#no muse space for LU

[cerame]

Any idea when the next “A Guide To Endings” update will be? No pressure and no rush; I just want to know when to sort of expect it :>

(Also if you don’t think you’re gonna keep updating it that’s cool too! I loved “A Guide To Living (Again)” so much and I’m so happy we get to see any epilogues at all.)

😰 oh god I totally forgot about that.

Uhhhhh honestly I can’t promise I’ll put anything out there. I really do want to, but my brain dies every time I do much as think about opening that document. Tbh I think once I got the “important” ones (being Abyss and Dark) published, my drive to write for it checked out entirely.

I do have plans for the others, though. I’ll put them below for those who do want to know.

Ok so. As with the other epilogues, obviously, death warning. This entire thing is about dying, albeit usually dying happily…….. I am carefully not looking at Time and Dark as I say that.

Midnight: You were raised by wolves and voices

Midnight goes on a roadtrip with Twilight, bonding and bickering in equal measure, with Midnight bitching the whole time about it even though he’s the one who wanted this roadtrip in the first time place.

They get to the arbiter’s grounds, at which point, they have a nasty argument over Midna. Midnight remembers Midna vividly, and he disagrees with her actions and thinks of her as a hypocrite and a liar. Twilight, naturally, does not like this.

Midnight storms off and wanders on his own for a while. He meets the Hero’s Shade in the woods and learns of Dark’s fate and realizes that, despite the whole thing about lone wolves, the idea of being alone is terrifying. So he goes back and finds where his light has gotten to.

Twilight has refounded the ranch in Hyrule Field, and he accepts Midnight back into his life, and Midnight shows vulnerability in return.

Legends say that even long after Twilight passed, a wolf might be spotted roaming the fields, both as a terrifying specter and a guardian of travelers and children.

Secret: What you see is not the dark, it’s the just gods upturning inkpots

Secret moves in with Legend and Ravio and falls into a rhythm with them. They end up doing TFH together, and it’s a chaotic mess. This is a good chunk of the chapter

Something occurs to Secret in a dream, and he brings it up to Legend. They follow the dream memory and go to the Palace of the Four Sword. Cue a repeat of my other fic Fuck It, Refounds Your Family but with both Four and Shadow being recovered

They got stuck in there by accident. I would have come up with a much more reasonable series of events leading up to it if I actually wrote it

Secret realizes this era is home :)

Shadow goes with Four when he passes, but Secret decides to stick around a bit longer after Legend and Ravio pass. From the shadows, he watches the collapse of Hyrule. He narrowly escapes the wrath of Aurora’s brother, and as time passes, he realizes that sometimes, disguising himself as a monster makes things easier. And then, one day, a kid stumbles into his cave and startles him. Surprise, he’s Secret The Moblin, and that kid is Hyrule

He decides to wait to see Gloam again

Gloam: the dark things that wait

Hyrule and Gloam get along surprisingly well. Hyrule usually prefers to adventure alone, but he got used to company during LU, and Gloam is pretty quiet anyway, so they vibe. Hyrule explains everything to his Zeldas.

They leave the castle sometimes to help the people of Hyrule, meaning that Hyrule helps while Gloam hovers behind him. At some point, Secret shows up and accidentally jumpscares them, but he then joins the party. He has been touchstarved for a while

Secret’s personality is quite different by now, much closer to Legend and Ravio, and his “I want to let you learn it for yourself” attitude about the world adding to the dynamic makes the traveling funny at times

Interlude: I’ll stand here with you

Least developed chapter, thrown into my notes after the original note draft

Basically, it happens during the timeline merge. Secret got a princess to unweave him at some point, peaceful and content with his life. Gloam has been left behind then, and with the triforce sealed away again after so long, he no longer really has a job to fulfill. He wastes his time watching nature now, and one night as he’s stargazing, a certain mask salesman stops by and has an unnerving conversation before handing off a mask that Gloam finds too familiar

Abyss manages to speak with Gloam from inside the mask. They both really miss everyone. They get to confide that they had fun while it lasted, that they learned to love, and now, it’s just them. If any of the others are still around, they wouldn’t know.

They come to an agreement. They talk through the night, and when dawn comes, as the sun rises, all soft and sweet, Gloam destroys the mask, and the power backlash annihilates them both.

Civil: Tomorrow I’ll be brave

So, Civil learns that Wild is a fucking liar and won’t kill him yet. And no, Flora is still faultless in his eyes, so it’s definitely Wild’s fault.

They deny him immediate unweaving because they want to give him a last meal and take him wherever he wants to go. They’ve got a couple weeks until the next full moon anyway, so they’ve got time to spare.

They end up going on a little trip to find somewhere pretty to die.

It’s awfully sweet, and if Civil were an emotional person, he might have cried. He takes their kindness to heart, and one sunset, when he is content, Flora unweaves him. It is a gentle, painless death, and it would be the only unweaving I’d write in detail.

At some point, I wanted Civil to tell Flora “I love you. I do not know the nature of this love, but I know it is written into my very being. All I have ever been has been for you. I failed you, and for that, I’m sorry.” It’s the most she will ever hear from the hylian champion of the past

[tadpolesonalgae]

Flavoured condoms — headcanons

a/n: I’ve had this in my drafts for a couple of months but I kind of forgot about it 🤦 (and maybe was a little embarrassed to post it)

warnings: oral, obviously (m! recieving), Rhys is a little mean, reader’s a bit of a menace with Cass, Eris, and Lu

Rhysand: Strawberry

“What’s that look for?” You ask suspiciously as he enters the living room, finishing rolling up his sleeves over his elbows, showing off his forearms.

He comes to a stop beside you, leaning against the wall, gazing down at where you’re sat.

“Look?” He muses, a sinister glint in his sharp, violet eyes. “You want to talk about my look?”

You raise a brow, keeping your book open, lips curving at the edges, “what else?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw, and you allow your gaze to travel over him, deliciously muscled arms folded over his broad chest, long legs crossed at the ankles, raven hair just a little ruffled.

“You’re a smart girl,” he muses, “I’m sure you know what you’ve been doing.”

Heat unspools in your lower abdomen, crossing your legs as you lean back into the plush cushion of the armchair. “I’m sure I have no idea,” you reply, smirking.

His smile tightens, then he’s pushing off from the wall, tension uncoiling as he moves to be before you, broad palms settling with a rough edge around your waist, touching your hips as he effortlessly raises you from your seat.

“Rhys!” You yelp, book falling onto the side table as you squirm, using your hands to grip onto him as he turns you both around, tucking you into his lap as he takes your place.

“I was reading,” you snap, thighs spread over him, back arched a little out of instinct, hands pressed to his chest. He watches you keenly, an intensity simmering beneath his carefully crafted features.

“Are you going to fix that attitude, or should I?” He murmurs, hot lips brushing your own, dark power practically rolling off him in waves. Maybe you actually pissed him off.

But you smile, shifting closer, thighs parting more so your centre is right on top of him. “I thought you liked my attitude, Rhys,” you muse sweetly, subtly grinding down in his lap.

The stars wink out in his gaze, and anticipation bubbles away in your tummy, already beginning to ache for him, able to feel him pressing flush between your legs.

“Get on your knees,” he orders quietly, lips curved in a tight smile, jaw tense as he releases your hips.

“Yes sir,” you reply playfully, grinning as you pull away from him, sliding down his body to kneel between his long legs, giving you enough space to settle.

“You want to tell me why you were letting her put her hands all over you?” He asks lowly, watching as you hungrily take initiative, hands deftly undoing the buckle of his belt, mouth watering.

“Jealous, Rhys?” You smirk, glancing up at him, using your hand to palm against the prominent shape of him. “You know she was just teasing. She does it with everyone.”

“You’re taken,” he replies lowly, eyes darkening as his hand releases its tight grip on the arm of the chair, fingers sliding through your hair to forcefully pull you closer between his thighs. Wetness pools in your underwear at the dominance. How possessive he can become.

“By who?” You ask, still smiling as your back curves, gripping him as you pull him out, tongue flicking out over your lips. “You’ve never mentioned exclusivity. We aren’t even officially together.”

“You’re still mine.”

“Hmm?” You tilt your head teasingly, pushing against his grip, lessening your hold on him. “This is the first I’m hearing of it?”

“Don’t fucking lie,” he growls, roughly pulling your hair back with both hands so he can hold it all in one fist. “You’re with me. I’m the only one you see when you want pleasure. The only one who can give you pleasure.”

“You are?” You ask, still smiling, “because it felt pretty good to have her hands on me.”

“Because you knew what it would do to me,” he replies roughly. “What I’d do to make sure you learned your lesson.”

“And what lesson is that, High Lord?”

His eyes practically glow with power, feeling as it unspools around you, crackling in the air as tension threads through his shoulders, patience waring thin.

He jerks on your hair roughly, pulling you upward onto your knees, your hands steadying yourself on his hip and thigh, jaw tiled upward as he peers down at you.

“You only need me,” he growls lowly. “I’m everything you could ever want.”

You tilt your chin higher, staring him down, “I’m sure I could find good cock elsewhere,” you say, eyes twinkling, “you aren’t the first, Rhys.”

His smile stretches into a grin, nails scraping across your scalp. “I’ll make you beg before the hour’s done.” Then he’s releasing you, settling calmly back in his chair with malevolent grace—undoubtedly the High Lord.

You watch as he pulls something from his pocket, and your brow furrows as he rolls the condom over himself, irritation perking up before calming again.

“Rhys?” You ask, brows still narrowed, wanting to taste him.

His violet eyes gleam, relaxing into the plush cushion of the chair, thighs parting a little wider, goading your movements. “Yes?”

It’s your turn to grit your jaw, easing in a breath. And he has the audacity to complain about your attitude?

“I’m not sucking you off with a condom on,” you snap, “there’s no fun.”

“This isn’t meant to be fun,” he counters, male arrogance lacing his tone. “This is a lesson, remember?”

“Lessons can be fun,” you snipe, brow twitching with irritation.

“Maybe once they’re learned,” he returns with one raised brow, a cocky smirk on his damned mouth. “Now set to work.”

You scowl, rolling your eyes as you grip him, leaning forward to take him in. Your lips press together, kissing at his tip before laying your tongue over your teeth and lower lip, licking from root to tip.

You halt, swallowing. Blinking.

Above you, Rhys is chuckling lowly, at last tangling his hand in your hair, roughly guiding you back between his legs.

A noise is released from your throat as he fills your mouth, something like a whimper as wild heat flutters in your lower belly as the distinct strawberry flavour bursts across your tongue, mouth watering hungrily, desperate for more.

Rhys watches from above, breathing deeply, tan skin flushed with warmth as he watches you grip him eagerly, licking up the underside of him then reopening your mouth over his head, tongue swirling as you lick, suckle, and swallow him down.

You can’t get enough, greed making you desperate, taking as much of him down your throat as possible, hungry for his pleasure and your own, flicking over his tip as you go up and down.

You whimper when he forcefully pulls you away, a loose thread of saliva curving from your lower lip to his cock. A hot flush is warming your cheeks, breathless from arousal as you meet his hungry eyes dizzily, mouth watering as you move the flavour around.

“Pay attention, darling,” he muses, watching hotly as you mentally fumble. Loving how out of it you look, caught off guard by the play. You seem to like it.

You pull against his hand, anxious to return, to have his cock between your lips, to have that taste on your tongue coupled with the scent of his arousal and weight of him on your tongue.

His grip tightens, and you peer up at him, panic and hunger in your eyes so stark he feels himself twitch at the look alone.

“Want it more now?” He muses, slightly breathless, neither of you entirely in control of yourselves. He’s probably the more aware of the two of you.

“Rhys…” you pant, nails digging into the muscle of his thighs, pulling against his iron grip. Merciless and unforgiving even in the heat of the moment.

“You know the rule,” he breathes, smirking faintly, that arrogant twinkle in his eyes that has you tightening around nothing. “You know how to beg.”

A moan spills from your lips, hips winding independent of will, searching for some kind of friction. “Rhys, please…” you mumble, hardly managing coherency through your haze.

He cocks a brow, waiting for you to continue, knowing he’s got you under his control.

Teeth pull over your lip, eyes flicking over him as you scent his arousal, thick and musky, mixing with that lovely strawberry flavour. “Rhys, please,” you beg breathlessly, “I want you in my mouth. On my tongue. Please.”

He laughs lowly, eyes twinkling with male satisfaction. “That’s better,” he drawls, your lids fluttering at the sonorous timbre. “Have you learned your lesson?”

You nod dumbly, the intensity of his arousal too much to bear, singing to your own.

The corners of Rhys’s mouth quirk in a feline grin, butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach, surprised you aren’t dripping onto the floor. “Good girl.”

Cassian: Cookie Dough

“Cassie!” You call, a note of mischief in your voice, grinning as you find him in your bedroom, trying to shove some weapons into a very full chest of drawers.

His wings twitch, then he’s standing straight, eyes narrowed as he glances over you. “Sweetheart?” He asks cautiously, “what are you after?”

You pad over to him, his large shirt hanging off your shoulders, its hem brushing your thighs as you push him toward the bed. “Do you have a moment?” You ask hotly, arousal warming your skin as you settle your palms over his broad shoulders.

Cassian’s pupils dilate fully as he watches you pull your hair back from your face in a way he recognises, thighs parting wider as he sits back on the bed. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I can make time for it,” he breathes roughly, his arousal making its way up to you.

Your teeth tug on your lower lip with excitement, kneeling between his long, well-muscled legs, hands already fumbling with the ties of his leathers.

“Want to tell me what you’re going to do to me?” He manages, accustomed to the interests he’s frequently subjected to, the various experiments you enjoy using him for. He can’t deny he finds them enjoyable, when your eyes spark with a new idea, and he gets to sit back and enjoy whatever new plan has taken shape in your mind.

“I found a shop recently, that I think I’ll be frequenting,” you smile up at him, mischievous and hungry, eyes flicking away from his as you pull him out, hands gripping him as he likes—an edge of tightness to your touch.

He watches with interest as you pull out the thin foil square, ripping it delicately with your teeth as you pull the condom from its packaging.

You roll it down, and Cassian’s palm cups the nape of your neck, thumb brushing your cheek as you peer up at him. “Please tell me what’s happening?” He requests, tan skin flushed as your hand moves around him, stroking gently—nowhere near enough pressure for him.

“Apparently,” you muse lowly, looking up from between his thighs, “they’re flavoured.”

He raises a thick brow, and you smile sweetly, before leaning forward, examining him, seeing if you notice anything different about it—nothing seems to be changed.

Opening your mouth, you deliver a slow lick to his head, dragging the flat of your tongue over him before pulling away to test the flavour.

Your mouth waters, that pleasant taste of cookie dough making you desperate for another lick.

“Oh, fuck, Cass…” you breathe, stroking him harder.

“You like it?” He pants, gripping your hair in the way you like, free hand fisted in the bedsheets so you can savour the experience.

“Mhmm,” you hum in response, opening your mouth over him again, lips sliding down over his tip, tongue swirling gently, lapping and suctioning as you get more of the flavour, taking him deeper so you can taste more…

“Sweetheart,” he growls, tugging on your hair, pulling you roughly from his cock, a string of saliva connecting from his tip to your lower lip.

It takes a moment for you to focus, but then a hazy smile is playing on your lips, clambering up his body to push your mouth against his, sharing the delicious taste, his tongue stroking against your own.

He groans hotly, and you release a pleasured noise from your chest, fingers tangling in his hair as you push closer to him, breasts pushing against his chest deliciously.

But then you’re pulling away, hungrily moving back down his body, kneeling down and swallowing him eagerly, tongue licking and lapping as you swirl over his tip, taking him as far as possible.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans from above you, not even having to apply force to get you to move in the right way, content to brace himself on the mattress, legs spread to let you work your magic. “So fucking good.”

You moan onto him, pulling off to lick from root to tip, sucking the flavour from the condom, winding your hips needfully.

“Fuck, you can go deeper, can’t you,” he groans, pushing so your nose brushes the dark swirls of hair at his base. “Trying to hold out on me. You should know better by now.”

You try to whimper, but the sound gets caught in your throat, unable to get it past his cock as you shift your tongue that’s pressed flat to the floor of your mouth, arousal dripping between your thighs.

“That’s better,” he groans roughly, “that’s how you fucking take it.”

Your spine curves as his hand grips your hair, slowly dragging you up and down, only occasionally letting you up to breathe, arousal intensifying.

“So fucking good at taking me down that throat of yours, isn’t that right sweetheart?” He groans, pulling you to his tip, allowing you to pause, knowing your jaw will be aching by now.

You whine, pulling against his grip so you can taste him again, but the warrior holds fast, not allowing so much as an inch of leeway.

“Want me back in that filthy mouth of yours, huh?” He manages hotly, cock twitching when you nod, humming eagerly, happy to play along if it gets you what you want. If he wants you to act needy and desperate, you’ll do it.

“Cassie,” you pant, peering up at him with fake innocence, brows curved as you grip him in supplication. “You taste so good.”

The General groans, loud and unabashed, hips bucking as his hold tightens on you. “Fuck, I didn’t even have to tell you to beg, did I? Just did that all on your own.”

You push your tongue out over your lower lip, silently ushering him back, and you tighten around nothing as he groans roughly.

“So well behaved aren’t you?” He moans, bringing you back to his cock, eager to feel that wet heat of your tongue, the tension of your throat around him.

“Well,” he drawls, “when you want to be.”

