#the only reason i even went into the shadow and bone tag was to find pekka rollins thirst...and it's not even here...unbelievable

[coquelicoq]

WHERE is the pekka rollins thirst. shadow & bone cast a complete DILF to play the villain and i have seen JACK SQUAT about it in the tag. i don't even see pekka rollins thirst in the pekka rollins tag!!! what is even the point of this website!!!!!

[phantompanties]

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

A Classic Friday The 13th Type Story

Pairings: Incubus oc (lucius) x gn! Reader

Tags and warnings: cnc, sorta dubcon, predator x prey, big demon dick, tongue kink, no specified genitals, size kink, slight painplay (reader gets bit by a snake), aphrodisiacs, mindbreak if you squint, it gets sweet at the end

Everything seemed normal when you arrived at the lakeside for a little autumn getaway. Your family had a quaint little cabin you would go to now and then for a little vacation during the summer and fall, and this year you decided it would be a great idea to take your boyfriend to see where you spent so many years as a child. He was acting normal until you arrived at the woods just a couple of days ago. For some reason, he wasn’t as clingy as he usually was. He was more distant and jumpy. You’d ask him what the matter was, but he’d push you away and assure you nothing was wrong. You were worried, but nothing could have prepared you for what happened one evening by the bonfire when you returned from using the bathroom.

Lucius was gone. Completely gone. He wasn't in any of the rooms, not outside, not in the lake or by the bonfire, anywhere. This was concerning because at the very least he’d wait for you to return before he went anywhere. He never left you alone without telling you where he was going.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the growing nerves. Perhaps he just went for a walk. Your cabin wasn’t too far from a campsite that had a little convenience store nearby… maybe he just went to get a snack or those little packets of chemicals that change the colour of your campfire. Surely that was the case, right? You sat down and waited for him to return.

And you waited...

And waited…

After around an hour of waiting your initial concern grew to worry. Where could he have gone? Sure, there were bears in these woods, but they tended to steer clear of the populated areas. But even in the event of an animal attack, Lucius was a demon! He was more than capable of protecting himself against a mere bear.

Sighing, you wrapped a blanket around yourself to protect yourself from the autumn night chill and grabbed a flashlight to find your boyfriend in the woods.

“Luci?” you asked in the darkness as you strolled along one of the hiking trails.

No response.

“Are you trying to scare me? Because if you are, this is a really mean way to do it.”

Silence.

“I mean it, Lucius! Knock it off! You’ve been acting weird the whole trip! Tell me what’s wrong!”

A sudden rustling in the underbrush startled you. 

“Hello?” you called out, pointing your flashlight where you heard the noise. Nothing.

“Mmm…” you hum. “It's just an animal or something…”

You only took a few steps when you felt an icy glare drilling into you from somewhere. The pressure made a violent shiver rush down your spine. You looked behind you, but nothing was there. Suddenly another rustle in the underbrush… to the left… no! The right! Panicked, you managed to drop the flashlight, which rolled behind you. You wanted to go and grab it, but the sight of your shadow made you pause. It had horns. Now, you’ve seen something like this before. Lucius did a similar trick when you first summoned him. However, back then, the shadow only had two tall horns sticking straight up. This one had an additional two curved horns sticking out from the sides.

“L-Luci…?” you meekly whimper. “Is that you…?”

A deep chuckle echoed from seemingly nowhere. Far too deep and multilayered to be your boyfriend.

“Such a confused little lamb…”

On your shadow where your face would be, a space that looked like an eye opened. Then another. And another and another one after the other, nine eyes in total on the face of your horned shadow. But it wasn’t your shadow for long, because it began growing taller and wider, far bigger than you or your boyfriend with nauseating bone cracks and growling. From the tips of its horns down, it materialized. An all-black beast with a face like a mask decorated with eyes, four tall glowing teal-tipped horns, a strong muscular build with limbs covered in unruly black fur, unguligrade legs with cloven hooves and frightening large hands tipped with razor-sharp claws. Behind him, was a black snake that seemed to be its tail. To top it all off, the beast had Lucius’s tattoos. 

Your knees buckled, trembling.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the beast didn’t give you any grace. He growled and lunged at you.

You screamed, narrowly jumping out of the way and forcing yourself onto your shaking legs to run.

You ran like a bat out of hell. Unfortunately for you though, the beast was fast. He gained on you in an instant, swiping with his sharp claws. You managed just barely to get grazed, but unfortunately, you weren’t looking where you were going. A stray tree root caught your foot and you tripped.

You cried out, preparing to smash your face on the forest floor, but you were caught with what felt like ropes around your limbs. Then you realized the beast had caught you with its tendril-like hair.

“N-no! Let me go!” you cried.

Roughly, the beast slammed you against a thick tree, still holding you with its hair tendrils. It’s nine eyes bore holes into you,

“You know better than to run from me, lamb.” the beast croons, caressing you with a large finger. “You’re too small to get very far.”

“P-please don’t kill me… I’ll do whatever you want!” you beg, tears filling your eyes. 

“Anything I want?” the beast asks, amused. “Be careful what you wish for…”

The beast’s rough hands pinned you to the tree, and you heard a deep rumble in his chest. Suddenly his face opened up from the chin, revealing a gaping maw of razor-sharp teeth and a long glowing blue tongue, much like your boyfriend’s. You tried to shriek when the beast shoved the enormous tentacle-like tongue into your mouth. Your eyes were wide as you felt his knee slot between your legs, and his large furry hands travel along your body. He hooked two of his fingers under your shirt, ripping the garment right off. You squealed, attempting to move your arms to cover up, but the beast just chuckled, keeping your wrists restrained.

The beast’s tongue left your mouth, trailing down your neck and chest, swirling around your pert nipple. “Relax, lamb… I won’t hurt you. I’ll make you feel good… so good…”

You felt something heavy and smooth slithering up your thigh and torso. When you looked down, you found it was the beast’s snake tail. The serpent slithered up your body, looping around your neck. You shivered in fear when the creature stared at you with its glowing blue eyes. Suddenly, it struck, sinking its fangs into your neck. You yelped at the sharp sting, gasping when you felt tingling in your lower body.

“Aphrodisiac venom…” the beast hums. “You’ll become insatiable for me, lamb…”

You bit your lip, grinding your hips on the beast’s thigh. You began to feel hot, far far too hot.

“Can you feel it, lamb? Can you feel the pleasure flowing through your veins? I can smell how aroused you are…”

“F-fuck…” you whimper. “Please…”

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” the demon whispered as his tongue trailed up your neck. “You crave to be marked by the sin of lust…”

“Y-yes!” you sob. “I-I can’t take it!”

The beast grabbed you by the waist, turning you around on your toes so your back was against his broad chest. He then tugged down your bottoms, baring your throbbing sex to the cold night air. A deep purr rumbled through the beast’s chest as he then lifted you effortlessly with his large hands, manhandling you into a full nelson. You froze when you finally bore witness to what was between the beast’s legs. Sweet lord, it was huge, blue and most of all inhuman.

“I-is that… going to fit…?” you gulped.

“Relax, lamb… with my venom flowing in your veins, you’ll be able to take all of me no problem…” the beast purred. “Now then… I’m going to stuff you full and fuck you until you break…”

You gasped as you were slowly lowered onto the beast’s enormous shaft, eyes rolling back as the stretch burned and hit every spot in your aching walls. You cried out as you felt so full, the way his cock nestled inside you, molding you to his form made you dizzy.

“So tight… so hot…” The beast growled. The beast held tightly onto your thighs as he began thrusting up into you. Slowly at first, but quickly setting a brutal pace.

The feeling of this enormous demon using you as a fuck toy was unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Helplessly you watched as his large cock created a bulge in your lower belly, sliding up and down while he used you. You cried out as his hot tongue slid down your neck.

“Give in to lust, lamb…” The beast crooned. “Let your mind break as I use you… fill you to the brim…”

“F-fuck!” you wail. Tears spilled from your eyes as the beast slipped his long tentacle-like tongue down your body and played with your sex. The added stimulation sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You couldn’t take it anymore. You came hard.

“Good… let it take over your mind, lamb… let your inhibitions melt away.”

As you were recovering from your first orgasm, the beast switched positions, making you kneel face down in the dirt with your ass in the air. His cock never left your abused hole.

“Tell me what you want, lamb…”

“F-fuck me, please!” you wailed. “Fuck me more! Please, I can take it!”

The beast growled approvingly, gripping your hips and pistoning into you roughly.

You gripped the grass below you, nearly ripping it from the dirt as the demon fucked into you from behind. You just came moments before, but you could feel another building up almost instantly. Fuck, that aphrodisiac was WORKING. You mewled and whined, tears spilling from your eyes. “Gonna cum… g-gonna cum…!”

“Lose yourself, lamb… lose yourself to lust.” the beast purred, ramming into you harder than before. You cried as stars flooded your vision. You came once more, even harder.

The beast growled, roaring into the darkness as he buried his cock into your poor hole and unloaded his demonic seed to the point where it spilled out.

You groaned, feeling sticky and sore, but oh so good. You panted heavily, thoroughly fucked out on the forest floor.

Lucius removed himself from you, shifting back into his normal, more lithe self. 

“You did so well, darling.” his usual smooth voice crooned as he gently picked you up in his arms, holding you sweetly. What a beautiful performance. I’d give you all of the awards If I could.”

“Was… was I that good…?” you say breathlessly as your boyfriend kisses your head. 

“Absolutely perfect. I was almost worried there, to be honest. The snake bite doesn’t hurt too much, does it? The venom should have worn off by now.”

“It’s fine.” you giggle. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk for a while though…”

“Then I’ll carry you back to the cabin, where I’ll dress your wounds and run you a nice hot bath,” Lucius says, holding you in a princess carry.

“We should roleplay more often.” you giggle.

“Oh, absolutely, love. I can’t wait to see another one of your performances.”

[sukisheadlights]

WE'LL MAKE IT!

kazbrekker x grisha!oc

summary: when the coin- "I hate kaz brekker" grisha reveals how she truly feels for kaz brekker in the midst of a deal gone wrong, becomes when kaz brekker gets nervous.

story: grishaverse masterlist

rory’s voice mail 🎧: story <333 I really love writing for the grishaverse so let me know if you want some sort of kaz brekker x oc series, and give me ideas :) for now, enjoy! I love you say it back <3

and ofcourse, @chaos-mix I did not forget your tag :)

WARNING MAJOR ANGST AHEAD

Ilysen (ill-e-s-in) has always been considered a powerful squaller. She grew confined within the walls of the little palace, her beautiful cage. So naturally, when she escaped and went to ketterdam for solace (a bad idea on her part, truthfully), nobody expected her to survive it's gruelling streets.

But you know what they say, those who have tasted freedom will not give up that which they have tasted.

Ilysen walked into the barrel— doe eyed with bright light blue hair and the personality of a puppy. Quickly though, the barrel toughened her up— and her blue hair only became the shell of a person she once was. She earned a new name, 'The slyph of ketterdam' A beautiful creature that will manipulate the air at the comand of the smallest bone in her body. She will swipe you off your feet, and knock the air out of your lungs. Ilysen became a force to be reckoned with and she worked for no one. Kaz Brekker took notice of this, He took notice of it all.

He set his wraith on her tail and found out her secrets. Then, he tried asking her nicely to work with him, he tried getting jesper to charm her, he even he got his wraith to befriend her. But she only listened and agreed when he threatened her. When he threated to send her back to the cage she once escaped from.

Cruel, I know. So did she, this was the life she chose and kaz brekker and his antics were slightly respectable but no one would know that last part. Instead they would know the slyph that hated his soul, bones, and questionable fashion choices. They would come to know her as unreliable and the untried, theortical lose string whose loyalties could change at any given moment.

Nobody knew why she worked so closely with the Dregs. Not even the trusted sharpshooter and wraith could get get that out of her. Sometimes, kaz brekker found himself staring at his office wall not quiet knowing the answer himself. But he knew she wouldn't betray her only friends in the barrel. He knew that she only stayed because of inej and jesper. She had no other reason. Right?

One faithful night, when the barrel was as quiet as usual with it's citizens hiding in their houses and criminals lurking in it's shadows, the unofficial crows— atleast half of them, found themselves at the harbour for a deal.

They watched closely as the other party's leader approached kaz, really getting into his personal space hoping it intimidated the bastard infront of him. They watched as Kaz hit him with his trusty cane, And continued as both the bosses succesfully reached an impasse.

Until suddenly, they ran. Down the street and under the harbour's bridges, into the dimly lit caves— they hid. Those idiots had broken their conditions and brought out weapons, gunshots ringing through the harbour as the slyph struggled to save their lives, Kaz couldn't believe he let this slip past. For the first time, he felt stupid. He looked around the dimly lit underground cave as he thought of ways to save the lives of his band of teenage misfits.

Perhaps if he was faster, they would have missed the explosion above their heads. Perhaps then, Ilysen wouldn't have had to use her powers to hold up the ceiling above their head and instead hold open the only exit which was now burried under the rubble. Kaz worked quickly to try find a way out of the underground cave, but something felt wrong.

Ilysen, who would typically be complaining her lungs out right about now, was silent. A still, unmoving, shell of the noisy companion kaz had gotten used to. her hands remained raised up above her head as she held the roof up, scared to move even by an inch. The room was quiet as Kaz searched for a way out while encouraging the others to do the same. Another explosion. Those two-timing bastards were set on bathing in young blood but there was no time to complain now, only escape.

"I don't hate you." the words rung of the walls of the cave and pierced striaght through kaz brekker's heart as he turned around, Ilysen was looking straight at him now. "If we don't make it out of here—" She said as a shaky breath escaped her lips "—I just need you to know that I don't hate you."

A ringing explosion was the only sound that broke the silence between them.

"We're not dying today." He said, certain that if he couldn't save them, the fates would protect them all because she didn't deserve to die yet. She looked away as she struggled to hold up the ceiling distracting herself from the growing weakness in her arms and her chest. She knew what she had to do. But would she? "Ilysen, look at me." Kaz urged, hating himself for not being able to physically comfort her. She obliged.

"We're not dying today." He said as confidently as he could. His voice wavered somewhere, but he knew if anyone noticed it would only be her. He continued ignoring the pang of guilt in his chest, promising things he wasn't sure of. "I promise you."

Ilysen nodded, She would do anything for them. With steadying breaths she changed the directions of her arms.

In one swift movement, she raised the previously blocked entrance and pushed the crows outside, saving their lives. Unfortunately for her, the ceiling she once held up came crashing down. Only the saints could do something now.

Jesper, Inej, And Kaz stood still. The realisation of what unfolded weighing onto them heavier than the deafening silence of the vast ocean behind them.

They searched the rubble for her all night, not scared of what they might find. Kaz called in all the dregs as they lifted up large rocks in silence, secretly praying for the survival of their slyph. They found her body at the crack of dawn, A single ray lighting up her almost still body. Almost. She laid on the floor, a doll— but there was a faint rise and fall of her chest. There was hope for her survival. Kaz would never admit it but he owed her his life.

Even if she happened to remain in this unconcious state for the rest of her life, kaz would take care of her. He would never admit it, but he was grateful for her. And maybe one day, He could tell her that.

[cabinofimagines]

Chapter IV; convincing

So it took a while, but at some point I realised I wanted to finish writing at least arc one before posting the rest so oops.

Word Count: 1.2k

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-Asnyox

You both re-entered the clearing, followed closely by an overly excited Mrs. O’Leary. 

"No problem, I've got worse enemies than overweight satyrs." You overheard Percy saying. Nico was the first of you two to speak up, letting your presence be known to the demigod and tree nymph. 

"Good job, Percy. Judging from the trail of goat pellets, I'd say you shook him up pretty well." You could see clearly that Percy was nervous as he tried to smile. You were aware that Nico had made it pretty clear to Percy what his plan was, and if you were in this kid’s shoes you would have been nervous too. Luckily, you were just an idiot tagging along in the plan.

"Welcome back. Did you come by just to see Juniper? And who is your friend?" Nico blushed and you wondered whether it was about the friend thing, or about Juniper.

"This is (Y/n), and um, no. That was an accident. I kind of . . . dropped into the middle of their conversation." Blushing out of embarrassment then, you inwardly cheered. He also did not deny the friend comment you happily noted.

"He scared us to death!" Juniper said. "Right out of the shadows. But, Nico, you are the son of Hades and all. Are you sure you haven't heard anything about Grover?" Nico shifted his weight. Ah, she must have been crying worried over her lover. You had caught some of the stories around camp, however you did not know any of these people personally, so you tended to mind your own business. 

"Juniper, like I tried to tell you . . . even if Grover died, he would reincarnate into something else in nature. I can't sense things like that, only mortal souls." "But if you do hear anything?" she pleaded, putting her hand on his arm. "Anything at all?" Nico's cheeks got even brighter red. "Uh, you bet. I'll keep my ears open." 

"We'll find him, Juniper," Percy promised. "Grover's alive, I'm sure. There must be a simple reason why he hasn't contacted us." She nodded glumly. "I hate not being able to leave the forest. He could be anywhere, and I'm stuck here waiting. Oh, if that silly goat has gotten himself hurt—" Mrs. O'Leary bounded back over and took an interest in Juniper's dress. Juniper yelped. "Oh, no you don't! I know about dogs and trees. I'm gone!" She went poof into green mist. You gaped at her disappearance, never having gotten close to a tree nymph before. 

Mrs. O'Leary looked disappointed, but she lumbered off to find another target, leaving Nico, Percy and me alone. Nico tapped his sword on the ground. A tiny mound of animal bones erupted from the dirt. They knit themselves together into a skeletal field mouse and scampered off. You were impressed by his control, but truly you felt as if this shouldn’t have come as a surprise. 

