#this has been living in my wip folder for a while....

[kashmimo]

Pokemon x Urusei Yatsura ✨

[moonlight-prose]

If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?

LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN

a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.

summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.

word count: 3.1k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.

It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.

That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.

Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.

So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.

The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.

“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”

Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.

You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.

Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.

The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.

His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.

Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.

“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.

“How…”

The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”

“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.

He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”

“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.

“Generating enough body heat only works when—”

“Both of us are naked.”

His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.

Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.

Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.

“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.

If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.

“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.

“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.

“What is it?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.

It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.

“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”

His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”

You scoffed. “You probably will.”

The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.

“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.

Until—

“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.

“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”

You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?

That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.

He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

You gasped. “Din—”

“What you’ve been doing?

His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.

“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”

“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”

His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.

He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”

“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”

You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.

For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.

“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.

“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”

His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.

“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.

“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”

A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.

You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt  in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.

Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?

The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.

You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.

Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.

“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.

“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.

“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”

Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.

“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” you asked softly.

“I do.”

You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.

“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”

He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”

[kissingghouls]

hi ghouls! so sorry you've had such a rubbish weekend. i hope this week is much brighter for you 🫂💕

for the ~cute interactions~ prompts: maybe something with mary holding hands/playing with each other's fingers? my mary heart yearns for something soft 😭 sending you love 💕

oh boy. This one got away from me more than once and now I've got several Mary WIPs in the folder. more Goore '24 continues I suppose. @sakuraspoke - you can absolutely have some soft Mary my beloved. thank you so much for the kind words 🖤🖤🖤

2 a.m. - Mary Goore x gn!Reader

established relationship, he/they Mary, darlin & babe used for Reader. a little suggestive but no real warnings. just 850-ish words of fluff and kissin' div by @gothdaddyissues 🖤🖤🖤

It’s late when Mary quietly tiptoes into your apartment and moves through the shadows. They’re trying not to make any noise, taking slow but giant steps to avoid the creaking spots in the floorboards while balancing that ridiculously heavy guitar case. But your boyfriend—sweet as his is—has always been blessed with more charm than grace and it’s a good thing you weren’t really asleep anyway.

You stir from your spot on the sofa, lit by the soft glow of some gruesome true crime story playing on the television. The sudden movement startles them and sends them stumbling over their own feet in a comical display of flailing limbs. He lands with a loud thud as one of his boots flies across the room, the other still secured to his foot.

A sheepish smiles creeps across his face as he looks up at you from the floor. “I’m sorry, babe,” he whispers, trying desperately not to laugh at his own clumsiness. “I was trying not to wake you.”

“It’s ok,” you reply sleepily. I wasn’t sleeping.”

He nods and returns to the task of taking off his other shoe. “What’re you doing out here on the couch?”

“Just watching TV.”

He grins and shakes a few messy strands of hair away from his face. “Are you waiting up for me?”

You give a noncommittal shrug as he crawls on hands and knees, dragging himself the short distance across the floor to reach you. He comes to rest with a groan, leaning against the sofa as he stretches his legs as far as he can after a ridiculously busy day.

“Ugh, I’ve been standing for like, twelve hours.”

“Poor baby,” you hum and run a hand through their hair. There’s no teasing is your statement. You know Mary hates days like this. You hate days like this, hate seeing them so exhausted they’re literally crawling on the floor. “Wanna come sit with me?”

They shake their head. “Can’t move. Plus, I kinda smell disgusting darlin.”

“I kinda don’t care, Goore.”

“Your funeral,” he grunts as he stands.

He throws himself over you, wedging his skinny hips between your back and the sofa. His skin is slightly sticky with old sweat and fake blood, shirt still damp from playing in a bar where ventilation is more of a joke. Most of that cologne you like is covered by the thick smell of smoke and beer, but you couldn’t care less now that he’s home. As he drapes an arm around your middle, you lace your fingers with his.

“Better?” you ask.

Mary tightens his grip and buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. “Mmph, you smell nice.”

“Makes one of us.”

“Hey, I tried to warn you.  Not my fault you didn’t listen.”

Across the room, the narrator of a different program begins to talk about happier things while you lose yourself in the comfort of just being next to Mary. You run your fingertips over the thick calluses on his hands, appreciating every little piece of your boyfriend—the rough spots and the sweet spots and everything in between. It doesn’t matter how late it is or how dirty his clothes currently are. You live for the little moments like this, the times where you’re the only two people in the universe and the world outside your apartment no longer exists. You’d stay here forever if you could, but reality is cruel and one of you should probably be a realist.

He groans as you press your thumbs into his palm and start to massage away the aches he’s kept quiet for the last week at least.

“Fuuuuck,” he whines quietly. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I think you deserve the world, Mary Goore.”

They laugh lightly, breath tickling your ear. “I dunno, I might just start with a shower.”

“Fine,” you grumble. “Can you just stay here a little longer first?”

“I’m never going anywhere.”

“Promise?”

He pulls you closer, turning his hand over to lock his fingers with yours. “To our graves, darlin. Then I’m gonna haunt you.”

“That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Hmm, romantic enough to get you to shower with me?”

“Yeah, I think you’ve earned it.”

“Heh. I mean it though, you know.”

“What? That you wanna take a shower together?” you tease.

“Well, yeah. But forever, I mean. You and me.”

“Mary,” you start quietly, voice shaking as you fight tears.

“I know, I know. Marshmallow Goore.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah?” they ask, and you can hear the smile in their voice.

A soft “mmhmm” is all you can manage as you nod.

“Good, because I really fuckin’ love you, darlin.”

You scramble to turn in his arms, lips crashing together in a clumsy and desperate effort to get even closer to each other. They bring their hands to your face as tongues clash and your legs begin to tangle in the ensuing rush. It’s hurried and heated, too excited to be anything else and too soul-bearingly honest for any more words. There’s barely space for breaths between each kiss, the two of you left dizzy and lightheaded all the way to your bathroom.

I just wanna add a thank you to everyone who's sent prompts & requests. I'm having fun learning how to make things in these shorter forms between my normally huge projects. I might properly open up requests in the future if anyone is interested?

[applesontheground]

some of my lies are true 💼

KINKTOBER 2024 | DAY TWENTY ONE - BATH/SHOWER SEX

been reading the novelization recently, as i've mentioned, and being reminded of the one scene with him telling christie to wash herself before fucking her was calling to me when i was mapping out this month and saw the bath prompt...

and come on now, like i wasn't going to set aside at least one day for him, right? revisiting him after starting the book and getting even more of his character than i once thought possible with me has been nuts.

p.s. this reader is a returning PR agent from this fic since i liked that setup a ton. she's slowly becoming an OC in the back of my wip folder, but i have a lot of other things going on so she's not 100% there. (yet.)

NSFW | Word Count: 988 | Patrick Bateman x Female Reader contains canon typical/mr. bateman is his own warning, fingering, mild asphyxiation, biting, two weirdos kissing 🎼: x

Keeping up with multiple affairs had been exhausting since meeting Patrick. That was in both personal and professional lives, and you weren’t being paid to keep up with your personal ones, so that was the one that took the fall.

Visiting on a night he was able to clear the evening from his usual rendezvous, endless business lunches and nights out, he asked if you’d come over, bathe yourself, and then see what the two of you would want after. Gladly, craving that harsh love only he seemed to give, the perspective so cold and yet so tempting, fascinating – especially after you had garnered his attention, his need to have you becoming too intense to tease any more without getting your throat cut over it should his fantasies prove larger than life – you accepted, even worked with him and his schedule. It wasn’t like you needed the plans yourself, also having to be up in the morning for a meeting with your manager.

When you had made your way over, he was already running the bath, and the second the door was closed he had given you a couple love bites around your neck in greeting. Leading you into the bathroom, he talked about what new CD he had bought that day, and also what wine the two of you would be drinking. Even while you undressed, hoping he’d notice you shaved, but not anticipating anything outside of what he wanted to focus on, he was talking about his disappointment with the day's episode of The Patty Winters Show.

“You took my advice.” He then observed when you finally stretched out in the milky water of the tub, a hand on your collarbone and feeling the skin of your chest with a warm hand, “You have a much clearer complexion, and I assume that’s from the cleanser I recommended.”

You nodded, “And the lotion. Great combination, I see why you were swearing on it.” He beamed at that, and then commented, “I want you looking pristine, especially if we’re going to be seeing each other more often.”

“You almost make me sound impressive,” You found another word, sitting up more in the bath with a sarcastic tone, “Exclusive.”

“You are." He corrected, speaking more heavily, "and I’m thinking that you’re playing dumb with me. You know that you are.” He reminded with a hand ghosting around your neck before pulling away. “Especially now that no one else besides me is going to be sleeping with you.”

That was a work in progress, knowing he was still engaged to Evelyn, having a sidepiece discussion with Courtney…and you didn’t believe he was done with any other hookups outside of that. His friends were just as messy and scandalous, and considering you always had a project open at his office, it was a hopeless game to try and fight over. That was something you were going to ask regardless, and even if he lied you knew that he didn’t really care about how you felt now that the two of you were in a comfortable attachment, knowing you wouldn’t resist if he asked you to come over next week despite the truth hanging in front of the both of you.

You then looked up and asked, “I feel selfish, are you getting in the bath too or is this just to watch me?” He stared through you, letting the silence and the sound of the water against the tub fill it, before finally standing up again with another drink from a whisky tumbler. He shouldered his robe off, showing his body to you and satisfied with the way you sized him up.

“Normally, I don’t join with the prostitutes I bring home. The washing is solely for them,” He explained, one leg in the tub and you taking in his physique while listening, “And I don’t think it’d be smart to be in the same bath as them. Don't you think, [Y/N]?”

You grinned, tipping your head as you amicably replied, “Sure.”

“Good.” He lowered in, and then gestured, “Sit between my legs.” You did as you were told, sliding in and letting his arms come around your sides, a casual hand touching you and the other running along your body, soaked in warm water and making you sigh deeply.

“Is MacDermott still picking up trash off the streets at Tunnel?” He asked, and you replied, “Yes. Caught Chlamydia sometime last month, and now it’s my job to hide the break his wife wants to take, keep him from losing composure at work.” Bateman laughed in your ear, breathing against your shoulder as he scrutinized, “Dumb bastard.”

“And what about you?” You then asked, his finger trailing up your sternum now, probably imagining what it would look like if he dug inside with a knife to see it for himself. His morbid thoughts couldn’t help but become yours some nights, especially when he wasn’t indulging you by telling you.

“Evelyn asked me if I would accompany her to a live show, even though she knows I hate it.” He started to rant, splashing you with the water but you digressed in favor of simply listening, “I can’t stand her friends, and of course she invited them too so they can cluck like hens all night, already shrieking about how much she’s always loved George Michael. I could care less.”

You looked up behind you, “Since when did you hate George Michael?”

“Since I first heard him.” He gritted, the hand returning to your neck. He then leaned in with access to your lips from your turn, kissing hard and making sure to bite your bottom lip in a red hot pressure before releasing. The idle hand went back down, once again prodding your entrance and slipping inside when you showed a sign of discomfort.

"Nice of you to shave," He commented, kissing you again as he finally turned the water off.

[futurewdclandonorris]

Lap Dance | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: basically smut, lots of babygirl I guess

A/N: decided to try myself in this writing stuff and this has been sitting in my wips folder since January. I have a lot more for Lando and Pierre written so let me know if you'd want them. Also, English is not my first language :)

It was close to midnight and George and you were just coming back from the restaurant where you celebrated your two years anniversary. You both were a little tipsy; George struggled a bit with unlocking the door of your apartment and you just stood giggling beside him. Finally, the key clicked and he let you inside first.

"You looked absolutely gorgeous tonight." he said, looking you from up and down as he turned to face you. He walked up to you, grabbing you into his embrace and resting his hands on your hips.

"You looked good too." you whispered, looking up at him and pulling him by his suit jacket.

"Oh yeah?" he inquired, your noses brushing against each other.

You nodded and let him kiss you there in the hallway. Shortly, your kiss turned into a full make out session and you had to stop him when he reached underneath your red dress because you already had something else planned in mind.

"George," you breathed, your eyes closed, as he traced kisses down your neck. "I have something for you."

"Mhm, I'm sure you do..." he mumbled as he tried to kiss you again, but you placed your hands on his chest giving him a little push. He groaned, making you chuckle, but obliged.

"Come with me. But first, let's get you out of this jacket." he raised his eyebrows in wonder, but let you slid your hands down his arms to undress him.

You took his hand and led him to the living room where you sat him down on the couch. He looked up at you with his big eyes. You pressed a finger against his lips, disabling him from any words of protest.

"Now, be a good boy and wait for me to get ready." he quickly nodded his head looking up at you and not even blinking.

You smiled and ran a finger across his jawline. You went to the bathroom where you had already prepared a set of lacy lingerie and a robe. You touched upon your hair and makeup real quick before going back to the living room and played some sensual music to set the mood. Since you were coming from behind him, the sudden noise caused him to snap his head to the right. You walked over to him, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"It's me." you whispered into his neck before planting a soft kiss. You felt him tense, smiling satisfactorily to yourself.

You walked around the couch in front of him to see that he has also gotten comfortable. He was sitting back on the couch with his dress shirt half undone and arms and legs spread open. You bit hard on your lower lip. Shit, you should be the one in charge here, but seeing him on display like that made you want to commit to him instantly. You tried not to let that distract you from what you have planned to do. With regained confidence, you walked forward a bit. His eyes scanned you from head to toe and you noticed his breath deepening.

"You look amazing, babygirl." he breathed, his eyes lingering on your figure.

You started playing with the rope that was loosely keeping your robe together while walking even closer to him.

"You think so?" you asked, voice low, as you stood in between his legs now, towering over him with your robe fully open.

"Y-yes." his eyes fell from your face to your chest.

"Good." you smirked, straightening yourself and walking away from him.

You took the robe off of your shoulders and looked over at him, back still facing him. Shimmying your way out of the rest of it, you tossed it away and turned to fully face him. His breath hitched now that you were standing half exposed in front of him.

"Now," you started as you slowly made your way back to him "we are going to set some ground rules."

"Mhm," he licked his lips "and what are those, babygirl?" he reached to touch you and bring you closer to him, but you stopped him halfway.

"First one is," you said as you got a hold of his wrists "you can look, but you can't touch." you pinned his hands on each side of him. "And the second," you leaned closer to his face and brought a knee up to his crotch and started working it. "you can't get hard."

"You're making some impossible rules, honey." he let out a shaky laugh.

"If you do, I'll stop." you stopped moving your knee just to make the point even more clear. He gulped and nodded. "Good boy." George loved praise, you could see his eyes rolling back.

You let go of his hands and walked away from him once more. He adjusted himself on the couch, spreading his arms on the back of it as if to say come and get me.

Oh, and I will George Russell, you just wait.

You unclasped your bra and put a hand over one cup to keep it in place while slowly removing the straps off your shoulders. George's gaze darkened as you stood there with your bra being loosely supported with just your hands. You shimmied a bit, moving only your upper body, before you let the bra just fall off. He took a deep breath in, his eyes travelling all over your naked torso as if he's seeing it for the first time. His fingertips started dancing on the couch surface and you knew he was itching to touch you.