Azriel: Vanilla

“Az,” you murmur into your glass, concealing others from reading your lips.

Everyone knows his shadows are on you at all times—it’s far from unusual for the darkness to be wrapping carefully around your shoulders, like a black cat draping itself over you in a lazy sprawl.

The shadows flicker to attention and you take a small sip of your drink. “I want you in my mouth.”

The darkness writhes on a miniature level, simply looking like a vibrating mass before pressing tight to your skin, acting more like leather than silk.

Your lips quirk, smiling at whatever everyone else is in your group.

It’s not even minutes later that a presence is settling at your side, a broad palm sliding seamlessly around your waist with a possession that has your insides tingling pleasantly.

You glance up at him, hazel eyes locking with your own, features politely neutral before the large group, despite neither of you being even near the centre of the gathering. It seems Cassian and Feyre are more than happy entertaining the crowd, choosing the direction of conversation for tonight, and it’s fairly effortless to slip away.

Especially given the Spymaster’s area of expertise.

The darkness envelops you as soon as you’re out of the hall, swept up in his shadows as you pass through the night seamlessly, blending into puddles of shadow until you’re transported to the familiar chamber of his bedroom.

“So needful, aren’t you?” He murmurs, a hint of pleasure in his hazel eyes. Knuckles brush against the high of your cheek, and you tilt into his touch. “Food wasn’t good enough for that mouth of yours, huh.”

Teeth prod at your lower lip, pressing against him as you lay your palms over his chest, fingers brushing over the neckline of his shirt. An appetising dip at its hem, able to get a peek at the tan skin beneath, swirls of ink barely visible from where you’re stood.

“Mhmm,” you hum, peering up at him as you apply a light amount of force to his chest, slowly walking him back, as if in a waltz. “Do you have something else I can try?”

“I might have something in mind,” he returns, slightly breathless.

“Uh-huh, like what?” You ask quietly, feeling as he reaches the bed, pushing on his shoulders to get him to sit—he doesn’t need much persuading.

His lips curve with familiar hunger, shadows coming forward and your brows narrow as they push something into your now-opened palm.

“Give that a try for me,” he encourages lowly, and you eye the foil wrapping curiously.

“Vanilla?” You ask, reading the small inscription. A smile curves your lips, peering up at him with a feline glint in your eye. “For me, Az?”

“I know how those celebrations bore you, pretty thing,” he replies, hazel eyes softening as he cups your jaw with both his hands, tilting your upward. “I thought you might enjoy a reward for making it past midnight,” he breathes, “all without complaining once. So good.”

“Say more,” you murmur, between his legs as you slide to your knees, peering up at him with superficial patience—knowing how he likes the control.

He raises a single brow, hands slowly pulling the ties free, deft fingers loosening the tension of his leathers—teasingly; tauntingly slow. “Greedy thing,” he drawls, “do you deserve more? I think I’ve been rather generous.”

Arousal intensifies as he watches your pupils dilate, landing on his cock as he pulls himself free, and you shift on your knees as you make to roll the condom over him, your touch light and gentle—equally provocative.

“I think I’d like to hear more, regardless of whether I’m deserving of it or not,” you reply, hand wrapping around him, slowly pumping, delivering thorough strokes to him as you tilt your chin to meet his hungry gaze.

“Is that right?” He drawls roughly, fingers digging into the sheets to keep from gripping you and using you how he’d like. “What would you like me to tell you, exactly? That you have a filthy mouth? That it’s obscene how fuckable those lips of yours are? How good you feel?”

Your spine curves, kissing up the underside of him before flicking your tongue over his head, gripping his base. Arousal liquefies between your thighs at the deep-throated noise of pleasure he releases as you take him into your mouth.

“That’s it,” he encourages lowly, “so good. Like the taste?”

As he asks, you drag your tongue from root to tip, the flavour light as it fills your senses, heat flushing your skin. You don’t reply, but the way your attention intensifies tells him everything he needs to, even parting his long legs a little wider so you can press closer, swallowing him down, eager to taste and lick and suck.

His hand tangles in your hair, keeping it pulled back from your face as you keep your mouth sealed against his skin, nose skimming his abdomen, tongue rubbing against his underside in a way you know he finds pleasurable.

“Fuck,” he breathes lowly, the curse dragging from deep in his chest, rough and gravelly. “So good with that mouth of yours, aren’t you?”

You whimper onto him, and his hips buck, unable to help himself, a heat flushing your cheeks as a small noise is forced from your throat.

You gaze up at him as you lap up the flavour, suckling at his tip to taste the vanilla, tongue swirling appealingly, colour flushing his cheeks.

“Gods, you’re fucking sinful,” he groans, discipline slipping as he bucks his hips, his movements becoming slightly rougher, control waning as his lust takes over.

You moan onto him in encouragement, split between enjoying being able to have some control over him, being the one to ply it from him, and half wanting him to handle you onto the bed, head just at the edge so he can grip your throat as he fucks your mouth.

Your tongue licks along the underside of him, and his grip tightens on your hair.

Maybe you won’t have to be the one to make that particular decision.

Maybe he can make that choice for you.

Eris: Gingerbread

Eris gives you a look of slight exhaustion, and you grin, padding over to where he’s sat in the grand living room of your shared estate.

“You look tired,” you ask, smiling as you come to a pause between his legs, before setting over one of his thighs, both your legs between his. “Want a reprieve?”

He sighs, hand covering his face as his thumb and fingers rub either side his eyes, as if trying to push back his fatigue.

“You’re far too energised,” he mutters, arm falling away as they settle on the chair, meeting your bright eyes, gleaming in the firelight.

“Come on,” you whine playfully, fingers tracing over his chest, Eris’s amber eyes glancing down as his breathing shallows with the teasing trace. “For me?”

He sighs heavily, and you blink up at him, leaning a little closer.

“It’ll make me happy,” you murmur, smiling mischievously, “and you’ll definitely enjoy it…so why not, right? I just want to try it.”

“Fine.” Eris groans, tension at last vacating his body as he leans back in the plush armchair. “Fine. But this will not happen again, so enjoy it,” he mutters, unable to hide the slightly embarrassed pink on his pale cheeks.

You grin, kissing him on the lips before shifting between his long legs, deft fingers seamlessly working him free in a matter of moments, rolling the condom over him. Eris notes your enthusiasm but says nothing about it, putting his slight embarrassment aside in favour of your pleasure. Ultimately his, too, but you’ve been pestering him about trying this for a while.

Your eyes gleam with mischief as you glance up at him hungrily, and his brows narrow in warning—you shouldn’t get used to this, is what he’s wordlessly telling you. You give him a grin that tells him how easily you can see through his lie.

Eris sighs, resigned to your will as he leans back in his chair. Just his luck that his mate’s persistence would be enough to top even his own will.

“Ready?” You ask, lips curved with feminine delight as satisfaction gleams in your eyes. Arousal is already liquefying between your thighs, excitement pooling in your lower belly.

You don’t wait for a reply, happily leaning forward as you grip him, dragging your tongue from base to tip as you take in the flavour, examining how you feel about it. Arousal intensifies with pleasure, and you eagerly return, mouth and tongue wrapping around him as you take him into your throat hungrily.

Eris grits his teeth, colour flushing his skin as he exhales heavily, relaxing into his chair as you apply yourself to him, hot lips wrapped wetly around his cock as you lick firmly up the underside of him, pausing to suckle at that sensitive part just below his head before dragging the tip of your tongue over his slit.

Your mate groans, arousal swiftly filtrating through his blood, heating his skin with a burning flame as his fingers tangle in your hair, all previous reservations annihilated as he basks in the wet pleasure of your mouth.

Satisfaction has you widening the stance of your thighs, hand slipping between you legs as you sense his enjoyment, fingers running over the dampened fabric of your underwear, swiping over your clit before dipping down to your entrance.

His grip tightens slightly in your hair, liking the feeling of having control while both of you knowing you’re leading. He has no need to guide you when you know the movements that will bring him to release with such familiarity.

“Where did you even find something like this?” He managed to get out, voice deep and slightly raspy.

“Interested in more?” You ask breathlessly, pulling off him to ask but already eager to return, to feel the thick weight of him on your tongue, the flavour in your mouth…

You don’t weight for a reply, instead taking him back into your mouth, moaning onto him as you grip his base, Eris’ fingers tightening soothingly in your hair. Stroking encouragingly as he allows his legs to part a little further in silent offer.

You’d never decline an opportunity with him, and you take him as far as you can manage, throat willingly constricting around him pleasantly, goading his pleasure to the surface as your fingers slip inside yourself.

There’s little better than when he decides to let you enjoy him.

Lucien: Raspberry

“I should have known it would get some ideas into your head,” Lucien remarks as you anxiously push at his back, hurrying both of you to his bedroom.

“It’s only fair,” you reply, pushing him inside and swiftly locking the doors. “Give it.”

Lucien raises a brow, stood in the centre of your shared bedroom, arms folded casually across his chest, the edge of his mouth quirking. “That’s no way to ask your loving husband. Say ‘please, Lucien.’”

Your lower lip pushes out as a slight scowl narrows your brows, frustrated with his antics. “You’re being a pain. Let me try it already,” you whine, walking over to him and settling your hands over his folded arms. “Come on, Lu, you want to try it too, don’t you?”

His russet eye gleams mischievously, lips quirking at their corners as he remains silent, enjoying how your frustration is becoming more palpable. He has to admit it’s a little fun winding you up—you’re adorable. It makes him eager to have you on your knees.

Your scowl deepens but the flush of arousal that’s heating your skin betrays your emotions to him, able to hear the quickened beat of your pulse as your fingertips press into him lightly.

You look up at him begrudgingly. “Please, Lucien.”

Almost instantly you notice how his arousal intensifies, and you yelp when his arms unfold, hands gripping your hips to tug you against him as he pulls you to your bed. “Alright, since you asked so sweetly,” he muses, liking the slight spark of satisfaction in your eye now he’s giving you what you want, handing the thin object over to you.

You take it hastily, glancing at the packaging. “It’s the same flavour as the thing you used on me, right?” You ask, peering at the small type written on the material.

Lucien rolls his eye, though you’re too focused to notice. “Same one. Like you asked me to get about fifty times.”

You nod to yourself then, a small smile playing on your mouth as your gaze softens, and his pulse flutters at the look. It’s endearing how you’re so insistent you do things together in the same way. Every time he does something for you, you’re always so eager to pay him back, to bring him the same feelings he gives to you.

You make quick work of his trousers, swiftly rolling the condom onto him, before glancing up at him with an almost shy heat in your eyes. “You can lie back, if you’d like,” you say softly, “I want you to be comfortable.”

Lucien’s unable to help the smile the curves his lips, pushing some hair behind your ear as he guides you to meet his gaze. “I want to watch,” he admits breathlessly, thumb stroking across the crest of your cheek adoringly. “You look so pretty with your mouth around me.”

Your thighs press together as you lean into his touch briefly, before wrapping your hand around his base, guiding him to your mouth. Almost immediately you can pick out the raspberry flavour and you hum with pleasure, licking over him hungrily, suckling at his tip before taking him all the way down, gently stroking what you can’t yet reach.

Above you, Lucien groans softly, hand gently gripping your hair though it’s more for reassurance than to have control. You know what to do and how to please him, there’s no need for him to guide you.

You enjoy your freedom anyway, swirling the tip of your tongue around him as you lap up the flavour contentedly, his arousal becoming more and more prominent by the second.

“Gods, you should be able to see yourself,” Lucien breathes, almost to himself. “So pretty, aren’t you? So good to me.”

You glance up shyly from between his legs, both of you knowing what words like that do to you, your hand remaining gently stimulating him while your mouth is away.

“You still enjoy it?” You ask quietly, and the question is sincere enough he can’t help but smile.

“I’ll enjoy you for the rest of my life,” he murmurs tenderly, again stroking him thumb across your cheek. “No matter what.”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

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[mugentakeda]

scoring a job at the tea shop was too easy. but now that he’s staring at bowl of jasmine flowers next to the black blend, it might have been a dumb idea. it’s not busy enough to numb his stupid brain.

the owner, mr. dugu, a short middle aged man with greasy long hair, was all too happy to hire him. we could use a looker like you, it’ll bring all the women in!

lu ten thinks back to zhao and jiro in dismay. he highly doubts his love life will ever heal itself back to normalcy. azula would agree with that.

it’s probably for the best that zhao doesn’t know where i am, he muses, but jiro would probably try and send me money.

now that he thinks about it, mr. dugu kind of reminds him of jiro. just a few decades older, and in green. a slick and stout guy that thinks he’s all that and a bag of fireflakes. so slick, you wouldn’t see the earnest, hard working gentleman hidden beneath at first.

but his dad is in there too. with the crows feet, receding hairline, deep tea scent, big hands. laughter in his eyes, at just about anything.

in the tea shop, however, his dad is everywhere he looks. his dad is the smells, the old tea cup rings stained in the tables, every sun ray shining through the windows, the cheap peeling wallpaper with painted leaves floating in the wind.

is it betrayal, what he’s done? or is he just dying on the hill of what his gut tells him is right?

he’s forcing his heart and his gut to become one, so he can physically stand loving his father, but not liking his father, simultaneously. letting them both exist together, at the same time. it’s not life ruining or earth shattering. it just… is.

lu ten misses the parts of his dad that he enjoyed, with great guilt. the roughhousing, the morning meditation, a warm hand brushing through his feathery hair, carrying him to bed after a long day at the beach, dropping his bags and letting lu ten barrel into his arms at full force after weeks being gone, bickering over the do’s and don’ts of tea. things got spotty and more spaced out once he turned double digits, because at that point lu ten was old enough to go longer without seeing his father. he was a busy guy and lu ten had been okay with that. he’s never been someone that needed constant attention, anyway.

but those parts were only enough to satisfy the young lu ten who didn’t care what his dad was outside of being his dad. then his aunt was married into the family, and lu ten started caring about a whole lot of things.

his aunt and his cousins give him purpose. what would he be, without them? they shape his interests, his entire worldview, his habits, his sense of self. the areas of politics and legislation that he dipped his toes in as a prince were even influenced by them. he tells right from wrong by wondering, if it was your aunt and your cousins, would you be okay with it?

what ursa went through after having azula haunted his dreams. the afterbirth stench, her hyperventilating, hoarse wails. the fire sages and azulon and ozai all muttering to each other, just to add to the chaos. he’d gripped little zuko to his chest in the dark corridor across from her chambers like a vice, biting his lip in terror and cheeks flushing as hot tears rolled down his face. it was the worst thing he’d ever heard in his life, and nobody seemed to care.

then he finds out that his mother went through the same thing with him over morning tea with his grandfather. casually, like he was being informed of the weather.

she believed she had the right to name you toshiro, despite not showing any enthusiasm over you at any other time of day, azulon had grunted. i don’t know why he ever bothered with that commoner wretch. you’d still have a mother today if he hadn’t picked some halfwit dancer with a smart mouth, you know. i even went through the trouble of setting up a whole line of good, wellborn women right before him, and he didn’t entertain a single one! but i suppose it doesn’t matter now, seeing the fine young man you’ve become regardless. i was afraid you’d inherit her crassness, if you’ll forgive me.

so she got sick of the shit and disappeared. to this day, he barely knows what to do with that information.

he hates ozai for doing the same shit to his aunt that his own father did to his mom. forced, unwanted marriage. the pain and misery of childbirth. postpartum. making heirs. he fucking hates that word. heirs.

toshiro. it’s a good name.

he’d leave his dad if he were his mother, too. he did leave his dad.

mr. dugu asked after hiring him if he was a soldier, going by his posture. he’s no earthbender, and the scars are from trial and error lightning bolts. but there are nonbenders in the earth army, and lu ten can put his mouth where the money is when given a staff. so he says yes.

that must be why i like you so much, mr. dugu had sighed. my own boy is a little older than you and lives in ba sing se with his old lady, as a teacher in a little kid’s school. he’s a bender, so he enlisted to help fight- but that stubborn old prince bastard is persistent. you know the ash and blood is filthying their water? his old lady is pregnant, and she has no clean water to drink. it’s unbelievable! but that ashmaker doesn’t realize how steadfast the good people of the earth kingdom are. the spirits will deliver them, and he’ll tuck his tail between his legs and run for the hills.

filthy water also means sick livestock. and sick livestock means sick people when the livestock is eaten. sick people means sick mothers and children, and sick doctors that can’t help sick pregnant mothers give birth. and then ba sing se is cut off from incoming supplies due to his father’s army, so they’re probably rationing the medicine. so sick pregnant mothers giving birth without proper medicine, without proper doctors because they’re also all sick. that leads to dying mothers, dying newborns, or mothers and newborns dying together.

lu ten just isn’t sure his father realizes little stuff like that. or maybe he does, and just doesn’t care. and that thought makes him so angry, he doesn’t even know what to do with himself.

his father had acted like all that was happening in the impenetrable city was something funny in his letters. along with a couple of thinly veiled pleads for lu ten to quit being stubborn and join him already.

narrow, ignorant self-interest does not impress him. its ugly coming from his own father. its even uglier on a man that’s supposed to lead their fucking country one day. lu ten will not be the same. the people he loves most in this world cannot afford for him to be the same.

you have a savvy for diplomacy, zhao had snapped at him. your father could use something like that. what’s keeping you here? don’t you see benefits waiting to be reaped from this? your cousins will still be here when your father succeeds! get over yourself!