"I was sorry to hear about Beckendorf." Nico said and you downcast your gaze, having heard the news quiet recently. This was one of the first people from camp that you knew who died, and the news had taken a toll on camp. 

"How did you—" Percy started, and you were reminded that he was there with Beckendorf on the ship. "I talked to his ghost." So the rumours about Nico’s powers were true – he could actually converse with the dead. "Oh . . . right." "Did he say anything?" 

"He doesn't blame you. He figured you'd be beating yourself up, and he said you shouldn't." "Is he going to try for rebirth?" Nico shook his head. 

"He's staying in Elysium. Said he's waiting for someone. Not sure what he meant, but he seems okay with death." You weren’t sure how to feel about these developments, but before you could give it much thought Percy started talking again.

"I had a vision you were on Mount Tarn," he told Nico. "Was that—" 

"Real," Nico said. "I didn't mean to be spying on the Titans, but I was in the neighbourhood." "Doing what?" 

Nico tugged at his sword belt. "Following a lead on . . . you know, my family." Percy nodded. You side eyed your friend, wanting the ask for an elaboration. However, you had felt him close the moment Percy started asking questions to him. You had heard a whisper about a sister, but there was nothing you could go off from. Nico was a mystery to you and you wished you could unravel it. 

"So how did it go?" Percy asked. "Any luck?" 

"No," he murmured. "But I may have a new lead soon." 

"What's the lead?" 

Nico chewed his lip. "That's not important right now. You know why I'm here." You saw Percy’s face fall. You knew Nico wanted you to help convince Percy, but you had barely exchanged a word with the son of Poseidon before. What were you supposed to do? Tell him you would safe him from being stabbed? 

"Nico, I don't know," Percy said. "It seems pretty extreme." 

"You've got Typhon coming in, what . . . a week? Most of the other Titans are unleashed now and on Kronos's side. Maybe it's time to think extreme." Nico looked towards you as to urge you to help him. You stepped forward. 

“If I may, Percy, “ you looked the son of Poseidon in the eye, surprised by the distrust in them, “I’ve been at camp since April – if Nico hadn’t brought me here I would have been dead and I know that even with how hard I – we – camp has been working,” you heard sounds of fighting in the distance, “I fear we are hardly a match for the Titan army.” Nico nodded in agreement. 

“This comes down to you and Luke. And there's only one way you can beat Luke We can give you the same power," Nico urged. "You heard the Great Prophecy. Unless you want to have your soul reaped by a cursed blade . . ." You hadn’t heard the prophecy fully yourself – around camp it was deemed a kind off taboo to mention or talk about.

“You can't prevent a prophecy," Percy said. 

"But you can fight it." Nico had a strange, hungry light m his eyes. "You can become invincible." 

"Maybe we should wait. Try to fight without—" 

"No!" Nico snarled. "It has to be now!" You were startled at his outburst – but you did agree with him. 

"Urn, you sure you're okay?" Percy asked and you threw him a wary look. 

“Percy, look,” you started as you noticed Nico taking a deep breath, “It will be significantly harder, maybe even impossible to take this journey when the fighting starts. Maybe even too late- if you want to prevent any more losses, deaths on our side you must go now.”

“I'm sorry if I'm being too pushy,” Nico’s gaze was strict towards Percy, “but two years ago my sister gave her life to protect you. I want you to honour that. Do whatever it takes to stay alive and defeat Kronos”

"All right," Percy decided. "What do we do first?"

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Outing with Rosie and Alastor, where the avowed purpose is merely Shopping around Pride

They come back eight hours later laughing lightly, covered in blood, a few bones retreating back through the skin as they heal and arms filled with bags.

By which, of course, I mean the arms of a shell-shocked Husker who is also drenched and looking like he's mid war flashback. Niffty popping out of one of the bags atop the heap, waving at the others in the Hazbin Hotel foyer and gesturing at her pretty new dress!

As the doors swing open there's the sound of more panicked screaming, explosions and generalised terror than usual.

"Uhhhh... have a good time, guys?" Charlie asks, diplomatically.

"Oh, it was quite the jaunt Charlie, you really should come along next time with your lovely little lady!"

"Yes, Charlotte, you and Vagatha should come next time. Perhaps you might even find joining in a little game of Knife Tag quite stimulating, hmmm?"

Husk, hands shaking as he lights a cigar makes pointed eye contact and shakes his head.

"Aha, maybe next time then!" she declines, taking the hint.

"Speak for yaself toots, tell me more about this murder slash shopping spree cause it sounds like exactly the sorta thing Cherri and I enjoy doing. There any limits on the amounta limbs you can use in Knife Tag...?" Angel asks.

Twin cannibalistic overlords turn their genuine delight in the direction of the pornstar.

'Why Angel, of course not! If Al gets to use his shadows, and I am allowed to use my blood magic, I can't see any reason you wouldn't be allowed the... upper hands!" Rosie bursts into laughter, and Alastor chimes in as well. The cacophany reminding everyone that sometimes power corrupts, but it also sends you a little 'round the bend too.

"Alright, count me in next time ya gonna play, I'll grab Cherri... sounds like a damn good time."

"Splendid my good man, you won't regret it! And of course, as the new player, it will be your choice of the final victim... and I believe we can safely say that Rosie and I will be happy to take on any... specific insignificant little insectoids... between us. It's only good manners, after all."

"...Husk, I'm about ta fuck ya boss and his bestie. You might wanna look away."

"Okaay, how about we try some deep breathing exercises and calm down..." Charlie intervenes, half delighted at the budding friendships around here but also caught up on whatever the fuck Knife Tag is and who is howling outside. "Let's go to our happy places..."

"Oh I'll get all up in ya happy places if you'll let me..." Angel grins, winking suggestively at the cannibal overlords. He doesn't normally do broads, but well... for removing Valentino, he'd marry Rosie on the spot.

"Well, dear, it's not as if we're opposed to the idea of a mouthful of Sinner meat..." Rosie chortles, and Al side-eyes her with a grin. These two should not be left unsupervised together.

Charlie's shoulders slump. "Husk... I think I need a drink."

"Me too, Princess. Me too."

"Dontcha worrie Whiskers, Toots, I got this all in hand. Or at least, I will in a minute."

"GET OUT OF THE FOYER WITH YOUR NASTINESS!" Vaggie yells, waving the spear. Soemtimes these Sinners were EXHAUSTING.

Angel narrows his eyes at her. "You still mad I was gonna make you an' charlie pay for the full experience, huh?"

"...uuuuuuuuuuuurrrrgh, Charlie why didn't you choose a less mouthy sinner for your redemption projeeeeeeeect..." she groaned, slumping over to the bar.

"Nah. I know ya love me, Vagina..."

"Charlie can I kill him...? Please?"

"Hah, I knew ya were into pegging. Always talkin' about impaling a guy like I can't zero in on your kinks..."

Lucifer, one foot in the door, pauses. "Did I walk in at a weird time? This feels like a strange conversation to have in the foyer."

"Oh, hey Dad... Rosie and Al just went out for some shopping and something called 'Knife Tag' and when they were telling us about it, they invited me to play but I said no so then Angel said he'd like to maybe with Cherri and they said he could ask them to kill The Guy he's stuck with and then Angel said he was going to... uh... do various things that I'm not talking to my dad about and-..."

"Char? BREATHE." Vaggie reminds.

Lucifer's eyes narrow as he mouths the words 'knife tag', and then pushes the door back open to look outside.

"Is THAT what happened out there? What the FUCK kind of game is Knife Tag to do..." he gestures, as a building explodes in fiery debris. "THAT?!"

"Never you mind, your Lowness, it was merely a bit of fun to pass the time. Though if you want to try your hand sometime, we can oblige..."

"Not before my turn, though." Angel reminds them, buzzing with excitement and texting Cherri about it right that second. She was on her way.

"We would not dream of it, my effeminate fellow, you will bring an interesting element to the match as, I'm certain, will your little explosives-loving friend... Miss Bomb, was it?"

"Hells yeah she will! Can't wait... when you wanna do it?"

"Well my schedule's free tomoorow after midday, if you had time to pencil it in Angel. I think it's important to make time for a little relaxation and murder now and then." Rosie adds, glancing in a pocket book that seemed to match her attire.

"Oh, yeah I can fit that in..." he pauses, holding in a That's what He Said with every fibre of his being, "But I meant, ya wanna go get wild in another way? I got space before my shoot tomorrow morning, and Cherri's on her way to spice things up, so..."

Lucifer sits down at the bar. "I will take whatever you have, immediately, that will deafen me on consumption."

"Make that two."

Husk starts mixing something with an alchemical flair immediately. "One Deadman's Switch coming right up for everyone... you'll sleep right through anything that might happen in the next twelve hours. Promise."

"...Huck was it? You ever been kissed by the Devil, cause I think you've earned it!" Lucifer said gravely, full of sincere thanks.

"You uh... you got something that'll blind me temporarily too?" Charlie laughs, only half-joking.

Cherri slams open the door with the subtlety of a grenade in a toilet bowl. "Wassup mates, I'm here to fuck and fuck shit up!"

Husk pours the drinks a little faster.

[syrupwit]

20 questions for fic writers

Thank you for tagging me, Sulky @sulky-valkyrie! In return I am tagging: @chipper-daily, @sunrisetune, @malatruse, @potatowitch, @only-slightly-terrified, @ladysavannah908

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

On my main, 178 :-)

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

On my main, 340,181 words as of today!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

All of them!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Almost all smut:

Struck (Invader Zim, Dib/Zim)

table (Invader Zim, Dib/Zim)

softly through the shadow of the evening sun (MCU/Venom films, Peter Parker/Venom Symbiote)

Salt (Invader Zim, Dib/Zim)

Like You Better Framed and Dried (TUA, Allison/Vanya, written shortly after S1 dropped)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I used to reply to every comment, but now my replies are more sporadic. This is due to a combination of being very busy and not always having the energy to fight my social anxiety. I don't feel guilty about it, nor do I mind if others don't reply to my comments or reply after a long time -- this is a hobby, we've all got lives.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Never Satisfied -- mind the tags please. Alternately, Struck.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

My stuff usually has happy endings, but the happiest narrator is probably the Vagabond Girl in Hearth-Cakes.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Rarely! It's been from people who are ticked off that I wrote m/m smut, or that I wrote a kink they find depressing.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do. Many kinds.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Is TMA + The Bone Key crazy? Collaboration

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone asked to translate a short Miles/Walrider Outlast fic of mine into Korean, which was exciting and flattering. I gave permission, but I don't know if they ended up translating it.

This is tangential to the question, but MiladyMorningstar on AO3 did an absolutely wonderful podfic of my IZ mail order spouse series: Typical Human Courtship Series [Podfic]

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I am a diva, and I don't think I could do it. The round robin we did for Sav's birthday went well though :-)

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

ZADR -- it set my tastes as a teenager and does to this day.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Worst Man :( I have an outline and like 4k-ish but idk.

16. What are your writing strengths?

These are the top skills I feel confident using:

Description

Dialogue

Poetic voice

Humor

Making the reader go "wait, that's fucked up"

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm sure there are many I have yet to discover (AND CONQUER) but:

Not explaining things enough

Plot

Getting impatient and rushing to the conclusion

Action scenes

Smut

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

OK, I actually have strong feelings about this. Unless the fic takes place in two languages, canon does the interrupting other-language thing and you're mimicking it, or there's some other important reason (aesthetic, personal, logistical, etc.), "He informed them in Spanish that the goose had escaped" or "Leia and the space bank robber carried on a furious conversation in Huttese" works better than inserting a block of non-English dialogue into the text.

Additionally, I hate the way it looks when non-English words are italicized in description or dialogue. Thus, I don't do it. If a character routinely uses slang, terms of endearment, or other expressions not in English in canon, those are not getting italicized in my dialogue for that character. Ever!!!!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Gosh, I think it was Spirited Away... I got ff.net hate for it. I got flamed! People in the Neopets General Chat ("GC") had to counsel me.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I will never tell :-)

[spock-smokes-weed]

I posted 3,202 times in 2022

489 posts created (15%)

2,713 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@awkwardalphajay

@gloriosa-celeste

@reyns456

@risingpilots

@badatusernames

I tagged 2,358 of my posts in 2022

Only 26% of my posts had no tags

#art - 528 posts

#lord of the rings - 268 posts

#ace attorney - 197 posts

#naruto - 171 posts

#video - 128 posts

#good omens - 124 posts

#ramblings - 115 posts

#what we do in the shadows - 113 posts

#star trek snw - 83 posts

#frodo baggins - 78 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#cons are coming back so many next year when i have a frodo cosplay put together i’ll find a con that’s semi close to home that he’s going to

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I find it so funny that the scene in the church is where Gaiman realized he wanted Tennant as Crowley. He really went “who do I know who’s both boneless and all bones at the same time, who would be great for this scene of a man trying not to touch holy ground” and then immediately decided that he needed David Tennant.

192 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

#4

Good reasons why I want canon Bi Kirk: he’s been an important queer icon for decades and I think it would be awesome to confirm that in canon and has so much story potential (both serious and wacky)

Evil reasons I want canon Bi Kirk: I want one particular senior citizen to die mad about it

228 notes - Posted May 24, 2022

#3

If even they don’t end up being anything romantic, I’m still very excited to see how Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship will be different in seasons two. Like now that they don’t have to deal with keeping up appearance with heaven and hell, they can be so much more open with their friendship and the fact that they care for each other.

I keep thinking about this season is gonna all be about heaven and hell, while also having Crowley and Aziraphale 100% not giving a shit about their old bosses and just living their best lives. That’s such a great set up for a season and I just NEED IT NOW!!!

Also I think about how John Hamm’s Gabriel is coming back, and I can’t wait to see his character of “the worst boss you hate” interact with Rebel Angel Aziraphale.

253 notes - Posted November 12, 2022

#2

One thing that’s been on my mind is how things so integral to human culture like singing, dancing, writing, making art, playing sports etc. are now only acceptable activities if you’re good at it.

I think singing it the one that gets under my skin the most cus humans fucking love music, sing ur heart our girlie, that’s what g-d made you to do. Sing and dance and write fucking poems. Do it because you’re human and not because you need to be good at it.

450 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Best thing about Return of the Jedi is that we get a lot of scenes with Luke and Vader standing next to each other and it shows just how tiny Luke is compared to Vader

See the full post

819 notes - Posted July 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[lookscankll]

HEADCANONS/DYNAMICS (MOBILE PAGE)

GENYA & THE DARKLING 

GENYA AND THE DARKLING TAG

My Genya isn’t attracted (romantically or sexually) to the darkling. She sees him as a father figure.

Genya is 5 years old when she’s first brought to the little palace and first meets the darkling.

the darkling is the first person to see her power as a gift and the first person to make her feel at home.

She’s 9 years old when he gifts her to the queen without consulting her. She feels betrayed but quickly forgives him because she first finds a mother figure in the queen and a brother/friend in prince nikolai.

Genya is 13 years old when she makes the hard choice to endure but keeps confiding in the darkling on occasions. she becomes his loyal spy and soldier. Her dreams of revenge and the glimmers of hope the darkling gives her are what keeps her holding on.

Over the years, she visits him quite often and they even have that little tradition of spending the evening of her birthday together. They have cake and tea together and he entertains her with some stories.

Genya is quite sad when the darkling is out of the palace for her fifteenth birthday but that is also the day she first meets David Kostyk.

The other grisha didn’t know the whole truth. They only knew her as the Queen’s pet and the King’s whore. The Darkling had been her only friend, until David but, even then, David didn’t know the full extent of what went on behind closed doors and she didn’t wish for him to know. (excerpt from an old thread of mine)

MY GENYA’S THOUGHTS ABOUT THE DARKLING IN SIEGE & STORM / SHADOW AND BONE S 2 As much as Genya owed The Darkling her life, she remained utterly afraid of the man. Of the father figure who’d led the child she was into the grasp of a hungry King when she was too young to consent to anything of the sorts or even grasp the amount of suffering she was signing up for. But it wasn’t just the man she was terrified of. Because, although his insistence that she be given the room next to his and stays by his side at all time never failed to trigger her (it reminded her of the king’s predatory behaviors towards her), there were true monsters to fear as well. His Nichevo'ya. Creatures made of shadows craving human flesh. Creatures he’d convinced his followers he had complete control over but Genya had witnessed the truth. […] Control was but an illusion. really. A mask he kept on and one that came tumbling down the moment they were alone and he’d have her touch up his scars so the others wouldn’t see the true damages he’d suffered at the claws of the volcras, other creatures he’d made a long time ago.Merzost was poisoning him. And Genya knew enough about poison and its effects to know there was no cure for this specific affliction of his. Claiming the last Morozova amplifier might buy him time at most. He’d die eventually. But there was no telling what cruelty he’d be able to accomplish between now and the moment he’d draw his last breath.  […] She just had to hold on long enough, be his loyal soldier till the end and then she’d be free. For good. (excerpt from a dabble i wrote)

MORE HEADCANONS WITH OTHER CANON CHARACTERS BELOW THE CUT

 _________________________________________________

GENYA & NIKOLAI 

KOLYANYA TAG

Genya had a brother-sister-like relationship with Nikolai when they were much younger.

One day when they were kiddos, Genya was sad because she felt like she didn’t belong and some girls at court had been mean to her because of her bright red hair, calling her a witch. Nikolai stepped in and let her tailor his hair red so they’d stop making fun of her. He said that they would look like siblings this way, even though he already thought of her as his sister. For some reason, she hasn’t been able to reverse it for days and Nikolai’s new hair color quickly earned him the folk name Too-Clever Fox.

