#don't mind me hoarding this ask for over a week
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is that so...
ask boop‼️‼️ wahaha‼️
!!!!
#boop!#don't mind me hoarding this ask for over a week#it was just too precious hehe#boop you back with love and gratefulness
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Ok, so I loved your dragon reader/ dragon price fic. The detailed courting rituals got me thinking about how different members of TF 141 react to a s/o who has different courting rituals than them.
The one rolling around in my mind rn is Gaz (which I'm pretty sure is a harpy or bird hybrid of some kind) with a dragon reader.
So Gaz tries to court reader through a more fancy version of pebbling. But, instead of giving cool rocks and sticks, it's gemstones and weapons. Yknow, expensive/fancy things that Gaz thinks the reader might want to add to his hoard.
Btw do you have an anon list? If so, is 👑 anon available?
I don't have an anon list yet but you're welcome to be 👑anon!
It's cool to think how they'd try to court you. I hc that werewolves, and Johnny by extension, are really straightforward. Like sitting way too close, hands roaming over your body, trying to lick into your mouth and going "Hey wanna make more of us?"
Ghost, the poor thing, is completely fucked bc he was human before becoming a wraith, how the Hell is he supposed to know? Que him going through Wikipedia articles and watching documentaries of your species courting and mating (having to rub one out imaging you and him in that position ofc) and just stumbling through the whole courting thing.
CW:NSFW
But Gaz? Oooh Gaz—
Safe to say he's fallen ass over tits for you.
It's the way you take care of them, of him, of the monstrous strength used to defend them turning velvet soft when Gaz needs emotional support that has his harpy hindmind demanding to lock you down before a competitor snatches you away.
Only problem — you're not a harpy. And Gaz has no idea how courtship works, as when he asks Price about it (under the guise of just being curious) the old fart just gives him an amused look and tells him to figure it out.
Though harpies and dragons are two different species, he figures there must be some similarities, so he figures to listen to the old fairy tales about your kind and looks for the shiniest thing he can find, because Harpies court by giving gifts and dragons like to hoard and both of them like shiny stuff right?
You're confused like Hell when one day you wake up to find a silver ring with a shiny amethyst sitting on your windowsill. You know for a fact it's not yours as the instinct to catalogue every item in your hoard is as old as the draconic blood running through your veins and you'd remember if you had it.
When you make sure it's not stolen and no owner can be found, (because who'd wear that type of ring in a military base?) you decide to keep it, failing to notice how the way Gaz's pupils get bigger when you put the ring in your pocket.
It is a nice ring, the shine of the gemstone tickling your brain in a pleasant way. The military doesn't allow dragons to have large hoards, most of the items you've gathered over the decades and centuries safely hidden in vaults, but it feels good to have a small hoard in your den.
You expect this to be a one off event. But. No. Every few weeks you find a new thing on your windowsill, from gems to guns to additions to weapons you've expressed you'd like to get. Each new thing leaves you scratching your head, annoyance growing bit by bit as there's never enough scent on the items to track the culprit down and it's not like you can turn the base upside down looking for them (again).
You're unsure how to feel; it's obvious someone is trying to court you, but it definitely can't be Price because no dragon would go about it like this. But you have to admit it's nice to be desired, regardless how odd the method may be.
Then you notice how Gaz has started acting. . . different. He'll ruffle his feathers and flutter his wings more than usual when you two are alone, purposely stretch more often to make your eyes naturally draw to him, sticking to your side as he talks about everything and anything under the sun.
You're also not a fool. You can figure out it's a harpy's way of trying to show off, but without any open hostility you can only assume he's trying to court you. And you let him, you like his presence and the sound of his voice, the way he gives you a lopsided smile and the way his dark feathers shine like onyx gems when the light hits them juuust right and the way he flushes and stutters when your tail wraps around his leg.
Then one late evening when you're doing paperwork you catch sight of something behind your window in the corner of your eye. Like a flash you're opening the window, your clawed hand gripping Gaz's hand before he can scatter.
Gaz's wings spread out wide, a surprised squawk leaving him as he looks into your slitted eyes. "Uh-, I, eh- Hi?" He says, gulping, his newest gift, a very shiny ruby, held in his hand. But what draws your eye are his dark feathers.
You let out an amused snort, "Hello." You purr, leaning in so your faces are close, enjoying the way he flushes from the proximity. "So you're the little thief that's been visiting me."
Gaz's feather puff up to make his silhouette twice as big, his eyes narrowing, a hurt and angry look spreading across his features. "I'm no thief!" He says, insulted that you'd suggest he can't get you gifts on his own. "I-"
"You are," You hum, reaching out your other hand to hold his jaw, and even with his anger he feels his mind croon at how softly you touch him. "You're in the process of stealing my heart."
"Oh." Is the most intelligent thing he can come up with, his pupils blowing wide like he'd just seen the shiniest thing in his life. "Oh."
"Yes," You shrug and pull your hand back to yank one of your scales out of your shoulder, giving it to him as you take the ruby. "Keep this safe for me, yeah?" You hum and then you let him go, going back to your work while he's left dumbstruck, clutching the scale close to his chest.
When it finally settles in his head that you'd just given him a gift, that you'd reciprocated, and given him a shiny gift, oh he's treating that scale like it's the most precious thing in his world. He keeps it close to him, cooing to it in the privacy of his room, keeping it on his pillow so he can fall asleep with your scent in his nose.
He also doubles down on the gifts, but now he's very open about it, to the point you'll have him randomly come into your office to give you something shiny or another weapon, preening so prettily when you praise the thing he's brought back, nuzzling into your neck and fluffing up his feathers. His heart swoons when you show him the small hoard you've made with all the things he's brought you, and you end up spending the entire evening with him cuddled up to you, chirping happily.
"Hey, can I see that scale I gave you?" You ask after a couple of weeks, curious to see how he's treated it.
"Uh, sure." Gaz can swear his heart's beating like a war drum as he watches you inspect your scale, checking for scratches or cracks.
But you find none, it's still as shiny as the day you'd given it to him. Maybe even shinier.
You smile and before he can do anything you pull him close to you by a hand on his hip. "Very well done, little thief." You hum, kissing him. Gaz melts against you, not even your lips able to muffle the happy chirps and croons that escape his chest.
You spend the next few months getting familiar with each other's bodies, lazy evenings spent with your clawed hands preening his wings, Gaz steadily melting into the bed with every brush of your fingers. Kyle taking a few extra minutes in the morning to rub his face between your wing, chirping and crooning.
Harpy mating season comes around and you're caught off guard when you come to your room to find your covers and pillows and entire wardrobe on the ground, turned into a makeshift nest with a very naked, and very horny, Gaz sitting in the middle of it.
His eyes are hazy but he knows you're there the second your scent hits his nose, the most desperate sound you've ever heard leaving his lips, bruised from how hard he'd been biting them to reign his noises in, to keep them only for you.
"Mate-" Kyle whines, shuffles in the nest that has the pretty gems he'd gifted you strewn amongst the fabric, "-need you, please- I-"
One more needy sound is all it takes to have you tumbling naked into the nest in record time, deep guttural purrs answering his pleased coos. He presses flush against you, seeking out your mouth, whole body burning up and his thighs shaking, his cock rock hard.
"I got you, pretty thief." You rumble, pulling him into your lap, his wings spreading out and feathers puffing up, as if he needs to make himself look even more desirable. "What do you need Kyle?"
"Need you," Kyle whines, pawing at your own erection, desperate fingers shaking as he strokes you, "Please- hurts, I need- mate."
You shush him with sweet kisses, your hand sliding down to very carefully stretch him open while avoiding injuring him with your claws, your mind purring at how willingly he opens up for you, wings and limbs shaking as he whimpers against your lips, his mind steadily leaking from his cock.
"You're alright," You calm him when you pull your fingers out, positioning him so your cock head rests against his entrance, not missing how Kyle preens at your strength. "Going to breed you right, gonna take care of you."
"Yes, yes, yes!" Kyle moans are loud as you steadily push your cock into him, his walls clamping down on every inch of your length. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank- mate." His claws dig into your shoulders, clutching you tight as you bottom out in him, his hole clenching you in sync with his ragged breathing.
"I'm here," You hum, barely able to think, "Just relax, let me take care of you." You say, feeling him relax into you, and with deep purrs and lots of praise you begin to fuck him, moving him like a fleshlight on your cock, letting him moan and groan and scream his heart out uncaring who hears it, your ancient blood singing at the thought of his noises being a testament to your abilities as a mate.
Then the tight heat and the scent and just Kyle has your mind forgetting how to think, your body moving on it's own to show Kyle he'd picked a good mate.
#cod mw2#gnome correspondence#x reader#Gnome's Spittballs#trinkets from the hoard#male reader#top male reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle garrick x male reader#kyle gaz garrick x male reader#kyle gaz garrick#cod mlm#cod modern warfare#monster cod au#cod smut#cod x male reader
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Little Wayward Girl
Masterlist (requests are open)
Summary: As the result of a bet, you must prove to your friend that not only have you experienced the magic of Robert Plant once before, but that he will definitely remember you four years later. Right?
Warnings: NSFW, minors DNA
Word count: 9.6k (got a bit carried away)
Tag list: @brownskinsugarplum76 @firethatgrewsolow @chromations @whothefuckisanja @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @callmethehunter @strsmn @m-faithfull (if you'd like to be added, just let me know!)
1975
I huffed, brushing down my skirt after fighting my way through the hoards of fans that so desperately wanted to get backstage. There were displeased looks from surrounding girls, but it was their bloody faults for leaving a gap next to them!
"What are you looking at?"
"Don't know, but it's got a right face on it," my best friend, Ally, grimaced back at the scantly-clad ginger and her friends beside us.
"'Ey," I nudged Ally, sending her a look of disapproval.
"What, she's being a c--"
"Chill out, you're the reason we're back here anyways."
"Oh, yeah, because you wouldn't have wanted to come back here."
"Why do you say that?"
"To try and meet them, since you have never met them before." Ally smirked at me, making me roll my eyes.
"You're not budging, are you?" I asked her with a sigh.
I could see her lunging for the chance to make some kind of snarky remark, but chaos ensued further when the door in front of us cracked open, revealing a tall and large man with a noteworthy beard.
"Right, can't let all you birds in, as much as we all want you to," the man huffed, scanning his eyes over the huddle.
Squinting my eyes, I tried to place my finger on who this guy was, as he was staggeringly familiar. You'd think after four years, I'd recognise such a man immediately, but it took an embarrassingly lengthy amount of time for it to click.
G! Oh shit, it's Peter Grant--Y/N, you fucking idiot...
Peter, barely giving us a once over, let as many of us through as he could. Ally's hand grabbing onto mine, we sidled past Peter, finally entering the grounds of my mission. With a sigh, I glanced at Ally and rolled my eyes. I can't believe she's talked me into this...
...Earlier that day...
I stood behind Ally in front of the mirror, bobby pin between my teeth as I intricately braided the top layer of her blonde hair, ensuring there wasn't a lock out of place.
"I'm so excited!" she squealed. Her excitement made me grin, a similar feeling rippling through me.
"I just feel lucky that I get to see them again," I said through the bobby pin.
"I'm so jealous that you've already seen them live."
Smirking to myself, I took the pin from my mouth and secured the underside of her layer to the rest of her hair, followed by a thin hairband to secure the end of the braid. "All done."
Ally turned to her side, getting a good look at my handiwork and clapped giddily. She turned and gave me a tight hug, rocking me side to side. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
I giggled, patting her on the back before letting her go. I needed to fix my hair. Nothing too special, just a blow-out look that made my hair fluffier and larger. I liked the way it framed my face and sat along my shoulders; I loved the way it hung down my back.
Then again, so did he.
It wasn't that I was nervous to be seeing Zeppelin again in concert, it was purely the fact that memories from the night I saw them for the first time played out very vividly in my mind the whole week leading up to this day.
I did a once-over in the mirror of our hotel room, catching glimpses of Ally shuffling around on the bed, trying to force her feet into the pair of platforms she'd innocently swiped from one of our housemates.
"I still don't know why you don't just wear your own."
She looked at me as though I was speaking cling-on. "Are you insane? I've worn those so many times, as if I'd go to a Led Zeppelin show in shoes I've worn close to a hundred times before."
"If you say so, Al..." I shook my head in amusement. Once I concluded that I was happy with the outfit I had chosen, I decided that now was as good a time as any to tell Ally what I'd been waiting to tell her since we bought the tickets for the gig.
"So... I think there's something I should probably let you know before we head out," I started, spinning on my heel to look at her.
"Go for it," she struggled, falling onto her back with one leg in the air as she pulled on the heel of the platforms.
Amused by her blissful ignorance to the bombshell I was about to drop, I leaned back against the wall. "You know how I've seen them live before?"
"Yup!"
"Did I ever mention that I, uh... met them?"
Her leg dropped, the chunky heel thudding on the ground. "You did what?!"
I grinned, keeping my nonchalant position against the wall. "You heard."
"I'm not sure I did."
"You did," I laughed with a nod of my head.
"But... how?" she breathed out with wide eyes and an open mouth.
I shrugged. "I just found my way backstage with some girls I'd met that night. They're actually lovely lads."
Ally narrowed her eyes a bit, sitting up on the bed. It was like she was analysing my demeanour.
"What?" I asked.
"You're bullshitting me."
"I promise you, I'm really not," I shook my head. "That's not even the most unbelievable part about it."
"Fuck's sake, Y/N, tell me already!"
"You clearly don't believe that I met them, I highly doubt you'll believe the other part."
"Please! Tell me, I promise I won't jump to any conclusion," she pleaded through puppy-eyes.
"Fine!" I feigned defeat, as though I didn't want to tell her the sordid details. "I may or may not... have had... an... encounter..." I contemplated my choice of words. "...With Robert Plant."
"Yeah, right," she immediately fired back.
"See, I told you you wouldn't believe me!"
"You're telling me that you, Y/N, shagged Robert fucking Plant?"
"Well, I did!"
"Lies."
"Just 'cause you're jealous."
"I would be jealous if it were true," she sang, standing up and giving herself a final look in the mirror. "Well," she sighed, turning to face me with her hands on her hips. "There is one way you can prove it to me..."
"I'll be honest, I'm not overly bothered about you believing me or not, because I know it did happen," I said matter-of-factly, heading over to where I kept my bag and taking out the necessary things I needed for the night, sticking them in the deep pockets of my velvety brown blazer-jacket. "Besides," I turned, "he liked my hair. And my tattoo."
"Your shitty tattoo that you did yourself when you were sixteen?" Ally asked in subtle shock.
"Yeah, he said it..." I stopped myself, smirking. "No, you don't believe me, what does it matter?"
"So much for you not caring about me believing you or not..." She sighed dramatically. "Well, if you're comfortable with me shagging Harry--"
"Since when are you shagging my brother, Al?"
"Since you decided that it's not important to prove to me that you shagged the sexiest man on Planet Earth. Apart from your brother, that is..."
"Ew, gross, okay," I groaned. "How am I supposed to prove it?"
With a mischievous smile, she stepped closer to me. "Easy. We get ourselves backstage."
I shook my head, running my hand through my hair.
"Unless you don't think he'd remember you..."
Her smugness was irritating me now. It really shouldn't have mattered if she didn't believe me. But the more she was insistent that it didn't happen, the more and more I wanted to prove to her that it did. Just for the petty reason of being right.
