walked on.

“You look pretty worn out there son,” the elderly stablemaster chuckled, startling Link out of his stupor. This old man was the only one not rushing to greet the princess, and is instead settled a couple yards away from the cooking pot, his gnarled walking stick leaning against the inside of his knee. Link did his best to give him a smile, but only came up with a strangled-looking grimace. In the very least, he was grateful somebody at least acknowledged him. The stablemaster sighed.

“If only I was younger, maybe I’d have a chance with the young lady. I used to be something of a hero myself back in the day. Now all I got are my horses and these old bones!” He laughed, rapping a knuckle against his knee. “You are one lucky young man!”

Link’s grimace turned into a scowl. Yet again was he fooled into thinking someone cared about him. How naive of him. He stood and turned away from the old man, taking the Purah Pad from his hip. After stoking the fire, he decided on meat and rice balls. However while flicking absentmindedly through the Purah Pad for ingredients, he felt a very deep, sharp ache slam into his ribs. The pain gnawed at him like a wild beast, quickly buckling his knees and knocking the wind out of his lungs as his butt hit the ground. He gingerly felt around his chest, and came to the conclusion that becoming a dragon’s chew toy probably wasn’t the healthiest thing for ribs. He chuckled darkly. At least his shining sense of humor survived. The amusement was short lived, however, and tears pricked the corner of his eyes when he realized he used all his healing potions during the fight against Ganondorf, and that nobody, not even the stablemaster a stride away, cared enough to come to his aid. Everyone was so enthralled with that Princess. He fought the urge to bury his face in his arms and cry because he’s the Hero, the Chosen One, the Sworn Protecter of the Crown. Instead, he gathered himself quietly, stood, clipped the Purah Pad back to his hip, and hobbled out the southern gate without barely a glance towards the gathered crowd.

It had been an hour when he finally stopped walking, or rather, when his legs gave out and he flopped to the grass. The sun was just touching the western edge of the world, dew and darkness creeping into Hyrule Field as crickets began to sing. He knew he should go somewhere safer, somewhere where the wolves and the monsters wouldn’t catch his scent, but he could hardly keep his eyes open, and the smell of the earth and grass was so encompassing that he couldn’t bring himself to care about the danger. So instead, he closed his eyes and peacefully listened to the sounds of the coming night. That is, until his thoughts caught up to him. Coward, they called him. Abandoning duty for some pitiful, self-absorbed notion that he should be recognized, awarded, for accomplishing that for which he was destined to accomplish. These thoughts swirled through his head and screamed in his ears until he thought he would be deafened by the voices themselves.

That is, until the familiar and oh-so-welcome sound of time and space being torn open met his ears. Link blearily stumbled to his feet, and was met with the sight of a portal suspended in air just to his right. It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. He’s Link, he doesn’t get this type of fortune in his life. He felt like he could cry as he tripped over his feet and fell just a step away from the entrance, the burn in his side stealing away his breath. He only paused for a moment as he considered what this meant. He would disappear again, the people of Hyrule clueless as to where he went. Zelda clueless as to where he went. He bit back a bitter smile. She’ll just have to find him this time. Perhaps it was cruel, but he found that he couldn’t bring himself to care. So, on his hands and knees he dragged himself to the very edge and lurched through the swirling colors.

It was so warm, so gentle, so peaceful to just lie floating in the darkness. This didn’t feel like the icy cold waters of the shrine of resurrection, nor was it similar to the dark and damp cave he woke up in on the sky islands. No, this felt like a warm, thick wool blanket wrapped itself around his body, a soft embrace. Perhaps it was the downy feathers of the soft bed in Rito Village. Or maybe, Link mused, this was the water bed at the Seabed Inn in the Zora Domain. Sidon had spoke about a warming technology for the beds Kayden was trying to develop. Whatever it was, Link wanted to stay in it forever. Unfortunately, this peace was cut short.

“Cub? Wild, please look at me.” A familiar voice cut through the fog as he started to come around. His body changed from warmth to and almost refreshingly cool, as if aloe had been spread over a burn. A gentle magic encompassed him, one that was similar to Mipha’s, though less like a bubbling stream and more like that of the sun in the deep woods. He sighed, and snuggled further into the comfort that called to him. “Cub. CUB. Link!” Something tickled his nose, and it quickly pulled him away from soft darkness and into an irritating light. He blinked his eyes open all the way and was met with the welcome sight of a face donning a single black mark upon his forehead.

“Twi?” He muttered, voice raspy from lack of use.

“Oh, Wild, what happened to you?” Twilight asked, voice thick with emotion. Wild opened his mouth to reply before Twilight shook his head. “It doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that you’re okay.”

“Damn right. You fell through that portal and straight into Time’s lap. You’re lucky he wasn’t wearing his armor. You would’ve ended up with a concussion to add to your broken ribs!” Several chuckles came from the group, and a hearty laugh rang from Warriors. Hyrule, with his hands alighted on Wild’s side, looked pleased with his joke. Twilight merely shook his head and brushed his hand through Wild’s bangs. Wild had a thought to bat the hand away, but the worrying felt so good, so needed, that he found himself leaning into the touch, and, as Twilight continued his ministrations, Wild couldn’t help the tears that began to leak from the corner of his eyes for a second time that day. He brushed them away quickly and palmed his eyes.

“Sorry. M’fine,” he said gruffly, “Help me get up please.”

Twilight opened his mouth to protest, but Wild was already trying to shuffle himself out of Time’s lap when large hands, one on his forehead and the other on his shoulder, gently pushed him back down.

“Rest, Wild. You have no need to push yourself now. Your family is here to care for you,” Time’s voice rumbled from his chest, soft but demanding.

“But—”

“No arguing.”

Wild relented, and settled back into Time’s embrace, eyes feeling heavier than he would like to admit. Though despite the welcoming tendrils of sleep that curled around his consciousness, he couldn’t find it within himself to give in, not yet.

“What’s the matter, Cub?” Twilight still knelt next to him and Time while the others had begun to set out their bedrolls. Wild merely shook his head.

“It’s just-” he swallowed, “I’m afraid if I fall asleep, everyone will be gone when I wake up,” he whispered, embarrassment turning his head and closing his eyes so the others couldn’t see his face. “That always happens to me.”

He shouldn’t be saying this. He’s the Hero. The Savior of Hyrule. He doesn’t get to show weakness. Wild doesn’t want to open his eyes and see what surely must be disappointment on Time’s face, or disgust in Twilight’s eyes. Only a gentle warmth along his side breaks him from his thoughts. He looks down hesitantly and is met with the wide eyes of Wind, who has taken residence tucked along Wild’s hip, an arm thrown across his chest. The youngest gave him the biggest smile he could muster.

“It’s okay to be scared. I promise I’ll stay right here until you wake up in the morning. Even if you snore,” Wind said, and snuggled closer into his side. Time shifted, lying down close as Twilight tucks his pelt under Wild’s head.

“We all will,” the eldest reassured. It was only then Wild allowed himself a small smile. The doubts still ate at him, but they were lessening in their ferocity. The tiredness he felt before settled deep in his bones, an exhaustion so deep it slowed his breathing and finally closed his eyes, and finally, finally, he could sleep.

[forlorn-crows]

A possessive Mountain going into rut and deciding to stake his claim on Rain by bending him over the common room sofa and stuff him full of his knot him in front of the others?

i took some liberties with this one since heat/rut/knotting is absolutely not my forte. i read it to some extent, but only under the context that a majority of people headcanon that that's something ghouls just...do, ya know? not something im actively seeking out

BUT i still had an idea for this one so this is what i've got for you, dear anon:

Mountain bends over the purple orchid, dutifully clipping its wilting buds. The humid smell of soil and foliage blankets over him, soothing his aching thoughts.

This season’s heat has him mentally overstimulated more than anything, often retreating to the greenhouse to be alone. He prefers the calming atmosphere to the darkness of his room—he’s less likely to tear it up in the throws of arousal and frustration, anyway.

He's got his hands deep in a pot of soil when he smells it. Petrichor and warm sea salt. It wafts through the air and hits him straight in the nose, making him freeze. Suddenly, his mind is quiet, replaced only with thoughts of Rain. Want. Need. Where?

“Mountain?” Rain calls from the doorway.

The earth ghoul swallows dryly. “Yes, Rain?” He hears footsteps approach and stop a few feet away from him. Reluctantly, Mountain looks up at him from his hunched position.

That was a mistake. Rain looks completely unholy: hair mussed, lips shiny with saliva—someone else’s?—little crimson marks peeking out from the collar of his sweatshirt. Mountain’s on him in an instant, launching himself off his stool and looming over his lithe form, nosing at the spot behind his ear. His smell is icier here, but it’s masked under notes of cinnamon, citrus, and mint.

Mountain has to stop himself from growling, settling for some other low, disgruntled noise instead. “Did you come here to tease me?”

“N-no,” he stutters. Mountain’s pheromones wash over him, heavy and earthy. “Oh,” he breathes, leaning into the earth ghoul slightly.

“Then why are you here, raincloud?” Mountain runs a hand along his jaw, slowly, possessively.

Rain tilts his head towards the touch and closes his eyes. “The boys, we were—” His breath hitches as Mountain’s fingers trail further along his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs under his hand. “Playing, messing around. We missed you. Wanted you to join us.” He bites his lip.

Mountain looks at him, calculating. “Playing, hm?” His voice lowers half an octave, getting husky with need. “You want me to play with you, tadpole? Brave of you to come in here alone.”

“You can s-show me off.” Rain cracks his eyes open, revealing blown pupils. He bares his neck to the earth ghoul. “Mark me—ah—make them jealous.” He realizes he’s babbling, a side-effect of Mountain’s heat radiating over him, but he can’t help it.

“Fuck,” Mountain finally growls. He mouths at the spot where Rain wants him and pulls the water ghoul flush against him. 

“Oh, Mounty,” Rain whines. He stuffs his hands under Mountain’s t-shirt, running his palms over the plane of his stomach. Mountain almost does bite him at the skin-to-skin contact. His arousal is quickly becoming all-consuming, but he pulls away before he really loses it.

“You’re gonna be mine, raincloud,” the earth ghoul promises.

It doesn’t take them long to make it back to the others. Aether and Swiss have Dew a blubbering mess underneath them on the couch, kissing, sucking, and petting everywhere but where he wants it. Mountain pushes Rain to kneel in front of them, slotting in behind him. He presses his hardening length against Rain’s ass, grinding against him.

“You didn’t waste any time,” Swiss smirks.

“Could’ve been you,” he drawls, palming at Rain’s own erection, earning a moan from the water ghoul. “But you sent the princess to get me, so now he’s getting my fucking knot.” Mountain’s filthy when he’s in heat, his usual loving and loyal demeanor replaced with ravishing possessiveness.

Dew whines at that, immediately jealous.

“Told you,” Rains mumbles, dropping his head against Mountain’s collarbone. The earth ghoul drinks him in, laving his tongue over the muscles in Rain’s neck. He stares Dew down, flashing his fangs against the water ghoul’s pulse point.

“If you want it so bad, fire lily, let’s hear you beg for it.”

[rrain-writes]

Link meets the chain and decides to mess with them. Only a little bit though.

Link had been following this suspicious looking group for the past three days. He was almost tempted to jump out of his hiding place and direct them to the nearest stable. This was of course he was sure they weren’t yiga (yes, he’d checked with the good old banana test) and also because they’d been walking around in circles the whole time he’d been following them.

But just because they weren’t yiga, didn’t mean Link could let his guard down. He’d even listed examples of why. (Zelda would be proud of him when he showed her)

WHY THESE ‘TRAVELLERS’ ARE SUSPISHOUS

1. They have weird names

2. One of them has the master sword

…Yeah that was all he had. But still, it was something!

Link nearly danced in celebration when the group finally found the stable.

As they walked up to it, he made a split second decision. Dressed in his most casual clothing (Champion tunic, and the master sword on his back) he sauntered up to the stable.

When the travellers noticed him (more like noticed the master sword) walk past and sit at the fire, they came over, asking to join him. 