“diplomacy,” lu ten sneers out loud. then sighs loudly in frustration when he knocks the cup over with a jerky hand.

one minute ba sing se is being taken by his dad so it can become one with the fire nation. the next minute he’s burning it to the ground. if it’s the fire nation, why in the all fuck is he ruining it? is that not counter-productive? is that not hypocrisy? what diplomacy is there to be had when there’s nothing left of the city?

but then, people on the homeland get arrested for some real petty shit. the colonial towns get paid dust. his dad killed the last dragon, despite a good portion of lu tens childhood folktales composing of dragons. despite agni herself being depicted as a dragon. a million things that he never questioned before that make no sense to him now that he has the freedom and time to truly ponder.

the spirits are not to be trifled with or questioned, my son. the spirits can even judge the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.

lu ten isn’t a man who claims to know the spirits ways, nor does he question them. he wasn’t there when they laid foundation to the earth. he doesn’t know who determined its measurements. but he does know that agni wouldn’t deliver a message so stupid and pointless.

he just questions his father, and the authenticity of his pointless quest to flatten a city being spirit-sent.

what do you wanna bet he used the wrong kind of flower for his tea and was just tripping balls?

the more he thinks about it the less grace his train of thought is willing to spare.

he’s so mad that he can’t like his dad. he’s so mad that he exists at the cost of his mother’s everything. he’s so mad that everything his proud, beautiful country stands on and believes in has the strength of a single grain of rice. he can’t bare the thought of just continuing to ignore it to maintain his sanity- he’s never been so glad to be an adult with a brain and not a kid in his own little world- but realizing things is so painful. its only ever painful. he wants to curl up in a ball and rot away. the guilt and anger is mind numbing.

do you think of me with as much frustration as i think of you, dad? do you sit and ruin your own day trying to understand what goes on in my head, or is it just me?

the fumes from the boiling teapot steam his face as he bends over it slowly, trying to curb the acid crawling up his throat like a demon emerging from hell. static curls up and down his arms and brings his hair straight up, the heat bleeding from the tips of his fingers and his palms into the counter is teetering on the edge of unbearable-

“cousin?” a little voice startles him out of his thoughts.

he pauses, and turns his head.

zuko’s standing there in front of mr. dugu, who’s grinning at him cheekily.

zuko is wearing a green apron that drags on the floor. the anger building in his chest melts like chocolate over a fire. the counter is already cooling beneath his steel grip.

“…li,” he greets, weak humor in his voice. “what’s shaking?”

the kid flushes. “i got bored and walked here from mom’s work. and mr. dugu said no loitering in his store. so i’m….. hired.”

“are you a seasonal employee?” lu ten snorts.

“i don’t even know what that means,” zuko replies curtly. he doesn’t realize his sass definitely matches azula’s. “i can bring the tea to the customers.”

“well,” lu ten sighs, “i believe i’ve scalded the hell out of this jasmine by accident. give me a few minutes and i’ll happily provide you with something drinkable.”

“…do better!” his baby cousin orders awkwardly. and so he does, because lu ten is only ever the loyal servant to his baby cousins.

zuko brings the tea to the customers. every time lu ten hears his lispy little voice thank them for their patronage in monotone, he can’t help the way his lips quirk in amusement.

“the girls in the front kept baby-talking me,” his little cousin grumps later that day. “i had to run away before they got the chance to pinch my face.”

mr. dugu laughs, and pats zuko’s little shoulder heartily. lu ten’s heart aches. he can think he hates ignorance until the sheep-cows come home, but there’s nothing crueler than seeing his father in this man’s mannerisms, who’s son could be dead or alive at this very moment, due to his father in question.

“just be glad your sister wasn’t here to see it,” he replies, lest he choke himself up with his own angsting.

zuko huffs and slides off the chair he’d been sitting crosslegged on. “mr. dugu, could i take some cakes from the back to my sister? she’s a sweet tooth.”

“it’ll be coming out of your paycheck,” the man replies teasingly.

zuko frowns like a cranky owlcat. “i don’t know what that word means either.” and with that, he stomps to the back.

“that one’s a trip alright,” mr. dugu laughs. “and you say the younger one is even worse?”

“sure is,” lu ten sighs happily. “they both are the worst. i’m wrapped around their greedy little fingers. they don’t let me hold the house keys, but they’ll let me buy them candy.”

“it’ll be like that forever,” mr. dugu says sagely. “my only son is now a grown man with a wife of his own, and soon, he’ll make me a grandfather. but at the end of the day, he’s always gonna be my precious boy. my baby. and no matter what, i want him to always know he can come back home to me. despite everything. no matter what.”

the man deflates suddenly. “if anything, i might just beg him to come back home to me, once ba sing se chases that scumbag away. i have enough room to house the three of them. my boy lives and breathes to be a teacher in the city, but this old heart can’t take not knowing….”

he trails off, and pushes over a rock with his foot glumly. “they say he has children, too. the fire nation prince attacking the city, i mean.”

lu ten’s blood turns to ice in an instant.

“i doubt one such as he would feel anything if he lost them. if a man can kill another man’s child, i believe he’d might as well kill his very own. and this father would protect every child in this village as his own. you, and your little monster cousins. you know?”

agni is a big blurry dot in his vision, and he swallows hard. “yeah. yeah, i do. this one thanks you for it.”

he holds zuko’s little hand tighter than usual as they go to pick ursa and azula up from the florist.

[iamthecomet]

Comet, I love your writing almost as much as I love w o m e n.

That said, y'know what I feel like we're missing?

Scissoring/tribbing content.

I, personally, need the ghoulettes to rub their junk together IMMEDIATELY! *slams fist on desk*

HAPPY FEMSLASH FEBRUARY!!! (I knew I saved this ask for literal months for a reason). Almost 1k of Cumulus/Aurora scissoring. Because W O M E N.

Cumulus is breathless. Cheeks flushed dark, sweat beading on her temples. Her usually immaculate curls are a mess of frizz and sweat. She’s bathed in warm early morning light. Spread out like a meal on top of her plush comforter. Sunlight catching in the gauzy canopy above them, diffusing the light over her face. Aurora might think she was angelic if that wasn’t so blasphemous. 

Just looking at her like this takes Aurora’s breath away. She pauses, tongue pressed against Cumulus’ clit, feeling it twitch against her. She can’t take it anymore. She needs more. 

She pulls herself up from between Lus’ legs. Wiping her slick lips off on the back of her hand as she surges up. Slotting herself between Cumulus’ thighs, chests pressed together, so Aurora can kiss her. Can lick past her plush lips that still taste like her lavender chapstick. So she can feed Cumulus the taste of herself and feel the way the air ghoulette melts beneath her. 

Cumulus always likes to take things slow, but Aurora doesn’t want to slow down. Doesn’t know how. She laces her fingers into Cumulus’ sweaty curls and kisses her in a way that demands. Teeth dragging over Lus’ lips, consuming. Aurora presses against her like she wants to crawl inside of Cumulus’ skin. Cumulus holds her close. Dragging a warm hand down her spine, over the curve of her ass. She hitches Aurora up a little, enough that Aurora’s thigh brushes against the slick heat of Cumulus’ cunt. 

Aurora pulls back, breathless, lips swollen. Dizzy. The taste of Cumulus still on her tongue. 

“More,” she whispers. Fingers clenching in Lus’ curls. Trying to keep the whine out of her voice. She doesn’t need to beg, Lus won’t make her. But it’s hard not to sometimes, when she wants so much, so fast, so desperately. 

“I know, little bird,” Cumulus says, shifting, pushing herself further up the bed. Reaching her free hand up to cradle Aurora’s face. Thumb stroking over a warm cheekbone. Aurora knows how she must look. Hair mused, eyes glassy already. She hasn’t even been touched yet. Just drooling slick onto Cumulus quilt while she ate her out. Willing herself not to sneak a hand down to rub at her own clit while Cumulus writhed on her tongue. 

But she’s been good. She aches with it. She doesn’t know what she wants or how to ask for it, she just knows she wants to be close. She wants everything. 

Cumulus guides her, settling Aurora back so she’s sitting on the bed between Lus’ legs again. Cumulus hooks a leg over one of Aurora’s hips, presses her foot into the meat of her ass and pulls, urging her forwad. 

“Lean back, baby. Spread your legs.” 

Aurora listens. She’s watched this before. Seen Mist and Sunshine fuck like this, Cirrus and Cumulus too. But she hasn’t done it–hasn’t known how to ask. She inches herself forward, leans back on her hands. 

The first slide catches her clit right against Cumulus’ and she could sob. Head tipping back as Cumulus guides their rhythm. An easy languid glide, that makes every nerve in Aurora’s body light on fire. She presses forward, looks for more, rolls her hips in a counter rhythm. She bites her lip to keep from whining too loudly. Her eyes flutter closed, but as soon as they do Cumulus’ hand is on her face again, fingers tapping against her cheekbone. “Open your eyes, little bird, watch.” 

Aurora can’t help but obey, eyes flicking open to stare at Cumulus’ face, her lips parted, breath coming in uneven pants. She lets her eyes fall, over Cumulus’ tits, swaying with each slow grind, and then further to the space they’re connected. Watching her clit slide through Cumulus’ folds. Gasping as Cumulus shifts just a little and they slot against each other. 

“I need–”Aurora pants. She digs her fingers into the bed. It’s not enough.The slow languid glide is decadent but not enough. 

Cumulus dips her thumb between Aurora’s parted lips, hooks it behind her bottom teeth. Aurora looks at her, meets her gaze against the line of their bodies. Sweaty and pleasured flushed. Aurora’s thighs shake, she shudders with each pass. Desperate, sanity slipping through her fingers as Cumulus holds her head in place. 

“Take whatever you need, no one’s stopping you.” 

Permission granted. Aurora groans. She presses into her hands and fucks against Cumulus the way she really wants to. Quick humps that grind their clits together. Pressing hers against Cumulus’ pubic bone and chasing the spark of pleasure building at the base of her spine. 

It’s quick. It’s always quick once Aurora gets going. She can’t help it. Be it how new she is to this body, this pleasure, or just the way she’s built, it’s always like this. She cannot prolong her own pleasure–not when she’s allowed to chase it. 

She cums with a shout, elbows nearly giving out. Clit twitching hard against the warm slick of Cumulus’ folds. She’s lost in it. In this feeling of being so close, so consumed. Cumulus pulls her thumb from Aurora’s mouth, smears drool across her cheekbone. Aurora catches her breath, vision clearing. She starts to shift, but Cumulus stops her with a hand on her thigh. 

“Don’t move.” 

Aurora looks at her, brow furrowed. She’d planned to throw Cumulus’ legs over her shoulders, to suck her clit into her mouth and make her cum so hard she cried. Cumulus smiles at her, too sweet to be entirely innocent. 

“It’s my turn,” Cumulus rolls her hips, Aurora twitches with overstimulation, thighs shuddering. “Let me use you.”

[bluenpjm]

CLOUD9 AGENCY ☁ JJK X OC

Ⓒ bluenpjm — all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

synopsis.  faced with decisions that can change the course of her career, the art director of the cloud9 agency decides it is time to act and reignite the flame she had once lost. and all because of an intern… genre.  non-idol au ; slice of life au ; intern!jungkook ◦ fluff ◦ angst ◦ smut pairing.  JJK x OC rating.  M wordcount. 4.8K warnings.  foul words, sad vibes and life not making sense, drinking, arguing, lying, just a lot of different feelings!  a/n.  after months without being able to form a sentence, I couldn't be more pleased to be able to continue this series. to everyone waiting, thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this rollercoaster! chapters. 4 — 5 — 6

Just as he had promised, Jungkook texted Carolina the day after. He continued doing so the day after that, and the one that came next. Slowly but swiftly, he attained Carolina’s friendship back. 

Some days, their exchanges would be as simple as the man sending something funny he saw online. Others, especially when the messages deepen into the night, they would text for hours. They had comfortably conquered a perfect streak ever since that day in Carolina’s apartment. 

Today, however, Carolina hadn’t had the opportunity to reply to Jungkook’s message. In fact, her head was in a twist over the message he had sent her the night before. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. Let’s hang out. She was up for it, no doubt. But she already had plans that were impossible to cancel. And if she said so, he would ask. Jungkook was as curious as he was shameless. So, she struggled between simply pretending she didn’t see the message and unequivocally not telling the truth. 

Could it really be considered misleading if she was omitting information? In Carolina’s textbook, yes, omitting information was, indeed, a synonym for a bad thing. 

Inside Carolina’s apartment, the energy is a mix of anticipation and enthusiasm as she and her friends busy themselves preparing for Jae’s surprise birthday party. Their situation over the last month had turned… complicated, to say the least. It somewhat resembled the chaos that had taken over her home. 

Balloons in various colors cover every available surface, some swaying gently in the air while others lazily drift on the floor. 

Deo had done the favor of gracelessly opening up yet another bag of balloons, despite the ones unattended at the table, with such force that resulted in them spilling all over, creating a small hazard that Hyori rushed to solve. Lu and Sarah were neatly hanging streamers crisscrossed along the walls, filling the room with bursts of color. They had also raided Carolina’s stash of fairy lights, draping them around the room like twinkling stars, the perfect feed photos already forming in their minds. 

A makeshift photo booth had been set up in one corner, complete with an assortment of quirky props and a backdrop adorned with glittering stars and shimmering curtains. “This is going to be a great makeout spot,” Deo muses as she admires the final result, the old curtains brushing on the floor providing full privacy inside.

“My room is off limits,” Carolina says loud and clear for the room of single ladies. 

“Noted,” Sarah pretends to take a pad and pen from her jeans back pocket and scribble on it. “Hookups on the balcony and bathroom only.” 

“And photo booth,” Lu adds with a smirk. 

“Kitchen counter could also be a good spot.” Hyori's giggle sounds far more innocent than her statement and if the girls in the room hadn’t been acquainted with her already, they would be shocked as the words didn’t match the delicate and innocent features of the girl.

The owner of the apartment can’t help but laugh at the witty comebacks of her friends. Drifting away from the photo booth, her gaze wanders deeper into the living room. There’s still a soft smile adorning her features as she surveys the space around her. She’s pleased with what they had done so far, but something was still missing. Determined, she approaches the coffee table, hands reaching out to grasp its edges, only to be met by another pair. 

“Let me help you,” Lu’s smile reaches her eyes as they carry out the one-person job. 

Removing the coffee table opens up the space for people to move around the sofa and as they rest it near the corner, their hands fall to their hips, admiring their not-so-hard work. Carolina purposely ignored Lu's curious stare on her, focusing instead on the task at hand. However, Lu's intuition couldn't be ignored for long. 

“What's up?” Lu asks, her voice soft, contrasting against the backdrop of laughter and chatter. Their eyes met briefly and the girl senses there’s something on Carolina’s mind. “You seem a little lost—more than usual, at least.” 

Carolina hesitates for a moment, her smile faltering slightly before she replies, "All good. Just thinking about how to make sure everyone has a good time tonight." Her attempt at reassurance fell a little short.

“You guys okay?” Lu's question hangs in the air.

“Oh, yeah! Peachy,” Carolina tries to brush off the concern, knowing that the photographer would see right through her. The room was too crowded and if a single word from this conversation was caught by any of the other girls present, Carolina would be in trouble. Although everyone meant well, she did not feel like chatting about this right now—or ever, for a matter of fact. 

“I won’t press…” Lu sighs, helpless, sensing Carolina’s discomfort. “But you know I’m here.” 

The last sentence is barely heard as Deo’s voice calls out from the kitchen. Seizing the opportunity, Carolina steps away. 

“Thank God,” Carolina whispers as she reaches the youngest in the room. “What do you need?” 

Ignoring the initial comment, Deo goes straight to the point, “We’re out of ice. You should text one of the boys so they can bring it.” 

“Why don’t you do it?” Carolina raises her eyebrows, suddenly amused. “You have Hobi’s number.” 

“I am currently in the process of getting over him and the feelings I made up in my mind. If you want all your drinks to be warm, don’t ask for ice.” The passive-aggressive phrase is accompanied by an all-aggressive smile. “Also, can I borrow your phone to put on some music? Mine’s about to die.” 

Carolina nods and Deo takes the phone. The owner of the device notices as she texts Hobi first before searching for the music app. She rolls her eyes fondly at the stubbornness of her friend. “You should at least give him a chance.” 

“Mind your own business,” Deo sings as her eyes scan through the playlists. “He’ll be nothing but trouble.” 

As Deo’s about to return the phone, a new notification pops up, immediately catching their attention. jjk.97 sent you a video slides on her screen, a silent reminder of the text that was pending an answer from her end. Despite the turmoil, Carolina suppresses the urge to scream.

Deo remains silent as she waits for action. Just a few nights ago, they had discussed this whole Jungkook and Jae situation. On one side, the latter was dependable and gentle, a signal of safety that Carolina had started to enjoy. He was a sort of human Golden Retriever that always seemed to make her days better. On the other side, though, loomed Jungkook. Despite the pain that Carolina had somewhat managed to forget, Jungkook still had the power to evoke butterflies with his simple, albeit silly, texts. 

Without exchanging a single word, Carolina silently navigates through her phone settings, silencing all notifications from Jungkook for the next 12 hours. Her heart feels a little lighter. 

“Let’s see if that’ll be enough to take him off your mind,” Deo sticks out her tongue before disappearing into the living room. 

“Brat,” Carolina shakes her head before moving into the living room and continuing the preparations for the party. 