You flashed him a smile and took your time walking back to him, one foot in front of the other. Once you were near him, you looked at him with intention. His lips were slightly apart and his chest visibly moving up and down. Your eyes roamed around his body for a bit before you looked into his eyes again with a smirk. You crouched down in front of him, placing your hands on each of his knees. You moved your hand up, caressing his thighs, feeling his muscles twitch under your palms, over his stomach and up his chest to his shoulders. You straightened up and placed your legs on each of his sides, straddling him, but not sitting on his lap. He licked his lips and you felt his breath hit your chest.

"Please..." he looked at you with hooded eyes.

"Please what baby?" you slowly swayed your hips, playing with his collar and teasing him.

"Please, let me kiss you." he breathed, closing his eyes.

You leaned your face forward and he was ready, ready to capture your lips with his, but in the last moment you changed direction, grazing over his cheek with your lips to his earlobe.

"No can do, babe." you whispered and noticed he was gripping the sofa rest which made you chuckle in his ear.

As quickly as you got on, you got off him. You walked away unbothered, but not as far as before. You took your time, sensually moving your body to the rhythm of the music, giving him something to look at. You played with the ends of your thongs before you bent down and took them off completely without previous warning. You could hear him take a sharp breath in.

"Shit, baby..." he gasped at the sight in front of him.

You gave him a quick glance over my shoulder, your body still bent down. You stepped out of your panties, gave him a little bit more of a slow dance before you made your way backwards to him. You sat on the couch in between his legs with your back still turned to him. You started working your hips against him, leaning back over his chest and feeling his breath on your neck. Soon, you could feel something hard pressing on your lower back. You stopped moving and got up.

"No, come back..." he pleaded.

You turned around and looked at him. He was in desperate state, his head hanging back and unable to control himself any longer.

"You broke the rule, baby. I told you I would stop."

"I know, I'm sorry..." he was almost panting. "I'll try to behave, just please..." he was completely at your mercy now.

You pretended to give it a thought when you already knew what you were going to do next. You went back to him, straddled him, but still not sitting fully on his lap.

"That's all nice to hear, but I still think I'll have to punish you, baby." you whispered in his ear.

"Yes," he started rapidly nodding his head. "you can punish me. You can do whatever you want with me. Please." his breathing was heavy.

And then finally, you sat your ass on his lap. He did soften a little.

"Oh my god..." he groaned and you guessed that was a sigh of relief.

You started grinding your hips against him. You knew he wouldn't last much longer and it didn't matter anymore.

"Shit, baby, I don't know how much longer I can put it off..." he started squirming like he was trying to get away from you. You stopped moving to let him catch some breath.

"It's okay, George. It doesn't matter anymore." you caressed a side of his face.

"It doesn't?" he looked at you in wonder.

You shook your head, cupped his face and kissed him. His body prompted up, but then stood still unsure should he move or not.

"It's okay, George, you can touch me now." you smiled against his lips.

"I-I can?" he stuttered and you nodded your head. "Wow, I, uh, I don't know where to start." he nervously laughed.

"Let me help you a bit." you chuckled and took his hands. "You can start here." you placed them on your waist and his fingers curled around your warm skin. His palms started moving up your sides, over your boobs and around your neck. "It's your reward for doing so good. You've been so good to me, George." you said, feeding his praise kink and losing yourself in sensation his touch was giving you.

"You are so perfect, babygirl." he whispered against your lips before closing the gap between you.

Soon you started making out and your hips thrusted on their own. His hands were all over your body, grabbing your boobs, pinching your nipples, squeezing and slapping your ass. He placed kisses down your jaw and neck, over your chest to your boobs. He sucked and nibbed on your nipples while you were going crazy on top of him. You could even feel him grow again from under you.

"George..." you breathed, your fingers lost in his hair. He parted from you and licked his lips.

"Should we move this to the bedroom?" he looked up at you.

Unable to speak, you just nodded your head. He wrapped his arms around you firmly and lifted you up. Your legs immediately curled around his waist and he carried you to the bedroom. He softly put you down on the bed, towering over and admiring you.

"I've waited all night for this." his hands caressed your body. "And you had some nerve teasing me." he smirked.

"Was it worth it?" you asked.

"It was so worth it, babygirl. You were so good for me." he started leaving pepper kisses down your body as he spoke. "You were so good, babygirl, it would be a shame not to reward you." he kissed down your stomach, sinking lower and lower.

You gulped. He put his hands on your knees and spread them open. He begun kissing his way in on one leg and then the other. You gasped when you felt him suck on the skin of your inner thigh. He knew you loved marks and hickeys. He pulled away, admiring his work.

"It's gonna look so beautiful in the morning, babe." he then moved his attention to your core. "Ooh, babygirl, you don't even need much preparing. All this wetness just for me?" he chuckled and slid his fingers over your center.

You moaned at the contact. He proceeded to circle his fingertips around your clit, drawing figure eights, going slow then faster until you were a whining mess.

"Oh, George, please..." you panted.

"Please what, babygirl?" he perked up.

"Please... Finger me, please." you barely choked out.

"If that's what my babygirl wants, my babygirl gets." he pushed one finger inside of you and your eyes rolled back. He fingerfucked you with one hand and teased your clit with the other. You were only able to moan his name at that point.

"More," you uttered somehow.

"What? What was that?" he urged you to repeat yourself.

"More, George, please..." you cried.

"Oh, my babygirl is ready for more." he smirked as he slid another finger inside. You let out a moan and arched your back. He was so good with his fingers. "I think you're ready." before you could ask him what he meant by that, you already felt the warmth of his mouth closing in on you.

You squirmed and your legs automatically shut he needed his arm to keep them open. He sucked and lapped his tongue around you, his fingers picking up the pace. He knew you were reaching your climax as your moans grew louder and louder.

"Are you going to be a good girl and come for me, babygirl?" he asked in between licks.

"Yes..." you gritted, pulling on his hair, your hips uncontrollably going up and down, grinding on his face.

"Then do it." he commanded and you released. You came all over his fingers. "Oh, baby, look at the mess you made." he said, removing out and showing you his dripping fingers. You could only pant and look at him in your bliss. "You did so good. I'm so proud of you." he leaned forward to kiss you.

You kissed for a while and you took that to your advantage. You flipped you over, where now you were on top and had him crucified under you. He laughed, loving the way you played the dom. You circled your hips just to see how he was doing down there, but there was no need. You could already feel him. You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, tossing it behind and attacking his torso with kisses until you reached his waistband. You palmed his bulge with one hand and undid the button with the other. You took the zipper between your teeth and pulled it down, keeping eye contact. That had George roll his eyes back and rest his head on the mattress. In quick motion, you had both his pants and boxers pulled down and his member standing straight in front of you.

Even after two years, his size continues to surprise you. You took it in your hands, giving it a few pumps before you licked him all the way from the shaft to the tip. George threw his head back once again, moaning. You circled your tongue around his tip before fully taking it in your mouth. He audibly gasped. His fingers quickly removed your hair that fell forward, giving you more access. You bobbed your head up and down, still warming up to take him all the way in while George was gripping your hair and giving praises left and right. You looked up at him through your lashes. The boy was in another dimension right now. Well, you were about to send him to another one. You took a deep breath in, preparing yourself for what is about to come, and sank your head down all the way to his balls. He moaned so loud you thought neighbors from the building across the street could hear him. He held your head in place for a few moments before letting you lift your head up. You took a much needed breath before you could start working on him again, but he stopped you.

"No, no, no," he whined and cupped your face "if you do that again I'll be coming down your throat in five seconds. And I want to fuck you." he kissed you. "I need to fuck you. I need to feel you. Now." he kissed you again.

You nodded and reached for the nightstand drawer. You pulled out a condom, ripped it open with your mouth and rolled it onto George's dick. You positioned yourself above him and slowly slid down. You both let out a shaky breath when the tip disappeared inside of you. He held your hips, guiding you further down.

"There we go, baby, all the way in. You're taking it so well." he moaned when you fully sat on him.

You rocked your hips back and forth before you started bouncing up and down. You took George's hands and made him hold your boobs while you rode him. Your movements started to slow down a little and he noticed, making you lay on his chest while he took over. He thrusted into you until you could no longer even form moans. Your mouth just silently hung open. Soon that pit in your stomach started forming again as you were reaching your second orgasm of the night. You dig your nails into George's shoulder.

"You close?" he breathed. You could only nod your head in response. "I feel it, you're clenching around me." he hissed and fastened his movements. "On three?" you nodded your head again and he kissed your temple as he begun to countdown.

On three you both finished at the same time. You plopped down on George's chest with your full weight, catching your breath. He caressed your hair, his cock still twitching inside of you.

"You did so good, baby." he kissed the top of your head. "Thank you for tonight."

You prompted yourself up just enough to face him. "No, thank you. You've been amazing the whole day today. Sending flowers to my work place and the gift waiting for me in the apartment." you traced your finger across his face.

"I try to give you everything, babygirl." he kissed the back of your hand.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Now, let's get cleaned up and go to bed, okay?" he removed a strand of your hair and kissed you quickly.

You giggled and nodded your head. He picked you up in his arms once again and carried you to the bathroom.

[oxblooddraws]

Moths ago I did a swap au that I unfortunately forgot about it, until I recently saw some old unfinished wips on my folder… But, I didn’t like some things about it so I redrew and rewrote some aspects of it. More explanation under the cut.

Ok, just like before the Boiling Isles are afraid of the humans and the human realm in general, as they believe that humans are vile and evil creatures that want the destruction of witch kind so, they try to not have any connections with.

The people of the isles have perpetually stayed in a 15th, 16th century lifestyle for centuries.

The Boiling isles have been ruled by the empire for 400 years. Who tries to secure the peace of the isles by destroying or foreclosing every human artifact that comes on the Boiling isles and everyone that gets caught of even possessing the smallest one are branded as criminals and sentenced to a lifelong prison or worse execution.

Lilith and Eda are the second in Command to the Emperor and capture anyone that violates the law.

Philip and the Collector are living in the outskirts of the word in the forest with the Bat Queen and the other Palismen. Philip is known to people as the Palisman Keeper, mysterious being that scares away anyone that dares to go into the forest.

Luz gets to the Boiling isles accidentally by a titan blood pool in Gravesfield and after a while she stumbles into Philip and TC, who take her and try to find a way to get her back home. So Luz tries “blend in” as witch named “Luzura” . But, unfortunately for her a rumour that a human has appeared in the Boiling isles has already spread…

This au is going to have a different name than previously had,but I haven’t thought anything yet, so for now it’s vague.

I also may delete the old au later on..

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Together Bound In Madness - Part 5

Summary:  Sometimes ignorance is bliss...

A/N: This particular piece of work wasn’t meant to see the light of day and live its life in my WIP folder…it was supposed to….

Then I mentioned to @ken-dom that I might share and well…here we are…what can I say y'all? She’s mad encouraging and I love her dearly for it. Without her none of these would exist.

As always, this NSFW 18+ and has a few extra warnings attached; a kidnapping trigger warning being the biggest one, and approach this one with some caution....it's consensual so it's not technically rape, but the situation could make some uncomfortable.

The title comes from the Marianas Trench song The Killing Kind

Y'all should know by now I rarely post one shots…..so yeah, this will be multiple parts….I’m just not sure on the final tally yet. You can find previous parts here.

The last time I posted anything was back in August, so I figured I was due....

Enjoy my loves! <3 

His cock was straining painfully against the zipper of his jeans.  You were sprawled out in front of him in nothing but a pair of pink panties. He could feel you watching him, watching his eyes and his hands. He had kept his gloves on on purpose, but when he saw what you had done to yourself while he’d been gone, when you had flinched at his touch, but not like before, this time was different. He had to feel you, had to really touch you.

With his heart thudding hard in his chest, he reached to hook his fingers around the waistband of your panties; his cock twitching hard as he watched his dragging fingers leave goosebumps on your pelvis in their wake. You weren’t cold, you were flushed, your lips bright red and swollen from having been bitten and chewed on. 

He had just wanted to make you comfortable, he hadn’t meant to get blood on your clothes; but then he found himself admiring your nakedness. Wanting to drink in every inch of you. God, you looked fucking beautiful tied to his bed. 

He stood at the foot of the bed, as he pulled the underwear off your ankle and his heart skipped a beat as he realized, they were wet; not damp, wet. You were turned on by this, by him. 

He studied the patch that was darker than the rest, where they had been resting against your core. He balled the panties in both hands, gripping them so tightly his knuckles turned white with effort before he closed his eyes and brought them to his nose, inhaling as deeply as his lungs would allow. His nose buried deep in the folds of the fabric, consumed completely by you. 

You were better than any drug; intoxicating. You were dangerous. 

His head was swimming as his knees nearly collapsed out from under him. A deep guttural moan escaped from the back of his throat before he finally dropped his hands; his jeans with a fresh dark stain on his thigh. 

“Kiss me”

His head snapped up, realizing you had seen what he had done; had watched him. 

He wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly 

“What?” His voice was soft, almost foreign to his own ears, but he hadn’t missed the crack of uncertainty in his question 

You were breathing hard, your voice shaking as you spoke again “Kiss me.”

He didn’t move, just stood at the foot of the bed, processing your words. 

“Please” 

One simple word. One simple word that you had spoken so quietly had it not been silent he wouldn’t have heard. But you had sounded so desperate, so needy. 

He found himself kneeling on the bed, pushing your legs apart with his knee as he moved closer; his dirty clothes leaving streaks of red in their wake. His fingertips trailing lazily up the length of your leg as he moved. Your arms still bound above your head, his fingers curling softly around your forearm, careful to avoid your bloodied wrists. 

You moved to crane your neck, desperate to reach his lips, but he pulled back, his hand gripping your arm tightly, the other hand sliding between your thighs; his slender fingers teasing your folds, making you gasp and try to arch into his touch. 

His breath was warm against your face, but he was just far enough away that you couldn't reach. 

You whimpered helplessly as he coated his fingers. Watching you writhe underneath him, desperate for his touch, almost made him cum a second time, but he couldn't, he wouldn't, not yet. 

He had only planned to coat his fingers, when he glanced up and noticed your eyes closed, your face contorted in pleasure, feeling your arm move in his grip as you pulled at the rope, he couldn't help himself. He slowly slid his middle finger inside you, his eyes focused on watching it slowly disappear until you moaned above him, bucking your hips forward, he looked up, your eyes squeezed shut tighter, your lips pressed together hard as you fought to keep yourself quiet. 

This only spurred him on, his eyes fixed on you as he added a second finger, curling them both gently as he started to pump them in and out. 

You were struggling to keep quiet. His own cock growing hard again, fighting against the confines of his jeans. 

He shifted just enough to balance, just long enough to release himself. His cock aching, the tip glistening with precum; a thick bead dripping and landing on your stomach. 

He moved his hand to grip your hip as he leaned over you, his fingers pumping with ease. 

“Do it,” he whispered, leaning closer, his fingers pushing deeper. “I want to hear you”

Your knees squeezed together, and you arched your back moaning to the ceiling, not able to suppress it any more. 

You whined as he pulled his fingers free from being clenched around your walls.  

He took his glistening fingers, coating his pulsing length with a soft moan as those same  fingers curled around his shaft, pumping slowly. 

It wasn't long before he picked up his pace, his bare hand covered in a mixture of your slick and his precum. 

His eyes watched as you gripped the ropes around your wrists hard. 