Genya hasn’t forgiven him yet for leaving her behind to serve in the infantry while she suffers silently at the hands of his father (which he doesn’t know). He used to write back to her, then he stopped (right around the time Dominik died, which Genya isn’t aware of) and Genya kept on writing to him until she eventually stopped and lost hope in ever seeing him again.

My Genya knows immediately who Sturmhond really is when she first meets the privateer hired by The Darkling and she says nothing to her General. She keeps the secret because she knows he’s gonna set Alina free and this is what Genya wants. She wants to right her wrongs and she wants Alina to be safe.

Genya hadn’t seen the prince in years but her faith in him had been rekindled when she’d run into Sturmhond, the privateer the Darkling had hired to help capture the second amplifier. Of course, she’d known who he was before he fled with Alina. It had taken a simple exchange. Something that might have seemed trivial to anyone else. But not to her. It hadn’t made sense for a privateer, a non-patriot, to ask her if the crown prince had survived the illness that had spread in the Palace. Nor for the relief to appear in his eyes when he’d read a quiet “ yes ” in her ambers. And  if she looked closely, she could perceive the faint traces of tailoring. The red hair had also been a telltale sign for her. He’d once asked her to tailor his hair this exact shade of red when they were kids, so the girls at Court would stop making fun of her bright red curls and calling her a witch. She’d had to admit the muddy green eyes were hiding his too-clever hazel pretty well. She hadn’t said anything on the matter, though. She hadn’t told the Darkling, her General, who he truly was. […] She couldn’t risk Nikolai getting captured […] They’d stood in silence, an understanding passing between them. A silent promise. He knew. She knew. […] And he was gonna free Alina. Alina Starkov. Another love Genya had sacrificed for her freedom. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe she could still make it right. (excerpt from a dabble i wrote)  

Genya also knows Nikolai is not the King’s son.

Yes. Genya knew Nikolai was no Lantsov. Alexander wasn’t the only one to talk when he was drunk on kvas. Queen Tatiana was also quite chatty without her inhibitions. Genya had seen the miniature the queen kept close and the portrait inside and she’d heard Tatiana talking fondly of the man it depicted. It had been clear to her that the woman truly loved both her sons but her Sobachka always had a special place in her heart. And Genya understood why. Nikolai might’ve been a bastard son but he was the product of love. (excerpt from a dabble i wrote)  

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GENYA X DAVID 

DAVNYA TAG

Genya couldn’t allow herself to care for anyone else. Not the way she’d cared for ROZA. The first Otkazat'sya she’d fallen for. A servant girl, like her. But when the King had heard about the teenagers being somewhat involved, he’d had Roza framed for theft, banning her from the Grand Palace. She never heard of her first love after that. And then, there was David whom she’d met when she was fifteen. That day, she’d brought the fabrikators some of the queen’s jewelry that were broken or out of style so they could use it for the material. Genya was sad because the Darkling was away and she had no one else to celebrate her birthday with (usually, the darkling and her had tea together and he would entertain her with some stories). David had noticed she seemed fond of one of the necklaces and he’d fixed it for her. She’d been surprised by the gesture. She’d never worn it, though. Because she had to wear the king’s jewelry instead, as asked by the queen to show how grateful she was for the attention she’d been given. The necklace was still hidden in her bedside table back in her old room. Since then, Genya had found various excuses to come by the fabrikators’ lab but she couldn’t bring herself to make a move. She’d been terrified of the king finding out she had feelings for someone else. If David was sent away, or worse, because of her recklessness, she would’ve never forgiven herself. And so, she’d loved him in secret. Loved him from a distance. (excerpt from a dabble i wrote)

Because of what happened to Roza Genya is afraid of being involved with anyone else and keeps her crush on David (and any of the other loves she has) a secret and will rarely act on her feelings in public.

__________________________________________________

GENYA X VASILY @COURONNEZ 

VASILENYA TAG

Vasily is the first man Genya slept with willingly.    

❛ You were the first man who ever touched me…because I wanted him to. ❜ It had been a mystery, really. How she’d fallen for the son of the cruel king who’d abused her. But Vasily was not his father. Sure, he liked gambling and kvas and horses… and he’d perfected the art of unlacing corsets. But he’d done the latter with complete consent of all parties involved. Something King Alexander couldn’t brag about that was for sure for the man had never asked for anything in his life, he just took. […] She hadn’t planned for anything to become real between [her and Vasily] […] He’d been a way to tear down the Lantsov bloodline from the inside. King Alexander might’ve very well killed his son himself if he knew he’d taken what he’d deemed his. But, for some reason, she’d found herself bringing Vasily in places his father would never think to search. And her heart would start pounding whenever they would meet. And it had nothing to do with the fact she was anticipating his death. No. It was…something else. Longing. And with him, she was in control. Always. She picked the time, the place. In his embrace, she was no servant. She was a Queen. And that would be the closest she’d ever get to be one. And then, there’s this one night where he’d canceled on her and she’d still sought him out only to find him devastated. He’d lost a horse to a mysterious illness. And the coincidence hadn’t been lost on her that it was the one they’d rode into town a few days ago… She’d comforted him, lulled him to sleep. And the next day, she’d gone back to treating him like the Tsesarevich he was […] When he’d ultimately cornered her for answers, she’d told him that it was over, that there couldn’t be anything else between them. That he was a weakling for crying his heart out for a stupid horse and that she wasn’t fit to play nurse to a pathetic prince. She needed him to hate her, to despise her with all his heart so that there’d be no room for any love to bloom. Because his father wouldn’t be satisfied with just the distance between them. And next time, he might actually go straight for the kill, instead of taking another of Vasily’s beloved horses. (excerpt from a dabble i wrote)

__________________________________________________

GENYA X ALINA 

GENYALINA TAG

My Genya is romantically attracted to Alina but she will not confess to her because she’s convinced she doesn’t deserve Alina’s love (or anyone's love for that matter) as she’s been deceiving her friend and hiding valuable information from her because of her loyalty to The Darkling.

The redhead’s heart had skipped a beat. The Darkling is also leaving tonight. Could it be——   ❛ Did he found her? ❜ The urgency in the tailor’s voice would’ve stopped anyone dead in their tracks. She couldn’t have helped it. She cared about Alina. The girl had been so kind to her and, unlike Genya, Alina had been hundred percent genuine about it. As soon as the word came out of her mouth, she regretted them.Regretted to be a gentle heart in the middle of a war zone. As much as she was loyal to the Darkling, she still wished for Alina to have her freedom. No one deserved to be used as a weapon like the beauty had been since she was a child. (excerpt from an old thread of mine)  

__________________________________________________

GENYA & DOMINIK @AVANTURIS

Dominik and Genya were childhood friends before he was banned from the palace. Genya, Dominik and Nikolai had some lessons together and they also spent their free time together. But Genya never confided in Dominik or Nikolai about her abuse.

__________________________________________________

GENYA & QUEEN TATIANA @BATAILLEURIS

GENYA AND TATIANA TAG

TBA.

[clairecrive]

Hi could we please get a really angsty fic with nikolai (with a happy ending pls) where reader and he has had a fight so they maintain the facade on the outside bc they're royals but in private it's just ignoring each other/angst?

Young Royals

A/N: ahh, this is angsty alright but it seems I'm only capable of writing hurt/comfort lately. This took a life of its own and it's long af but I hope you like it anyway x

Warnings: miscommunication, angst, fighting, hurt/comfort, Nikolai is a bit absent, you're a bit jealous of his relationship with Zoya

Tags: @jupiterandbutterflies, @agentsofsheilds , @for-bebbanburg , @randomoutsiders , @pansysgirlfriend , @hannaxmaria , @vintagebitc , @story-scribbler , @crowssixof , @odetostep,@lizzie-he4rts, @korol-lantsov, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @gallysonegoodlung, @a-c-lee, @mriddlemethis, @carnationworld,@thanossexual, @luvxginger, @sanna2020,@partiesandblurrypolaroids, @edithsvoice, @wafflesandschemingfaces (tag list form)

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

"Do not put words into my mouth, Nikolai."

"Please, you already have so many, my love," he scoffed and the use of the term of endearment hurt the most.

"You're making me sound like a brat while I'm providing you with a viable solution," you insisted with a flare of your hands, frustrated by his unwillingness to listen to you.

"No, you're not. What you're doing is being childish."

"I'm your queen, Nikolai. I'm only asking to be more involved."

"You're my wife, y/n, and you know nothing about politics or running a country." He retired, putting emphasis on wife. This felt a lot like being put into place. And the fact that it was your husband doing so, hurt. It was also the most you had seen him this week.

"Neither did Zoya, nor Genya or anyone who's currently running the country."

"That's different and you know it."

"Only because you're making it so," you exclaimed finally exploding. His despondency got on your nerves and this conversation was going nowhere anyway.

Surprised by your raise of voice, Nikolai stood before you just blinking at you.

Sighing, you took a step toward him, holding your hands up, "look, you're right, I don't know about running a country but teach me. I'm not stupid, I'll pick it up."

"Why are you insisting so much? You've never shown any interest in politics before." He gave you a puzzled look like he didn't really believe your intentions.

"I've never wanted to be queen before." before meeting you.

"Ah, I see," he chuckled mirthlessly, "I put you in this situation and now you're taking your revenge."

To insinuate that your marriage with him was you "being put into a situation" rather than a consensual decision you had made out of love was absurd.

Nikolai was right. You had never cared about politics or diplomacy before meeting him. You were a soldier. There was no reason for you to meddle with something that didn't concern you.

But now you were queen and you felt a responsibility towards your people. You wanted to help but so far, Nikolai hadn't allowed you to take part in any meetings. He said that anyone who needed to be there was already involved. What he didn't tell you was that while Grisha made excellent soldiers and even good councillors, one of them being a royal was a very different matter.

He had indulged his love for you by marrying you. You were his vice and he simply couldn't accept the idea of being without you anymore. He had married you, consequently making you queen, going against what his advisors told him.

While he ignored his warnings he was painfully aware, however, how difficult it was going to be for a Grisha on the throne. It was the first time something liked this had ever happened and unfortunately, the country was filled with people who resented Grisha for their powers.

Nikolai feared that the people were never going to accept you. Hence why he'd been keeping you secluded in the palace.

To be fair, you were doing a wonderful job. Like he had pointed out, you were not accustomed to politics but you made up for that with empathy and kindness. You started to interest yourself with the problem of poverty and lack of provisions for some parts of the country.

And while no one was aware of it, Nikolai often turned to you for military strategy. You were an apt soldier and had fought bravely alongside him and everyone else in the battle of the Fold. You were the very reason why he was still alive, to be honest.

While this arrangement worked for the first months of your reign, it was starting to feel an inadequate effort. You needed to do more, you wanted to do more. You didn't expect Nikolai to oppose it so vehemently.

"If I didn't want to be here I wouldn't be, Nikolai, you'd do well to remember it," you pointed out coldly, straightening your spine.

"Since you seem so adverse at spending time with me or including me in important matters, I'll find someone else who will." And with that, chin held high, you walked out of the room.

You missed him. It felt absurd to say this but you missed your husband. He was always busy with meetings or official visits to some noble across the country. For most of them, he went alone or with Zoya.

You knew that she was his first in command but you couldn't help but be bothered by it. It was one thing to accept the fact that he hadn't given the role to you "because the queen cannot have that role as well", it was a whole other thing to accept the fact that another woman spent more time with your husband than you did.

Countless were the fights you had with him in this regard. But they were pointless. Nikolai was still set on not bringing you and he and Zoya were always found together.

You didn't know what hurt more. The blow at your pride for being denied a position you deserved because of who you loved, the jealousy or being punished for your identity.

One thing was sure though, it was getting too much. At first, you pulled thought for Nikolai but now that you didn't have him anymore, your efforts seemed to be in vain.

So, like you had told Nikolai, you looked for someone who was willing to teach you. You wanted to help and if Nikolai wasn't going to let you here at the palace, then you'd find somewhere else.

Count Kirigin had always been nice to you and he was a very generous host. You knew that he played a central role in Nikolai's plan so you thought that there was no one better than him.

You reached out to him, wrote him a letter in which you showed interest in his activity and asked him if he was willing to show you. Of course, anything that came from the queen or the king couldn't be denied but you knew that the Count truly enjoyed your company. If your position didn't put so much higher than everybody else, you'd even consider him a friend.

You waited for his reply before putting in motion the preparations for your departure.

In the meantime, you and Nikolai kept conducting your separate lives. Usually, you'd only see him at night when he returned to your chambers if you were still up. Now, you had decided to sleep in separate rooms too.

If he wanted a wife, then a wife he'd get. But kings and queens do not sleep together.

If the new arrangement was bothering him, you didn't know. He hadn't reached out to you nor made any move to rectify your decision.

Turns out that he wasn't even at the Palace. He had left for a mission near the border with Shu Han and wouldn't be back for at least a week. Well, then. Of course, he didn't even bother with telling you. Not even a small note.

Jokes on him though, you thought, since when he was going to come back, he'd finally get what he wanted. You weren't going to be there to bother him anymore.

Differently from him though, you did indeed left him a note. Nikolai found it a week after you had set it on his pillow. Its presence made him furrow his eyebrows since he had already been wondering where you were. You usually came out to meet him at the gates whenever he'd come back from a mission and even though you had fought before he went away, you weren't one for holding grudges. So e guessed there was something holding you.

Unfolding the paper he was met with your familiar chaotic writing.

"I don't know when you're going to find this letter but if I'm not there yet it means that I'm still at Count Kirigin's. Do not bother with writing or visiting, I'll come back when my business with him is done.

Y/n"

What in the name of every sweet loving saint???

The letter wasn't dated, no dear, no yours no nothing. Fuck. You were still mad or worse, hurt.

Asking one of the servants, he learned that you had been away for a week already. But what business could you possibly have with the Count??

Nikolai had nothing against him. Seeing Kirigin get all flustered as he tried to flirt with Zoya amused him to no end but the idea of him and you in the same house? Alone?? Unacceptable.

Not even bothering to change clothes after his long journey, Nikolai headed to the stables to ask for a well-rested horse. Luckily, Count Kirigin's estate was not too far away. A couple of hours ride.

Turns out that the Count had a lot to teach. Despite his aloof reputation and extravagant clothes, he was very observant. He lacked ambition, which was why Nikolai trusted him and had a curious way of behaving in social situations.

But Emil had been born and raised in high society. He knew how things were run even if he had no desire to be in charge of them.

So far, you'd be having a wonderful time. Emil was a wonderful host, as you remembered, but without Nikolai's presence, he was even more extravagant. He had an unexpectedly dry sense of humour and a never-ending list of jokes.

Being in the open and in the company of someone who saw y/n instead of the Queen of Ravka proved to be even more needed than you thought. You felt reinvigorated and much lighter than you'd ever been.

You had also been learning a lot. Emil had been teaching you about diplomacy. About the best ways of formulating a sentence so that you wouldn't offend anyone but still get what you wanted. He had also been talking to you about your husband's ministers. About their weaknesses and vices and what was the best way to approach them to get what you wanted.

So far, it was proving to be a wonderful decision to come here.

Whenever your mind strayed on Nikolai, you willed it to focus on something else. You didn't know if he had already come home or seen the letter. A part of you thought that if he had, he would at least write one back. But the thought felt a lot like hope and seeing as how little he saw you even before you left, you didn't think it safe to harbour it.

When Nikolai reached the estate, he was met with Kirigin's servants. They welcomed him inside and profusely apologised for the Count's absence. They told him that at this time of the day, Kirigin and his guest would usually go out on a ride but that they were also about to return.

So Nikolai waited, sitting in the most comfortable chair the Count owned, fuming at the thought that his wife had felt the need to go away and be in the company of another man.

"If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be Nikolai. You'd do well to remember it."

Your words haunted him. They were the last thing that you told him. How stupid had he been to let you walk away. How utterly careless of him to disregard you like that.

He had promised himself to truly talk to you about it once this pressing matter of state was taken care of. Apparently, he had waited too long.

But Nikolai knew that the problem was at the source. He noticed how hurt you had been when he made Zoya his first in command. Or how sad you seemed everywhere he went somewhere with her and didn't ask you to join.

He was doing so to protect you from the inevitable slander you'd be met with. He should have known though that putting you aside was going to be even worse. You were a fighter just as much as Zoya was, if not stronger.

She hid behind her veil of indifference and superiority while you had never lost that emphatic verve that made everyone love you so much. In his attempt to make you safe, he had only managed to hurt you.

You were a warrior. You had accepted the role of queen only because it was the only way for you to be with Nikolai. And instead of praising you by making you a warrior queen, he had decided to hide you away.

Well, no more.

If his mistakes had not ruined everything already, he was going to make everything better.

Lost in his musing, he didn't hear the sound of hooves approaching but he did indeed hear your laugh. It immediately brought him back to the present and a wave of ugly jealousy hit him.

He couldn't remember the last time he made you laugh.

"I shouldn't even laugh Emil, the joke was terrible," Nikolai hear you giggling from somewhere in the hall. So now he was Emil, huh.

"You know you can't resist my charm, your highness," Emil replied and Nikolai had to call on every bit of his self-control to not barge out of the room and punch him.

"Stop it, you know you can call me y/n."

Before Emil could reply, they had both made it to the sitting room where Nikolai was waiting for them. It looked like no one had warned them of his presence because Kirigin looked surprised then utterly mortified.

"Your majesty, I wasn't aware you were here. Please forgive me for making you wait."

