#or words will over lap and I misread something

[lowdownlolo]

꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. 𝒽ℯ 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝓈, 𝓈𝒽ℯ 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝓈 | ℊℯℴ𝓇ℊℯ 𝓌ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓁ℯ𝓎 ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

𝐬𝐮𝐦: 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚? 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐭?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬/𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝟐 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞!!

𝐥𝐨 𝐥𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬: 𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬! 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭! 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲!! 💋💖

You were leaning against the wall in the Gryffindor common room, a half-finished essay on your lap. Across the room, George Weasley was sitting with Fred, laughing over something they were planning. His laugh was loud and infectious, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself smiling.

“You’re staring,” your best friend nudged you, her tone teasing.

“I am not!” you protested, quickly looking back at your parchment.

“Sure,” she said with a smirk. “You’ve only rewritten that same sentence three times while looking at him. It’s fine, though. He’s cute.”

You risked another glance at George and found him already looking at you. Your eyes locked for a split second before he quickly turned back to Fred, but not before you caught the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

Little did you know, George was having a similar conversation with his twin.

“You’ve got it bad, mate,” Fred teased, clapping him on the back.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” George said, though his eyes betrayed him, flicking back to where you sat.

Fred smirked knowingly. “Well, either do something about it or stop acting like a lovesick puppy. It’s getting embarrassing.”

The next few days were filled with more stolen glances and awkward smiles. George would go out of his way to sit near you in the Great Hall, and you started “accidentally” running into him between classes. It was unspoken, but the spark between you two was undeniable.

One sunny Saturday morning, you were sitting by the lake with your best friend, chatting about nothing in particular, when she suddenly said, “You know, George flirts with everyone. It’s just his thing.”

You frowned, her words hitting you harder than you expected. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s a charmer. Don’t take it personally if he’s just having fun.”

The thought lingered, casting doubt over every interaction you’d had with George. Had you misread everything?

Meanwhile, in the common room, Fred was stirring up his own chaos.

“You know, she said she thinks you’re immature,” Fred said casually, as George tried to figure out the best way to approach you.

George froze. “What?”

“I overheard her telling her friend. Something about how your pranks are a bit much.”

Fred didn’t think much of it, but to George, it felt like a punch to the gut. All the moments he’d spent trying to impress you suddenly felt foolish.

When you and George crossed paths that evening, the air between you was colder. You smiled tentatively at him, but he barely acknowledged you. Stung, you decided to match his energy.

It started small. You stopped saying hello in the hallways, and he stopped going out of his way to sit near you in the Great Hall. Then, the pranks began.

One morning, you woke up to find your bag filled with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. By the time you fished everything out, you were late for class and covered in soot.

That evening, George opened his Charms textbook to find all the pages enchanted to sing “God Save the Queen” whenever he tried to read them. Fred was doubled over with laughter as George glared at the book.

“Oh, this is war,” he muttered.

The pranks escalated. You hexed his broomstick so it would turn upside down mid-air during Quidditch practice, and he charmed your quill to write nothing but embarrassing poems about him during class. Everyone in Gryffindor was talking about the rivalry, and Fred was thoroughly over it.

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with excitement after a Quidditch victory when Fred decided enough was enough. He dragged you and George into an empty broom cupboard and locked the door.

“What the—Fred!” you yelled, pounding on the door.

“Sort it out, you two!” Fred’s voice called from the other side. “And don’t come out until you’ve stopped being idiots!”

You turned to find George standing stiffly on the other side of the small space, arms crossed.

“Well, this is just perfect,” he muttered.

“You think I want to be stuck in here with you?” you snapped.

The tension was thick, but after a few moments of silence, George sighed. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is with me, but—”

“My problem?” you interrupted, glaring at him. “You’re the one who started ignoring me out of nowhere!”

He stared at you, confused. “You’re the one who thinks I’m immature.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Fred told me you said—”

“Wait.” You cut him off, realization dawning. “My friend told me you flirt with everyone and that I shouldn’t take you seriously.”

There was a long pause as the pieces fell into place. Then, George let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fred. Of course.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, though it was tinged with frustration. “And my friend. Unbelievable.”

“So…” George rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly shy. “You don’t think I’m immature?”

“And you’re not just toying with me?”

“No,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “I’ve liked you for ages. And I was too much of a coward to say anything.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Me too. I mean, I like you too.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Oh.”

When Fred finally unlocked the door, you and George emerged with matching grins. The tension was completely gone, replaced by something warmer and lighter.

Fred took one look at you both and groaned. “Finally!”

George threw an arm around your shoulders, his touch casual but protective. “Well, thanks for the help, mate.”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “Help? I locked you in a cupboard!”

“And it worked,” George said, grinning.

From that day on, the pranks stopped—or rather, they turned into a collaboration. You and George were inseparable, your playful banter taking on a softer edge. And every so often, when Fred saw you two stealing a kiss behind the shelves in the library, he’d shake his head and mutter, “About time..”

taglist: @wingyattium @georgeplease @kisses4fred

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

HOLY FUCK I CAN PROJECT MY EYE THING ONTO DAZAAAAAAAAAAAI!!!!

Okay: Hi, I’m Robin, my eyes are fucked up! Im almost always seeing double esp when im reading or doing things like that, this causes trouble because obviously. My eyes don’t talk to eachother like they’re supposed to and one eye is better at everything than the other. The solution to this is that I cover one of my eyes while im reading (I always cover my left eye, but technically I’m supposed to cover both eyes interchangeably or smth, I’m actively making the problem worse lol)

WHAT IF THIS IS WHY TEENAGE DAZAI WEARS THE EYE BANDAGES????

[chrissv4mp]

𐙚 ᯓ stupid crush — ᡣ𐭩

she didn't understand why she felt like this, why she felt so... warm. especially when you were around. any time you even came within a 5 feet radius of her, she'd feel like she was going to explode. her cheeks would heat up, and she wouldn't know how to act, what to say—she didn't even know how to breathe when you were around her. which reminded her... you were lying right on her chest, and that only made the struggle to breathe worse. she hopes you didn't notice, but with the way your hand ran across her stomach so often, she was sure you might've caught on earlier than she expected. billie had been the one to invite you over after you got off your shift, and you happily accepted her invitation because she was never really the one to ask.

so, here you were, your bodies laying on her bed as a song from your shared playlist plays at a low volume from the speaker on her nightstand. the rain from outside hit her window, the quiet pitter-patter noises making the whole scene complete. it was something straight out of some classic friends-to-lovers film. her bedside lamp was on, lighting the room up just enough so that you could see her face and she could see yours. she was counting each of the little freckles on your face as you shut your eyes, relaxing into her. she ran a hand through your hair, her fingers scratching your scalp so softly, so carefully as she lulled you even further into a sleepy state of mind. she was praying you didn't hear the fast beating of her heart as she held you, not moving too much because she was scared that she'd do something wrong and you'd leave.

she grabbed her phone from her pocket, careful not to make too much noise as she unlocked her phone and went into her voice notes. she was sure you were asleep by now, your gentle breathing and quiet demeanor, a crystal clear sign. but, as she played the most recent one, titled 'stupid crush,' she regretted not making sure that you were actually asleep. her voice erupted from the speaker on her nightstand, and the first words that were heard were, "this is fucking stupid. i... love y/n. there was that—?" until billie finally came to her senses and paused it, the music resuming almost immediately. if her heart wasn't racing, it sure as hell was now. you stirred in your... sleep?—daze?—she didn't know, but now you were looking directly into her eyes with the... softest expression on your face. your eyes spoke for you, but billie was sure she was misreading the smile that began to creep onto your face. you were going to laugh. make fun of her—

"what's so 'fucking stupid' about that?" you giggle softly, voice slightly raspy and eyes glossed over with multiple emotions. all of which were for billie to decipher because she knew damn well she wasn't gonna get any answers from between your pretty pink lips until she finally admitted her feelings. but she didn't know what to say, and not even the music playing softly in the background calmed her anymore. she shut off her phone, tossing it to the empty side of the bed as she gulped quietly, "tell me, i'm quite interested." you sat up, sitting on her lap as you always did because you could never not be at least somewhat in her personal space. maybe that's part of what helped develop her crush on you. her stupid crush. on you. her best friend, of all people. she cleared her throat of the suffocating feeling as she sat up straighter, body tensing as she hopelessly murmured, "because you're my best friend. we're—y/n, we can't be—"

"who says we can't be together?" you scoff, a half-amused, half-annoyed look on your face. when she blinked, it was like you were a million miles closer to her, your lips inches apart, breath fanning over her face. she gulped again, eyes scurrying over to the empty side of the bed, biting on her lip nervously as she tried to think about what to say. it wasn't like she didn't want you to be her girlfriend, she was just... scared of messing it all up. when you cupped her cheek and turned her head back towards you, her eyes widened, "gimme one reason." you whisper, eyes darting down to her plump lips as you scoot closer to her body, shorts riding up your thighs. she doesn't respond, feeling frozen in the same song that just ended began to play again through the speaker, "billie," you murmur, lips only inches away from hers, almost brushing against each other as your hand travels down and wraps around the back of her neck, pulling her in closer. when your other hand comes up to her shoulder, she only then decides to speak, "because it'll be ten times harder to let you go."

"then you better hold me tight so that won't happen." you whisper before your lips crash softly against hers, pulling her closer by her neck. she doesn't pull away, your words slowly processing in her head as her own hands cautiously grab a hold of your waist, almost pulling you onto her lower abdomen in an attempt to get you closer. she wanted you two to be whole, even after all the doubt she spat out before. your words sunk deep into her heart, and now she didn't have a worry in the world. as long as you were with her, everything would be fine. she'd just have to hold you. close. tight. secure. as long as possible... and maybe even forever. she smirks against your mouth as she feels your tongue run across her lower lip, pulling away only a few inches as she opens her eyes, staring deeply into yours and never looking away, "so... i guess i should rename the voice note 'stupid girlfriend,' now?" she giggles as you roll your eyes, pushing her shoulder softly, "i think you're the stupid one."

𐙚 amiyaps : guys the landing of my flight scared the absolute SHIT out of me... cus tell me why we were dropping so fast bro 🙁

𐙚 tags : @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @cannibalsclass @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @meliciousmel13 @zayluvss @hrtsdollie

[merakiui]

risky rascality (tsum sex).

azutsum x (female) reader x azul ashengrotto cw: nsfw, non-con, tsum sex, tsum has a dick, ntr, shameless smut, loss of virginity, cumflation, characters written as 18+ note - don't underestimate the importance of body language. (or: azul's tsum misreads your intentions and fucks you.)

You’ve found yourself in Azul’s VIP room plenty of times in the past, so it’s impossible to explain the anxiety that washes over you. Sudden like a devastating tidal wave, it rocks you to your core the moment Azul offers you a casual smile. He’s so charming. You almost forget you’re here for your usual tutoring session and not a study date. One can dream.

“Before we begin, I’ll have to step out for a moment. There’s something that requires my immediate attention. I shouldn’t be too long. In the meantime, would you mind getting your notes out and turning to the chapter we last left off at?”

Having been so caught up in admiring the way he stands in the doorway, you startle at the sound of his smooth voice. “Next chapter… R-Right! Yes, of course! I’ll do that. You do your thing. I’m not going anywhere.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, he shuts the door behind him. The stiffness in your shoulders ebbs away then, and you slouch back against the sofa. With an embarrassed groan, you drag your hands down your face.

Be normal for one minute, (Name). This isn’t anything special.

Something nudges your thigh and you lower your arms to find Azul’s tsum pushing your textbook towards you. He struggles more than he makes any apparent success, and it’s a cute sight that has a smile sprouting on your lips.

“Thanks, little guy.” You lift the book up to spare him of the burden and set it on the table. A cup of tea rests inches away, steam curling from the liquid in fragrant tendrils. The tsum blinks up at you, wordless like always. “You don’t have to stay for this, you know. I’m sure you’d much rather explore campus.”

The tsum stares and then, as if your words have somehow offended him, he rears forward to knock his head into your thigh again. His fedora falls off in the process, but he pays it no mind and continues to bump into your leg.

“Okay, okay! You can stay.” You laugh and hold your hands up in surrender. “I never said you had to leave.”

Lifting the tiny fedora from the sofa, you place it atop the tsum’s head. It’s uncanny how much of Azul you see in him. Even the beauty mark is in the right place… How peculiar.