You twisted underneath him, desperate for the kiss you had pleaded for and still hadn't gotten. His fingers bruised your hip painfully as he felt your heels dig into the mattress behind him. He looked down at you, with a soft moan, his tongue running between his lips. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. You were looking up at him, breathing hard. His cock twitched in his hand, even more precum leaking from the tip. 

He closed the gap between you, his lips sealed over yours as he stroked himself faster. Your lips moved against his as he sighed against your mouth. His tongue sliding against yours as you let out a moan, the headboard groaning with effort as you pulled hard on your restraints, ignoring the excruciating pain in both your wrists, hungry for more. 

His teeth bite hard on your bottom lip. Hard enough to draw blood, making you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut. 

He finally lets go and you let out a delicious whine. His teeth scrape over your chin as his head drops, his mouth latching onto your neck eliciting another whimper from you as he bites hard. 

His cock twitched hard, his strained groan echoing against your throat as he gripped your hip so hard you thought it might break under the weight of his hand. His seed spilling across your chest and down your stomach. 

You thrashed under him, as the continuous rope of his release coated your entire front. He gasped with effort as it seemed like it wasn't going to stop. 

He breathed hard, his slick covered hand bracing himself against the headboard to keep from collapsing on top of you. 

Your own breath was shaky and laboured. Your thighs were wet with your arousal, your body shaking, your cunt throbbing with the need to be touched. For the need to find your release.  

He climbed off of you, tucking himself back into his blood soaked, cum stained jeans and you whimpered as he turned on his heel. 

“No, p-please”

He turned around a half step, but didn't speak. Your chest was heaving, tacky drying blood had run down your wrists and part way down your arms.

You were flushed and breathless; covered in his release. A darkening hickey on your throat, your lip fat and bloody from where he'd bitten you, losing control. But, he would make you make that noise again, next time on purpose. You had streaks of blood from where his own clothes had made contact with your skin. 

He walked back over to where you laid, watching your eyes follow him as he moved. 

He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on the foot of the bed. 

He reached, running his index finger from your belly button, through the mess on your torso, and up between your breasts before he lifted his finger, bringing it to your lips. 

He watched hesitation cross your features  before you parted your lips. He pushed his coated finger across your bottom lip as your mouth closed around his digit, your tongue swirling around, sucking it clean before he pulled it free with a small pop.  

His stomach clenched as he was struck with a new thought. Your mouth was warm and wet around his finger. He wondered how good it would feel wrapped around his cock. 

He hummed with anticipation at the thought before he turned back toward the bathroom. 

“Hungh” you whimpered, squeezing your thighs together, desperate to alleviate the ache. Desperate to feel the slightest bit of friction. 

He wouldn't leave you like this, he couldn't. 

Your wrists throbbed painfully as you sighed not really able to do much else, your clit throbbed, begging you to push yourself over the edge. Your tongue coated in the salty remnants of his release. The remainder drying quickly on your front.

Your racing heartbeat finally started to return to normal. 

After a few minutes he reappeared his hair damp from a shower, a fresh pair of jeans on; the fly was zipped, but the button was still undone. His chest was bare. 

You watched as he set a bunch of tools out on the table, and something else you could only assume was relevant to a car. 

Neither of you spoke, you watched as he collected what he needed and sat at the small table on the other side of the room. He acted as if you didn’t exist, as if you weren’t lying naked, bound to his bed, battered and bloody. 

Finally you sighed, not able to stand the silence anymore. “I’m not  good at being ignored,” you said simply. 

He only glanced in your direction before turning back to whatever he was working on. 

“I’m not going back to the silent treatment…” 

He carried on working, paying you no mind; chewing thoughtfully on the end of a toothpick. 

Without warning, you let out a shrill high pitched scream. 

He slammed the screwdriver in his hand down on the table before getting to his feet as your voice cracked with effort. He stalked over to the edge of the bed and without a word, and backhanded you so hard, the coppery taste of blood filled your mouth as your scream was abruptly cut off, your head snapping sharply to the side before he gripped your jaw hard enough that his fingernails left half moon welts in your cheeks as his hand covered your mouth; forcing you to look at him. You glared back. 

His eyes flared with anger as he pointed a finger at you. “Shut your fucking mouth.” 

You knew you weren’t in the greatest position to be playing with fire at this point….but if he was going to kill you anyway… 

He pulled his hand back when you sighed heavily out your nose; a bruise already starting to form on your cheek where his knuckles had landed. 

“Afraid someone’s going to hear?” you sneered and to his surprise he shook his head. 

“It’s soundproofed” he muttered as he turned on his heel so nonchalantly it made your heart skip a beat as the realization dawned on you; nobody heard you, because they couldn’t. 

You spoke again, trying to keep your voice even, and push the fear creeping back in at bay. 

“You know, when a guy can’t get a girl off; she tells her friends about it, right?” 

He stopped mid stride for a beat, but he didn’t turn around, just continued on back to the table. 

“You’re sick, you know that?” You asked quietly; your eyes trained on his bare back; watching the muscles move as he turned to look back at you over his shoulder. 

“And you liked it, so what’s that say about you?”  he retorted before he sat back down at the table. 

You sighed, dropping your shoulders as much as your position would allow. He was right, and he knew it. 

[midnightmarev]

Was rewatching Phil’s QSMP streams, specifically Deathduo streams (because they never got to see each other after the reset and qMissa doesn’t know his family went to Rose’s sanctuary and did a long sleep ueueue), and what better place than to start with that first day he and Missa had Chayanne? Something I noticed when they gave him a sword and he went after Spreen was, lightning stuck. On a sunny day. Multiple times. On Chay. Or rather, close by him and towards his targets, Charlie and Mariana being one of them, when he one time was looking down below them where they lived at the time and lightning kept striking, as if Chayanne was trying to hit them with it. So… that’s where this AU came from. Yes, I am actually gonna write this out into a proper story. Have a title and starting sentence and everything. Pls don’t steal this, it’s one of my babies. I have so many wips in my folder lmao. Anyway, happy reading!

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

Chayanne has the power of lightning at his disposal. He doesn’t know it’s not normal until he’s adopted by his dads, Philza and Missa, and sees their reactions to him summoning lighting at Tio Spreen when he hit him the first day. They don’t know it was him, the men too stressed about being thrust into parenthood to really think about what happened, probably chucking it up to the weird things happening on the island. He sees how scared they are for him when lightning strikes close to him, to protect himself, how protective they get and fuss to get him home, that he realises it might be better if he just… keeps it in. Doesn’t let them know it was actually him.

After a few months of having been adopted by his dads, he slowly works up the courage to tell his Dad Phil about what he can do. Chay’s a little warrior, after all, and he wants to protect his siblings the best he can, and his powers would help him with that goal, surely Dad Phil, the seasoned warrior he is, will recognise this and not be scared of Chay, or start hating him, right?

And then the binary entity starts attacking his siblings who still have two lives. And he realises something. The monster summons lightning storms every time it attacks. Lightning striking with too much precision to be a coincidence. That revelation scares him. He’s too much like the creature that is a danger to his siblings. If he tells Dad Phil now, surely the man will start despising him. Everyone will, even Lullah, once they know because Dad Phil will surely tell them about the monster living under his roof.

So Chayanne keeps it in.

Keeps a big secret that no one knows about, not even his other half, his little Lullah. He doesn’t want her to be scared of him. What if he actually was a code, just disguised as a kid, and that was the reason he could summon lightning? He would be such a danger to everyone!

But keeping it in for too long serves him no good. He starts sleeping more. Sometimes days at a time with no one able to wake him up. Dad Phil is worried. He doesn’t know what’s happening with his son. Chayanne doesn’t either. Not until he wakes up groggily, alone, during the afternoon while Dad Phil is out with Lullah doing her tasks. There’s static in the air, and when he looks at his hands after rubbing sleep from his eyes, little electric lines appear between his fingers and suddenly he’s wide awake.

Keeping his powers in, burying them deep, made them bottle up. He hurts. He can’t keep them in for much longer. He has to leave!

And he runs away.

When he’s far enough away from where anyone lives or has little bases, he lets go.

One massive lightning bolt summons on him and many smaller ones strike the ground around him.

It doesn’t hurt, not really. Not anymore. But the buildup that just got released was too much for his little body and he passed out from the exertion.

The rest of the islanders see the lightning in the distance and start bringing their children home to safety. Lightning equals code attack, after all. Better safe than sorry.

Every child is accounted for. Well, at least until Philza returns home with his daughter and sees an empty bed where his son was sleeping when they left that morning. He frantically looks around the bunker, the kitchen, and the side room. Nothing. No sign of Chayanne.

Immediately he goes outside again, making sure Lullah stays inside, worried as she is, and pulls out his communicator.

He asks around if Chayanne may have gone to them after he woke up sometime during the day, but with no luck. No one has seen the little boy all day. They ask if everything’s alright. Phil doesn’t want to worry them and doesn’t want to fear the worst. He says they are just playing hide and seek. They’re not.

Phil looks into the distance where all the lightning came from and steels himself. If the code has his son, he is going on a rampage. The Angel of Death will take to the skies once more.

But first, he needs proof that something’s happened. So, he goes in the direction the lightning struck. No rain happened, just the lightning, which is odd. Something at the back of his mind tucks at that, something familiar that he can’t place. There was also no ping in the communicators that someone was downed or killed, so Chayanne has to still be alive.

What is happening?

Eventually, he arrives at a clearing far away. Scorch marks litter the ground, but his focus is solely on the biggest one. Because in the middle of that, lies his son.

Phil runs to his side, listening for his heartbeat, and quickly finding it. It’s not beating as strongly as it usually is. Phil is worried. What happened to his son?

Phil wants to bring him home, but it is far, and Phil doesn’t know what happened, and doesn’t know if moving him would hurt him, so he stays. He gently combs through the little boy’s hair with his taloned hand as if he were grooming delicate feathers.

He stays like that for hours, just waiting until his boy would wake up. He shoots a message to Fit asking if he could check on Lullah and if she has gone to bed, saying something came up that he had to take care of, so he had to leave in a hurry. Fit complies easily with his request, his old friend not even questioning him about the urgent matter.

Eventually, Chayanne wakes up. And he is not alone. He instantly recognises the hand combing through his hair and chokes up.

“Chayanne? Are you awake?” his dad whispers hesitantly, and Chayanne just starts sobbing, launching himself into his Dad Phil’s arms, hiding his face in the man’s chest. “Oh, Chayanne. What happened?” Dad Phil’s voice is so gentle as he hugs him, trying to soothe the crying boy, too gentle than anyone should be to a monster.

Chayanne just shakes his head. He knows he’ll have to answer his dad’s questions eventually, but he is selfish. He wants comfort, warmth and kindness just this one last time until his dad realises what a monster he is.

What the boy doesn’t know is how his dad won’t care about what he can do. He doesn’t care that it is similar to the creatures that kill children. Because that is not how Chayanne is. His powers don’t make him a monster. Actions do. And Chayanne would never do anything that would make him a monster.

But all that is for later. For now, a father is comforting his son.

[statustemporary]

free fallin' - Chapter 2

STORY SUMMARY: On a dark and stormy Halloween night 27 years ago, five people stepped onto an elevator. They never stepped off.

Now 28, Emma Swan and her son Henry work together to discover what caused her parents and the other inhabitants to suddenly disappear.

//rewrite of previous work, expanded to a multi-chapter.

RATING: Teen+

WORD COUNT: 3,564

TAGS: Captain Swan, Tower of Terror AU, CSSNS 2022, Graphic Depictions Of Terrifying Sights in Chapter 1, no beta we die like killian jones,

AO3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: ha ha... oops. it's been two years since i updated this. life's crazy and my passion for ouat has faded but i'm determined to finish all my posts WIPs and maybe get my WIP folder on my laptop emptied onto here. i'm trying.

this has changed drastically from the film, mainly because i messed things up in the first chapter but oh well lol. similar premise but obviously things are a free-for-all now in my story. wish me luck trying to finish this lol.

not really sure how i'm feeling about this chapter so i'm sorry in advance if it doesn't live up to expectations! here's to the next one eventually!

enjoy!

***

Uncle James lives in a swanky townhouse just a few blocks from the heart of Storybrooke. The front windows of the place have a magnificent view of the hills in the distance while the back windows peered out at the Hollywood Tower Hotel like a taunt.

Emma hated growing up there.

The entire place felt too modern and unlived. Uncle James refused to have any sentimentality in his living space. No art projects on the fridge, no souvenirs from trips, and definitely no family photos. The farthest he went with décor was a floating shelf of ratty books in Latin. She wondered if what happened that Halloween night 27 years ago haunted him and that’s why he refused any reminder of his twin. Did the mirror play just as cruel of a joke?

Oddly enough, she did stumble upon a picture of her mother in his bedside drawer when she was eight. Mary Margaret looked stunning, her degree placard from Harvard held tightly in her hand with a bouquet of flowers cradled in her opposite elbow. Her graduation gown was flowing in the wind and her smile was positively radiant.

Uncle James caught her looking at the photo and he ripped it from her grasp. She never saw it again.

Not much about the townhouse has changed over the years, including the man residing inside of it. Uncle James remains aloof and standoffish to the point Emma wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot he had a niece at all.

His car, a sleek black sports convertible, is parked out front and it feels promising, even if she dreads the upcoming conversation. It takes a great effort to place one foot in front of the other as she approaches the entrance, her feet feeling as heavy as lead. The sickening weight in her heels is the only thing to prevent her from running back to her car after pressing the doorbell.

Uncle James looks surprised and disappointed to see her on his doorstep. His shoulders visibly drop and his mouth ticks down in a frown. “Emma?”

She flashes a quick smile at him.

“Uncle James, hi. How are you?”

He cuts straight to the point, narrowing the opening of the door so that only a sliver of his body is visible. “What are you doing here?”

The sigh that leaves her lips makes him close the door another inch. “Can we talk inside?”

“Actually Emma, I’m about to leave for – ”

He’s wearing pajamas. And a bathrobe. She swallows down the anger that’s brewing, the almost two decades of resentment towards his willful absence, and steels her shoulders. “I need to talk to you about my parents.” That catches his attention.

Paranoia, or maybe it’s PTSD, seems to take over her uncle as he pales and ushers her inside his townhome, head ducking out the door and swiveling around before he slams it shut and locks it. He brings her to the kitchen and offers her some alcohol as he makes his own drink. She remembers being thirteen and him offering her some of his rum and coke when he realized they had no orange juice in the fridge. The drink disgusted her and he got angry when she spit it in the sink. They never ran out of orange juice after that.

“So…” he begins. His hands are tense where they’re splayed on the kitchen island’s marble countertop. There’s a wild gleam in his eyes that unsettles Emma but she doesn’t know where to place it. She knows reporters, both professional and amateur, have hunted her down and pressured her for a statement, an interview, anything. Had they done the same to her uncle? “What were you saying about your parents?”

“Do you remember that night?” she asks. Uncle James sighs and drops his head.

“I could never forget it.” Defeat thickens his voice as his shoulders grow rigid. He shudders and takes a deep breath before looking up at her. “What about it?”

Emma shifts in her seat. “Can you tell me about it? From your perspective?” He looks ready to deny her so she pulls out the card up her sleeve. “It’s for Henry. He’s doing a project in school.”