"Don't fret Kirigin, it was an impromptu visit. I came to see how my lovely wife was doing." No matter how green he was feeling right now, he knew that Kirigin was loyal to him and the crown. Whatever was happening here wasn't one of his schemes.

"Of course! I'm going to send for some tea while you two get reunited." Kirigin quickly bowed before hurrying out of the room.

Nikolai met your eyes for the first time since you had arrived. If at first, you were surprised to see him, now you couldn't help but be a bit sceptical about this visit.

"What are you doing here?" you asked breaking the ice.

"You leave with only a few lines on where you're going and you expect me to just accept it?" He scoffed, his hands curling on the armrests of the chair.

"It's more than what you gave me," you quipped, crossing your arms on your chest.

Nikolai sighed while his gloved hands run through his hair. You were right and he knew it. He had been a horrible husband lately.

"I know you're mad at me, honey, but listen-"

"I'm not mad. You didn't want to give me what I wanted so I went looking for it somewhere else." Scrolling your shoulders, you interrupted him without meeting his eyes. A list of excuses was not what you wanted nor what you needed from him.

Nikolai didn't miss the innuendo. His jaw clenched, his hands closed in fists. But he willed himself to stay calm.

"You think Kirigin can give you something that I can't?" Nikolai was a master in diplomacy. Never did he get frustrated or angry or raised his voice, even with the most aggravating people. Here though, with you, he didn't have to keep a façade. He spoke through his teeth barely containing his anger.

"Well, so far, he's been giving me attention and interesting pointers that no, Nikolai, you refused to give me."

"So this is how you solve your problems? Running away in the countryside with Emil?" Nikolai sneered, his tone souring around Kirigin's name.

"Don't you do the same with your precious first in command?" Tired after your ride with Emil, you plopped down on the chair in front of Nikolai's. Completely ignoring his tone, you pointed out calmly. The perfect image of aloofness even when it was the last thing you were in this moment.

"That's different," he snapped trying to meet your eyes that were carefully analyzing your hands.

"Yes," you signed, "it seems that when I'm concerned everything is different."

"There's nothing between me and Zoya, y/n and you know it." Nikolai was getting more frustrated by the second. He came here to apologize, to make things right and so far, the conversation was going in the opposite directions.

"Maybe now, but you spend more time with her than you do with me. It's only a matter of time before it happens and you're sorely mistaken if you think I'll just stand by and watch."

"This is not about Zoya," he insisted but so far, he wasn't getting the reaction out of you he wanted. You seemed... resigned at the situation. And that worried Nikolai to no end.

"It never is."

"Why did you run away?" Opting for a more direct approach, he bit the bullet and went straight to the point.

"I did not run away," you scoffed in contempt at his choice of words, "I told you I wanted to do more and Emil is teaching me. Not everyone is so against spending time with me, you know." You shot him a glance.

It was the first time that you had looked at him since you had been left alone.

"I married you, y/n. How can you possibly believe I don't want to spend time with you?" As desperation slipped through his words, Nikolai leaned towards you in his seat. As if he couldn't bear the distance between you anymore. But you knew it wasn't that. You and he had been distant for months now.

"Because that's what's happening, Nikolai," you clipped back and Nikolai had to refrain from wincing at your tone.

"It's not intentional, my love, I've just been busy." His tone softened. It was a poor excuse of an apology but it was sadly the truth.

"But when I say that I want to join or help you with it you strongly oppose?" Again, there was that suspicious implication in your words that Nikolai just couldn't stand. To think that you believed he'd ever cheat on you with another woman when he had done so much, taken so many risks, to be with you.

"It's not what you think, y/n." He insisted again but immediately realized he had said the wrong thing when he saw you leaning back into your chair shaking your head.

"I don't think anything, anymore. Do whatever you want. You do your thing and I'll do mine. I won't be a bother to you anymore." Holding up your hands, you gestured as you spoke.

A beat. Nikolai froze in his seat at what you were suggesting.

"You're never a bother to me. Never." He leaned even forwards in his chair, basically only propping on it now. The desperation was now clear in his voice. He reached out to you to try and take hold of your hands but you were too distant.

"I love you more than anything in this world and if you think that I'm going to let you go without a fight, you're sorely mistaken." The steel determination of his words caught you off guard. Nikolai was strong-headed, you knew that better than anyone else, but it had been a long while since that determination had been directed to you.

"You already did." It was barely a whisper. The sad truth about your reality, the downfall of your relationship. The wavering of your voice, the pain in your eyes were enough to tip Nikolai off the edge.

"Milaya, please."He fell onto his knees in front of you. Leaning forward he reached for your hands that he could now hold. "I'm sorry. I put you in a difficult position when I married you and I tried my best to protect you."

"I don't need protecting, Nikolai, especially if it's by pushing me away."

"I was keeping you away from danger and I know that you're strong and capable but I hate to think of you as the object of public slander." His eyes darted between yours, frantic, desperate to make you understand.

"I'm Grisha, Nikolai. It's nothing new to me," you pointed out but then it hit you.

"By difficult position, you meant a Grisha Queen, didn't you?" Your eyes hardened at the implications, your hands going slack in his hold. You would have pulled them away if Nikolai didn't tighten his hold.

"Please, do not think I'm regretting my choice or I think you're not worthy of the title because that's not true." Pulling your hands, he tried to get you closer to him. "I fear that there will be repercussions among the people." And there it was, at last, the truth.

"And among your ministers," you added remembering Emil's lessons on the people at court and their role.

You scoffed when he stayed silent. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought I was doing the right thing, my love."

"So Zoya can handle it and I can't?"

"For the millionth time," he groaned, "I don't care about Zoya."

"I only care about you and I know you can handle it. I just didn't want you to. You deserve happiness and peaceful life and I know it's impossible to have in this saints' forsaken country but I can at least try." His eyes lowered in shame and his confession sent a pang through your heart. You took a moment to take in what he said.

Never had you thought about the possibility of Nikolai's distance was a form of protection. You were a soldier of the Second Army, after all. But being a queen, especially a Grisha one, was a delicate thing.

It was the first time in history that something like this happened. Nikolai's worries were not unfounded since even after the destruction of the Fold, anti-Grisha movements were spreading fast.

It was sad to see the General's attempt of assuring safety for Grisha, provoking exactly the opposite thing.

"Oh, Kolya," returning his grip, you leaned towards him, "I just want a life with you by my side."

"As do I. I want you always and forever but above all, I want you safe. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, you know it right?"

"I just ask that you tell me the truth and let me play the role I've been given."

"It's not going to be easy. People at court-"

"I know. That's why I'm here. Emil's been teaching."

"Well, no more. I'm going to take care of it from now on."

"Is this a promise or a threat?"

"Rest assured my love, the difference between the two is almost nonexistent." He flashed you a smirk and you couldn't help but smile at him. Here it was, your beloved Nikolai.

"Things are going to change, aren't they?" you murmured softly as he gently rested his forehead against yours.

"We're going to show everyone what a "power couple" is." Here was his promise. Sealed with the gentlest nudging of his nose to yours. The action made you smile and your heart soar. You missed these little moments of intimacy with him.

One of his hands came to cradle your face as the other kept hold of your left hand. Your rings softly clicked as they touched. A form of reassurance.

"I love you, y/n."

"And I you, Kolya."

You were completely lost in your little bubble, even more so when Nikolai's lips finally met yours, that you had forgotten where you were. And that there was an embarrassed Kirigin outside the door waiting for the right moment to come in with tea.

[the-spooky-alien]

Day 10 of Fictober !

Fandom : X-Files with the prompt "It's my name on the line"

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2022

-

''Sometimes I think it would be better if you stayed away from me.''

It sounds weak in the air between them. Every words shake under the weight of his guilt. His eyes never leave the road.

She wishes he would look at her.

''Why ?'' she asks, even though she only wants to prove him wrong by telling him how indispensable he became to her. But she isn't sure it's the right thing to say. He's being honest, baring himself in front of her, offering his heart for her hands to craddle and she's terrified to break it. One wrong word, and she will have to mend every shards.

Mulder shrugs, a self-deprecating smile curling his lips. ''Have you been there the past five years ?'' He refuses to look at her, but his head twitches as if he almost turned to face her. ''All you've been through, it's all because of me. If you hadn't met me, if you had left the X-Files, you would never have to suffer through all of it. You would never have to lose-''

''Mulder.'' Her voice comes out strangled. She doesn't want to think of it, of the pain and the losses. There's a hole in her chest, and at night it becomes large enough to swallow her whole. Talking about it only allows the hole to crush her bones and suffocate her lungs.

''See ?'' This time he does turn towards her, his face scrunched in bitterness. ''You can't even dare to think about it. I did this to you. It's my fault.''

''Mulder, stop the car.''

''What ?'' he chokes, clutching the wheel as if he's afraid she will take it from him.

''I said stop the car.''

He does as she says. Before he can open his mouth to ask her why they're stopping in the middle of nowhere, she turns to him and cups his face. His eyes widen comically, though he leans slightly into her touch.

''I want you to listen to my every words carefully. Can you do that ?'' Blinking at her, he nods. She sighs, taking in the warmth of his skin, and the roughness of his shaved cheeks. He's beautiful and pliant underneath her, ready to follow her lead. How can he even think she would be better without him ? ''You have no right to blame yourself for everything that happened to me. I won't allow your self-righteous guilt to take you spiralling. What I went through in our years of partnership wasn't your fault.''

He frowned, already shaking his head, prompt to protest but she shushes him.

''You keep acting like I'm here with you against my will, but you're wrong. Mulder, I may not have chosen to be assigned to the X-Files, but I'm choosing to stay by your side. This is my job, it's my name on the line, as it's yours, and I wouldn't change it for anything. You asked me once, if I knew what was waiting for me in our partnership if I would have changed a day of it, and I said I wouldn't. I was telling the truth.''

Leaning towards him, she lets her forehead rests against his. ''The people I lost-'' Her sister flashes in her mind, shadowed by the image of Emily's lying on a hospital bed, and for a moment, she can't breathe. Mulder's eyes soften, and soon, he enclasps one of her hands in his, rubbing soothing circles in her skin. She relaxes, inhaling deeply. ''The experiences I went through, my abduction, my cancer... None of them were your fault. Neither of us are responsible for what happened to us through the years. Mulder,'' she whispers, unable to keep the reverent tone out of her voice, ''you're the reason I kept going. You're the reason I kept rising out of my bed while I was burdened by the guilt of my sister's death. You're the reason I kept hope even as I was dying from my cancer. The only thing you're guilty of is saving me.''

Her words echo his, from that moment in the hallway, both so far away and so close. If she blinks, will she find herself in this car or in his hallway ?

She smiles softly at him when she sees his eyes shining, sliding one hand from his cheek to cup the back of his neck. A low sound escapes him, something between a whine and a sigh.

''I am incredibly lucky to have you with me,'' she says, prompting another choked sound out of him as he closes his eyes in a last attempt to keep an even composure. Her heart clenches. Did someone ever told him this ? ''I wouldn't want it any other way. I'm standing here with you today, and nothing will prevent me from standing with you tomorrow and the day after until we're both too old to keep chasing aliens and UFOs. I am choosing you.''

''Why ?'' he cries, opening his eyes, confusion and gratefulness swimming in the specks of green in his irises.

It would be easy to answer, to mouth the words gathering in her throat like a lump. But she can't. Because she bared herself to him, almost entirely, and this is the last thing she still has for herself.

If she's being honest, fear is what constricts her throat. If she says it to him, I love you, will the words be tainted by the distance creeping between them since Diana came back ? Since they lost the X-Files ?

If she says it, will he say it back ?

Mulder is her best friend. The only person in this world she trusts to have her back. To hold her when she crumbles. To wipe her cheeks when everything feels too much.

She can't risk this.

She just can't.

Mulder is still watching her, but his face is more tender, softer, and she knows he understands. They don't need words. It's in the silence, nestled between the beats of their hearts.

His grip on her hand tightens.

After a while, they get back on the road, because that's what they always do. They only get a few moments of respite here and there, before hearing the call of the road again.

Through it all, their hands stay clasped between them.

[gaiuswrites]

Original Sin | Darksaber!Din

Pairing: Dark!Din x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ older for the love of all things holy)

Word count: 3.4k~

Summary: Things change after Grogu leaves. People change. No one is exempt.

Warnings/tags: DUB CON?¿, masturbation (m and f), inappopriate use of darksaber, sex toy (...), Dark!Din, Dom!Din, sacrilegious references, really dark shit, i am so sorry

Update: This should go without saying, but as it turns out, it’s in need of being said: every word written in this fic is my own; any likeness to any other work is coincidence, regardless of how bizarre. I don’t mean to offend anyone or raise suspicion, as I am certainly not a plagiarist (literally couldn’t be even if I tried: I am equal parts too incompetent, too busy, and too lazy to steal from someone else. Fellow writers can attest, I’m an absolute garbage reader and fall behind on almost everyone’s work. There’s an embarrassing amount I haven’t read.) Please reach out to me personally if you have any concerns. I respect everyone here like you wouldn’t believe. Sending love to you all. Be well. ✨

Notes: When I go to hell (it really is only a matter of timing, and not so much a question of if anymore), this fic will rank number one on the list of reasons why I’m sent to my eternal timeout. This... I'm twisted. I have issues. God help us. Seriously, this is basically a horror show. I bow down to the Darksaber!Din content creators who came before me, and the original artwork that inspired me to write this— thank you for lighting this (descending, dirty) path. I HAVE TAGGED A FEW PEOPLE HERE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INTERESTED but really— REALLY— there’s absolutely no pressure. Cheers friends x ( gif credit: @skyshipper )

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

The days stretch long like morning yawns—hours passing on creaky bones, slow and congealed inside the metal womb of the Crest.

It wasn’t always this way.

They used to be filled with pitter pattering— with wily antics and vanishing acts that could baffle even the most veteran of illusionists— with prying frogs from tiny, green hands and giggling as blocks and baubles floated through the hull. Laughter. There used to be laughter here.

But that was then. The child is gone now. The Razor Crest is quiet.

Time fills itself like this; there’s little for you to do now but wait. Wait for the dusk to blur into the dawn. Wait for your food to cook. Wait for the shower to warm. Wait for the parts you ordered to arrive at the port. Wait for Din to come back—to come home.

Home. You used to be so certain—you’d bite the head off anyone who questioned otherwise— but you’re not so sure this is home anymore. Its not that anything has changed. No, the galley, the carbonite pods, the cockpit, the deck—it’s all still here. The scuffed walls, the durasteel, the littered crates and packed arsenal. But—

It’s different. It feels different. Something is...

off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. Its intangible, but it’s everywhere—like gas. Invisible to the naked eye, but encircling you all the same. Choking you.

Killing you.

There’s no good explanation for it. You feel eyes on you when there are none. You find yourself glancing over your shoulder, knowing full well you are alone. Something keeps snagging you, pulling at an unseen thread. The corners of your peripherals tugging at you. Beckoning.

Was that a shadow? No.

Is someone there? It’s just you.

There is a tickle at your ear - a constant - dancing along the shell of it. Wherever you go, it follows.

Home home home. It only feels like home when Din is there, safe and sound at your side. But even then, even Din—in all of his plated exterior—even Din has succumbed. Even Din has

changed.

The truth is, Grogu left and a part of Din left with him. There’s less of him now— more, too: there’s less where it matters, and there’s more where there shouldn’t be.

You don’t remember when it started—when he first disappeared. When the spark in him died, and he was reignited anew.

When this Other became.

On multiple occasions you’ve caught him murmuring into the bellied dark of the Crest with a bent spine, hunched over himself as if he’s shrinking—enveloping in in in as far as the beskar along his chest will allow him to cave. You can never pick up what he mutters, but you catch the sounds of his teeth and lips brushing together, hissing. It’s not Basic; you’d recognize it if it were. You don’t think its Mando’a either. It’s too sharp— too vile. There’s none of his language’s elegance in it.

“Did you say something?” You asked once, poking your head around the doorway, eyes resting on the shine of his helmet.

A beat—and slowly, he unfurled, rearing to his full height and like a sentinel he swiveled, pivoting to face you.

“No.”

Your throat bobbed. “Oh, I-I thought I heard-”

“Come here, mesh’la.”

And you did. You always do.

The darksaber appeared on his belt one day, shortly after the child went away. It came, only once, and there it stays. Indistinguishable - inseparable - there is no dismembering the two. It accompanies him in all things; when he pilots, when he hunts, when he eats. It sleeps by him.

By you, too.

Din has always been stoic—of scant words and physical timing—but now he is a golem. A silent, shrouded figure. His Creed is broken, and you wonder maybe - briefly - if Din is broken as well. He is never unkind to you. He is never threatening. But he is never him. His eyes— the oaky comfort you once found in them— have blackened. He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man.

And within that pit he has born rage. Immaculately, it has sprung from him as woman did by Adam’s rib. Like mold growing upon stale fruit does he have this—this wrath. It crept through him. It stalked along his soft flesh— his tawny hide—and it waited; patient, there in the shadows, it waited for him. Waited for him to turn his back, to close his eyes and drop his guard— leeway, an entrance— as to slip in undetected.

To inhabit.

The virtue and love that once thrummed within the heart of him has burned away. Charred. Only this of him remains; this insatiable lust— for blood sport, for the promise of split knuckles and fractured bone, for you.

For all of you.

Now, Din goes out on bounties like he needs it—like it’s oxygen. He lives off it. He’s sustained by the rush, by the adrenaline laced chemicals pumping through his arteries. He’s gone for days and weeks on end and when he returns, he fucks you like he’s been starved. Out in the wilderness without a morsel to eat, he devours you. He’s ravenous as he tears his way across your body—all too pliant for him, all too willing—letting him feast on the nectar dripping from your heat.