Seeming pleased with this, the tsum scrambles to get into your lap. You place your hand under him and help him up. Even though he doesn’t have a mouth, he looks very happy here, bouncing up and down with what you think is a show of enthusiasm.

“You’re adorable, Azutsum. I wish I could say that to your counterpart. He’s great, you know? The most amazing guy I’ve ever met.” You squish Azutsum between your hands and sigh dreamily. “I’m actually not that bad at magic history. I just pretended so I could spend more time with Azul outside of class.”

Azutsum narrows his eyes at you.

“You disapprove?”

He squirms out of your grasp and jumps up towards your chest. You catch him before he can fall back onto your lap. It doesn’t look like open disapproval. Maybe the tsum just doesn’t understand your feelings. You don’t expect him to. If he’s anything like Azul, he’s probably more focused on the lounge or money. Azul did mention he spent a good half of the morning testing the tsum’s affinity for business.

You glance at your textbook. One day you’ll confess. It won’t be today, though. With a sigh, you resign yourself to your reality and place the tsum on the table. You manage to open the book and flick through a few pages before Azutsum pounces on top. He glowers at you, demanding attention. In a way, when he isn’t being expressive like this, he reminds you of a turtle. That thought prompts a chuckle from you and you nudge him away gently.

“I’d love to play more, but I’ve gotta start reviewing. It’ll look odd if Azul walks in and I haven’t made any progress.”

Despite this, Azutsum persists. He prods at your hand, squeaking at you in what sounds like annoyance. A needy thing, this tsum. You’ve never known Azul to be so shamelessly direct, so it takes you by surprise when his tsum rolls around to wrinkle the pages. You gasp just as it tears.

“Don’t be so careless!” You grab hold of the tsum before he can cause further damage to your precious book. Pinching his cheek in light admonishment, you hold him close to your face. “All right, you have my attention. Please don’t destroy my books.”

The tsum beams.

“Aren’t you proud? Seriously… I’m only forgiving you because you look like my crush,” you mutter, your cheeks warming.

If only Azul was this hungry for my attention…

Azutsum wriggles happily in your hands. It’s a challenge to stay angry at such a cute plush. A prisoner to his charms, you pet him affectionately. He seems to bask in your touch, turning over on his back so that you can give his belly the same amount of love.

“Maybe not a turtle. You’re more like a puppy.”

Smiling to yourself, you rub the tsum’s belly. He seems to appreciate the gesture, for he squeaks in excitement. If he wasn’t sentient, you’d probably mistake him for a pillow. He’s soft like one, squishy like a plush. You knead him every now and then, pressing your fingers into his abdomen. You’re sure there’s nothing but stuffing inside, but a morbidly curious part of you wonders if he has organs and blood. Unlikely. But it’s still fun to fantasize over the wildly impossible.

“Do you like that?” You watch gleefully as the tsum squeezes his eyes shut and squirms. His squeaks are loud. “Seems like it. After this, though, I need to get back to work.”

You’re so swept up in toying with the tsum that it shocks you out of your skin when he jumps out of your arms abruptly. You assume he’s gotten tired of the teasing, but then he’s launching himself at you to tackle you onto the sofa. The force knocks you down, and you gasp as the leather cushions cradle you in the aftermath of your fall.

“Hey! What was that for?” You lift your head up to look at him. A familiar weight settles on top of you. “You’re stronger than you look…”

You gaze at Azutsum and the laughter sticks in your throat. There’s a distinctly human cock curving up along the length of your stomach, grotesquely thick and leaking pre-cum, maddeningly disproportionate. Your eyes widen, and a shard of horror lodges itself in your heart.

“W-Wait… Hold on!” You scramble to get away, but the tsum shifts so that the head of his cock presses against your skirt. You yelp when he moves again to prod at your clothed pussy. “Don’t touch there—you can’t!”

He presses inwards, blocked only by your panties, and squeaks sadly. You claw at the sofa, desperate to escape. Azutsum isn’t listening. He continues to rut uselessly between your thighs. Much to your disbelief, the pressure of his cock straining to find its home inside your tight hole leaves you soaking through your panties. If you aren’t thinking about it—about the fact that this insane cock belongs to this little tsum—you almost trick yourself into picturing Azul leaning over you on the sofa. He’d grab your hips, yank you to meet him halfway, slot himself inside slowly… He’d praise you for taking him so well, whisper the sweetest of filth, kiss you dizzy!

That sugar-encrusted delusion shatters the moment his fleshy head catches on your panties. Somehow they’re pushed aside as he bullies his way closer to your cunt. Your eyes snap open just as he pushes inside.

“No, no, no! A-Azutsum, don’t do—ooh!”

Your pleas taper off into a low groan just as he slides in. It feels strange, a foreign fit. Is this really going to be your first time? With withering resolve, you reach for the tsum in hopes of tugging him away from your pussy. He draws back, searching for the right rhythm, and sinks further into wet walls. The breath is punched out of your lungs once he’s managed to fit half of his absurd length inside you.

Tears gather in your eyes. “Take it out… Please… It feels weird and—” he bucks forwards and you suck in a breath through your teeth— “h-hurts!”

Azutsum squeaks softly at you. Consolation? Maybe. Or perhaps it’s a parody of a sweet nothing. How is this possible? He shouldn’t be this big. He shouldn’t even have this anatomy to begin with! Where was he even hiding such a monstrous size?

Your arm falls over your face. Despite everything, the fit is snug. You’re not sure you can take another inch. Azutsum disagrees with this unvoiced sentiment, instead choosing to fuck in and out of you until you’re properly slick. It leaves you shuddering with a strange desire—whether that’s to get away or stay, you can’t determine.

Submitting to your fate—though your hips flinch with every thrust—you allow your mind to wander. You envision Azul and wish he was here in place of this devious tsum. Maybe then you’d be more receptive. Maybe then you wouldn’t be crying. Maybe then the drag of his cock along your walls would actually feel satisfying.

Azutsum’s squeaks join the obscene squelch of skin on skin. It’s noisy and gross. You smell yourself on the air—the unmistakable odor of salt and sin. He fucks like he’s running late, driving his cock as deep as it can possibly go. Your back arches up towards the invisible body that ought to be hovering over you right now. If it was Azul, you’d loop your arms around his neck and pull him down to taste him.

It’s not Azul. It will never be Azul.

All you can do is lie there and take it. At some point, the stretch is less of a pain and more of a unique fullness. It’s not unpleasant, weirdly. Rather, you find yourself grinding down to meet each of his sporadic thrusts, chasing a high that’s so conflicting.

What am I doing? This is so wrong! you think, writhing like a fish out of water. And yet you can’t stop.

“Azutsum, please—” You gasp sharply when he hits a particular spot deep within you, your eyes rolling back into your skull. That’s…not your cervix, is it? There’s no way… Surely he didn’t do that. But then the tip of his cock prods at it again, this time with more insistence, and you throw your head back and howl. “Wait, slow down! Hurts—that hurts!”

Tears trail down your cheeks. You wipe them away to no avail. They just keep pouring, made plentiful by the cock ramming against a place that’s never been reached before. You cry out again when he eases out partially and slams back in with forceful determination. His motions are sloppy now, a stuttering, jerky movement that fills you with more cock than you’ve ever taken in your life before. Your fingers and dildo can’t compare to this—nothing can.

In just a few more riotous strokes, the tsum burrows his cock all the way to the hilt and releases inside with a strangled squeak. Thick, warm cum floods your womb at once, so copious it leaves your stomach with a slight bloat. Dazed, just managing to collect yourself, you press down against your belly to feel the bulge of his cock.

“Please…” you whisper, panting, “pull out already…”

Azutsum starts to do that, only to thrust back in. His cock keeps all of his cum effectively plugged.

“No more… I can’t take anymore. Please…”

But he’s already moving, intent on going at it until his balls are drained and you’re properly filled. In the meantime, you shut your eyes and welcome the chimera of an absentee Azul.

You’re not sure how long it’s been or how many rounds you’ve gone, but by the end of it you’re stuffed. Azutsum finally eases out after so much time spent thrust up inside. Shivering, you peer over the deceptive dome that is your stomach. If anyone were to see you, they’d certainly think you were pregnant and not just packed full of cum. You don’t want to know where such a little tsum gets so much virility. Best not to question it, otherwise you’ll drive yourself mad trying to figure it out.

Azutsum climbs up onto your rounded belly, gazing down at you with newfound fondness in his blue eyes. You’re not sure where his cock’s retreated to now. At least it’s over. Defeated, you reach up and pat his head.

The door to the VIP room creaks open then. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, (Name). Some nuisances—ah, I mean customers—don’t know when to—” Azul chokes on the rest of his sentence, his wide-eyed gaze drawn to you splayed out on the leather sofa. Cum dribbles from your abused cunt, pooling below on the cushion.

You can’t bear to look at him, so you bury your face in your hands. “S-Sorry. I’m sorry! I’ll clean it. Just please… Please don’t look.” Shyly, you squeeze your legs shut in hopes of preserving what’s left of your dignity. You’ve never felt humiliation as hot and heavy as this before.

Azutsum squeaks a joyful greeting.

You can’t see him, but his face has exploded with a fiery embarrassment. He’s doing everything he can to avoid staring at you. No matter how hard he tries, his eyes are drawn to your stomach, to your pussy clenched around nothing and leaking cum, to the devilishly proud tsum perched on top… Most importantly, you miss the way his slacks tighten in the crotch and the way he swallows thickly.

Clearing his throat, his words awkward, Azul says, “P-Perhaps we ought to postpone today’s session…”

It’s for the best. He’s not sure he’d be able to explain his reaction if you were to catch it.

[prettyykarmaa]

Reckless

GN!Reader x Naib Subedar

Summary - Naib gets chaired during a match. You don't want to leave him behind.

WC - 1,053 (that's actually surprising to me)

Author's Note(s) - This was inspired by @turbulentscrawl's 'Steamy Rescues' post! Please give it a read :]

https://www.tumblr.com/turbulentscrawl/740237408536231936/steamy-rescues?source=share

There is really minor violence in this, but please keep that in mind if that’s something you’re sensitive to. Also, I hc that survivors can communicate via a two-way earpiece!

"The cipher machine is primed. It's up to you now!" Luca's voice exclaims through your earpiece as you make your way to where Naib was chaired. Countless times have you attempted and succeeded in going ahead with risky plans. Still, all that prior experience was not doing much to stop your palms from sweating nor slow down your quickened heartbeat. You had ideas on why that was the case.

For one, the survivors of Oletus Manor have been on an awful losing streak recently, and it's been affecting everyone's morale. Even the survivors with relatively positive outlooks aren't doing so great. If you failed to turn this guaranteed tie into a win, you could practically imagine disappointed sighs and glares of disapproval (directed your way).

There was another idea floating around your mind as you ran, though.

You were nervous about failing him. The ironic part was that you knew he wouldn't hold any true ill-will against you. You're sure he'll call you an idiot, but he's not the type to hold a grudge over something like that. Even the best rescuers fail sometimes. So why were you so worried this time around?

Unfortunately, there wasn't any more time to linger on that question. Not when the chair was in your sight, and Naib's gaze was locked onto yours. He realized what you were trying to do the second he saw you rushing towards him. "Forget about saving me," You heard him say through your earpiece. "Just go for the tie."

"It's too late to do that." You huffed back as you looked away. You hear him let out an amused sigh before he speaks again. "Don't fuck up, then." As you got closer, your eyes scanned around his chair. Nothing. Ominous red light from the hunter? Missing. That was weird, but you convinced yourself to shake it off. Wanting to reach him in time, you forced yourself to run faster, resulting in you almost crashing into him. Almost. Using your hands, you stop yourself by planting them on either side of his head, practically pinning him against the chair.

If you had the time, you would've taken it to admire the sight in front of you. Battle-scarred hands gripped the armrests, and your eyes only traveled upwards, noticing the flex of Naib's biceps through his black long sleeve. Naib's hood had fallen, presumably during the struggle to the chair, revealing his pretty brown hair tied in its usual ponytail. It was disheveled, yes, but you that only made you want to run your hands through it to fix it for him. Yet, that all paled compared to how he was looking at you.