“Ah,” he murmurs. A shadow crosses over his face as he collects his thoughts. “There’s not much to say from what I saw, really. I arrived early because my polo club cancelled our game. I saw Mayor Mills, exchanged a few words about the party at the Tip Top Club. I was on the stairs with some fancy drink from the patio bar when I saw your parents head into the elevator. David and I hadn’t talked in a few months but Mary Margaret invited me to the party.” Emma feels herself soften as her uncle smiles absently as he remembers her parents. “Obviously she didn’t tell him I was coming and he was glaring at me. He still hadn’t moved on from our fight. I raised my glass to them, a peace offering. Then the elevator doors closed and that was it… That was the last time I saw them.”

“Did you see anything else that night?” she asks, leaning her elbows atop the island. “Anything strange or… unusual?”

He shakes his head as he looks down at his drink. Silence follows for a beat and then another and Emma’s afraid she’s lost her uncle to his memories of the past. “The lights went out not long after I saw them get on the elevator.” She nods. “Honestly, I thought people were crazy when they said all of them were cursed. I mean, magic?!” He huffs out a laugh of disbelief. A pause and then his face darkens. “If there’s any inkling to that notion, I’d wager on Regina.”

Huh. Emma’s brows pinch together as she mulls that sentence over in her head. The sudden drop of formality with the former mayor was odd. For all the time she lived with Uncle James, he never mentioned Regina before today, much less by name. He never mentioned any of the others either but the way he spoke now hinted at a history. A nasty one at that.

Her mouth opens to ask another question but Uncle James shakes his head and downs the remainder of his drink in one go. “I think it’s time you left, Emma. It was nice seeing you.”

He disappears around the corner to his bedroom at the back of the townhouse before Emma has a chance to say any departing words. Resigned, she gently places her cup in the dishwasher and sees herself out.

***

The late morning air hangs heavy around the hotel. Emma stands outside on the sidewalk, head tilted back as she takes in the massive structure. In reality, she never thought she’d come here, let alone twice in as many days. She checks her watch to confirm she has a few hours before Henry gets out of school. The last thing she wants is for him to be back here.

“Uh…” a voice sounds to her left and Emma turns just in time to see her son stop short, eyes widen, and his body swivel back the way he came.

“Henry!” she calls out in frustration. She watches his small body freeze and tense up as she comes upon him.

He grins small but innocently up at her. “Ha ha… Hi, Mom.”

“What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be in school today!”

“Well about that…” he laughs nervously. She says his name in warning and he winces, opening his mouth ready to spew an inventive explanation when they hear a creaking behind them.

The metal gate to the hotel opens slowly and the chain-link keeping it closed snakes down to the ground in an exhausted heap. She blinks rapidly at the scene before her, her mouth dropping open in shock. That… shouldn’t happen.

Maybe the chains were just rusted and finally gave way, she tried to reason with herself. Maybe LJ forgot to lock back up after everything yesterday.

So lost in her thoughts, Emma didn’t realize Henry had moved away until she saw his small figure squeezing through the open fence and running up the hill to the hotel. “Henry!” she yells out. Running is her thing – running away from emotions, commitment, the whole shebang. Apparently, her son inherited that from her, just literally.

The bottles of holy water in the pocket of her leather jacket are justled by her running up the driveway. Sage in her bag bumps against her hip. Her gun rests heavily in her holster.

Emma’s eyes scan the landscape furiously.

“Henry!” she calls out. She evens her breathing and rests one hand on her hip where her firearm rests in case some crazy person is behind all this and has Henry.

“Hurry up, Mom!”

Emma turns the last bend of the driveway and lets out a deep sigh. Henry stands in front of the entrance to the hotel bouncing on the balls of his feet. He impatiently waves her over, eyeing the locked front doors.

“You know,” she starts, “I think I should bring you to Granny’s right now. Let her watch over you and see if you try to skip school again.”

Henry whines, head thrown back in exasperation. “But Moooooom! These are your parents!”

“Henry, come on. You can’t really believe that.” Emma bends down in front of him and takes hold of his arms, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles even as her heart bleeds. “My parents disappeared so long ago… This can’t be them.”

“But it is!”

“Henry…”

“What about yesterday?! You believed it was their ghosts when they scared us out of here!”

“Ghosts don’t exist, Henry. How do you explain that, huh? Magic?” She deflates as her son mumbles to himself and looks to the ground. Softening her tone, she continues, “It would be really cool if magic was real but it’s not. Those are probably just projections some twisted loser made to scare people. Okay?”

“Are you calling us Jem and the Holograms?”

They jump at the sudden appearance of a third voice, their heads turning to see Killian Jones leaning halfway through the closed front door.

Emma’s breath stutters while Henry starts, “What the –”

“Tsk, tsk,” Killian taunts. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

She panics. Her hand flies to her bag and she pulls out the holy water, uncapping the bottle and surging the water towards the door.

It seemingly goes through his body, the blessed water streaming down the front door, but he jerks at the sensation.

Then Killian starts to groan, writhing in pain. The half of his body positioned through the door begins to curl in on itself as gurgling from his throat becomes audible. Emma stares – watching and waiting for smoke to sizzle from his frame or for him to disappear but nothing happens.

Until the gurgling changes sound and it becomes clear it’s transitioned into laughter.

Killian raises his head, smirking in glee. “Holy water? Really? I know I’m devilishly handsome but you didn’t really think that’d work.”

The photos never did his smirk justice, she realizes. And all she wants to do is smack it right off his face. With a growl, she stands up straight and marches right through Killian to the front door, pulling the spare key LJ gave her from her pocket.

“Chills, darling,” Killian whispers in her ear. The air shifts around her. Despite the absence of any breath ghosting over her skin, she can feel the way a smirk dances across his lips and the whole thing makes her angrier.

Click. The key sits just perfectly in the lock and the door swings open. She strides inside, Henry following excitedly behind her.

Her back straight as a rod, she places her hands on her hips and stares down the… beings in the hotel lobby.

“Not the friendliest lady, huh?” Killian drawls from behind her.

Henry takes immediate offense. “Hey, that’s my mom!”

“Apologies, lad,” Killian tosses carelessly over his shoulder as he heads towards the bar.

“Enough!” Emma calls out roughly. She narrows her gaze, her voice dropping an octave. “Who the hell is behind this?”

Regina sighs, sitting regally on a cobweb infested armchair in the center of the lobby. She examines her nails with more interest than her voice provides in an answer. “If she weren’t dead, I’d say my sister.”

“Regina!” Mary Margaret quietly admonishes from David’s side near the luggage cart.

“What?” Regina asks, her eyes thinning to slits and lips turning downward. “You’ve met the witch. A house should’ve fell on her sooner.”

“She was really a witch?!” Henry asks, practically bouncing in place from excitement.

Regina scoffs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she actually was.”

“Magic isn’t real,” Emma grits out. She moves just slightly in front of Henry, eyes flicking between the Jones brothers and Regina. “Now explain who is putting on this sick joke because they’ve got a nice harassment charge waiting for when I bring them down to the sheriff’s office. It’d be a pity to add evading arrest to that as well.”

“Well,” states Liam from where he’s reviewing a check-in book. “Once you find out, let us know. I’d like to have a chat with the lad as well.”

“Seriously,” she continues. She puts her hands on her hips to further assert her authority and presses hard enough that she’s sure the skin under her jeans is colorless. “This isn’t funny. Tell me.”

Killian tsks. The sound is quickly growing to be her most hated. “As pretty as you are to look at, lass, I think the peace and quiet was better. I’d have told you if I knew.”

David scoffs, crossing his arms. “Leave the girl alone, Jones. You’re nothing but a drunk – she wouldn’t waste the time with you anyway.”

There’s a shout of indignation from the other side of the room and then the entire lobby erupts into chaos. The Jones brothers jump to the other’s defense as David tosses insults back and forth. Regina adds her own one-liners to the disappointment of Mary Margaret. Their own disagreement drags David into it as well, and he manages to fight off both Regina and the Jones brothers as if a skilled swordsman against multiple enemies.

Words no longer decipherable, Emma subtly steps to the side, one eye on the group and the other searching, investigating. Caution rolls deep within her and she keeps one hand resting on her holstered firearm. Ghosts aren’t real. There’s no such thing. Holy water didn’t do a damn thing.

Sophisticated projector is what she’s looking for, then. They have to be holograms or AI or something that digitally recreated five tragically unsolved missing people, for the pure enjoyment of scaring others. She bets that there’s some YouTube channel that showcases Hollywood Tower Hotel scares, run by whoever is doing this.

Emma’s gaze scans the walls of the outdated hotel.

It didn’t hit her last time, too busy scared for their lives to really pay attention, but the floral wallpaper pulls from the moldings. The green background has faded and the white flowers accenting it yellowed. Burnt out lamps with golden shades sit atop wooden tables covered in layers of dust.

The sound of something rustling wafts through the air but the group of beings either don’t hear it or don’t care. If she follows the sound, though, she might find the ‘genius’ behind it all. Her eyes narrow on a closed oak door near the hallway to the main floor ballroom.

A once golden sign looks like a beat-up bronze, the fake bright finishing having flaked off over the years. Coat Closet. Likely place for someone to setup their gadgets.

The vinyl flooring crackles under her feet as she moves towards the it.

Her head turns at an echoing pair of footsteps and a quick glance back confirms Henry treads closely behind.

The wooden door swings open with a creak. Emma splays her hand against the rough wallpaper and feels around until she hits the light switch. Flickering yellow light fills the cramped space. Pink wool carpet stained from age and buckling wood paneling buried behind huge swaths of clothing greet them first before the smell of must hits their noses.

Henry shrieks and jumps back at the sight of a large rat scurrying over fraying paper and escaping through the lobby.

Great. Nothing in the closet except a rat and leftover coats from that night…

Emma was only a baby when her parents disappeared on Halloween night at the Hollywood Tower Hotel. Grandma Ruth, overwhelmed in her grief, packed up all of their things and tucked them away in a storage unit out of town. Out of sight didn’t mean out of mind, though, and Emma served as a reminder of her broken heart every day, until she couldn’t handle it anymore and went into an eternal sleep.

By the time Emma was old enough to know and inquire about her parents’ things, Grandma Ruth’s storage unit had been auctioned off due to lack of payments.

Aside from a small box of things brought to her Uncle James’ place alongside her diaper bag, everything her parents owned was gone.

Being at the hotel, at the place where she lost them before she could even know them, Emma wants something to hold of theirs. The only thing she has of her mother’s is a pink cardigan, left at Granny’s apartment during a dinner once. Soft, powdery fragrance once enveloped the fabric but has long since faded. Now the small cardigan hangs on her coat rack as a reminder of what is so far from her grasp.

But maybe… maybe in this place seemingly suspended in time… she could have something.

Her eyes have studied the photographs of the night well enough that, once she looks towards the coats, she immediately recognizes the red scarf.

Tucked around the neck of a shimmering floor-length dark coat, the red scarf sticks out in a sea of navy and black. It calls to her and Emma’s fingers slowly reach out. The coat ticket says 191, the black jacket kept close stating 192 most likely belonging to her father.

The fabric is cool to the touch and though spiders and moths have left their mark elsewhere in the hotel, the state of the coat closet is pristine. Could it hold the smell? The perfume Emma has spent half her life looking for? The only thing that reminds her of her mother’s embrace. Of comfort and security and love.

She pulls both coats off the hanger and holds her mother’s up, her nose nearly to the scarf –

“Hey!” Henry calls from behind her.

Emma turns swiftly, her eyes locking in on the beings crowding their way towards them. Her hand shoots out and grabs Henry’s arm, pulling him swiftly behind her.

“Hey,” Mary Margaret echoes quietly. Her brows furrow together as she takes in the sight before her. “That’s my coat.”

Mary Margaret’s hand reaches towards the coat but Emma jerks it back towards her, feeling oddly protective of the thing. The smell of the scarf hits her nose and she rustles the coats in her arms for a better grip, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

“Hey,” her watery voice sounding loud in the tight closet as the others look at her in wide-eyed shock. “Don’t crowd us in here. I’m – ”

“Emma,” David breaths out, her entire body deflating.

Emma blinks, hesitating for a moment. “David?” she asks. “You… remember?”

Tears flood his eyes as he gives her a soft smile. “Of course.”

A fluttering lightness fills Emma’s chest as he steps forward, smile still on his face.

It’s incredible, she thinks to herself. How her father could just know it was her despite all the time that had passed. Maybe this is his ghost and this is her closure.

Emma nearly drops the coats as her father takes another step…

Until he bends down onto one knee and picks something up from the floor. A polaroid.

“We’ve never been able to get in here,” David whispers, more to himself than to her and Henry. He stares at the polaroid as tears roll down his cheeks and a shaky hand comes up to cover his mouth. Mary Margaret leans in close, her own eyes filling, and she rests her head on his arm.

Acting every part the proud father, David shows the others what the polaroid is. “This is our daughter,” he begins, looking up with a wide, watery grin and turning the polaroid towards her and Henry.

The film is slightly overexposed and a person stands in the background more a blur than a defining figure. In the center stands, with help of the mystery figure, a small Emma barely a year old with a spattering of light hair atop her head and a gummy grin directed right at the camera.

“Her name is – ”

“Emma,” she finishes in a rushed, exhausted breath. Looked over by her own baby photo. Damn.

She clutches the coats tighter to her center and Henry looks up at her, confused. “But – ”

“We’re leaving.” Emma frees one hand to grab Henry’s arm and pulls him through the closet, through the ghastly chill of the projected beings in the hotel, and out the front door.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Survivor Blues

DEAD WOOD: JOEL'S POV

A/N: After far too long, this one is back in action! I have missed writing this story so darn much and it feels great to be back with these characters. This interlude has been living in my wip folder for a damn year, and I am really exciting to finally be sharing it. It takes place immediately following the events of Part Five, and it marks the first time that we get to see things through Joel's eyes in this universe. (It also alludes to some things that I haven't expanded on within this story yet, but that I am so SO excited to.)

Series Masterlist

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: language, mention of character death, loss, grief, trauma, brief description of injury, Ellie is a snarky teenager, PLOT SPOILERS FOR TLOU, feel free to message me if you have questions (it's actually a lot more hopeful than the title makes it sound)

Summary: Home from the supply run, Joel contemplates how far he's come since arriving in Jackson... and hopes that it will be the same for you. Tommy and Ellie - of course - have thoughts and opinions on things, too.

By the time Joel got home after a quick stop at the clinic, it was past seven, the house - and Ellie’s garage - both standing dark and empty against the beginnings of night. 

She must be out with friends. Good. 

It had taken a few years, but he was finally in a place where her absence didn’t immediately put him on edge. When they first settled into the house on Rancher Street, Joel would insist that Ellie stay at Tommy and Maria’s anytime he was gone overnight. Even the walls and the close knit community couldn’t fully satisfy that need to know that she was safe then. But now a note stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet telling him where she’d gone was more than sufficient. 

Which was exactly what he found when he entered the kitchen. Plucking the piece of paper from the fridge door and leaning against the counter, he read the girl’s hastily scrawled words. 

Joel, 

Not sure when you’re getting back but I might not be here when you do. Staying with some friends tonight and tomorrow. I’ll be home on Tuesday. Movie night - don’t forget!