"He'd remember me." I narrowed my eyes, but completely knew that I was being ridiculous. The chances of someone like Robert Plant remembering little old me were second to none.
"Yeah, okay," she disregarded. "I'm not considering it until you prove it to me. And if you can't prove it, and he can't remember a single thing about it... I get to have my encounter with your brother."
I groaned again, sitting back on the bed. "Fine. Fucking whatever. But I'm telling you... it did happen, and... h-he will remember."
"You don't sound too sure, Y/N, but we shall see..."
....Now....
Ally was having the absolute time of her life backstage; two roadies had already offered her a drink, which she obviously accepted, and she'd already gelled with multiple people.
I, however, felt uneasy about this whole bet.
How desperate to prove my friend wrong was I to insist that Robert fucking Plant would remember a night with a random girl from four whole years ago?! I spent a majority of the first half of the night mentally slapping myself and trying to figure out a way to get myself out of this situation.
But it proved to be too late as those four well-known rockstars entered the room to an abundance of cheers and applause for yet another electrifying performance.
First came Bonzo. I always remembered him as this big teddy bear, and he maintained that disposition. His hand was quickly occupied by a bottle of San Miguel. Some things never change.
Then came Jonesy. He was nothing but gentle from what I remembered of my brief time with the band. If I understood correctly, it seemed that he steered away somewhat from the sordid escapades derived from post-show adrenaline.
Jimmy had grown his hair out a little more, something I immediately noticed throughout the night. His eyes were laser-focused on the two girls waiting by the door for him, one of which were instantly taken under his wing. She was clearly his for the night. Probably the other one, too, now that I think about it...
I swallowed hard and glanced over at Ally, who was both in awe and anticipation. I can imagine she tackled with two mentalities. The first one being that she was seeing her favourite band up close, and the second itching to be right regarding Robert and I.
Larger than life, he strode in last, blouse open, yet tied across the bare expanse of his stomach. The jeans... God, those jeans. From where I had cowered in the corner, I had a prime view of the full picture. The pure perfection of one Robert Plant.
Heart hammering against my chest, I wished for the moment to pass quickly, knowing that come sundown the next day, my dear brother would be in bed with Ally.
I made no attempt to make myself seen. If he saw me, congratulations to him, but I wasn't going to intentionally put myself in the crossfires of embarrassment. Not that easily.
Ally was far too smug beside me, her mouth angled upwards in a smirk. I looked at her and rolled my eyes.
"Shut up," I mumbled, resorting to biting at my nails to relieve the growing anxiety.
"The moment we've been waiting for..." Ally started dramatically through a sigh. "...You shall be proven wrong, and I shall be between the sheets with H--"
I nudged her with some force, cutting off her provocation. She's so right, though...
My breath completely stilled in my throat when the enigmatic God of a vocalist scanned the room casually. And just like that, his eyes met mine. The moment was far too long for my liking.
Eventually, his eyes continued their surveillance around the room.
Nothing.
Not even the miracle of a second glance.
I cringed internally, lowering my gaze to the floor. Ally cackled beside me, before patting my back. "Damn, Y/N. Seems like he can't remember little old you..."
"Seems so," I mumbled, running my hand through my hair and shaking my head. Obviously, Y/N. You knew that would be the case.
All I could think back to was the moment Robert looked at me for the first time and didn't just pass me by.
1971
Ugh, you don't belong here.
I stood awkwardly amidst the small group of well-groomed girls that took me under their wing for the night. They were nice enough, and didn't look down on me like a lot of the other females in the audience did.
The hallway was eerily vacant as the final rings of the show erupted in precedence to the roaring yells of adoration. Vicky, who must have been about twenty-two, claimed it was best to get ahead of anyone else that may have wanted to come backstage.
I felt small and irrelevant with these girls. They were tall, beautiful, made-up, decked out, experienced... Everything that I was not. And when we heard an approaching cluster of footsteps, I quickly remembered that.
What are you doing, Y/N? This isn't your place.
My hands fist up into balls, hoping that my decision to extract myself from the situation would go unnoticed.
To my relief, it did. By them, at least.
Taking a few steps back, I initiated a turn, aiming to make a swift exit and retreat home. Perhaps in the comfort of my bed, I could indulge in fantasies of what might have been.
"Woah, easy there, love."
Startled, I collided with a broad chest, and in mere moments, I found myself locking eyes with the man who had elicited screams from thousands of girls just minutes ago.
Speak, Y/N! Don't be an idiot!
"S-Sorry," I stuttered dryly, lowering my head to walk past him. But he stopped me, reaching out to gently touch my shoulder.
"Are you alright?" I looked back at him, and tried my hardest to avoid his eyes. If I looked into his eyes, I'd melt. "You look shaken up."
My eyes darted to the floor, willing myself not to succumb to the beauty ahead of me. I nodded. "I'm fine. Just..." Muscle memory sabotaged my intentions, and I found myself finally looking back up at the blue pools of passion. And I couldn't look away. "I... was just... leaving."
"Already?" He tilted his head to the side as a charming smile took his features, embellished by the endearing tussle of facial hair I had swooned over all night. "Night's just started, darlin'."
His voice...
"Y-yeah, I know," I laughed pathetically, wanting nothing more than for the floor to swallow me whole. "You won't..." I glanced down the hallway at the girls I had left, their attentions fully on Jimmy by this point. "...won't be missing anything with me gone."
"Oh, I doubt that. The more the merrier."
I didn't answer him, I just pulled my gaze away from down the hallway and looked back at him with an unconvinced expression.
"Okay, well how about we start again normally?"
I scrunched my eyebrows up. "Wh--"
"Hello, my dear, I hope I don't seem too brash, but I can't help but notice how lovely and alluring your hair appears to be. I'm Robert, the silly prat that's just been jumping around on stage for the last two hours," he gallantly introduced himself with an exaggerated bow and an amused smirk.
My mouth hung open a bit, stumped at his energy. Not at all what I was expecting, but his subtle humour gave me a small sense of security, and I caught myself restraining a smile.
"I know who you are..." I said shyly.
"Yet, still, I haven't had the pleasure of knowing you who are," he pointed out, reaching out to cautiously take my hand in his.
Robert Plant is holding my hand. Robert. Plant. Is holding... My hand.
"Y/N," I managed to squeak out.
Robert grinned, squeezing my hand. "Names out of the way, may I ask why you don't think you'd be welcome?" Smoothly, he began to guide me in the direction of the dressing room where everyone else had convoluted. I barely even noticed, I was so caught up in his mere presence.
"Like I said... Don't think I'd be much fun." I shrugged. Robert's brows furrowed, an unconvinced expression on his face. "This is my first concert," I admitted through a nervous laugh.
"Ah," he chuckled, nodding his head. "I understand now."
By now, we'd stopped just next to the dressing room door. Robert turned to me, inadvertently trapping me between the cool breeze block wall and his heated, tanned body.
"Well, sweet Y/N with the pretty hair," he leaned down, lowering his voice to one laced with reassurance and the slightest hint of something else. "If you'd allow me, I'd very much like to be the one to... put an end to your post-show celibacy."
I swallowed hard, eyes wide as I stared up at his. He certainly has a way with words. So much potential to mean something entirely different. Without another word, I nodded, feeling my palms clam up at the realisation that I had agreed to something I only ever mustered up in my wildest dreams.
1975
Baffled by my own annoyance at Robert's complete lack of recollection, I grappled with the realization that my frustration stemmed from Ally being right and me being wrong. In that moment, I was an inconspicuous figure, a nobody.
Seeking refuge on a plush sofa, I settled into a comfortable spot, keenly aware that the majority in the room would soon migrate to an after-party in the hotel where the band was staying.
My gaze involuntarily returned to Robert, positioned at the opposite end of the room. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, and he was encircled by an eager flock of girls. Observing them, a wry thought crossed my mind – someone among them was in for an unforgettable night.
I couldn't pinpoint why his obliviousness bothered me so much. Was it wounded pride or misplaced expectations? Regardless, the scene before me unfolded like a vivid tableau, and I found myself grappling with a mix of emotions amid the impending revelry.
"What's with the long face? We're literally backstage at a Zeppelin show!"
I looked at Ally, unphased by her giddiness.
"Are you upset that you couldn't get away with your little fantasy?" She pouted. I could tell she had no real intention to upset me, and it didn't. It did, however, make me want to backhand her. In a friendly way, of course.
When I didn't answer, simply looking back over at Robert, Ally sighed heavily and shuffled closer to me. "Listen, just because it's not happened before, doesn't mean it can't happen tonight."
"Oh, sure," I rolled my eyes. "I'd have to get in li--"
Too engrossed in conversation, I was completely caught off-guard when I felt the chill of some liquid splashing onto my bare legs. I flinched backwards and looked up to see a very apologetic John Bonham.
"Oh, bloody hell, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, his voice booming over the chatter. He immediately looked around for something to help, settling on a nearby napkin. "Here, let me..."
I waved him off, laughing nervously. "No worries, it's just beer. I'll survive."
As he attempted to mop up the spill, our eyes briefly locked, and he grinned sheepishly. "Guess I'm not as nimble as I thought. Mini skirts and beer don't mix, do they?"
Still as lovely as I remember.
I chuckled, appreciating his good-natured attempt to diffuse the situation. "Lesson learned, I suppose." As I stood up to mop up the rest of the spilled beer myself, I knew it was fruitless, and I sighed lightly. I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of familiar blue eyes from across the room as I turned to pass Ally my own bottle. Wishful thinking.
"There's a restroom to the right down the hallway, love, I'm so sorry."
"You're okay, honestly. It was gonna happen at some point, might as well be by the best drummer known to man," I joked, giving Bonzo a genuine smile. "Be back in a sec," I said to Ally before taking off for said restroom.
1971
"Shh," Robert's lips moved against my jaw as I whimpered. "I've got you, darlin'."
My hips involuntarily ground upwards against the heel of his palm, searching for any semblance of friction. Robert's throaty chuckle tickled my ear with his beard.
"Have to go slow, sweetheart," he whispered. "Don't want to hurt you."
"Y-You won't..." I weakly whispered back.
Robert lifted his head to peer down at me, an unconvinced look splashed across his perfect features. "Oh, Y/N. Sweet, sweet Y/N," he breathed.
My hands clasped around the back of his neck, wanting nothing more than him flush against me. His eyes glued to mine, looking into the depths of my soul as he maneuvered his fingers below, tracing the outline of my underwear. "You need to be soaked, Y/N. If you want to take all of me..."
All I could do was nod in response, allowing his lips to cover mine in a searing kiss, his fingers very delicately navigating my untouched centre.
As soon as the pads of his fingers swiped gently over my folds, my hips ground upwards instinctively. I felt like I could unfold, just by his soft grazes.
With a lush swirl of his tongue around mine, he hummed into my mouth. Breaking the kiss with a subtle smacking sound, he gazed down at me with hooded eyes.
I could only imagine how desperate and needy I seemed below him; wide-eyed, flushed, barely touched.
"Am I correct in the assumption that you haven't done this before, Y/N?"
My throat closed up and I swallowed. Shit, I really didn't want you to figure that one out...
I stumbled in my response, diverting my eyes to the side, but unable to escape his ethereal clutches in the form of his fingers. He was still making slow strokes along my weeping folds. Even as he spoke to me with that voice.
"Hm, it's nothin' to be ashamed of, honey." His words came as an encouraging murmur, almost with a sing-song cadence. He put a stop to the movements of his hand, resting it on my abdomen. His head dipped down to pepper small, light kisses along my chin, along my jaw, and then down my neck. "I'll take such good care of you, darlin'..." he whispered. My skin tingled in response to his hot breath against it.
Robert nipped lazily at my neck before dragging his lips back up to mine with a chaste peck. "That's if you want, Y/N. Just say the words, and I'll take you there."
How can I say no?! You could have had me in the fucking hallway!
All it took was a feeble nod and a weakened "please" for Robert to spring into action. His gentle hands took their time in undressing me, and his eyes conveyed a novel's worth of intrigue, admiration, and pure lust.
A carnal desire; I to entrust, him to liberate.
1975
You know, you could just leave right now, and nobody would even notice. Maybe Ally. Shit, Ally. Why did you get me into this situation? Pfft, no, Y/N, it was you, you idiot. But still... you could make a run for it. Crawl into bed. Forget any of this even happened. Hopefully wake up and realise this is just a horrifying dream.... fuck.
The mental argument I was having with the reflection of the bathroom mirror went on, and I couldn't rationalise with myself. I should have left, but I didn't want to. I couldn't bring myself to. Something in the back of my mind told me that it was worth staying.
So, I huffed out, hoping to expel as much of the stress as possible, and did a once over in the reflection.
At least you can't see the beer anymore...
Leaving the restroom, I vowed to make the most of what the evening had to offer, and if that involved being completely ignored by Robert fucking Plant, then so be i--
"Woah, easy there, love."
Turning the corner, I walked straight into that broad chest I'd been ogling at for a majority of the night. With wide eyes, I craned my neck to look up at him.
Shit.
"Not the typical 'hello', but whatever suits you best," Robert chuckled.
"Oh, great, I said that out loud," I cringed inwardly.
There was a horrible moment of silence, of him just looking at me, studying me. It was hard not to revert back to that shy, scared 17-year-old that ran into him in an eerily similar way.
"D'ya enjoy the show?" he asked, leaning against the wall and folding his arms. God, those arms. I remembered how easily he hoisted my legs up with them. How they completely engulfed me when he held me for the night.
I found myself unable to speak. So I opted for a nod and a hum of approval. I was met with the signature side smirk, his dimple deeper than I remembered. Then again, he did have that beard back then. It felt great when he settled his head betw--
"Sorry 'bout Bonzo," he cut off my inner thoughts, "He's a clumsy sod when he's drunk."
I stifled a small chuckle, keeping my eyes anywhere but on his. That's how he captured me last time. Not that he fucking remembers... "Yeah, I know," I answered quietly with a nod.
My attempts at avoiding his gaze were cut short. His fingers rested under my chin, gently tilting my head up so I had no choice but to look at his face.
"I may be tall, but not tall enough that you can't look at me, love."
Jesus, the way he said that...
Swallowing, I pulled my head back. "Yeah, I know."
"You don't say much, do you?" he though aloud with a slight tilt of his head. Proving his point, I neglected to answer. "Were you planning to hang around tonight? We're going to head back to the hotel soon. Could have some fun, maybe loosen you up a bit, darlin'."
"I don't need loosening up. And my name is Y/N."
"Ah, my Little Wayward Girl speaks." He grinned.
"Yeah, well, it's a bit different when you wait outside of the ladies' restroom for someo--wait, what?" My eyes widened once again as I snapped my head back up to look him head on.
Robert's hand smoothed over the side of my head, stopping to cup my cheek as he dipped down to hover over me. Inches away.
"I'll see you in a bit, yeah?" he whispered.
Before he strode back down the hallway, leaving me dumbfounded and relieved all at once, he stole the lightest kiss from the tip of my nose.
1971
Robert's curls were soft and lush against the bare skin of my stomach as he laid facing the ceiling. He watched as the reflections of the sun danced in patterns above him, suggesting the break of dawn.
His arm was hooked around my bent leg, and my fingertips brushed over the mass of hair on his chest. My eyes were shut as I tried to capture the exact feeling of this moment, hoping to solidify the warmth of his presence in my memories forever.