Link shrugged in response, but shuffled over to make some room.

“So,” The one with the other master sword on his back. “What’s your name?”

Don’t say Link.

“Link.” He replied. He didn’t have the tri force of wisdom, after all.

The youngest looking one, maybe about 14 wearing very familiar blue tunic, perked up.

“Link? Like the hero?”

Don’t say something stupid.

“What hero?” Damn it.

“The hero that defeated Ganon.” The one with pink hair butted in, rolling his eyes.

Link busied himself with arranging the rocks he’d taken out of his slate before. 

“I ain’t never heard of no Ganon.”

The master sword wielder blinked in confusion. “But, the stable master just told us about it. Calamity and all that.”

“Urban myth.” Link said, waving his hand vaguely.

The guy with the blue scarf scoffed. “We can see the ruins of the castle from here kid. What caused that if it wasn’t Ganon?”

Quick, Link. Think of something to say.

“Cuccos. Destructive beasts.”

“Are cuccos something different around here?” The one with the facial markings asked.

“Look, Link.” One eye said. “We need you to be serious with us here.”

“Am.”

“Are you the hero who defeated Ganon?”

“Nope.”

The little one decided to try his luck. “Then what’s with the master sword on your back?”

“What, this?” Link replied, grabbing it. “This is called a cucco killer 3000. Only thing that can destroy those foul fowl.” He shuddered for emphasis.

“Anyways, I better get going. Nice meeting you. Toodles!”

“Hang on.” The guy with the master sword grabbed his arm as he went to stand. “If you aren’t the hero, do you at least know where we’d be able to find him?”

Link sighed, looking away as he blinks back tears. “Poor lad.” He said. “Passed away.”

The travellers shared a look. “What happened to him?” One asked.

Link looked at them, serious eyes filled with unshed tears. “The cuccos got to him.”

[kiwibirdlafayette]

wherever I go, there you are.

a little syndisparklez freewrite oneshot, takes place in the earlier half of Isles/where I've watched up to and a follows this drawing

enjoy :] Havent written fic in a while, but i needed a change of pace from arting for a little

“I just want you to be happy.”

The waves lapped up against the shore of the lighthouse atop Tom’s island, a soft and steady rhythm alike to the delicate tap of drumsticks against cymbals. Contrary to what they had thought would happen, the god’s arrivals had brought with them an almost uncharacteristic silence about the land- the kind of one that might force people to face truths and emotions that had long been left unaddressed since they had arrived on the island.

Tom looked up to the soft oranges, pinks and blues of the setting sun, running his hand through his dark amber blonde hair. He had burnt it to that color from its typical blue before coming into the past- a practice reminiscent of the way it had been when Dianite was around and would use it as a cruel indication of how it was, perhaps a punishment meant to remind him of a state which he had not been in since he was human.

A state where according to all he had known until recently, he had not been anyone.

Tom bit his lip. “What do you mean by that?"

He turned to the man sitting up on the rock beside the staircase he sat on. Tired and worn dull purple eyes he had gotten lost in more times than he could count, scraggly black hair that always felt soft between his fingertips, wearing a velvet red coat no longer imbued with its blood magic sigils that he loved to run his hands across to feel its power, to pull off and-

Tom stopped himself. It was all too easy sometimes.

Jordan sighed, turning his gaze down to the weathered stone. “I want you to be happy in some way or another, I mean, there’s not much else to it."

Happiness.

The last day they had seen each other before Tom had left back to Astrakheins for them to take a break from each other, Tom had said he wasn’t happy where he was. And Jordan had agreed. And so they left.

After falling through the void, they had, to Tom’s initial surmise, landed back in their first realm. A familiar place, having a nostalgia that both welcomed you with open arms, but exposed scars of battles fought long ago.

Back to the first place he had called home post-revival, back to the land of finding his friendships, back to the world where had left behind the corpse of the god that had saved him in the first place.

To Jordan it was home, but to Tom it was just a cruel reminder of what had been. His heart was his home, he carried that with him. He had tried so long to be the Dianite the realm needed him to be. But he knew it wasn’t where he belonged. It wasn't a place he could settle down for good

And maybe it just wasn’t the right time.

Tom fiddled with the epaulets on his shoulders. “But I am happy.. Now! Like, I get to hang with you and Kyle, and sure my gods not perfect, but-”

Jordan scoffed watching Tom count off things on his fingers. "You and I both know that's not what I’m talking about.”

“It’s not?”

For the first time in this particular conversation, Jordan looked up and stared Tom down dead in the eyes. While the outward expression spoke irritation over him not getting what he was trying to imply, there was a violent yearning behind it, something so familiar of what Jordan had always been like. Possessing a kind of reaching, grasping for any semblance of what he sought since he had come to the island. Yet at the same time, still avoiding closeness the best he could, always in a state of pretending to be absolutely annoyed and perturbed by the zombie’s presence.

And Tom would have believed that they through for good if he hadn’t been able to recognize that, even way before Jordan had come over to his house in the dead of night to confess in a sleep deprived stupor that he had missing Tom all this time, and that he was tired of dancing around what had been, and what he so desperately wants back, but feels like can’t because it isn’t what Tom wants.

Selfish, was the word he had used. Him wanting to be with, to have Tom was selfish of him.

Unfortunately, Tom hadn’t gotten a chance to clarify himself. Maybe now was meant to be his chance.

He watched Jordan continue to fidget with the collar of his shirt, and run his hand around his neck, just like he had the first time Capsize had suggested they had a thing for each other. Nothing like a habit you can’t quit, clearly.

Jordan’s nervousness came through in the strained tone of his voice as he spoke undeniably what it was he was dancing around this whole time. “I want you to be happy.. with me, ok? It’s like I've said before, it’s selfish because I don’t know if you can be.”

“Jordan-” Tom stood, climbing up the side of the rock to put himself right next to Jordan, who swung his legs around as if he was ready to jump off the weathered stones that made up the base of the lighthouse, and run away from an answer he might not like.

Tom wouldn’t let him. He reached out to grab the captain’s hand, who swatted it away.

“You deserve someone who can make you feel unconditionally loved, Tom.” He curled his hand into a loose fist. “Especially after all you’ve.. maybe we've been through and.. I don’t know if I can be that for you anymore."

If Tom hadn’t known any better he’d think Jordan had found someone else and this was his last attempt at making their temporary separation a permanent one. But the desperation in his voice was so strong to Tom it was almost like he was waiting for him to just kiss him again right then and there.

Jordan paused to look at Tom before turning his back to him. “I know there’s so much more out there for you, but I don’t want to accept it. I want to keep fighting for you, to be the light that brings you to a place that makes you happy, safe, and feel home.”

Tom watched as Jordan’s gaze rose past him to take in the sight of the completed lighthouse to the light at the precipice, the part he had owned after Tom had begged him to build it for him.

He had the light, Tom had the house.

Much to Tom’s surprise, when he tried to reach for Jordan, this time he didn’t lean away. He let the zombie rest his hand softly on his shoulder, almost leaning into the touch.

Jordan spoke under his breath, as if he was scared of what he had wanted to admit. “Thing is, I want to try. I so desperately want to try to be that.” His hand floated down from his neck to his other shoulder. “I don’t want to just leave what we had all behind because… fucking shit, you mean more to me than you’ll ever know. And I don’t know if you’ll ever get it.”

“No man, see I don’t think you get it.” Tom took the hand that had come to meet his on Jordan’s shoulder. No matter how many times it had fallen apart or tore at the seams they always seemed to fit perfectly together. Aside from the soft song of the sea breeze, and the mechanical clink of the rotating light of the house coming to life in the fading sun as evening arrived, there was a silence that if the gods had listened closely, they could hear perhaps a reawakened spark, a newfound life in the forces of chaos and balance within their champions that had been long since ignored.

“Y’know if you weren’t always so dramatic, and just given me the chance to yknow, answer you that night I could’ve told you.” Tom met Jordan’s eyes with a soft smile. “There’s nothing else I need to feel loved or whatever-"

He let himself drift closer to Jordan, who for once welcomed the closeness with an openness he hadn’t possessed in a while. “I already am happy with you.”

[cryptid-kratt-kid]

Quick Bluepin drabble!

"Chris! Chris, please stop hiding!"

Martin scoured his dark museum for his frightened brother, amnestic syringe in hand. He'd gotten careless and accidentally lead Chris right to it!

He was wracked with guilt. This was far from the first time this had happened, but that didn't make it any easier. Not that he ever truly had trouble finding Chris, there were only so many hiding places in the old, decrepit warehouse. No, it was hard because Martin was a big brother.

Every time this happened Martin told him that it was only an amnestic, that he wouldn't dream of pinning up his own brother, but Chris would never believe him. He'd always run, he'd always hide, and Martin would always have to drag his limp body back to the tortuga.

He didn't like hearing Chris scream of genuine fear, he didn't like having to hunt after him like a horror movie monster, and he hated having to stare Chris in his terrified eyes and amnestisize his shaking body.

Martin was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of rustling behind some crates. He froze, and listened for a few moments, that was undeniably breathing. He'd found Chris.

He slowly crept closer, before moveing the largest crate and revealing his little brother. Chris simply stared up at him with the same look of terror that Martin had seen time and time again. There he was, on the ground, backed against a wall. He was on the verge of tears, his body was shaking, and he was breathing heavily.

"P-please... Don't kill me..."

Martin's heart just about shattered.

He didn't know what to say. He knew Chris wouldn't believe anything he said like this... But he couldn't just let Chris think that his big bro wanted him dead.

He crouched down so he was face to face with his little brother, then lunged forward and hugged him.

Chris yelped at the sudden movement and defensively shut his eyes and raised his hands. But, as he realized that he was being embraced, he seemed shocked that he was still alive.

"I know you'll never understand what I do, and I know you probably hate me right now, but please know that I would never kill you.

Martin went ahead and jabbed Chris with the syringe while he was still stunned. Chris cried out in pain and his tears began to flow. The amnestic worked quick, and whithin seconds Chris was struggling to keep his eyes open.

"You're my little brother, and I love you so much Chris. Please... Never forget that."

With those final words, Chris passed out. Despite his triumph, Martin felt nothing like a winner. He continued to hold his brother. He'd made up his mind.

"I'll make sure you never find this place ever again. You'll never understand this form of art, and my heart can't handle your tears. I'll relocate if I have to. I'm sorry I put you through this, little bro."

[ohpainstar]

20|10|2024

marble

i try to chisel away at you to bring him out of your ribcage as if you were a rough draft

my attempts to carve his closed eyes over your irises never turn out

i cry looking at the piece of art you are, a blessing sculpted out of stone and sea storms

for i cannot love and admire you like you deserve, i only think of how to break off the way you touch me and speak of the way you can live uncovered around my shape

all i can see is a loud piece of marble i can mutilate to a reminiscence of my dearest sorrow

[natsu-kage]

Um, wow. This is really striking a cord with you all. Guess I can expand on this more. Hope you all like it just as much.

@samgirl98, @my-perfect-storybook-love, @fox-sama97, @amercurio, @satanicrutialspecialist, @defertbogwitch, @justwannabecat, @apointlessbox, @britcision, @grisicat, @shorterthanadverage, @princessdaisysolosyourfaves, @lazy-bouqet, @thefearfullone, @mimilikey, @thegatorsgoose, @kyrianclawraith 

Danny sat up straighter in the chair provided to him. He smiled nervously at the three other people who sat across from him over the table currently laden with several gadgets. Each of the gadgets were reverse engineered versions of the local heroes’ weapons. He had already clarified he had used only whole or particle weapons left around the town, not attached to active or possible crime scenes.

“So Mr. Nightingale, this is quite impressive. Especially for someone of your young age. How did you figure out how to not only replicate but modify some of them as well?” the lead interviewer, an older black gentleman and Co-Ceo by the name of Mr Lucius Fox, asked as he held up one of the anti-gas bombs. 