-Ellie 

He chuckled to himself and shook his head. Like I’d ever forget movie night, kiddo. 

Getting that back - that time with her where they could just be a family, laughing together and watching some movie that was made fifteen years before she was born, that time that both of them desperately craved where they could put down all the things they carried and all the things they’d gone through even if only for 120 minutes at a time - that was a gift he would never take for granted. Her eventual forgiveness and understanding, once he’d finally explained his reasoning for the choices he made, was everything to Joel. And it was still fresh. The two of them were still awkwardly trying to find their way back to the kind of relationship they had before the lie came to light. But it was a chance that Joel never imagined he’d get, and it wasn’t one he would ever squander. 

He raised his hand to stick Ellie’s note back on the refrigerator door for now, but paused before using the same faded orange Longhorns magnet that she had used to secure it. Instead, he dug into his back pocket and pulled out a new one. Turning it over in his palm, Joel glanced down at the yellow letters spelling out Wyoming and remembered the look on your face when he handed you one identical to it that morning. 

It wasn’t really a smile, more like the framework of one, a hint of what it would look like fully fleshed out. It was different from the ones he’d seen you wear while working in the bakery or waving to someone on the street. Those were pleasantries that you were refamiliarizing yourself with. This one touched your eyes, softening them for a few seconds. It made Joel wonder what he unearthed with that small gesture - what part of your former life he’d been able to reach and awaken, at least partially. He didn’t bother with wondering what it meant that he’d taken an identical magnet for himself. 

With a sigh, he used the gas station souvenir to tack up Ellie’s note where he’d found it. Keeping his injured arm down at his side, he reached to open the cupboard next to the fridge and pulled down a glass and the bottle he kept there. He let out a grunt as he twisted the cap off, needing to use both hands to do so and being punished for the miniscule movement with a throb of discomfort through his bicep. Shit, that hurts. 

Though your work had held up just fine all the way back to Jackson, the wound had still garnered a hiss and a wince from the nurse on duty at the clinic. Using a cloth and clear grain alcohol, she’d carefully cleaned between and around the stitches, telling him that he was lucky he had someone with him who knew what they were doing, because the cut was deep and without closing it properly, he would have lost a lot more blood than he did. Slathering the area with an antiseptic cream, she re-wrapped his arm and sent him on his way, recommending that he not get the stitches wet for a good two days. 

Gonna have to stick my arm outta the shower I guess. First thing’s first, though. 

But before he could finish making himself a drink, he was interrupted by the call of his name. “Joel?” Tommy’s voice joined the stomp of his boots as he climbed the porch stairs and let himself through the front door. “Hey, Joel? Where-” 

I shoulda known he’d be over. 

Holly, the nurse at the clinic, was close friends with Maria. There was no way that she didn’t radio over to let Maria know that she’d just taken care of her brother-in-law. And that meant that Tommy knew, too. 

“Kitchen,” Joel answered, cutting his brother’s question short and reaching into the cupboard for a second glass. Setting it on the counter, he opened the freezer and scooped a few ice cubes into his palm before dividing them between the two tumblers. They clinked against the cut glass but fell silent as Joel poured a few fingers of whiskey in each, turning around in time to see Tommy appear in the doorway. “Hey, little brother.”

Tommy’s eyes were alert as he gave Joel the once over, his heightened focus settling on the bandage on his arm. “Shit, you alright? Holly said-” 

“M’fine, Tommy.” He picked up one of the glasses and handed it over, the younger man accepting it with visible relief. “Just a cut. Fell into some broken glass.”

Tommy raised one eyebrow. “You fell, huh?” 

Joel rolled his eyes with a gruff groan. “Couple’a infected caught us by surprise at the eye doctor. Nothin’ we couldn’t handle.” He leaned back against the counter and lifted his glass to his lips, taking a swig.

“Jesus.” Tommy took a drink, too, bending forward to rest his elbows on the island in the center of the kitchen. He set his glass down but kept his fingers around it, forehead furrowing as he spoke your name in the form of a question. “She’s alright, too? Holly didn’t say anything about-” 

Joel shook his head. “She’s fine, Tommy. Didn’t even have to stop at the clinic, so Holly didn’t see her.” He took another small drink, letting the rich amber liquid coat his tongue before swallowing. “She went straight back to her place from the stables.”

“Good.” Tommy nodded and blew out a breath, the last of the worry leaving his expression. “That’s good.” He cleared his throat and swirled the contents of his glass, watching the ice slide around the sides. “And uh… she did alright?” His eyes came back up then. “I mean, dealin’ with the infected and all?”  

Joel recalled the way you snapped immediately into action, shifting seamlessly from defense to attack, muscle memory taking over and guiding your blade exactly where it needed to go without hesitation. 

Alright’s an understatement. 

You’d had a moment of panic in the aftermath, but though Joel was certain that was what Tommy was asking about with the addition of “and all”, he decided not to consider it in his response. Your explanation was solid. No harm had been done, and he didn’t think it warranted mentioning. Nor did the fact that he had only been knocked through the glass display case because he’d glanced in your direction first to make sure you didn’t need help. 

We’re both fine. No point in worryin’ him over nothin’. She’s no more of a liability on a run than I am. She just… she needs time. Like we all did. 

“Yeah,” he answered, brows pinched together as he took another drink. He shrugged his bandaged arm out in front of him. “She even patched me up once we were in the clear.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Well, shit.” The tiniest twitch of his mustache gave away a hidden smirk, and he used the hand holding his glass to point at Joel. “You mean you actually let someone take care of you?” 

Joel rolled his eyes again. “Shut it, Tommy.” 

That got a laugh out of him, the younger man setting his glass on the island to lift both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just messin’ with you, big brother.” He smiled, a smaller chuckle slipping through it as his hands dropped to the counter. “Really, though.” He nodded. “I’m glad you’re both okay.” 

“Yeah.” Your near-smile flashed in Joel’s memory again as his eyes shifted to the magnet on the refrigerator. “Me too.” The kitchen fell silent for a handful of seconds, both men finishing their drinks before Joel spoke again. “Hey, do… do you remember that time you gave me a hand takin’ down the old oak tree in the yard?” 

Tommy blinked, clearly surprised by the question, but didn’t ask why Joel had brought it up. Instead, he tilted his head, brow furrowed as he sorted through his memories. The moment he dug the right one from its hiding spot, his expression changed. The creases in his forehead smoothed out and gave way to curved lines around his mouth as he broke into a smile. 

“Yeah.” He let out a huff of laughter, hanging his head and letting it shake from side to side before lifting it again. When he did he was still smiling, though there was a bittersweet shadow behind it. I know. You miss her too. “I remember us catchin’ hell for it.” 

We sure did. Joel tipped the bottle to fill both glasses with a half measure, then screwed the cap back on and put the bottle back in the cabinet it came from. 

The tree in question had been Sarah’s favorite. A swing hung from one of its branches, and Joel had tacked scraps of wood into the trunk that she used as footholds to scamper up so she could sit in the Y-shaped split in the center. And though she was only seven at the time, she had put up quite a fight when it came to taking it down. Joel could still picture the determined scowl on her face as she sat against the trunk. She had her scrawny arms crossed over her chest as she informed her father and her uncle that she wouldn’t let them kill her tree. What she didn’t know was that the tree was diseased, and that if left alone, not only would it become a safety hazard, but it ran the risk of infecting other nearby trees. 

He matched Tommy’s smile. “That girl all but tied herself to that damn trunk.” Joel always had the suspicion that if she had the time and an accomplice to help her with the knots, she would have. “She could be persistent, huh?” 

Tommy hummed. “Wonder where she got that from. What is it they say about apples again?” He laughed, but then curiosity got the better of him. “What…” He coughed to clear his throat. “What made you think’a that?” 

I’m gettin’ to it. “You remember how I had to prove to her that the tree was sick? Took my pocket knife and scratched the bark so she could see it was already dyin’ underneath?” She had gasped when the scratch test revealed a grayish, ashy underlayer, her eyes going wide and her bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill as her outrage instantly turned to fear for the other trees in the yard. “I had to scrape ‘em all, show her the rest of ‘em were still green and alive, even though they all looked the same on the outside.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed and he swallowed. “Yeah… Where you goin’ with this, Joel?” 

“I been thinkin’ about how it’s like that for people, too. It was like that for me. It was like that for me for a long time, Tommy.” Tilting the glass in his hand, he watched the amber liquid collect in the corner of it, shining gold through the cut crystal where the overhead light struck. “Scratch test came up gray for years. Thought I’d never really feel anything again… Thought I was done.” 

Straightening the glass, he let its contents slosh back to cover the bottom before bringing it to his lips and taking a sip. Honey and malt slid over his tongue, a subtle layer of smoke and spice following as he swallowed. Back in Boston, drinking wasn’t something he did for enjoyment or relaxation. It wasn’t for savoring or even tasting, really. Then he drank to forget. To sleep. To turn it all off. Here in Jackson though, he could share a drink with his brother and remember. 

Remember what life tasted and looked and felt like. Remember his daughter. Remember who he was beneath all the dead wood around his heart.  

“Yeah.” Tommy’s eyes were on his own glass, a frown pulling at his mouth and etching creases between his eyebrows again. “I know.” He cleared his throat and took a long swig, finishing his drink with a wince that cracked into a fool’s gold grin - one that Joel knew was covering feelings of guilt and empathy and other things Tommy still felt compelled to atone for even though Joel had tried his best to lay those things to rest in the years since their reunion. We were no good to each other like that, little brother. We would have just broken each other. I don’t blame you for leavin’. Not anymore. Tommy reached over, grin still stretched across his face but growing more genuine as he clapped Joel on the shoulder of his good arm. “But you ain’t done, you old fucker. Not yet.” 

That was thanks almost entirely to Ellie and they both knew it. The girl was determined, borderline relentless, same as Sarah had been with the tree. She had been the one to keep scratching, keep digging, keep checking for the hint of green under all that twisted, lifeless gray. And when she found it, all the things that he thought had disappeared started coming out of their dormancy.

Things like jokes and laughter. Memories. The capacity to care deeply for others again. Things like movie nights. The things that made surviving the worst worthwhile. 

It was also thanks in part to Jackson - and to Tommy and Maria for welcoming him and Ellie into their lives. Some days it terrified him, allowing himself to have so much to lose again. There were still times he worried that he had peeled back too many of those hardened layers. That he’d let his guard down too much, exposed his heart to happiness for too long and that it would all be lost to blight. But even on those days he knew what Tommy had just said to be true - that he wasn’t done yet. 

And neither is she. 

Joel spoke your name then, nodding solemnly. “I think it’s been like that for her for a long time, too.” 

Tommy sighed. “Yeah.” He finished his drink and walked over to set the empty glass in the sink. “I got that impression, too.” Turning around, he tilted his head to one side. “You said she was alright on the trip though. Somethin’ happen?” 

Joel took a breath in through his nose, letting it back out slowly. “Just…” He tapped his pointer finger absently against the glass he still held. “I think I saw that  in her. The green underneath. I think… bein’ here is… it’s helpin’ her.” Even if she’s got a long way to go. “It’s… she’s still in there.”  

You were. And Joel realized, for the first time since meeting Tess all those years ago in Boston, that he wanted to know that person - the person who showed him the hint of a genuine smile, the person who carefully and gently patched him up, the person who shared a coveted instant coffee packet with him to pass the time and stay warm on a chilly night. And that scares the hell outta me.  

“Well that’s-” Tommy’s smile had nothing but warmth behind it that time. “That’s real good to hear.” He stepped away from the counter and towards the kitchen door then, bringing his hands together. “Well, I’ll get outta here so you can get yourself cleaned up and all. Just had to make sure you were good after we heard from Holly.” 

Joel nodded, following him out into the living room. “Yeah. How’d you put it? Thanks for still givin’ a shit about me?” He heard his brother snort out a laugh before turning around to face him again. 

“Yeah, exactly.” He paused then, the joking smile falling away to reveal something more serious yet still full of relief and warmth. When he spoke again his words were quiet, but they made a big impact. “It’s real good to hear you talk about Sarah again, too.” 

With that, he left, and Joel was left to respond to the empty room. “Yeah. It is.” 

–  –  – 

Twenty minutes later he was drying off from the shower when he heard the sound of the back door opening, followed by the call of his name. 

“Joel? You home?” Ellie’s voice was muffled by the closed door and the towel that he was dragging over his hair. 

Ellie? Thought she was stayin’ out tonight? 

He called back. “Yeah. Gimme five minutes, I’ll be right down.”  

Moving from the bathroom into his bedroom, Joel pulled clean clothes and underwear from his dresser - a pair of thick navy blue sweatpants along with a dark gray t- shirt and a pair of wool socks. Easing the shirt carefully over his wrapped bicep, he sighed, knowing that as soon as Ellie saw it she would react. She hated seeing him injured, as anyone would hate to see someone they cared about get hurt. But Joel knew that in her case, it was more than that. In her case, it reminded her of those dark days in Colorado, when she did all she could to keep him alive and still wasn’t sure he would make it through the night. 

It won’t always be like that, though. ‘Least I hope not. For her sake. 

The  thought of covering it up with a loose fitting flannel or long sleeved shirt didn’t even occur to him, though. After coming clean about everything that happened in Salt Lake City with the Fireflies and the doctor they were working with, Joel made a solemn vow to himself that he’d never withhold the truth from her again. Even when it might hurt. Especially when it might hurt. Because he knew that nothing he’d done in that hospital had hurt her more than the lie he told her on the outskirts of Jackson. 

And I’ll never do that to her again. 

As he made his way down the stairs, he heard her moving around in the kitchen, the sound of plates being set on the counter meeting his ears. “I’m making sandwiches,” she yelled when the fourth step from the bottom creaked under his weight. “You want one?” 

“Sure, kiddo.”  What happened to stayin’ with your friends? Everything alright?” He wasn’t trying to distract her by keeping her talking before she saw his arm, but Joel wanted her to hear it in his voice that he was okay. 

She groaned. “Kat and Dina are having some kind of stupid drama and I didn’t wanna get sucked into it so I decided to come home. You know, they’re both important to me but sometimes they can just - Fuck! Joel! What the?” 

He’d walked into the kitchen at the same time that she looked up from the slices of bread that she was piling with leftover chicken, the sight of him making her stop what she was doing and scramble around the island to stand in front of him. 

“Hey, hey, it’s…” He held up both hands, only wincing a little at the pull of his stitches when he lifted his arm. “I’m fine, Ellie. Just a cut.” 

“Well …” Her eyes were wide but she tore  them from the bandage to look up at him. “Well, what happened? I thought it was supposed to be an easy run?” 

“It was. But you know as well as I do that easy runs can turn, yeah?” He reached forward, placing his hand on her shoulder and tilting his head to the side. “Hey. I’m okay, kiddo.” Giving her a light squeeze, he waited for her to nod and accept what he was saying, and then he shot a glance at the half-finished sandwiches. “C’mon, I’m starvin’. Let’s eat and I’ll fill you in.” 

Just like he did the night that he and Tommy brought you into town, Joel sat down and told her everything that happened at the optometrist’s office - how the pair of infected had seemingly come from nowhere and were suddenly on the two of you, how the one that lunged at him managed to knock him backwards and through a glass case, how you had made sure that the wound was cleaned and tended to as best as you could. And though she had been concerned and rattled at the beginning of his story, Ellie was wearing something close to a smirk as he finished. 