Soon, my fingers were playing with his tussled beard, feeling the contours of his perfect jaw that were hidden under the natural mass.
"Tired?"
I forced my eyes to open. He was gazing up at me. The zeal in his eyes drew a shy smile from me, and for what felt like the hundredth time that night, my cheeks flushed.
"Yeah..." I answered in a hushed whisper, almost hoarse from the extent of which my voice had been exercised throughout the night. "I think you wore me out," I added with a silent giggle.
Robert responded with an amused hum, his hand idly tracing patterns along my thigh. "As long as you enjoyed it, darlin'... Though, I think it goes without saying."
I smirked at him. "How'd you figure that one out, then?"
He pulled himself up and turned over so that he was now hovering over me. Using his forearms to support himself, he pressed his clammy forehead to mine. "Those, sounds, darlin'... such a beautiful symphony." He lowered his head down, lips grazing the shell of my ear. "Music to my ears," he whispered. My teeth clamped down on my lips to subdue the idiotic grin that threatened to appear.
"What else?" I dared to ask.
Bringing his lips back up to mine, he melded us together in a searing kiss. His tongue teased my lower lip, but withheld the satisfaction of it going any further.
"Aside from the whimpers, the panting, and the dirty, dirty moans that fell from your pretty little mouth?" He licked his lips, eyes trailing down, his lips following suit. "The way your skin glistened..." He mumbled down my throat. "The goosebumps that you still have, by the way," he chuckled. Then, his journey travelled west and east. "The way your nipples became so taut, so early on." A light kiss to each of them. He continued south, dragging his soft lips and his rugged beard down my stomach until his chest was lined up with my used core. Broken into for the first time by this God of a man. "Then there's the perfect drip of your honey... Never tasted one so sweet, darlin'," he purred, daring to rest the palm of his hand over my mound. "You clenched around me so earnestly. You were so good."
Finally, he tilted his head back up at me. "Does that answer your question, love?"
I was breathless. It was like he was making love to me all over again, only lyrically. Like he did in his music. But for me, and me alone.
I wordlessly nodded, my lips parting in a shaky exhale.
"Good." Robert's playful smile returned, and he turned his head to pepper loving kisses on my thigh. He paid specific attention to the self-modification I made on my thigh. Then, he took a minute to ogle at it. "I like this."
I raised my eyebrow, an amused smirk on my lips. "Oh, the tattoo?" I laughed airily. "It's silly. Don't even know why I did it..."
"It's sweet. A little smiley face, the tongue sticking out." He looked up at me. "Innocent, yet... unruly and defiant. You're like my Little Wayward Girl..."
1975
Ally cackled, right in my face, as I gave her a quick rundown of what just occurred in the hallway.
"Yeah, okay, Y/N," she snorted with a shake of her head.
"I'm telling you the truth, Al!"
"I'm not judging you for lying about it, it's okay. You don't have to keep up with it."
"I'm not lying," I almost whined, running my hand through my hair. I near desperately scanned the room. Where the fuck did he go? It would be really helpful if he showed up and relieved me of this torture! I huffed, crossing my arms in frustration. What if I'm imagining things and what happened in the hallway was all in my head? Fuck, now I think I'm going crazy, thank you, Ally.
"Ally, you know me," I steadily began, "If it didn't happen, and you caught me out in a lie, I'd have given it up by now."
She squinted her eyes at me. "Yeah, but it's not every day you get to make something up about Robert fucking P--oh my god." Her eyes widened, looking behind me. Her hand reached out to grab at my wrist. And before I could turn my head to scope out what cut her off, I felt a steady touch on my lower back and a looming presence beside me.
"I don't believe I've had a chance to speak to you two yet," his distinct, velvety voice rang in my ears as a muffled shock, mixing with the rest of the noise in the room.
"N-No, you haven't," Ally croaked. She was starstruck. Who could blame her?
"I apologise for that. Y'see, there're always so many people waiting for us after shows, it's hard to get around everybody." I could tell without looking at him that he was speaking through his characteristically crooked smile.
"Just being here is crazy enough, I wouldn't even be mad if you didn't notice us," Ally said through a nervous and clumsy laugh. I couldn't withhold my stifled chuckle at her tone, very atypical for her. It was satisfying to watch her cool demeanour crumble with every word.
I could see Robert's head turn in my direction, and I instinctively looked back, my heart banging against my rib cage.
"Well, I've definitely noticed you, now." Even though it was in response to Ally, he was looking directly at me. The hand on my back bared a little more pressure. It was fleeting when he gave me another one of those smirks, before looking back at Ally. "So, how do you know my Y/N?"
My Y/N.
Ally blinked a few times, her eyes darting to me. I gave her a smile, silently screaming "I TOLD YOU," as I so wanted to out loud. I just froze in the moment, letting it unfold as beautifully as it seemed to be.
"U-uh, she's my friend--I'm sorry, you know her?" Ally's voice rose in pitch as he pointed at me.
"Know, knew, whichever suits you best," Robert shrugged. "Uh, when was it, love?" he asked me, once again looking at me.
Finally regaining an ounce of my confidence, I smirked ever so slightly as I answered him. "'71, I think."
"That's it," Robert grinned and nodded. Ally's mouth hung open a little, unable to form a coherent sentence.
"Y-you were telling the truth!" she whisper-shouted at me.
"Uhh, yeah," I told her matter-of-factly.
"Fuck!" Ally slapped her hand on her forehead, most likely cursing the fact that she would not, in fact, be in bed with my brother this time tomorrow.
Robert's brows wrinkled in confusion, and he glanced at me. "Wha--"
"Don't ask," I answered before he could finish his question. "It doesn't matter anymore, does it, Ally?" I raised an eyebrow at her, an unrestrained smirk on my own lips now.
"No," she said through a clenched jaw.
"Okay, then," Robert exhaled, taking his hand away from my back to move his hair from his face. "Well, we're heading back to the hotel now," he said to Ally. "You're welcome to come along. However, I will be stealing Y/N for the evening." He looked down at me. "If that's alright with you, love."
Just like that, he had me again.
1971
I was grateful that they had a day off. It meant Robert and I could sleep well into the afternoon before they had to fly out the next day.
Robert seemed to adopt a somewhat domestic demeanour, though I suspected that was just how he was when he wasn't in the throes of making love--be that on stage, or off.
In essence, he dedicated the remaining time I spent with him to after-care. He truly looked after me after making my first time the most memorable, magical, and otherworldly. I couldn't help but let my mind wander, as he disappeared into the bathroom at 3pm, how lucky his wife must have been if he treated the women he didn't even know like this.
Lucky, ha. Her husband is off sleeping with countless women on the road. Luck doesn't seem like the most appropriate word to use in this situation, but anyone who came within a half-mile radius of Robert is naturally deemed lucky.
Lost in my thoughts, tangled up in the bedsheets, Robert blocked my vacant gaze at the ceiling by extending his hand out to me. He'd run us a bath.
He'd taken me there, twice more, in that hotel bathtub. Once with his fingers, once with his cock--and both times accompanied by the melodic moans, grunts, and murmurs of his platinum voice.
By 5pm, he was ordering more tea with lemon and honey to the room. He taught me about the importance of honey when it came to protecting the vocal chords, prompting a detour of innuendo and even more charm.
Out on the balcony, overlooking the city, we both took in the cool breeze. The much-needed fresh air. We laughed over the wind's assault on both of our hair, igniting a playful back and forth over whose hair looked the best all dishevelled and out of place.
Desperate to prove his point of mine looking "enigmatic and resplendent," this led to a series of photos taken on the balcony with the camera Robert had brought along on tour.
"You really do like my tattoo, don't you?" I giggled when he asked me to pull back the robe and maneuver my body so the inked smiley face was on show.
"I told you I liked it, love," he said as he focused on snapping a few shots. "You should, too," he grunted as he stood up, stretching up. "Anything that makes you different, you should love it."
Eventually, he took me as his guest for dinner with his band mates, along with one of Jimmy's girls, and the two men who I quickly got to know as Peter Grant and Richard Cole. My attention was solely on Robert, though, and his on me. Offering me cigarettes, drinks, introducing me to different foods I'd never tried before.
And before he gave me another night of mind-blowing, leg-shaking orgasms, we sat out on the balcony, listening to records, and talking about what music struck him in the heart the way Zeppelin did with me.
He even sang to me. Rough lyrics and melodies, originals that hadn't yet been released to the world. I was honoured. I couldn't believe I was in the right place at the right time. Little old me.
But there I was, sat on a balcony in Robert Plant's hotel room, as he hummed the first or second draft of what the world would come to know as Stairway to Heaven.
1975
I would have been an idiot to turn down another offer from Robert Plant. To deny him of that limousine ride to his hotel, where the others piled in after us. Ally had attached herself to Bonzo, falling into deep, drunken conversations. And in my own tipsy--not drunken--haze, I looked up at Robert and chuckled when the car started moving.
His arm was draped over my shoulders, burning holes into my jacket with the mere graze of his fingertips, up and down my arm.
"So, you gonna tell me how you figured out it was me?" I said up at him. "And why you waited to follow me to the restroom to let me know of that fact?" I tilted my head further back, with me being so close to him.
The audacity he had, in front of all these people, to slide his other hand up my leg, stopping just as his fingers disappeared under the hem of my skirt.
"Honey, a skirt that short leaves very little to the imagination, and can expose your most unique qualities..." he trailed off, glancing down at his hand as he carefully teased my skirt a few centimeters further up, enough to unveil the stamp of innocence that had led him to dub me his Little Wayward Girl.
"And, of course... yer one of the only lasses I've had the pleasure of meeting to have this particular unique quality," he jested with a smirk, before gently squeezing the flesh of my thigh.
He leaned into me, lips parted inches from mine. "Just need to get reacquainted with another treasure hidden away up there, don't I?" He didn't let me answer, he just captured my lips in a searing kiss.
That kiss took us all the way up to Robert's hotel room, where he had me pinned against the back of the door with his lips hot on my neck.
"And you're sure Ally will be alright with--" I cut myself off with a gasp as I felt Robert's teeth steadily bite down under my ear.
"I already told you, love, she's perfectly safe with Bonzo," he said lowly. He kissed where he'd bitten, and dropped his voice to a provocative whisper. "Now, no more about anyone else tonight, Y/N..." Pulling back, he cupped his hand over my cheek, looking into my eyes. "Just us, darlin'... You..." His free hand trailed down my chest, fingers delicately teasing away the covering of my jacket. "And me."
I let him push my jacket off my shoulders, barely feeling it pool around our feet. I couldn't take my eyes off of his, and I fell deeper and deeper into his allure--exactly how I wanted it to be.
"No more distractions," I whispered back with a slow nod.
"No more distractions," Robert smirked, tilting his head to the side. He took a step back and held his hand out. "Come, my dear."
His hands were gentle, but a fiery presence on my skin as he took his time to remove every stitch of clothing from my body. In that moment, I felt like the most sublime creature on Earth. Every inch of my body was doted on, appreciated, cherished...
Robert was still clothed when he took my face in his hands, delicately placing the lightest kiss to my lips. Then down to my chin, my throat, as far as his tall frame could reach without having to bend at the knees. His fingers threaded through my hair, causing my eyes to flutter shut and my thighs to instinctively clench at the thought of him applying pressure to my roots.
"Set the pace, love," he muttered.
"I'm not 17 anymore, Robert..." I reminded him, my eyes flickering down to his lips. "I can handle whatever pace you wish to set," I told him with a confident exhale. My fingers worked on removing his blouse, all whilst distracting him with the want in my eyes.
And I watched as his darkened with something akin to epicurean, sovereign desire.
With an unfaltering stare, his hands gripped my wrists in the process of me pushing his shirt from his shoulders. Bringing my hands up to his lips, he kissed them, almost like a Godspeed to his gallant complexion. Then he let me go, ushering me backwards with maintained eye contact until I had no choice but to sit back on the plush bed.
I took in the delightful view of Robert shrugging off his blouse. My stomach clenched when the veins in his hands flexed whilst unbuckling the stylish belt he had secured around his hips. It wasn’t hard to tell that those jeans were starting to become an issue. The two of us shared a small, knowing smile as he caught me eyeing the obvious bulge.
“You do it on purpose,” I stated, leaning back on my hands.
He had a permanent smirk on his face as he peeled off his jeans and underwear. The heat between my legs fluttered already once his large cock came into view, springing up, proud and prominent. “What do I do on purpose, love?”
He knew exactly what I meant.
“Don’t play innocent, Percy, it doesn’t suit your God status.” I slipped my lip between my teeth, using the well known nickname for the first time.
“God status, eh?” He grinned, stalking towards the bed and hovering over me, steadying himself of his hands. “My, my, where as my Little Wayward Girl gone?”
I glanced down at his lips, shivering internally at how close he was to me. The tension was palpable. Thick enough to saw in half.
“If I remember correctly,” I started in a whisper, gazing up at his eyes. “A Golden God took the time to school me. And he stole away with that Little Wayward Girl before sunrise.”
“And who exactly assumed my Little Wayward Girl’s throne, my dear?” He whispered back, trailing kisses along my jaw. When he got to my neck, nipping and sucking marks into the sensitive skin, my hands instinctively came up to hold onto his biceps. “A Goddess, perhaps?” He breathed hotly into my ear.
The natural sandalwood musk of his body drugged me. I was high on his presence, rendered unable to answer with anything other than a shaky breath.
Robert’s hand moved up to hold the side of my neck, tilting my head in his direction. His eyes were clouded and hooded. Hungry with desire.
“Why don’t you show me what that Golden God taught you, baby?”
He didn’t have to ask me twice. In what seemed like a momentary flash, he’d returned to a standing position with me perched on the edge of the bed: face to face with his cock.
Tentatively holding onto the base, I gave the tip of his cock a kitten lick. Testing the waters. I glanced up at Robert, seeing he had one of his huge hands rested on his hip. Like he did onstage. Fuck.
I kept my eyes on him as I wrapped my lips around him, steadily taking his length into my mouth. Cheeks hollowed, I sucked gently, a spark shooting through my core when his lips parted with a sigh.
“That’s it, darlin’. Mmm…” he grunted, shutting his eyes and hanging his head back once I set a satisfactory pace.
I let my saliva coat him, I swirled my tongue around his hot tip, I did anything I could, and more, to work this leviathan into a state of ecstasy. I wanted to see his chest shimmering in his sweat, the rogue blonde curls plaster to his forehead, and the taut muscles under his abdomen tense with an unbearable urge to take control.
He looked down at me, almost taken aback by my boldness when I started to pay attention to his tight, full balls. Flattening my tongue, applying pressure with the tip of it in the right places, even teasing him with the odd suction.
“So perfect… Fuuuck…” he moaned, and his free hand held onto my head. “Damn it, I schooled you well, babe…” Before he lost it completely and cut the night short, he pulled me up to my feet, barely having room between him and the bed. He crashed his lips into mine, tonguing my awaiting lips and grabbing onto my hips with mammoth hands.
My own hands flew up to bury them into his mane of hair, meeting his frantic kiss with a matching ferocity. He leaned down slightly to wrap his arms tightly around my thighs and hoist me up for a brief moment before ultimately dropping me down beneath him on the bed. The kiss was forcefully broken, and I needed more.
Robert kneeled in between my legs, keeping me completely at his mercy. Caressing my face, he studied me intently. As though he was thinking about all the things he wanted to do to me. His thumb tugged at my lip, and I earnestly took it into my mouth, grazing my teeth over it.