His dull blue eyes were trained on your appearance before reuniting with your gaze. They were filled with something you couldn't put into words, but you'd be lying if you said your heart didn't flutter. Realizing you could've completely misread his expression and he was actually silently judging, you try to save face. "I know I look breathtaking right now; you can tell me about it later, yeah?" You mumbled as you placed both hands on the safety bar and pried it off his lap before carefully taking his hands and pulling him out of the chair.

You were about to finally relax when you felt a shiver down your spine, immediately followed by a butterfly coming from overhead and landing directly in front of Naib. Without a second thought, you go between them and braced yourself. The familiar sting of Michiko's fan blade slashing you made itself known. However, it disappeared as quickly as it came, thanks to Luca popping the last cipher.

With a newfound sense of determination and the pain from injuries you both sustained becoming tolerable, Naib grabbed you by the hand and started sprinting toward the exit gate. "We're almost out. Just hold on a bit longer." He panted as he continued to pull you along. You subconsciously squeeze his hand, and surprisingly, he does it back. Another butterfly whizzes past, this time behind you. He notices and uses the hand holding yours, swinging you in front of him. Michiko barely misses her attack, giving both of you enough time to follow Luca through the exit.

Once you were back at the manor, you beelined to your room. You would've loved to have celebrated the win with everyone, but you were more than ready to sleep. When you were getting ready to turn off your lamp, you heard a knock on the door. You wanted to ignore it, but when there was a second knock, you sighed and opened the it.

It was Naib.

He appeared much more relaxed than he looked during the game, his right hand gently resting on your doorway. It was a good look on him. "Your recklessness never fails to amaze me," he says, shaking his head, which earns him a lighthearted eye-roll from you. "But nonetheless, I'm glad you rescued me despite knowing the risks." Usually, you'd tease him relentlessly for not being upfront with a "thank you," but you decided to play nice. Oh, how you regret not taking that chance.

"You know my conscience wouldn't let me leave people behind. Especially you." You say with a small smile. That second part was an understatement, as you'd drop everything and come running if he asked you to. For the sake of your pride, you didn't tell him that. He lightly scoffs when he realizes you are choosing to be passive tonight.

"It looks like you're getting ready to sleep, so I'll leave you be." He retracts his hand from the doorway, ready to head back down the hallway. Then, remembrance flickers across his face, leading Naib to turn his head back to you. Before you can ask what he was thinking, he suddenly says, "I agree."

"What?"

"You said you looked breathtaking during the game. I think you are all the time, so I agree.

With that, Naib turns around and walks down the hallway, disappearing behind the corner. Quietly closing the door to your room and shutting off the lamp, you crawl under the blankets on your bed. His words continually replayed in your head. Sleeping was going to be a struggle tonight. You would've brushed off what Naib said as him being oblivious (somehow) to how his words could be taken…

If it wasn't for the fact you caught Naib leaving with what looked to be a knowing smile.

He definitely knows.

And much to your dismay, that makes you all the more smitten over him.

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So fun fact, this is the first time I've ever written a fanfic but I hope it was enjoyable anyways!! Because I'm a minor, I strayed away from making this suggestive and leaned more towards romantic tension. I also had Haunted by Beyoncé on loop for quite a bit of this fic, so I wonder if y'all you can tell LMAO

Tags: @thekeeperofdreams

[somefanficrecomendations]

November Monthly Recap

So, how are we all feeling about the ending of Arcane? Have some fics to help you cope!

ARCANE

Like It’s the First Time by egg_thief (Jayce/Viktor), 5k, Episode: s02e07, AU-Canon Divergence “What were we?” Viktor asks, the question catching Jayce off guard. “Back in your universe?” He stumbles as he tries to put it into words- are there even words to describe what Viktor was to him? He opens his mouth, intent to say he doesn’t know- but the words flow out on their own accord. “We were… everything. ” or: in which jayce crashes into another universe, one where viktor was too late to stop his jump

High Hawk Season by JeanLuciferGohard (Jayce/Viktor), 9k, Oh my god they were roomates Three weeks, and the south-facing side of his apartment is still missing, and they won’t even let him sleep there with a tarp tacked over it, because the ‘structure of the building was compromised’ and it’s ‘not fit for habitation’, as if student housing, even student housing on the Kiramann’s dime, ever had any claim on habitability in the fucking first place. “I've been sleeping at the lab, Viktor.” (which he probably would’ve done anyway, but it’s matter of principle–it’s–okay, it’s fundamental question of free will and fair housing practices and not having to live with his mother, who publicly called him a lunatic) Sometimes, you are a genius, and a sizable explosion knocks out most of your living space, and you end up living with your research partner, and it's only weird if you make it weird

Absence by iksvolforb (Jayce/Viktor), 5k, Fluff and Angst “So sensitive,” Viktor ponders, his expression steeled with a layer of confidence and intrigue Jayce has only ever seen in the lab. An expression shown only when he was concentrating. Exposed only when he was invested. Available only when he was ready to do anything it took to find the solution. Jayce has to stop his head from lulling back when Viktor suddenly drags his hand slowly down his chest. --- or, Viktor doesn't show up to the lab and Jayce goes to check that he's ok.

Festering Affections by egg_thief (Jayce/Viktor), 3k, Fluff, Season 1 Ever so carefully- as if his hair were made of glass instead of silk and daydreams- Viktor reaches his hand out, his fingers stretching toward Jayce’s hair. He wavers for a moment, hesitating only a second- what if Jayce pulls away? What if he is misreading this whole scenario? What if he crosses a line that cannot be uncrossed- He is laying with his head in your lap, Viktor chides himself. If anyone crossed a line, it was him. This is merely retaliation- the consequences of his actions. Something Jayce needs exposure to anyway. And with that, Viktor slips his fingers into Jayce’s hair.

Fortuitous by SarcastCity (Caitlyn/Vi), 75k, AU-Royalty, AU-Arranged Marriage "It is time to fulfill your duties as princess.” “Yes, Mother. You know I take my duties very seriously," Caitlyn said, hesitantly. “I am so pleased to hear you say that. As you know, tensions between Piltover and Zaun have been…high…and, while there is a peace treaty between us, nothing is assured.” Oh no. Oh no, no, no. “So, due to the potential for instability, and your commendable commitment to your kingdom, your father and I have decided that the fact that you are both unmarried and eligible is quite fortuitous.” Caitlyn’s eyes widened a fraction farther, and she could not contain her whispered, “No” as her stomach dropped to her toes and her chest constricted like she had just been thrown from her horse. “Three days hence, you will marry the eldest child of the Hound of the Underground, and your union will fully secure the peace between our two nations.”

RRR

Falter and Flame by LivingProof (gen), 53k, Post-Canon, Action & Adventure In the Gond Village, Ram arrives with several goals. To see Bheem for the first time in months. To secure more supplies for his struggling revolution. And maybe, just maybe, to get a decent night’s sleep. In New Delhi, Special Officer Callum Rand arrives with his own goal. To hunt down the traitor, A. Rama Raju, and put an end to these new rebellions. One way or another. Or: Ram goes to great lengths to advance his cause. Bheem, against his better judgement, goes along with him.

How Will This Bullet Earn Its Value? By Silver (Flying_Blackbird) (Alluri Sitarama Raju/Komaram Bheem), 23k, Hurt/Comfort Dimly, while the last of the crowd slowly dispersed around him, Special Officer Alluri Rama Raju wondered if he would ever stop shaking. He had stumbled away from the scaffold at the first opportunity, bright red in the blur of khaki, dust, and barbed wire, weaving through the chaos like a droplet of blood trickling through the sand. A river of blood.

[bi-focal12]

@probabydeadbynow i saw your user (though im now realizing i misread it, lol) and it sparked this short fic idea so i wanted to share it with you before i post to ao3 (bnha, no quirk AU)

There was a piece of graffiti Izuku always saw around town. Sometimes it’d be done in white, other times blue, but most of the time it was purple- each letter looped and sprawling and bleeding into the next. 

Probably dead by now, it always said. 

Izuku didn’t know why he liked it so much. It felt odd to smile at those words when he saw them spray painted underneath the Musutafu bridge but, then again, he remembered seeing those same exact words when he was being driven home from the hospital after breaking his arm for the first time, a lollipop between his lips and a new All Might plush under his arm. And then again the morning his Dad came home for Christmas, surprising Izuku at the door. And then again the day of Kacchan’s 10th birthday party. The one with the All Might impersonator that had carried them both around on his shoulders for a while, their sweaty hands linked behind his head for no other reason except that they were happy. 

White then blue then white again. Purple today. 

Probably dead by now, it always said. 

Probably not, Izuku thought back, peering out of the passenger window with a growing smile. 

Izuku had never seen the artist. Never even caught a glimpse, but their handwriting was paint-splattered over so many of Izuku’s brightest memories. 

“What’s got you so smiley, huh?” Kacchan asked. 

Izuku turned away from the window, watching the way Kacchan’s sweaty hands gripped the steering wheel like his life depended on it. He’d only had his license for a few weeks now. 

“I think something good’s going to happen today,” Izuku replied.

Privately, he was pretty sure it already had. 

Kacchan hadn’t invited Izuku anywhere since that 10th birthday party at the arcade and now they were on their way to tour a newly built school together. 

Kacchan scoffed lightly. “What’s so good about college?” he shot back. 

“I don’t know,” Izuku replied honestly, idly flicking through the UA pamphlet resting on his lap. “Maybe…” Izuku glanced towards Kacchan. Quieter, he said, “Maybe we’ll end up going there together. You know, like old times?” 

Really old times, anyway. When Izuku would trade his apple slices for Kacchan’s potato chips at lunchtime and they’d walk home together in their baby blue smocks, hands clasped firmly together.

Not like the way they’d make passing eye contact in the halls of their high school, always in opposite motion even if Izuku’s eyes would sometimes trail after Kacchan's back. 

Even if sometimes he caught Kacchan looking, too. 

Kacchan was quiet for a few moments, the careful tick of the turn signal a feeble echo of Izuku’s hammering pulse.  

Izuku was pretty sure he remembered seeing that same graffiti- purple, and nearly washed out by a recent rainstorm- the day Kacchan threw Izuku’s notebook from a third story window in junior high. 

“Just don’t expect me to fucking hold your hand,” Kacchan eventually bit out, eyes averted- his focus too intense on the empty road for it mean anything other than embarrassment. 

His tone too light for it to even feel like a denial. 

Izuku quickly turned his gaze to his knees, smothering a smile. The UA pamphlet creased beneath his fingers. 

Probably dead by now.  

Purple. Scribbled across the window of an empty storefront. 

Kacchan had grabbed Izuku’s hand two blocks later and shoved that same pamphlet at him, holding on for a beat too long. 

“You dropped that,” he’d lied. 

His hand had been warm. 

“My dad and I were gonna tour it this weekend but he’s got a work thing.”

Izuku’s eyes had been wide and curious. He’d held his breath while Kacchan scratched the back of his neck and scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ground, casting around for the right words to say. 

“I guess you could take his spot or whatever,” he’d continued with a shrug. “If you pay for gas. ‘Cause I’m going whether you catch a ride or not.”

Izuku had thought that Kacchan would probably leave him in the dust by the time it came to go to college. Or not go, he supposed, but…

Izuku lifted his head again, listening to the way Kacchan hummed softly along with the radio. His sunglasses were All Might themed- a custom release with a subtle design that Izuku hadn’t been able to afford. 

There was a second pair, just like it, shoved towards Izuku’s chest when he first climbed into Kacchan’s car, along with a muttered comment about how Kacchan didn’t want to hear any crybaby complaints about the sun. 

They rested comfortably on Izuku’s head now. 

Probably dead by now, it always said.  

Izuku pulled them down until everything in his field of vision was tinged a soft yellow. 

Life was funny that way, he thought.