“Oh.” She bit off a mouthful of her sandwich, raising her eyebrows as she chewed and speaking again before she swallowed. “So you like… really trust this chick, huh?” 

Joel clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. Her too? First Tommy and now- “That’s your comment? Not ‘Well I’m glad you had someone there to help you, Joel’?” 

Ellie rolled her eyes right back. “Yeah, yeah that too. But I mean…” She gave a casual, one-shouldered shrug. “First you let her take care of you, then you decide to both sleep at the same time instead of taking shifts?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. “You never do that unless it’s me or Tommy.” Something dawned on her then, and she turned mid-chew toward the sink, gesturing towards it with the hand that still held what was left of her sandwich. “Wait. Is that why there’s two glasses in there? Did she come over when you got back to town?” 

“What? No. Ellie…” He sighed, and shook his head. “No. There’s two glasses in the sink because Tommy was here earlier, not-” 

“Well you should invite her over for dinner then. As a thank you-” She emphasized her intention to silence his protest. “- for sewing you up, you know?” 

Joel took a bite of his food, chewing it slowly to buy himself more time before answering. The idea of having you in his home, sharing a meal, talking and laughing - he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like it. But I don’t know if she… 

He thought back to his own first few months in Jackson and how skittish he was every time someone would try to include him in anything that wasn’t directly related to security or survival. It all still seemed so impractical. Cookouts and movie nights and holidays while the world outside the walls continued to crumble? And then there was the guilt. That grating, shredding near-constant feeling that he shouldn’t be there - shouldn’t be safe, shouldn’t be happy or comfortable or even alive - not when Tess didn’t get to be there too. Not when Sarah never had a chance to. You hadn’t said much about the things you’d been through or the people you’d lost, other than that you’d recently lost your nephew. But Joel knew from experience that while those devastating wounds never fully healed, they did become less raw when they were given some time.   

I’d like it. But I don’t know if she’s ready for somethin’ like that. He swallowed and brought a hand up to wipe his mouth. Yet. 

“Maybe when the weather’s nicer an’ we can cook outside.” He got up from the table and took his plate with him, setting it in the sink next to the two glasses. 

The scrape of chair legs on the floor told him that Ellie had gotten up, too, the girl appearing at his elbow to stack her plate atop his. “What does the weather have to do with-” He shot her a look then and she rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. But we’re circling back to this in June.” 

Joel leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Speakin’ of circling back, you said somethin’ about your friends fightin’? You wanna talk about that?” He lifted one eyebrow as she shot him a look of her own. 

“I do not.” 

Joel snorted a laugh. “Alright, then. Just try not to go breakin’ too many hearts, yeah? You don’t-” 

Without missing a beat, Ellie grabbed the dish towel that was hanging on the oven handle, balling it up and throwing it at his face. “Shut up.” She was laughing too, though, bending down to pick up the towel after Joel had batted it away. “So stupid.” Straightening back up with an exaggerated sigh, she whipped the towel onto the countertop. “On that note, I’m gonna get outta here.” She glanced at his arm, mouth dipping into a quick frown that was gone by the time she looked back up at his face. “I’m glad you’re home, Joel. Have a good night.” 

He smiled, chest warming as he did. “G’night, kiddo. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that she turned and was nearly out the door when something caught her eye and she stopped in front of the refrigerator. “Hey, you got a new magnet.” She pointed at the note she’d left him, now stuck up with the square-ish shape of Wyoming. “I used the cowhead one but this one’s-” She looked over her shoulder, a smirk beginning to grow. “You brought home a souvenir from your trip, huh? So you could remember it? Any reason for that?” 

Joel narrowed his eyes at her, but all it did was pull a laugh out of her. “Good night, Ellie.”  She laughed all the way down the back porch steps but Joel didn’t mind. She ain’t wrong.

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[fizzigigsimmer]

WIP: All The Kings Men

I dusted off my WIP folder this weekend and realized that this draft has been sitting for over a year to the day and that's a shame. I really love this story. It was really nice to get back to this world and I want to keep at it. I am hoping to stay inspired.

Background: Prince!Steve X Pirate!Billy also, Prince!Steve x Siren!Billy because I absolutely will have my cake and eat it too.

Basically this is a dom/sub au in a fantasy world. Steve and Billy fell in love when they were kids, only to be separated. Years later Billy decided to come back and get his man and ran off with him. Now a war for the crown is brewing on the exterior while Steve and Billy fight an interior battle for dominance - and to the victor the spoils.

~*~

The sky was still a dark blanket hanging over the city of Ashae when two spots of light appeared, like stars burning bright. 

Within moments a deep groaning, like those of bullfrogs, filled the air as the eyes upon the watchtowers blew their conches to warn the city of the oncoming danger.  

“Min Primena!” the frantic voice of her serving woman called through the doors of the bedchamber in the old tongue, and then once more in the imperial standard. “My princess, you must wake!” 

But despite the earliness of the hour Princess Ingrid was already awake, dressed, and marching through the doors of her bedchamber before the shouting of her personal servant could even finish echoing down the stone corridor.   

She’d woken at the first blast of the warning shells. Their throbbing notes had vibrated in the stone beneath her feet as she leaped from her bed and reached for her dressing gown. Their sound filling her heart with dread. 

The bone men had come.  

It had been many years since anyone from the empire had been to the castle. Ships came from distant ports for trade but only as far as Korallö, the first of the northern islands. To maintain peace, delegates and diplomats had been sent to Teru as necessary, but neither the Bone King or any of his emissaries had set foot on Ashae or its citadel in going on a decade. And that was by design. 

Ingrid’s father the king was not well. 

“What has happened Nadia?” Ingrid asked her serving woman, tightening the ties on her dressing gown as she strode down the empty hall towards the center of the castle. Whether their unexpected guests had been brought to the throne room or the dungeon, the center of the castle was where they’d be. 

Nadia scurried to keep up with Ingrid’s purposeful stride, her large chest heaving under her gossamer top. She had not seen her stoic serving woman Nadia so ruffled, even on the day Ingrid’s father had collapsed. If not for the warning shells she would have feared it meant the Prime was dead. 

 “Primena, two airmen from the badlands have come.”  

“Ah, that explains how they had made it to the castle without being stopped.” Ingrid mused, frowning. 

There was no one who could challenge Noreda in battle by sea, but they were vulnerable by air. However, it did not explain entirely why they hadn’t had prior warning.  

The princess had made good use of her time as a captive in Teru. Her friends in Sereni were few but they were well placed, and loyal to her. Or more aptly they were loyal to the peace that was promised and the order of Divinas from whence the prophecy of the promised prince had come two hundred years before. Loyal enough even to risk their lives divulging court secrets to the enemy.  

Their silence now was troubling, but Ingrid pushed aside her lingering questions and focused her mind on the more important task at hand. She must protect her own secrets now. 

“Where is my father?” 

“The prime is secure below, min primena.” Nadia answered and Ingrid released a quiet breath of relief, some of the tension in her chest loosening. Thank The Father for small mercies. 

“Send word to Tal-Munson.” she instructed. “No one is to enter the southern gate until he hears it from me.” 

The serving woman bowed her head once in submission before hurrying off to do her mistress’s bidding. For she knew as well as Ingrid, that it would spell their ruin if the Bone King were to discover the truth behind their king’s ill health. Her father was more than ill he was depleted, robbed of the ancient power that had been at the heart of her family’s power since the day they’d risen from the sea. 

Without the power that had been passed down from prime to prime for thousands of years, Noreda was crippled and would not be able to withstand attack from their enemy in the south. 

But there was no evidence of weakness on Ingrid as the doors of the castle opened and she descended the great white steps, down to where the castle guard waited with the intruders: two men, sat atop giant feathered beasts with wicked yellow eyes. 

The airmen hailed from Egnill, home of the fyre lords, and were clothed in the distinctive dress of their people – long tunics with the symbol of the phoenix embroidered upon the chest. It was no doubt made from the flame resistant leathers that their ancestors had crafted for centuries and exported to other nations at a hefty cost. But it was to the green and gold bands around their throats that Ingrid’s eyes went, bands that established them as part of the Terun empire and under the Bone King’s heel.  

Her lips curled in a sneer. She would not be intimidated by a pair of collared dogs. 

The two men sat on the back of their fyrebirds surrounded by a circle of her father’s warriors, their deadly cortans drawn and open at their sides ready to slice through flesh and bone at the first provocation.  

The riders wisely refused to give up their only exit of escape by leaving their mounts. On their taloned feet their beasts stood nearly fifteen hands high. Although the massive plume of brightly colored feathers atop their heads made them appear taller.  

Piercing eyes tracked Ingrid like prey as she approached. The breeze tossed her golden hair and the gossamer robe fastened between her breasts until it floated around her pale legs as if she were in water. The pearls in her diadem glinted in the firelight from where they rested against her brow.  

Armored only with the power in her blood Ingrid strode to meet them and the alphas surrounding the airmen parted for her, lowering their eyes in submission. 

“Milady.” The braver of the two riders, a man with hair as russet as his beast’s tail feathers, cleared his throat and spoke a greeting in imperial standard. “I am Nathanial Cunningham, Captain of the wing-guard and I would see your king.” 

Ingrid smiled at the impertinence, showing her fangs. 

“You are nothing.” She corrected softly. “And I would see you dead for trespassing on these lands.”  

She enjoyed watching the way the foreigners faces paled, the scent of their fear souring the air. The brave one’s eyes narrowed speculatively on her however, before turning and sharing a meaningful look with his partner. He had drawn all the correct conclusions from her presence there and the absence of her father she was sure. There would have been no reason for the king to bother with them or for her to show her face at all, had he still had the full power of poseidon behind him. 

Ingrid sought out the highest ranking of the guard and locked eyes with him, giving the alpha a subtle nod.  

“Are you Lady Harg-” Captain Cunningham’s companion did not get a chance to finish before the sharp end of an arrow grazed across his cheek, slicing through the flesh before embedding itself into the sandstone a few paces beyond. 

The captain drew his sword as his second let out a cry – more from shock than pain. The feathered beasts they rode puffed out their breast and flared their wings, the captain’s mount opening its large slightly curved beak to screech a furious warning.  

Ingrid tensed, painfully aware of her own vulnerability, but no flame appeared from the creature’s mouth. More arrows rained down from the open arches of the castle, and the captain leaned over in his saddle to reach across and grab the reins of his companion’s mount delivering firm commands for it to settle. 

When the beast had calmed and its rider had regained control, Captain Cunningham turned burning eyes toward Ingrid, full of fury and hatred. Ingrid’s smile stayed exactly as it was. She raised her hand and the volley of arrows ceased.  

“I am Princess Ingrid, daughter of The Tuninri.” She corrected the man again, lifting her head with pride. “And you bore me. Deliver your message and be gone.” 

“You speak of trespassing when you have invaded our capital and made off with the king’s blood?” Captain Cunningham seethed, all pretenses at civility abandoned. He resembled his feather pet as his eyes pierced her. It was a struggle for Ingrid to keep her face still, at the revelation that the capital had been invaded, though she was sure a practiced eye would have noticed the twitch of shock she quickly suppressed.  

To hear that Sereni had been attacked was shock enough. That anyone would dare risk harming one of the kings own blood was almost unfathomable.  

“Is the Bone King dead?” she asked the only thing she cared to know and watched the captain’s face as he answered. 

“He is secure and in good health.” The young captain’s face betrayed nothing but his scent was bitter. He was lying. But about which part? 

“We are glad to hear it. But why do you blame Noreda for this?” 

His lips curling in a snarl, Captain Cunningham reached inside the satchel hanging at his side and tossed something swaddled in stained rags down onto the ground. As the object rolled to a stop near Ingrid’s bare feet it came unraveled, revealing the severed head of a Gorgan warrior. An icy fear speared Ingrids chest at the sight of it.  

“I see.”  

This was Creel’s doing, but she could not say so and risk revealing to the enemy the extent to which her father had lost control over the Gorgan tribes. She raised her eyes from the bloodied head and back to Captain Cunningham.  

“My Father knows nothing of this attack. We shall have it investigated.” 

“Of course. And I suppose it was merely a coincidence that on the very same day, Billy the bastard betrayed his liege and disappeared with the king’s ship?” the captain sneered in reply and Ingrid’s breath shook. 

Billy. 

Her heart squeezed in her chest, thinking of the child she’d left behind in Teru. The Divinas had promised her he was on his way home to his people at long last. She’d believed, but to hear it echoed so plainly from her enemy’s lips made it suddenly more real.   

“I have not seen William since he was a boy. Are you searching for him?” she asked calmly.  

She would not let them leave if they were. Two fyrebirds could bring down a ship in a matter of minutes. 

“Our search is for Prince Steven, and the message from our king is this: we will find him.” Captain Cunningham warned darkly. “And when we do, we will build our homes upon their ruined halls, and drink the blood of those who dared to test the strength of Teru.” 

A terrifying promise to be sure, but Ingrid did not wince. Little terrified her after the years she’d spent shackled to her terun husband, a brute of a man and far from the worst of his kind. Her suffering had only hardened her resolve. There was no pain she couldn’t weather and no indignity she couldn’t face when she knew that all of it would be to the glory of Noreda. 

“You will not find your prince here. Begone now.” Ingrid smirked, before she turned her back to them, confident in the strength of her father’s men. She spoke over her shoulder as she walked away, making a promise of her own. 

 “If you return uninvited as you did today, we will drag you into the sea and it shall be our children who suck succor from your bones.” 

~*~*~*~ 

‘I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls…’ 

Steve glanced back at the mouth of the cave where a ring of daylight illuminated the sand disappearing beneath the encroaching waves. The tide was coming in and Jonathan was not a strong swimmer. The butcher’s apprentice hung back, pacing at the opening, his fretful calls nearly becoming lost within the cavernous space as his voice bounced along the walls. Steve did not need to hear Jon clearly to know what he was saying. Come back. The tide is rising. It isn’t safe. 

But Steve pressed on into the darkness, away from the light, venturing into the back of the cave. He was not afraid of the dark, or of the strange music only he could seem to hear. It swelled louder with each step he took as if to assure him he was taking the right path. Even if the cave had not been discovered by anyone else for a hundred years or more, they were still in Hawks Landing. This was his home. 

‘I had riches all too great to count.’ 

He kept a hand pressed to the wall to guide his steps as the carven narrowed into a tunnel, the ground beneath his feet slanting downward. He paused when the rock beneath his hand became less rough edged, smoothing out until it felt polished. He ran his hand along the cool surface, wondering at it, pausing again when his fingers encountered something protruding from the wall. As his fingers grazed it, he felt a subtle vibration - a gentle hum. The shell, for Steve could see it now where it was embedded in the wall, began to give off a soft light bathing Steve and the walls around it in a golden glow. 

The light glimmered upon the surface of a wide pool of water resting just a few steps from where he stood. Had he kept going in the dark he would have fallen right into it. It was here the cave ended in a rounded chamber, not caused by the passage of time and erosion but chiseled with tools. Tiny colorful shells like the one he’d accidentally touched were embedded into the walls along with polished stones of differing sizes. They formed a mosaic he realized, as more of the shells began to pulse with light until the rendering of waves spanning the curvature of the chamber appeared to move. 