“My girl…” He traced the pads of his fingers down my chin, down my throat, down between my breasts. He stopped to cup them, thumbs teasing over the taut nipples that were electrified from his simple touch. “…you…” His fingers ventured lower, tickling down my sides. “…are…” Up my legs, under my thighs, over my tattoo, to my abdomen. Finally, he reached my centre, adorned with a small mass of soft curls. “A Goddess.”
One hand pressing lightly against my lower stomach, he used his other thumb to venture over my folds. Two little swipes, barely there, drew a gasp from my lips. He acknowledged this for a fleeting second, and smirked to himself when he brought his thumb up to his mouth to wet it. His appetiser.
His eyes were fixed on the sight below him as he placed his hand flat over my mound, pushing against it to open me up ever so slightly—enough to allow the pad of his thumb access to the bundle of nerves that had been throbbing with need for the past hour. He made continuous movements over it with his thumb, taking pleasure from my reaction.
“Sensitive baby…” he hummed, keeping up with his actions. He watched my form twitch lightly, hips automatically rolling upwards, and my mouth fall open.
There was no doubt that he could have made me cum like this. Just by rapidly swiping his thumb back and forth over my clit. He knew it, too. And for a moment I thought that was his goal. But he worked me up to such a high, to where it was impossible to miss the swelling his ministrations enforced and the progressive rise and fall of my chest.
Then he pulled away.
“Robert…” I whimpered, rolling my hips upwards again.
“You were so close, darlin’… so beautifully enthralled…” he practically moaned in response to my whimpers. He grasped onto my thighs, slowly pushing them forward towards my chest so I opened up entirely. “Do you want to cum, Y/N?” I nodded wantonly. “Tell me… let me hear it…” he coaxed, smoothly lowering himself to my thigh, where he pressed the lightest kiss. So, so close to my aching heat.
“I… Please… I want to cum, Robert…” I sighed, toes curling at the anticipation he had built. “Please… m-make me cum, baby, I need it.”
“I know, my sweet… I know…” he mumbled, kissing lower down. Just a little more… “You need it so bad, honey…” His face hovered over my weeping heat, having the sheer audacity to blow very lightly against it. “Speakin’ of honey… does my lady taste just as sweet as I remember…” He drawled, more of a vocalisation of his inner thoughts than a direct question.
“Robert! Please…” I whined.
He dived in, completely catching me off guard. Face buried as far as it could go, lips latching to my swollen clit, suckling, slurping, and flicking his tongue. He slobbered over it like a starving mongrel. His hair covered my thighs, curls bouncing with the movements of his head as he feasted on my nectar.
“Fuck!” I cried out, my hands shooting downwards to grasp onto his hair, tugging at the roots. He responded with a growl, the vibrations adding to the growing sensations between my legs.
He was feral. To him, this was his last meal.
“Oh…God… Robert, yes! Fuck, don’t stop!” I panted, once again allowing my hips to grind upwards in tandem with his tongue. He skipped further teasing by plunging two of his long fingers into me, curling them upwards and building a strong rhythm to match the way his tongue ravaged my pearl. “Y-yes… I’m… fuck…” I incoherently moaned.
Instead of verbally encouraging me, he simply moaned loudly against me, briefly nodding his head, letting me know it was okay to cum for him. He let out a sharp exhale, putting his all into his assault.
Instinctively pushing his head down, I felt my climax hit. Hard. I arched off of the bed and my head was thrown back into the fluffy pillows. I let out an almost animalistic groan, my breath halting in the process as I rode out the intensity of my orgasm.
Robert gave me the courtesy of letting me rest for a few moments, kissing my core in the process of the comedown. With glistening lips, he watched the aftershock contractions, admiring his work. Then he finally crawled back up to me, grabbing my face and meeting my lips with his, coated in my essence. The kiss was sloppy, and we had very little care for the mixture of fluids that covered both of our faces in the process.
“Robert…” my voice was muffled by his kisses. “Need…need you inside…”
“Already on it, darlin’,” he gasped, pulling himself up onto his knees. He eagerly guided his cock to my awaiting entrance, lubing himself up in the juices he’d conjured. He looked me in the eye as he steadily pushed forward, the thick girth of his manhood stretching me by the second.
My body tingled with the reminder of the burn and sting that accompanied a night with the Golden God. It was delicious.
Robert watched my face, looking for any indication of hesitation on my end. But my body welcomed his, and he easily settled to the hilt within me.
“‘S’that feel okay, baby?” he asked with a hurried whisper.
“Uh-huh…” I clamped down on my lip as I nodded.
“Yeah?” He got as close to me as he could whilst still on his knees. Once again, my legs were being pushed up towards my chest, allowing his cock to press against the most sensitive part of my body.
Robert didn’t waste time. He was unbridled. Primal. Insatiable. His thrusts were quick to set an intense pace, eliciting those lewd slapping sounds each time we collided.
“So good… baby…” he moaned, clenching his jaw and breathing heavily from his nose as he continued to fuck me into the mattress. My own moans and whimpers of ecstasy spurred him on, rolling his hips in a circular motion and maintaining pressure on my sweet spot.
“Oh fuck! Yeah, right there, baby…” I keened, having no choice but to fist at the pillow beside my head.
“Yeah? That the spot, darlin’?” He purred, before bringing one of my legs over so that both of them were pressed together. He rested them both on one of his shoulders, one arm holding onto them, whilst his other hand reached out to grab at my breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers as his thrusts intensified. “Ohhhh… fuuck, you’re so perfect around my cock, sweetheart.”
The positioning of my legs caused every contraction and flutter to be felt with ferocity by Robert. Nobody had ever taken me like this. But then again, nobody is quite like Robert.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, the unexpected rise of another release crawling up through my body. It wasn’t a progressive swell. The warning signs of another orgasm crashed into me, taking me by surprise, which only served to make the experience even more intoxicating.
Robert still had the ability, through his animalistic venture, to flash me that signature smirk as he caught onto my sudden response. He shook his hair from his face as he continued to pound into me. “You there again, darlin’?”
“Y-yeah… oh fuck, yeah, I am…” I whimpered, my chest rising and falling. This was going to be an intense one. And he knew it. So, he moved my leg back to rest atop his other shoulder and leaned down completely over me, folding me in such a visceral manner, though one of my legs fell slightly in the midst of him now slamming in and out of me.
“Come on, Y/N…” he hummed down at me, focusing on my second release before his first. “Show me how hard you can cum, little girl… I know you have it in you… I can feel it…” he breathed out hotly against my lips. His piercing blue eyes were glued to mine, and we maintained intense eye contact.
I huffed and panted in his face, digging my nails into the shoulder my leg had fallen from. It was coming. So close.
“Ah… R…Robert!” I gasped.
“That’s right, honey… you’re almost there… let go… make a mess of me…” He was so lost in the moment that he didn’t care that his thrusts were causing the headboard to start slamming against the wall.
His landscaped pelvis was grinding against my clit, and I could feel his tight balls slapping against me with every movement.
Then it happened.
“Fuck, I’m… I’m c—“ I cut myself off with a shriek, and the loudest cry of pleasure I’d ever mustered up. I came so hard around Robert’s cock, and my nectar wept and wept, soaking the sheets, and soaking both Robert and I. My body jerked and my ears rang, and I heard Robert offer up a breathless chuckle.
“My good girl… fuck! Shit, get ready, baby…” he warned, clasping onto my legs as he chased his high. “Fuck!” He let out the loudest guttural growl, his thrusts transitioning from inconsistent to completely stilled. He steadily and sharply pumped his load into me, filling me up with every inch of his love.
I felt so owned. Claimed. Possessed. Potent with the power and energy of this otherworldly human above me.
Robert writhed in the aftershocks of his release, and he soon let my legs fall back down onto the bed, followed by his own collapse onto my chest. He nuzzled me as we both fought to catch our breathes. I found comfort in the lewd sensations that came with him pulling out of me. I was dripping—soaked.
Robert eventually lifted his head up to look at me and he gave me a long, gentle kiss, accompanied with a sigh. “Sublime…” he whispered hoarsely. “We… definitely need to…get in that…bath, though…” he panted steadily.
I laughed weakly with a feeble nod of my head, “I… absolutely agree…” We had made an absolute mess of the bed, but it was entirely worth it.
“Sorry you only came…twice,” he playfully apologised, shifting to the side so only half of his weight was on me. “Ah well…” he sighed, sweeping some of my damp hair from my face. “Just have to give you…about five next time.”
I raised my eyebrows and turned my head to look at him with hazy eyes. “There’s a next time?”
“Oh, my sweet Little Wayward Girl,” he smirked, “There’s always a next time.”
#robert plant#robert plant x reader#robert plant fanfic#robert plant fanfiction#robert plant smut#led zeppelin#led zeppelin fanfic#led zeppelin fanfiction#1975#1971#rock music#fanfiction#fanfic#one shot#request#70s#1970s#classic rock#writing#writers#writer#fiction#fanfic writer#short story#fanfic writing#bijouxcaryslibrary#fanfics
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Perc'ahlia Week: Free/Random
we did it folks! thanks to everyone who participated in @percahliaweek, esp the good folks who organized this whole thing! it's been so much fun to explore these prompts! here's hoping i stick the landing.
Percival de Rolo III wakes up on his last day knowing that he will not see another dawn. It hardly scares him; if anything, his aching joints have been screaming for rest for ages now, each one creaking and stiff like an unwound clock. He doesn't know where the certainty comes from, only that it doesn't feel macabre or fatalistic. He is going to die today. Better get a move on.
He doesn't begrudge Vex'ahlia's stubborn insistence that he's fine. He doesn't begrudge Vex'ahlia's stubborn anything. He lets her perform her morning ritual as usual, lies still as she grips one of his hands in both of hers and pours into him every ounce of magic she has for the day. The healing doesn't work, because he is not injured, merely human. Still, he smiles and thanks her, and they both pretend that it made things better.
Over breakfast in bed (all of his breakfasts are in bed these days, as are all of his other meals, and in fact the vast majority of his time), he quietly asks her to gather their family. She freezes, her forkful of eggs halfway up to her mouth. His vision is not what it used to be, but she is so beautiful, the golden rays of Pelor's dawn sparkling in her hair, now more silver than brown. She has always glittered, something beautiful and wild, a dragon who made a hoard of his heart.
She sets her fork down. She does not look at him. She asks if he's sure. He says that he is. She believes him, because after seven decades, she knows he is not a liar. It is a feat, the way she schools her expression into something that doesn't shatter his heart in two. She smiles and kisses his cheek. "Of course, darling."
They come, because for the past year or so, they have been preparing themselves for this very thing. Keyleth is called first, and she takes it upon herself to gather the most far-flung. Percy misses most of their arrivals; his energy wanes quickly after breakfast, and he passes in and out of sleep until a pair of lips on his cheek stir him back to consciousness. "Hi, Grandpa."
Vesper's eldest, Whitney, helps him into a sitting position. He feels each and every one of his bones as he moves. Beside her, her husband, an elven man Percy remembers not trusting for years, holds their infant son. Whitney's eyes are red and swollen. "Mimi says you...wanted everyone here."
Percy lets out a coughing laugh; gods above, they're great-grandparents now, and Vex still hates being called grandma. "I don't think I have many goodbyes left in me, dear. Better to get them all out while I can."
She sniffs. "Can't...can't Aunt Kiki do something?"
Slowly, he reaches over to pat her hand where it rests on the bedspread. "Keyleth has done more for me than any man deserves, as has your grandmother, as has Pike. I have seen my share of sunsets and sunrises, Whitney. Time for...better eyes than mine to take a look."
Just then, the door to the master suite opens, and more de Rolos come spilling in like light through an open window. Wolfe is first, one arm around Gwen, clearly keeping her upright; Danny follows, his aunt Cassandra hobbling beside him, leaning heavily on his arm. Danny's followed by his son, Shaun, and Shaun's very pregnant partner, whose name Percy can't remember. It's disorienting, but not the first time Percy's memory has failed him. Once he had the sharpest mind in Whitestone, keen enough to make the inventions that set his home years ahead of the rest of the continent, technologically speaking, but most days now, his mind feels like a sieve, permeable, untrustworthy.
Still, he smiles as the rest of his family spills in, children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, twenty in all, not including Cass, who is given the chair right by his bedside. So many de Rolos, in a castle once entirely empty of them. Percy sees so much of the family he lost in their faces—his mother's eyes, his father's nose, Ludwig's jaw, Whitney's hair—and not for the first time, he knows what it means to be immortal in the most human way.
As they say their goodbyes, as they sniff away tears, as they promise him to do right by their family name, he knows that the legacy he has been chasing his entire life, one not stained with blood and black with smoke, has been a fool's errand. His family is not his legacy. They are people, just as he is, no more, no less. They will be great and they will be terrible and they will make mistakes and they will make the world a better place because the gods know that Percy has been far from a perfect man, but he believes he has done what he can to sow in their hearts the seeds of kindness, charity, empathy. He cannot claim them as his legacy because they are still building legacies of their own, ones that will reach far beyond his time in this realm.
He lets them kiss his cheek. He whispers his love, over and over, endless and true. He smiles and looks into each of their faces, hoping the sieve lasts long enough to carry him into whatever comes next.
.
He doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he awakes, the only de Rolo who remains is Cass. He can't see the white stripe in her hair anymore, because it is all white now. Her eyes are a soft blue, belying her almost complete lack of vision. Percy squeezes her hand. "You still with me, Cass?"
"You're asking me?" They both grin. "I've been trying to get rid of you for years. It's about time you got out of here."
"Yes, well, you remember how Mother used to scold me for being so slow to rise in the mornings."
"That's because you'd stay up until all hours reading."
"Which is why I'm so much smarter than you."
She rolls her eyes, and the air shifts, cools into something more melancholy. "Are you so sure it's now? You seem in such high spirits for a man convinced he's going to die today."
Percy doesn't know how to explain to her the knowing, the certainty in his bones that he could count the number of words he has left. He thinks of a night when they were young, far younger than they are now, when Cass would crawl into his bed during a thunderstorm, shaking and afraid. He tries to explain it the same way he explained to that little girl that the thunder wasn't going to hurt her. "The gods have seen my hubris, my cruelty, my ego throughout the years...and they have loved me anyway. How else do you explain this?" He gestures weakly with his free hand, and he knows that she knows he's not referring to the castle and its riches. "I awoke this morning with my wife beside me in the home that we built, and I felt their calling in my chest. I am not long for this world, Cassandra." Tears slip quickly and silently down her nose. "I'm not afraid. Whatever is coming for me, good, bad, or ugly, it was worth what I experienced here, with my family. With you. I should have died with the rest of our siblings, with Mother and Father, that terrible night. I didn't. Everything after has been...a gift."
"A gift for me." She brings his hand up to her mouth, kisses his papery skin with her thin lips. "Your children and grandchildren, they've been a gift to me, too. Thank you for giving me my family back, Percival."
He smiles, and new fatigue washes over him. His eyes blink slow and long, and she pats his hand. "Rest now, brother. You still have work to do."
He wants to argue, but the sleep rushes over him, dark and warm, like smoke.
.
When Percival de Rolo III awakens for the last time, he is very much not alone. Perched on his left side is Keyleth, timeless and ethereal. The circlet and mantle of her station are gone, and for a moment, they're kids again, the entire world at their feet. Her eyes are glassy, and he has to be impressed that she hasn't started crying yet.