You can feel it in his foot steps as he storms the ship, the bassy echo of it. You can see it in the pitch of his visor. You can feel it in his cock as he slams into you, night after night after night—ceaselessly. Tirelessly. Unnaturally. The number of orgasms he wrings out of you is countless—his need so incurable, you have to fight to stay above it all; you have to war against your urge to slip away completely.

Din is one grey choice - one hair trigger - from coming undone.

And you should be scared. You should be terrified—he should terrify you. Like scalding water, you should flinch away at the mere sight of him—at the warning steam that rises from his pauldrons. This predator, unhinged and off his leash—a great, crushing beast at which you are at the mercy of.

But— you aren’t.

You couldn’t place it at first: the gnawing. The gnawing at your insides like maggots festering upon a grizzled carcass hanging limp at a wet market. You couldn’t name the tremor in your gut. You gave it epithets as best you could, you gave it placeholders - fear, worry, intrigue - all until one day it spilled. One day it seeped past the tremble of your stomach and sank lower, lower,

lower.

It settled in your cunt—the gnawing. And you named it Want.

You want him. You want this—you’re addicted to it. This sin like led-lined velvet, you want to roll in it until it poisons you, until you’re smothered with it, just like it’s smothering you now— blanketing you as you mewl naked in your bed, knees knocked together. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you frantically work circles into your clit with the all consuming thought of him: his teeth at your shoulders, his hand around your windpipe.

You’re nearing your finish, the promise of that tight coil unraveling there - there - right before you. You’re so enrapt in it—in this dizzying, wanton act—you don’t register the ramp lowering. You don’t hear the carbonite chamber whir, his quarry freezing over, or his foot falls sounding their way to your bunk.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You gasp, frightened eyelids wrenching open as his baritone timbre crackles through the hull. The Mandalorian stands there, backlit by the glow from the galley and he looms—expressionless. Haunting. You blink at him rapidly, batting away the desire that’s glazed over your eyes.

“Y-You’re back,” you stutter lamely. You try to smile. You try to distract him. “I uhm, I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you wouldn’t be back until, u-until..."

Your excuses fade, mouth parched dry. The film of his visor gives you nothing. He is unknowable, but you feel it - sense it - that energy—unbridled and rippling off of him in sick, suffocating waves.

“I’ll ask you again,” Din starts.

“What-" he steps towards you, darksaber hanging heavy at his hip, “do you think-" you shimmy up your cot, shoulder blades digging into the steel sidings, “you’re doing?”

Your heart thunders against your chest, beating until you’re sure it’ll burst.

“I’m-"

I’m sorry you almost say, and you have to force yourself to gulp down the apology. You know he doesn’t want it, and he knows you wouldn’t mean it even if you offered it to him.

Your brow wavers. “I-"

He rips away the sheet you had drawn up over you and reflexively you jerk back, revealing the gloss on your fingers and the patch of hair above your mound, shimmering shamefully—exposing you, mocking you under the dim lights.

“What’s this?” he asks, and fuck he’s patronizing you. He’s smirking—you don’t have to see it, you can hear it in the curving lilt of his voice as he drinks in the sight of your very obvious indiscretion, laid bare before him. You can’t bring yourself to answer him—you can hardly look at him—and you bristle, hair on your arm prickling up.

“You fuck yourself speechless, little one?”

Your cunt throbs, burning and contracting around the orgasm that was snatched away from you and fuck, you’re drowning in him. Din is tar—he’s an oil slick, and you’re plummeting through it—gasping for air, for the surface, for sunlight. He’s everywhere—his broad frame, his voice, his scent like copper and smoke. You can barely breathe through the thick of him.

“Answer me,” he growls, leather croaking at the clench of his fist.

“Yes—yes,” you utter, proceeding with honesty, no matter how pathetic. “I missed you,” you squeak out.

Din cocks his head, a smug look scowled onto his visor. “You missed me?” he purrs through a sneer and you nod, precious and small, worrying the inside of your lip.

He sinks one leg and then the other onto your bedroll, just between your parted feet, kneeling before you. The flimsy spring mattress squeals under his weight—all of that armor, all of that boiling soot trapped within him.

“How much?”

For a moment, you must look confused. Puzzled. Your eyebrows furrow as Din unclips the saber from his belt, rolling it over in his hand. You rake your gaze up from it, dilated pupils landing on the unforgiving black panel there.

“You claim you missed me. Prove it.”

Your cunt bottoms out.

He crouches over you, tracing along your inner thighs with it's steel shaft and you bury your fists into the cot. You don't know which to look at: Din or the rod in his hand. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you trust me.”

Fuck, it feels like you’re going to rattle apart. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t humming—isn’t seizing up wild. “I-I trust you,” you mouth softly. And you do, whether you should or not—you trust him with your life, to make or ruin.

“Fuck, you’re wet mesh'la,” he appraises darkly, leaning in to run a leathered digit through your seam, parting your curls. Your legs twitch, heels of your feet digging into the bed. “So ready for me. So eager."

Your eyes dance frenetically down to the handle and back up to him as he aligns the saber with your pussy. The blunt end of it touches your lips and you shudder, instinctually fidgeting away from it. Din splays his hand on your knee, anchoring you in place. “Shh,” he coos, rubbing a thumb soothingly into your skin. It doesn’t feel sweet. It feels sickly, cloying— like arsenic.

You don’t dare breathe as he prods the shaft into you, inch by terrible inch. It doesn’t matter how slicked and wet you are from touching yourself, your walls strangle the foreign intrusion. Your body resists.

“Fuck,” you sob. Your throat, your pussy, all of it— it’s all compacted. It feels so fucking tight, both words and air fighting to get out and in all at once—everything inside you constricting.

“Show me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “Show me how much you missed me.” He drags his gloved digit over your clit, pressing down onto it until you see stars, fizzing in front of your vision. “I know you can take it, sweet girl. Be good and show me.”

Be good. Be good for him. Be his only vice.

He continues to swirl at your bundle of nerves and you’re nearly thrashing with it— with all of this— hair fanned and mussed against the pillow as you writhe, swallowing his saber to the hilt. Fuck, you’re so full. Maker, you’re stuffed with it; with the cold, uneven edges, the ridges woven into the grip of it— and he slowly - tortuously - delves the handle in and out of you, hitting against your cervix with every thrust.

You can only mumble. Your lips have gone slack, your mind is cavernous. All you can do is quiver and beg— beg for release. Beg for it to end.

Beg for more.

“Oh gods, oh g- Maker, please—”

Your bleary eyes shoot open as you’re silenced by the grip of his gloved hand.

“No.” Din pinches your jaw in the web of his palm, fingertips dimpling your cheeks. “No, your God isn’t here,” he seethes, low and deadly, graphite venom dripping from his lips. “Pray to me.”

Fuck.

Trembling, your lips pucker ugly and sloppy as you babble uselessly in his stony grasp, chin crinkling with a whimper. “D-Din.”

He inhales sharply, mouth snaking into a wicked grin behind his helm. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

He’s deboning you as he would a fish. Practiced, he plucks you into messy pieces—gutting you through your open maw. His ministrations are crawled. They’re slothed and carnal with arrogance and pride and it’s not enough—its all together too much, but still—it’s not enough. You’re hungry. You paw at him, scraping over his breastplate.

“Din, please—more," you gasp feverishly, eyes blown wide.

A blip of static huffs through his modulator. “You want more, you filthy little thing?” He gives you another squeeze, indenting scorch marks into your face.

You nod—you try to, his grasp is too firm, rooting your neck to still. “Yes.”

Din groans, all but obliging you as he begins to fuck you harder, pistoning through you as he thumbs your nub with his rough pad.

“Din-”

You’re whining now, tinny and depraved. It’s wrong. Every part, every second of this, is wrong. Immoral. But you can’t stop the way your body convulses at his every touch—you can’t stop the heat roiling in your core.

“Din, Din baby- fuck fuck fuck-”

It’s like he’s trying to split you in two—all of you. Your pussy, your mind, your soul—he’s bisecting you. Divvying you up to bits of nothing. It’s only then that horrid realization occurs to you, winding through your addled haze as he fucks you deep and splintering: you’ll never be whole again.

And scarier still—you don’t think you want to be.

No, you want to be these loathsome shards. You want to be broken glass. You want to draw blood.

You want to be possessed by him.

“Fuck yourself,” he pants, his cock straining violently against his trousers, begging for relief. “Be good and fuck yourself. Let me watch.”

Be good be good be good

He leaves your clit and you whimper at the loss. Your face is stained with tears. The salty trails cascade down to mingle into your hair, into the sheets. You’re vibrating, but you do as he says and you reach down, recoiling when you touch the chilled metal tip. Tentatively, you pad along it, settling on the end that’s peeking out from you.

A pained sound rumbles through Din as you wrap your fist around the saber, and your eyes flit up to meet his, hidden somewhere behind his helm. Hurriedly he unbuttons his pants in a flourish and removes himself from his constraints. He’s pulsing and proud, flexing up against his stomach, the veins choked to bulge along the angry, silken shaft of him.

Finally, you begin to move the hilt—finding an aching, undulating rhythm and he can’t fucking take it. He rips his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor.

“Din,” your pray, “Din, I think I’m going to-”

You’re wrecked – fried like a livewire– as you look for him, as you search and search—for that warmth, for a trace of him left there. The Din you knew, the Din you agreed to fly with all those months ago, the Din you love. You think you see it sometimes—in the slant of his mouth, the bridge of his nose— but here, now, he is gone.

He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man, and you want nothing more than to fall. Standing on the ledge of him, staring down into the abyss—you want this. You want to fall. You want to jump.

“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me, sweet girl— tell me.” He’s fucking his fist raw, humping into his palm as desperate as an animal.

“I’m yours,” you mewl. Furiously rubbing your clit with one hand and spearing yourself on the rod of his saber with the other, your hips buck and spasm. You snap. A blinding light sears through you, ricocheting off every scrap of muscle and tendon sewed up in your body. “Just for you,” you cry, “I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—”

Your ragged sobs mix with the lewd slaps of skin as Din pumps himself, hot ropes of his release spitting onto you— painting your pussy, the divot of your navel, coating along the slope of your tummy.

“Look at you—fucking, look at you,” he moans throatily, easing through his rough strokes as he softens.

Your chest is heaving and you feel dumb, empty—like a puppet, arms and legs moving on phantom strings. Din removes the handle from you with a wet squelch; a viscous strand of your juices clings on, obscenely connecting your pussy to the base of it, and you rasp—the wind punched out of you with its gaping absence. You gush. It dribbles out the slit of you, leaking past your abused hole and soaking into the bedroll.

When he unsheathed the saber from your scabbard, he took a part of you with it. You’re so fucked out—you’re practically a parsec away— it went unnoticed.

Undetected.

It brushed past you. You didn’t feel it—you didn’t recognize the whisper that has slithered in in it’s place, nestling within your swollen folds.

Breeding there.

“Beautiful,” Din murmurs, placing it on the mattress beside your head, the chrome of it gleaming with your slick. He bows his head to lick a path up your cunt, laving you clean as he climbs higher and higher, tonguing off his seed from your stippled skin. “Fucking beautiful, mesh’la,” he growls. “Mine—all fucking mine.”

You’ve gone heavy. You’re too heavy to keep your eyes open—you’ve been hollowed out and you’ve got nothing keeping you tethered here. You start slipping under in slow motion—intervals between languid blinks lasting longer and longer. You’re spooled in a knot of tangled limbs with Din’s mouth, fervent and needy, flaying you open as he sees fit— with his hot mouth and teeth, suckling your breasts, biting at your nipples and bruising your pretty neck.

It’s not long before you hear it again, as you have before— as you always do: the faint caressing of speech, of lips forming language you cannot understand—made indecipherable in your strung out high.

“D’you say something?” you mumble, half conscious—half dreaming.

Din laps a long stripe up your throat, his stubble sanding your skin. “No.”

You sigh, breathy and girlish, as his fingers find your mound, dipping into you once again. He makes you cum twice more that evening. You barely have the strength to watch him do it.

/

Finally, when he’s satisfied—when he’s spent with driving you mad, making you rile— he grants you respite. He permits it – generous, charitable - and you sleep like the dead, soundly through the night until—

until you don’t.

Eyes. You feel them somewhere— there are eyes on you. You stir, stuttering in your sleep to squirm in the dark. You don’t know what you’re listening to at first. It’s a sound of some kind, a noise. There is a hiss—

A frigid hand seizes around the bloody organ pulsing in your ribcage.

No, not a hiss—it’s a voice. It’s— no-

You pat around for Din beside you but he’s gone—he’s long gone and his vacant spot has grown cold without him—and your nails dig into the sheets, desperately clawing into the fabric.

Inside you.

The voice, the sharp hush of it—it’s inside you. It speaks from inside your own mind, its forked tongue fluttering against your ear.

‘Wake up, sweet girl.’

/

Tags (IM SO SORRY): @djarinsbeskar @pedros-mustache @krissology @keeper0fthestars @read-and-rec

[wolferine]

Unforgivable - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death

Word count: 2372

Part 1

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife

AN: Please read to the end before you come after me. :)

Everything is a blur. The last thing you remember is cradling Natasha in your lap and seeing the pain of betrayal in her eyes. You did this to her. You couldn’t control your anger and now she had a bullet—shot out of your gun—in her back. You hurt her and there was no way you could ever forgive yourself for that. 

You finally let Tony get close enough to take care of her, because you realized you don’t deserve her anymore. 

You run away from the Avengers Tower, your leg slowing you down, but you don’t care. Each step feels like a knife rubbing against your bone, but even that’s not enough to distract you from the pain in your chest. It feels like someone has torn you open, ripped your heart out of your ribcage, and thrown it into a bonfire.

But you have no one to blame than yourself.

Tears stream down your face as you stumble through the streets, eventually finding some privacy in a nearby forest. Your sobs echo through the trees as you crawl hand over hand, your uniform shredding open on bushes and branches. The trickle of a creek calls to you and you dunk your bloody hands in the freezing water, desperate to wash yourself of your failures.

You can’t believe what you’ve done.

The scene of Natasha falling to the floor plays over and over in your head and you would pay anything to unsee it. You curl into a ball, wiping your nose on your knees. You deserve all the pain and misery for your actions. You’re so caught up in your head, thinking about all the ways you can punish yourself, that you don’t notice the group of men sneaking up on you from behind.

“Over there! Over there!” 

“By the creek, see?”

“Wait—that’s an Avenger?”

“Looks like someone had a bad day.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

At the sound of your name, you finally lift your head, only for the butt of a shotgun to slam into your face. Your nose breaks and blood fills your mouth. You turn away, not even interested in protecting yourself. If they killed you, you would thank them.

“Aw, come on. At least give us a reaction,” someone says.

The shotgun butt smashes against the back of your head and you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked your skull. Someone kicks your leg where you were shot, and you bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Well, this is anti-climactic.”

“Hey, if it makes our job easier, I’m not gonna complain.”

“I still think Hammer’s weird for wanting Y/N over the other Avengers.”

“Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be picky—”

“Stop standing around and get to it!” someone yells. 

The men surround you, punching and kicking every inch of you. The bulletproof vest of your uniform does little to lessen the impact of their blows. You feel bruises forming along your ribs and your rattling teeth bite your lips bloody. It doesn’t take long for you to black out and the peace is blissful.

***********************************************************************

Sometime later—you have no idea how long—you jolt awake, finding yourself strapped to a metal chair in the middle of a dark, concrete room. A man in glasses and a gray suit with white gloves stands in front of you. 

“Hello, I’m Justin Hammer,” he says, offering a hand, then withdrawing when he realizes your arms are tied to the chair. “Sorry, force of habit.”

You stare at him. Your tongue pokes around the inside of your mouth and you notice some teeth are missing. There is a painful crick in your neck every time you try moving your head and every breath you take feels like a razor blade scraping the inside of your lungs.

“You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m very familiar with you and your work with the Avengers. But the reason I have you here today is to talk about this man.” Hammer pulls out a folded photograph from his pocket and shows it to you.

It’s Tony Stark, but you have no desire to even think of that man anymore.

“Your best friend, right?” Hammer teases and you curl your lip at him. “What’s wrong? He’s the one who got you a spot on the team, isn’t he?” You look away from him. “I heard what he did to your girl,” he continues. “That must’ve felt like the betrayal of the century.”

“What?” you ask, confused as to what he’s referring to.

“I heard about what happened at the Avengers Tower. So tragic.” Hammer crumples Tony’s photograph and drops it on the floor. “Romanoff didn’t deserve that.”

“W-What are you talking about? Is she okay?” Your bottom lip quivers in fear.

Hammer kneels in front of you. “She’s dead, Y/N.”

“No, no…” You feel like he’s punched you right through the chest. “T-That’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.” Hammer stands again.

“How do you even know what happened at the Tower?” Given its security, there was no way news like that reached the public. At least not the truth of it. Maybe Hammer was just trying to mess with you.

Hammer motions behind him and a blonde woman steps forward from the shadows. Her face jolts your memory, but you don’t remember exactly where from.

“Recognize her?” Hammer asks. “She actually works for me, but she’s been pretending to be a SHIELD agent for some time now. She was right outside the door when your little spat with Stark went down.” Your mind flashes back to when you returned from the mission with Natasha. On your way to the private Avengers’ quarters, you remember passing the same blonde woman right outside the door.

“She heard everything that happened inside,” Hammer says as the blonde woman retreats into the darkness again.