[leclerced]

Maxoscar where Max teaches Oscar new things. Maybe he and his girlfriend like trying new things in sex so their sex life is rich and they are experienced but then it’s just not the case with Oscar. He knows so little about sex apart for the basics and he never even had an orgasm when he tried with men before so when Max gives him orgasm after orgasm he’s so shocked and he never wants to stop (innocent!Oscar to slut!Oscar kind of thing)

okay but imagine.

max and his girlfriend wanna have a threesome so they ask him one night. can see them getting close to him first, inviting him out to celebrate or out to dinner. subtly flirting with him to test the waters, see how he reacts. if there’s any interest. oscar doesn’t know why the world champion and his girlfriend keep asking to hang out with him, but he’s not gonna say no. especially when he’s pretty sure they’re flirting with him and even if he’s completely wrong about it he likes the attention, he likes the way they make him feel generally speaking, like he fits in there, like he’s not just a rookie. he’s one of them!!

then they pop that question one night and he’s so shocked, he goes silent and they panic thinking they’ve misread signals or something. immediately are like, “sorry never mind, forget we asked! didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” and oscar suddenly remembers to use his words and he’s stupidly like, “um, why me?” his face is so sweet, wide eyes and pink cheeks. she thinks its the cutest thing ever, leans in and says, “why don’t you let us show you sometime yeah? actions speak louder than words anyways, don’t they?” he nods and max tells him to use his words and he stutters out an okay. they wanna talk about it right then apparently because as soon as he says okay, max is asking what he’s into, does he like guys and girls or just guys? what is he okay with? oscar’s heart is racing as he answers all of their questions and they give him their answers back, his mind swimming with all the ideas of what they’ll be doing; majority of which are things he hasn’t ever done before. i feel like he wouldn’t have been w a guy in years, since he was a teenager fooling around and so they agree to ease back into that which he’s grateful for. but also, when they say they’ll ease into it it makes him think this isn’t a one time thing like he thought it was going to be.

the first time they fuck, he doesn’t know what to expect, but even his barest expectations are shattered when he arrives to their place and she’s in lingerie and tells him she bought it just for him. they take him to the guest room and get straight down to business, both of them too excited to wait any longer. she guides him to sit on the bed and crawls onto his lap and asks if she can kiss him, and as soon as they’re kissing all bets are off and oscar’s all in. it’s all a blur in his mind when he looks back on it. max made her ride his thigh and then told oscar to go down on her, and the entire time, max is telling him what to do, what she likes, and she’s praising him for being so good. he’s never experienced anything like that, never had someone tell him what to do, or had praise him the way she is, whimpering his name and telling him how good his mouth feels, begging him for more while she pulls his hair and rocks her hips into his face. he’s gone down on men and woman but it’s a different experience going down on her.

they’d jerk him off and suck him off together, teasing him until he’s begging to cum like she had been when he was going down on her, and then max is taking over and makes him cum twice more, and he can’t think straight anymore. he watches them fuck after he’s came three times, and somehow gets hard again. she rides him after max is finished and she’s full of max’s cum, definitely not on his threesome bingo card but it should have been. he’s so sensitive all he can do is lay there and take it as she works both of them towards one last orgasm. max’s lips find his neck and he starts kissing him and telling him how good he is, and oscar’s just fucking gone.

oscar expects them to kick him out once she climbs off of him and flops down next to him, but max fetches a washcloth and begins cleaning both of them up, then fetches water and then carries her out of the room, mumbling something. he returns a moment to ask oscar why he’s still laying there, asks if he needs to be carried too and holds out a hand for support. he asks what max is talking about, and he’s like, “well i said c’mon didn’t i? we aren’t sleeping in here, obviously.” and oscar just blinks at him before taking the outstretched hand and following him to their actual bedroom and she’s already cuddled up in the middle of the bed and just pats the bed on either side of her for them to join her.

[stolasdearest]

𝙰 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜

Synopsis. Gale talks first and thinks later, Same seems to go for the way his hands move around you

Gn!Tav x Gale, Pre-established Relationship, Confession !not proofread

563 words

Every so often whenever Gale gets excited his hands seem to wander though this does not apply to everyone in camp, not to even mention the time Karlach was on the recieving end of this treatment— at least you got practice in healing magic that day despite Gale's protests that it's fine.

But his hands always wander to you. Holding your hands whenever you're out and about as he scans the Forrest or the streets of Baldurs gate his hand never leaves yours. You lead the team wherever you deem needed with such confidence it baffles him how easily and quickly you adapt to, anything. You're keenly aware of what everyone wants or needs to hear, you talk potential enemies into corners and the spirit you fight with to protect the people around you truly amazes the Wizard.

A night is usually spent by you two sitting in each other's tents while talking about your day as you debrief, you reluctantly sit back when he agrees to cook dinner for everyone and you sit together while you eat. The camp is honestly starting to get agitated with the knowing glances and wandering eyes the both of you share, Wyll has to physically hold Astorian back on occasion so no vulgar language is used.

As you sit in his Tent, hands in your lap when you sit almost too close to Gale you barely look over his shoulder while you read from the book he has sitting in his hands— disrupting him when you groan while leaning back "Gale this position really hurts my back" and when his eyes scan you he realizes not everyone can just sit hunched over for hours so he racks his brain to find a solution for your dilemma not at all wanting you to leave "How about we, lay down?" You snort as you fall onto the bedroll behind you "you're gonna hold the book while we lay here" with a quick and easy Yup he makes his place beside you but before he can even pick up his book you nearly shout for his full attention as you suddenly lose the words your brain had thought of for this exact conversation, clearing your throat when you try and save this horrible attempt at a love confession

"we've spent alot of time together and I love being around you—"

Your eyes fixed on the top of the tent as you continue with a shaky sigh

"and I don't know if I misread us but I think you feel the same way I do"

Gobsmacked is the best word to use for Gale at the moment, His eyes wide and his lips slightly parted as his breath hitches while he looks at you. You're absolutely terrified and your brain floods with doubt and shame as you don't break your gaze from him, on cue he noticed the glossy film that shone your beautiful eyes as he sits up almost giving himself whiplash as he stumbles on his words for once

"no! No— you haven't. it's very much reciprocated, I just didn't think we'd ever talk about"

The smile that dawns your face after your confession was received well could rival the beauty of the finest diamonds. He grins like an idiot as he once again makes his place next to you, pulling you into his embrace,he rests his chin on the top of your head. One hand cradling your head the other holding the esteemed book

"you don't mind if I read to you like this right?"

"please go ahead"

YIPPIE FIRST FIC EVERRR (it's 5am lord help) lol this might be absolutely dookie but I wanted to write something for once 🤺

[dameronscopilot]

Asking Mitch Keller about his bullriding days turns into either him giving you a cock riding lesson or you showing him how good at it you are already

(i love the way you think, nonnie)

Just Like That

Mitch Keller x f!reader

Summary: One thing leads to another during a conversation about Mitch's days on the circuit, and you find yourself straddling his lap as the ex-bull rider gives you the ride of your life.

Word Count: 1.9k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, dry humping, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink, cockwarming, praise kink

“Honey, no offense, but you’d get bucked right off.”

You cross your arms with a huff, and Mitch chuckles, mustache twitching as the corners of his lips curve upward in amusement.

Ever since you secured the weekly Sunday night performance spot at Bred 2 Buck—in which you regularly play a laid back acoustic set for the tail end of the weekend’s mellow crowd—you’ve fallen into a quick and easy friendship with the bar’s owner, Mitch Keller. 

Following your set this evening, you had found yourself seated at the bar counter, absorbed in conversation with him about his famed bull riding days. And though you’d brought up the topic at hand partially because you were incredibly curious about his time on the circuit, you also did it for a much more self-serving reason: it gave you the opportunity to experience the way his blue eyes lit up with fondness upon recalling the memories, a boyish grin that left your heart fluttering in your chest tracking its way across his face.

When last call rolled around, your discussion was far from over, as you found yourself hanging on to Mitch’s every word (and each movement of his lips, if you were being honest) as he regaled a particularly harrowing rodeo story. And thus he’d invited you back to his place for the first time, which is how you now find yourself seated in his living room, arguing over your own potential merits as a bull rider.

“I feel like I’d last for a couple of seconds at least,” you protest. “I rode a mechanical bull once.”

“That…definitely ain’t the same thing,” he replies, running a hand over his beard.

Mitch raises an eyebrow when you stand up and stride over to where he’s seated on the couch, reaching out and plucking his hat off of his head, tossing it onto the coffee table behind you.

“Show me what it’s like, then.”

Hoping like hell you haven’t been misreading whatever’s been quietly simmering between the two of you for weeks on end, you climb into Mitch’s lap and straddle his thighs, letting your knees press down into the couch cushion as the skirt of your dress rides upward.

He goes still, clearly not having anticipated this particular turn of events, and his gaze bores into yours for a moment as he waits to see if you’re serious.

When you wiggle for emphasis, he darts his tongue out of his mouth, running it over his teeth as he grins, looking down and shaking his head. “You sure? Think I might be a little out of practice, darlin’. Wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

You catch the double meaning of his words, and some small part of you preens upon receiving this knowledge—the fact that, although many of the women that waltz into that bar do so with sultry hopes of going home with its handsome owner (something you quickly learned once you started playing there), success clearly hasn’t been on their side.

“Well let’s get you back in the saddle then, cowboy,” you smirk, toying with a lock of hair that’s come loose and fallen across his forehead. 

Bringing his large hands up to tentatively rest across the tops of your thighs, he tilts his head to the side, appraising you. “You got that backwards, ‘cause you’re the one in the saddle tonight.”

He rocks his hips upward just enough to throw you off balance, amusement rumbling in his chest when you pitch forward slightly. 

As you wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt to regain your balance, he tuts, “One hand. And it should be down here.”

Mitch takes one of your hands and places it over his belt, encouraging you to wrap your fingers around the leather. Remembering what constitutes a typical bull rider pose, you raise your left hand and let it hover in the air.

“Like this?”

The tone of his voice drips down your spine like molasses when he drawls, “Yeah, honey. Just like that.”

With his palms face down on either side of him, Mitch leans back and spreads his thighs slightly wider underneath you before he begins to roll his hips once more. His steady gaze remains focused on yours, watching the way you continuously fall out of sync with his movements.

“Move with me,” he instructs.

You heed his words, and as he begins to increase his pace, you fall into a smooth rhythm rocking in the cradle of his hips. But your focus begins to wane as you feel the evidence of his growing erection, the denim of his jeans pressing firmly into the sheer tights covering the wet warmth at the apex of your thighs with each and every thrust.

When Mitch ruts upward particularly hard, an involuntary gasp leaves your lips at the pleasure that rockets down your spine. Unable to stop yourself, you tug hard on his belt as you grind back down against his cock.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, starting to lose his composure.

Bringing his hands up to grasp your hips, he holds you tightly in place as he repeats his last movement, his heated gaze locked on your own. You thread your free hand into his hair, relishing the softness of his long locks for a moment before tugging his head backward as you take your turn chasing the friction of his shaft against your mound.

His mouth falls open slightly when do you so, and between one breath and the next, Mitch’s hands are cupping your face as he surges forward, lips seeking yours out in a hungry, belated kiss. The ache between your thighs begins to throb as his plush lips slide against yours, one hand sliding down to curl around the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your exposed collar bone. 

You let your jaw relax for Mitch when his tongue flirts with the seam of your lips, deepening the kiss, and at the feeling of his hand trailing down to stake claim over your lower back just above the swell of your ass, you desperately arch your body into him. 

“Mitch,” you whimper, panting as he nips at your bottom lip.

“What do you want, honey?” he asks calmly, as if he’s entirely unaware of the way your slick arousal has begun to seep through your underwear, leaving a damp mark where you’ve frantically been rubbing yourself against the front of his jeans.

Fingers skating across his belt buckle, you cup his shaft and squeeze. “I want you to fuck me while you’re showing me how to ride you.”

Mitch smirks, pushing up the skirt of your dress and letting both of his hands encircle the bend between your hips and your thighs, thumbs teasing where your stockings are now sopping wet. He groans appreciatively, reaching out and pinching the material between his fingers.

“Think we’re gonna need to get these off first then.”

“Just rip them, I don’t care,” you whine, too impatient to climb off of him. 

Clearly just as into the idea as you are, Mitch doesn’t hesitate to reach into his back pocket, flipping open his pocket knife. You sit still as he carefully grasps a fistful of the wet nylon, tugging it forward before slicing a hole into it, a fresh gush of arousal leaking into your underwear at the sight. He hooks a finger in your panties, and you shiver as the digit brushes against your folds.

“Hell, you’re so fuckin’ wet, honey,” he rasps, leaning forward to kiss you again while he slips his finger into your entrance.