Not too far from Carolina’s kitchen, Jungkook was at his friends’ apartment. The room’s loud, filled with laughter and chatter from the two tenants, but if he had to be honest with the pair, he hadn’t heard a single word for the past half hour. Sitting on the edge of the couch, phone in hand, Jungkook had been scrolling through TikTok. He would always do this, but he had spent today’s watch time in stealth mode, carefully selecting the best ones to send to Carolina. Their chats would leave the message apps just to be continued on the video platform and he loved it. Teasing Carolina with videos had easily become one of his favorite hobbies and it was his way of keeping the conversation alive, of staying connected to her. 

Today, however, there was no response. For the millionth time, he unlocks his phone and glances at his messages. No reply and no bubble signaling typing. She had left him on read and it was gnawing at him. He missed her. He wanted to see her. And he was too close to throw a tantrum. 

Of course, every possible scenario had crossed his mind. At first, he assumed she was busy. She fell asleep during their conversation last night and today had a packed schedule. It had happened before. But then he got to thinking about whether something was wrong. And after he had gone through all the probabilities, he started to freak out. Was she avoiding him? 

Jungkook’s fingers hovered over his phone screen, contemplating sending another message, when he was jolted back to reality by a sudden snap. Jimin’s fingers were right in his face. 

“Hey, what do you think, JK?” Jimin asked, his eyes searching his for a response. 

“Huh?” He sinks onto the couch and finds Taehyung looking at him as well. “I wasn’t listening.” 

“The plan for tonight,” Jimin clarifies, raising an eyebrow. He hated when he had to repeat himself. “You’ve been zoning out for a while now.” 

“Yeah, sorry man.” Jungkook runs a hand through his hair. “I was just… thinking.” 

“About the art director?” Taehyung is quick on his feet. He might’ve forgotten the girl’s name, but he sure was curious to know more about her. She got Jungook talking about his feelings out in the open and that was a first in the long years they’ve been friends. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook smiles sheepishly just thinking about her and immediately regrets letting his guard down as his friends’ eyes widen and they suddenly become interested in whatever kind of confession could come out of his mouth. “I just… haven’t heard from her all day.” 

“Oh, I remember her!” Jimin remarks but he lies. Regardless, he’s excited. “So, what’s the deal with you two? You like her, she likes you..?” 

Jungkook hesitates, glancing at his phone again as if waiting for some sort of rescue from it. “Well, we’ve been texting a lot. And I think we got a good thing going. But it’s still unclear.” 

Taehyung crossed his arms over his chest after ditching his phone that wouldn’t stop ringing on the coffee table. “So, what are you waiting for? A signed letter of forgiveness? Maybe she’s just busy today and didn’t have the time.” He gets up, rilled up after seeing Jungkook so sadly slouching his shoulder. “Why not just drop by?” 

“What?” Jimin and Jungkook ask at the same time, confused. 

As Taehyung strides from one side of the room to the other, his hand falls into his pocket, an idea forming in his head. “Yeah, grab her some flowers or some food and drop by.”

“What about our plans?” Jimin whines and Taehyung is quick to dismiss him. 

“I don’t know man. I don’t want to come off as too pushy or desperate.” Plus, Jungkook knows that Carolina most likely wouldn’t dig the flowers. 

“Dude, you miss her right? Sometimes, you gotta go for it.” 

Jimin nods in agreement. “Sometimes all they’re waiting for is a gesture. So, show up and tell her how you feel. It’s been more than time.” 

Jungkook looks between his two friends, their excitement infectious. And if he stopped to think about it, it hadn’t been the first time that showing up unannounced to Carolina’s apartment had paid off. “You really think so? What if she’s got plans?” 

Taehyung’s phone buzzes on the table again. “Jesus Christ man, who’s trying to catch you?” Jimin comments annoyed at the noise before turning his attention to Jungkook again. “You just gotta roll with it. At least she’ll see you’re serious about wanting to spend time with her.” 

Jungkook exhales, “Alright. Maybe, I will.” 

“Atta boy!” Taehyung claps him on the shoulder, smirking. “Just be yourself. She already likes you, man.” 

“Yeah—yeah, you’re right!” Chest filled with his inflated ego, Jungkook smiles confidently. “I’ll drop by her place later.” 

Jimin cheers, throwing his hands up. “That’s the spirit! Now, let’s finish this game, and then you can go win your girl.”

As the game resumes, Taehyung adds, “And remember, if all else fails, just be extra charming. It works for me... sometimes.”

Jimin grins, “And bring food. Everybody loves food.”

The banter continues and Jungkook, amongst the sound of laughter, the buzz of the city outside, and the support of his friends, starts to believe that maybe—just maybe—tonight could be the night he finally tells Carolina how he feels. 

Electricity can be felt in the air as everyone rushes to hide. The sound of hushed whispers and stifled giggles fills Carolina’s apartment, blending with the soft rustle of fabric as friends duck behind couches and crouch next to the available furniture. 

Carolina’s heart raced widely from the moment she got Jae’s call. She’d lied effortlessly, telling him that, as per usual, she was running late and invited him to wait inside. It was a white lie, but still, it had left her nervous. In reality, she had been nervous about this party and her feelings for Jae for some time now. Everything was a whirlwind of emotions that made her head spin and made her feel lost. The silence in the apartment was almost oppressive, the only sound Carolina was able to make out was her own shallow breathing and the pulse pounding in her ears. 

Jae knocks on the door, and Carolina feels like her heart is going to leap out of her chest. She quickly opens it, the darkness inside the apartment swallowing him up as he steps in. For a brief moment, it’s like the world freezes. Then, in a synchronized shout, everyone screams, “Surprise!” 

The lights are immediately flicked on, revealing the grinning faces of friends and the vibrant decorations hung around the room. Jae’s eyes widened in genuine surprise, his face lighting up with a joy that made Carolina’s heart swell. Everyone in the room can tell that he is touched by the gesture, and his smile is infectious. 

Without hesitation, the birthday boy crosses the room and pulls Carolina into a tight embrace. As his lips met hers, the world seemed to tilt slightly. The kiss was everything one would expect from a rom-com—passionate and heartfelt—, yet something’s missing for Carolina. The room erupts into cheers and Hyori swoons the hardest right by Namjoon’s side. 

Carolina can hear the whoops and hollers, the clapping and laughter, but it all feels distant, like background noise. With her mind racing, she notices how Jae’s kiss is warm and soft, his hands gentle as they cupped her face. She is aware of the dozens of eyes on them and it makes her feel exposed and vulnerable in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Breaking the kiss slightly before Jae does, Carolina’s cheeks are flushed not just from the kiss but from the intense scrutiny of the audience. “Let’s drink!” The hostess tries to act nonchalantly and Jae looks at her with a mix of happiness and adoration, oblivious to her inner conflict. He’s beaming, clearly thrilled by the surprise and the kiss, while Carolina forces a smile, hoping to match his enthusiasm.

The party quickly shifts into full swing. Laughter and chatter fill the apartment as drinks are poured and people mingle. The living room is a blur of color, the decorations the girls had worked so hard on during the afternoon glittering under the lights. The sound of clinking plastic glasses and upbeat music create a backdrop to the best surprise party of the year. 

Carolina found herself slowly relaxing as she moved through the party while making sure everyone was having a good time. Deo, Hyori, Sarah, and Lu soon gather around the karaoke machine, pulling her with them. 

The opening notes of Wannabe by Spice Girls fill up the room. 

Deo took the lead, carrying out the iconic lines shamelessly after only a couple of drinks in her system. Hyori and Sarah danced along, their voices harmonizing perfectly. Lu added her own flair to the performance, twirling and striking poses that had everyone laughing. Carolina joined in but mostly with her phone, as this was a moment she did not want to forget and needed to record it.

Meanwhile, the other guests enjoy drinks and chatting in small groups. The photo booth, as predicted, was a hit. A couple stumbles out of it, laughing and clutching a strip of photos, their faces red from the flash and the drinks. The party’s alive with energy. 

As the song comes to an end, the room erupts into applause. And, of course, Carolina and her friends took exaggerated bows, their faces flushed with laughter and exhilaration. Carolina is quick to pass the microphone to the next singers as her body slumps onto the couch with Lu and Sarah by her side, their laughter still ringing in their ears. They lean back, slightly breathless. 

“That was amazing! I felt like I was 15 again,” Lu giggles, eyes sparkling with excitement. 

Sarah nods, still catching her breath. “I still can’t believe I remember the lyrics. We should form our own Spice Girls tribute band.” 

Carolina laughs, outfits already forming in her mind to fit every one of the girls. “We’d be a hit at every party.” 

Lu grins, nudging Carolina with her elbows. “Speaking of hits, this party is fantastic. Look at everyone having such a great time. You did an incredible job organizing it.” 

Carolina smiles and looks around the party. She easily spots Jae across the room, chatting warmly with Namjoon and Hyori who had run back into the latter boy’s arms. Meanwhile, Deo and Hobi had lost themselves on the balcony, taking cute pictures together, their giggles so loud they occasionally drifted back inside. “Thanks, Lu.” 

“You really nailed it, Cece,” Sarah adds, leaning back with a satisfied sigh as she too adored her hard work. “This is exactly what Jae needed.” 

Carolina nodded, taking in her words. “I’m glad everyone’s having a good time. I’m going to grab a drink from the kitchen.” 

As Carolina returns to her friends, cup in hand, she notices something amiss. The front door to her apartment is swung open, a crude light ruining the party’s ambient. Jae is standing there, looking into the apartment with a curious expression. Standing in the doorway, looking equally confused, was Jungkook, his face twisted into an awkward smile. 

“Oh shit,” Carolina’s heart skips a beat, a sick feeling washing over her as she rushes to them. The two boys who had taken over her heart were facing each other without even knowing who the other was. She felt a lump form in her throat as she approached them. 

“What’s up, guys?” She does her best to sound casual despite the rising panic. 

Jae turns to her, a puzzled look on her face. “I was just about to come find you. Heard someone knock, and then found him at the door.” 

Jungkook’s smile falters slightly as he looks between Carolina and Jae. “I tried calling but couldn’t reach you. I didn’t know you were having a party,” He tilts his head slightly and Carolina can tell that he’s trying his best to understand everything happening inside her apartment. “Just dropped by to see how you were doing.” 

“Come on in, man! It’s my birthday and this lovely lady over here decided to surprise me.” Jae side-hugs Carolina, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. 

“Good thing I brought this, then!” Jungkook hands a bottle to Jae without even looking at him. His eyes are laser-focused, trying to burn into Carolina. She never mentioned this guy before and a million questions were starting to form in his mind. “Happy birthday—”

“Jae.”

“Jungkook.” 

They shake hands, the tension palpable as their eyes meet briefly. 

“So, how do you know each other?” Jae asks as Jungkook enters and closes the door behind him. 

At that moment, Deo appears, her eyes widened by the sudden sight. Before Carolina can even begin to form a word, Deo swings her arm around Jungkook’s and says in the most friendly tone possible, “Through me! JK and I are long-time friends. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone!”

Deo quickly leads Jungkook into the party, her arm still looped through his. Carolina only has time to trade some glances with Deo, silently thanking her for the quick save, before Jae steals her attention yet again. 

“Great guy!” Jae is chipper, oblivious to who Jungkook is and what he means to Carolina.

At that moment, it was like time stopped and the lump in Carolina’s throat had gotten so big that it was keeping her from breathing. Things were already bad—she didn’t like the fact that she had been masking it for the past weeks, and now amplified by Deo’s well-intentioned but ultimately disastrous lie, it was gnawing at her insides. She felt like she was about to explode. Her mind was rushing with thoughts and emotions, each one more overwhelming than the last. 

Ultimately, Carolina’s biggest wish was to march up to Jae and tell him the truth—about Jungkook, about the lie Deo had just plastered in their faces, about them, and her feelings. She wanted to clarify that, although they’d been having fun and he was a great guy, it wasn’t fun anymore. Yet, to have her peace of mind, she would have to ruin the party—the party that she had painstakingly planned. She had planned every detail to ensure Jae had the perfect birthday, and now it was all teetering on the brink of disaster. 

Putting on a brave face, she plasters a smile and nods along as she finally loses Deo and Jungkook in the crowd. But inside, she was unraveling. Pretending that someone had called her, she quickly excused herself, “I’ll be right back,” she said, her voice strained but steady. “Go have fun.”

Carolina refuges herself in the kitchen. Out of all the places at the party, it was the quietest, and finally, she’s able to let out the breath she had been holding. It’s shaky and she tries to dig her nails into the napkins. The facade drops and she feels the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Bringing her cup to her lips, she downs the liquid in one gulp, the bitter taste numbing her from the chaos in her mind. She immediately pours herself another drink. “Get a grip!”

As the evening wore on, the party showed no signs of slowing down. The apartment was alive with a symphony that consisted of laughed and animated music. The vibrant atmosphere was almost enough to mask the tension Carolina felt. 

Eventually, the moment everyone had been waiting for arrived: the birthday cake. The lights were dimmed, and the room filled with the flickering glow of candlelight. A hush fell over the guests as the cake was brought out, candles blazing atop it. Jae stood at the center of the room, his eyes twinkling with delight as he took in the scene.

As the familiar strains of the birthday song filled the air, Jae reached out for Carolina, pulling her close to his side. He wanted her there, wrapped in his arms, as everyone serenaded him. Carolina felt a pang of discomfort and forced a smile, trying to match the joyous energy of the moment, as she could feel Jungkook’s gaze on her, heavy and intense, like daggers piercing through her.

As the song drew to a close, Jae took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and made a wish. His face lit up with a beaming smile as he blew out the candles, the room erupting into applause and cheers. Carolina clapped along, forcing a smile, but her mind was elsewhere.

Jae turned to her, his eyes sparkling with gratitude and affection. He gave her a quick squeeze, his joy evident in every gesture. “Thank you for this,” he whispered in her ear, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. Carolina nodded, her smile faltering slightly as she glanced around the room.

The guests began to dig into their slices of cake and Carolina took advantage of the fact that everyone’s focus was on the sweet to slip away from Jae’s side. 

Carolina steps out onto the balcony. The city stretched out before her, its lights twinkling like a starry sky. Leaning against the railing, her slice of cake droops in its plastic plate, forgotten in her hand. Chocolate cake—Jae’s favourite. She sighs as she closes her eyes, the cool night air a welcoming friend from the heat and noise inside.

“Quite the party you got going here.” Jungkook’s voice startles Carolina. Her hand flies to her chest as the sliding door of the balcony is slammed behind him. “My invitation must’ve gotten lost.” 

“What are you doing here, Jungkook?” Carolina’s voice is stern, her patience running thin. It was the same tone she used when they worked together. Jungkook hadn’t seen it often, but each time it happened, he knew he ought to tread lightly. 

“I came to check in on you.” His eyes are sincere as he takes a step towards her. “I honestly got worried that something was wrong.” 

Carolina huffs at his response, her irritation bubbling over. Of course he did. She turns to face the city again, her back to him. 

Jungkook doesn’t appreciate the lack of response so he continues, now standing right by her side, close enough that their arms brush. “Had I known you were throwing your boyfriend a party, I wouldn’t have come, obviously.” 

“Excuse me?” The sarcasm in Jungkook’s voice makes Carolina see red. If she could, she would have punched him in the face right then and there. “First of all, he’s not my boyfriend. And even if he was, I don’t remember you being the boss of me, so I don’t have to inform you of anything.” 

The answer doesn’t exactly please Jungkook and he presses his lips before gaining the courage to speak again. “You’re right.” 

Carolina sighs deeply, fingers finding her temples and massaging them for a while. “You should leave—” 

“Do you like me?” Their eyes meet briefly only for Carolina to roll them. Impatient, Jungkook continues, “Or him? Do you like him?”

“It’s complicated.” She replies. “And—again—none of your business.” 

Apprehensive, Jungkook decides to face the city. “Do you remember the first time we kissed? In my car, when I took you home?” Carolina hums in response and takes the opportunity to admire his side profile. She notices how he plays with his lip piercing and how much darker than the night sky his eyes are. “I had been wanting to do that for months. I had the biggest crush on you ever since the moment I laid my eyes on you.” 

“I—” Carolina tries to speak, but Jungkook cuts her off. 

“Then I fucked up and you already know the whole story. My point is that in all that time, I never stopped thinking about you. And now, that we’re friends—can I say we’re friends?” 

“Sure,” Carolina bites her lip, slightly flustered at the man’s monologue. Jungkook gives her a small smile. 

They are engulfed by silence for a second. “I actually came in here to do more than check up on you.” His head hangs low and he laughs, suddenly feeling shy. “I want to be more than your friend. I want to kiss you again like we did in my car. And after the club. I can’t take you out of my mind. And I don’t want to hide this from you anymore.” 

“I appreciate you finally disclosing what you want or what you feel. I really do.” They are back at facing each other. “You have been a pain in the ass to deal with and I hated the fickle thing you made this to be—I made this to be. Because it’s not. and yet I can’t give you more than this at the moment.” Realizing the course of her words, Jungkook can’t help the frown that falls on his features. “It’s not fair for Jae. Or for me for that matter. He’s not my boyfriend but he came close to being something for me, so I need the time to think about this mess. You can’t just barge one day in my life when you’re finally ready and just—you get the gist.” 

For a moment, Jungkook is at a loss for words. “I understand that. Yeah—I get it.” He speaks almost in a whisper. “We’ll speak soon then, Cee.” 

“Jungkook,” Carolina calls out. He looks heartbroken and it’s painful to see. 

“Great party, man.” Jungkook doesn’t look back and his words to Jae who was standing on the other side of the door aren’t accompanied by a smile. 