“N-Natasha’s…She’s…She’s not dead,” you stammer.

Hammer shakes his head. “She went into surgery after Stark shot her, but due to the placement of the bullet, there were some complications and she coded on the table. They couldn’t revive her. That part was all over the news.”

You feel so sick you want to vomit. “I…I killed her?”

“No. You didn’t kill her. Tony Stark killed her.”

You start gasping for air, only worsening the pain in your chest. “No—But—He—I’m the one who pulled the trigger—”

“But you weren’t aiming for her. You were aiming for Stark, and he’s the one who deflected the bullet into her,” Hammer says. “He’s also the one who sent you two on that mission to begin with, wasn’t he? The reason you lost your cool and pulled your gun out? Think, Y/N. All of this is Stark’s fault.”

But the sadness of thinking you’ve killed Natasha is too overwhelming. You can’t focus on anything but your own guilt. You will burn in hell for this and you won’t even mind.

“Listen to me, Y/N!” Hammer snaps, striking you across the face. His rings cut into your cheek and blood fills your mouth. “I hate Stark just as much as you do. He’s been my business rival for years and I need someone to help me take him down. Who better than you, a former friend of his, who knows how to hit him where it hurts?”

You start crying at the thought of having to exist in a world without Natasha Romanoff.

Hammer tries getting your attention by slapping you again, but you’re unresponsive. You’re too lost in your grief to process anything he’s saying, and eventually he gives up, promising to come back another time to reveal his master plan to you.

It takes an entire month before he can even communicate with you. Your depression is all-consuming and their threats on your life have no effect. They’re startled to learn you actually enjoy the torture because you believe you deserve it after what you did to Natasha. But Hammer is relentless and finally figures out how to manipulate you into his bidding.

Six months after your capture and the accident, you finally crack. Your agony and pain turns into pure rage and hatred for Tony Stark. You can’t bring Natasha back, but you can get revenge on the man who took her life. After training with Hammer’s technology, which is almost as advanced as Tony’s, you’re deemed ready to be let out in the real world. Hammer personally asks for your help to kill Tony Stark, and it’s an offer you accept gladly.

***********************************************************************

Three months after the accident…

Natasha wakes up and looks to her right, disappointed to see the bed still empty. She’s tricked herself into believing that one day you’ll show up, ready to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off. But nothing has been the same since you left.

She sits up and turns the lights on. She scoots to the edge of the bed and carefully lifts her body into the wheelchair parked there.

The bullet had struck her lumbar spine, shattering her L1 vertebrae and paralyzing her from the waist down. Tony requested help from the best doctors he knew, but even the greatest modern advancements couldn’t repair her spine. He had personally designed her wheelchair, and she knows she should be grateful to still be alive, but she’s never felt so helpless and alone. 

After the accident, you ran off and no one could locate you. Secretly, she held onto the hope you would return one day, but she knows your guilt and shame are keeping you away. She wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she doesn’t hate you, but you’re not even giving her that chance.

Tony made the public announcement that Black Widow had retired from the Avengers. No one knew she had been paralyzed, nor that you had unofficially resigned from the team. Without you, without Black Widow, Natasha didn’t know who she was anymore.

She leaves her bedroom and goes into the kitchen. Tony arranged most of the food and dishes down to her new height but she feels like she’ll never adjust to not being able to stand anymore. She locates a bowl and a box of cereal and rolls over to the table. She chokes down dry Cheerios and pours her second bowlful when Tony walks in.

“Thank God you’re finally up,” he says. “When you’re done, I have something to show you.”

“Y/N?” She perks up.

“Uh…no…”

Natasha knows Tony blames himself just as much as she does for her accident, but it wasn’t his fault either. She wrestled between anger and guilt, sometimes blaming you, sometimes blaming him. But in the end, it’s easier to blame herself. She should have stopped you the moment you took out your gun, regardless of whether or not you pushed her. But she got so caught up in the moment she froze, and now she was paralyzed and you were gone.

“Just come down to my workshop, okay?” Tony disappears again.

With nothing better to do, Natasha takes the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. She doesn’t visit often, but when she does, she’s always impressed by his latest inventions and gadgets. She rolls down the aisle of old Iron Man suits displayed in glass cases, admiring the subtle differences in each one.

“Where are you, Tony?” she calls.

“Over here!” He waves her down from the other end. “I’ve been working on this for a while, and I know it’s a little premature, but I couldn’t help myself.” Tony stands next to another Iron Man suit, but it doesn’t quite look like it will fit him.

The suit is curved to fit a woman, black and red instead of Tony’s iconic red and gold. Natasha sees a red hourglass emblazoned on the belt buckle.

“What…What is this, Tony?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

“It’s an Iron Widow suit,” he says. “Or, whatever you want to call it. You’ll have to get in and test it out for yourself, but it’ll allow you to walk again and…be an Avenger again.”

Natasha wishes she could throw herself into his arms, but pulls him down to her level instead. “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her face. She never thought she would be able to serve as an Avenger again, but she’ll take the opportunity if it means taking her mind off recent events.

“Ready to try it out?” Tony presses a button on the side of the suit and the suit opens up, bending into a crouched position so Natasha can get in it like a chair.

 She smiles for the first time since the accident.

 “I am.”

***********************************************************************

Six months after the accident…

Natasha is in the gym, lifting dumbbells on a bench when Tony walks in. Although she now has a legitimate excuse for skipping leg day for the rest of her life, she now has to make sure her upper body is twice as strong to make up for it.

“Look who decided to slide through my DMs this morning,” Tony says, shoving his phone in her face.

Midnight. Central Park Carousel. Come alone.

The text was from you.

“Oh, my God,” Natasha says, setting the weights down. You haven’t even texted her since the accident, and she’s a little hurt you didn’t reach out to her first. “What’s this about?”

“I have no idea.” Tony shrugs. “I know it says for me to go alone, but since it’s from Y/N, I wanted to ask if you wanted to tag along.”

“Of course.” In a way, Natasha feels like the text is really meant for her. Central Park was where you had asked her to be your girlfriend. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’ll need you to be on your A-game. We have no idea what Y/N’s been up to these past six months. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what we find,” Tony says.

Natasha has spent countless nights wondering where you’ve been and what you’re doing. Now she has the chance to find out. “It’s going to be okay, Tony,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Just so you know, I’m praying more for you than me right now.”

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: I never went to medical school, so forgive my medical inaccuracies.

[howtobangyourmonster]

TomTom the Minotaur, Pt. 1

Minotaur man with human woman, vaginal fingering

When attempting to traverse an eldritch forest hell bent on leading you astray, it's vital to hire a guide with an excellent sense of direction. It's less vital that he be charming and sexy, but it sure helps pass the time.

“Worth every penny.” That's what his reviews say.

Seeing him in person, I feel less anxious about the journey ahead. Tall and broad, his skin a gorgeous dark brown speckled over in white freckles like stars, horns gleaming and wickedly curved and broad as his shoulders. He'd be intimidating if it wasn't for the kindness of his face. He's damn handsome, but that's not why I hired him. Well, not the only reason.

His mouth curves in an easy smile as I approach. He looks down at me as he finishes rolling the sleeves of his plaid button-down up, revealing the sculpted muscles of his massive forearms. “You must be Stella.”

I shake his hand, my own completely swallowed in his, though his grip is gentle and warm. “Yes, and you're Tom?”

“Yes, ma'am. Your email said this is your first time crossing the Briarwood?” he asks, friendly brown eyes crinkled at the corners in polite curiosity.

“It is, and I'm pretty nervous about it actually.” I admit.

“Understandable, it's a very disorienting place, especially for humans. I'll get you through it, don't you worry. My family has been guiding people through for generations, I practically grew up in there. I've never lost a traveler.”

His confidence is earned; he's legendary even among guides and has the rating to prove it on NaviGate. His services have the price tag to match. Too many people try to cross on their own, or turn to disreputable-but-cheap “guides” who most likely ditch their charges and pocket the money. Disappearances are commonplace. I don't want that to be me.

“I'm counting on your reputation's accuracy, TomTom.” I smirk.

“Are they still calling me that?” he grimaces, one hand rubbing the back of his neck(and putting his glorious biceps on display). “Embarrassing nicknames aside, I don't want you to worry. I'm taking you the safest way though the woods. It's the slowest route, but we won't run into trouble. Should be very boring.”

“Boring is good! I've got all my gear,” I gesture with my head to the large camping backpack I'm sporting. “I'm trying to just think of it as a long camping trip.”

“That's good, that's basically what it is. We're not getting anywhere near any settlements or dens in there, we shouldn't see anyone else the whole time. I hope you brought something to keep you entertained.”

“I've got a bunch of digital books and podcasts downloaded, and a solar battery. And a couple print books.”

“Good call, sometimes the sun doesn't break through the canopy for a few days.” Tom hefts his own massive pack onto his back, hooking his thumbs into the straps. “Shall we?”

I follow him as we take our first steps onto the trailhead that, with his help, should deliver me safely through the Briarwoods, one month from now.

“I kinda expected it to be more...creepy in here.” I say.

Tom chuckles. “Yeah, I hear that a lot. I think it would actually be less sinister if it did look more creepy and dark and gloomy. It's not just that the path shifts and changes, it's that the forest tries to distract you as well as disorient. Like...look up ahead there.”

He points off to the left, up along the trail, to a meadow of golden grass waving in a gentle breeze. The edges of the meadow disappear into a grove of quaking aspen trees, leaves shimmering like golden coins as they catch the light. Suddenly, the whisper of wings reaches me as hundreds of iridescent green butterflies rise from the meadow in a dazzling display of color.

“...Wow.” I breathe.

“Yeah. It's pretty. And absolutely a trap. You set one foot in there, you'll be asleep in seconds.”

I peek into the grass as we pass the meadow, making sure to keep my feet well within the trail. I see bones poking out of the dark earth, and a sunbleached skull staring eyeless at the sky. With a shudder, I turn back to Tom.

The first week of our journey is pretty straightforward. He points out the forest's traps and lures to me. After one incident where I nearly wandered off, following some windswept notes of birdsong(“That wasn't a bird...” he warns), Tom takes to holding my hand as we walk through particularly dangerous stretches of the trail. I certainly don't mind. At night he sleeps in front of the entrance to our shared tent, to keep me from wandering off without waking him. When it happens, he turns me back to my sleeping bag and gently hushes me until I lay back down and sleep. And then teases me mercilessly in the morning.

“If you're so keen on a night stroll, just wake me up, I'd be happy to keep you company.” he winks.

“It's not my fault! It's the damn sirens!” I laugh.

“They're not really sirens.” Tom says. “It's just the forest trying to trick you.”

We're sharing a meal during a lunch rest in a rather lovely spot next to a river. The sun has actually made an appearance today, so I have my solar charger out.

“What's the scariest thing you've ever encountered in the forest?” I ask.

Tom is very still for a while, brow furrowed as he considers his answer. “I think...the scariest times are when the forest has gotten to know you, and it knows what you're afraid of, and it uses that against you.”

He says this very quietly, with the manner of someone who speaks from experience. I don't pry further.

The river is safe, he says, and clear. We take the opportunity to wash clothes and refill canteens.

“Do we have to get back on the trail, or can I wash? I feel pretty grimy...”

“You set the pace, Stella, I'm just here to keep you out of trouble.” he grins. “I wouldn't mind getting clean either. You go ahead first, I'll keep my back to the water, and you just keep talking to me so I know you're alright.”

“Such a gentleman, respecting my modesty.” I tease. I peel off my trail clothes from that morning and give them a quick wash, hanging them up to dry on the line with the other clothes, while I chat with Tom's back. The water is cold and bracing, but invigorating.

“It'll be a few days before we come across another safe water source.” Tom says. “There's a spring we should run into tomorrow but you can absolutely not touch it.”

I drag my nails through my hair, raking the dirt and debris out of it before rinsing it in the river. “Is it cursed? Haunted?”

“It's a mouth.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I dry off with the superabsorbent camping towel I bought for this trip, slip on my pajama shorts and a tshirt, and join Tom where he sits on a log. “Your turn!”

Tom stands and steps back over the log toward the river. I keep my back to him as he strips off his shirt, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I glance back over my shoulder. He bends down to take off his boots, and I take in the sight of his impressive backside straining the seams of his jeans. I'm lost in daydreams when he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of the jeans and pushes them down around his hips, taking his briefs with them. The lines of muscle in his back, the play of light and shadow over the planes and curves of his body are stunning. He bends down to remove the clothes and catches me staring, doing a double-take at my expression.

“Hey, what about my modesty?” he asks with a cheeky grin, one eyebrow lifted in challenge.

I whip my head back around, cheeks burning. “I'm sorry, that was...so inappropriate of me!”

He laughs, voice like warm caramel. “Minotaurs bathe communally, I'm not shy.”

I keep my eyes focused on my shoes. “I went to a minotaur-owned bathhouse in Alberta with my mom once.”

I cringe. Why did I feel the need to say that?

“Yeah? What did you think?” he asks.

“It was nice, I really loved the olive oil soaps.”

“I have some in my pack, can you fish one out for me?”

My mind short-circuits for a second. I dig through the pockets of Tom's pack until I find one of the small bars. When I turn to face Tom, my mouth goes dry.

He's standing hip-deep in the river, sunlight reflecting off the water and making his rich sable coat glisten. His head is tipped back, arms up as he arches his back, and it's obvious he's putting on a show for me. So I indulge myself, and let my eyes trail over his biceps, his horns, the thick corded muscles of his neck, rivulets of water dripping down his body. The firm planes of his abs ripple under the smooth skin that replaces the coat of his shoulders and back. Those white starry freckles splash here, too, and I follow their trail down to a thicker nest of hair where his hips meet the water.

When I manage to drag my eyes back up to his face, he's watching me with amusement.

“I love the way your skin pinks like that when you're embarrassed.” his voice is a deep rumble. He tips his head down to look at me, the gold rings in his ears and nose sparkling at me. “Or...maybe you're turned on, not embarrassed at all.”

Feeling bold, I wade into the river, not caring that my shorts and tee are now soaked and clinging to my skin. From the way Tom is staring, he doesn't care either. I hold out the soap.

“Did you need this?”

“Thanks.” he plucks the soap from my hand, lathers it up, and begins working the suds over his chest, never breaking eye contact. “Your clothes are all wet, Stella. You should hang them up to dry.”

I consider the implications for a moment, before deliberately turning away and wading back to the shore, acutely aware of my clothes clinging to the curves of my ass, my breasts. I peel them off, bending at the waist with my ass directed Tom's way, and I'm rewarded with his deep rumble of approval. Straightening, I wring the clothes out and hang them on the line, glancing over my shoulder at Tom. He's washing his arms, flexing them more than is strictly necessary.

In for a penny, in for a pound...

I wade back out to him and hold my hand out for the soap. “Looks like you could use a hand?”

The smile he graces me with is wickedness incarnate. “Obliged, ma'am.”

I lather up the soap in my hands and move around him to his back, running my hands up along his spine and fanning them out over his shoulders, as high as I can reach. He makes a pleased sound, deep in his chest, as I massage the soap into his shoulders, where his coat is thicker. I use my nails to rake the soap through, gratified as his head tips back and he moans. Moving on, I scrub down his back, appreciating how hard his muscles feel under my hands. I palm his firm ass and he laughs over his shoulder at me.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Extremely so. Are you typically so hands-on with your clients?” I ask.

“Are you this hands-on with all your guides?” he counters.

“Only when they're as gorgeous as you.”

“So not frequently then.” he says. I laugh at his brazen confidence, deserved though it is. “Here, let me.”

He gently turns me around and massages the soap into my back, his large hands feel heavenly as they work out the knots and soreness in my muscles from a week of sleeping on a camp cot. I moan and lean into his touch.

“I like that sound. I'd like to make you make it again.” he says, digging his thumb into a stubborn muscle. I moan louder, my knees nearly buckling. I can feel his cock hardening against my back. His voice is low and heavy with promise in my ear. “I'd like to do a lot of things, if you're interested...”

I reach up and take hold of his hands, pulling them around to my breasts. He kneads them, slippery with soap, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they peak.

He reaches one hand down below the water and brushes his fingers between my legs, a tentative questioning touch. I nod eagerly and spread my legs more to allow him access. Tom uses his other hand to guide my arms up around his neck, my back arched and pressed to his chest.

“Hold onto me.” he whispers as his fingers slip between my folds and find my clit. I whimper as he starts rubbing small, slow circles. His cock is hard and hot against my back as I buck my hips into his hand. His other hand reaches under my thigh to lift up my leg, spreading me further. “I've got you, I won't let you slip.”

I let go of his shoulders and grab onto his horns as he bends his head over me to kiss the top of my head. The finger on my clit pauses to push back the hood, then resumes its assault. The increased sensation has me crying out, emboldened by our solitude.

“Fuck, I'm so close, Tom...”

He slips a finger inside me, slowly working me open on his hand, then adds another. The stretch combined with the pressure on my clit is deliciously agonizing. I'm only dimly aware that I'm begging him to fuck me.

“Oh, you're not ready for that, Stella. Not yet.” he says, pumping his fingers in and out of me with deft turns of his wrist. “Need to work up to taking my cock, don't wanna hurt you.”

I whimper. “Please, I need more...”

Tom works his fingers deeper and faster, dragging them against the sweet spot inside me that has me seeing stars, and I come gasping. He slowly works me through it, whispering how good I feel spasming around his fingers, how he wishes it was his cock, how he wants to watch me ride him.

I'm limp as he lifts me out of the water and carries me back to the shore, the soap long forgotten and lost downriver. He balances me on one of his massive thighs as he digs in his pack for a towel to lay out, then lays me down on it.