With a blush and rubbing the back of his head, Danny started with a laugh. “Ha, well you see, my parents are really inventive. I grew up in a home with all types of inventions laying around. My dad was always tinkering with something. Our house was probably the most well protected house on the block. The issue was that sometimes they didn’t work like expected. I’ve torn apart more energy guns than just about anyone else in my Masters classes at Gotham University.”

The young man to Mr. Fox’s left sat up from where he had sunk into his seat during Danny’s presentation. Mr. Tim Drake, Co-CEO of the company, leaned forward on to the table. “Energy weapons? Do you mean to say you also have knowledge of ray-guns as well?”

“Yes, I didn’t submit anything to show off my experience with ray-weapons. I wanted to stick with my theme of the local heroes. I did utilize some of the things I learned from my parents' ray-weapons in the construction of the tracker bugs.” holding up a at best 10 mm diameter domed tracker, Danny winked at Tim. “But, I’m not sharing anything about that until I’ve signed papers.”

The third interviewer, a stout woman from HR by the name of Ms. Heather Robinson, huffed a small laugh, “Reasonable, it sounds like you got started really young. Did you get to see how your parents troubleshoot those issues you mentioned they ran into with their inventions? That would be quite an education to be walked through that.”

“Yes, but sometimes they would get hyper focused on how they thought things should work. That’s when I would step in and take a look over things. The most common thing I ran into was wiring issues. My dad didn’t wire in any common sense way. So I guess you could say I learned some of the bad habits to avoid. The home security system was a nightmare though, I had to fiddle with it some much since it would go off on a hair trigger. I did get really great reflexes out of it. Lots of burns too.”

The eyes of the interviewer widen at that comment before sharing a quick series of looks. Mr. Robinson finally set her mouth in a tight line and nodded to the other.

She turned back to Danny and lifted her tablet to look up something. “It says here you come from Amity Park, IL. Do you know why your parents were building such things? We are interested due to the possibility of the alternative energy source you’ve mentioned. Patent concerns you understand.”

“As I remember it, it was for personal sale. They hold many patents, but not on the energy source.” Danny lifted his hands in a placating gesture.

Mr. Drake put his phone down on the table and raised his hands to steep his hands in front of himself. “Mr. Nightingale, I want you to understand that we are very interested in you for this position. I am a bit concerned though. Given some of what you’ve told us about your parents, I have questions. It will not affect you getting hired, but we will want to make sure that the security to keep you and your possible fellow co-workers safe. Please answer as honestly as you can, and no judgment. Are your parents villains? Or work for villains?”

Taken a bit back Danny began, “N-”as he went to answer he paused and really thought about it. Everything they wanted to do to ghost since as long as he could remember, the fact he’d moved out to live with Jazz when she left for college, or the fact that they didn’t even try to turn off the portal after he’d had his accident turning it on.

In a small voice Danny replied, “maybe?”

Short DPXDC Prompts #631

Danny Fenton has a Mechanical Engineering degree. Usually Wayne Enterprises prefers some form of résumé or Portfolio of their potential employees skills.

They didn’t expect Danny to pull out perfect replicas of Bat equipment and explain how he reverse engineered them step by step like it was nothing.

[sinfulspencer]

Once upon a dream

Prompt: It’s difficult to face a coworker you just had a wet dream about…

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: light dom/sub dynamic, SoftDom!Spencer, breath play, mating press, fingerfucking, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie

Words: 3.3k

A.N.: Enjoy, my sweet filthy friends. And a big thank you to @ameliemaaaee for beta-reading this. 

MY MASTERLIST. MY GUIDELINES. SEND A REQUEST. MY TAGLIST.

“I’m so happy that we’re together again.”

Spencer’s arms caged me against his body as his lips captured mine in a breathtaking kiss, full of longing and desire. The familiar sensation of being home settled in my belly and I basked in it, giggling against Spencer’s mouth. I had missed him so much - I hated when I had to stay behind for a case, but it was for my own well-being.

“We don’t need to talk about the case.”

Spencer agreed with a quick nod. “I’m here for something else.”

His hands quickly found the edge of my long shirt and removed it, leaving me bare in front of him. Spencer quickly kissed me again and I wrapped my arms around his neck, leading him to my bedroom.

I couldn’t care less about talking that night.

As we walked to my bedroom, my feet were colder than usual against the hard flood - definitely an unusual sign, but I didn’t pay too much attention to it. All I could focus on were the skilled hands of the man pressed against me that slid my panties down my thighs, undressing me completely. 

His hungry eyes roamed all over my body and I gasped when Spencer pushed me onto the bed. His attitude was completely different from the one he usually had in the office, but again, we were not at work at that moment.

“A sight to die for.” 

I scoffed, propping myself up on the pillows. “Oh, shut up.”

Spencer crawled on top of me, still completely dressed, and nipped at my bottom lip while both his hands dipped on each side of my head. He smelled like vanilla, a different scent than usual - weird, but again, I couldn’t care less about it.

“We have all night.”

“To sleep?” I asked.

Spencer hummed, running his right hand across my bare chest. “Also that.”

“We have work in the morning.” - I responded - “We have to rest.”

“Yeah, whatever. Later.”

Again, it was a weird thing to say for Spencer. I didn’t think too much of it, enjoying the way his lips devoured mine in a kiss. All I could think about was the way his toned body, still completely dressed, was towering on top of mine. He kissed me hard, reminding myself that he could easily control me. 

The desire I felt for him was overwhelming: it made my hands itch, my thighs tremble, my mind going completely empty. There was nothing else in the world I needed more than Spencer at that moment. I needed to feel his weight on my body, his lips on my neck, his hands on my thighs, his cock inside of me and his semen drip between my thighs at the very end. 

I just needed him to consume me, to make me nothing but his whore.

Spencer pulled away from me and he ran his fingers through his hair, staring down at me. I was pretty sure that I looked wild: my hair was already a mess, my cheeks were burning hot and I was naked. Spencer instead looked beautiful: his hair a mess like mine, his jaw tensed, his eyes with lust flashing behind them.

“Look at you… so pretty.”

I whined, grabbing Spencer’s hand and bringing it to my chest. “Thank you, but I don’t need compliments right now.”

“And what else do you need? Do tell.” - he responded, the gleam in his eyes making me whine - “Oh, don’t be embarrassed. You can tell me anything.”

Shaking my head, I pushed his hand down to reach my breast. Spencer palmed it lightly, still staring at me and waiting for an answer. Despite the obvious aching between my thighs and my desire for him, I was not exactly able to explain to him all the things I had wished he’d do to me. My mind was blank because of him. 

“Your cock.”

It was the only thing that I could come up with and the answer seemed to have pleased Spencer as he laid on top of me again. He had removed his shirt and his belt, leaving everything on the floor, but I was still bothered by his trousers. I needed to see every inch of his body. 

Spencer nipped at my bottom lip, then moved down. His tongue caressed the skin of my throat, travelling down to reach the curve between my breasts.

“Ah, straight to the point.” - Spencer whispered - “I’ll give it to you, my sweet girl.”

Sweet girl. He never called me like that, but I enjoyed the way it rolled off his tongue. 

His tongue moved across my breasts as Spencer’s eyes focused on my face the whole time. I had never felt this good before, pulling on his curls and moaning his name when his tongue flitted over my right nipple. Spencer was gone the moment he saw my boobs.

His left hand groped my other breast, leaving red marks all across my skin. I arched my back in response to his ministrations, whining with my eyes closed. Spencer was so good to me, but the strong vanilla scent was overwhelming. He wasn’t a fan of vanilla, so why did he smell like that?

I forced myself not to think about it, but it was hard.

Spencer closed his mouth around my right nipple and my thoughts disappeared from my head, leaving me crying out a chorus of ‘yes’. He silenced me with a bruising kiss, rolling his hips to grind against mine.

“Shh, no need to be so loud. Wouldn’t want to wake up all the neighbours.”

I moaned on his lips, nodding my head in agreement. In truth, I couldn’t care less about my neighbours at that moment: I just needed Spencer to own me, to make me feel good with any part of his body - whichever he preferred. 

Spencer’s body was flushed to mine and I felt his hard cock against my inner thigh. I gasped and clung to his shoulders, following the rhythm of his hips to feel more and more of him. With his right hand, he yanked my panties down my thighs and threw them somewhere behind him.

“Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.”

I obeyed with no hesitation, opening my legs right in front of him. His eyes followed me down where I needed him to be and he immediately cupped my cunt with the palm of his hand, his middle finger brushing through my folds. 

“So wet I could just slip my cock inside of you.”

I bit my bottom lip, focusing my eyes on his face the whole time. The lustful desire burning behind his eyes made my knees tremble. I swore I saw the shadow of a smirk appear on his lips: one of those dark, wicked smirks that turned me on more than anything in the world.

Spencer lowered his head to your chest and nipped at the soft skin right below my nipple, making me shiver. How could he be so addicting? How could he just bring me to the edge of pleasure with a simple bite?

“Or do you want my fingers first, sweet girl?” Spencer asked

I sighed, glancing at his right hand travelling from my throat down to my hip. His fingers are caressing me gently, sending shivers down my spine, and I looked up at him. I wanted whatever he was willing to give me - I truly did not care at all. I just wanted him to find his pleasure within me.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I responded

Spencer’s lips curled into a smile. “First thought, best thought.”

He slowly trailed his index finger across my wet folds before pushing it inside of me, slipping it to the knuckle. A quiet gasp fell from my lips and I found myself closing my eyes, relaxing. Spencer used his hand to cup my cunt and pressed his palm against it, massaging my clit with his movements. 

God, he was so fucking skilled and I had no idea. Was he truly like that or was it just another wet dream I was having?

The answer did not matter. The pleasure did.

“Look at me.” - Spencer warned me - “Keep your eyes open, sweet girl.”

I struggled to obey him, but I did. I opened my eyes and stared at him with my mouth wide open, giving in to the pleasure he brought me. Spencer slipped another finger inside of me and I moaned again, bracing myself to his taut body with both my hands. 

My fingers dug into his forearm and Spencer whimpered in pain. I didn’t mean to scratch him, I didn't mean to hurt him but in that moment I was so caught up in my own pleasure, in my own desire for the man above me that I could not care any less. Spencer was able to make me forget my neighbours, my inexperience and everything that made me insecure.

And when I tried to speak, the pleasure crashed through me. I felt like all the air had been sucked out of my body and the only sound I could hear was the echo of my own pathetic cries as I reached my peak. Spencer allowed me to ride the waves of my orgasm with his mouth peppering kisses all over me and his fingers pumping rapidly, and yet… All I could think about was the smug smirk on his lips.

God, did it feel good to make him happy.

“That’s it. You did so well, my sweet girl. So proud of you.”

Spencer slowly removed his fingers from my cunt and brought them up to his mouth, tasting me. His eyes were still on my face, but mine were down to his body - where his cock was standing, hard and aching. 

The sight was so erotic it brought me to pull him closer to my body by closing my thighs around his waist. I couldn’t wait any longer. I cradled his face in the palm of my hands and I kissed him hard: I tasted myself on his lips and the fire burned even brighter inside of me. Spencer did not hesitate to grab his cock and push it right inside of me, surprising me. I thought that he’d wait a moment, that he’d enjoy my mouth on his but apparently he was just as desperate as I was. 

The delicious stretch of my body to adjust to his made me whine against his lips, but I never stopped kissing him. Everything that I felt seemed heightened, as if it wasn’t even real - I could not believe it was real.

“Oh, fuck. I did not know you felt this good around my cock.” Spencer whispered

I felt the pool of heat spread between my thighs as I clung to his body, whining and panting his name over and over like a sacrilegious prayer. Everything felt too good all at once and I did not have the time to register that pleasure because Spencer pulled out of me. The loss made me gasp.

“Fuck! No, no. Please.”

I could feel his eyes burning into my skin. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

Spencer somehow got even closer to me: his knees pressed to my thighs as his cock pushed inside of me again, finally filling me up to the brim. The pleasure quickly returned to pinch at my belly and I felt overwhelmed.

The way Spencer looked, the desperate sounds he made, the beads of sweat across his forehead, the strength of his arms, the violent grip his fingers had on my thighs… There wasn’t a single detail of Spencer’s skills and beauty that did not go overlooked. God, he was fucking ethereal and all mine for the night.