“Thanks!” Jae steps foot outside, confused. “What happened?” 

Carolina sighs. Damn surprise parties. 

[ chapter 6 ]

☁ want to be tagged in the next part? comment below or send me an ask!

[forlorn-crows]

All this talk of soft ghouls got me thinking some unwise thoughts...

Can we, the clamoring public, see some Sunny softness? One of her ghouls (gn) showing her how loved she is once everyone gets back from tour? Taking some time to spoil her and just feel some pleasure with her? Please can we see that from your skilled and talented brain?

hi mallll you know i love my sunny girl

whats better than one multi ghoul? two multi ghouls. swiss spending time with his multi girl to get you all warm and fuzzy wink wink

a little bit of slice of life, a little bit of porn. mostly banter, some makin' out and some frotting action.

transfemme sunshine, with cock/dick/balls to refer to her anatomy.

“There she is, little miss Sunshine,” Swiss beams, pulling her into a strong, warm hug. “Missed you, multi girl.”

Sunny giggles, bouncing on her heels and squeezing him tight. “Missed you so much, Swissy.”

He gives her a chaste kiss on the side of her face, pulling back and holding her at arm’s length. Just to look at her. Breathe in that bright clementine smell of hers that they’ve all gone without. 

He sighs, giving her a lopsided grin. “I’m sure Cir and Lus will wanna steal you away first,” he rumbles, smoothing his thumbs over her freckled upper arms. “But maybe we can catch up later. Just us. How’s that sound, bunny?”

Sunny grins right back at him, clapping her hands together softly. “Yes! I’d love that.”

“Perfect,” he says, leaning in to kiss her on the nose. He eyes the other air ghoulettes who are quickly approaching them. “Uh oh. Gotta dash before Cir bites a chunk outta me for stealing her girl,” he teases, mock-whispering against her temple. 

“You better,” Cirrus lilts, flicking the forked end of her tongue out at him with a playful hiss. 

Swiss raises his hands in mock surrender, taking two steps back. “All yours, ladies,” he assures with a wink. 

“Thank you,” Cumulus says, turning her nose up proudly and crossing her arms. It’s all show though, her face splitting into a grin a second later, dimples on full display. The two of them take Sunny arm-in-arm, predictably whisking her away from the rest of the group—but not before Cirrus lands a smack on Swiss’ ass with her tail on the way out. 

“Bye,” he chuckles, offering Sunny a little wave. 

“Hey!” Aurora calls out from across the courtyard where she’s been flinging the few remaining suitcases into manageable stacks. She’s hunched over a random equipment case, ushering the multi-ghoul over. “I need your muscles. Big boy ran off with the other lovebirds already, and Lucifer knows where Rain and Aeon are.” 

Swiss rolls his eyes. “Slackers. The lot of ‘em,” he jests. “I gotcha, sweetheart.”

—

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” Swiss muses hours later, pulling on a lock of Sunshine’s hair to watch it spring back out of his grasp.

She pouts and wrinkles her nose. Furrowing her brow, she blows a stream of air perfectly upwards to put the curl back in its place. “Yes. But you’ve interrupted me to say so.”

“It was really important, bunny.”

She rolls her eyes, even with the grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “You don’t wanna hear the rest of the story?”

Swiss pulls her closer by the waist, melding their bodies together for the first time in a long while. “I do, sweetheart. But I’ve heard my fair share of griping and groaning about human taxes from Aether himself. Can’t blame a guy for getting distracted by other things.” 

Sunny snorts. She walks her fingers up his forearm, over the swell of his bicep, and over his shoulder to poke him in the cheek. “And what are you thinking about instead, hm?”

He snaps his teeth at her finger, smiling when she yelps and pulls her finger away with a giggle. Then he leans in close, holding her gaze. He runs the tip of his nose along her browline, sighing when that sweet scent of her flares at his proximity. 

“You, sweet thing. My beautiful bunny whom I’ve missed so dearly.” He nuzzles further into her with a raspy purr, squeezing into the space between her and the pillow and tucking his nose right into the crook of her neck. 

“Swissy,” she half laughs, half whines. 

“Come onnn,” he groans teasingly. “Lemme be sweet to you. Show you how much I’ve missed you.”

“You just wanna get in my pants, you fucker,” Sunshine says bluntly, all while lifting her chin to give him better access. 

“Now, who said that?” he says at length. Swiss presses a kiss to her skin, smoothing his hand up and down her back. He inhales her scent again, ripe citrus and warm honey. “Fuck, baby, it’s been too long,”

She hums, coaxing him out from the crook of her neck. She holds the side of his face, smiling sweetly. “So dramatic,” she whispers before closing the distance to kiss him.

Swiss rumbles happily, tasting her slowly, softly. Though the sun is dipping below the horizon just beyond the hills outside, neither of them are in a rush. He cups her face in return, his fingers curving along her jaw. Not pulling or gripping. Just holding, caressing. 

Their lips meet and part, then meet again, over and over in chaste little touches that are paired with sighs and pleased chirps. An easy pace full of affection and mutual appreciation. 

“Missed havin’ you in my arms, bunny,” he mutters against her lips after what feels like ages. He gives her a tight squeeze, migrating back to her jawline.

“What, Rora didn’t keep you busy?” Sunny snorts without malice. 

Swiss huffs a laugh. “‘Course she did, that insatiable little thing.” He slips his hands down to her ass, kneading softly and pulling her as close as she can get. “But she’s not you, is she?”

Sunny hums. Rolls her hips against his very obvious bulge. “No, but I bet she looked real nice from the floor,” she grins.

He lets out a real laugh this time, pulling back to look at her. “Oh, you would know, wouldn’t you?” 

Sunny gets right back up in his face, nipping him on his kiss-swollen bottom lip. “What’s it to ya, Swissy?” she challenges.

He scoffs, eyebrows raising at her. “Oh, she wants to play games, does she?” he asks with a playful growl, bullying her onto her back. “Guess it’s time to bring out the big guns.”

Sunshine catches the glint in his eyes and the way his fingers twitch at his side as he straddles her. She narrows her eyes, realizing too late that she’s now trapped beneath him.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Swiss gives her his signature frightening smile, all teeth.  “Oh, wouldn’t I?”

It’s all the warning she gets before he descends on her, fingers fluttering along all her ticklish spots—the middle of her ribs, the crease of her hips, her armpits, the divots of her collarbone. She swats at him helplessly, caught between shrieking and laughing uncontrollably. He’s always too fast, dodging and dislodging her hands to go from one spot to the other, pinning her down with strong legs despite how hard she tries to buck him off. 

“Swis-suhhh,” she whines, gasping for breath. “Lucif—hah-have mercy.”

Swiss smirks, ceasing his torment. He puts his hands on his hips, grinning smugly at the ghoulette still pinned beneath him. “Mercy granted.”

She sucks in a deep lungful of air, groaning on the exhale and scrubbing her face with her hands. She tries to twist out from underneath his thighs, groaning louder when her pelvis grinds against his. Her face quickly blooms with a rosy hue as she peeks at him through her fingers. 

“Uh oh,” Swiss lilts. He rocks his hips against hers, chuckling when she lets out a breathy moan. “What’s this, bunny?”

She swallows, attempting to catch her breath. “You know what.”

“Every time,” he laughs to himself. He drops down onto his hands, tail whipping behind him as he boxes her in with a hungry gaze. Licking over his fangs as he admires the way her freckles stand out against her blush. 

“What will I do with you, sweetheart?”

Sunshine reaches up to grip the hem of his t-shirt, twisting it between her fingers and tugging slightly. She bites her lip. Looks up at him with her big, amber eyes. “Kiss me?” Her eyes drop down to his chest, exposed a little now with her pulling on his shirt. “Make me feel good. Please?”

Swiss trills and melts himself against her. Guiding her hands to wrap around his waist as he tucks his forearms under her head. He presses a kiss to her forehead and ruts against her, sighing into her curls and sinking further into her infernal warmth. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Swiss promises, dipping down to kiss her deeply. 

Where it was lazy before—chaste pecks and delicate touches—the pace is heated now: tongues exchanged, hands roaming, and hips rolled unabashedly against each other. Taking one another in like stifled flames no longer deprived of oxygen, drinking each other down like parched earth after a drought. Greedy, but relishing in it at the same time.

Sunshine claws at the back of his shirt, wriggling beneath him until she can wrap her legs around his hips. She groans when he slots between her legs, Swiss’ dick hot and hard against her own even through the layers of fabric between them. 

“Fuck,” she gasps against his lips. 

“Yeah,” he groans back. “So hard for me. Wanna get my hands around you.” 

Sunny nods, quick little movements of her head that rub her nose against his cheek. “Together,” she begs breathlessly. “Your dick against mine.”

Swiss groans louder, already pulling away from her to strip his clothes. “Fuck, that’s hot, bunny.”

The ghoulette all but yanks off her pants and underwear in one fell swoop, kicking them off and wrenching her crop top over her head simultaneously in an awkward flailing of limbs. She exhales triumphantly when she’s bare to the world, grinning up at Swiss with that crimson blush still on her cheeks and a cute leaking stiffy between her thighs. 

“Multi girl, you are something else,” Swiss says affectionately. With another shimmy of his hips he’s bare too, slinking back to lie side by side as before. He twines their legs together and pulls her right back into a hungry kiss, all tongue and fang. 

“Touch me,” she moans against his mouth. Pawing at his bicep until his hand moves from the curve of her back. 

Swiss wraps his hand around them both without further preamble, huffing a grunt as her length snuggles up to the underside of his. Likewise, she can’t contain her keening sigh as she bucks into his fist. Writhing atop the sheets and begging him sweetly in nonsensical syllables. 

“Just like that, baby,” he rumbles. He latches onto her neck, sucking a bruise into her heated skin. Warm tongue matching the pace of his hand. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“Shit, Swiss,” Sunny whimpers. “So good—fuck—I love you so much.” 

“Love you so much, sweetheart,” he purrs into her skin. He tilts his head up, dipping his hand further down to brush against her tight little balls as he presses his lips against her ear. He smiles when she whines and gives her a squeeze. 

“Lemme show you how much I do.”

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 15 END)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Crew (Ft. Others) & Reader Insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: Yandere behavior. Mild spoilers for Gear 6 iykyk. If yandere content makes you uncomfortable, please do block the tag 'oh sweet child of mine' as well as any variation of 'one piece yandere' that you feel is necessary.

Aside from AU romance endings with characters per request, this is the end! Marco and Luffy confirmed, btw. Now, I'm going to be playing Tears of the Kingdom so my responses will be slow lol

But thanks everyone for being here and enjoying this fic until now, expect it to be on AO3 soon!

Word Count: 2,043

It was a minor miracle that Ace’s little ship made it through the blast that rocked Banaro island. Likely because it was made to handle Ace’s normal fire-shenanigans. It didn’t exactly have room for three on it, but that’s only if you’re of the opinion that people need personal space. Something that, as someone who has been thoroughly grounded, you apparently didn’t need. Marco held you to his chest as he sat in front of the ‘bucket’ where Ace fueled the engine with his fire. You suspect that he was using his phoenix legs to hold into the sides but couldn’t confirm with your poor eyesight.

If he wasn’t partially transformed to hold you both in place it was impressive considering the breakneck speed Ace pushed the Striker at.

You drifted off several times only to find that you three were still traveling. It was only when you woke up starving that you saw Ace lean Striker towards a landmass.

“We’ve made really good time. This island has an optometrist so we can get you new glasses.” Marco spoke into your ear softly despite the wind whipping by you. Not feeling like fighting to be heard, you nodded your head.

Ace expertly pulled the boat up to the docks, tying it off and offering his hand for Marco and yourself. After well over a day at sea, you were a bit shaky but pleased to find you didn’t trip. The docks blurred into what you assumed to be a marketplace, both Marco and Ace finding a reason to keep a hand on you as they guided your path into a shop.

You were utterly relieved when you were handed a new pair of glasses after a few tests. The thick lenses shifting the impressionist blurs into sharp contrasting shapes once again.

Marco gave Ace a sly look.

“You know, I thought I saw the Thousand Sunny on the other side of the docks.” Marco mused, watching Ace’s face abruptly light up.

“We should go see them!” Ace looked at Marco in excitement. When he nodded in acceptance, Ace grabbed your hand and pulled you along eagerly. “You’ll finally get to meet my little brother properly! Lu’s got a great crew you know—his chef is top notch, I’m sure he won’t mind making us something to eat!”

You laughed, using your free hand to make sure your glasses didn’t bounce off your face so soon after getting them.

“Do you even know if they’re on board?!” You asked as Ace tore through the town in his rush.

“Eh, it’s fine! Luffy won’t mind if I drop by!” Ace proclaimed. You looked behind you to find Marco gone. Hopefully he decided to just fly there rather than fight to keep up through the crowds.

The Thousand Sunny was a pretty big ship with a cute lion’s head on the mast with a pointy mane like the sun. The gangplank was out so Ace just steamed up it with you in tow.

“LUFFY!” Ace screamed out, whipping his head around as Marco landed on deck with an indulgent smile. There was a crash somewhere below and thudding steps.

“ACE!” Straw Hat slammed open the door with a wide, excited grin.

“Stop BREAKING SHIT, LUFFY!” A woman screamed from below, quickly following her captain. Straw Hat wasn’t listening as he launched himself at Ace, arms stretching out and wrapping around his brother as he laughed. Ace gripped his brother’s red vest, swaying the two of them in loose circles.

“Did ya get ‘em? Did ya?!” Straw Hat asked childishly as a young woman with orange hair emerged from below, panting for breath from running.

“Sure did, Lu! See, I—We—Even rescued our crewmate.” You raised your hand and smiled.

“Sup.” Straw Hat’s eyes were wide as he finally noticed you were there.

“Eh?!? What happened to you?!” Straw Hat asked, arm stretching out to drag you in close. While you looked way better than before, you were still wrapped with bandages to keep your healing wounds from getting irritated from the high speeds of the Striker. Marco had been strangely dragging out the healing process—or possibly you were just that exhausted that your fruit didn’t properly share the powers just yet.

Straw Hat’s fruit still thrummed against your skin. A calling of the drums that resonated in your chest with that snappy, elastic taste that made you want to smile.

“Well, I got launched out of a sudden volcano and then hitched a ride in Mao’s mouth.” You explained, tolerating the gentle manhandling as Luffy squeezed you into the hug with Ace.

“Mao?” The young lady asked.

“Yeah. Mao. They might be here, actually. Baby~!” You called out shamelessly.

There was a deep, resonating call from the sea as Mao rose up. You squirmed free and ran to the side of the ship.

“Mmmmaaaoooo~! Maaooo~!” Mao called out, leaning down for gentle pets.

“Baby! Pretty baby, lookachu! Ahah~!” You laughed, stroking their nose as Straw Hat laughed behind you.

“Cool! Ace! You didn’t tell me they were friends with a sea king!” Straw Hat ran up and reached out his hand.

“L-Luffy!? Don’t get close to it! You don’t know if it’ll eat you! Can somebody talk sense into him!?”

You grabbed Straw Hat’s hand and gently placed it under Mao’s jaw.

“Mao’s a baby still, so their scales aren’t completely hardened yet. A little scratching right here feels nice cause that’s usually where they start shedding.” You explained softly, Straw Hat absolutely enraptured with a wide, beaming grin. He looked back at his brother.

“This is a baby?!” Ace shrugged his shoulders helplessly and you grinned.

“Yep! Sea Kings grow a lot before they reach maturity. It’s when they grow whiskers that you know they’re fully grown!” You declared.

“Wow! How do you know that?!” You chuckled, pushing up your glasses.

“My home island was near a sea king nest!” You laughed, “But they didn’t tend to go near the island, so we just knew by proxy.”

“I heard we had guests?” A blond man ducked his head out, catching sight of Ace before sighing. “I’ll fire up the stove. Two Ds… sheesh.”

“Join my crew!” Straw Hat asked with starry eyes. You saw Marco and Ace stiffen with Ace looking conflicted. You couldn’t help but laugh and smile wryly.

“No can do. I’m grounded. Sides, you guys aren’t ready for the Grand Line yet.” You tipped your head to the side, expanding your still sore senses. “You have two other devil fruit users that are pretty strong but it only gets harder from here on out. I can’t be a crutch.” You sighed.

Straw Hat pouted.

“What do you mean?” You looked at him with a bit of an indulgent smile. You get why Straw Hat was viewed as a rising star in piracy. But charisma would only get him so far.

“My devil fruit can influence other devil fruits. Make them stronger—or as I realized recently—negate them completely. You… tell you what, ask me again when you find the drums.” You poked his chest teasingly. Everyone looked confused. “…What is your devil fruit power?”

“I’m a rubber man!” Straw Hat declared.

You gave a soft, mysterious smile, finally giving into the impulse to ruffle his hair through his hat.

“Are you sure about that? Find the drums, Straw Hat, and then maybe I’ll join you.” You said. If he managed to find the limits of his devil fruit all on his own, he would probably not suffer the same hubris as your previous ‘partners’. Ace and Marco hadn’t despite being in close contact with you, after all.

Straw Hat huffed, face twisting with determination.

“Fine! I’ll find those drums, wherever they are, and then you’ll join my crew!”

Marco looked like he ate a lemon with Ace not much better, though oddly a little touched in spite of himself. Like he was proud but not sure of what.

--*--

The Moby Dick came into view rapidly with Ace whooping in joy, firing off sparks to let the crew know of your approach. There was, even over the wind, cheers as Ace pulled up close to the ship.