The tension coiled within your gut squeezes tighter as he leans forward to kiss you languidly, adding a second finger and pumping them both in and out of your needy cunt. He swallows down the breathy moans that leave your lips, mouth moving with yours while you hastily reach out to take off his belt, tossing it aside before prying open his jeans.

He matches your moans of pleasure with his own when you wrap your fingers around his shaft, though the sounds briefly morph to amusement when you stop kissing him to glance down between the two of you with wide eyes. Your mouth begins to water as you drink in the sight of the long, thick cock in your hands, and your pussy aches with need at the thought of him splitting your tight little cunt open with it. 

Unable to wait any longer, you lift your body and line yourself up with the tip of his cock. Mitch’s fingers press into the sides of your thighs as you hover above him, and he looks up at you with lust-blown eyes while you begin to sink down onto his shaft. 

The living room is filled with a chorus of moans from your lips and his own as his cock slowly disappears into your body, inch by inch. Once his length is fully swallowed into the warmth of your cunt, he lets out a ragged breath, running a hand through his hair.

“You take me so damn good, sweetheart.”

Pleasure shoots down your spine at the praise, stoking the growing fire in your gut. 

Leaning in, you let your lips hover over his as you murmur, “Now show me how a real cowboy rides.”

Mitch’s lips come crashing into yours, and he grabs your hips, pulling you upward as he drags his cock out of your channel teasingly slow, only to slam it right back in. You barely have time to cry out before he does it again, sending a numbing wave of pleasure through your body as he ruthlessly splits your weeping cunt open.

With one hand tangled in his hair and the other gripping at his shoulder, you hold on tightly as Mitch begins to give you the fucking ride of your life, hips snapping up into yours at a brutal pace as he plunges in and out of your fluttering hole, your soaking wet cunt squelching with each pounding thrust. 

Mitch’s cock is so goddamn massive, the steady pressure as he drags it through your inner walls has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes while you writhe in his lap. But it feels so fucking good. You’re never felt so full in your life. 

You’re a moaning, whimpering, cock drunk mess, and he kisses you bruisingly as he reaches up to wipe away a stray tear that’s sliding down your cheek.

“You look fuckin’ beautiful like this,” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and rough.

At that, the pressure building inside of you bursts in a gushing wave of pleasure, and you grab onto Mitch desperately as your limbs tremble with the force of it. Soft, warm praise falls from his mouth as he fucks you through your climax, the words a direct contrast to the way he roughly continues to ravage your sensitive hole.

On the edge of his own orgasm, Mitch goes to lift you off of him, but you remain firmly in place as you plead, "I wanna feel you come inside of me.”

He sucks in a sharp breath at your request, and you cry out when he obliges, driving the full length of his shaft deep into you once more. Fingers digging into your hip bones, Mitch’s cock pulses while he empties himself inside of you, hot ropes of cum painting your inner walls as he fills you with his release. 

You collapse forward, leaning your head against his chest, and Mitch holds you tightly in his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you remain nestled comfortably in his lap, in no rush to move anytime soon—not even when his cock begins to soften in your channel, dribbles of cum leaking out of your sensitive hole. 

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» MITCH KELLER MASTERLIST

» GARRETT HEDLUND MASTERLIST

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: fem reader; incest [reader is doflamingo + rosinante's adult sister]; implications of coercion/extremely dubious consent. dead dove, etc. just working out some ideas.

In just a few short days, Rosinante, to his revulsion, quickly learns what goes on between you and your eldest brother, just how close you've grown in his years of absence.

At first, he tells himself he must be misreading things: the way Doflamingo pulls you into his lap and holds you there, the way he seems to keep a hand on you at all times, the way he kisses you too long and too deeply--it must just be tricks of the mind from too long a time away from the both of you. You’d been close before, all three of you, as close as you could be clinging to each other through the horrors that befell you. And Doflamingo was always protective of you, claiming that you were his and his alone in the way that children sometimes do before they understand the weight of their words.

But Doflamingo, it seemed, never outgrew the sentiment.

Rosinante chokes on his tongue one night as he lays in bed, and Doflamingo flicks the light on and parades you into the room. You're dressed in a robe that seems to be made of some approximation of silk, something that at once hangs stiffly on your body and moves over you like water.

Rosinante fumbles for his notepad on the nightstand. He never should have left. He never should have stayed away. He should have found his way back to you sooner. Maybe then he wouldn't have to snap his fingers and surround himself in silence every night just to keep from hearing you moaning your eldest brother's name through the thin walls that separated your rooms.

What the fuck are you doing? He holds the paper up in a shaking hand, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming, so hard he wonders if he'll be spitting blood soon. Rosinante sits back against the wall, his limbs numb, heart aching--he already knows there is no refusal of anything Doflamingo insists upon. And maybe, he thinks, acid roiling in his stomach as he begins to talk himself down--maybe he could at least show you softness.

"Well, go on sweet sister," Doflamingo coos as he tugs at the tie of your robe, "why don't you show our dear brother just how much you've missed him, hm? Just like I taught you."

[nalgenewhore]

so sick of myself

elide x lorcan, modern au/estbalished relationship + they r still smitten kittens + jealousy/fight, word count: 2514

The atmosphere inside the car is suffocating. 

He could say something to cut the tension, he should say something to put her out of her misery, but he won’t. 

Elide’s squeezing her hands over and over, and he can feel the weight of her stare on him the way he felt it the whole drive home. He won’t look at her. He can’t right now.

Lorcan slowly pulls his keys out of the ignition. Then, he just looks out his windshield at nothing. 

“Lor…”

“What?”

Elide closes her mouth, almost deflating.

He can barely stand this. To sit beside her right now makes his skin crawl, and his mind keeps wrapping around their last fight, the blowup they had after Aelin accidentally disclosed what really happened to Elide during that one shift. That ended with her telling him to get the fuck away from her and not call her till she was ready. 

And he knows he deserved that, deserved the days spent in self-inflicted agony.

What he’s doing right now isn’t revenge. Lorcan wants to tell her it isn’t to hurt her, but he can’t bring himself to even look at her. He doesn’t really trust himself to speak either. There’s a nagging feeling that he could say something really fucked up, that would cut into her bones, and he can’t do that, hurt her on purpose.

So, he stays silent.

Elide stares at his profile. 

She finds her tongue again by unsticking it from the roof of her mouth. “Should I go home?”

“-fuck you sayin?” His voice is flat and still manages to cut her. He still hasn’t looked at her, not once since they left the party.

“Do you want me to go home? I’ll call a cab.”

Lorcan sighs through his nose, his full lips pressed thin. “Stop.” He rubs his eyes. “Obliviously fuckin not, why’re you askin dumbass shit?”

She sinks back into the passenger seat. “It’s a valid question.”

“And what you think the answer was gonna be?” He mumbles, toneless. His hand falls from his face.

“You won’t even look at me.”

“‘lide, I want you with me, always. I just…” he shakes his head, “can’t really look at you right now, bro.”

Elide fiddles with the hem of her skirt. Now, her eyes have dropped to her lap, and she finds she can’t look at him either. “I really wasn’t-“

He cuts her off with a little huff. “Nah, you know I don’t wanna hear it.”

Silence stretches between them; it’s so heavy as it bores onto her shoulders, and she strains under its weight.

“What do you want me to do?”

From somewhere, either on his person or in his car, Lorcan procures a thick blunt and wedges it between his lips. “Take my bed an’ get some sleep.” He thinks about telling her that he wants to fuck the anger out, or at least wants her mouth on him, but she’ll let him. At that point, he’d be using her and that doesn’t sit well with him. “I’ll come when I’m good.”

The words clog in her throat, too many wanting to escape all at once like it wasn’t a big deal, you misread the situation, stay with me even if you’re not good, get angry - yell at me, use me, do whatever you want. “You won’t come with me now?”

“Nah, I just, like,” he says, “rather not do that.”

She swallows.

Lorcan gets out of his side, like the absence of her response ratchets the tension just that much more to where he can’t stand her proximity. The car shakes when he slams the door shut, and Elide flinches even though he always closes his door that way. She carefully dries her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. 

When he opens her door, she tries to make it seem like she isn’t crying, but he still sees the traces of it. “Lee, c’mon, Imma get you some clothes and-”

“No, I’m fine,” she lies, shaking her head with a wet, phlegmy laugh. “It’s fine.” Elide stands up and sidles past him. “Um, don’t worry about it, I’ll get settled and everything.”

He looks at her solemnly before letting her go. As he settles against his beater, bringing a lighter to his blunt, she forces herself to walk into his house without looking back.

✵✵✵✵✵

Tonight, his bed feels cold and stiff. The whole house does. 

She’s choking on the wrongness of it all.

And, deeply, she’s confused.

Because Elide doesn’t know what to do when he’s mad at her. He never really shows that. It’s never gotten to the point where he explicitly does not want to be around her. 

She feels untethered, like she’s floating in a great big sea.

She thought she could psych herself into thinking it was just like any other night. That he’d come to her when he finished smoking.

But she already heard him come inside two hours ago. The walls shook (she imagined) when he let himself in. His presence, never mind it was past a shut door and down the hall, sucked all her oxygen up.

So, Elide rolls onto her side, and she can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t belong here without him, staring at his spot.

Her phone lies on the mattress by his pillow, and she snatches it closer, blinking at the bright screen.

Once she works up the nerve to text him, she doesn’t hesitate to press send, then quickly toss her phone down.

EL: Are you still awake?

There’s a buzz half a minute later (she counted the seconds).

LS: why u still up

EL: You’re not here, I can’t sleep

Her breathing slows like her lungs are being squeezed by the hand of his avoidance. Elide watches the little read notification pop up but no further acknowledgement. It weirdly crushes her, makes her sink into the mattress.

There was a small relief when he told her he didn’t want her going home. By now, that spark of warmth has faded. She might beg him to join her.

LS: try ill come in later

EL: I don’t want to wait. Be “not good” with me.

LS: alr told u i can’t

LS: do u need sum

EL: You

LS: b serious lee if u dnt need sum lemme b

EL: Then I guess nothing.

She turns onto her back as pits of tears grow and well in her throat.

Elide feels like a kicked puppy, so needy and wanting for his attention. She’s never felt like this before. She hates knowing it’s her own doing.

EL: I love you.

EL: I want you to sleep with me even if you’re not good.

EL: We don’t have to talk.

She waits for his reply, knows that he’s still up from the muffled sound of the television.

When it doesn’t come, a childish kind of anger bursts in her stomach.

“Fucking asshole,” she speaks aloud to herself when the read receipt pops up.

Elide curls back into a ball and banishes her phone to his side.

She hears her phone vibrate a few minutes later, and she’s quick to grab it, the bright screen making her squint.

It takes a couple blinks for her to be able to read the messages.

LS: yo u kno the doors thin

LS: was brushing my teeth

LS: if ur talking abt me say it to my face

Her stomach drops like a stone but her pulse jumps with anger.

EL: Thought you didn’t want to talk.

LS: that was before i heard u

LS: come here bro

He does this thing when he’s annoyed where he’ll call her ‘bro’ to create emotional distance between them.

EL: Why?

In the hallway, she hears him groaning in annoyance.

LS: get out here

LS: obvi u wanna talk

EL: And if I don’t?

LS: r u fr

LS: then dont im not forcing u

LS: r u trying to piss me off??

Elide doesn’t answer. A minute passes, and his footsteps fade into the living room.

✵✵✵✵✵

The couch is too small for him even when he’s on his side. He turns onto his back, guilt eating him up for ignoring her messages before.

LS: sweet dreams

LS: baby

LS: i love you

He waits for her to see them, his chest twisted until she answers. The bubble in his gut stays inflated the longer he waits, and Lorcan knows soon enough that she’s probably asleep, or at the very least, she’s leaving him alone like he wanted. Yet, that feeling of being ignored that he hates so deeply remains.

When he gets up, he can’t say whether he’s going to her out of his desires or hers. Lorcan scrubs his eyes as he walks to his room, floorboards creaking beneath his feet.

He can tell she isn’t asleep the moment he steps inside his room. 

Lorcan crosses the room and sees her phone laying down on the nightstand. He picks it up, just to see if she saw his text, only to sigh as he puts it back. She hasn’t.

“Gimme some room, ‘lide,” he says softly, tapping her back.

She moves without a word.