Spencer leaned forward, his lips brushing over my right earlobe. “You take me so well. I might keep you around forever.”

His hands caressed my shins and then Spencer forced my legs upon his shoulders. Surprise was written all over my face, but so were pleasure and a delicious hint of pain that made everything even better. I was caged between his body and the soft mattress underneath me: a position that I did not want to escape from.

Spencer was so deep inside of me that I felt him everywhere. I couldn’t even describe the intensity of the pleasure that spread through every inch of my body: it was intoxicating and I never wanted the moment to end. 

He could keep me like that for as long as he pleased.

His eyes never leave my face. Spencer wanted to see me break down because of him, because of the pleasure that only he could bring to me. And I let him, allowing his fingers to dig into my skin to the point I felt it break. 

I rested my hands behind his neck, gripping his curls as I let him take all of the pleasure that he could from my body. Thrust after thrust, I felt the tension slowly come to the tipping point.

“Spencer, please. Please, please.”

All we could hear in my bedroom was the pathetic chant of his name falling from my lips and the snapping thrusts that he gave to me. My fingers scratched his neck and I knew that it must’ve hurt him, but I was glad he didn’t say anything. Maybe he was too focused on fucking me to care about the drops of blood running down of his back.

“Are you going to come for me, sweet girl? Clench your cunt around my cock?”

His dirty words weren’t helping me. The pleasure was almost too much for me to bear and so was the tension that finally exploded. My orgasm rolled in waves through my body, making me arch my back as I whispered his name. 

Over and over, again, Spencer kissed me as he nursed the second orgasm out of my body with that smug smirk over his lips. He was well aware of the power that he had over me and somehow, he took advantage of it. And, God, did it feel so fucking good to be in his skilled hands.

The pleasure never seemed to end. 

I was still there in that delicious limbo that made my thighs tremble, but Spencer’s thrusts became sloppy and I could feel him get close to the edge as well. He was whimpering, whispering my name against my lips and his hands were trembling.

“Can’t.. I need.. Inside of you.”

I mindlessly nodded my head. “Yes. Inside. Please.”

Spencer came inside of me hard, his fingers gripping my thighs so hard that the pain cut through the intense pleasure I was experiencing. His body pressed down against mine, forcing me to take every drop of his essence inside of me like the good girl I was for him.

My thighs were still closed around his waist, hoping that he could not pull away and he did not. He didn’t want to, he wanted to give me everything that he could. And he did.

Spencer kissed me again, but it was a messy and sloppy kiss. My body was so exhausted and aching, but somehow my brain was begging for more. I knew it was the beginning of the end, that Spencer was going to leave soon but I didn’t want him to. 

I needed more. 

Spencer pulled out of my aching body and watched the mess pool down between my thighs, staining the bedsheets underneath me. His lips were still curved into that stupid, smug smirk and I found myself falling for it even harder. How could he be so fucking gorgeous even after fucking me so hard to the point I forgot my own name?

“So pretty. You did so well for me, sweet girl.”

His praise suddenly soothed the aches in my thighs. “For you, always.”

Spencer reached out his hand between my thighs and his index collected some of the liquid spilling out from me, a mix of our orgasms. He did not waste any time and he cleaned up his digit.

“Sweet.”

I shook my head, covering my face with both hands. “God, Spencer…”

“Stop acting as if you don’t like this dirty side of me.” - he teased me, leaving a tentative kiss on my ankle - “I know you love it.”

I didn’t respond to him.

“Now sleep, sweet girl. I’ll wake you up in the morning.”

The silence took over the room as Spencer cleaned me up with his fingers and a warm washcloth, a quick reminder that he was still a gentleman. He might’ve fucked me like a whore in the middle of the night, but he was going to treat me like a princess in the morning. 

Or so I thought. 

I must’ve fallen asleep in the blink of an eye because when I woke up, the curtains inside my bedroom were slightly opened and a single ray of sun filtered through. It was morning, very early morning. 

However, everything happened so quickly.

I found myself nestled beneath my warm blanket, completely dressed, and the low sound of music coming from my phone. Confused, I pushed down my own blanket and looked around the room.

Spencer was not there like he promised me he’d be.

What the fuck?

Even more confused than before, I sat up on my bed and looked down. I was still wearing my pyjamas and my underwear; none of the items were broken or ruined by Spencer’s eager fingers to have me. There were no bruises on my thighs, nothing on my neck or my chest either.

What the fuck has happened?

My head hurt as I got up from my bed, trying to understand what had happened the night before. I couldn’t recall Spencer ringing the bell of my apartment, but I remembered vividly the way he pressed me down onto the bed and fucked into me like a mad man.

It couldn’t have just been a dream. Could it?

Sighing, I took my time in the shower. The memories in my mind were simply a dream; a manifestation of the desire I felt for Spencer and that I was yet to confront. But how could I prove that? I couldn’t just call Spencer and ask him about the previous night. I didn’t want him to think I was weird.

And then, my heart dropped. How in the world was I going to face him at work?

However, I needed to. It wasn’t professional to call my boss and ask them to give me a day off just because I had a wet dream about a colleague. So, I put on my best smile and got ready for the day.

As I went up in the elevator, I kept checking my neck for bruises or bite marks. Spencer bit me and grabbed my flesh hard, violently, possessively. It was impossible that my skin wasn’t hurt or didn’t have some kind of mark. However, there was nothing. As if nothing happened the previous night. Maybe it was all a fucking dream. 

A good dream, at least. 

I just needed to get over it. 

It wasn’t the first time that I had a wet dream, but it certainly was the first time that I remembered it so vividly and left me questioning my reality. Also, it was the first wet dream about a colleague which made it even weirder. 

“Good morning everyone!”

Spencer’s familiar voice almost made me collapse down on my knees. I saw him walking inside the office with that usual adorable smile on his face and a familiar pink box in his hands. He brought everyone breakfast. It wasn’t unusual for him, but that smile… and the look on his face made me think that something might’ve happened to him. 

He was unusually chirpy. And most importantly, he wasn’t drinking coffee. 

“Hi Spencer.” I managed to say

Spencer walked past me. His smile turned into a smirk. 

“Good morning, sweet girl.”

Oh, fuck.

Remember that if you asked to be on my taglist, you can easily help me gain visibility with a like, a comment or a simple reblog. If you don’t, you’re asking me to include you while getting nothing in return. If you want to be removed from the taglist, just dm me. Taglist: @reidselle @alelaeljfj @blvebanisters @Koukatsuki @donttrustlove @moesdraft @r-3dlips @alicentswife @singinghamtaro-blog @Florebore @Topguncultleader @frutilooplupin @mags11 @myoui-me @iluvreid @slaygirl466 @Kikista @icarusgold @pleasantwitchgarden @ohdearlordspencerreid @cherrqblssms @lover-of-books-and-tea @elizabethmidnight2017 @spencerssoup @emmy-reid2627 @winkev1 @benji-screem

[majorproblems77]

Taken by nightmares

TW - nightmares, Cia being creepy, warriors gets bullied by his own brain 101, warriors get his soul stolen (in the dream F), Sky gets a little present, but its not pleasant, blood

Running running running

He was running out of time

Time ticked forward. The flames rose higher. The pain in his soul turned sickly.

"LINK!"

Turning around he found a monstrous beast.

Ganondorf.

The glow of the stolen fragments of the triforce shone from his head as the beast stomped forward. But he felt frozen in place.

Impa lay still on the ground nearby. He was too late to save her.

He raised the master sword in front of him, her glow reflecting in the beast's eyes. A final light in the darkness that was consuming the world around them as it fell away in pieces. The screams of his fellow soldiers echoed through the abyss as the wind picked up into a torrent of pain and destruction.

"You have failed."

A sickening voice echoed from behind him. Female....

Cia...

Unable to move he found hands tracing up his arms as nails dug into his flesh. slow steady footsteps filled his ears as she came into view. Her eyes glowed crimson as she tilted her head and smiled.

"You caused this pain." she smiled. Plaicing a hand to his chin as she drew herself into his face. He could feel the blood rushing to his ears. "You should have given yourself to me. It would have made this so much easier..."

He couldn't speak. He couldn't get away.

Trapped.

Alone.

"My chosen one, my perfect soul. Give yourself to me."

He struggled, he cried, but no noise came out.

Let me go! Let me go!

"Your gods can't hear you now..." She giggled, as she took a step back from him, "By my guiding hand, you are mine to the end!" Turning to him she raised her staff, a dark red mist emanating from its gemstone. Stretching across from her and ensnaring him in its grip.

Gold light begain to stretch across his body, "I will manipulate you into my image. And together my hero we shall rule this world."

Nonononononononononono

Let him go!

"..nk"

He could feel his very essence being drawn from him as the darkness began to seep into his bones.

"....ink..."

Just another sacrifice for her war.

Just another one converted to her perfected image...

"LINK!"

Bolting upright the first thing he did was grab the thing in front of him. Turning it around as a scream of pain left it. Green and red filled his vision as gold joined it.

"Link it's okay!"

"NO! NO I WONT BE A PUPPET! I WON'T BE PART OF YOUR PERFECT IMAGE!" He gripped tighter. forcing the object into the green fabric. Another sound reached his ears. Another yell. More pain more suffering.

"Sky can you get free?"

Sky?

"No."

Sky? Sky... Sky...

The next thing he registered was a knife in his hands. A blade pressed against skin. Panicked voices.

"Step back. You're scaring him." A calm voice, unwavering and unafraid.

Who were they ? They wanted to kill him. They were going to kill him or take him to Cia or or or...

"Link. It's okay. The threat has passed." He pushed the steel against the man's neck. "Put the knife down. No one is going to hurt you."

Dusty blond hair filled his vision. As he registered the wrist in his hand roll slightly.

"Who do you work for?" His voice was low, and the knife pressed tightly against his neck. "You have five seconds."

"I work for Hylia. My name is Link. Like yours. I'm a hero from an age before yours." The man spoke plainly and slowly.

Other Links? Other Links...

the chain...

He moved the knife away slowly but The man did not relax. "Put the knife down, captain. It's okay..."

"Its okay... ITs okay.... Its okay..." Slowly repeating it to himself he moved the blade ever so slowly away from his neck. Watching for sudden movements.

The shift of grass from a boot...

On instinct, he turned the blade and stabbed quickly. Finding his blade stopped short of the man's neck by his own arm. Which was now dripping crimson red blood.

Pushing the man to the ground he jumped on top of him, removing the blade from his arm and trying to space it into the neck where it would be safest.

If they can't talk they can't tell. If they can't tell they can't find you.

The man below him pushed away at his arms, pain ghosted his features as he found leverage and twisted his body sending him to the ground. The man above him pinned him down, his arms placed above his head as he felt something heavy collapse across his legs.

"Warriors! It's me! Sky!" The piercing blue eyes looked down at him.

Sky... Sky....

Sky!

He let out a gasp before looking towards the skyloftian again. "Sky?"

"Yep. Thats me. You back?"

Everything came rushing back to him. He'd attacked Sky. He'd almost killed him.

Dear hylia....

"Sky?"

"You had a bad dream, that knocked your senses for a bit." The skyloftian smiled. and offered him a hand.

He offered him a hand?!

His eyes fixed to the skyloftians bracer where blood pooled around some damage. He didn't say anymore. Turning away. "I'm sorry..."

He felt a pat on his shoulder. "I'm okay." You could hear the grimace in his voice. Trying to hide the pain. "Get some rest, we can talk in the morning."

Why would he want to talk to him in the morning?

"I almost killed you!" He spoke to the air. His voice filled with shock as a hand raised to his lips.

"You were taken by a nightmare. That is not your doing." Sky's voice was unwavering and calm.

How could he be so calm at a time like this?

"I...." He tried again.

"No. Get some rest. We will talk in the morning."

Curling up on his side he spoke no more, but he would not sleep either. The threat of nightmares returning too close for comfort.

[foone]

I want a human zoology textbook.