Standing on the foot of the bed, each holding onto a poster, are Pike and Scanlan. Like Keyleth's, neither's face belies much of the past seventy-odd years, but he can't find it in himself to be jealous of all the life they have yet to live. He thinks himself lucky to have had this, such a perfect little slice of the world, fit exactly to size for him.
Between the two of them, already a blubbering mess, is Taryon, the only person in the room who looks the way Percy feels. His liver spots match Percy's, which must drive Tary crazy. He wonders if this is harder or easier for him, given that Tary has already been grieving Lawrence these past six years or so. He hopes that Tary can be of use to Vex, though if he had to guess, he'd think Keyleth is better suited to the task.
Because she is also here, his heart, his Vex'ahlia. She sits at his right hand, where Cass had been earlier, and gently runs her fingers over the inside of his wrist. She has never been anything less the most beautiful creature he's ever seen, and not for the first time, though perhaps for the last, he thanks the gods for allowing her to be his. Well over half a century together, and he knows by the tremulous bob of her throat and the eyes that will not meet his that she is using every ounce of her formidable strength to keep herself in one piece.
"Hey, Percy." He looks back to Scanlan, whose shit-eating grin has not changed a bit in all these years. "If you finally wanted that six-way, you didn't have to say you were dying to get us here. You could have just asked."
Pike punches his shoulder, but Percy laughs. "You'd never...keep up with me...Scanlan."
"Yeah, I bet that's true." He reaches down to pat Percy's foot beneath the blankets. "You always were a better man than me."
"The bar is in hell," Pike grumbles under her breath, and Percy coughs out another laugh. They must be off-again, he guesses. Well, it was nice of them to come, regardless.
"Tary." The man in question cries twice as hard when Percy says his name. "Have I ever told you...how proud I am...of you?"
Tary brings a shaking hand up to wipe at his eyes, and Pike pats his arm reassuringly. "That's what I care about. If a guy like you could see the good in a guy like me...well, I knew I was gonna be okay."
And Tary is more than okay, Percy knows. He's done more good in the world than any of them would have thought possible the day they met him, arrogant and annoying and so very naïve. Percy is proud of him, proud of the work they've done together and apart. Someday, not too long from now, these same people will gather around Tary, usher him as gently from this world as they do for Percy now, and Percy can only hope that they sing his praises as loudly as he deserves.
Pike hops up onto the bed, her socked feet padding over so she can kneel by his elbow in front of Keyleth. She grips her holy symbol, now worn and smoothed, in one hand and rests the other over Percy's heart. "Everlight, please carry my friend into the next life with the same light and compassion he has shown me in our time together." Her voice is strong, but Percy can hear the tremble in it. "As faithful as I have been to you in my life, he has been twice as faithful to me, to his friends, to his family, to the people of Whitestone. And I think you and I both know that faith does not come quite so easily to some as it does to others." She opens one eye to grin at him, and he winks back. She closes the eye again to finish her prayer. "Let his soul rest among his ancestors, and may your benevolent light never stray from those he leaves behind."
There is a long beat of silence, and though his eyes are not what they used to be, Percy swears the mid-afternoon light streaming in from the wrought-iron windows flares just a bit brighter. Pike releases her holy symbol, leans down, and kisses his cheek. "Y'know," she whispers, just loud enough for him to hear, "for someone doomed by the narrative, you did alright for yourself, Percy."
"I couldn't...have done it without you."
The first of Pike's tears falls, and she slips back to the foot of the bed wiping at her eyes. Percy lets his head tip to the side, and Keyleth's face is as red as her hair, her own tears falling fast and loose down cheeks that don't look a day over thirty. "Hey."
"Hey." She sniffs, taking his hand in both of hers. "I know...I have a lot of goodbyes coming my way. Goodbyes I don't even know about because the hellos haven't happened yet. But you...fuck." She scrubs at her eyes with the back of her wrist. "I don't know what my life looks like without you, Percy. I don't wanna find out."
Oh, he truly does not envy her yawning years. He knows no one who deserves to have her heart broken less than Keyleth does, and yet he knows that so much heartbreak awaits her in the millennium to come. He squeezes her hand, and he prays to the Dawnfather that all of that heartbreak does not quiet her, does not harden her heart from the joys this world has to offer. Keyleth was made for sunlight, for spring flowers, for flight. The shadows will come, but they must not dull her shine.
"Keyleth, Voice of the Tempest." He attempts to gather as much authority into his weak voice as he can muster. "I charge you with not just the welfare of Zephrah, but with that of Whitestone, and of Tal'dorei as a whole. There is no one I trust more to act as steward of these people. Your wisdom, your generosity, your empathy...more than ever, you are needed to bestow your gifts upon Exandria. You know..." He smirks up at her. "We've met gods, Keyleth. And this may not be the best time to blaspheme, but they've got nothing on you."
She throws herself onto him, and it hurts, but he takes it. One last hug from his best friend, from the sister he gained after so much loss. Her tears soak into his neck, and for the first time today, his own prickle behind his eyes. He regrets all of the things he will miss, the wonderful accomplishments of his friends, his progeny, his neighbors. It is such a mortal thing, to know that the world will keep spinning in your absence, and to love and hate the spin for it. But someday, even the ageless Voice of the Tempest will rest, and if the gods know any mercy, he will see her again.
Before she pulls away, a shaking, sniffling mess, she whispers in his ear, "Tell him I still love him?"
He nods. He already knows, but Percy will tell him anyways.
As if on cue, there is a small commotion near the one open window on the far side of the chamber, and everyone turns to see a raven, too large to be natural, resting on the sill, as if it has always been there. There is a cracked sob from Percy's right, and he turns his head to see his wife covering her mouth with her hand.
Just enough time left, then.
"Come here." A small tug to her hand, and she's coming up to sit beside him, hip to hip. She brushes his thin, limp hair from his face, and he struggles to bring her hand, wrinkled and beautiful, to his lips. "What a life, eh?"
Her answering smile is watery. "The best one I could have imagined. It's the best gift you've given me."
"Well, I gave you quite a lot."
"It's my love language, darling, and you were always so fluent."
He laughs at that, and it dissolves into a cough. The raven flutters its wings in his periphery. "Let them take care of you?" His eyes cast over their friends before returning to her crumpled face. "We didn't create this wonderful life together for you to be alone when I'm gone. There are so many people who love you, Vex'ahlia de Rolo, and while I will always be the first among them, in this world or the next, I am not worried for you."
Her hair, unbraided and streaked with silver, spills onto his chest as she leans over him. "I'm not worried for you, either. I know that wherever you're going, I'll find you. I'll always find you. It's kind of my thing, after all." She sniffs loudly. "So take my heart with you, alright? I'll want it back when I get there."
"My extraordinary, incomparable wife. My heart, my judgement. My treasure, my salvation."
Crying, she kisses him, and it feels just like it did that first time, in a snow-capped wood, when they were kids and death was just another monster they could slay. He tastes the salt of her tears and the warmth of her skin and he knows every agony, every loss, every sorrow was always and will always be worth her. For the briefest moment, his heart pinches, a desperate wish to stay, but when his final kiss with his wife ends, he's smiling, because how many men can go to their deathbeds with no regrets?
He looks to his friends once more, each one a gift, a story, a legacy, and with a fading voice, says, "Vox Machina. What an honor it's been to change the world with you." His eyelids feel so heavy; he's already slept so much today. To his wife, he murmurs, "Dear, do you mind if I rest for a moment?"
"Of course, darling." She bends down to kiss his cheek. "Rest now. I'll be here."
The last things he sees are Vex's shining eyes, and across the room, a raven taking flight.
.
When Percy opens his eyes, he sees them, his friends, their heads bowed and shoulders trembling. They are circled around his deathbed, and Percy watches them mourn. It's far and away the strangest scene he's ever beheld.
"Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III."
He turns, a smile already coming to his face. Oh, the ease with which he moves! He looks down at his hands—smooth and dexterous, hands he hasn't seen in years. "Would you look at that."
The black-feathered figure in the corner of the room is masked, so Percy can't see his face, but Percy doesn't need to see the smirk to feel it. "A handsome bastard once again, I see."
"Screw you, I was always handsome."
"No arguments here." The Champion of Ravens strides closer, and Percy can't help but feel a bit intimidated. "Welcome home, brother."
And they are embracing, reunited after so many decades of grief. "Thank you," Vax murmurs, in his strange, not-quite-Vax voice. "Thank you for taking care of them."
"It was my privilege." They separate, and the two dead men look at the ones they've left behind. "We still felt your loss. Every day, we navigated the hole your absence created. Them in particular." He gestures to Vex and Keyleth, who hold hands over his body's torso as they weep. "I just hope I did enough to help them find the way."
"You did. And now it's my turn." Vax sweeps a hand back, and the door to the chamber opens, but instead of the marbled hall he's used to, Percy sees only a brilliant, blinding white light.
Percy frowns. "Is Grog in there? To be honest, I thought he'd be the first to greet me. You know how bored he gets without someone to entertain him."
"I'm afraid I don't know. I only walk to dead to their doors. I don't get to see what's inside."
For the first time today, Percy's heart well and truly breaks. "Well, just know that as long as they live—" He jerks his head toward the remaining members of Vox Machina. "—your sacrifice will not be forgotten."
"I live as long as they live."
Percy chuckles. "First the mask, now the quotes—you want to be me so bad."
"Get in the light before I throw your ass in there, Freddie."
Grinning, Percy claps him on the shoulder as he passes by, letting is strong legs and youthful knees take him toward the door. Just a step away from the frame, he stops, bathed in the warm, mysterious light. He looks back one last time at his family, wonderful and perfect and his, and murmurs, "What a nice story, indeed." And then he steps into the light.
#percahliaweek#percahliaweek23#critical role#critical role fic#cr fic#vox machina#vox machina fic#perc'ahlia#perc'ahlia fic#my fic#perc'ahlia week#perc'ahlia week 2023
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Hello again, thank you for answering me despite answering the same question on the same day! (I was the anon who had asked you about your requests being closed :) If that's okay with you, I'd like to send you an idea I have in mind for hcs before I forget about it.
Sooo I've seen in a post of yours you headcanon the saiyans having a mating cycle, and I was wondering if you'd write hcs about that period of time with future trunks? Like how is it spent with him? (Am I making this clear enough? Sorry if not :')
Still, please only write this if you want to and whenever you'd like to! I don't wish you to be pressured or anything. I hope the heatwave will be gone soon; take care of yourself! You're a great writer <3
warnings: breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, mentions of rough sex, the usual smutty suspects here, dirty talk, mating cycle
pairing: Future Trunks x Fem!Reader
a/n: I'm not opening my requests just yet(working on it though!) but I just had to answer this! I hope you enjoy!
SFW
Trunks gets very affectionate and loving during the weeks leading up to his mating cycle. At first, he’s not really sure what’s going on, but he finds it so nice to be close to you.
He finds himself thinking about you constantly. He can’t get you off his mind at all. You’re all he can think about. So nevermind trying to train too hard or to concentrate on anything else, you’ll be his only thought.
Goten is the first to comment on it. Trunks is barely thinking about his next move when Goten is able to knock him off his feet. Trunks will feel so ashamed about it.
He gets hungrier and sleeps a lot more. Bulma will start to complain when she realizes he’s been hoarding plates and mugs in his room.
Then comes the nesting. Trunks goes around finding the most comfortable blankets and pillows in his home. He will make his bed a million times before deciding on the best set up for the both of you.
He’ll start suggesting that you should come over for movie nights and things like that. He’ll get you so comfortably situated in his bedroom and he’ll throw on any of your favorite movies.
Trunks starts to groom himself more and make sure he’s clean and smelling his very best. He’ll find out the scents you like, but he’s very shocked to know that you enjoy his natural scent.
NSFW
It hits him so fucking hard one day. It’s like a horny train rammed right into him. His cock is so hard from when he wakes up until he goes to bed.
He can barely sleep when he’s in this state. It makes him sweat and his heart races. All he can do is jerk himself off until he’s happy. Until he’s satisfied. But that will take a long time.
Trunks will seek you out and he will smell you so much more. He can practically taste your pheromones. It drives him crazy.
Once he finds you, he knows that he has to breed you. It becomes this instinctive action for him at this point. Nothing else matters when he realizes this.
First, he’ll make you cum so many times. He enjoys being between your thighs when he’s in heat. He laps and slurps at your pussy like a starved man.
Once Trunks is sure that you are most definitely satisfied, he’ll have you on your back first.
Mating press is the position he uses first and for the last session of the night as well. It just makes it perfect for what he is doing.
He alternates from being rough and fast to being so sweet and whiny. You aren’t sure which one is your favorite, but since he switches from one mode to the other quickly, you don’t even care to choose a favorite.
“Baby,” he chokes out. “How are you this fucking tight?” He ruts against you like it’s the only thing he knows to do. It’s such a steady pace, and the way his cock just bullies into you over and over, you’ll fall off the edge soon.
Another one of his favorite positions? Doggy style! He will push you down onto the bed, face down and ass up. He spreads your cheeks and lets his cock slide between them.
Just when you’re sure he’s going to push it in, he pulls away. Then you’re left with a few seconds of hesitation. Before long, he’s ramming into you at a breakneck speed.
Your little moans and whimpers really turn him on. He feels like a wild animal when he fucks you like this. This is when he really feels like a Saiyan. It’s more animalistic than any other sex he’s ever had.
He loves to cum inside of you, but he’s not opposed to marking you up with his seed. You’ll wear it on your face, tits and ass before the night is through.
Trunks will growl and grunt through every sentence, whether it be praising you or degrading you. The man just says the filthiest things to you.
“Needy little human, you can just barely take my cock.” “So fucking tight, baby. It’s like you were made for my cock.” “Hngg! If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m going to cum so quick.” “Love this wet, little pussy. All mine forever.”
When he’s finally done, he spends lots of time on aftercare. You are his lover after all. He wants to make sure you’re well after such an intense session.
Lots of nesting here too. He will fluffy up the pillows, change the sheets, snuggle you. Trunks will get you anything to eat or drink afterwards.
And then once he’s had his fill and has taken care of you, he sleeps for a long time. Being in his mating cycle makes him so tired. He will be exhausted.
#bacon.writes#future trunks#future trunks x you#future trunks x fem!reader#future trunks x reader#future trunks x y/n#trunks x you#trunks x reader#trunks x fem!reader#trunks x y/n#trunks smut#future trunks smut#trunks briefs#dragon ball#dragon ball z#dragon ball super
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To Victory ↠ Danse x Reader
➼ Word Count » 0.8k
➼ Warnings » None
➼ Summary » Danse has a crush on you and doesn't know how to communicate that.
"Get behind me, soldier!" Danse shouted, clicking the safety off his gun as he moved to shield you from the hoard of ferals sprinting your way.
"Why do you keep doing that?" You asked once everything had been killed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You keep stepping out in front of me. I've taken on ferals before, you know? I could've killed them." You smiled as you spoke. For a while now, Danse had been quick to defend you from any slight danger the two of you encountered on your mission. It was nice of him to do and you appreciated the gesture, but it wasn't at all necessary.
"I―uh, I do it for everyone." He sheepishly said.
"For squires maybe, but I've never seen you do it for any of the other knights." You were trying hard to meet his gaze, but he seemed to hold it strictly ahead.