As he lies down, he’s cautious of her unbidden hair. 

It’s familiar, the slide of his arm around her waist, the way it feels to pull her back into him. 

Lorcan can feel the tension in her body like she wants more but fears his denial.

Which will never come, because it hurts too much to deny her.

She eases when he presses his mouth to her bare shoulder. “Baby, turn over.”

Elide slowly turns to face him. Even in the dark, he can see how her eyes worriedly search him. 

They lay in that timid silence for a while. He traces each notch of her spine with his knuckles, coaxing her closer. 

It feels like salt on an open wound, lemon juice dripping over split knuckles.

She nuzzles her face into his neck, and something about that graze of her lips over his skin unleashes them.

“I always thought you’d be the jealous type.”

Lorcan holds her tighter, his arms locked across her back. “‘m sorry. Not tryna be a dick.”

“I know.”

“Did I make you cry?” His thumb is on her cheek as if to check for wet rawness. It’s still hard to look at her.

“Not really.” Elide slides her hand around his, turning her chin to kiss the base of his palm. She pulls back to look at him. “I know you’re not good, but I still want you here. It’s selfish-”

“Nah, s’not, never selfish.” Lorcan sighs deeply, feels guilty. He slides his fingers down her neck. He finds it easier to focus on the gooseflesh that erupts in the wake of his touch. “Can’t even stay mad when all I wanna do is be ‘round you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to sort through her words. “I never know what to do when you’re mad. You just shut me out.”

“I know.” He hates being angry around her. Anger makes him unbearable, he thinks. It always has. “I- don’t wanna be mean to you or say some fucked up shit. You never make me, like, for real mad. I just didn’t know how to act around you.”

Elide twists her fingers in his shirt. “I wasn’t- nothing happened. It was a misunderstanding.”

His jaw clenches. “s’not bout that.” He should be calm, he should tell her he believes her (since he does). Yet he’s not done being pissed at her, he wants her to take some of his anger even if that isn’t nice or fair. “Lee, you didn’t say shit to her.”

“I didn’t even realise she was saying something in that way, I could barely hear her.”

“Like I get that, but it’s still some girl in your space and touching on you, and you just lettin her be there? How’s that supposed to look to me?”

“That’s why I was pushing her back, she grabbed my hand and, like, held it on her. I didn’t want that.”

Lorcan chews on his lip. He’s not sure he has the heart to really go in on this conversation. 

“I wasn’t going to kiss her, Lor.”

“I… yeah.”

Elide lets out a breathy, anxious laugh. “Like, I wouldn’t ever do that to you, you get that, right?”

“I feel you.” He brushes his mouth over her forehead. “Just looked bad.”

Silence, unresolved, settles over them like a storm cloud waiting to break. 

Lorcan slides his hands beneath her (his) t-shirt as he weighs his next words. “What fucked me up is that you- I had to tell her you got someone. Felt like… you didn’t want her knowing that?”

Elide shakes her head. “I don’t want anyone who isn’t you. Everyone that matters knows that.”

He closes his mouth and lets the quiet of nothing creep back in for a second.

“Uh-huh.”

“Why are you worried? Have I done something to make you this worried?”

He can’t answer her immediately. 

“I’m so in love with you,” he eventually says. “s’not anything you done or whatever, I’m scared bout how easily you could hurt me.”

It makes her heart sink a bit. “I wouldn’t ever want to.”

“I know. I know that, Lee.” Lorcan breathes in deeply and finds it a little easier to speak. “You got me thinkin bout my future and, like, real shit. ‘m not used to that.”

Elide’s almost scared to ask. “Am I in your future?”

He gives her a look that’s slightly irritated like she should know better than to ask that. “You are it.”

The declaration, as soft as it’s spoken, makes her surge forward and kiss him. A second later, Elide realises it’s probably not what he wants right now. She backs away; Lorcan’s hand slopes around her nape and holds her to him. He kisses her back slowly like he wants to savour her. 

She leans into his body, letting her lips part when he licks over the seam of her mouth. Elide wants to feel him fully, to fuse them together so she never has to feel so untethered again, though she knows that’s probably not the most healthy thing to think. “I love you,” she whispers. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” Her hand wraps in his t-shirt. “I want you forever.”

“You got me forever,” he promises.

Elide swears it back to him. He nods – he believes her. Just like that, the tension in her chest unhooks, and she can breathe, she can feel her heart pumping again, her mind calms.

He’s not in the mood to push past the kisses that act like a lifeline between them. So, Lorcan settles against her, and the draped weight of him over her becomes this shroud of exhaustion - she’s so tired suddenly with her eyes begging to be shut.

She thinks, briefly, fleetingly, the moment that his breaths even out, that lying against one another is what they’re meant to do.

✵✵✵✵✵

an: another installation of my new mini series thing! next i hope to either finish their first meeting OR first kiss we shall see <3 here is part one

tags: @sassyhobbits @empress-ofbloodshed @celestialams @the-regal-warrior @shyvioletcat @icecream52 @elentiyawhitethorn @goddess-aelin @julemmaes @sunshinebingo

[whattheheckmidoriya]

I wonder if levi or aizawa would be into a sugar mommy type? Like not that she’s necessarily older than them, just makes more money and likes to spoil them?

You really had me on the first half of this😭🤚🏼

•

I think Levi might initially mistake being lovingly spoiled with pity. He didn't grow up with much of anything— most of his youth was spent wondering if he'd be able to scrap up enough to have at least meal or two. Even life within the Scout Regiment was full of uncertainty and wavering resources. Not a single thing could be wasted and the luxry of having seconds at dinner wasn't something common for him or anyone else. So when you come into his life and start dropping gift after gift on his lap, he misreads your kindness. He eventually confronted you about it and, even he had to admit, it came out angrier than he expected. He hadn't meant to sound ungrateful, but his doubts present themselves as defensiveness and he didn't quite know what to do when your smile dropped. After talking it over, he soon realized that it was simply your form of showing love. Words were never your forte, but you did love choosing gifts that reminded you of him. It was your way of showing that he was always on your mind. Little did you know he had every single gift neatly put away, and he often looked through them fondly and with care.

Aizawa wouldn't quite know how to react. For the most part, he'd always been a pretty low maintainance person, so he never indulged much in buying stuff for himself. Easy to say he was taken aback when he first received a gift from you. He didn't quite understand why you kept giving him such nice stuff, but he cherished every little detail. He's not too good with words, but he'd show his appreciation with little handwritten notes and a little gift that always await your return by the kitchen counter. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel undeserving of your gifts, but it felt nice to be cared for and thought of. Most of the time, he'd spend a good while admiring whatever new trinket you'd gotten him, his gaze softening with something warm. He treasures it all.

[dawneternal]

Take the World in Your Hands | Eris x Elain | Alternate Ending

Summary: if things had gotten a little differently that last night together.

Notes: okay this is actually actually the last chapter lol I couldn't help it 💛 there's so much more I think they could and would say, but this is it for now.

Warnings: a whole lotta angst

Word Count: 1.2k

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Elain slept as the sunrise fell through the skylights and painted her skin lovely colors. Her cheek rested on Eris’s chest, brown curls falling across her bare shoulders, one hand curled into a fist and tucked tight against her body.

Eris was wide awake, thinking dangerous thoughts as he watched Elain’s eyelashes twitch in her sleep. He was exhausted, his body heavy and sore. But he could not bear to let sleep take any of their time together. He must make every second count. Even as she slept, he could study the planes of her face and make a shrine to them in his memory.

Every few moments he would circle back to that thought of how little time they had left, every cycle escalating the frenzy in his mind. The loop shrank and shrank until there were no other thoughts in between the roar of it’s almost over.

His heart beat harder with every passing minute. That was probably what woke her, the thumping rhythm under her ear.

“Eris?” Elain mumbled, eyes fluttering open. One look at his panicked face, his fingers running through his hair over and over, and she was sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

“I cannot tell you,” He said, the tone in his voice one Elain had not heard yet. Unmasked, unveiled entirely. Even with a bleeding stab wound, he had not sounded so small and vulnerable.

“Please?” She whispered, grabbing hold of his trembling fingers and pressing them to her lips. “So I can help you.”

Eris was quiet for a long time. Elain sat over him, cross legged, one knee resting on his ribs. She held that hand to her lips and smoothed his hair away from his forehead. It hurt to watch the tears gather in the corners of his eyes and drip down his temple. His bottom lip trembled, chest rising and falling at an erratic pace as he tried to quiet his crying.

She sat in the silence with him, waiting for him to release whatever it was that weighed on him so heavily. An image came to her, of golden eyes filled with something precarious, and she wondered if she already knew what the answer might be.

“I am a wretch,” He croaked, finally, “I am wicked.”

“For what, love?” She asked, and watched his eyes shut tight. The tenderness, the sweet name, broke him. It destroyed whatever resolve he had left.

“I want you all to myself,” He buried his face in her lap so she would not see it crumple. His next words were muffled by the sheets. “I want you to stay with me. As horrible as I am for it, that’s what I want.”

“Eris,” Elain breathed. She had predicted correctly. Maybe she should be shaken by this confession, but she was focused on his quiet sobs, his shoulders shaking. Because after was a wretch, too, by Eris's standards.

Something settled in her, then. Something that had never felt solid before, always shifting and changing. But now, it clicked into place and a sense of calm washed through her. And a part of her knew it could not be undone. She could not pull those pieces apart, no matter what happened.

“Eris,” She said again, trying to pull him up to face her. He relented, meeting her gaze with red and watery eyes. A sweet and aching feeling filled her chest. Eris watched her eyes glow with pain, and misread it. Before Elain could speak and say the words that would break him, he had to let her know the rest.

“Elain,” He said, swallowing hard, breathing deep to calm himself.

Elain wondered if he had ever said her name out loud before. He couldn’t have. She would have remembered and engraved it in the back of her mind for how lovely it sounded.

“You are the sweetest, softest thing I have ever encountered,” Eris began, hands reaching towards her face with a mind of their own, “You are my most equal opponent. I had not laughed in so long I thought I may have forgotten how to. But then I laughed so much with you. And I cannot do it. I cannot face a world where you are someone else’s and I just go on alone. I will do it, because I have to. But you must know, at least, that I have fallen in love with you in only four days.”

Elain’s eyes welled with tears, and she smiled. Grinned. Eris tried not to let his heart leap with hope. She wrapped her fingers around his wrists and melted into his touch.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Elain whispered, choking on a laugh, “Because I want to go with you.”

“What?” Eris said, so softly she could barely hear it, teary eyes searching hers.

“I will stay. I will stay with you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Eris protested, shaking his head, causing a tear to drop from the tip of his nose, “We’ll be hated. We’ll be villains. Our love will be stained. They will think us cruel.”

“Then we will be a fairy tale after all,” Elain’s lips twitched up into a smile. Eris stared for a long moment.

“You’ll marry me?” His hands trembled and voice shook.

“I will marry you.”

Eris wrapped his arms around her and hauled her body toward him. One arm wrapped firmly around her waist, his other hand cradling the back of her head. It was so different from all of the other times he had held her. There was no bittersweet longing, only reverence, only deep relief. Like he was finally letting himself touch her the way he wanted to. He cried into her shoulder and held her tight.

“Lucien,” Elain whispered, muffled against his skin.

“I know,” Eris let out a sob, terrified that one word meant she was reconsidering. “I know. I’ll apologize to him every day for the rest of my life. I’ll let him fight me, if he wants. I’ll get him the best healers in Prythian and I’ll explain everything myself so you don’t have to. If you will please, please let me have you.”

“You have me,” Elain pulled away, brushing her fingertips across his freckled face. She pulled him in and kissed him. In a way that would hopefully make him believe her. “You have me, my love. Take me home.”

***

A little while later, with their things gathered, a calmer Eris winnowed them back to the Safe House. Morning light filled the cabin and painted everything in a layer of gold. Like the little gilded house was a gift from the sun. The first one to know their news.

Here, it would all begin. For better or for worse, Elain would make him a vow and allow it to paint her skin. Then they would decide how to face the world together. Lucien, her family, Beron, they would all know tomorrow. Today was theirs. Just one more day in solitary bliss before life began again.

Elain had never thought she would feel less weary about the idea of her immortal life. But with Eris at her side, she had never felt more capable. She breathed deep, the sweet smell of the cabin, the scent of her lover, and contentment filled every part of her. This was home.