Zoology, as in the study of animals. Like, a study of how humans work, done by an author that is not human.

I specifically want this for a couple reasons:

1. Descriptive, not prescriptive: don't tell me what the author thinks humans should do or how they should be. Tell me what they do. Observationally!

2. No bias towards "nature". I don't particularly care what the author is imagining humans are like in some "garden of eden" unfallen state. I want it to reference how humans ARE.

3. No morality applied to this! What do humans DO, not what you think they should do, or how they should be. And most importantly, no self-censorship in order to avoid offending some of the humans that disagree with ways people live.

And the reason I want this is because of how biology textbooks/wiki pages get written, where even if they try to be progressive they're still written from this weird perspective where they're explaining based on old ideas and the progressive stuff gets a footnote.

Like it'll be "humans have two genders, male and female. This is determined from their chromosomes, XY for male and xx for female."

And then you scroll past two pages for men and another two pages for women, and then it has one subsection that covers non-binary people and intersex people. And it's like: well then integrate that into your main statement!

It's like the author's worldview is still "there's two genders and everyone is born as one" but they've been forced to accept there are some weird exceptions but the core worldview is unchanged. And it's understandable! Wrong, but understandable: the grew up in a world that is quite strong on the "there are only two genders" ideology and doesn't like to remember that intersex people exist.

But like, imagine if you tried to do this as a zoologist. You're like "hey, all bees are female!" and then someone points out the rare male drones and they're like "oh okay I'll update my zoology textbook."

And now it reads:

All bees are female. Most are workers, and one is the queen.

(a couple sections go pass)

Drones: recent science has discovered that some bees are born male. These rare exceptions live short lives where they fertilize a queen and then die.

And it's like, no? Drones are very important to how a hive lives and they can't survive without them?

And we're constantly doing the same thing to humans and it's just bad science. Like, sure, maybe you could have the theory that "humans come in two genders: male and female" but as soon as you see one non-binary person, you have to discard that theory: it has been proven false! It's like not believing in other galaxies after Henrietta Swan Leavitt figured out how Cepheid Variables worked.

Add to that the "nature" thing. Like, you can make a sort of argument about nature vs artificial settings for a lot of species: the whole alpha/beta wolf thing came about because it turns out wolves act differently in captivity compared to the wild, so it makes sense to study how the vast majority of wolves live, not a small group you stuffed into a small area with unusual conditions. It's like saying the lifespan of goldfish is under 5 minutes, based on your study of them in this dry box you put them in.

But humans are different: we are tool-users who build new environments for ourselves. And while you can talk about how humans living in different environments act differently, it doesn't make a lot of sense to call one of them "artificial". All of them are made by us, and humans always do this. This means all environments are natural (because building environments for ourselves is what we naturally do) and all environments are artificial: we always alter our environments to better suit us! That's one of the things we naturally do!

And as for morality, it's about not ignoring things humans do regularly because you think it's weird or you think they shouldn't.

Like that tweet where someone pointed out that lots of species can change gender. Clown fish are a big one, some frogs, a couple birds, some lizards, and humans.

And people often have an immediate knee-jerk reaction of "that doesn't count!" for the last entity in that list. Why? Because we do it (usually) with clothes and makeup and medication, instead of just "naturally"? Bullshit. We're naturally TOOL USERS. Of course we use tools to change gender. We use tools to do EVERYTHING. That's natural for us.

So yeah. I think it'd be refreshing and enlightening to have a zoology textbook written about humans with this detached non-human perspective. An unbiased description of what humans are and do, rather than one irrevocably tinged with ideas of what humans should be and should do.

Basically I want to load up Vulcan Wikipedia and check the "Humans" article.

[dinogoofymutated]

NSFW! Gambit/Fem!AFAB!reader SECOND FIC OF HALLOWEEN CELEBRATION LEHHHGOOO!!! I really hope you guys like this one, as I had a lot of fun writing it! Sorry if the smut at the end is a little barebones, I was running out of steam lol. Here's your meal my hellions!

A bat flies through your window one night, and although you're dreadfully afraid of rabies and scared to touch the little thing, it's in really bad shape and you can't stand by and just let it die. You spend the next few days nursing the little guy back to health, when one day he up and disappears. The next night you go out with your friends, and feel like you keep seeing a familiar pair of eyes in the crowd.

TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Smut, Mirror sex, bitchy neighbors, alcohol consumption, semi-public sex. vampire stuff, only half of this has been beta-read. I'll add more if I think of any.

    The bat hadn’t struggled once when you scooped it up into a spare shoebox. It didn’t scramble away, or even flinch, really. It hadn’t made a single sound or squeak, either. All it did was look up at you with strange, tired eyes. Black scelera, red iris, black pupils- paired with an exhausted haze. He was cut up, battered, and beaten. If it weren’t for how compliant it was, you might have thought the thing was feral. Which didn’t exactly help your shaking hands or constant flinching as you used the lid to urge it into the cardboard. But your fear be damned, you couldn’t just leave the little guy on the doorsteps of your apartment- the thought of the bat being crushed by clumsy feet, or poked and prodded by the little hellions that were the children who lived here was more than enough to give you the push you needed.

    Besides, it was almost… cute, for something you thought was so scary. A little vampire bat with those strange eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you went. He never failed to perk up every time you came home from work. Despite the many struggles and attempts you had trying to find something he could eat, he never seemed to hold it against you. Happy to see you when you took the lid off the shoebox to check in on him, and not too upset with you when you inevitably had to put it back on.

    Well, before he escaped, that is. 

    You knew you were going to have to let him go at some point. You were just trying to do the right thing and reach out to a wildlife rescue, or something. Hoping that they’d do something more to help him before he was set back off into the wild. But one day you came home and he was just, well, gone. The lid of the shoebox had been tossed aside, the box itself a little squished and damaged, the bat nowhere to be found. You searched your apartment for absolute ages, unable to find any trace of his existence or escape aside from a window you were sure you had locked before you left for work that afternoon.

    You sigh as you look out the window of the Uber, thoughts drawn back to the bat as you pass billboards and cornfields, hoping he had escaped the city and found himself somewhere a bit safer. Ashley and Sophie, your neighbors from across the hall, are giggling about something in the seats next to you. The chatty girls are more like acquaintances than they are your friends, but on the surface, they seem sweet. When they invited you out tonight you had been surprised, if a little hesitant. You had wrestled with your anxiety every step of the way, but once you were strapped into the sexiest costume you could find and buckled into the almost-too-small backseat of the Uber, you had started to feel a little excited- despite the fact that you stood out like a sore thumb, with the girls having chosen matching costumes at the last minute and left you out of the loop. 

    “I think we should hit the corn maze first,” Ashley says confidently from the seat next to you. It’s enough to finally clue you back into their current conversation, debating on where the night should start once you get to the Halloween festival. -It’s an “adult only” event, with more than its fair share of alcohol and more than a few scare actors who linger around to give everyone a fright- and there’s a lot to do. It’s almost like the fair, just, you know, spooky. 

    “What? No! I’m telling you, it’s not a good enough photo-op until the moon comes out. We need to do it last!” Sophie sounds adamant, and you wonder how many times they've actually had this conversation leading up to tonight. You try not to snicker as Ashley rolls her eyes, Sophie pouting across the way. They bicker a bit more before Ashley turns to you, smiling slyly. There’s an unnerving way about the way she’s looking at you, something ticking in the back of your brain that you just can’t shake. 

    “What do you think?” She asks you, Sophie leaning over to stare at you directly, Puppy eyes full-throttle as she pouts. You don’t really want to be caught between the spat of theirs, so you take a moment to think, before shrugging with your answer. 

    “I think we should start with drinks.” You say after a moment, and both girls gasp in excitement. 

    “Girlie you are so smart!! I knew we invited you for a reason!” Ashley’s high-pitched voice cheers harshly in your ears as she lightly slaps your arm, but you smile at her anyway, despite the fact that her tone made it feel rather belittling. It’s fine. This is fine, it will be fine. Your anxiety feels like a ticking time bomb, but you know that when you get there and start having fun, it will eventually fade into the background of the noise and lights of the festival. At least, you hoped it would.

    The festival is pretty packed when you get there, but the wide walkways and plentiful games, areas, and events make it more approachable. After the first watery drink of the night, you start to relax a little. And as bitchy and frigid as the girls can be sometimes, they’re a lot of fun when it comes to a party! Carnival games, photo areas, rides, and jumpscares? You find yourself laughing most of the night as the three of you goof off and stumble your way through the corn maze, clown maze, haunted maze- a little repetitive in that area, but fun nonetheless.

    The funny thing was, despite all the people here, and everyone the girls have stopped to flirt with and talk to, you keep seeing this one particular guy. He was certainly one to stand out in a crowd, tall, dark, and handsome with what looked like a permanent smirk on his face. But the one thing you couldn’t seem to shake was his eyes. They had to be contacts, right? Black Scelera, red irises, black pupils… just, strange. And familiar, somehow. You feel like you see him everywhere you go, somehow always in your vicinity, but not really in a stalkerish kind of way. Besides, it was more than likely just a coincidence. 

    After a while of playing various games and a couple more watery drinks, you’re feeling pretty warm and a little crowded. Ashley and Sophie had run into some acquaintances they knew and had stopped to chat for a bit. They talk about some of the more busy and exciting things you haven't been able to check out yet, but the longer you stand there, the less appealing all of this starts to sound. You’re beginning to feel a little overstimulated, and go ahead and let the girls know you’d rather sit this one out. Sophie doesn’t answer you at all, and all Ashley does is wave you off. It sparks some annoyance in your chest, but knowing that you’re overwhelmed and everything feels like it's at 100% right now- you shrug it off. 

    You find a bale of hay to sit on where you told them you’d wait, relieved at the feeling of the cool night air that’s uninterrupted by masses of warm bodies and hot breathing. The sound of the crowd is a little muffled over here, and the slight breeze just gives you everything you need for a quick break from the chaos, eyes closed as you lean back onto your hands. Not for long though, as someone plops down onto the space next to you pretty much immediately. 

    “Busy night, ay, cher?” Your eyes flick open quickly, and the source of that thick Cajun draw just so happens to be the handsome man you had been seeing all night. You blush a little, both out of nervousness and from the fact that he was even more attractive up close. The cool air suddenly feels sweltering with his eys on you like this. 

    “...yeah, I guess so.” You say after a moment, pressing a cool palm against one of your hot cheeks for a quick moment. The stranger chuckles at you, a flash of a fake fang appearing with his smile. 

    “Name’s Remy, Remy LeBeau.” He holds his hand out for a handshake, which you take with a smile. “Pretty girl like you gotta name?” You can’t help but giggle a little, and tell him your name, butterflies in your stomach with the way he’s looking at you.

    “Nice to meet you, officially.” You say, and he cocks an eyebrow at you with that signature smirk of his. “I mean- like, I feel like I’ve been seeing you everywhere tonight! Not in a creepy way or anything, I just…” You take your hand back from him, covering your face in embarrassment as you apologize again with a sigh. God, why were you so awkward? You drop your hands into your lap as Remy begins to laugh, with you blushing furiously in a way you pray you can blame on the alcohol. 

    “ s’ good to know I make a lasting impression,” Remy says, and it’s charming enough to make you crack another smile. 

    “I promise I’m not normally this strange. It’s been a bit of a night.” The words come out like a sigh, and you glance over where the “stressors” of the night had run off to, strangely thankful when you can't see them through the crowd. You feel like your heart skips a beat when you look back over at Remy, with a smile on his face and a fondness in his eyes you feel like might be a little too friendly for someone you just met.

    “I don’t mind, Cher. You’ll find that I like strange.” He replies, sending you a wink. You let out a short laugh, cocking an eyebrow at him.

    “You know what? I believe you.” You say, all Remy does is smile wider. You glance at him again, looking at him from head to toe as you take in his appearance up close. You can’t really tell if he’s wearing a costume, or if he had just stuck on some vampire teeth and called it a night. Either way, he looks good, and you really do not want to make a further fool of yourself. 