The music was all around him now. He could hear the plucking of a harp strings and the low throbbing notes of a fluted instrument for which he had no name for, and there were voices too. They rose up from the water as he drew closer. 

The pool was deep and black. He could not see a bottom to it, and yet it seemed to beckon him. Those voices were so beautiful, singing in a language he’d never heard spoken outside of his own mind, but that he knew was real. And ancient. 

‘But what I dreamt which pleased me most, twas that you loved me still the same.’ 

Steve wanted to follow those voices. They understood what no one else could. They would make the pain go away… 

“Steve!” 

Steve woke gently to the sound of his name. Unlike the frantic way Jonathan had called him all those summers ago, Billy’s voice was calm and steady as it drew him from sleep. He blinked his eyes open. It was growing dark within the cabin. The sun outside the open window already sunk halfway bellow the horizon. It bathed the room in hues of bronze. How long had he slept?  

“Murray will be ringing the bell for supper,” Billy answered, reading the question in his expression. Steve turned his head slightly to look over at him, his breath catching as his gaze wandered over miles of golden skin and the firm wall of Billy’s chest. In the dappled glow that filled the cabin he made Steve think of the marble statues of past kings that decorated Sereni. He used to look up at them when he was a boy and marvel at their greatness: the size of their arms and legs, the breadth of their shoulders, the superior way with which they held their heads, frozen in poses of dominance. 

I will prove my blood. I will be great, and all of Teru will know it. He used to vow whenever he looked upon the likenesses of his ancestors, doubling down on his efforts to rise above his royal cousins. And after he’d earned his sword and had been knighted, bent inside from an invisible injury but not broken, he had added: One day, he shall beg for mercy at my feet. 

Steve smiled to himself before masking it with a tired groan.  

“Never did I think I would come to dread supper.” 

Billy huffed in his ear, more amused than annoyed. 

“I forgot what a princess you are. You of all people, has no right to complain.” He reminded Steve with an arched eyebrow. His frown was stern, but there was a certain glint in his eye that Steve knew. Loved, if he were being honest. 

“I am the king’s blood. I define what is right.” he replied as haughtily as he could manage without having to laugh at himself. “And what of you? You move heaven and earth to get a prince in your bed and then act surprised when he believes himself faultless.”  

He’d hoped to draw a laugh from Billy with his teasing, but Hargrove only continued to stare at him, his expression growing more pensive.  

“Billy, what’s wrong?” Steve finally questioned, beginning to worry a little. 

“What were you dreaming about?” 

Instead of answering, Billy asked a question of his own. Steve hesitated, wondering why Billy was suddenly interested in his dreams. Not that he minded - it gave Steve a thrill, not knowing what pieces were on the board and what Billy’s next move might be. He’d missed this. Nobody ever played the game the same way or gave him the challenge that Billy did.  

He was happy, feeling the evidence of Hargrove’s strength pressed against his body, knowing it wouldn’t save him. Steve would be his undoing, and there was no more powerful feeling than that. 

“If I said I was dreaming of hearing you beg for mercy, what would you say?” Steve asked, his eyes searching out the bite he’d left on Billy’s shoulder. His heart quickened just at he sight of it, a spark of heat lighting deep in his belly. There was an answering spark of desire in Billy’s eyes before he answered. 

“I’d say that’s an admirable dream.” Billy’s lashes lowered as his own eyes found the bite he’d left on Steve’s throat. “But unless you forget, it was you who begged for my cock only hours ago. Intend to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life. ” 

“Strange. I remember you swearing to fulfill my every want only hours ago. But if you’ve decided not to keep your vow…” Steve huffed and began turning his body away, but Billy grabbed him around the middle before he could complete the motion and hauled him back in until they were chest to chest. Steve glared, but Billy just smiled. 

“You don’t want me dead. And you don’t want to test my patience either, omega.” He warned. 

Steve’s chest filled with warmth at hearing Billy call him his omega again, a quiet sound of pleasure chittering in his throat. It felt right. Their bond was stronger, and Steve felt stronger for it, and yet he was unalarmed by it. He ran his tongue over his teeth and wondered if it had something to do with the bites they’d exchanged.  

“I was dreaming of home,” Steve answered truthfully this time. “The time I explored the coast with my friend Jonathan. Why do you ask?” 

Instead of answering Billy lifted a hand to Steve’s cheek and rubbed the pads of his fingers over the surface. An achingly soft touch that sang through Steve’s starved skin like a reward. He leaned into it, curling into Billy’s body until his warmth was pressed all along his skin and Steve could feel the rise and fall of every breath he took. The itch and ache of yearning that he’d lived with while Billy had been avoiding him, refusing to touch him, might feel like a distant memory in the afterglow of sex and sub care, but it wasn’t. Not to either of them. 

“There were scales on your skin. You were glowing, here...” Billy’s hand  drifted down to Steve’s neck  and pressed gently against the side of his throat. “And here.” 

His voice was steady but Steve clocked the tension in him through his tightly controlled breaths.  

Steve considered it slowly, shivering a little. It wasn’t the first time he’d dreamed about finding the cave, but it couldn’t be coincidence that he’d been dreaming about that when he grew scales and started to glow.  

“My teeth grew sharp earlier, like yours do.” Steve admitted though it would have been hard for Billy not to notice when he’d bitten into him like a flesh eating eel. What he really wanted to know was, “Billy, do you ever hear voices?” 

“Voices?” Billy’s had gone tight. He had his answer but Steve pressed on for more detail. 

“The ones in the water.” Steve nodded his head toward the open window, confessing. “My room at home faced the sea. At night I could hear them singing in a language I’d never heard, but I understood every word.”  

He waited, unsure how Billy would answer. He could not be sure that Billy would be truthful when that truth made him vulnerable, but it was not just himself anymore that Billy had to worry about. Steve was tangled up in the secrets locked within Billy’s blood. 

‘There is no weakness like loving someone. Never forget that’. Steve’s father used to say, but it was Billy who had taught him the lesson. 

“Now and again.” The admission was gruff and quiet. Steve laid his head on Billy’s shoulder, smiling to himself as the alpha’s arms tightened around him. “And when I do I have the helmsman change course.” 

“Why?” Billy looked at him askance and Steve grinned. “I understand why you would fear for your men, but when you are alone, why not go to meet them?” 

“They are sirens Steve. They lure sailors to their death.” 

“But you are no ordinary sailor. Perhaps they only want to greet their prince.” 

Billy’s face darkened, predictably, his scent souring. 

“I am no prince. And I don’t care what it is they want.”  

“Bollocks. You’re scared.” Billy’s glare turned sharp and Steve tilted his chin up in defiance. 

“Are you calling me a coward Harrington?” 

The red glow around his pupils was warning enough, how stupid Steve would be to say another word that wasn’t a denial. 

“A fortnight ago, definitely. Tonight?” Steve paused, bringing his hand up to graze Billy’s bared shoulder, just above the mark his teeth had left. Billy’s gaze followed the movement of his hand, his throat moved as he swallowed, before he lifted his gaze back to Steve’s, penetrating. 

 “Tonight, I find myself feeling very human.” Steve continued, hushed. “Despite all indications that I am not. You cannot hide from who you are Billy, any more than I can hide from who you’ve made me.”  

It was silent for a long drawn-out moment with neither of them speaking. Billy breathed in tandem with the slapping of waves against the sides of the ship.  

When he finally spoke, his grip around Steve changed with the command that entered his tone. “If you hear them again Steve, you’re to tell me. And you are never to answer their call.” 

This was as far as Steve could safely push Billy tonight, Steve knew it even though he could tell that Billy was expecting resistance. Which was good because if he had expected anything else Steve would have been insulted.  

“I would not want to follow them anyway.” Steve answered with an easy shrug and took private delight in the wary confusion that furrowed Billy’s expression. “I am no prince of the sea or child of the gods. I like my chances better on land.” 

Slowly the confusion cleared from Billy’s face, replaced by a small hopeful smile. 

“That is a very petulant way to say yes alpha.” 

“That’s not what I said at all.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

Steve heaved a great put upon sigh and began talking to himself, not bothering to lower his voice. 

“He’s got a magnificent cock, yes, but if he’s a mad man is the fare really worth the price of – Ah!” Steve laughed as Billy growled and rolled on top of him, driving the breath from him as he wedged his thigh between Steve’s legs. Laughter melted into a moan as the pressure against his cock made Steve stiffen. 

He grabbed onto both Billy’s shoulders holding on, but Billy held himself still. He stared down at Steve with such a smirk, Steve wanted to smack it off him. And then kiss him. Suck those soft lips between his teeth until he whimpered and moaned. I hate him so much. Steve tightened his grip on Billy’s shoulders. 

Billy laughed, smug as he rocked into Steve too slow and infuriatingly easy. Bastard. I love him so much. 

I obviously haven't updated in a while but you can read up to this part on AO3

[blu3haw4]

When I'm drunk, I get the munchies so how about "what do you want to eat? Bend over"

Oh anon thank you! That was so quick sorry im so slow. I wrote the beginning of this the same night, a bit yesterday while hang over, and just now finished it 😬

I must admit i had to think it throught (let's say translations weren't working in my brain) but here it goes. This is maybe a part of my stripper/CEO wip:

It has been a long day. For the both of them, in very different ways for each, but oh so endlessly long.

There was only one thing in Lexa's mind when she walked into her girlfriend's apartment. -A place so much smaller than her penthouse, but so much more comfortable. A place that felt much more like home than the place she called that for years. - Clarke was in the kitchen wearing only an oversized t-shirt while picking items here and there, moving around the kitchen, deciding then and there what to do.

Lexa had a key, she's had it for over four month now and she loved to use it. She loved the feeling of coming home to her girlfriend. Specially when said girlfriend insist on trying to 'help out' on stressful days full of meeting and sending thousands of provakative pictures, just to then pretend as though those hadn't been sent. Continuing on their previous conversation like nothing happened.

Lexa's underwear has been ruined since noon.

It was currently 9pm.

"Hey baby! Welcome home!"

There was a 'how was your day' hidden in there, but Lexa could sense Clarke bitting her lip. She knew what she had done.

Lexa didn't respond, she just walked into the living room, methodically putting away her suitcase and different bags of folders she brought from work. She took long enough for Clarke to walk out of the kitchen looking for her.

"Long day, beautiful?" Clarke asked Lexa, moving her hands up to her shoulder and turning her around for a greeting kiss.

Those hands moved further back to play with the baby hairs in the back of Lexa's neck as Clarke pulled them closer in the kiss.

Lexa didn't resist. How could she?

Lexa chased -she always did- and pulled at Clarke's hips to drag her closer even if she hadn't moved.

Her hands found their usual spot holding Clarke's hips and she let herself get lost in the kiss. If there was any doubt of whether her intentions for the night were a shared thought, they got erased when a skilled tongue expertly licked its way into her mouth, colliding and dancing with her own for only a second before Clarke retrieved entirely from the kiss.

"What do you want to eat?" Clarke asked inocent, and Lexa actually wondered if the questions was genuine or flirty.

She didn't really care either way. There was still only one thing in her mind. Only one right answer.

So looking down, Lexa grabbed the edge of Clarke's oversized t-shirt and pulled slightly up, just to check that there was no other barrier she had to take care of.

She licked her lips at the sight and with a breathy exhale she looked up again.

"Bend over"

She ordered, looking at Clarke's deep blue eyes and watched them get swallowed by her dilating pupils.

There was a second of shared breath, no hesitation, only pure anticipation. They moved together, turning in sync while Clarke turned on her own too. Lexa's hand were still over Clarke's hips when she leaned over the side of the couch followed by Lexa's chasing lips.

With her elbows firmly on the cushion and Lexa leaning over her back, kissing her shoulder while pulling her shirt up for a better view, Clarke pushed herself back into her girlfriend's body.

Making her way down through Clarke's back with her lips, Lexa thought of a million things she could say, prize Clarke for her obedience and slide into a little role play, scowl at her about the hundreds of nudes she sent Lexa just that day, profess her love for Clarke and verbally worship her. In the end, she knew her lips would do better not talking.

Once she was kneeled down behind Clarke, worship her ass was a must; she kissed and caressed lovingly and then bit and nibble softly, and then not so softly, teasing, testing how far Clarke would let her go. It was a particularly hard, open-mouthed bite that did it.

"Lex" was let out surprisingly calm and collected from above "no marks" All Lexa did was kiss it better, before moving on to her main objective.

♾️

Hour later laying in bed, laying her head on Clarke's chest Lexa looked down at her heavily marked thighs. There were bruises all from the top of her thigh down and around the inner side. She wasn't so sure but she could see one on her calf too.

"We should go on vacation again" Lexa mused, snuggling into Clarke's neck "Somewhere far, far away. For much longer than last time... y'know, so we give time for your hickeys to fade"

An amused exhale was Clarke's answer.

"I'm serious. We could go to Europe... spend a month or something"

"Bell would fire me if I'm gone for that long"

"That'd be a very unwise business decision. He'd lose 30% of his clientele"

"You really just took my word for it?"

"And Raven's. And Octavia's too, she knows about business. I also witnessed it"

Silence spread after Clarke simply hummed. After a couple minutes, the blonde tasked "You ruin all my plans!"

Offended, slightly amused and a little shocked, Lexa lifted her head to gap at Clarke "I was gonna make you an amazing dinner! And you distracted me"

"I distracted you? You asked me what i wanted to eat! Anything that happened after i was done was purely your doing" Lexa deflected, laying her head down again.

"Uhm, sorry? Was i supposed to... what? Just walk back into the kitchen while you literally started undressing in front of me?"

"I was merely getting comfortable" Lexa shrugged with a smirk clear in her tone. Before Clarke could complain, she lifted her head again "Besides, none of this would've happened if you hadn't sent a million pictures while i was working"

Clarke gasped this time, as Lexa relaxed once more "you ungrateful brat! People pay to see what you complain of having access to"

"Nono, i ain't complaining, I'm merely stating arguments to declare my innocence against your accusations"

Clarke laughed out loud and pulled Lexa up for a kiss "i was gonna make you spaghetti with tomato sauce" she grumbled after.

"We can order it" Lexa whispered, still high from the kiss. Clarke laughed again.

"God! Do you do anything by yourself? No wonder your kitchen is spotless, when was the last time you cooked something?"

"My kitchen is spotless because I have a cleaning team going in twice a week. My room and office i do all by myself, for the record"

Leaning into another kiss Clarke chuckled "no wonder they're so dusty"

Lexa gasped into the kiss, Clarke holding her close "your house is dusty" she grumbled, making Clarke laugh again.

"It is not! I just don't have a cleaning team coming in twice a week"

The couple laughed, freely and lovingly as they continued kissing. Enveloped in the sent of their love making and the sound of their shared happiness, Lexa thanked every and any divinity for the chance to have it with Clarke.

"I love you"

"I love you too, baby"

"So about our trip to Europe-"

"Lexa!"

[acourtofladydeath]

WIP Game

Thank you for the tags @yanny-77 and @witch-and-her-witcher!!

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I have SO MANY WIPs in varying stages ranging from "ferally writing every chance i get, including in my sleep and during class" to "drowning and forgotten at the bottom of the pool while I work on everything else." Some are mostly drafted, others are outlines, and some are just ideas I've dropped into docs but all are near and dear to my little fanfic heart.