Your statement seemed to fluster him as he started to stutter, "I―are you sure?"
"I'm sure." You giggled, "Maybe I'm just special." You teased, grinning when you saw how embarrassed he was quickly becoming. "Anyway," You began, "what's first on the list?"
"Maxson's sent us to clear out a building in Lexington. We wipe out everything in it, and then we're done for the day." He recited, messing with something on the side of his gun.
You shrugged, "Sounds simple enough. Are you doing anything after? Maybe we could go get a drink or something?"
"A―uh, a drink? From where?"
"The Prydwen I reckon. Unless you wanted to go all the way down to Diamond City, but that's a far walk. I'd rather just alert a Vertibird to our location and fly back home, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah―let's get a drink after this."
You nudged his shoulder with your own as you walked―or more so his side as he towered over you in his power armor, "No need to be so stiff, we've shared a bed before, remember? What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on, I'm perfectly fine, soldier." He answered, still avoiding your gaze.
You hummed, "If you so say."
You coughed as the smoke signal from the Vertibird grenade floated upward into the sky, calling the two of you a much-needed ride. The Super Duper Mart was packed full of ferals when you entered, and completely empty when you left. It was easy work for the two of you, even if Danse was on edge the entire time.
"Good work out there," Danse announced, hesitantly placing his hand on your shoulder once the two of you border the large machine.
"Thanks, Danse. We needed something easy after the last mission at Fort Strong."
The bar on the Prydwen was clustered, full of your coworkers as it usually is in the late afternoons. Tons of people stood together in the singular hallway where the weapon and drinks were being sold, the majority being there for both services. You felt yourself being pushed into Danse on multiple occasions, having to apologize after every shove.
"Cheers to another victory?" You spoke, holding your bottle out towards your companion, resting your hand on his arm to stabilize yourself in the overflowing crowd.
He grinned at you, clinking his glass with your own, "Yeah, cheers to our victory."
You stared at him expectantly for a moment, watching him take a sip of his drink, "So, you gonna tell me what's wrong?"
"What do you mean?"
"C'mon, Danse, don't act like you haven't been acting stranger lately, you're all awkward and shit. What's going on?"
"I just―have a lot on my mind." He vaguely admitted, focusing his gaze on his glass intently.
"Oh yeah? And what's the big thing you're keeping secret?" You asked, leaning closer to the bigger man.
"Ask me again later." He responded, "I rather not be around so many people when I tell you."
The subject was then forgotten about as you rambled to him about your week, him adding his input as you went before the two of you went off to your respective bunkers. Danse's heart ached for you every step of the way as he watched you disappear out of sight. He'd tell you how he felt one day, it just had to be the right time. He just prayed that time would come soon, or never at all, that'd be nice. He wished he could just sweep it all under the rug and forget about it. He hated the way he worried for you, it did nothing but make him tense. You both had a victory on your most recent mission, but he still didn't make any more progress on admitting his feelings for you, it'd have to remain a battle for another day.
#fallout 4#fallout#fo4#fo4 sole survivor#sole survivor#sole#sole survivor fo4#danse fallout 4#fallout danse#danse fo4#paladin danse#fo4 danse#fallout 4 danse#danse x sole#danse x sole survivor#paladin danse x sole survivor#paladin danse x sole#danse x reader#paladin danse x reader
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Masquerade
Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader
Warnings: Homophobia and abuse. Lowkey wrote this bc some ppl in my family are pretty homophobic and I figured I'd try to write out how I feel and all that shit. Anyways, that's why this is how it is.
Summary: Reader runs into a stranger who makes the boring dance she's forced to attend slightly more tolerable.
* Not Proof Read * TLOU Masterlist
Idfk how royal shit works so that part of this might be bad. Just play along.
*****
I look around at the happy girls twirling around me. How the fuck are they so enthusiastic about being here? These shoes are killing me. This mask is itching my face. My clothes are irritating me. I want to go home.
I danced with one man already, can't that be enough to please my mother?
I can feel her frustrated gaze on the side of my face. All she wants is for me to marry a nice man. A nice rich man.
What she doesn't understand-what she refuses to understand, is that she'll never get that. No matter how many times I tell her, she seems to think one day the right man will come along and change my mind.
" I take it you're not a dancer? " A voice asks from my side.
" Quite the opposite. I like dancing. It's the people I hate. The parties. The drama. My mother. " I nod slightly in the direction of my mother. She's thankfully been roped into a conversation with another socialite. At least she's distracted.
" Parties are...draining. " The woman agrees.
I glance over at her, my posture quickly straightening. Even with the dark lacey mask that takes over majority of her face, I know exactly who it is. Her elegant dark blue suit is a stark contrast in outfit choices from many of the other guests, most opting for black or white.
" Princess Ellie. " I mutter while taking a deep curtsy. " I had no idea. I'm so sorry. "
Of course, only I'd be luck enough to shit talk a royal dance to the person who helped throw it.
" Oh please. Stand up. " Princess Ellie's voice is laced with annoyance.
Confused, I look up at the woman.
" It wasn't my idea for this stupid party. Sarah's been wanting to throw one for weeks. Of course I got roped into helping her. " Princess Ellie doesn't move from her spot against the wall. She takes a sip from her drink, eyeing me up.
I shift, slightly uncomfortable.
" You're welcome to lean back against the wall. " She nods to my previously taken spot. A glimmer of playfulness shines in her eyes. " I don't bite, I promise. "
Carefully, I take my spot back to the princess. " If you don't like parties, why did you come? " I ask curiously.
Princess Ellie shrugs, her shoulders brushing against mine. " Had nothing better to do. Figured I might as well find some pretty girls to talk to . " She grins slightly.
A feel a warm rush climb up my cheeks.
Of course I knew Princess Ellie was gay. Everyone and their mother knows. It caused quite the controversy when she was first caught making out with her now ex-girlfriend in front of thousands of people at her 17th birthday party.
I thought it was nice. I didn't feel so...alone. It was nice to feel normal, like my feelings were okay.
My mother didn't think so. She refuses to attend anything with Princess Ellie, insisting it'll 'ruin' me further.
" What's your name, pretty girl? " Princess Ellie asks, turning her body towards mine. She leans against her arm, cocking her head to the side. Her warm green eyes stare into mine, sending a hoard of butterflies tumbling through my chest.
" Y/N. " I manage to reply. " Y/N of Weston. "
" Well, Y/N of Weston, I'd love to take you- " Princess Ellie is interrupted.
" Y/N! " My mother shrieks. She roughly grabs my hand, pulling my away from the princess. She quickly curtsies and mumbles a polite 'your highness' before turning to me. " Apologies, Your highness but we have to go. "
" But mother-" I being to protest, trying to pull away. The tightness of her grip sends pain through my wrist. " Fuck, mom! " I yelp. I can already feel the bruise forming. My mother doesn't let up.
" Y/N no. " My mother's eyes are fierce, an anger I've never seen before flashing through them.
" Lessen your grip! " Princess Ellie orders, her voice laced with concern. " You're hurting them! "
The loud music has died down. All attention has turned to us. My mother, now clearly embarrassed from the situation, pulls me more urgently.
" What is going on here? " A voice asks. All chatter around the room quiets down.
The king.
My mother's eyes widen. " You're majesty! I'm so sorry. My daughter...she's not listening. You know, children. My husband...he's fallen ill. I'm merely trying to get her home. Our page just sent news. He's had a stroke. Forgive me for disturbing your dance. "
My heart drops. " What? "
My mother doesn't look at me. " Your father has had a stroke. "
Fear runs through my body. No! He can't be ill. He was doing just fine earlier. What happened?
King Joel scans over my expression, trying to decide what to do. " You may go. But release your daughter. "
My mother nods, letting go of my wrist. " Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you. Come now, Y/N. We must go. "
I glance up at Ellie. Her face displays concern and disbelief. She quickly turns to her father, whispering something into his ear. He brushes it off, shaking his head.
My mother and I curtsy and quickly turn to leave. I numbly follow in her footsteps.
This doesn't make sense? How did the page get here so fast? Our home is hours away from the palace. How was he able to get here so quickly?
Once we're down the long row of stairs, my mother grabs onto my arm. " You know better than to fraternize with the princess. " She hisses, pushing me into our carriage.
Confusion fills my body. " What? We were just talking. "
My mother glares at me. " You don't talk to women like her. You know this, Y/N. "
A pit begins building in my stomach. " Dad didn't have a stroke, did he. "
My mother's gaze doesn't faulter. " No. You are no longer allowed to go to parties at the palace. If you can't find a suitor for yourself, I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands. I'll be picking a suitor for you. I already have the perfect boy. You're to be married in 2 months. "
My heart drops. " Mother, no! "
" I tried, Y/N. I really did. " She shakes her head. " I tried to let you grow out of this faze. To let you find a good man. You leave me no choice. You'll learn to love him just as I learned to love your father. "
" Please mother, you can't do this. " My voice is filled with desperation. I don't want to get married to a stranger. All I did was talk to Princess Ellie! " Please. "
My mother doesn't crack. " You'll thank me later. "
#ellie williams x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#ellie the last of us#ellie williams x you#ellie x you#ellie williams#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams x female reader#ellie tlou#ellie williams drabble#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams x y/n#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader#ellie x y/n
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Who they need (It's not me) -Deceiver Au; Chapter 2
TW: People getting hurt at the hands of an unstable teenager and swearing
Chapter 1
Camilo was deeply seething in his room as he paced back and forth on stage. People were still expecting him to babysit their kids like there isn't any other person eligible for the job in the entire Encanto.
You should've seen the hoard of parents in his face with their children in tow. They all looked stressed, irritated, and/or desperate. Camilo felt bad, truly he did, but that sympathy was quickly replaced by anger and utter disgust.
They were all asking him to watch their kids for a few hours when he just wanted peace to hang out with his friends. Some of the kids to ask the same thing, unknowingly trying to guilt trip him as their parents were.
Others somehow figured it was the best time to ask him if he could shift into Luisa or some other figure to help them with something.
Without thinking he just pushed pass the crowd of people and ran back to Casita. This was supposed to be a happy day for him for f*ck sake!
He got the makeover that he wanted, and he really wanted to show it off to his friends. But some people couldn't understand the word NO!
And this has been happening for over two and a half weeks now. Some parents won't even say anything, they just drop the kid(s) off wherever he's standing. The parents disappear so quickly he just has to put up with it until they come back for their child(ren).
On other occasions some adults would just order him to do something.
"Camilo, I need Luisa to help me with donkeys but she won't help. Maybe you-"
"Camilo, I need you to help me lift these bricks-"
"You can turn into animals now, right? can you help with-"
"Please, I just need a few hours alone. You want to help me, don't you?"
And the kids (either with their parents or just out and about) didn't help. Not that he would put anything against them, they are just kids.
"Camilo, I want to play a game with you! You always have fun games to play"
"Tell us a story por favor, I want a story!"
"Can we play hide & seek in the corn fields"
"Camilo, I need help with this, Camilo I need help with that! I just want a break, why can't I catch a fucking break?! It's like my old life all over again. Thanks Mirabel, for being such a HELPFUL PAIN IN MY ASS!" He thought to himself. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't have gotten his gift back no one would be bothering him.
"I'm starting to hate my own fucking name because of these people..."
And what makes matters worse is that is that people are starting to blame him for shit that he didn't do again. Little pranks here and there that do seem like something he would do. They are coming less believable to his family of course but that doesn't mean he's any less tired of it.
Did I mention that Camilo's shapeshifting mishap has become a joke around Encanto?
Whenever he walks around, he can see people looking at him and snickering, giggling, and just don't right laughing. Some even verbally reminding him of it while laughing IN FRONT OF HIM!
"Oh boy Milo, you are some jokester aren't you? Do you think you can do that again?"
"Hey niño animal, you gonna shift and cry again?"
For this past month, it's been taking EVERYTHING in Camilo to not act on petty urges. The urges to burn, break, and just cause chaos to everything and everyone in Encanto.
Why was he holding back? Because he wanted to give the villagers a chance. Some had seemed so nice and respectful he thought they might have changed their ways. He also wanted to spend more time with HIS side of the family.
Consequently, causing his pure rage from when he was five years old to now to bubble over.
Wait...
The miracle came back November 30th, it was now December 20th, just a few more days until Christmas, and then his birthday.
A thought came to mind, there was so much he could do in that time. A little gift to himself for all the shit he's put up with. Camilo smile lit up and so did his eyes, a powerful green and purple glow to them.
youtube
"I can become small just like I can turn tall I can become the person you think you'll need-"
Camilo shifted into a mouse and then a jaguar. Then a capybara, slowly shifting into any and every animal he thought of just for quick practice. Mirrors sat in the audience as showed every animal and person he shifted into.
From Alma, to Pepa, to Dolores, to Luisa, and to Isabela. He pretended to be them with their own mannerisms as he sang and twirled around.
"I can become you; no one knows It's not true. So, you really think I'll be the person you need?"
Now that Camilo was finally coming to terms with his urges. He'll do what everyone wants him to do. But it'll come with a consequence.
"I need your face to help me do what I need, so tell me who you need from me, and I get you dealt with. The person you need me to be that person will never be me...will it?"
Camilo shifted into Antonio and looked at one of the mirrors sitting on an audience seat. He touched the mirror and smiled mischievously.
"I can become cute-," He then shifted into Mariano, "Just like I can turn brute I can become the person you think you'll need"
Milo then shifted into Mirabel, the girl he very much despised at the moment. "I can become you; No one knows it's not true so you're who they need?"
Camilo thought about it "I would love nothing more than to ruin her reputation. She's the on who put me in this mess after all"...but doing something in Mirabel's form wouldn't go well in his favor. Everyone will know it's him causing the trouble so what's the point?
He rolled his eyes and thought about someone else, Oh...Milan Gonzalo. The man who liked to drop off his bratty entitled children for hours at a time until dinner came around. Milo shifted into him in an instant-
"I need your face to help me do what I need, so tell me who you need from me, and I get you dealt with. The person you need me to be that person will never be me...will it?"
He thought of ways to ruin his life and remembered he has a big shoe store.
A perfect place to destroy.
"Me, myself, and I oh now I know them. I'll just become another lie the real me will destroy them."
("Me, myself, and I we all will try to be that lie we will be that phony lie")
Camilo climbed on top of his stage and ran over to his dresser. He pulled the upper drawer open and rummaged through the scissors, paper, and pens until he found what he was looking for.
A pack of matches.
Once he had them in his right hand he smiled sinisterly as he clutched them and put them in his right pocket. With a quick pace Camilo left his room.
On the way to the village, he shifted into a hummingbird and flew over the villagers. He loved the feeling of the air in his wings and the feeling of superiority he had over the people below him.
After turning a few corners and down a few alley ways, he made it to Milan's shoe store. Oh, how well kept and pristine it was. Too bad it wasn't going to stay that way.
He perched himself on a bench next to the shop in a butterfly form and waited for someone to go in. Luckily, the main man himself, Milan, walked out of his store.
Camilo noticed he had keys in his hands, so it was obvious he was about to lock up.
"Why couldn't he be inside while I burn this place down? just a little burn wouldn't do much."
Quickly, Milo turned into a mosquito and flew as fast as he could into the store. He landed on the hard wooden floor of the establishment. The warmth shining through the glass made the floor warm to the touch.