    “What led you here, anyway? Costume catch your eye?” You flirt, hoping you don’t come off as nervous as you are- not really one to flirt with handsome strangers. But hey! When the opportunity presents itself… Remy raises his eyebrows, interested. 

    “Sure, Somethin' like that.”

    You and Remy talk for a really, really long time. From the outside looking in, just about anyone would presume you were a couple with the easy-flowing conversation and back-and-forth flirting. You just clicked! It was so easy for your nerves to wash away, and for a long moment, all of your anxieties about the night were long forgotten. One of the two of you had scooted closer in the duration of your flirt-fest, not that you really noticed while caught up in his words and charismatic smile- your sides being pressed together and his hand resting behind you. He’s close enough to lean in and kiss you, and honestly, you certainly wouldn’t mind if he did.

    “So you want my number then?” The words are admittedly cocky, but damn did this guy make you feel so confident in your own skin.

    “You hear me say I didn’t?” Remy replies, cocking his head at you. You can't help but laugh, smiling like some cheesy idiot.

    “Do you flirt like this with every girl?”

    “Jus’ the ones I like.”

    You really hadn’t noticed how long the two of you had been sitting together, an hour? Maybe an hour and a half? Your phone had been long forgotten, and you weren’t really planning to check it either until you heard a giddy squeal from your right. Both you and Remy look over to the noise, only to see the girls, without their clique from before and presumably done with all of their roaming at the moment.

    “Hey girlie! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Ashley says, drawing you into an awkward side hug that you don’t return, confused.

    “I told you where I’d be?” She brushes you off, locking eyes with Remy for just long enough for her eyebrows to raise and a glint to light up in her eyes. 

    “Who’s this?” You don’t have time to answer before Sophie is in front of you, taking your hands and dragging you to your feet.

    “Come get food with us!! We need an excuse to sober up, and we’re not doing it without you, bestie!”  Both of them are being a little more friendly than normal, and it's enough to make you a little suspicious. But, food did sound pretty nice at the moment. You look back at Remy with a sheepish smile, and you find that he’s already looking at you. 

    “ S’ alright, Cher. I’m a patient man.” He gives you a reassuring smile, and you relax a little more, unable to keep yourself from smiling as butterflies light up in your stomach. The girls drag you away pretty much immediately, talking about some afterparty or whatnot, but all you can think of the entire time is the implications of that statement.

    “Where’d you find a man like that?” Sophie’s voice finally catches your attention while in line for the carnival food, and you give her a questioning look.

    “Sorry?” You ask, and both of them giggle in that way that just seems to set alarms off in your head.

    “I’m serious! Almost every guy we’ve seen tonight has been like, a seven. That one is literally a ten.” Sophie giggles again, sending Ashley a knowing look. You blush a little, thinking about Remy again, but there’s just something about this conversation that’s making you uncomfortable.

    “Well, I didn’t exactly find him. He approached me.” You admit, shrugging your shoulders. The girls exchange skeptical looks, before laughing again.

    “Really?” Ashley asks this time, a wolfish smile on her face. It’s rhetorical- and feels just plain bitchy. Your face screws up, and you think about confronting her, but they quickly and ignorantly delve into a separate conversation, and you reluctantly decide to let it go. What the fuck was up with them? You don’t fall into conversation with them for a minute as you try to collect yourself, knowing you’d rather ride home with them than pay for a separate Uber. And starting a fight was definitely not going to work in your favor, seeing as they were your neighbors. They had a pack mentality like no other, and after tonight you’d much rather be able to ignore them forever instead of having a neiborly feud. 

    Eventually, you do decide to join the conversation. The line for food was ridiculously fucking long, and although it was moving, you still felt so impatient. Your phone is dying, and you’d really rather save your battery for Remy’s number and the ride home- so you talk and hope for the best. Eventually, Ashley says she needs to go to the bathroom and hands her wallet to Sophie before she stalks off. She’s gone for a while. A really long while. As you’re finally inching your way to the end of the line, Sophie tells you she’s going to find her. You actually welcome the peace and quiet, and promise to hold the spot. 4th in line. 3rd. 2nd. You’re starting to get anxious by the fact that neither of them had returned, but you get to the end and they’re still not back. 

    You buy a funnel cake for yourself, almost worried about the two as you walk back to the hay bale where you left Remy. The crowd finally starts to clear a bit, and when the Hay bale is finally in sight, you actually assume that you were looking at the wrong spot for a minute- until you recognize the costumes, and then spot the brunette they are both latched onto.

    Ashley is in his space, her costume unzipped just enough for anyone walking past to get a view. Sophie is leaning across his shoulders, running her fingers through his hair and twirling the ends with manicured fingers You can’t see his face- but it didn’t really matter anyway. 

    You don’t mean to drop the funnel cake, but you do. There's a shot of ice through your veins when it clicks for you, finally, as you watch them from a distance- it was a ploy. A stupid fucking ploy. You were the ugly friend- If they could even call you that. You were invited to make them look better. The matching costumes, the conspiring looks, the whole thing about Remy. Jesus Christ, had you always been this blind? Your face is warm with humiliation, eyes watering as you desperately try not to cry.

    Remy had nothing to do with it- of course, he didn’t, you just met him, but as you look at the two draped over him… You just feel like you can’t really compare. You know better. You do- but god, did it hurt. You don’t want to go over there for them to make fun of you again, and you sure as hell don’t want to feel the sting of rejection that will inevitably come when he ditches you for them. Before you know it, your feet are moving. You’re not thinking clearly- hardly thinking at all. You see a side entrance, or maybe a fire exit, not that you really care. You can’t read anything through your tears, closing the door behind you and plugging yourself into darkness as it clicks shut.

    Inside, you find a mirror maze- again, what was with all of the fucking mazes? The overhead lights are off, what little light that’s coming from the outside dimly reflecting through each and every silvery mirror. It’s completely abandoned, with not a single soul in sight. You step over some shattered glass as you make your way further into the maze, and understand it was probably because drunks and mirrors don’t mix. 

    You find a dead end in the maze, and it’s like your legs give out. You can't help but just sit on the ground and sob for a minute. The backs of your hands are stained with the mascara that you’re sure is streaking down your face. You feel like an idiot- stupid, dramatic, pathetic. And you looked it, too. Every mirror reflects the mess of what you have become until you can’t stand to look at yourself anymore, pulling your knees to your chest and tucking your head into your arms.

    It's a quiet reprieve. You sit for a minute, long after your tears have dried. Your breathing begins to return to normal as the humiliation really starts to settle in. You’re so tired, and exhausted, and find yourself wishing you had never come out tonight at all, visioning your comfy bed that waits for you at home. 

    “Pauvre ti bête. Looks like you need new friends, Cher.” The sound of the voice makes you flinch, the daylight scared out of you as a dark figure sits down by your side.    “Remy?” You wipe at your face again, knowing it was to no avail, and that the damage to your makeup had already been done. 

    “The one an’ only,” He replies. It’s hard to see him in the low lighting, but it’s not like you’re looking around much anyway. There’s a silence between you two, and your gaze is locked on the floor, refusing to look at him with your stupid pout and tear-stained face.

    “Sat for a while, waitin’ on you.” He says, after a long moment, and it makes you feel so much fucking worse. You curl into yourself a little more.

    “Sorry, I just… I dunno, I thought you looked busy.” The words are more of a whisper than anything, and he chuffs something that’s not quite a laugh in response.

    “I guess you could say that.” He hums, leaning back on his hands as you finally turn to look at him. “Hadda swat those girls like damn mosquitos to get 'em off. Felt like they were tryna swallow me whole.” You can’t help but laugh at that, rubbing your eyes a bit.

    “...Trust me, they were probably trying to swallow something.” The words are out of your mouth before your brain can really catch up. Remy laughs a full laugh, smiling brightly at you now that you’ve started to come back out of your shell once again. 

    “Sorry, that was crude.”

    “Sounded pretty funny to me,” Remy’s grin is contagious, not that you ever would complain. You roll your eyes at him with that big smile on your face, leaning your head against the mirror behind you.

    “I guess I can’t really blame them, either.” You mumble, eyes going wide once you realize that that was most definitely not supposed to leave your lips. “God damn, I really have lost my filter!” Remy begins to laugh again as you cover your face, flushed with embarrassment. He doesn’t seem to mind the comment at all. Pulling your hands away as he struggles to contain his laughter. 

    “I like you, y’know that?” He says, and it makes you smile. You sit in comfortable silence for a bit, and before you know it, you find yourself leaning on his shoulder, eyes closed. Your thoughts slowly begin to wander. Remy’s very sweet, and the fact that he still came looking for you despite everything… It meant a lot. You can only imagine how uncomfortable he had been with Ashley and Sophie hanging off of him, waiting, wondering where you had gone. If he notices as your smile slowly becomes a frown, he doesn’t say anything. 

    “I’m sorry I left you out there.” You say quietly, breaking the silence that had become so uncomfortable for you. “I hadn’t realized they invited me to be the “ugly” friend until right then and I just needed to get away from it all.” There’s a featherlight brush of skin against your cheek, and when you open your eyes, Remy pushes a few strands of hair out of your face, thumb lingering against your skin. You find yourself caught up in his piercing gaze. It’s almost like he’s looking into your soul.

    “Pretty dumb choice to invite you if they were looking for an ugly friend.” His voice is low, and his cool hand feels nice against your flushed skin. You can’t drag your eyes away from his, gazes locked together as the tension only grows- thick enough to cut with a knife and choke you as you breathe it in. It’s he who breaks the eye contact first, stunning red irises flickering down to your lips and back up again. 

    “Really,” You ask, but it’s less of a question and more like a filler, mind unable to provide anything other than that. You’re caught up in that little action of his, swallowing, unable to look away from him. Suddenly, you realize just how close he really is.

    “Mais oui,” He mumbles, close enough for you to feel the slight breath that comes with the words. His thumb and finger prop up your chin, but he moves no closer, waiting for you. It’s hardly a debate for you to decide to brush your lips against his own.

    It’s like fireworks explode behind your eyelids when the space between you closes, his lips melding against you perfectly. It’s soft and sweet. Gentle for a man as much of a flirt as he appeared to be. He kisses you a few times, just like that, until the kiss starts to develop into something a little more heated. He turns to face you a little better, the sharp fangs in his mouth grazing your bottom lip as he leans over you and licks at the seam of your lips- which you eagerly open for him. Fuck, he was a good kisser. 

    Before long, you’re leaning back on your palms, and one of Remy’s knees presses between your thighs. Your elbows buckle just a little, and he’s quick to catch you. One of his hands is on the small of your back as he keeps you propped up, the other one flat against the floor as he keeps both of you from falling. He nips at your lip- the tip of his canine just barely splitting the skin before he kisses away your yelp, licking the blood away just as quickly as it had appeared. As embarrassing as it was, the action alone was enough to get the attention of heat slowly building in your abdomen. His kisses trail from your lips down to your neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. 

    Your eyes slowly open, half-lidded as you weave your fingers through his hair, tongue softly licking at the stinging soreness of that bottom lip of yours. He’s not as aggressive with the rest of you, kissing and sucking dark spots into you as the sharp canines only drag and graze. Your eyes wander to a mirror across from you- one just barely lit from what you were sure was a hole in the roof- the full moon lining up just perfectly enough to light the mirrored room.

    It takes a second for you to recognize what you see in the mirror.

    You see yourself. Just yourself, leaned over as if you were hovering, neck exposed with purple marks blooming mysteriously across your skin. It’s you. Just you. Only you.

    A gasp is ripped out of your throat, and if the way your spine goes rigid wasn’t enough to alert Remy, it was the fast, pounding beat of your heart. Your eyes are glued to that image reflected in the mirror, even as Remy removes himself from your neck and finds himself staring at that same image. He stiffens, an unreadable look on his face before he recovers with an amused hum. 

    “Well, Don’t we make a lovely couple?” He muses. And when you finally look back at him, his strange eyes and sharp fangs, you realize exactly what he is. A wave of familiarity washes over you again, but you can’t place it as the horror begins to wash over you. 