Ace swept you up into his arms and leapt up, planting his feet firmly on the railing as Marco sighed and followed suit. You laid in his arms awkwardly, thinking that this time was hardly any better than your first time on board.

Whitebeard laughed, grinning as Ace skipped over.

“We’re back, Oyaji!”

“Welcome home, my children.” You sighed, not surprised in the least as Ace sat on Whitebeard’s knee.

Whitebeard looked at you, taking in the mostly superfluous bandages.

“Surprisingly, it’s good to be back.” You grumbled without any heat.

Did it still weird you out? Absolutely. You don’t get what any of them saw in you that inspired such ferocity as to track you down across the Grand Line to get you back.

Whitebeard’s smile softened.

“I’m glad you all returned safely.” He murmured as someone stomped up to the main deck.

“You’re back!” Thatch cried out joyously, his usual chef ensemble swapped for loose pants and a shirt. Clearly, he was still on light duty as the nurses nearby scolded him for running. You elbowed Ace to let go and hopped down to the floor, aware that everyone was watching as you approached the suddenly nervous chef.

He glanced around for a hint of what was going on as you walked up to him. Then while he was still stiff with nerves, you wrapped your arms around his chest, gently patting his back.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Thatch.” You mumbled into his shirt. There was a high pitched cry as his arms locked around you, spinning you in circles.

“AH! AHHHH?! You did it! You used my name~!” Thatch cried out as several nurses protested to the vigorous movement, though on who’s behalf you weren’t sure.

You grinned.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Twin-Blade.” You said dryly, loud enough to be heard by everyone while hiding your smile. The effect was instant. His arms twitching as he nearly fell to his knees in mock-despair.

“Noooooo! My name! Use my name, damnit!”

You laughed, patting his back consolingly.

“Sure thing, Twin-Blade.”

“No!” Thatch barked, as the crew laughed at his plight.

While not what you imagined, life as a pirate wasn’t so bad if it meant feeling like this.

You considered your now bare wrist, no supportive cloth there to remind you of your past. What you hoped for in your future. Not quite freedom symbolized in marine-standard blue but consistency and a promise to support people. Nor a chain to remind you of your literal, more understandable imprisonment. You were free to put whatever you wanted there once they decided you didn’t need the bandages anymore.

And then? Well, it was a pretty good place for a tattoo… whenever you’re not grounded anymore and can slip away to get it done.

“…Hey, what does being grounded even look like?” You asked Thatch, Marco and Ace having avoided the subject. You assumed it was because they didn’t know either.

Thatch paused, looking over at his brothers and Whitebeard.

“…Nooooo mooooorrreeee… avoiding… parties?” Thatch guessed, receiving cheerful agreements all around. You couldn’t help but snort.

“You know, usually groundings means less of those.” You pointed out but Thatch nodded resolutely.

“Eating every meal!” Thatch added.

“I already did that?”

“More training!” Someone suggested.

“Okay, that makes sense but—”

“Hanging out with Oyaji!”

“Hey now! Don’t get ahead of yourself!” You barked, feeling ganged up on as more suggestions were added, Whitebeard doing nothing but adding to the chaos.

“Given names only.” He nodded and you sputtered.

“I’m not calling you Edward!” You huffed, craning your neck to glare back at him. He paused before smiling.

“That’s alright. Oyaji or Pops is fine with me.” You groaned, burying your face into Thatch chest as you fought the urge to laugh.

“Hey, you have to follow the rules. You’re still grounded.” Thatch teased.

“Does that mean I can stop when I’m not grounded?” You needled. Thatch letting out a bark of laughter.

“Hah! No.”

Why did you decide to stay again?

[sunny-mercya]

Feverish Dance

Edmund Pevensie x Male Reader

Masterlist

On your voyage to find Aslan again and help Caspian dethroning his Uncle and bringing peace to Narnia—freeing the land from Miraz clutches—you had come across an abandoned Castle. By the looks of the size from it, it probably has once belonged to an Earl or Duke. Now for the time being, how ever long this will be and take. this would be your new provisional home.

Susan, Lucy and you ventured through another section of the castle. Long empty hallways and corridors, forgotten and dusty. Most of the rooms had been barricaded or locked, making it hard to find a open one—a one for use.

When sunset had begun every so slowly, dunking the lands with an orange hue—kissing it good night—you three had found another room, which was unlocked. A ballroom, a grand one—where all dreams of the nights could come true—once a magnificent place, but now filled with cobwebs lingering over the furniture with it's muddy, decaying and damp spots. Signs of being not used over the centuries, decades perhaps even.

«Imagine all the grand grandiose banquets which had been held in here!» mused Lucy with excitement out, skipping further into room and touching one of the silk like robes—now shredded with holes in it by moths—and swings it around with a twirl.

«Don't touch too much in here Lu, you might could get sick.»

«Oh Susan, where would all the fun be, when we don't and risk a bit,»

You snickered a bit at Lucy's reply. Deciding to explore the room like her too. You had to agree with Lucy, this ballroom here had probably witness a endless festival night after night, when the castle—perhaps even the years itself—had been in its glory.

~~~

The last bit of Sun-rays peeked through the cloud filled sky, through the windows and into the room. The natural light was still enough to see without any extra light source, though Susan had already begun to lit up some torches.

Despite your excitement, your adventurous rush of curiosity you had—while rummaging through the chests and the mostly covered furniture, getting more than once off track distracted by Lucy—who started at one point to play pretend, telling possible stories of how festive the nights in here could've been—you felt a constant pull of exhaustion tugging at your body.

Like a demanding child the exhaustion keeps tugging at you and bringing your body into a sluggish waving. Feeling heavy with muscles aching, ready to take a nap everywhere and anywhere even when it would be on the hard ground.

A lingering feeling, one of the kinds you couldn't describe, deep down in the core—the far back—of your body and mind, like a minimal headache—which pounds on your skull as if it was a door and till it feels like your skull would crack apart, splitting into two like bread but with crunch to it.

Lucy watches you with concern, once you stopped in your tracks with whatever you were about to do. Standing completely still like a statue, looking off into empty spaces.

Your complexion, perhaps it was because of the torchlights flickering flames and the last few sun ray's, looked more pale—ashen even—than it should be. The way you rubbed over your face, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes, were clear signs for Lucy that you weren't feeling all that well at all.

«Are you feeling alright [Name]?» Lucy asked with concern, a bit hesitantly. She didn't got a answer right away, not verbal at least. Susan gave her sister a questionable eyebrow raise, not sure herself if she would wait the situation out or get Edmund—preferable, since the two of you has a close connection—and the others.

«I'm fine, Luce. Just a bit of a headache» you mumbled it more, incoherently, than you intended to, but your mouth and tongue felt like cotton.

A groan left your lips, dry they felt now and no amount of licking over them would help it. Goosebumps racked through your body, tingling your spine, as flashes of cold and warmth at the same came over you.

«You should sit down [Nickname],» Lucy feared it might have been the small wound, which you have acquired on the way, being infected now. Though the last time they checked over it, mere hours ago at the crack of dawn, it seemed nothing to worrisome. Trying to persuade you to sit down, to take a break.

Lucy couldn't comprehend the next minutes within. Standing there and the next you twirled and spun her through the room.

«Do you hear this Lucy?»

«No? What do you hear?»

«The music! Oh, Lucy! Those wonderful music, I haven't heard in so long!»

Your eyes brimmed with tears, laughing carefree, having longed to hear such wonderful music and brought your heart into a joyful burst.

Ever since the start of the War, ever since Great Britain is been targeted of German bombing, you weren't able to listen to the music—from a long forgotten decades—you loved so much in so long and at all. A rarity it had been.

Missed to dance to it, as your practices had been cut short to the bare minimum, twirling through the room like there was no tomorrow, to their fast—sometimes slow—uplifting, joyfully—romanticisation, theatrical and deeply sorrow filled—sonority.

Oh, this was Mozart's Alla Turca. Offenbachs Overture to Orpheus next and then, Tchaikovskys Trépak.

You loved them all, loved every single piece.

~~~

When Susan had come to get him, telling him that you weren't feeling well, Edmund hadn't expected it to be like this. He once had read, in one of the history books out of boredom, about the Dance Plague from 1518 and somehow this reminds Edmund of you—your current doing as if you had this ominous mysterious plague caught yourself.

Edmund saw you dance more than once. He knew every single steps of the waltzes and choreographies you had done, had went to every practices, recitals and performance you did. Had been your partner for these every so often.

There were only a few, handful of people—Edmund being one of them—which could keep up with your fast-spacing dashing of dancing—like a lightning you could and would twirl around, jumping high like stars in the night sky and being a hurricane like storm and yet, so gentle and delicately at the same time—and catching you seemed a impossible task.

You had letting go of Lucy, who felt nauseous from so much dancing—even though she loved it as much as you—long ago and she watches you with still presenting amaze, even though she too had been to your practices more than once.

«Ed! Ed! Come and dance with me! Brahms Hungarian Dance had always been one of my favourite» you had taken hold of your boyfriends hands, waltzing with him through the room and getting faster with the passing seconds.

Perhaps you were getting sick, having catch a possible flu. Perhaps it is the nervousness and stress or perhaps, you finally have lost your mind all at once—like one of your distant aunts.

But the music is so wonderful and magnificent. You couldn't stop, wouldn't, even when your muscles were aching so painful and burning like fire.

To dance was like the blood in your veins. Needed to make your body function, to keep you alive.

Then, the above, seemed to tip and darkness crashed over you.

~~~

Edmund daps the sweat from you forehead, keeping your face cool with a cold dunked cloths. A high fever you had, making you squirming uncomfortable on the bed.

In your moments of being wake, you mumbled incoherently gibberish, smiling and telling Edmund about moon and stars before dozing off again.

A relief it was that your wound didn't infected itself, as far as they could tell. So you being current bedridden with a fever was indeed, probably, because of nothing but stress.

Funny, just—in sense of earth time, since Narnia's time goes and pass differently—hours ago you had treated one of Edmunds scraps, which he had gotten during his and Peter's small fight with others boys and now it was him to take care of you.

A groan came over your lips, turning more onto your side, bleary open your eyes and glancing at Edmund.

«Tea Time........noon......Tchaikovsky....»

«Sure love, after some naps»

«....with em...?»

«If you want,»

Edmund laid next to you on the bed, taking you in his arms. For someone with a high fever, you felt icy cold. He pulls you even closer, humming a bit of a tune—one of the nursery ones—hand racking through your hair, ever so softly—like you would do to him, when he has one of his anger bursting days—when you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

«When you feel better,» a kiss to the crown of your hair he gives you,

«we could dance one of those waltzes you like so much, just you and me love» Edmund gave you another kiss, this time on the lips. Closing his eyes and slowly he too, drifts into the world of dreams.

~~~

«Ed's soo smitten with [Nickname], I told you he has a soft spot» snickers Lucy—leaving the part "for him" out and keeping it for herself—quietly closing the door and walking away.

«Luce, they're both are.» corrects Peter, walking with her.

[queerfanfiction]

Kinktober Day 1 — Breathplay

This is for my very first Kinktober! I probably won't post for every day, but I'm excited to share more Kinktober prompts!

Farah Dowling x Rosalind

AO3 Link

Summary: Rosalind had Farah in her clutches, metaphorically and quite literally too. She loved having power—power over Farah’s life especially. Her favorite kind of power was her hand over Farah’s throat and the sounds Farah made.

**I loosely follow the events of Season 1 while adding smutty flashbacks in italics.**

Farah’s eyes wandered over her outfit in the mirror, meticulously examining how the dark navy blue fabric hugged her neck. It had extra fabric ties in the front that she had unconsciously wrapped and tightened earlier that day.

Her thoughts shifted back to Rosalind.

Ben had found char residue on the dead shepherd outside the Barrier. It took nothing—barely a moment—for Farah to mention Rosalind. Her memory never slipped when it came to that woman. She knew it had been sixteen years, almost to the day since the last sightings of the Burned Ones. She had no idea why she felt a pang of protectiveness and defensiveness for Rosalind when Saul and Ben were discussing the Burned Ones returning.

Farah scrambled for control, too afraid of unraveling if they continued to discuss the woman Farah tried so hard to forget.

“Ben, what we think is irrelevant. The Barrier's doing its job.” Farah pauses, noticing her tone was harsh and final. Her friend deserved more; he was a pawn to Rosalind too. Farah’s next statement needed to project security and control.

“Until we know something for sure, let's clean this up before gossip starts.” Thankfully, Farah could mask her feelings about Rosalind by bringing up the safety of the students at Alfea. Farah turns nonchalantly, eager to find a safe space to go. What she felt was anything but indifference; she had to escape. She considered her office…well…it was once Rosalind’s office. Even if it had the dressings of being hers now, it was still was sat atop of Rosalind’s very prison. There was no escape from this woman’s clutches.

In an attempt to curb Rosalind’s haunting, all photos and mentions of Rosalind had been relegated to the abandoned east wing of campus. Farah hated how quickly she desired to discuss the previous headmistress. In fact, she had jumped at the chance to mention her name. It felt impossible to escape thoughts about Rosalind, especially with the current events occurring at Alfea.

Defiance. Disgust. Desire. Farah felt them all concurrently.

Could Rosalind still be seeping into Farah’s routine? Her hands reach for the fabric around her neck. Deciding whether or not to loosen it had beckoned a memory.

—

“My hands look divine around your neck. They’re the prettiest necklace you have, Farah.” The words oozed from Rosalind’s lips, so precise and taunting, as her hands squeezed the soft flesh of Farah’s throat. Rosalind’s humiliation made Farah even wetter between her legs.

Farah struggled to wrench Rosalind’s hands from her throat. Her eyes were beginning to swell with tears—her face beginning to change color. Farah is pinned against the sharp stone of the wall, and Rosalind drives her nimble fingers deeper into Farah’s wetness. Farah’s arousal was treacherous and betrayed her struggling hands clawing at her neck.

Rosalind ignored Farah’s pleas. They had negotiated terms, ones that included sparing Farah’s delicate windpipe and only applying pressure to the sides of the neck. Rosalind didn’t care. She wanted control. In fact, when Farah was breathless and gasping, it ensured she couldn’t talk back to Rosalind. She couldn’t defy Rosalind, and Rosalind liked it that way.

Of course, Rosalind consoled Farah further, musing, “Your lips are so kissable when parted and gasping my name.” Rosalind knew just how to manipulate to get what she wanted. She preyed on Farah. In response, this made Farah lean into Rosalind’s hold. There was an aspect of this dance between the two women that was mutually beneficial, even if the cons outweighed the pros for Farah. Farah craved the anchoring feeling Rosalind’s hand around her throat created. She didn’t yet understand how cruel the older woman was, rather she was under Rosalind’s spell. Farah was always rewarded for falling in line.

When Rosalind finally released her grasp of Farah’s neck, she kissed the younger woman hungrily, covering her mouth again. Farah could barely respond or even think, still taking in the rush of oxygen she was deprived of. Rosalind swallowed Farah’s every gasp and whine with the kiss.

—

Over the next coming weeks, Farah was confronted with Rosalind’s name so often that she had lost count. It was painful to mince the relationship she had with the previous headmistress. She simultaneously wanted to shout to make everyone understand how close she was to the woman while also never mentioning their connection again.

All Farah could utter when Bloom questioned her was, “I was her student…then her protégé.” …As if it really were that simple. Then again, Farah considered how she had always cared more than Rosalind did about their connection.

“Rosalind…She’s still manipulating people after all these years.”

This realization was tough for Farah and came swiftly after the events of Aster Dell. Bloom’s fixation on Rosalind scared Farah, because it reminded her of the hold Rosalind had over her for far too long. She remembered how she never doubted the older woman, never questioned her. It’s only years later that Farah can see Rosalind for what she was—unveil her tactics and all the secrets she never shared.

When Bloom let slip she knew Rosalind was being kept under the school and was still alive, Farah warned, “Whatever she has to give you is not worth unleashing her back into the world for, Bloom.” The ferocity with which Farah grabbed Bloom made both women pause and look into each other’s eyes.

Farah wasn’t sure she was ready to confront the prisoner below the school. She knew it was partially for selfish reasons, but Farah also knew it was best for Alfea if Rosalind stayed locked away.

The world shifted when Farah learned that Rosalind had been released, had escaped. Before seeing it herself in the tunnels below her office, she knew. Before Aisha frantically found Farah speaking with Ben and Saul, she knew.

A gentle gasp escaped from Farah as she stood at the top of the steps above where she had locked Rosalind away in stasis years ago. Farah stopped in her tracks, frozen to the spot momentarily. All she could do about what the emptiness before her symbolized was breathe. Farah stared in front of her as she took in a shaky breath.

Rosalind is free, wandering the grounds, putting Farah on edge again. At any moment, Rosalind’s hands might find her.

—

Farah felt the rough tugging of her hair, and her airway sealed shut as she struggled in Rosalind’s arms. In response, Rosalind sternly commanded, “Stop moving.”

Farah’s vision blurred, and she had an instinct that her hearing was also about to go. Just as she was about to pass out, Rosalind’s voice rang out and echoed as if it were far away. “Breathe.” And when Farah does breathe, Rosalind’s hard eyes bore into hers with desire.

Rosalind loved to see how long Farah could hold out—how long she’d let Rosalind suffocate her. How far could Rosalind execute her hold over Farah? Until death, apparently. This pleased her.