Welcome to the Family (Elain X all the Vanserras)

Sariel Sic Fic (Azris)

*ASOLB Ch3: Dare to Dream (Azris)

*RttHC Ch2: Winners & Losers (Azris X Nessian)

*TTBW Ch5: You Were Only Waiting (Nessriel)

Ch7: Reunited (Patrochilles)

UTM contact -> mating (Azris)

What Eris got Az for solstice (Azris)

Casris Hounds

Who Have We Become? (IC has to face some shit)

The Process of Progress (Azriel focused)

Carhysta Smut

A Court of Hurting and Healing (Bat Boys focused)

And So, We Danced (Nesta & Eris brotp w/ Nessian & Azris)

How Dare You (AU Azris)

Lovers Live and Die, Fortissimo (AU - Azris, Nessian, Elucien, Helion X LOA)

Lauda/Hunt F1 AU (Azriel/Cassian)

UTM Lucien/Eris fic

Patrochilles Azris

Eris shows up drunk & injured, see screenshots (Azris)

Feysand vs. Nessriel

FFF smut part 2 (Eltamcien)

ASOLB mating frenzy (Azris)

Jurian and Rhys heart-to-heart

Bat Boy reunion after UTM

*RttHC, TTBW, and ASOLB each have a doc per chapter, so they have multiple WIP docs, but I only listed the chapters I'm currently writing/working on.

Several are whump, several are feel good fun, some are more serious commentaries, and a few are straight smut. There are also MORE THAN THIS. But those ideas were either not as fleshed out or ones I wanted to keep to myself.

ANYWAY THIS IS HOW MY BRAIN WORKS. Welcome to my personal hell. ? Heaven? Unclear...

For legal reasons and my own gods damned sanity I make literally zero guarantees that you get all of these by the way. but THEY EXIST. There's also the two original fiction ideas that I have and have documents for but I'm keeping those close to the chest.

There's literally no way to tag as many people as I have fics so I'm just picking a few. I apologize if you've already been tagged and NO PRESSURE! @thelov3lybookworm, @readychilledwine, @born-to-riot, @danikamariewrites, @thelovelymadone, @theatrequeen, @nocasdatsgay

[dorkfruit]

i put this together using my computer's trackpad so the new year is already starting out . bad .

posts: J | F | M | A | M | J | J | A | S | O | N | D

template

reflections on the year, my plans for the future, some studies i did, and wips for the next year all down below for those who are interested

tldr; we will be ianthing next year so watch out!!

oh dear lord it's been another year. 2024! can you believe it! i don't talk much on this blog because i have a tendency to talk too much, but it's my little new year's treat, so here we go.

RECAP

i started taking drawing "seriously" in December of 2020, starting to do studies and stuff, and each year since i've ramped it up more and more. this year, i did. a lot of studies. there's probably like at least 200 more in my folder now (not including the 300 days worth of gesture drawings i did), with things like painting, faces, feet, poses, etc. anything i was struggling with, i went right into studying it. my art has been mediocre for a pretty long time now, and it's only the past few months where i feel i'm starting to get the hang of it, which is exciting!

more importantly, i started posting a lot more on this blog. i really like documenting my progress, looking on where i was before and seeing how i've improved. everytime i draw some fanart, im like, oooghh i can't wait to show my (: followers (: !! lots of locked tomb art of course. i've been trying to nail the energy of the different characters, which is why i enjoy books so much, because you get a lot of creative control. drawing ianthe is my fav of course, cause she's my lil nasty, but also i enjoyed doing designs for characters i hadnt thought about before, like judith.

in addition to the locked tomb, we had some new fandoms that got brief moments in between iantheposting: Fear and Hunger, Postal, Faith The Unholy Trinity, and a couple of old ones too, like We Have Always Lived In The Castle and The Merciless.

i posted about 115 times this year, although most of those are shitposts LOL i love posting stuff on my blog and showing people my stuff <3

THE FUTURE

my plans? do more ianthe art, of course. ill be working on more studies, probably going to work on developing a style, and figuring out how to paint. i'd like to do more actually finished pieces, but let's be honest, it'll still be mostly shitpost doodles. i'd like to do more weird stuff. i've been messing around with some gore and NSFW near the end of the year, and it's fun to draw for me. i like idk art that evokes some type of emotion, especially discomfort, and so i find that type of art fun to do, so if you don't enjoy what i've done thus far in that direction, perhaps this isn't the blog for you. i really like horror media, and so i want to do some stuff like that too.

for specifics, i like western type art, a comic book-esque style i'd like to aim for. but i'd like it to be a little more. weird with it. i find comic books often draw all the characters the same, and make all the characters traditionally attractive, and that's boring to me so i'll have to work on finding a way to keep things weird, while also appealing in a graphic sense. the worst thing my art could be is bland and forgettable.

locked tomb wise... more tridentarii art. need to be really weird with it. i have lots of wips planned, like i have a whole page worth of just thumbnails, so i wanna get some of those done. also i had a few animatics i wanted to do. mostly stupid shit, once i learn how to do animatics, then we'll do actual serious ones. id also like to do more comics. i have some comics storyboarded out with my girlies, i like telling a story so, need practice on that. id also like to develop a way to consistently draw them, for convenience sakes, so i'm not fighting for my life every single time i draw these characters. oh and i wanna do some outfit stuff. i draw them in like. generic clothes everytime but i'd like to come up with a few actual outfit designs, that i can just reference back to. and, of course, more shitposts. lots of stupid shit in 2024 for sure. there was something else i wanted to say here but i can't remember.

ART

oki enough rambling, here's some IMAGES for yall to look at i know everyone loves to look at images.

began this year by warming up with gesture sketches (almost) every day. i started with 20 poses (30 seconds each), and then in november i was like. ugh my hands suck i need to get better at hands, so i switched to doing 10 hand sketches (60 seconds each). i want my art to be very energetic so it's important that i do these !!

anatomy studies of extremities because i'm flopping at those -_- ive gotten better with hands but they're still a struggle. i hate feet tho still

need to get my painting game up. i joined an art forum to get advice, and the biggest suggestion i got was working on my values, so i did various value studies. also lots of faces because my faces flop !!

random doodles to work on drawing from imagination. on my "sketchbook" pages, as i like to call them, i'm usually pretty loose and messy, since the point is just to be drawing so often these will suck, but that's fine. i don't think very much when i draw faces on here either so they end up being in my Instinctive Style i suppose you could say

ianthe wip. i was planning to do a few drawings based on the idea of her having Missing Arm nightmares, but the lineart was intimidating to me so i haven't worked on this one more yet /: also there was going to be a toontown gay homosexual toxic yuri comic that i was gonna put here with it but the page is way too long so umm guess that'll have to wait.

...

anyways. thank you for reading if you got to the bottom of this! i appreciate all the support that i've been getting lately (extra big kissies for the same like 5 people who always reblog my posts youre the best). and we will be ianthing soo hard in 2024 so watch out!!

[diazsdimples]

Fic Writing Review 2023 🥳

Words and Fics

222,730 words published to AO3

1 fandom (9-1-1)

Most recent drop: sugar and spice and all that smells nice (Buddie | 6.3k | E)

Longest fic: Buck's Baby (By Accident) (Buddie | 119k | G)

Top Fics By Kudos

Buck's Baby By Accident (Buddie | 119k | G)

Fucking Finally (Finally Fucking) (Buddie | 3.9k | E)

Burning with Need (Buddie | 3.8k | E)

First Words (Buddie | 2k | G)

In sickness and in health (but mostly in sickness) (Buddie | 3.7k | G)

My Fandom Events in 2023

Didn't do any! I joined the fandom in June and didn't write anything until July 🙃

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

This all depends on how many babies need delivering next year ngl, and how much of the year I spend on call but here's the WIPs I have so far!

To finish/publish:

With you I'm home - I quoted 20 chapters for this because Buck's Baby was also 20 chapters but I am 100% playing this by air. In this fic, we see Buck and Eddie embarking on their first year of marriage. They have a 2 year old son (Aidan) and Christopher, who is 14. This fic will show them navigating parenting a boisterous toddler and a sassy teenager while they begin their journey to having a new baby.

Cat Fic!! - this has been sitting in my WIPs folder for months now and I haven't had the beans to write it recently! Buck has adopted a cat with a curious name that brings a whole load of feelings to the forefront of his brain (is he saying I love you to the wrong Eddie?) and also provides some excellent material to fuck with his friends.

AUs that live in my head rent free

GTA AU - Listen I know this sounds weird, BUT, Buck and Eddie are heads of rival motorcycle gangs and constantly engage in turf wars. They realise they have the same product dealer for their cocaine lockups, who has been selling them dodgy product, resulting in loss of revenue for both men. They come together to confront the man realise they work extremely well together and who knows, maybe rival MC gang members can fall in love!

Piano Teacher!Buck, Parent!Eddie and Student!Chris - this was inspired by my Musician AU Play me like a fiddle, and was vaguely encouraged on Ao3 by @theotherbuckley, and will be a oneshot of Eddie coming to Buck after being referred to him by Christopher's physical therapy. Buck is more than happy to take Christopher on as a student is fast delighted by his constant, bubbly optimism. Eddie watches as Buck teaches his son and watches Christopher's confidence in himself build and realises, fuck, he's slowly falling in love with his son's teacher.

His Dark Materials AU - Buck finds himself in possession of an alethiometer and the more questions he asks of it, trying to figure out it's true meaning, the more he finds himself being drawn towards a dark, mysterious man he's noticed hanging around the college lately. Buck's daemon is instantly drawn to Eddie's daemon and the two find themselves unlikely friends, embarking on a quest to discover what it is the alethiometer is trying to warn them about.

Single Parents AU - Buck is the single father of two daughters and has just joined the 118 and is struggling to find his place. He meets another single father at his daughter's school in the pick up line one day and Eddie reveals he's training at the LAFD but struggling with childcare while he does it. Buck suggests they combine childcare and offers to help Eddie train, and even gets him a position in the 118 when Eddie graduates. How long will they coparent their three kids before they realise they've got it bad for each other?

Misc. ideas that haven't quite developed into fics yet but exist!

Magic Au - Buck and Eddie both have the power to control their auras (which have a colour and scent specific only to them) and go through rigorous training to enable them to save the earth from the Elder Race threatening to take over (inspired by Michael Scott's Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel)

Detectives AU - I've been watching too many Scandinavian crime shows and want to write Buddie solving a grisly murder

Chances are I'll come up with more over the summer!

Tags and rules under the cut

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Tagged by @jesuisici33 and @hippolotamus thank you my loves!

(no pressure) tagging @malewifediaz @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @theotherbuckley @disasterbuckdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @callmenewbie @cal-daisies-and-briars @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @rainbow-nerdss @wikiangela @steadfastsaturnsrings @spagheddiediaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @loserdiaz @smilingbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks (ignore if you've already done it!)

[the-mandawhor1an]

Question tag game

I've been tagges by @djarins-cyare a while ago and finally get to it. Thank you for thinking of me 💜💜💜

Answers under the cut ⇓⇓⇓

Do you make your own bed?

Not on the regular. I am a human raccoon and live in eternal chaos. My bed is only made when we have people over and they might have a look into the bedroom to see the cat. Or when it hits me and I have one of these days where I feel the urge to deep-clean the bedroom.

Favourite number?

17. I dont know why but the number jus speaks to me. Also, kind of feel good about 12, it's a nice number. Very versatile. Probably the number I gravitate toward when I have to think of a random number.

What’s your job?

I am a development engineer to put it simply. My official job description will lead to me having to explain quite a few things. It's a niche industry and I am intentionally vague about it, as it's probably easy to find my workplace and in return me if I tell you. What I can say is, I am considered a photonics engineer and work with lasers daily.

I lovingly call myself 'smartass with a licnse'. Engineers are a little smartassy. Also, my 'expertise' will have some significance to the Reed Richards filth that still sits in my wip folder.

If you could go back to school, would you?

I'm not sure. The only 'step' I have left would be starting a PhD. Do I enjoy being an engineer? Yes. Are about half of my coworkers PhD holders and that makes me feel like the odd one out? Also yes.

Am I willing to switch my 40 hour work week to about 60 hours for the next 3 to 5 years? I'm not so sure. Also generally the pay for PhD students is not that great in good old Germany

Would I like to be a Dr-Ing one day? It would be cool. I bet my granddad would be proud, he was a professor himself. Kind of sad that he passed before I graduated.

Can you parallel park?

Yup. I do it rarely but my car is small and I am (mostly) confident in my parking skills. Unless Heehoo is with me because he has this talent to make comments about women's parking skills whenever I park my car perfectly and it annoys the ever-loving shit out of me.

Do you think aliens are real?

I think so. It used to scare me when I was younger but now the thought of being completely alone in this universe is a lot scarier. The universe is big. FUCKING BIG. It is next to impossible that there is no other life out there. There is the great filter theory but I don't fully subscribe to it.

Can you drive a manual car?

Not to bash the Americans on here but I believe most Europeans do? Yes, I learned in driving school, otherwise you're not allowed to drive manual after you have your license. Nowadays you can even do a hybrid of automatic and manual at driving school. Like 4 lessons are on the manual and the rest plus the exam are done on the automatic and you still get the license to drive both.

Also, my car (that has been running smoothly ever since it came back) is a manual. I've been driving mom's car for years before that which was automatic, it was a little difficult to get back into shifting gears but it takes one or two trips and it's all back and works on autopilot. Now when I drive automatic I find myself wanting to shift gears every now and then.

What’s your guilty pleasure?

I'm not sure I even have guilty pleasures. I enjoy my pleasures unapologetically these days.

Do you have any phobias?

Flying.

I know it's irrational as driving a car is infinetely more dangerous than flying but I can NOT stay calm when I feel the nose of the plane take a dive. I will claw into the arm rests and make the trip unbearable for Heehoo as well.

I have been on planes. I survived, obviously. It just doesn't feel nice so currently I can only stomach short flights.

Favourite childhood sport?

Probably dancing? Unless horseback riding is also considered sport.

Yes, you read that right.

I was a horse girl. I wanted to buy a horse when I started working. Well, haha, funny thought. I am paying off my car rn and I can NOT afford a horse whatsoever.

I am by no means an active person. The only movement I somewhat enjoy is rollerskating and taking walks. Sometimes swimming.

Do you talk to yourself?

Occasionally. A lot happens internally but sometimes I just vocalize my thoughts when I'm alone.

Do you have tattoos?

Currently I have two, both on my ribcage. A little fox (that I should just call Fink tbh)

The stretch marks really came out to say hi in this.

and some florals with Mando's helmet.

Mando will get an extension all the way down my leg with my Maia helmet and more florals. It will take some time tho. I need to save up some money for it. Plus I'm not so happy wih my body rn. Working full time really takes a toll on the body.

Favourite colour?

purple. Easy.

Do you like puzzles?

Jigsaw puzzles? They're okay. I have two 1500 piece puzzles hanging on the walls as decor. One in the kitchen, one used to be in the hallway. Now there hangs a collage of wedding photos.

I still have a halfway done Mando puzzle waiting to be finished and put into a frame. Idek where to hang it.

That's it

npt: @rivnedell @evolnoomym @zaddymandalorian @guiltyasdave @djarins-wife

(if you've already done it I'm sorry, it's been a while since this came around)