[ennawrite]

Super late (I misread the dates and thought the first day was TOMORROW) but here’s a bit of a heavier piece for Day One of @tamlinweek 2024:

Title: Spring’s Stars

a Tamlin x Rhysand’s sister story

Synopsis: After Tamlin’s father gains intel on the Ladies of the Night Court, Tamlin has to pick himself up to rescue the female he loves and her mother.

Word Count: 4,709

You can also read here

For this prompt, I wanted to write about the days leading up to Tamlin becoming High Lord. I know there’s a lot of tension in the books about what happened, and so I wanted to write from Tamlin’s POV. I also played around with some of the fan theories that have been floating around. This story is a bit devastating (or at least I hope so 😉) so be warned. ***It also plays on Tamlin’s father being a shitty man. We’ve heard he was worse than BERON, and there’s bit of child abuse/torture happening***

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Tamlin awoke on the cold marbled floor of the Spring manor’s basement; the coppery tang of fresh blood filled his nose. His back was burning, the flesh in sloppy ribbons. Prior to the lashes, his father had forced a faebane tonic down his throat so he would not heal quickly. It often went that way, if Tamlin was not cooperating.

He tried to rise but could only make it to his knees before the room began spinning. Nausea filled his stomach. Tamlin closed his eyes, trying to find anything in himself to grasp onto to pull his thoughts away from the pain. He thought of music, of playing the fiddle with some of the males he met in the war camps years ago. The small spark in his chest quickly extinguished when he realized it would be weeks until he could play again, until he could do anything, really. Any movement would reopen the wounds splattering his back, that is if his father even offered him the grace of healing. He liked to linger the possibilities over Tamlin’s head, stringing him along on his sick game of life or death.

Tamlin opened his eyes and stared down at his hands in his lap, dark red ran down his arms and dripped off his fingetips onto his black trousers. He had half a mind to lay back down until he inevitably bled out, but then he remembered why his father had dealt out the beating. Why this time had been so bad, why Tamlin was not cooperating.

For some reason unknown to Tamlin, his father wanted to know the daughter of Night’s location. How his father knew his son knew her whereabouts, Tamlin wasn’t sure. Maybe it was his friendship with Rhysand, or maybe his father could sense something amiss. For fuck’s sake, he’d just seen Laila the night before. He probably still smelt like her, a mistake that he’d surely pay for if he didn’t get the fuck up now.

Tamlin gritted his teeth as he lifted off his knees, his hands shaking as he searched for any form of leverage on the blood splattered wall. His slid in the red mess causing him to jolt forward. Tamlim cried out as the gashes in his back ripped deeper from the sudden movement.

However, the pain would not deter him. His father knew where Laila and her mother were. He dealt Tamlin lash after lash, and yet Tamlin did not break. Not until his father brought a ‘friend’ in. A mind reader, apparently. He had an official name, but Tamlim could not remember it now. If anything, he was more of a mind torturer. He easily got the information out of Tamlim after worming his way through his brain, but he left visions of Tamlin’s mother being whipped on his departure. The female so badly bloodied, Tamlin actually threw up at the picture.

Tamlin realized the male was waiting outside the room the entire time, his father did not need to stoop to whipping him for the information. But Tamlin knew the lashes and the manipulated visions served a purpose of a different kind. It was loud and clear, ever since Tamlin had shown those early signs of powerful magic as a child and his mother’s worried face pleading for him to stop. Her begs him to hide his new magic. But like a fool, Tamlin eagerly showed his father.

Tamlin searched for any sign of that golden power now, but to no avail. His well was empty with the faebane in his system. So, he had to do this the hard way. Tamlin spit out a mouthful of blood onto the floor, the noise echoing throughout the dingy room. There was no furniture in here, just a wooden post to tie a victim to. Usually, Tamlin was the victim. A room solely dedicated for his father’s dark hobbies.

Tamlin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing red across his cheek. He took in one deep, agonizing breath and pushed off of his own raised knee for leverage. The muscles in his neck strained, the veins nearly bursting and his teeth almost shattering from the force of him clenching them together.

Finally, Tamlin was standing. He leaned his head against the wall, trying to ward off the swaying of the spinning room, but nevertheless, he was standing. Tamlin tried to control his breathing, the air in his lungs escaped in fast, shallow pants. His back burned like it had been lit on fire, but Tamlin could not focus on that. Somehow, he had to get to Laila before they did. His father and his brothers would not be kind to her nor her mother. Whipping was just a sliver of the grotesque arsenal they proudly carried on their belt. Even worse, they really enjoyed the chase of the hunt.

Tamlin turned away from the wall, heart pounding, and fire coursing through his veins as he thought about his father and brothers being let loose on Laila.

He would find a way to save her or die trying.

•

Tamlin made his way up the stairs, relying heavily on the rail to get up. Mercifully, the door to the basement had been left unlocked. He assumed his father did not expect him to wake up so soon. In fact, he had made sure that would be the case from the intensity of the lashes, but by the Mother, Tamlin had awoken. He would not let that divine intervention go to waste.

The manor was eerily quiet, the servants must have been sent home as there was no bustling about. His father probably deemed their prying eyes as a nuisance for his big plans for the evening, whatever they may be. Tamlin’s stomach churned at the possibilities, and he quickened his pace.

He made it to his room and nearly keeled over as he leaned over his desk, flesh blood dribbled on the rug, soaking deeply into the white wool. Tamlin blindly rummaged through a drawer until he found it. A small bottle, hidden in the very back. A gift from his mother, one that would surely have them both beaten half to death if ever discovered.

Tamlin uncorked the bottle with shaky hands and brought it to his lips. The milky liquid cooled his raw throat, soothing as it went down. Tamlin nearly fell to his knees as he felt that iron chain on his power shatter.

He sighed in relief as he felt his body beginning to heal. It would still take days for him to be fully recovered, but this was enough to get him to Laila.

Tamlin pulled a dark green tunic over his head, careful not to disrupt the slowly-healing wounds too much. And then he strapped the bandolier of Illyrian knives across his chest, a gift from Rhysand last Winter Solstice.

With the power now pulsing through him, Tamlin ran out of the Spring manor and into the darkness waiting beyond.

•

Tamlin’s power hadn’t replenished enough yet for him to winnow, so he took his chances on horseback. The stable was nearly empty when Tamlin got there, the scent of his father and brothers lingering. His father could have winnowed them all to the Illyrian camp, but that wasn’t their style. They would be enjoying the ride of this night, drawing it out as long as they could. Tamlin’s blood chilled and he quickly saddled up the small white mare that had been left behind.

They raced through the woods, the back of Tamlin’s tunic now soaked. His wounds were in a constant state of healing and opening due to the movement. But that was the least of his worries. He didn’t know how long he was unconscious, how much further ahead his family was. He prayed to the Mother that Rhysand was there. That somehow, someway, something was stopping his father from harming the females.

Tamlin kicked the heels of his boots against the horse’s side, and they ran faster through the thick canopy of trees.

•

It took too long, way too damn long, for him to reach the Illyrian camp Laila and her mother were staying at. Tamlin quickly tied the mare to a tree on the outskirts of the camp, not willing to risk being seen because of animal’s glaringly white coat.

Tamlim quietly made his way down the hill, making sure to stay as hidden as he could behind the bare trees. He did not hear any yelling, which was hopefully a good thing. But he also could not hear much of anything. Like even the nocturnal animals of the forest had been run off by some threat. Tamlin willed his quickened pulse to steady as he made his way to the closest house, a small thing made up of grey mortar and bricks.

Gripping a dagger in his hand, he peered over the side. When he didn’t see any immediate threats, he pushed further. His back had stopped bleeding, though the pain still lingered, and he hoped his scent would not be too strong to any passerby.

Tamlin made his way to the front of the house, heart pounding at what he beheld. It wasn’t the gory murder scene he’d expected. No, instead, the camp looked abandoned. He made his way down the path. Houses were ransacked, like his father heavily searched each one and got angrier as he went on, his job becoming sloppier and sloppier. But there were no bodies. There was no blood, or at least none that Tamlin could sense.

Tamlin ran to the house he was in the night before. He pleaded with the Mother as he ran up the stairs and into Laila’s room. The place was torn apart, her belongings strewn about, but her scent was faint. She had not been here in hours. However, his father’s scent was overwhelmingly strong. He would not be far away, if his smell still lingered so. Tamlin growled over the mixing of the two scents and quickly exited the room.

•

Tamlin was walking back up the slope to his horse, coming up with ideas of where Laila could be when he heard it. The ever so faint sound of wings flapping. Then the light scent of lavender and cedar. In an instant, Tamlin was swept up, completely embraced in the arms he knew too well.

“Are you okay? You’re bleeding,” Laila fretted, cupping his face with both palms. Tamlin leaned into the touch. She found the nook of a large tree branch to settle them into.

“I’m fine. My father—“ Tamlin trailed off, looking deeply into Laila’s strikingly blue eyes. “Did he hurt you? I saw what he did to the camp.”

“No. One of the scouts spotted he and your brothers in the forest. I was able to winnow most of the camp out, the rest flew,” Laila shook her head fast, brows deeply furrowed. “The scout overheard your father boasting about where he would hang my wings.” Her voice broke on the last word, and tears welled in her eyes.

Tamlin grabbed her, pulling her tight to his body. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, her black curls dancing in the wind.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” He mumbled into her hair. “I should have been here. I should have—“

She pulled back from him, shaking her head. “You could not have stopped it if you were here. These evil creatures in power cannot be stopped,” Tears trailed down Laila’s tan face and onto her light purple dress, the droplets darkening parts of the fabric.

“I would have killed them for you. Or at least die trying,” Tamlin cupper her cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumb. His own eyes now burned with emotion.

“I know, my love. I know you would have. And I could not bear witnessing that,” Laila kissed his palm and continued. “My father, he’s no better. Not really. He plans to marry me off to an Autumn Court son.”

Tamlin went wholly still, his hand dropping from her face as his breath hitched in his throat.

Laila nodded, a small sob escaping her. “The papers are signed, the wedding is set for next week,” She laughed lightly, the sound bitter. “That is, if your father doesn’t kill me first.”

“No.” Tamlin demanded, shaking his head. “No. I’ll get you out of here. You and your mother. I won’t let you two suffer anymore.”

Laila smiled sadly, “There is nowhere for us to go, Tamlin,” She placed a hand on his heart. It thummed in answer to her touch. “You are a good male. My brother as well. But there are not many others like you. No matter where we go, they will either hunt us for sport or sell us off like cattle. This is not anything new.”

Tamlin’s heart broke at the look on her face, at what she had been going through her whole life. Yes, Tamlin had to deal with his father, but he was able to walk freely without outside threats looming over his head. He wished he could scoop her up and bring her to a new world, where females did not have to fear living. Wish he had the power to create that new world for her.

Tamlin embraced her tightly, holding onto her as if this would be his last time doing so. “I love you, Laila. You are bound to my soul, like roots in the spring soil.”

Laila looked up at him, her blue eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “And I love you, Tamlin. I will love you, even when the last star in the night sky fades into nothing.”

She stood on her tiptoes, interlocking her hands in his blonde hair. Their lips met and the outside world faded into nothing. Their problems no longer existed as they kissed, becoming one against that tree.

•

Later, Laila flew them to a nearby lake so Tamlin could wash away the blood from his body before they went to her mother. His tunic stuck to his back, courtesy of the dried blood, and Tamlin winced. Instantly, Laila was behind him, and she tenderly unpeeled the shirt from his back. Tamlin thanked her with a soft smile and waded into the water, just enough to be half submerged.

Laila followed and began lightly washing him with a makeshift rag (a piece of Tamlin’s tunic she ripped off). Tamlin looked out at the water, at how the hundreds of stars reflected on the surface. It was hard to tell where the sky ended, and the water started. A starlit lake, of sorts.

Tamlin began thinking of the starlight pool in his own court. How odd the little body of water was, and the stories that came with it. Some claimed it to be a portal, a door built by the Mother herself.

Shivers went down Tamlin’s spine as Laila hummed quietly to herself, scrubbing his hair.

In that moment, Tamlin knew what he had to do.

•

“You can’t be serious.” Laila’s wide gaze burned into him.