    “Oh my god.” You breathe, almost stuck in disbelief. This could not be real, could it? That smirk of his makes yet another appearance, and yet something feels off about it. Deceptive, almost. It does not reach his eyes.

    “What, you afraid?” He asks with a chuckle. You wonder for a moment about the situation you had put yourself into, held in the arms of what could only be a vampire. All you can do is look at him, wide-eyed. If stories were to be believed, he’d be caging you in his arms, holding you in an iron grip before he strikes- bleeding you dry without care… 

    But he’s not. Yes, he was holding you up, but the arm around you is loose. His body language is open- and you get the feeling that if you tried to make a run for it, he’d let you. He’s not vicious. He’s not snapping at you or pinning you down. Hell, he had the chance to bite you earlier while you were pliant and eager, and he didn’t. 

    “...I don’t actually know, right now.” You finally respond, and something shifts. His breath catches in his throat, and the barest glimpse of vulnerability is gone within a second as he leans back a little, giving you a chance to sit up a bit more. You do so hesitantly.

    “I’m not here to hurt you, Cher. Just wanted to give you a proper thank you.” He rumbles. He takes one of your hands, lifting it to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles, gaze never leaving your own. Black, red, black. Where had you seen that before?

    “Proper… what?” You furrow your eyebrows, trying your damndest to make sense of it all. Black, red, black. Black, red, black. Sharp teeth. Vampires, bats, Vampire bats. Vampire bat. Vampire bat. For the second time tonight, it all clicks for you. 

    “Holy shit. You-? The bat?-” You feel like you’re at a loss for words. Remy smiles again, fangs catching the low light of the mirrored room.

    “That’d be me.” He admits, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. “ ‘Thought I was done for until you showed up. Most vamps like that? They don’t make it inside ‘fore the sun comes up.” He chuckles, but the seriousness of the situation is not lost on you. Saving the life of an immortal being rather than the life of a small bat is something huge, it felt like it, at least. 

    “Did you follow me here? Is that why I kept seeing you around tonight?” You ask. Remy simply shrugs his shoulders, letting your fingers go as he inches forward, looming over you once again. 

    “Think of it as more of a happy accident.” Remy sets his arms on either side of you, leaning close enough for his nose to gently brush against yours. You think he’s going to kiss you as his hand comes up to cup your chin. Instead, Remy runs his thumb across your lower lip, which you hadn’t even realized had started to bleed again. He brings the thumb to his mouth, licking the smear of blood. The sight is seductive. Arousing. You find yourself staring at his lips, conflicted. He sets his forehead against your own, hovering over your lips. There’s a heated look in his eyes when you look back up at them.

    “Tell me to leave, Cher, And I’ll go.” You swallow as he says the words, a flutter in your chest and a growing warmth within you. You bite your lower lip, your hesitance quickly being overshadowed by want.

    “... You're not gonna suck my blood or anything?” You ask, lips beginning to brush against his own. He chuckles, and this time he’s close enough for you to feel the sound as it rumbles through his chest.

    “Not unless you want me to…” He’s teasing you now, making you chase his lips until he’s fully sure you really want this, and you do. When they finally meet, his lips press against yours just as spectacularly as they did the first time. One of his hands snakes around the back of your neck, shielding the lower part of your head as he lowers you to the floor. You find yourself lost in his kisses, thinking of only him and the way he treats you so gently. 

    He props himself up with one strong arm, the other cupping the side of your face rather reverently, his thumb stroking across your cheekbone. Your hands can’t help but wander up and down his torso, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt. You feel him smile against your lips as you do, kissing at the corner of your mouth, and then your jaw, before the fluttery movement traces a path over each and every discolored spot on your neck, kissing the marks he had given you not even twenty minutes earlier. Your hands come up to tangle in his hair as the kisses venture further. His cold face presses into your open cleavage, an open palm dragging up from your thigh and sliding beneath your top, softly squeezing the bare skin of your waist. You find yourself arching into his touch, eager for his soft caress. 

    You have goosebumps down your chest as his fangs graze the skin, his fingers hooking around the neckline of your shirt and the bra underneath it from the inside. The cool air hits your bare breasts as he tugs it down, your nipples pebbling at the frigid draft. Your breath hitches at the feeling as his lips venture down your sternum, his free hand moving out from under the fabric to palm and toy with one breast as he begins to tease the other. He chuckles at you when you let out a whine, fingers tugging on his locks.

    “Have a little patience, Cher.” There’s a seductive lure to his voice as Remy tells you to have a little faith in him, pressing one last kiss to the swell of one said breast as he moves back up. He easily draws you into another long, heated kiss. He continues to play with the breast in his hand, pinching and testing the supple give of the skin. Your muffled whines and moans are music to his ears as he presses his knee against your heated core, only relenting with his playful touches when he slides his palm under your spine, forcing you to arch your back. He lets go of your lips to drag his attention back to your breast, now sucking at the stiff peaks, careful of his sharp teeth. 

    “Remy,” His name comes out inadvertently, the sound making him groan against you. Your hands have slid down from their hold on his scalp, now resting against his wide shoulders with a tight grip on the fabric of his shirt. His palm wanders up and down the expanse of your back, thriving off of the feeling of your hot, flushed skin against his cold body. 

    The feeling of your top being bunched around your waist starts to become uncomfortable and suffocating. You squirm to try and take it off yourself, but Remy is quick to stop you. He pulls it off of you slowly, kissing every inch of skin it drags against as it goes. Once it's off, he leans back to get a good look at you, cursing under his breath as his hands find your thighs. You know for a fact you’re flushed and red from the neck down. The sight only encourages Remy further, quickly sitting up and removing his own shirt, keeping his gaze on yours throughout the movement. 

    It’s not surprising when his upper body catches your attention, the lean muscle impressive for a man who’s basically dead. Or was he? When he’s back within reach, you run your right hand from his happy trail till you reach his collarbone, fingertips pressing into the cold skin as you try to feel for a pulse. He hums, a mischievous glint in his eye when he realizes what you’re doing. 

    “You won’t find a heartbeat, cher. Not from me.” Remy confirms your thoughts. You can only hum in response, leaning up to press a soft kiss where your hand had been, over his heart. Remy lets out a low groan at the action, inciting a slow grind of his hips against yours.

    “Merde.” He mumbles.“You play a dangerous game, makin’ a dead heart flutter.” 

    “Do I really?” You ask, biting your lip. Remy leans in, just far enough to teasingly brush his lips against your own before he moves down the length of your neck, never touching you in the way to crave so badly. 

    “I get the feeling you like dangerous games.” There's something sharp against your neck, the tips of his fangs gently dragging across the skin. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but not out of fear. He grinds his hips into you once again, your hips eagerly bucking to meet his own. You swallow deeply at the sound he makes at the action- realizing that you just might want him to bite into you. It’s crazy. You feel crazy. It must be so tantalizing for him to be pressed against you like this, fully aware of the red-hot blood rushing through your veins and the constant pounding of your heart. And yet, he never takes the bait. 

    Remy’s lips meet your own again right as your hands meet the buckle of his jeans. He sighs against your lips as you undo it, sliding your hand underneath the stiff fabric to feel the hardness he hides underneath. He’s… big. Not necessarily long, but he’s thicker than you had expected him to be. You stroke him over the fabric of his boxers, feeling his length twitch under your touch. When he separates from the kiss, he tucks his head into your shoulder. You can’t help but giggle at the action as you begin to pull both garments down, his cock slapping against his lower abdomen once freed. 

    “Are you sensitive, Remy?” You ask him, turning your head to bury it in his hair. You wrap your hand around his cock, hearing him moan before cursing quietly when you give him a slight squeeze. 

    “Sometimes.” He mumbles, one of his calloused hands coming up to one of your breasts, gently rubbing his thumb over your nipple to encourage it to a stiff peak. You can’t help but let out a surprised moan as he pinches and teases, feeling his smile against the skin of your shoulder. 

    “But I got nothin’ on you.” Remy kisses your breast, before taking a long, slow lick across the sensitive skin. He takes the nub into his mouth, giving it a short suck before he lets go of it with a pop. 

    You almost want to whine and complain when Remy removes himself from you, but quickly lose the thought as you watch him remove his pants and boxers in one movment. Once he’s done, he slowly slides his hands from your ankles to your hips, hooking his fingers underneath the fabric of your bottoms. He kisses the space beneath your belly button, red eyes trained on your own as he slowly drags the clothing down, undressing you until you’re bare. He licks his lips at the sight of you, slowly spreading your legs as he begins to kiss from your knees to your…

    “You don’t- you don’t have to do that.” You stutter out once you realize what he’s doing. You’ve never been eaten out before, and the sight of him between your legs has already got you flushed and nervous- embarresed, even. Remy’s eyes shift back up to your face, his fingers sliding between your admittedly slick folds as you try to hold back a moan.

    “Vampires are creatures of desire, cher. Thirsty ones at that.” He rumbles, and it’s like everywhere he touches you is on fire, his cool hands stroking you into a lustful heat. “Should I beg for you to consider?” He’s got this knowing look on his face, watching you as you bite your lip, face twitching with pleasure every time those fingers of his graze your clit. He slides a finger into you without resistance, curling it just right. You buck your hips into the feeling, nodding vigorously as a final go-ahead. 

    Remy dives into your cunt like a man starved. 

    Every lick of his tongue and curl of his fingers has you seeing stars. Fuck, did it feel good. He touches you expertly, finding spots within you that you didn't even know you had. He lets a moan slip now and then, fully immersed in the warm wetness of your pussy. 

    Your legs are hooked over his shoulders, a hand splayed across your lower abdomen to keep you from bucking up into his mouth as he enjoys himself. You feel close to cumming embarrassingly quick- quick in a way you had never known yourself to even be capable of.

    “Remy!” It's an urgent call of his name, your hands tangling themselves in his hair as you attempt to warn him. He hums in response, right over your clit, and it does nothing but push your body further. You come with a rather embarrassing noise, hips twitching and thighs pressing into the side of his head. You can't help but assume that not needing to breathe was only a bonus for the man currently suffocating between your pillowy thighs. 

    He lets you ride out your orgasm with enthusiasm, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around your sensitive cunt as your breathing begins to even out and your legs begin to relax around him. 

    He looks absolutely wrecked when he sits up. His hair is messy, a pussydrunk smile he's certainly not afraid to hide spreading across his face. 

    “You feelin’ alright, cher?” He asks. You eagerly nod in response, leaning into his touch when he crawls back over you to place a kiss against your lips. You've never been one to taste yourself, but you find that you don’t mind tasting it on his lips. Remy's cock begins a slow grind against you, grazing your clit with every stroke. You moan into the kiss, a string of spit between your mouths when you separate long enough to catch your breath.

    “Fuck.” The word is whispered, but that doesn't stop Remy from catching it. He lets out a low laugh, collecting your wetness as he grinds. 

    “You ready for me?” He asks. You nodd, closing your eyes as you eagerly wait for the stretch of his cock. Exempt, he stops.

    “I need you to give me a yes, cher.”

    “Yes-” He swallows the rest of that word in an eager kiss, finally sliding into your heat inch by inch. You both moan in union, feeling every inch of that slow stretch. He's cold. Not freezing, but cold. It's unlike any feeling you've felt before, and surprisingly, you want more of it.

    His body begins to warm a little more everywhere the two of you touch- and god, does it feel good. Remy favors a steady pace, with powerful thrusts that hit you right every single time. It felt like he was made for you, and he most definitely felt the same. Remy kisses you like a man in love, fucking you in a way that makes you see rings instead of stars. 

    Every smack of his hips against yours is rather careful, measured even. It's only when he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach like a ragdoll that you realize the kind of strength he holds- suddenly grateful for his caution. He's quick to go back to rearranging your insides once he has you on your knees, front pressed against your back as he kisses at the nape of your neck and slides his arm around your front, palm splayed under a boob with his thumb on the valley between.

    “Look at us, love.” His chest rumbles against your back, and it's not even a whole minute before the position changes again, Remy pulling you against him as he sits up onto his knees, holding you steady as he makes you face the mirror. 