As Farah choked out strangled moans, her head continued to be fuzzy, her cheeks warm and pulsing with every beat of her heart. Farah’s inhales were raspy—strained and loud in the room as Rosalind traced the bruising under Farah’s jaw.

The markings from the strangulation were always reminders of her victories. It was almost as if Rosalind brought Farah back to life time and time again, making sure Farah’s life revolved around her only. She had the power to end Farah whenever she liked. Rosalind got off on tasting the almost fading life beneath her body.

And, oh, how Farah liked it too. That was a surprise to Rosalind at first. Farah seemed uptight, even when she was younger and had considerably less responsibility. Rosalind began to notice the signs of arousal on Farah when the older woman entered the room—how Farah wanted Rosalind’s approval and attention. Rosalind found it annoying until she realized she could make use of it. She could enjoy it, even. Rosalind reveled in testing if Farah would sneak around the school with her, if Farah would bend her ethics for Rosalind’s affection and praise.

The bucking of Farah’s hips drew a guttural moan from Rosalind’s own pink mouth. Farah’s desperation for release rivaled her desperation for air. Rosalind move her own pelvis against Farah’s, studying how the younger woman beneath her reacted. Farah trembles and shakes at the contact, gesturing for more.

Rosalind backs away for only a moment to marvel at the band of bruises wrapped around Farah’s neck and collarbones. Farah didn’t seem to be wheezing and gasping any longer, but Rosalind had an idea to remedy that.

With her long, leather-detailed coat still intact, Rosalind removed her undergarments and reached down to feel how slick her folds were after choking Farah.

An edge present in her voice, Rosalind offers for Farah to taste what she’s done. Rosalind climbs atop Farah and sits on her pale, flushed face. Farah’s arms were too weak to grip Rosalind’s legs and spread the woman’s folds herself. That didn’t matter to Rosalind. Instead, she lowered herself onto Farah, resting her full weight against Farah’s mouth.

“Get to work, Farah. I’m waiting.”

Farah laps up Rosalind’s wetness before locating and sucking on Rosalind’s clit with what little breath and strength she had left. Farah would prefer this over cool air on her tongue.

—

Bloom tried to tell Farah that Rosalind wasn’t a monster, that she had a reason to lie. Farah felt warm rage spill under her skin. Even as Farah yearned to shut down the conversation in any way possible to focus on the tasks at hand, she found herself responding in a heated but measured tone.

“Rosalind gave you just enough information to string you along. She's manipulating you. It's what she does.” Finally, it all clicked. Rosalind pulled down the school’s defenses from the Stone Circle, allowing the Burned Ones in. Farah couldn’t tell if she was pleased she was right about Rosalind or crushed that once again Rosalind proves that she will be relentless in getting what she wants even if it hurts others. Even if it hurts Farah.

Later when Farah catches Bloom, she has to reconcile the fact that Rosalind was right. She was correct about Bloom’s ancient power being able to defeat the Burned Ones. Her methods though… Farah reassured herself that her stance was unwavering. Even if Rosalind’s information was correct, her motives were not. Surely that was enough evidence to suggest Farah was vindicated in her actions since the start of term.

Still, it pained Farah to recount how Bloom had spent one night with Rosalind and unlocked ancient fairy magic, magic everyone thought was lost. Farah had to push through the instinct to be envious that Rosalind considered Bloom special. With a shake of her head, Farah thought about how Bloom was special and that she wouldn’t let Rosalind taint her relationship with Bloom.

Unsurprised by their eventual reuniting, Farah’s eyes were distant when she heard Rosalind’s judgmental voice. “You buried them. How noble.” Her tone was degrading. Rosalind always perceived Farah’s humanity as a weakness. Not wanting her back to Rosalind, Farah turned to face the woman she had so much history with. Farah was thankful to be wearing a turtleneck at this meeting, not wanting her bare skin to catch Rosalind’s eyes.

Throughout their exchange, Rosalind tried various manipulation tactics on Farah. Mysteriously withholding knowledge, acting exhausted by Farah’s behavior, centering her version of events…

Finally, after no luck in her efforts to control Farah, Rosalind gets to the point, “I fear you lack the composure to lead the next generation into it.” If she couldn’t persuade Farah to get close to her again, she had no use for Alfea’s current headmistress.

Farah finally takes the bait, sits beside Rosalind, and retorts, “And there it is. Once I stepped out from under your shadow, I saw a world full of light. Turns out this place isn't miserable. It was just you.” The two women were mere inches away from each other. Eyes found lips found eyes found lips. Their conversation turned breathy as Rosalind pulled another tactic into the conversation—Queen Luna and Andreas.

“So…” Rosalind shifts her body closer to Farah, “now all we have to talk about is you. I think you should take a sabbatical. Head to the mountains. Take a break.” Rosalind made her voice husky and entrancing now, knowing it used to be one of Farah’s weaknesses. The final nail in the coffin was uttered, “You've worked so hard, Farah.”

Praise. Gods, Farah used to melt and become moldable when Rosalind praised her. However, this time, when Rosalind tried it, Farah decided it was her turn to grab at Rosalind.

In all the confidence and defiance she could muster, she looked into Rosalind’s eyes and emphasized, “I am the headmistress of Alfea. And there's no way I'm leaving the school in your hands.”

With their faces so close that their noses were about to touch, Farah pulled away, determined not to fall back into old ways with Rosalind.

As if things were still going according to plan, Rosalind let slip, “I know that…” At this, Farah stopped in her tracks. She had heard this tone before, usually right before pain mixed with pleasure.

Rosalind stands and the crunching of leaves indicate that she walks closer to Farah. A familiar sensation creeps around Farah’s neck.

—

Rosalind came up behind Farah, pressing her body against the younger woman’s back. Rosalind’s voice whispered in Farah’s ear as she reached around to grab her throat. Rosalind’s other hand hiked up Farah’s pencil skirt and slid her fingers under the waistline of Farah’s panties.

“You were quite loud last time. Naughty, aren’t you?” Slow, husky words wrapped around Farah’s head and into her ears.

Already feeling like a live electrical wire in the rain from Rosalind’s touch, Farah would try, truly try to keep her choked gasps silent, but she knew it would be impossible. Her next inhale whistles through her constricted airway, and her lips already start to gape. Farah’s eyes flutter, and she cannot help but move her hips—hard and already desperate—against Rosalind’s hand lingering over Farah’s vulva.

Whimpering the best she can with Rosalind’s hand at her throat, Farah bucks forward towards the woman’s other hand, eager to feel the contact against her throbbing wetness. Feeling merciful, Rosalind relents. She thrusts two fingers into the writhing form in front of her. It wasn’t long before Rosalind decided to add another finger, stretching out Farah. Feeling the clear physical evidence of Rosalind’s influence over Farah was quite exciting. Again, Rosalind wanted to push it, test it.

“Could you stay quiet while taking my fist, do you think?”

Farah’s walls tighten around Rosalind’s fingers as she starts to twitch more frequently and her throat spasms under Rosalind’s iron-tight grip. Used to their almost daily sessions, Farah was starting to crave the moments she would begin to slip away. She welcomes the familiar dark spots teasing at the edge of her vision and the way her lungs begged for relief.

Farah’s ears ring; her face throbs. Rosalind’s thrusts get harder and harder, her grip gets tighter and tighter. A pool of hot white pleasure begins to form at the base of Farah’s spine as her eyes roll back in her head.

All Farah wanted was to be filled by Rosalind, wanted to be Rosalind’s. She wanted Rosalind to admit to mutual feelings and claim Farah. With each pump in and out of Rosalind’s fingers, Farah almost inaudibly wheezed, “I’m yours, yours, yours, yours.”

Tongue hanging out, drooling, mindless, and mine, Rosalind thought satisfactorily. Farah sags back against Rosalind, her muscles losing their strength with the continued restriction of oxygen.

Edging Farah on the precipice of unconsciousness, Rosalind finally releases her white-knuckled grip on Farah’s throat. She calculates the perfect amount of pressure to keep Farah submissive and constricted but awake. Rosalind continues to pound her fingers into Farah, making contact with the tender spot internally that she knew Farah liked. Farah’s eyes flicker until Rosalind takes her thumbnail and flicks it sharply against Farah’s sensitive, swollen clit.

What would have been a cry of pleasure and pain, is stifled by Rosalind’s hand that had moved from Farah’s red, marked neck to cover her mouth. Rosalind feels the other woman’s rasps against her palm, begging to be let out as Farah comes.

Rosalind bites down on the earlobe of the woman coming undone before her. She then breathes in Farah’s ear, “You’re mine? What makes you think I want you?”

—

“The rest of the world might believe it…” Farah is hoisted up by Rosalind’s magic, feeling the echoes of Rosalind’s hands at her throat.

“And if they don’t,” Rosalind continues, “what the fuck are they gonna do about it?”

[brokendreamscreation-moved]

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄!

whether it be melodies that give you inspiration for your muse or songs that get you into the writing mood — pick 10 songs you find to give you the urge, the drive, or the creativity to write for your muse!

Raining Sunshine - Miranda Cosgrove

Lucid’s “theme song”. Captures his cheerful, carefree personality overall

Oh, What a Beautiful Morning - Jeremy Jordan

Another “theme song” for Lucid. With it being Lucifer’s VA singing it fits perfectly as a song for Lucid. His upbeat attitude and positive outlook on each day in Heaven

A Million Dreams - P!nk cover

Lucid’s wishful dreaming of more in life than just his duties as the Angel of Dreams and Illusions

Sneaking Out of Heaven - Waterparks

Rebellious and sneaky nature of sneaking out of Heaven to visit Lucifer and/or travel back in the past to the Garden of Eden

Where No One Goes - Moa Antonia cover

Playful music to match Lucid’s adventurous energy. Often used for the more carefree rps and plotting scenarios

Out There - Hunchback of Notre Dame

The need and longing for Lucid to see more outside the walls of his “gilded cage”. He longs to interact with the Winner’s, to walk freely in Heaven amongst them and not remain as the councils secret

Waiting in the Wings - Caleb Hayes cover

Another longing song to be out of his “gilded cage” as well as be allowed to do more than just create dreams and illusions. He knows he can do more and has potential, just like Lucifer did

Trustfall - P!nk

Lucid encouraging others to trust him, falling together in a safe space in a playful manner. Usually with Lucifer, Samael, and/or Adam

Safe & Sound - Kurt Hugo

Little Lucid vibes, particularly the Cherub Heir Verse. It goes with comforting him from the chaos outside during Exterminations

Battle Cry - Imagine Dragons

Darkest Light Verse. Lucid at some point consumes the Fruit of Knowledge. When the seeds of Roo sprout within him they take over the angels will and mind. It’s as though nothing can stop the root of evil and he cannot be saved

Tagged by: multiple people

Tagging: @helluva-hazbins (for Lu), @hells-greatestdad @themosthatedbeingg @heaven-said @originemesis and anyone else who wants to!

[lutulalu]

Mun is 36 years old. Rules? Don't be a jerk (OOC), don't cause drama (OOC), try to use good grammar and spelling, IC does not equal OOC (Lutulalu can be sassy), 18+ only. Shipping may occur if there's chemistry. This is a sideblog for saltysciencesixer. Follows back from saltysciencesixer. About the Muse under the cut!

Name: Lutulalu (No Relation to Cthuhlu) Species: Eldritch Squid Creature? ????? ????????????????????????????! Age: Twenty-one Billion Years Gender: A Multitude but Uses She/Her Pronouns for Convenience Height: Variable (can be microscopic or star-sized, but is typically 5'0) Occupation: Junkyard Owner, Junk Artist, and Amateur Inventor Positive Character Traits: Creative, Laidback, Fun-Loving Negative Character Traits: Sassy, Commitment Issues/Flaky, Cynical Likes: Junk, Parties, Relaxation, Cruising Through Space in Her Bathtub-Ship (you heard that right), Fish, Ancient Chanting - Benign and Evil, Cake, Baking (In More Ways than One), Screaming Dislikes: Blood and Gore (it ruins her aesthetic), Being Called "Lulu" (but will accept Lu), Clinginess, Art Critics, Lawyers, Small Dogs Bio: Lutulalu is a young eldritch entity from beyond the stars who was kicked out of the eldritch club (by her own asexual parent, no less) for not breaking reality enough. In fact, usually, she's picking up the pieces of broken or dead realities and making art out of them. She typically has a pocket, portable junkyard asteroid as well as a mini-island stuffed in her jacket pockets and cruises around the multiverse in her hand-made Bathtub-Ship titled the S.S. Rubbadubdub which is powered by squeaking a rubber ducky repeatedly. She's mostly out for a good time and trying to get her junk-art pieces into art galleries and rich people's homes.

[skullkxd]

How much does your muse know about the Pokèmon world? Repost, don't reblog ; Bold whatever your muse knows! Italics is a maybe.

MAJOR GAME EVENTS

Mewtwo's Creation | Red battles against Team Rocket | Team Rocket's Radio Tower attack | Shadow Pokèmon | Kyogre and Groudon's awakening | Rayquaza's awakening | the meteor headed towards Hoenn | Cyrus controlling Dialga and Palkia | the Distortion World | Team Plasma's attacks | the shooting of the Ultimate Weapon | the existence of different universes and timelines | Ultra Space | Ultra Beasts | the existence of Fallers | the Darkest Day | Sada or Turo's death* | Paradox Pokèmon | Dialga and Palkia's Origin Form

HISTORY

the history of the Burnt Tower | the legends of the two Unovan Dragons | Arceus's Creation mythos | the Kalos war | Calyrex's legend | the Emperor of Paldea | the discovery of Area Zero | Hisui's legends | Team Galactic's origins

ANTAGONISTS

Team Rocket | Team GO Rocket | Giovanni's involvement with Team Rocket | Team Snagem | Team Aqua | Team Magma | Team Galactic | Team Plasma | Neo Team Plasma | Team Flare | Lysandre's involvement with Team Flare | Malva's involvement with Team Flare | Team Skull | Aether Foundation's crimes | Team Yell | Macro Cosmos' crimes | Team Star | Volo

LEGENDARY POKEMON

Articuno | Moltres | Zapdos | Mew | Mewtwo | Ho-Oh | Lugia | Celebi | Raikou | Entei | Suicune | Kyogre | Groudon | Rayquaza | Deoxys | Jirachi | Regirock | Regice | Registeel | Latias | Latios | Dialga | Palkia | Giratina | Arceus | Uxie | Mesprit | Azelf | Heatran | Regigigas | Cresselia | Darkrai | Phione | Manaphy | Shaymin | Zekrom | Reshiram | Kyurem | Victini | Cobalion | Terrakion | Virizion | Keldeo | Tornadus | Thundurus | Landorus | Meloetta | Genesect | Xerneas | Yveltal | Zygarde | Diancie | Hoopa | Volcanion | Cosmog | Cosmoem | Solgaleo | Lunala | Type: Null | Silvally | Tapu Koko | Tapu Bulu | Tapu Lele | Tapu Fini | Magearna | Marshadow | Zeraora | Meltan | Melmetal | Zacian | Zamazenta | Eternatus | Calyrex | Kubfu | Urshifu | Regieleki | Regidrago | Glastrier | Spectrier | Zarude | Enamorus | Koraidon | Miraidon | Ting-Lu | Chien-Pao | Wo-Chien | Chi-Yu | Ogerpon | Okidogi | Munkidori | Fezandipiti | Terapagos

ULTRA BEASTS

Nihilego | Buzzwole | Pheromosa | Xurkitree | Celesteela | Kartana | Guzzlord | Poipole | Naganadel | Stakataka | Blacephalon | Necrozma

REGION LOCKED STUFF

Safari Zones | Pokèathlon | Contests | Mega Evolution | Z-Moves | the Island Challenge | Dynamax/Gigantamax | Terastallizing | Regional forms

RPC-SPECIFIC

Mount Silver is Haunted | Mount Silver also erupted once | Team Rocket cloning/genetics experiments | the PWT winners | Area Zero is under armed surveillance | people can get Pokèrus | People with Pokèmon powers | Legendary Pokèmon are able to shapeshift into humans | People can have connections with Legendary Pokèmon, even without capturing them | Area Zero crystals corruption | Missingno/Glitch City

[endlss-voiid]

A   PROFILE   OF   YOUR   MUSE   .

repost,   do   not   reblog,   with   the   information   of   your   muse,   including   headcanons,   etc.   if   you   fail   to   achieve   some   of   the   facts,   add   some   others   of   your   own !

NAME. Lucien Lupin Delmont. He keeps his birth name, Lucien, hidden but if someone does learn it and calls him by that name, he will likely ignore them until they call him Lupin. Lucien is a French name and means light. NICKNAME(S). Lupe, Lu. ALIAS(ES). The void. AGE. 24. His void essence, however, is thousands of years old—some may say billions—if the rumors are true that the void was here long before everything in the universe existed. SPECIES. Void fox, dark entity, cosmic horror. GENDER.  Male. (he/him/it) gender non-conforming. He isn't a fan of stereotypes or fitting into a category. ORIENTATION. Demisexual/ Bisexual. INTERESTS.  The occult, magic, tarot card readings, giving psychic readings, wood carving, painting, stargazing, taxidermy, black and white photography, cooking, ghost hunting, botany, fencing, martial arts, space. PROFESSION. Gun for hire, psychic medium. and being the void. BODY TYPE.   Muscular/ athletic. He is at peak, psychical condition. EYES. He has mismatched colored eyes, one that is pure white and one that is deep, vivid shade of purple. HAIR. Raven black, shoulder length. It looks like it hasn't been combed in days. SKIN.  Deathly pale. He has thermal facial scarring on the left hand side of his face. He has many tattoos covering his body. FACE.He has been called unusual looking in the past by many people who have tried to insult him, especially after  he obtained his thermal facial scars. He sees his unusual looks as a blessing  rather than a hindrance. HEIGHT. 6'4. (5'3 in his Wolverine variant verse) ANTAGONISTS. His fear of being powerlessness and confined spaces. His anger and self destructive tendencies. COLORS. Black, purple, blood red. FRUITS. Blackberries, grapefruits, lemons, mango's, oranges, coconuts. DRINKS.  Black coffee, toffee latte, pumpkin spiced latte, orange pekoe tea. ALCOHOLIC   BEVERAGES.  Orange martinis. SMOKES?  He tends to smoke only herbal cigarettes like clove and cinnamon. DRUGS? He tends to steer clear of narcotic substances, as his past experiences with them have been far from pleasant. DRIVERS   LICENSE?  He has a motorcycle license but he prefers to teleport or use portals when traveling to different places. 