“We have to try, Laila. You two can’t live like this,” Tamlin said, rubbing her shoulder lightly.

They made it to the small cottage she left her mother at. The older female managed to scrounge up a small dinner for them with the few resources she had, and Tamlin decided now was the best time to lay out his plan.

“You don’t even know if it leads anywhere.”

“I will make sure of it in the morning. If it doesn’t, I will find you somewhere else to go. I will not let Beron keep you in his claws. Or my father.

Laila stared into his eyes for a moment, and then silently nodded her head.

“Rumors say the pool leads to another world. I have heard of it enough that parts of it must be true. There is always truth in rumors,” Laila’s mother spoke from the head of the small table. The Lady of the Night Court looked fragile, her skin unusually pale, with a blanket wrapped around her. Her plate left untouched.

“Will you travel through it?” Tamlin asked, setting his fork down.

“I will do anything to get my daughter out of here.”

“Okay, then. We will set out tomorrow.”

•

At sunrise, Tamlin winnowed to the Spring Court. He knew his father or brothers would get word of his arrival soon, so he had to be quick. Tamlin jumped into the water, and rapidly kicked his feet until he hit the bottom. A sliver of glowing golden light caught his eye, he swam closer to it. He did not have the time to go through it, so he threw a rogue conch shell into the crack. It disappeared. He waited a moment. Still, it did not come back. Where it went, he was not sure. But for the first time in a long time, his chest glowed with hope. With a promise for the future.

•

A few hours later, right at dusk, Tamlin was back at the pool. Laila and her mother in tow. Late last night, he’d set a trap for his father and brothers to keep them occupied with. A couple of vandals he’d picked up from Spring’s dungeons, glamoured to resemble the Ladies of Night.

“Are you ready?” Tamlin asked the females, both trembling slightly, their wings drawn in tight.

They wanted to seek out Rhysand, but time would not permit. He did not know how long the glamor would hold out on the males, or if it even would. It was a power he had not gotten a chance to utilize much, especially not on others. It was either now or never. Laila’s mother was the first to move, she nodded quickly.

“Right. I will go first. To ensure there are no threats on the other side.” She said, holding her head high on her shoulders. She hugged her daughter tightly, kissing her on the cheek. She moved over to Tamlin, squeezing his shoulder and nodding once at him. A small gesture of approval for what he was doing. Then she walked to the pool and dived in headfirst. The water rippled in her wake.

Tamlin looked back at Laila, her blue eyes shining with tears. She stumbled into his arms, her lavender and cedar scent fully engulfing him. “Please don’t make me wait too long.”

He gently rubbed her head, her hair feather soft under his calloused palm. “I would never dream of doing such a thing. Though, I do often think of that one night when I was gone for two weeks. You seemed to miss me a lot. So much so, actually, that we didn’t sleep a wink the entire night.”

Laila lightly slapped his chest and Tamlin laughed, the sound reverberating through the trees. The birds answered, their sweet songs echoing back. Laila stared up at the darkening sky, at the canopy of trees surrounding them, swaying in the warm breeze.

“I would have loved to marry you in this world, Tamlin. To leave the courts behind and live simply as you and me.”

Tamlin pulled Laila tighter to him and their lips met, the feeling so sure and right. Tamlin’s chest burned, his soul aching to be with hers. He would be with her in the next world, or the next life if the Mother did not permit this one. But he would find her soul in every life, he knew that much to be true.

“Laila, it is time,” The Lady of Night said from the pool. Tamlin looked at her, her usually braided back black hair was now loose down her back from the water, the starlight casting it in a shine. Her hazel eyes twinkled, in a way Tamlin had not seen before. “The portal is real. And we must go now.”

Tamlin’s pulse quickened and he let go of Laila. “Go,” he said. “Go and I will be there soon.”

Laila nodded, brushing his face ever so slightly with her long tan fingers. A shiver went down Tamlin’s spine. He watched as she jumped into the water. She looked back once, her blue eyes burning into his green gaze, before both of their heads disappeared fully under the water.

Tamlin quickly turned, headed towards the manor. He had one last thing he needed to take care of.

•

When Tamlin reached the manor, no one was home. His father and brothers were of course accounted for, but he had no idea where his mother could be. And he would not leave without her. Would not let her live like this any longer.

Tamlin searched every room in the manor, and then the grounds. He’d hoped she would be in her rose garden, where she often spent much of her day, but she was nowhere in sight.

Frustrated, Tamlin paced his bedroom. Hours passed, the moon rising fast in the night sky, until finally he heard the front door open. The sound of his brothers' obnoxious voices and then his father’s steps down the hall. Tamlin froze, waiting for his door to swing open. He had his knives, but that would do no good against a High Lord. Thankfully, his father’s footsteps kept going.

He heard his brothers walk by and return to their rooms as well, his mother’s rose scent with them. Tamlin sighed out in relief. She was here, he would have to get her alone somehow, but she was here.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, his body exhausted. He’d been running on adrenaline for the past two days, his back still healing from the lashes.

At sunrise, when his father and brother went on their morning hunt, he would get his mother and take her to the starlight pool. But tonight, he would rest. His chest seemed to ease a bit as he laid down fully. It did not take him long to fall asleep, and soon he was dreaming of a life with Laila. Of their wedding. Of their children running to their grandmothers.

But the sun never did rise for his mother.

•

It was midnight when Tamlin heard his mother scream. He threw his bedroom door open, knives completely forgotten in his haste. His nostrils flared as the coppery tang of blood filled his nose. Tamlin ran faster down the hall until he reached his parent’s room. His father laid bleeding out on the floor; the male’s throat deeply slit. Even his High Lord’s magic was having a difficult time repairing the wound. Tamlin looked up, his mother’s golden curls flashed as the perpetrator lifted her up by her neck, her bare feet dangling in the air.

“No!” Tamlin yelled, racing towards them but it was too late. Barely a breath later, his mother’s head landed at his feet.

Tamlin did not think as he shifted. He felt power course through his veins, more than he ever had before. Perhaps his power fed on anger. On heartbreak and devastation.

In a blind rage, Tamlin leapt on the male. The beast he’d become had long, razor-sharp claws. A real blade was not needed as he ripped through the male’s neck. Blood spurted out and Tamlin dug deeper until he sliced through bone. Tamlin growled loudly as the male’s head detached fully from his body. He stood over the body, teeth snared and dripping blood.

“What did you do?” A voice demanded from behind him. It was familiar enough that it brought Tamlin out of that angry haze.

Tamlin looked to see the son of Night. Rhysand. His friend. Tamlin looked back at the body he stood over and he finally realized whose head he’d just ripped off. Who killed his mother. The High Lord of the Night Court. Laila and Rhysand’s father.

Tamlin shifted into his fae form and stalked towards Rhysand. “What are you doing here?” He commanded from the male.

“Oh, don’t act so innocent, I know you told them. Your brothers squealed like pigs before I ripped their fucking throats out.”

At Tamlin’s bewildered expression, Rhys continued, “They sent my mother and sister’s heads in a gods damn box, Tamlin. You let them do that.”

“You don’t know wha—“

“I saw them. I opened the fucking box,” Rhysand’s face turned a sickly green. “You were my friend. I introduced you to my sister and you what? You fuck her and give her whereabouts to your father? You helped them kill, Laila.”

The sound of sentries running through the manor’s grounds filled Tamlin’s ears. They must have heard the commotion and would be here soon. Tamlin shook his head slowly, “Rhysand, listen, they—“

“No. I don’t care what you have to say. But never cross me again, or your head will be on a spike in your mother’s little rose garden,” Rhysand slowly began to disappear into the shadows whirling around behind him. “I guess congratulations are in order, to the new High Lord of Spring.” And with that, Rhysand disappeared fully into the darkness.

•

Tamlin did not linger for much longer in the hallway. Did not even wipe the blood from his hands before he was out the door and headed to the starlight pool. It was sunrise by the time he made it, the trek longer without a horse and his chest ached as he watched the morning sky open.

He failed to save his mother. The female he’d found comfort in throughout all these years being his father’s toy. The soft, broken female who deserved to live in a world far better than this one. And he was so fucking close to giving it to her.

The morning birds began their song and Tamlin felt the power course through his veins. The wind blew his golden locks across his face, and Tamlin wielded it to stop. It did.

There was now a well of power in him, so deep he knew he could never fully fathom it. He could probably spend the next century diving into it and never hit the bottom.

No longer was he heir to the Spring Court. It was now fully his. He could change it for the better, if he chose to do so. But if he stayed, he would not bring Laila back. Could not. Not with Rhysand and not with Beron looming about. It was too dangerous here, the threats too extreme. As High Lord, he would always be a target for people seeking power. He would not force Laila to be part of that game.

Even more so, if he left, then there was no telling who the power would go to. Tamlin would not let someone else like his father lead the Spring Court. Their people had suffered enough under his rule.

Tamlin thought of Laila, of his dream of their life beyond. A future that had been ripped to shreds in the span of mere hours. But perhaps it was enough to get her out of here. Her and her mother could live freely in this other world, without the limitations they’d face here.

By noon, Tamlin knew what he had to do. He just wasn’t sure if he truly wanted to. But as High Lord, what he wanted didn’t matter anymore. Maybe it was selfish, but he spent hours looking for a sign from the Mother, any sign, to lead him in the right direction. He’d put his full trust in her thus far, so when a lonesome stem of a lavender plant landed in the pool and sunk under, he knew what was expected of him.

Tamlin dived under the silvery water, stars clinging to his skin. When he made it to the crack of the portal, he threw all of his power into it. His powers shone brightly as it hit the slit, casting the water in iridescent light.

He gritted his teeth, his leverage wearing thin under the water. In a blinding flash, Tamlin was thrusted back, the impact weakened by the water. He swam back to the crevice, only to be met with a faint line in the sand. A faded, white scar left behind in this world.

A twin to the one now etched on his very heart.

[linked-through-the-centuries]

Bird Club

(I thought of something absolutely hilarious and my friend enabled me to take it a step further. If I’m able to throw this exact scene in the au, it won’t be a for a while, so enjoy this for now [492 words])

It had been a long day of walking and Calamity was glad they were able to stop and take a break. His legs had started hurting something awful an hour back, but he hadn’t wanted to say anything about it. He walked up the hill and sat down under the tree, allowing his back to rest up against the trunk and laid his bow across his lap.

“…and I just miss her,” Sky sighed as he and Tune headed closer to the tree Calamity had chosen to sit beneath. The sky knight raised a hand to his feather earrings with a sad look on his face.

“I miss my bird too,” Tune nodded. “I taught ‘im to sing my favorite song right before I left!”

“Did you really?” Sky laughed, sitting down in the grass.

“I did, and it sounds shocking great. Ye have no idea how much I love the rat,” the mad pirate giggled, “but Hylia above he be singin’ at four in the mornin’!!”

Calamity fought to keep himself from laughing along with them, and held his bow closer to him. The movement caused his new traveling companions to look over to him.

“Do you have a bird too?” Sky asked him, pointing to the feather dangling off his bow, held there by a thin leather cord.

He nodded, and his companion’s faces lit up.

“Ye be one o’ us! Bird club!” Tune beamed. “What does your pet bird do?”

Calamity’s eyes went wide when he realized very suddenly that the others had pet birds, they had not been talking about Rito significant others, and he had very seriously misread the conversation. He couldn’t go back now, he couldn’t tell them he’d messed up. He would just have to play along.

‘He comes with me on my adventures sometimes,’ Calamity signed. If Revali knew he was trying to pass him off as his pet, the Rito would shoot him dead. And then get Mipha to bring him back so he could kill him twice.

“That’s so sweet!” Sky smiled, and Calamity forced himself to smile back.

‘Yeah, he’s very sweet,’ he said. Memories of him and Revali bickering and yelling at each other came to the front of his mind, and he tried not to laugh. His boyfriend was very sweet, and Calamity loved him a lot, but they were both also extremely petty. ‘He’s probably wondering where I’ve gone.’

“Ah, mine has separation anxiety too,” the sailor told him. “I feel bad fer the little fella, I hope he’s alright.”

And that was how he found himself in ‘Bird Club’, answering questions about his ‘pet bird’ for thirty minutes until Hyrule decided to come over and rescue him.

[If you have any questions or wanna know more about the characters feel free to shoot me an ask!! :)]