“Wait, you didn't come.” I protest, reaching out for him.

“You can make it up to me later.” he winks. I watch him take down our dry clothes and the clothesline, pulling on his fresh clothes and boots. He brings me a change of clothes and helps me pull them on. “How're your muscles feeling?”

“They feel great.” I admit with a lazy smile. “You have some magic hands.”

“I look forward to showing you what else I can do.” Tom helps me shoulder my pack and we continue down the trail, away from the river's edge and into the deeper woods.

[percabethfeelsfandom]

Writing Prompt AU: Childhood Best Friends to Lovers

PART 2: Age 9

Annabeth’s laugh cuts through the air as she runs away from Percy’s outstretched arms. 

“You can’t catch me Seaweed Brain! I’m too fast for you,” she screeches as she winds between other students in the playground and the play equipment. 

“I’m never going to stop chasing you,” he calls back, but he’s laughing as well which is detrimental to his speed. 

He can hear Grover cheering him on, mixed with Thalia’s cries at Annabeth to run faster, faster. Percy’s legs burn with exertion but he keeps going, keeping his eyes firmly trained on Annabeth’s bright hair as she runs further and further away from him. 

Another voice joins the two and Percy feels his feet stutter. 

“Come on Annabeth, you can beat him!” Luke shouts. Annabeth turns back for a moment, giving a wide smile to their new friend who moved to their school at the beginning of this year. Percy uses this to try and gain some ground on her, but she’s still just out of his reach. 

She ducks below a low hanging branch laughs as leaves catch Percy in the face. 

He pauses, catching his breath and tries to not get annoyed when Luke’s laughter joins Annabeth’s in teasing him. 

“Come on Seaweed Brain. You should be able to catch her, she’s just a girl,” Luke says and clamps a firm hand on Percy’s shoulder. He shrugs it off and looks around the playground for Annabeth’s familiar golden head. 

“Thalia and Annabeth are both faster than you,” Grover points out and Percy holds back a laugh while trying to catch his breath when Luke’s face goes pink. 

“Shut up Grover,” he answers and gives Grover a light push. Percy rolls his eyes and finally catches sight of Annabeth at the edge of his vision. 

He takes off again without saying anything to either of his friends and manages to get within a couple of feet of Annabeth before she sees him coming and disappears again into the crowd. 

She has a knack for becoming practically invisible during hide-and-seek tips, and Percy secretly hates when he’s it and has to go against her. 

Regardless, he pushes forward until his lungs are heaving. He leans against a brick wall and looks around, he knows she’s close, but he can’t see her, it’s like she’s disappeared into thin air. Fighting back an annoyed sigh he sits himself down and closes his eyes to rest. 

“Okay Annabeth you win, I’m tired. I give up.” He says, raising his voice so he can be heard amongst the other students playing around them. No one pays him any attention but he sees movement in the corner of his eyes and watches as Annabeth jumps from a low branch of a tree. He rolls his eyes at her hiding spot and watches as she slowly claps while she walks to him.  

He closes his eyes as he rests, not wanting to see her smug smile, but he hears when Annabeth joins him in sitting down. 

“One of these days you’ll catch me, don’t worry,” she reassures him, with a soft nudge against his shoulder.  

“One day,” he replies with a smile. He can’t stay annoyed with her for too long. She’s his best friend after all (after Grover of course). 

“Just not today.” 

Percy laughs and leans his head on her shoulder as they watch other students play in the playground. He expects her to push him off but she doesn’t and he stays there for a moment, finding comfort in her existence. He’s still catching his breath, but Annabeth seems hardly puffed out. “I can let you catch me tomorrow so that Luke stops laughing at you,” Annabeth says softly. 

Percy scoffs and turns to her, suddenly feeling a bit more serious. 

“No, that’s not fair on you. Luke is dumb. He doesn’t think girls can run fast, but you’re one of the fastest in the grade. It’s okay. I’ll be faster one day.”

Annabeth smiles and turns away, but Percy sees the blush before she does and the sight makes him blush as well. He sits up straighter so that he isn’t leaning against her anymore, suddenly embarrassed. 

“Unless of course, you don’t think I can catch you.” He tells her with a teasing tone. 

This time she’s the one that’s scoffing. 

“Whatever Seaweed Brain, come on, they’re probably looking for us.” She says and stands up, holding out a hand to him. He grabs it and lets her haul him to his feet. His legs are like jelly and he wobbles a bit when he stands, but she catches his arm before he falls. He gives her a smile in thanks and shakes himself a bit to reawaken his limbs. 

“Please stop calling me that,” he asks and she shakes her head, a wide smile on her face. 

“Hmm, I think not. It’s very fitting for you.”

“It happened one time, and it was an accident,” he complains and she laughs, walking backward as they talk. Seaweed Brain is a nickname she gave to him the first time they went to the beach together. He had ducked under a wave and come up with a head full of seaweed. It had been funny that day and they hadn’t been able to stop laughing, but three years later, the nickname had stuck. 

“It’s funny, Percy.”

“Not when everyone else does it. They don’t know why it’s funny,” he argues. He doesn’t mind when Annabeth does it, weirdly enough, but he gets a bit of an upset stomach when he hears other people like Luke calling him it. Even Nancy has caught wind of the name and calls him that when Annabeth and his other friends aren’t around. Percy isn’t scared of her anymore though because Nancy doesn’t have any friends to hide behind and Percy’s mom has taught him that people who hurt other people only do it because they’re sad. Which means Nancy is very sad. So Percy leaves her alone. 

Annabeth shrugs. 

“Then I’ll tell them off if it happens again, okay? Only I can call you that. It’s my special name for you. Agreed?”

Percy thinks about it for a moment. He can live with that. 

“Agreed.” 

They find their way back to their friends who are setting up a new game of hide-and-seek tag. 

“Not it!” He shouts as soon as they’re within earshot and Annabeth startles a bit next to him before echoing his words. Grover does the same, then Thalia. 

Leaving Luke frowning. 

“But I don’t want to be it.” 

“That’s the rules Luke, you’re it. Go count,” Thalia says with a shrug. She begins to jog backward, leaving the others, her spikey black hair disappearing moments later. 

“Sorry Luke,” Annabeth says softly and gives Luke an apologetic smile before following Thalia’s lead. 

Grover and Percy are right behind them, Luke’s voice counting down from 100 lost in the wind of other voices. 

Percy is out of breath again as he hides behind a bush. Luke has for some reason chosen him to be his target for this round, which isn’t really fair since Percy just spent the entire last round chasing Annabeth around the entire school, but Luke isn’t listening to him and it’s getting on Percy’s nerves just a little bit. 

He can hear Luke’s voice calling out to him, taunting him as Percy hears his footsteps pass, but he holds his breath as if that will help hide him better.

“Psst Percy!” 

He looks around wildly and catches sight of Annabeth at the top of the stairs. She beckons him closer and he looks cautiously out from the bush. She notices and shakes her head, urging him to be quicker. 

“It’s clear I promise. He’s looking for Grover. Come on hurry.” 

Percy takes her for her word and darts off in her direction. As he’s getting closer to her he hears footsteps follow him and watches as her eyes widen in a panic. 

“Percy run!” 

He turns back briefly and adrenaline fills his body as he sees Luke catching up to him.  

Annabeth has started running as well, and Percy trails after her, but he’s not as nimble and quick, accidentally bumping into students as he runs. He jumps over an upturned trashcan and whoops as it slows Luke down. Annabeth leads the way back to the play equipment and makes a leap onto it. 

“Is he still following me?” He calls to Annabeth as she climbs the monkey bars for a higher vantage point. He starts slowing down as she looks around. 

“I don’t know, I can’t see him.” 

There’s a loud cackle and Percy feels his body get tackled to the ground. Sharp pain shoots up and down his arm as it’s pinned to the ground and he cries out as he feels a crack. 

For a moment everything is simultaneously too bright and too dark. 

“Percy!” Annabeth’s voice cuts through the pain and he blinks, trying to regain his vision but black and white spots are still floating behind his eyelids. 

“Luke, why did you push him so hard!” 

Luke’s voice is panicked and high-pitched as he stands over Percy, casting a dark shadow over him, “I didn’t, he just wasn’t looking. It’s not my fault...He was just, he just stopped out of nowhere, he was going too slow.”

Percy groans and tries to sit up, but his arm is screaming at him, and he doesn’t want to look down because it feels wrong. He turns his face the other way, away from the sore arm and he meets Annabeth’s eyes briefly, but she gets back up and gestures wildly at Percy then at Luke.

“Oh my gods, Percy, your arm. Luke, get a teacher!” Annabeth’s voice is rising in panic and though he still can’t see clearly he can feel her join him on the ground and she cradles his head in her lap. 

“Come on it’s not that- oh ew,” Luke says, with a tone of disgust. Percy squeezes his eyes tightly so that the tears don’t fall and he hears Luke’s footsteps quickly retreat and leave them. 

Other voices start coming closer but all he can hear is Annabeth. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Percy. You’re okay, Percy. I promise. I’m here.”

He feels a small hand grip his good arm, and he peeks open one eye. 

“I’m okay,” he tries to say, but he shifts and accidentally moves his arm, sending another wave of pain down his body. 

“Don’t you dare move.” Annabeth sees the wince and hushes him, commanding him to stay still. 

“But-”

“If you move, you’re not my best friend anymore.” 

Percy freezes every single bone in his body and holds his breath as Annabeth inspects him, carefully arranging his limbs so he can be comfortable. It doesn’t work, but he manages to feel some sort of gratitude towards her for trying. He can tell she’s scared. He knows because they’re best friends and he knows Annabeth as good as he knows himself. Her hands are shaking and she keeps blinking because she’s trying not to cry. Percy wants to reach out to her, but he holds himself to his promise not to move. 

Moments later Luke arrives with a teacher in tow. 

“He tripped and fell…” He can hear Luke saying. 

“That’s not what happened,” Annabeth says with a frown, and gets up, leaving Percy. 

Their voices start to quiet as Percy feels himself get lightheaded. Footsteps come closer to him again and hands grip his shoulders, nudging him lightly. 

“Percy! Breathe! You can move, you can move,” Annabeth cries, her eyes wide and bright with fear. “You idiot, why did you hold your breath.” Percy tries to laugh, but it kind of hurts so he gives a half shrug, and takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs with much-needed air. 

“I didn’t want to move. I still want to be your best friend,” he admits truthfully. Annabeth laughs, but it comes out sort of like a cry and she wipes at her eyes and pats his head softly like she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. 

“You’re so dumb. You’re always going to be my best friend, Seaweed Brain. Come on, stay awake, the ambulance is coming.” 

She doesn’t move from her spot by her side the entire time. Not when Thalia and Grover come to see why Luke hasn’t found them. Not when the teachers tell them that the ambulance is on their way. Not when Percy’s Mom, Sally, is called and is told to meet them at the hospital. Not even when the ambulance arrives, but when a teacher comes and softly tugs her away from him, her hand finally leaves his. 

Percy has never been to the hospital alone before and the fear sets in as they’re pulling him onto the stretcher and telling them where he’s headed.  He starts crying for his friends. Screaming at them not to leave them. Grover is crying into Thalia’s arms, scared and overwhelmed at the loud sounds of the sirens but Annabeth is screaming back, begging the teachers to let her go as they hold her back. 

Mr Brunner, Percy’s favourite teacher joins him in the ambulance and reassures him that Annabeth will be able to visit once he’s at the hospital, but that doesn’t ease his anxieties until he sees his mother waiting for him when he reopens his eyes at the hospital. 

The sight of her brings an immediate calm to his body, and he feels his bones relax. They take x-rays of his arm and put him in a cast, telling him that he’ll be in it for a couple of months. He’s still shaking with pain and shock but his Mom brushes his hair out of his face and softly hums him to sleep until his eyes close again and he falls into a dreamless sleep. 

When he reawakens there are multiple people in his room. The first he sees is his mother still at his side, biting her thumb as she watches him wake. The next is the face of his disgruntled step-father Gabe, who leaves the room once he sees his eyes open. 

And then his friends. 

Grover. Thalia. Luke. 

And- 

“Percy!” Annabeth throws her arms around Percy before he’s even fully awake and he gasps in surprise before returning the hug and pushing his face into her shoulder. 

“You scared me,” she whispers, so quiet he can barely hear her. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he says back, equally as quiet. 

She finally pulls back and sits back on the bed. 

“I’m glad you’re okay now.” 

He manages a smile and nods. 

“Me too.” 

His other friends join him on the bed, and poke at his cast, asking him questions about it and the ride in the ambulance. They talk well into the night, and even though it’s late and the sky is dark, their parents let them all stay, keeping Percy company until visiting hours end. 

Before his friends leave, the doctor comes in and hands Percy a pen. 

“Do you want your friends to sign your cast before they go?” 

Percy nods enthusiastically and they all take turns writing something on his cast before waving him goodbye. 

Grover draws an assortment of plants and flowers. Thalia draws a wide smiley face and Luke writes luke was here. He rolls his eyes at the silly drawings and their names on the cast before handing it to Annabeth who is the last one left. 

She carefully takes the pen from Percy and holds his arm carefully, before writing. 

I hope you get better soon, love annabeth (your best friend)

(PART 1)

[shaydeoffical]

Let’s Slip Away: Diluc x Fem Reader: Childhood Best Friend Au

Summary: You and Diluc slip away from the annual Dawn Winery Ball and confess. Reader then deals with some anxiety about the relationship and Diluc soothes them.  

Tags:

Lots of fluff, Creepus is a wonderful person, Diluc is so smooth, dancing under the moonlight, long fit.  

Diluc x Reader

Lets Slip Away

The annual Dawn Winery Masquerade Ball, the biggest ball this side of Mondstat, or it used to be. Thankfully, Diluc had successfully scaled the ball down in size a little more with each passing year. Still, it didn't make much of a difference with the ballroom still being packed tight. No matter how the guest list shrunk, people found a way to take up the same amount of space as before. There's nothing I loved more than a dance, but it was the people I couldn't stand. Everyone liked to pretend they were an evil aristocrat once their identity was concealed. A fancy dress, a decorative mask, and a new hairstyle, and everyone felt invincible. It was the same thing every year; they'd order the staff around, drink till they lost control, and leave the manor a mess. It was deplorable.

After watching a woman toss a glass on one of the maids, I lost my cool. I may or may not have tossed my grape juice on the women in retribution. The maid couldn't do it, so I had to use my position as "Master" Diluc's best friend to get away with it. What I didn't expect was for the lady's husband to toss not just the wine but the whole glass at my face. While the glass didn't bust when the base hit my head, it did leave a notable bruise, and the wine soaked through my hair, mask, and dress.

Elzer stepped in immediately to settle the issue, and instead of sticking around to get a lecture, I slipped into the garden. Hiding between several grapevines. I listened to the music pour from the house above and pouted. If I had played my cards right tonight, I would have been dancing in an empty corner with Turner or maybe even Diluc if he was free. He always saved the last dance for me. When the party started to clear a little, we'd stay in my favorite corner and have a quick dance while he whispered about he'll find a way to have the event canceled next year. But no, I was being eaten by mosquitos fighting off a headache.