TAGGED BY. No one

TAGGING. @wickedslip @ripgray @bledtitanium @choserage (Ana) @hellsfavor and anyone else who comes across this.

[legendofzoodles]

https://at.tumblr.com/legendofzoodles/lu-deepest-fear-headcanons-2/8rz4zjlq8qfu

Concept: botw Link really liked water, from spending time in Zora’s Domain as a child.

But now, he cannot stand fully submerging himself, because it reminds him of being submerged in the shrine of resurrection.

Thanks for responding that's such a cool idea! Plus you encouraged me to look back on some of my old posts and write this. :)

~~~

Waterlogged 

The wooden ladle turned practiced circles around the cast iron pot, occasionally scraping the bottom as it swirled and stirred a delicious amber broth until every ingredient sang together. Although appetizing, as any soup could be prepared by his hands, it would be amiss for Wild to proclaim its shallow murkiness to the perfectly clear lake before him. The vista of small waterfalls churning out endless replenishing streams, did little to taint the crystal like body of water they fed into. 

Although, it’s transparency was too quickly muddied as a chorus of flailing arms drummed up sediment and sand from the lakebed to gather around frantic bobbing heads. Wind was showing them a pirate game, using an inflatable ball that of course Legend just so happened to have stashed somewhere in his bottomless stash of junk. What started as a curious new way to pass the time soon morphed into a two-teamed mess of a sport, if one could call it that. Tetra’s crew would have been impressed with the amount of rule breaking. 

Even the prissy Captain and stick-up-his-ass Rancher joined in. Surprisingly they were the two dirtiest cheats, childishly bending the rules to give his team an advantage only to feign innocence when the other caught him out on it. 

‘Looks fun’, Wild mused, watching the sailor mediate another ‘out of bounds’ argument between Sky and Four. Smiles adorning their faces. 

Time looked on from a shady patch near the bank, arms crossed and two-handed blade ‘at the ready’ under the guise of keeping watch. But they knew better. 

He too, seeing Wild frequently take pause from his soup to watch the game, knew better than to wrongly assume he didn’t want to join in. However, when he got up and walked over to him the champion shook his head before he could say a word. 

“Go on.” The old man slightly tilted his head in their direction, quietly disarming Wild of his ladle. “You deserve a break.”

He wasn’t given an option to get it back. Unwilling to leave yet and not knowing what to do with his hands he awkwardly folded them, letting his feet shuffle on the spot as his eyes wandered back to the others. “That looks pretty tiring to me.” 

Time started stirring the soup, copying Wild’s technique near perfectly. “It’s little more than floating. Besides, someone needs to add some civility to that game.”

Wild smirked, sucking in air through his teeth in a mock gasp. “You’re asking me?”

“You seem quite eager to join them.”

“No.” A sigh. “Just...it looks kinda familiar, I guess, maybe.”

The steady rhythm of Time’s stirring faulted and the man trained his eyes on that of Wild’s, waiting for that distinctive spaced out look. “Everything alright...?

It didn’t come. “Yeah yeah, fine,” Wild affirmed. A pause, his body still for the briefest moment. Then, a final glance at the sparkling water sent unfolded arms to tug off his tunic. “You know what? They need another player so they have even teams.” Catching Time’s smile he threw off the rest of his layers, swaths of mismatched blues and tans were cast into the air as his guided him towards the bank, leaving a pile of mess behind him. 

The water was much cooler than anticipated, sending fleeting trails of ice up through his veins with every step forward, each smaller than the last. Cold lingered within his chest, settling like frost, his breathing turned shallower and shallower as his body was further encased in the deepening pool. Until...he was rather unceremoniously submerged. 

Wild’s entrance was welcomed by a score of cheers and light splashes that his bobbing head almost flinched away from, just barely, feet eventually lifting off the waterbed.  

Adept limbs flowed with well practiced fluidity, the movement helping warm them. He didn’t need to hear the rules, whether that was because he’d been paying attention while spectating or deep down it was too similar to a game he played as a child, he couldn’t tell. 

Wind bounced the ball towards him, it flew up and hid in the sun’s blinding light before coming back down as an inflated octo balloon. By reflex Wild’s muscles tensed and his arm jerked to attention, batting it away to have it land into the scaly arms of a Zora. He couldn’t put a name to the blurry face when they were abruptly shoved under the water by another, then another, then another. 

Rarely, memories came and went in small bursts like this. Never any less welcome but easier to ride out, for his mind allowed the body to move and allowed him to almost act out the memory as it happened. He remembered this game and it was stupid, a dumb excuse to goof off with the Zora guards- these figures looked vaguely like them. 

Their mock battle for the balloon continued, coloured fins churning up the water in the scramble, and a smile split Wild’s cheeks though confusion stained his expression. Choking up a laugh his hand waved away at nothing, as if it would make the vision fade. 

However it did, quite suddenly in fact, when a scaly mass was thrown against his side, another faceless Zora crashed into him. Suddenly forced underwater, the volley of hues were lost into a growing murky night sky filled with dots of light breaking through plumes of granite dust stirred up from below. Falling further still, those strange stars grew bigger, bleeding together until he saw blue again in circular lights. Familiar circular lights. 

Suddenly, more blue, darker in hue and crueler in the way hands them held him down. Dense fluid squeezed in from very direction onto every, pressing down with the weight of a kingdom. His limbs became rigid. Paralysed. He was floating yet he felt so trapped, eyes wide as they stared helplessly towards the lights. 

They stared back, waiting for him above the surface.   

Desperate, a cry escapes past quivering lips and what’s left of his breath escapes with it in a cluster of bubbles. A burst of sound through the dissonance of swishing muffled ambience shutting him away in this dark basin again. Now the watery coffin that staged his brush with death. 

His mind slips and the light fades...

...dimmer

...dimmer

...dimmer

...how long until he wakes up?

~~~

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist

Trying to convey Wild’s love-hate relationship with water was hard and it got a little too abstract at the end but I’m fairly happy with it. Thank you for the ask anon! :))

p.s. I realised too late that instead of a ball game in a lake they should have been surfing at the beach. Then I could have called the fic ‘Waterboarding’, get it? Cuz he’d be water boarding and then get waterboarded. I know waterboarding drowns the person with a soaked cloth, but he’s drowning so...it kinda works right? Still, messed up tho.

[sinniel]

Questions abouth the author

Merci de m'avoir taguée @ladyniniane, même si c'était parfois un peu compliqué de répondre à certaines questions ^^

About me

When did you start writing?

J'ai commencé à écrire vers mes neuf-dix ans, après avoir passé mon enfance à écouter puis par la suite raconter des histoires avec mon frère.

Are there genres/themes you enjoy reading different to the ones you write?

J'aime beaucoup la poésie, et j'ai énormément lu étant plus jeune. Mon parcours scolaire m'a également fait découvrir beaucoup de genres et de thèmes différents, et si certaines œuvres ne m'ont clairement pas plue à l'époque (La Bête Humaine de Zola notamment ou encore les Mémoires de De Gaule), d'autres m'ont touchée et fascinée (Les Liaisons Dangereuses de Laclos ou encore L'Odyssée d'Homère).

Mes genres préférés restent la fantasy, le fantastique et les œuvres mythologiques. J'aime beaucoup les univers développés par la science-fiction également, mais je n'en lis quasiment pas, ce qui fait que lorsque j'écris dans l'espace, la magie reste présente.

Is there an author you want to emulate, or one to whom you're often compared?

Je ne cherche pas réellement à reproduire le style d'un auteur, mais je sais que je suis fortement influencée par Jacques Prévert. Une amie m'a déjà comparé à des groupes de musiques tels que Artics Monkeys.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space?

Comme pour le dessin, j'écris généralement à une table (sur ordinateur ou papier) ou dans mon lit.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Laisser mon cerveau joyeusement divaguer en écoutant de la musique atmosphérique (en ce moment la BO d'Elden Ring aide beaucoup curieusement, particulièrement celle de Leyndell.)

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Oh que oui ! La présence de l'eau est assez importante dans mes écrits, et ça n'étonnera pas grand monde de savoir que j'ai grandi et que je vis en Bretagne. Les légendes de chez moi m'ont également beaucoup marquées, et je ne peux pas m'empêcher de faire des références en écrivant des personnages ou des lieux.

Are there any recurring themes of your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Beaucoup de mes histoires, et ce dès mon plus jeune âge, tournent autour de trois thèmes récurents : le deuil, l'absence, et la puissance de l'amour, qu'il soit platonique ou non, dans ses bons et ses mauvais côtés. Ce qui ne m'étonne pas beaucoup, au vu de mon passé, et des œuvres qui m'ont influencée.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favourite character?

... Monsieur le juge c'est pas une question facile ça... On va dire Islin, vu que c'est l'un de mes personnages qui me suis depuis bien... Dix ans ? Je crois ? Ma dou que le temps passe vite.

J'ai déjà parlé de lui il y a longtemps, un aveugle ayant une soeur jumelle, Aria, et qui a vécu une enfance difficile (avec entre autre kidnapping, abandon et brimades et harcèlement dans le village ou il habitait au début de l'histoire que j'ai commencé avec une amie). Vu qu'il a -enter autre- le pouvoir de visiter des timelines différentes, ça me permet d'approfondir son caractère, de voir ce qui aurait pu se passer si... Résultat, c'est passé du "ressemble à un bébou, est un bébou" à "ressemble à un bébou, mais pourrais te tuer sans la moindre hésitation si tu fais du mal à ceux qu'il aime"

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Sans doute la plupart ? À part ceux que j'ai écris pour être des ordures, j'ai du mal à ne pas me sentir attachée envers mes personnages. Après, qui sait, je pense que certains aimeraient me coller des baffes vu tout ce que je leur fait subir ^^

Which of your characters would you dislike most if you met them?

Euuuuuuuuh... Plus que détester, ce serait surtout en avoir une crainte sévère : Artémissia, la mère d'Aéria et la patronne de la mafia de la ville censée partir bientôt à la retraite. "Censée".

Tell me more about the process of coming up with your characters.

Généralement je commence par l'apparence (en quelques traits simples : âge, couleurs d'yeux, de cheveux et de peau) puis je cherche un prénom qui collerait à l'histoire que j'imagine. Une de mes fanfictions annonce le twist de fin par le prénom de mon héroïne qui a une signification particulière en breton par exemple.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

À part la propension de mes personnages d'être des femmes aux cheveux courts qui ont une sale tendance à se sacrifier pour les autres... La plupart feraient tout pour ceux qu'elles considèrent proches, mais certaines sont plus prêtes à se salir les mains que d'autres. Et tous, absolument tous, ont vécu soit un deuil, soit un abandon.

How do you picture your characters?

Je les imagine souvent dans des scènes que je joue dans ma tête. J'ai un mal de chien à les séparer de leur contexte, ce qui fait que des fois, c'est compliqué de les dessiner. Ils gagnent en netteté au fur et à mesure que l'histoire avance

My Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

La plupart du temps c'est parce qu'une histoire a décidé de s'inviter dans mon cerveau, et elle devient tellement omniprésente que je dois la poser sur le papier avant que je ne devienne chèvre. Certaines fois, c'est pour exprimer les émotions qui bouillonnent en moi et qui n'arrivent pas à sortir autrement.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

J'adore quand mes lecteurs me disent que mes écrits leur ont fait ressentir les émotions de mes personnages. J'avoue que j'ai aussi une certaine fierté lorsqu'on me dit que j'ai réussi à faire les pleurer.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work?

Comme quelqu'un qui les a ému.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Ma description des ambiances, des lieux et des émotions. C'est sans doute parce que j'ai commencé à écrire de la poésie, mais j'arrive assez bien à retranscrire des atmosphères et des sentiments via les mots.

How do you feel about your own writing?

Je sens et je vois que j'ai fait beaucoup de chemin. De mes premiers écrits que j'ai du mal à relire à ceux plus récents, on voit clairement une sacrée évolution. Mais ce qui est assez drôle, c'est que déjà toute petite j'avais des thèmes qui me tenaient à cœur et qui le sont restés. Ils ont juste évolués.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Oui, tout comme je continuerais de dessiner. C'est quelque chose qui me permet de m'évader, je ne vois pas pourquoi j'arrêterai.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? if it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

Honnêtement, sans doute un peu un mix des deux. Mais c'est surtout ce que moi j'aime faire qui prend le dessus. Je peux suivre des thèmes, des appels à texte, mais au final, j'en fais toujours ce que je veux, et je finis par retomber dans mes thèmes, mes images, mes sons. Parfois ça met du temps à venir. Ça peut danser dans mon crâne des mois, des années avant que je ne le couche quelque part. Alors ça ne sert à rien de suivre les trend. De toute manière, on ne peut pas écrire pour tout le monde, alors autant écrire pour soi.

Je ne tagg personne, mais si certains veulent s'essayer à l'exercice, n'hésitez pas ^^

[victorystalline]

Repost, don't reblog ; Bold whatever your muse knows! Italics is a maybe.

Nico doesn't know shit lmfao. Anything in italics is verse/discord dependent.

MAJOR GAME EVENTS

Mewtwo's Creation | Red battles against Team Rocket | Team Rocket's Radio Tower attack | Shadow Pokèmon | Kyogre and Groudon's awakening | Rayquaza's awakening | the meteor headed towards Hoenn | Cyrus controlling Dialga and Palkia | the Distortion World | Team Plasma's attacks | the shooting of the Ultimate Weapon | the existence of different universes and timelines | Ultra Space | Ultra Beasts | the existence of Fallers | the Darkest Day | Sada or Turo's death | Paradox Pokèmon | Dialga and Palkia's Origin Form

HISTORY

the history of the Burnt Tower | the legends of the two Unovan Dragons | Arceus's Creation mythos | the Kalos war | Calyrex's legend | the Emperor of Paldea | the discovery of Area Zero (lmao) | Hisui's legends | Team Galactic's origins

ANTAGONISTS

Team Rocket | Team GO Rocket | Giovanni's involvement with Team Rocket | Team Snagem | Team Aqua | Team Magma | Team Galactic | Team Plasma | Neo Team Plasma | Team Flare | Lysandre's involvement with Team Flare | Malva's involvement with Team Flare | Team Skull | Aether Foundation's crimes | Team Yell | Macro Cosmos' crimes | Team Star (they're cool) | Volo

LEGENDARY POKEMON

Articuno | Moltres | Zapdos | Mew | Mewtwo | Ho-Oh | Lugia | Celebi | Raikou | Entei | Suicune | Kyogre | Groudon | Rayquaza | Deoxys | Jirachi | Regirock | Regice | Registeel | Latias | Latios | Dialga | Palkia | Giratina | Arceus | Uxie | Mesprit | Azelf | Heatran | Regigigas | Cresselia | Darkrai | Phione | Manaphy | Shaymin | Zekrom | Reshiram | Kyurem | Victini | Cobalion | Terrakion | Virizion | Keldeo | Tornadus | Thundurus | Landorus | Meloetta | Genesect | Xerneas | Yveltal | Zygarde | Diancie | Hoopa | Volcanion | Cosmog | Cosmoem | Solgaleo | Lunala | Type: Null | Silvally | Tapu Koko | Tapu Bulu | Tapu Lele | Tapu Fini | Magearna | Marshadow | Zeraora | Meltan | Melmetal | Zacian | Zamazenta | Eternatus | Calyrex | Kubfu | Urshifu | Regieleki | Regidrago | Glastrier | Spectrier | Zarude | Enamorus | Koraidon | Miraidon | Ting-Lu | Chien-Pao | Wo-Chien | Chi-Yu | Ogerpon | Okidogi | Munkidori | Fezandipiti | Terapagos

ULTRA BEASTS

Nihilego | Buzzwole | Pheromosa | Xurkitree | Celesteela | Kartana | Guzzlord | Poipole | Naganadel | Stakataka | Blacephalon | Necrozma

REGION LOCKED STUFF

Safari Zones | Pokèathlon | Contests | Mega Evolution | Z-Moves | the Island Challenge | Dynamax/Gigantamax | Terastallizing | Regional forms

RPC-SPECIFIC

Mount Silver is Haunted | Mount Silver also erupted once | Team Rocket cloning/genetics experiments | the PWT winners | Area Zero is under armed surveillance | people can get Pokèrus | People with Pokèmon powers | Legendary Pokèmon are able to shapeshift into humans | People can have connections with Legendary Pokèmon, even without capturing them | Area Zero crystals corruption | Missingno/Glitch City