    You wish that you could see his reflection in that mirror as you gaze upon the sight of you, red face flushed and needy. You don't see the way he holds you pressed so tightly against his chest, or the way he admires that evocative image of you, shaking with each thrust. 

    “Aren't you a sight, bele.” His breath is cold against your ear, his hand coming down to circle your clit as his thrusts pick up in pace. You can tell he's close, reaching that peak just as fast as you reach your own. You grasp at his hands, moans and whine only getting louder as that pleasure gets ever-so-close.

    His groan against your ear is unnecessarily hot, his thrusts stuttering right before he pulls out of you. His cock rests just below your lower lips, using the friction of your thighs as he reaches that high. He cums in thick streaks, your own release following directly after.

    There's a buzzing sound right as Remy sits back, placing you in his lap as he kisses across your shoulders sweetly. You relax against him, boneless as you both try to catch your breath. The buzzing stops for a moment before it continues again. You hardly register the noise, and are certainly in no condition to try and find the source.

    When Remy looks over to the sound, he finds your phone hiding beneath the scattered clothes on the floor. It's his shirt, and he reaches over to grab it. The phone is set to the side as he maneuvers you around, dressing you in his shirt like a gentleman.

    “Cher?” You hum, only halfway aware at the moment as Remy calls your name. He hands you your phone, and you open your eyes just enough to unlock it and see the fifteen missed calls from Ashley and Sophie. 

    “God damnit. Can't I have any peace?” You curse. Remy laughs, watching from over your shoulder as you check the additional excessive Snapchat messages from them. 

    “Maybe we should send them a message, no?” Remy reaches over to your phone, swiping over to the Snapchat camera, angling it to where both of your sweaty, disheveled faces are inframe, along with the line of purple hickies that trail down your neck. Jesus christ, you were about to fuck him all over again for even suggesting this. Who knew you were into revenge like that?

    “Oh fuck yes.”

[umnitsa]

Dirty old man

Summary: Joel is on his seventies, but he still has needs.

A/N: Ok, so. One pic made the rounds in one of the discord servers I frequent and it made me wild, I won't lie (it was a pic/meme with aged Pedro Pascal). Highly inspired by @toxicanonymity's GILF!Joel (mine is a bit of a perv, but this isn't really a dark fic). It was also inspired by @atticrissfinch's MMITB (I wish I had a fraction of her talent for dirty talk, but I'm not even a native speaker of English, so I do what I can). Now you go read them both, I ASSURE YOU it'll be a good time. Huge thanks for all the people that cheered me on with this: Toxi, @romanarose, @beefrobeefcal, @gwendibleywrites, I love you all. (I must admit that I don't know if I'll ever continue this, honestly, although part of me wants to get to the sex scene. xD)

Pairing: No outbreak old man!Joel x Reader

CW: Joel being bold, dirty talk. That's it <3

No beta, we die like lonely writers xD

It wasn’t a bad job.

Sarah wanted to hire you to take care of her father, Joel. He wasn’t that old, but years of hard work in construction gave him some mobility issues. Sarah worried he spent too time alone, and that he could fall, get hurt and trapped without help because of his pride (which seemed to be a real possibility, considering Joel didn’t want to lose his independence in any way).

You were supposed to get the night shift, which was nice. The night shift was calm, except when it wasn’t. Sarah assured you she talked to her father, she wanted to introduce you to him, before you started working.

You prepared for war, if the man was as stubborn and grumpy as his daughter described.

Sarah introduced you and the old man looked at you over his glasses.

“You sure this pretty thing can lift me off the floor?” He asked, a crooked smirk stretching his lips. You considered answering him, but he raised his face defiantly and winked.

He was teasing his daughter.

You chuckled, to Joel’s delight. Sarah hired you on the spot.

***

Joel was grumpy most of the time. You could understand. Getting older was specially hard on some people. Losing their independence seemed to be a horrifying blow.

You admired the family pictures displayed on the walls and the bookshelves. They showed a younger Joel, large and proud, wearing tight tshirts that showed his big arms.

He didn’t change much, to be honest. His hair now was completely silver, as his beard. The wrinkles didn’t spoil his roguish smile. He was on his seventies, but looked younger, somehow. You blamed his brown eyes.

***

“You know what I miss most about my youth?” He said softly one day, entering the living room. You were looking at his pictures. He slowly moved by your side and placed a hand over your back, rubbing gentle circles. “All the pussy.”

You turned to him, astonished at his boldness. He smirked, then shrugged. You felt your face getting warm and a different, slick, syrupy warmth pooling on your lower belly. He licked his lips and sighed.

“It was easy to get pussy with those looks.” He pointed at one picture of himself and smiled proudly. “Didn’t fuck as much as I wanted, or as much as I could. Tried to be a good dad. Don’t regret anything, but... Oh boy, I miss it.” He looked you up and down, his smile turning appreciative.

“Thought old pervs like you liked tiny thin teenagers.” You scoffed.

“Only dumbasses want those.” Joel chuckled, his hand sliding lower on your back. “I like them older. Like you. With those eyes, like you know and did everything under the sun.” Joel hums, closing his eyes. “Get them cockdumb and they cry so sweetly… Mmmm, the surprise in their wide eyes...” He licks his lips, watching your reaction. You laugh, trying to hide your own arousal.

“Well, Joel, I think the preference is because they are supposed to be tight.” You said firmly, standing your ground. You refused to look shocked, and you saw no reason to scold him, at least not yet. Maybe it was your pussy talking.

Joel leaned over you slowly; you stayed very still. His warm breath tickled your ear.

“After a certain size, honey, everything feels tight.” He said softly, grabbing his half hard cock through his pants. You looked down and gasped, noticing the girth of his bulge inside his huge hand. Joel stepped back, smiling proudly, and moved into the house, dragging his feet. “Lemme know if you want a ride, sweetheart. Them blue pills are easy to get.” He turned and winked at you.

[ryescapades]

cw: none, maybe a bit suggestive

wc: <800 | no beta we die like my will to wake up tmr (i have an 8am class)

thinking about model!hoshina / narumi (orrr your fave bcs anyone works well in this i think) who's recently signed a contract with a cosmetic brand, and when he's called in for the scheduled shooting for the promotional advertisements, he requests that you come along with him to the studio.

"remind me again why i'm here with you?" you say, feeling out of place in a room full of professional photographers, makeup artists, hair stylists and other sophisticated and flamboyant-looking people you don't know the name of their jobs to.

you send a questioning look to your boyfriend, who has been cleaned up well by his stylist team; clad in a long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned at the top to expose that gorgeous smooth skin and sinewy muscles underneath along with a pair of loose trousers. shiny metal rings adorn his lithe fingers and a thin silver chain hangs on his collarbones. his hair is handsomely mussed up, the rugged and messy style acting as the final touch to his already good looks.

the two of you are already standing at the shooting set, with him sitting leisurely on a square-shaped prop seat, a few of the staffs scurrying around to fix the lightings and other props alike.

giving you a lopsided smile, he answers, "you're doing the photoshoot with me, of course." you raise a confused eyebrow before glancing down at your outfit, then back at him. "i'm literally in a t-shirt and sweatpants right now." you flatly say.

he grins and pulls you to stand between his spread legs, hands comfortable on your waist before he deliberately trails them down to the side of your hips, sneaking under the oversized shirt that he knows you'd stolen from his wardrobe. he smiles at the thought, something akin to possessiveness swelling in his chest.

"you still look good like this, baby... but then again, you look good all the time," he drawls, staring up at you with those heavy lidded eyes, causing you to playfully roll yours. his thumbs rub gentle circles on your skin as you settle your hands on his shoulders, gazing back at him like magnets of unlike poles being pulled towards each other.

the tension between you breaks when a staff walks up, a tube of... lipstick? in her hand as she approaches. wordlessly, he takes the tube from her and turns to you with a pointed look. "is that what you're shooting for?" you ask, noting the cosmetic's pretty shade of crimson as he rolls it up.

"mhm," he hums low in affirmation, and as he brings it up to your face is when you stop his hand, confusion taking over your expression. "wait, what are you doing?"

"putting this on you?" he cutely frowns like the answer isn't obvious enough already, the sight a bit of a contrast to his manly appearance. you chuckle slightly in response. "i know, i can see that. but why?"

"you'll figure it out later."

when you finally did put the lipstick on (he insisted that he help you with it, of course), the man had to resist from pulling you to the backroom somewhere lest he starts a sloppy make out session with you right then and there but instead he says, "'kay, now give me a peck."

it takes you a few blinks to finally register what his photoshoot's concept is. no less than a second later, you lean in, hands cradling his sharp jawlines as you press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, firm, intimate and just shy from his plush lips.

you can hear the faint, sharp intake of his breath as you slowly drag your lips to his, planting a sweet peck that results in a soft yet audible smooching sound when you pull away. you take in his final look, and your eyes were nearly filled with hearts then.

the new addition of the red pigment smeared on his skin makes him look all the more alluring and wild, downright sexy the longer you stare at it.

you don't even realize that your boyfriend had said his thanks for your quote unquote contribution, nor do you realize he had gently pushed you away to the side so he could proceed with the photoshoot, a smirk curling at his lips at your dazed and mesmerized eyes.

as if madly hypnotized, you ogle him from out of the camera frame like a sailor being lured in by a siren. it feels... satisfying somehow, to see him with marks like that. your marks, to be specific. it just further emphasizes his willingness and desire to be openly claimed by you, to have a reminder of you on whatever part of his skin.

guess you technically are doing the photoshoot with him...

yea so i had a thought.

taglist: @maruflix @iamjellyfish @ouiouimochi @yueliie @justwinginglife @lumiambrose @minasfwoopyponytail @17020 @bgyuus @moon-cakiie

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[rrain-writes]

Oh Raven (Sing Me a Happy Song)

Chapter 1:

When the chain went through the new portal, they arrived in a place that was made up of grey poles, holding up a slab which appeared to be a roof of sorts. The place stank, and was deserted. No signs of life in any direction.

No one recognised it. It didn’t even look like a Hyrule!

The eight of them walked through the towering pillars before Time, who was walking in the front, stopped and looked up.

“Hey there kid.” He greeted.

The others followed his gaze to see a  teen perched in alcove, watching them. His blond hair hung down over his face, but it wasn’t quite long enough to hide the scars that ran down the side of his face and disappeared into his shirt.

“What’s your name?” Time asked when the boy didn’t move to reply.

“Depends.” He said. “What’s yours.”

His voice was quiet but honeyed, and he sat tensed, as if ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

Time introduced them and then paused, waiting to see what the stranger would do.

“You can call me Raven.” The boy tilted his head, cerulean eyes hunting for secrets. 

“So.” Raven said. “Do you lot not have any sense of direction or do you just have a death wish?”

“What do you mean?” Sky asked, stepping forward.

Raven laughed, but not with any humour. More as if he was mocking the group.

“You look and talk like your from Upper Hyrule. So what are you doing in a place like this?”

“We’re lost.” Time said firmly. “Mind showing us the way out?”

Raven looking down at them from where he was sitting. “It’ll cost you.”

Time glanced back at the group. “20?” He offered.

“Thousand?”

Eight faces all showed different expressions of shock, and there was even some anger though probably fueled by hunger and tiredness.

Twilight laughed. “You trying to scam us out of house and home huh? 20 rupees.”

Raven scoffed. “20 ain’t worth nothing round here.”

Time tried talking again. “No offende kid, but you look pretty desperate.” He gestures towards the boy’s skinny frame. “Will you help us or not.”

Raven glared at him, then looked away. “Fine. But if you’re walking around here you need to ditch the armour and fancy clothes. Draws to much attention.”

He watched them begin taking off their their armour and accessories and putting them into bags, despite some complaints. “Keep the weapons on you. Might need them.”

When the group was done, Raven cautiously kept down from the alcove, posture guarded. 

“It’s getting late. I know a place you can stay for the night.”

When the group protested, the scarred boy fixed his piercing gaze on the group. “Curfew starts soon. You want a place to stay or not?”