Holding my mask between my hands, the once white fabric had stained dark red. Even my cream dress was littered with splotches that wrecked of dandelion wine. Sucking in my lower lip, I held back a sudden wave of sadness. It settled into my bones and swept through my limbs in a jitter. Why was I so sad? I avenged the maid and did the right thing… but my chest ached.   Curling around myself, I tucked my head between my lap. There was a time and place for crying, and a party wasn't one. Yet, there I was, sobbing into the fancy gown Diluc had hand made for me. Of course, he wouldn't be mad at me for what happened, but the guilt was eating me alive. I had ruined the evening for myself and made things harder on my friend. "There you are. I've been looking all over-. Hey, Elzer told me what happened, but he didn't mention a welt. How badly are you hurt?" Diluc pushed through the vines faster and hopped over the last row. He knelt beside me and carefully lifted my chin so he could see my face. "I'm just being a baby." I leaned back, the moonlight catching my skin. He ran his thumb over the knot on my forehead, and he clenched his teeth. "Damn bastard." He looked back at the mansion. "He might be wearing a mask, but there's only one person in Mondstat with monogram shoe buckles." "What?" I laughed; he was so serious, but the idea of a monogram shoe buckle had me drying up my tears. "Who pays for that kind of thing?" "Mr. Barker." Diluc wiped under my eyes. "Are you hurt anywhere besides your head?" "Besides the guilt of running the dress you got me and making the party harder for you to manage, I'm fine." I let it out. There was no use in pretending it wasn't bothering me. I had learned a lot about Diluc in our years of being together. While he was a very perceptive man when it came to solving crimes and putting things together, he didn't have the same skill for guessing how I felt. He's known something was wrong before, but he'd just find ways to blame himself if I didn't tell him. "I'll have you another dress made, and those Barkers aren't your fault. Ms. Barker started it, and I ended it. There's always a little drama at these events." He twirled my hair around his finger. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop it entirely." "Don't go blaming yourself now." I scooted so close; I was almost in his lap. "Let's just focus on the music or the sky. I know you'll have to go back in soon, so let's just relax for a moment." "Hmm, I can hear it from here. It's nice." A soft number started to play, and people passing by the window cast shadows into the courtyard. He leaned his head against mine. Minutes passed by, and the song changed, both of us just settling our nerves. "So, I guess we won't have the last dance together this year." I hummed, the thought burning at the back of my mind. "I can't go back in there like this." I forced myself to laugh, trying to get it off my chest without sounding too sad. "We don't have to go back in. Elzer can handle the end of the night speech for me, like every year." Diluc stood, reaching his hand out to me. "Milady, may I have this dance?" "Diluc…of course, you may." I pushed my insecurities down and gripped his rough hand. Being wealthy, Diluc had been trained in many different types of formal ballroom dances. When he was in the zone, there was no one but Kaeya who could match his prowess and aura. But I wasn't blessed with the same background. I was just the daughter of the maid, and while my mother was paid well, there wasn't enough money to pay for a dance instructor. However, Diluc taught me everything he knew. We use to spend hours after his class, practicing and gliding around the living room. After some time, I even got to join the classes as Diluc and Kaeya's partner. Creepus convinced my mother it was just good practice for the boys, but looking back, he just wanted me to get that experience as well. "You okay?" Diluc gently gripped my waist as I spun back into his arms. "Yes, I was just thinking about when you taught me how to dance." I closed the gap between us and started moving with the song. Diluc took charge after a few more movements, and I gave up trying to lead. It was always a fun game for us to try to take charge, but I normally gave in fairly fast. Every now and then, he'd let me lead, but I often stepped on his toes when I did.   The ground wasn't level as a dance floor, so it was easier to just follow Diluc. Since he took the first step, he was able to find the best footholds. When we did hit a small hump, we'd steady each other and share a small smile. It wasn't a seamless performance like when we were on solid ground, but it was fun. It also gave us a reason to cling tighter to each other. His broad chest was always so warm; there was nothing more pleasant than laying my head there and closing my eyes as we swayed under the moon. "That was always so much fun." Diluc spun me out, then back into his arms. "Father use to watch us practice, he never told me directly, but Elzer said it was one of his favorite memories." Diluc pressed his lips into a line, eyes turning back to the manor. "He always loved this event, but I can't help but hate it." "I'm not a fan of the crowds or the entitled guests. But I do enjoy dancing with you." I laid my head on his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. "It seems we only dance when this event rolls around. And I can't help but wish for more moments like this. So, while I understand your distaste, I do think Creepus had the right idea. This is a chance for all of us to come together do something we all loved…it just is hard to enjoy when other people are so entitled." "I feel the same way. Dancing with you, it's always my favorite part of the ball." We swayed back and forth in a tight embrace, the music fading out and our footwork growing sloppy. "There's been so much to do recently. I'm afraid I've neglected you." "Mother told me that as friends get older, drifting apart is normal… I'm just glad you're still here with me. No matter how short that time is." He hugged me tighter, inhaling a sharp breath. "Maybe friends do, but my feelings for you are much stronger than just friends." I gasped before I could stop myself. Crickets chirped in the distance, and the lighting bugs emerged just as the party started to close. This moment was very much real…but did he really just confess? "You want to be with me?" I slowly looked up, grabbing the sides of his suit. "As more than friends?" "I do." He pulled back a little, glancing at the ground. "How do you feel? Could you ever love me as more than a friend? I know it's selfish to ask that of you, given the dangers that follow my line of duty. But I can't deny myself any longer." "My heart is going to jump out of my chest, Luc." Grasping his hand, I pressed it to my wrist. He smiled, rubbing his thumb over my pulse. "I want to be yours, and you mine. To be honest, I've had feelings for you for a while now. I just thought you didn't return them." Heat climbed up my face, and I looked away to hide it. While his confession was so smooth, mine was energetic and messy. Why couldn't I keep it calm? "That settles it then." He stepped closer, our eyes locking and fingers lacing. "We'll be together from here on out." A warm breeze went by, picking up the bottom of my ruined skirt. "Next time there's a dance, you won't have to leave my side, nor I yours. There will be no flying wine glasses or uncouth guests. We can dance the night away without worry or interruption." "I don't know if a party could ever go that smoothly." I pushed his hair back and cupped his face. "Unless we barred over half the guest list." "If you don't think I'd do that, then you underestimate how far I'll go to make you happy." His checks tined red, barely illuminated by the moon. "Oh, I don't doubt you, Master Diluc. But I'm not hard to please, we could dance in the living room like we use to, and I'd be the happiest person alive." I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his hips, and swaying to an imaginary beat. "It's not often you add my title before my name." He hummed, letting me lead us to the song in my head. "Master Diluc, whatever do you mean?" I batted my eyelashes and snickered. "I didn't realize I added it. Maybe it's where I've spent most of the night talking about you, and not to you that I've forgotten how to be relaxed. There was many a guest who wanted to pry about your love life." "Well, you have a definitive answer now, Lady Amber." He kissed the top of my head, stopping for a moment. His body radiated a wave of heat, and he nodded to himself. "It's starting to get cold. We should head inside before you catch a cold. I'm sure everyone's left by now." "I don't want this moment to end." I clung to his shirt, the warmth he emitted making my eyelids grow heavy. Whenever he allowed me to use him as a personal heater, I took the chance. But this was the first time I didn't worry about it being the last.   "We have many more moments like this ahead of us." He supported me as we walked towards the mansion, looping his arm around my waist. "Let's go clean up, and turn in for the night. Tomorrow we can have breakfast and go for a ride along the river. How does that sound?" "It sounds so nice." Once we were back in the house, Elzer met us in the doorway. "Where have you been, Master Diluc?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced at me. "And you, Ms. Amber, what were you thinking tossing your drink? You completely ruined the night. I could hardly contain the guests" Diluc wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and Elzer's tone sifted from miffed to muted. "Elzer, the issue was with the guests, not Amber." He steered me towards the stairs, nudging me along. "Go on to bed. I'll be up there in a moment. I have some business to finish up." Diluc walked towards his office, motioning for Elzer to follow him. Elzer shot me a perplexed look and tried to mouth out, 'be more careful' before hurrying after Diluc. I whisper back, "okay," before taking the stairs two at a time before stopping. I wasn't going to get in trouble, so I might as well show I'm not ashamed. "Goodnight Elzer," I called after the older man, with as "pleasant" of a tone as I could muster. Parties almost always stressed him more than Diluc, but since Elzer was an employee, he couldn't run and hide like Luc. Truth be known, if Diluc hadn't been there, I would have gotten a long lecture on the importance of keeping good relations with potential business partners. But that's only because Elzer couldn't let his frustrations out on anyone else. I was always there to listen and receive his distain when things went wrong. It wasn't my favorite pastime, but it did help him feel better. It was surprising he was so stressed, he actually chastised me in front of Diluc. It must have been a tough night even after I left. I usually was lectured in private, but he really was ready to let me have it.   Once in the guest room, I disrobed. The heavy gown took several minutes to untie and loosen the laces, but once it was done, my lungs could fully expand. My ribs ached, so I rubbed circles on my sides till the initial throb dulled. The night had gone better than I ever planned, and now it was over. Yet, there was a worse throb in my chest than the pain of a corset. Diluc and I were finally together. We removed the ever-lingering question and just confessed. Why did it hurt inside? Was it that the party was hard on everyone else and I was so happy? Or was it something else? Tilling the blue pitcher on the nightstand, water rushed into the ornate basin below. Dipping a rag into the cool water, I began to wash the wine from my face. It had been such a stressful night. Perhaps the empty feeling inside was fear of the unknown. Or fear that Diluc would wake up and change his mind. That he'd send me away for good once he realized he could never be with someone of such low status. Someone who didn't couldn't even keep up public appearance at a ball. Maybe, it would just take me slipping up once when I was wearing a mask? Then he'd send me away from the manor. I finished cleaning up, then tossed the water out the window. Fixing the pitcher and basin back in place, I reached below the nightstand and pulled out my nightgown. Slipping on the flowy gown, I turned down my sheets and got comfortable. This guest room had been mine for as long as I could remember. While I still lived in the cottage by the river with my mother, I spent more nights at the mansion than at home. Diluc and I would rush through his paperwork every night, and I'd help get his gear ready to go protect Mondstat. I was his sidekick in many ways. Spending so much time there at night, it just made sense for me to sleep here too. We were a great team. Plus, the close proximity made things easier and less suspicious… But that wasn't the whole truth. It was more so that my mother had met someone new, and he had moved into our shared home. He was a nice man, a retired Knight of Favonius, but I just couldn't relax around him. He was stern about me not going out after dark, so staying over at the mansion became more and more frequent. Which was better for mom and Mr.Godfrey's partnership. But while I spent more nights away, mom started to believe there was something between Diluc and me, so she was happy to see me leave home. She was going to be overjoyed to hear the news that we confessed. Though, I'm sure she'll say kicking me out was the reason we finally admitted our feelings, which was not the whole truth. Still, I did miss my own bed sometimes. Pressing my back to the headboard, I curled my knees up and rested my head between them. Sucking in a deep breath, small tears slipped past again. There was too much happening. I couldn't think about one thing for too long. So much good just happened. Why? Why was I thinking about the bad? A familiar rasp at the door rang through the room. "Come in." Wiping my eyes, I sat up and pulled the covers up to my neck. "You're crying again." He walked into the candlelight. I could tell he had cleaned up before coming to see me. He was wearing one of his loose puffy shirts and some cotton pants; his hair had been smoothed and pulled into a low ponytail, water dripping from the ends. It didn't matter what he wore. He always looked unbelievably handsome. "Was it Elzer? He knows it's not your fault. He was just worried about our trade deal." "There's just so much to think about. I can't let myself be happy." I rubbed my eyes again. "What if you realize I'm not good enough for you? Or what if my mother's partner treats you poorly because you quit the Knights? Then that couple, what if they stop working with you and it hurts the business because of me? No one is ever going to see me as anything more than a gold digger." My brain let loose, new concerns and problems being added to my mix. "I'm so negative right now, and I know you probably just want to be happy that we feel the same way…but- I'm so sorry. "He pulled back the covers and crawled in with me. Wrapping me in his arms, the blanket went over our heads, and Diluc settled down. "There you go, having to comfort me like a child." I rested my hand on his shoulder. "You sure you could learn to love a mess like me?" "I already love you." He rubbed patterns on my back, pressing a kiss to the lump on my forehead. "You've been like this since we were children, plagued with worries beyond your control. I know that after you let it out, you always feel better. And that the minute you go silent, that's when I really need to do some digging." He paused drawing on my back and instead moved to play with my hair. "We'll figure it all out as we go, all the what's and if's. We'll take them one at a time, starting with the one I have control over." "Woah." He flipped me over, hovering inches from my face. He pinned me between his legs, the v neck of his shirt hanging open so I could see the red hairs on his chest. "You could be from the richest family in Mondstat or poorest, and I'd still want to be with you." He kissed me, pressing down just until our bodies touched. "I'd go as far as to say, if you were a member of the Fatui, I'd still be smitten. I would certainly find a way to break your ties with them, but I couldn't stop loving you. So, you are more than enough for me, and if anyone makes you feel differently, then I will handle it." "That's a bold statement coming from you." I ran my fingers through his ponytail as it hung over his shoulder. "I can't argue with that logic, but I promise I'm not a member of the Fatui." I wrapped my arms around his waist, encouraging him to squish me with his full weight. "I'm going to crush you." He fought against me, but I only nuzzled his neck, blowing raspberries. "Amber, hey." "I know. But I'd also like to point out how improper it is for you to be in my room at this hour. So, I'd like to be crushed as repayment… please." I let go of one side of his hip and wiped my eyes. "You are right. It is improper." He lowered himself a little more but didn't fully lay on me. "A true gentlemen would never stay this late with a proper young lady. However, there is something else I want that's a little scandalous." "What could that be?" I gasped, my lungs not fully expanding as his weight sunk down on my chest. He noticed as he sat up to his previous position. "A kiss?" He moved his elbow up and cupped my face. His eyes glimmered with the flame that was lighting up the room. His touch was gentle but so firm I couldn't imagine being in another person's embrace. At that moment, there were only two people in the world, and I was madly in love with one of them.   "That sounds quite proper to me. You should always kiss your lover goodnight." I stuttered a little, unable to keep up the playful banter as I looked at his lips. The smile that spread on his face made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. Archons, I was smitten.   His thumb brushed my lower lip before he brought his mouth down for a chaste kiss. Testing the waters, he hovered millimeters above me, and I stole his lips in a deeper kiss. Having a lack of experience in the field, I matched the pattern he set. Just like dancing, I tried to take the lead and failed miserably. So I did was I was best at, adding the fun flourishes. I curled my fingers into his hair and snaked my hand up his shirt and across his chest. He matched my movements, caressing my face and tilting my head up to deepen the kiss. Every star in the sky dulled in comparison to the explosion of light that spread over my body. He shifted back, catching his breath. he smoothed my hair and peppered, kissing around my face before setting back. "Thank you." He laced our fingers together, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles.     "Will you stay tonight?" I took our intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles in return. "I don't want you to leave just yet." "As you wish." He got behind me, adjusting the covers we had tossed around earlier. "Now, let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." I laid my head on my pillow and scooted back until we were slotted against each other. His hand wrapped around my shoulders in a reassuring squeeze. "I love you." "I love you more." It took a while for all the blood pumping through my body to relax again, but once it did, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Dreams of dancing through the clouds with Diluc filled my head, and I had the best rest of my entire life. Next to the man I dearly loved.   

The End

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[night-will-fall]

ok i have a quick rant on the Darkling/Darklina/Shadow and Bone trilogy i have to get out. i genuinely feel she let down his character, alina’s character, and in general the whole arc of the narrative.

**i want to clarify first that I am not anti Leigh. i’ve tagged that per someone’s request, but the truth is i simply feel that anybody who decides to put a story out there in the world, or any kind of writing, will be subject to criticism. that’s part of writing, it’s part of art, and it’s just part of creation and the real world, no matter your intentions or motivations for your piece. just like this post—it should be subject to criticism, too. that’s how discussion happens and people learn. it’s not an attack on the original writer because the writer is not their work. i love Leigh and her choice to put her stories out in the world, even if i disagree with some of the choices she made. it’s only because of her that we get to have these conversations about our favorite characters in the first place. (I also don’t think it’s fair to her and all the work she put into SEVEN novels to reduce the decisions she made about her characters and plots to ‘coping’ — just my two cents. I’m sure her trauma influenced her work, it’s hard to imagine otherwise. but I doubt she or anyone else would vouch for people refusing to critique their work because of something she went through that does not define her.)**

the problem i have with Leigh’s writing of the Darkling is that after Shadow & Bone, it was so forced. she wrote him doing all of these implausibly horrible things after the fans started to like him to force it down our throats that he was the irredeemable villain. and yet when he was first introduced, i was so hopeful that this character called ‘the Darkling’, a shadow summoner and master of darkness, wouldn’t fall into the predictably, disappointingly easy trope of evil as darkness and good as light. so when she did exactly that, it felt like a betrayal of the character after he had already begun to take on a life and heart of his own. we connected to him. and she did her very best to sever that connection in favor of an emotionally manipulative boy who did almost nothing to help alina grow. Mal actually hindered and harmed her growth, constantly guilting her for having wants, desires, and feelings of her own that didn’t revolve around him, whereas the Darkling never wanted her to be anything but herself. he, like her, was capable of seeing the bigger picture, whereas Mal was an absurdly selfish and bizarre character that cared about none of that (and didn’t even “want” alina until she was famous and desired ?!! like come on). i sincerely can’t believe he was intended to be the love interest we connected with and rooted for.

and i know she likely had personal reasons for characterizing Aleksander the way she did, possibly attempting to embody anecdotal experiences with a specific person who did her harm in her own life, but with this character it felt unnatural and forced. she basically ignored of all of his character’s potential as a complex, nuanced human tortured by watching generations of his people’s pain, trauma, exploitation, murder, etc. (even if it was true that he had eroded morally/emotionally because of the mervost and centuries of standing witness to these atrocities), ironically dismissing his potential to grow in a story that was supposed to be all about growth (another narrative failure i won’t get into here). not to mention that his mission’s intent wasn’t even inherently evil (morally grey at worst, which is so much more compelling than pure evil anyway, which makes it extra disappointing that she bungled this), and by the end of the series all of his completely valid points just went unaddressed and people continued to suffer for it. his attempts to solve that problem were simplistically reduced and deemed as plain ‘evil’, with very few people recognizing the deep empathy and collective pain that drove his actions—something that alina actually did understand. 

i feel bad for him. that’s why i like him and that’s why i like Darklina. he deserved better, and so did alina. their chemistry was so eloquently written (and portrayed in the show) and i truly believe they could’ve helped each other grow. but we never got a chance to see or explore that because of how Bardugo’s personal feelings obscured the natural direction of her characters’ development, ultimately doing a serious disservice to her narrative (she does this a few times — prioritizes certain plotlines and actions that she wants to include even if they don’t align with the natural progression of the story). she tries to make us believe certain things and feel certain ways about her characters and plot points in opposition of the simple truth that they just don’t fit. alina’s character essentially ends up right where she started with only a few slight differences, one of them being the loss of power, which was something that made her uniquely, intrinsically her, and was cruelly ripped away in a nonsensical punishment for what? daring to trust? daring to break away from the insecure hold Mal had over her, and constantly used against her? daring to grow and learn? daring to delve deeper into her own power as a Grisha? daring to connect with the Darkling and the nobility of his motives? it was all around just a sad and disappointing direction to take a story that had so much potential to be powerful and different.

[not to mention all of the beautiful balance in the light/shadow trope, the star-crossed lovers torn apart by situational and ideological conflict, the novelty of their powers and their mirroring inabilities to “fit in” or find others like them, like. come ON, that could have been so great. ugh. just to abandon it all for dusty, insecure Malware. pls.]

ok end rant. thank you if you read my heated word vomit.