Milo shifted back into himself but remained crouched because there were glass windows in front of the shop, and he didn't want to risk being seen.
Some shoes were put on display behind the glass and by how high up they were, which was four feet, he could hide a little bit.
He took the match pack out of his pocket, pressed the match head into the striker, and dragged the head along the striker. Resulting in a small little flame.
It flickered and shined brightly in Camilo's eyes. Those held hateful and petty intent mixed with mischievous joy. Camilo carefully placed a match into a shoe and lit another match, doing the same thing over and over again.
He was happily torching every shoe in sight until he landed on some orange and yellow espadrilles (shoes similar to Dolores'/Pepa's).
"Hm, I need some new shoes" Like he didn't have ten new pairs at home.
Camilo grabbed the shoes, took off his old ones, and put on the new ones. Perfect fit!
This was so thrilling for him. Burning down the store of one of the people who used him while they did only God knows what. The feeling was incredible.
As of right now, the entire place was smelling like smoke and the matches were starting to do their job. But he lit a couple more matches and just threw them about. He needed this process to be a lot quicker.
Before the smell of fire fully got onto him, Camilo shifted into a mosquito again and flapped his tiny wings through the keyhole. When he saw no one was watching he shifted into a hummingbird again and sat on top of the shoe store.
He sat there for five minutes until he got bored and flew away to cause havoc to someone else. No one noticed the store was burning yet. Milo thought of who to f*ck with next. So many candidates!
Camilo looked down at the villagers and noticed a certain person scurrying around. The well-known bully, Esteban Curillo. The entire Encanto despised him and his puta chismosa of a mother.
Esteban could literally murder someone and Dulce, his mother, would deny it. "He would never do such a thing" kind of mama. Milo thought about how Esteban and Dulce sort of mirrored him and Pepa, but he quickly denied those thoughts.
There's no way in hell we're the same...well, maybe a little. But I'm not an asshole like he is.
He remembers how Estaban constantly used to annoy and verbally bully him in school. He still attempts to, and it's been getting on Milo's absolute nerve.
Then he remembered some gossip between students where Esteban got into a fight with his aunt a few weeks ago, one of the many bakers in Encanto. Something about how she banned him from her bakery because he actively destroys and steal stuff from it.
And when the blame couldn't be placed on Esteban, surely the next best person to blame was Camilo. He hated that. Esteban also didn't know the meaning of the word "NO" and girls utterly despised him for it.
Perfect target number two
And Camilo just so happened to be a frequent person in that bakery of hers. This was going to be fun. Sure, he was going to feel bad for what he was about to do because Esmerelda is a nice woman but...he needed to blow off steam.
He flew over to her bakery and unfortunately...it was crowded. There wasn't much he could do right now. He'll come to do what he needed to do tonight tho.
"Dammit!...wait, this doesn't mean I can do other things." Camilo thought about what he could do. Then he got it...he was about to an absolute menace...in Esteban's form.
So, that's what he did. Camilo hid behind a house and shifted into the slightly older male. Short brown hair, skin like Tio Agustin's, brown eyes, and a plain dusty blue ruana and grey pants.
The first thing he did was steal some firecrackers, fireworks, and picked up some rocks he found around. He set some firecrackers off in Acacia Herrera's hair, the town *cough* tissue wipe *cough* and home Recker. A woman who also left all of her four kids with Camilo when she didn't feel like watching them. Which would also be for hours at a time.
He smashed windows of shops, threw rocks into windows, destroyed any sort of property of he could. All of which belonged to people who used or made fun of him in some sort of way. And maybe some other random places just for some self-indulgence. (And to keep his tracks unnoticeable)
Milo's heart was beating so freaking fast. There were times where he had to stop and take a break to calm himself down. He knew Dolores was probably listening to what was going on and the last thing he needed was her to be suspicious of him.
His last evil deed was done with fireworks. He walked past a bar and decided to snoop just in case there was anyone in there he recognized. He shifted into a ladybug and flew in
Turns out, 40% parents who forced him to babysit for long hours or just folks who forced him to do tiring ass labor for dumb reasons were in that bar. It wasn't much but still enough to cause him to shift back into Esteban, light up a bunch of fireworks and toss them in.
How could he recognize them? Camilo shapeshifts for a reason; it's built into him to remembering everything about faces at this point. Even when he doesn't mean to.
Sure, there were innocents in there, but Cami really didn't think about that. revenge and pettiness was the only thing on his mind at the moment.
Oh, how colorful all that was. Seeing the fireworks shoot out of the bar so magically and beautifully.
His face:
People were running off shrieking or attempting to dodge the sparks coming at them. Camilo was just amazed. However, he quickly had to get his ass up out of there because the sparks were flying everywhere...and he didn't want to risk getting caught.
All of this was so exciting for him. One of the reasons he was so happy without a care is because that the smart portion of the village, and his family, knows HE would never do any of this.
The Camilo they knew would leave ink on your toothbrush at best, not vandalize, steal, or just cause terror amongst people like ESTEBAN does.
That boy has been known to do these kinds of things before but only at a small scale. But still, multiple people have seen him do all those things.
There's no way people could pin the blame on Camilo this time. And even if they do, they are more than likely going to get a lightning strike and a slap to the face.
He was causing havoc for at least three more hours until it was time for dinner. By then he was really tired, and all of that steam dissipated into pure exhaustion.
He was panting as he still tried to calm himself down. After his heart was steady, he shifted back into himself and slowly walked down they alleyway and turned a corner to get to Casita.
Milo's reign of terror started at 3:30 and ended at 6:45. He didn't exactly know the time, but he knew the sun was setting and that meant it was almost time to go home.
In the meantime, he stopped everything and decided to hang out with his friends. The ones he could find that is. His energy was mostly drained, but he was still able to talk and joke around with them.
By 7:39 it was full time to go home so he bid his friends goodbye and slowly walked home.
He could see his parents walking up ahead of him. Milo saw them hanging on each other, Pepa's arm around Felix's shoulder and Felix's arm around Pepa's waist.
Pepa kisses his cheek and leaned on him, so sweet...of course Camilo didn't think so. Gross, adult love.
The teen boy rolled his eyes at the sight but kept his pace slow. He was in no mood to speed up. Camilo looked behind him and there was Antonio on Luisa's shoulders.
On her left was Isabela and Mirabel, with Dolores on Luisa's right. They were talking about something. Something Camilo cared less to listen to.
Milo turned around and thought back to the events of today, the very start of all the more chaos he'll cause. He smiled warmly at the thought, so much chaos before his birthday. How nice.
Soon enough, he made it into Casita with the others.
"Alright Milo, you know someone is going to say something so just act dumb"
After everyone greeted each other with small talk, they got ready for dinner. Camilo quickly went up to his room and changed, he didn't need anyone smelling any trace of smoke on him.
Once that was done, he came down and sat next to Dolores and his mother.
Sudado de pollo was served for dinner and as always, it's good food. Luisa's favorite actually! Julieta came up with a plan to start cooking meals that are favorites of certain family members. She does it in a pattern according to age.
It'll soon be Camilo's turn seeing as he's the middle child like Luisa.
Everyone talked about their days and Camilo listened, or at least tried to. His mind kept drifting to all the other things he may do before Christmas and his birthday.
Should I become a murderous villain?...hmmm. Eh, seems fun but also WAY too much work. I'm already going to do enough work, but if the situation calls for it, I might-
"CAMILO!"
The boy snapped out of his thoughts and looked to where the voice came from, Isabela.
"Wha?" Camilo asked in confusion. His chameleon earrings dangling with the movement of his head.
"Esteban, he's been the embodiment of chaos all day, didn't you hear?" Isabela asked in an annoyed tone. She wasn't upset at Camilo, just the situation.
"Uh yeah, I did. He's been crazy all day...I wonder why" Camilo tried to sound a little bit concerned but not too over the top.
"He hurt a lot of people," Mirabel added worriedly.
"Are they okay?" Camilo asked
"Si, I healed them" Julieta admitted to him. "I don't what got into that boy but good god he needs to be locked up!" she added with a soft but stern tone.
"You just HAD to heal them Tia...just great" Camilo bitterly thought to himself.
"What would drive him to do all that? and act like he didn't do it?!" Luisa asked with a confused expression.
"What would drive his mother to say it's all lies or that Camilo did it." Dolores muttered quietly but it was loud enough for Camilo and Pepa to hear. Seeing as they were right next to her on both sides.
"And that poor man Milan, his injuries weren't bad but he still had them..." Julieta felt sad at the memory. Unbeknownst to Camilo, Milan went back to his store and saw that everything was on fire.
In an act of stupidity, he ran inside attempting to get a family heirloom from the back part of the small building. Somethings started collapsing/caving in but he made it out with some small burns.
"What...what happened to him?" Camilo asked quietly as he tried not to seem suspicious.
"He got hurt in a fire; it was his shoe shop. Esteban's doing no doubt!" Julie answered with a little bit a fury in her eyes. She was SURE it was his doing.
This almost made Camilo smile. That miserable energy sucking asshole got hurt? Oh goodie! but he had to remind himself that he's around people that don't think like him.
"No laughing or smiling until I get in my room, don't you laugh you idiot!"
"Well, at least he's okay..." Camilo smiled gratefully and slowly turned it into a frown. He was really trying his best to seem worried.
"It would've been better if he actually died, those kids would be better off without him. They have a mom and an uncle from what they've told me so they at least wouldn't be alone. hmm, maybe I should lock him in next time...did I just seriously think that?...."
"His mother had the audacity to blame Camilo." Dolores said with a bitter tone. A dark cloud appeared over Pepa's head, and it thundered.
Pepa snapped her head over to her eldest and only daughter, "SHE WHAT?!"
"Are you serious?" Felix asked with an offended expression.
"Si papa, mami" Dolores' expression still remained stern with a hard gaze at her food.
"Oh, I can't stand that woman! Always blaming Camilo when in fact it was always that diablo of a son!" Alma fumed alongside her middle daughter and her husband, slamming her hand on the table.
"This is so fucking hilarious!" Camilo thought to himself. They didn't believe Esteban or his mother. None of them did. Or at least the right amount of them.
Isabela and Mirabel were a little suspicious but didn't want to say anything. Dolores did think that it could have been Camilo, but he would never do ANYTHING like what Esteban has done today.
"He would be much too afraid to do that. Not to mention way too respectful and just too nice" Dolores thought to herself. Instantly pushing away any assumptions she had.
Dinner carried on as usual with everybody talking about different topics. Soon it came time for everyone to head off to bed for some shuteye or at least a break.
He went up to his room door and touched the doorknob. A happy smile on his face as he thought about tomorrow-
"Camilo! Me and the girls are having a sleepover, want to come?" A bubbly and chipper voice said. He recognized that voice. Mirabel.
He looked to the right of him and saw all four girls staring at him in child-like glee. Camilo wanted to but A; Mirabel, the main person who put him back in the situation he was in seven months ago, was going to be there. And B: He was tired.
"We're gonna tell stories" Dolores said, knowing full well Camilo loved storytelling. And she hoped this could get his mind off of today because she knows that being blamed for everything can't be good on his mental, no matter how much he smiles.
"Do makeovers" Isabela added with a nod
"And gossip, we know you love gossip!" Luisa admitted with a smile.
"We can play games too!"
Camilo smiled as politely as he could to not seem irritated or annoyed. "Uh...No, I'm a little tired, you girls have fun though"
"But-"
In less than a second, he was in his room and locked the door. A deep sigh escaped him as he leaned up against the door. He needed a long bath, and time to himself to truly process what the hell happened today.
"He's hiding something" Isa pointed out with narrowed eyes as she looked at his glowing door.
"How can you tell?" Mirabel asked, Dolores was equally questioning how she stumbled upon that assumption.
"When has he, for the past seven months, denied a sleepover with us?"
"Can't he just be tired? he did look tired" Luisa said with a shrug and raised brow.
"He once sat up with us until 3 AM and still lasted ten minutes...besides. Did he really say what he was doing all day?"
Dolores didn't like where this was going, and she knew where Isa was going with this. "Isabela Valentina Rojas Madrigal, if you somehow even ATTEMPT to bring that Esteban up and dare even HINT at something, so help me..."
Isabela put her hands up and backed away "I- I wasn't going to!"
"Then what were you going to say?" Dolores eyed her primana, silently daring her to admit what she was thinking.
"I was only saying that....never mind..." Isabela scratched the back of her neck and looked away. It was in her best interest to keep whatever thought she had to herself.
"Mhm, that's what I thought. Now let's have our sleepover but I lose patients"
Now, Dolores isn't stupid. Quite the opposite really, over the years she's learned to spot when people were lying or telling the truth. Especially when it came to her younger primas and siblings.
Something in her urged to look into her suspicions of Camilo but she also wanted to cut him some slack. He's been through a lot AND she knows her brother. He would never set fire to a store or...burn people with fireworks...would he?
-
UGH!! FINISHED! This took way longer than I thought it would
@thefourchimes
@miracles-and-butterflies
@evostar
I feel like this chapter is lacking a bit so if you have any ideas, let me know.
#Youtube#encanto deceiver au#encanto fanfic#encanto au#au#reblogs are appreciated!#comments as well#encanto
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Just a some thoughts based on the idea of Bones being one of the Nine instead of Jim.
"Didn't take you for the sneaking out of class type," Jim said by way of greeting when he came back into the dorm. He was surprised to see his roommate lying on top of his blankets in bed.
"I didn't sneak out," Len answered flatly, without sitting up. "Pike pulled some strings for me."
Jim paused, processing his words before setting down his bag. "Yeah. He did the same for me. I was there with my mom. Guess he was too afraid to take action against a Starfleet officer or her family. So I guess, you were there too?" He sat on his own bed, facing Bones.
Len nodded. "One of the Nine," he answered hollowly, staring at nothing in particular.
Jim's face fell, eyes going wide.
"Don't feel bad," Len told him. It wasn't hard to guess the thoughts racing through Jim's mind. He had a bad enough case of survivor's guilt as it was. Dodging an execution order that he had no control over would only add to that. "He's the only one to blame."
Jim sighed silently and nodded. Bones was right, of course, but that didn't take away the weight in the room. "You're right, but...I'm still sorry you had to go through that."
"I'm sorry you did too. I don't wanna get into the Trauma Olympics about it. It still hurt you too."
Jim nodded. "Yeah, it did. Are you okay?"
Bones sighed. "I will be. You?"
Jim smiled faintly. "I will be."
"Jim?"
"Yeah, Bones?"
"I know it's easier said than done, but...don't treat me differently, okay? It's...not gonna be an easy few weeks, but I've worked really hard to get where I am and...I don't want..."
"It's okay," Jim replied, softly. "I get it. I'll do my best," he promised. "And. I'd ask you do the same."
Bones nodded. "Gonna be honest, it explains a lot. Both of us hoarding food, both of us basically having an eating schedule."
"Yeah, it does," Jim admitted. He sighed. "Y'know...maybe it's not a bad thing, us knowing and...maybe even treating each other differently. Not pitying," he assured, "but...acknowledging. Bones, no one else is going to get it. We don't have to pretend like it didn't happened with each other and I think we both need that. Because honestly? If we're already saying 'that explains a lot' about each other...we knew something was wrong. We just didn't have a name for it. And now we do. I think there's a difference in being informed about each other and letting that influence how we interact and 'treating each other differently'."
Bones nodded. "Maybe you're right," he said quietly.
Jim stood and sat next to Bones and began rubbing between his shoulders. "We're safe, Bones. Us being together now is proof we made it, proof We're safe. We're gonna be okay."
"Thanks, Jim."
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Hello! I saw your requests are open, and I was wondering if you could write some headcanons either for Hector Barbossa or Davy Jones. I recently rewatched PotC and somehow fell for both of them <3 I can't really decide between them though, so I'll leave the choice to you for which of them you want to write (of course you can also do both but I don't want to ask for too much)
For the scenario I don't have anything specific in mind, I'd appreciate any cute fluff honestly. If you want some kind of guideline, maybe something along the lines "how they express their love for their s/o" (the reader can be female or gender-neutral), but if you have a different idea feel free to write that instead^^
I'd be happy if you can make something from my request :D
I am. SO sorry for how long it has taken for me to get to this request - thank you so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy some quality fluff for these crusty old men:
(I tend to write any x Readers as gender neutral by default)
Barbossa X Reader Fluff Headcannons
Barbossa, for all his grandeur and posturing, doesn't actually want you to be the meek pushover kind of partner.
He's an unrepentant drama queen with a childish streak and a love of games. If anything, what he wants is a partner with enough gumption to meet his antics head on.
AKA he wants to argue with you enough that you steal his hat, run around his cabin with him in hot pursuit and then snog under the stars once he catches you. Yknow. #JustCaptainThings
He's going to be dramatic 24/7. It's just his nature at this point. You can't change it. Jack is insane, Norrington is noble, Jones has a pout strong enough to put the sea itself on the housing market and Barbossa is waxing lyrical at the wheel while you turn a spectacular shade of red and the crew desperately avoids eye contact.
You're getting draped in the spoils of the pirate hoard whether you want it or not. Just waking up absolutely draped in pearls and jewels while he parses the rest of the stash for the right shade of silk to match your eyes.
He's a touchy guy. Wants you close by at all times if not all but draped over him. Will not hesitate to pull you into his lap. Get comfy.
If somebody has to gall to disrespect you he has two modes:
1. You deal with the offender yourself while he watches from the top railing - all but hollering 'That be my WIFE/HUSBAND/PARTNER!' and yeeting the nearest hat into the ocean as you break your assailants noses.
2. You're overpowered and he strides in with a spitting fury, pistols smoking as the offenders drop like bloody flies. 'That-' he seeths, sword drawn and held to quivering throats, '-be my Wife/Husband/Partner you mangy disgrace of a half-drunken curr.'
If Jack so much as blinks fliratiously at you Barbossa won't peel himself from your side for over a week.
Davy Jones X Reader Fluff Headcannons
It's barely noticable, the fact that you're together.
You can't blame him for keeping his distance and reputation up around the crew, his last disastrous attempt at love was quite literally the stuff of legend after all.
In private however, it's different.
He's getting more and more comfortable with letting you touch him - running gentle hands over coral growths, crab claw and eventually, his beard. Letting your facination and awe chip away at centuries of self loathing bit by bit.
He has a harsh exterior but the moments of softness, when they happen, steal your breath enough that you seriously reconsider that cutting his heart out dulled his feelings in any way.
He's teaching you how to navigate. Both via maps and by the stars. It always ends up more as cuddling and quiet conversation.
While you're on deck, Maccus (the Hammerhead shark first mate) will sometimes order you to the captains cabin. These orders aren't from Jones, who Maccus knows will avoid help until the sea boils into mist, but becuase the first mate has already recognised that you're good for eachother and he's sick of his Captain wallowing in self pity.
Maccus knows exactly what's going on between you two and is just praying that you hurry up and kiss in front of the crew already so he can stop covering for you both. A+ wingman first mate, honestly.
Over time, Jones's organ playing stops being endless renditions of Calypso's song and his theme for the Kracken, and instead shift to a new tune, one you and the crew are unfamiliar with.
It takes you weeks before you realise the halting notes and muttered scribbling is him composing you a song.
The first time the clear, bellowing notes of the organ boom out over the sea for you is the first time you see him smile to himself without a shred of malice and your hearth does a backflip - becuase That is the expression you vowed to bring about as much as humanly possible.
If you're apart, then letters. So many letters. Letters in little bottles, letter tied to floatring barrels, letters in bottles carried by octopi becuase the Kracken commands many tiny minions, letters that are smudged and spotty and full of love he can never seem to express in person. You send yours back the same way and they're guaranteed to reach him, no matter where the Dutchman is.
#thalassa responds#potc x reader#potc#hector barbossa#davy jones#I had so much fun with these I hope you like them!#x reader#pirates hit different ever and always
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12 and ale plsssss
Full disclosure: This one hurts
You had been sleeping with Alexia off and on since you joined the Barcelona squad 6 months ago. Being a centre forward brought in to replace Jenni you never expected to get involved with the captain but one rough practice changed that. You had stayed behind to practice your shooting after you couldn’t hit the target and got into it with Alexia for missing the net.
When you headed into the change room after this, you were annoyed and pissed mainly at your self. Walking in to Alexia being the last one left you lost it and took your anger out on her. One second you were screaming at each other and the next she has you pressed against a locker 2 fingers buried deep in you. It became your thing, you would show up to hers when you had a bad game or missed the net at practice and she would show up at yours after events when she needed to be someone she wasn’t.
You both never talked about it but you seemed to be in agreement that this was a benefits only situation. Yet why did every time she sneak out of your bed in the middle of the night did your heart break. Or when you would see her have hoards of people flirt with her you had to clench your jaw to avoid saying anything.
One training she had come in slightly late and had a blush about her cheeks, you both tended to avoid being around each other at training, so you were glad when Mapi called her out on it.
“Ale, why do you look particularly happy today?” Mapi asked her, you were glad there was only a few people in the locker room so you could see and hear the full exchange.
When Alexia replied with a blush and looked down when she answered “I just had a good night” you wished you couldn’t hear it, you also wished you could sneak out of the locker room without being seen. But when you got up to leave you tripped over your bag and face planted the ground in the middle of the room.
Immediately they both were there to help you but you couldn’t take her touch on your arm after what you heard, so you bolted before they could say anything. You were fine with your arrangement you didn’t know why this bugged you so much. It wasn’t until you were sat at home that night ignoring her call that it hit you. You were in love with her.
Avoiding her became the solution you came up with in your mind, and it worked for a week. When she finally had enough she waited you out after you were delaying the end of practice by having shooting practice. When you came into the locker room she was there, waiting.
“Y/N, I know somethings wrong” she stated at you when you walked in.
Feeling the energy deplete from you and your shoulders slump you tell her “I am fine.”
Snorting she says “you are not”
“how would you know, not like were even friends.” you huff out at her not being able to hold it in.
Without looking you feel her walk up to you and she stops in front of where you haven’t moved and she asks “is that what you think?”
“Sneaking out of my bed makes me think that yes” you tell her still not meeting her eyes.
“Y/N” she says in an understanding voice as she starts “you know thats what we agreed on”
“No we didn’t agree on anything. You were the one who never wanted to stay, never wanted to talk and never wanted to be seen with me.” you huff out and before she can say anything you meet her eyes as you say “I think I am in love with you and I am terrified that you do not feel the same way. That every time you leave my bed you don't feel your heart break over and over.”
You can see the conflicting emotions behind her eyes as your speaking and you prepare for the worst when she says softly “Oh”
“no dont worry about it, I know there’s someone else. I know I was never enough for you, and I was just keeping your bed warmer until better came along. I really do just want you to be happy Ale” you tell her, wiping the tears that have gathered in the corner of your eyes you gather your bag and keys and take off from the locker room.
The sound of her soft “Y/N wait” falls on deaf ears, as you flee, knowing you left your heart and possibly your career behind.
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Feysand Week Day Six
Whoops, it became slightly longer than intended
It was fucking cold and way too late to be this far out into the steppes but it was important, Rhys had to retrieve the spellbook and the only one who could help them was the Keeper of the Lost. Rhys had never met them himself, they preferred be left alone. Similar like to Weaver they collected things, but the difference was that the Weaver kept things that were given freely while the Keeper of the Lost hoarded things that they found, that were lost, and if Rhys was lucky, they could help find the spellbook that vanished many years ago.
He stepped over tiny piles of junk, confused why they lay outside in the cold. The Keeper of the Lost was usually extremely of its possessions, at least that's what he had heard. It was probably some legend that was much more dramatized than it actually was. "Hello?" he called out at the blue front tmdoor that led into a shed, the paint already chipping. When nononswere came, he pressed down the handle of the door, which opened with a squeak. He closed the door behind him, surprised that the shed wasn't full of trash or little treasures, only an abandoned workbench sat in the corner and a stairway that led downwards. He breathed out, the breath clouding in front of his face through the cold and took the first step, listening if he could make out any noise. Halfway down the stairs he found a lantern, his powers did a quick job of lightning it and he continued his way down. His eyes could adjust better in the dark than a mortal could but he didn't take any chances because he couldn't see fully in the dark and he did not know what he could expect when he reached the room below. Another door, also blue but darker than the one above, greeted him and he quietly opened it, keeping it open as he stepped into the room. "Holy shit," he mumbled to himself. Piles and piles of junk were before him. Old, scrapped metal, bikes, dollhouses, chairs, bikes, wood planks, ship wheels, old clothes, toys, anything actually.
"Hello?" Rhys called out again. Something crashed from the other side of the room. He winced but stood glued to his spot, listening to the noise. Rustling of paper and scraping of metal sounded, the noise quickly coming closer. Then he heard clanging and scratching, as if something was trying to crawl up the mountain of junk, until he could make out a pale hand on the highest pile. "Hi!" Rhys said, "Are you the Keeper of the Lost?"
A head of golden-brown disheveled hair and a pair of blue-gray eyes peeked over the pile, taking Rhys in. The only sound between them was a sniff and rough voice mumbled, "Night Court." more to itself than him, so Rhys didn't respond. "Who sent you?" it addressed him.
"I'm High Lord Rhysand, I am here to ask for your help. It is urgent." he said, standing straight as the Keeper eyes him warily. It crawled over the pile, and slid down towards him using it as a slide, landing on its back. As it jumped to his feed Rhysand realized this wasn't a creature, it was a girl. She looked young, but appearances didn't say anything in Prythian. The Keeper was centuries old, millenia even in some stories. As she jumped to her feet in one fluid motion, she cackled.
"You don't even deem to knock but instantly ask for a favor. Only a High Lord could be so arrogant." she shook her head, her disheveled hair reaching to her hip in soft waves. She was wearing a baggy jeans overall with a thick, black sweater underneath and leather boots. This deep in winter she should be freezing in that getup but she didn't seem to mind. "Your ilk didn't bother me for a long time. I'll humor you, Rhysand of the Night Court, what is so urgent? And please call me Feyre, I don't like being addressed as the Keeper, I'm so much more."
Rhys cleared his throat, confused about that sudden mood swing but he said, "The spellbook from the King of Hybern has vanished, we need to find it to prevent a war." he told her.
She tilted her head to one side, then to the other, like a confused puppy. Her blue eyes were blazing, "What is your payment?"
"No war in these lands?" Feyre kept quiet at his failed attempt at humor and Rhys retrieved a sack of gold coins, holding it out to her. Feyre laughed out loud, her fangs glinting in the light of the lantern.
"Rhysand of the Night Court," she said, her voice sounding condescending but somehow intrigued at the same time. "" You didn't do your homework, did you? I don't deal in coins, I don't need it." he raised his brows as his gaze wandered to all the junk and Feyre bared her teeth in warning. Fair enough, he supposed that was rude. "I want a memory."
"No." Rhys instantly declined. He knew these tricks. It didn't matter how unimportant the memory seemed, it would change someone irrevocably.
Feyre shrugged. "Then we don't have a deal," she turned around. "Goodbye Rhysand of the Night Court."
He ground his teeth at the dismissal. He watched her as she walked towards another pile, smaller than the one she first slid down. "Something else!" he called after her. "Anything else."
Feyre whirled around, tapping her chin in thought. "How about," she grinned, "A secret."
Rhys swallowed. "Alright," he agreed. "A secret in return for your knowledge."
"A secret of my choice in return for my knowledge." she said, a devilish glint in her eyes. "Is it a bargain?"
"It's a bargain." Rhys replied.
Feyre squealed in delight, skipping over to Rhys, snatching a chair from one of the piles. "Sit down, Rhysand!" she said and Rhysand didn't have a choice but to. The chair squeaked under his weight and he was half afraid it would give in. He almost lost balance, trying to grip something to stabilize himself but Feyre slapped his hand away, "Don't touch my belongings!"
Rhys quickly removed his hand from the pile, mumbling "Gremlin." as Feyre dug her fingers into his hair, her nails burying into his scalp as she hummed. It was a weird feeling. It wasn't as if a Daemati was looking into your head but it felt like someone opened an album full of memories inside your mind and Feyre was skimming through every page. "So many regrets," she murmured to herself. "So much politic, isn't that boring? I don't need that." she kept humming, then suddenly stopped with a gasp. Rhys's eyes widened at the memory she stopped at, the memory he pushed so deep down and tried to forget. Never talked about it in shame. The evening when his mother told him that she would visit a war camp with his sister and Rhys promised them to meet up but he had stayed elsewhere that evening. How he had trusted Tamlin with that information and he had betrayed him return. He had only told one person that he had promised his mother to meet up and that he didn't, his cousin Mor. He hadn't told anyone else, so ashamed that he failed his mother and his little sister so badly, that he couldn't protect them. Save them. Feyre took this memory. His vision blurred bit Feyre didn't seem to know what was going on, so engrossed in taking his secret. "All done!" she retrieved a little book out of her front pocket, opened it to a specific page and showed it to Rhysand, his secret written on that page. "Isn't it pretty?" she patted his shoulder, pocketing the book again.
"The spellbook," she said in thought, sitting on another pile in front of Rhys, locking eyes with him. "A friend of mine told me about it once. I think you heard about it, the Suriel." she sighed, "The Spellbook was retrieved by the mortal queens. It's resting in their castle on the continent, in the highest room of the tower in the north wing. It's protected by wards but your second in command should be able to take them down without a problem." she waved her hand and stood up, walking away from Rhysand. "I'll see you around, Rhysand and please knock the next time you'll visit." she looked over her shoulder. "Which, I suppose, will be very soon."
Rhys didn't have time to answer to Feyre's cryptic exclamation, still feeling numb from the memory. He walked away from Feyre's keep and although he got his answer, more and more questions bubbled up in his mind and they all had to do with the Keeper of the Lost.
Feysand Taglist:
@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @edgyellie @starfall-spirit @rhysiedarling @corcracrow @sydney-fae25 @tothestarsandwhateverend @aayo-whatt @dreamlandreader @officialfeysandweek2023
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#feysandweek2023#feyre archeron#feyre#feyre cursebreaker#high lady of the night court#high lady feyre#feyre darling#rhysand#rhys#high lord rhysand#rhysand archeron#rhys acotar#high lord of the night court#feysand#acotar fanfiction#acotar drabble#feysand fanfiction#Feysand drabble
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im with the anti-purity brigade on principle but honestly, despite feeling like i get around pretty broadly on tumblr, i just dont see a lot of genuine puritans out there. i can't for the life of me recall seeing a single post that said anything to the effect of "you can't write x under any circumstances" - and sure, no doubt people like that do exist... but are they that prevalent and influential? really? do we really need a new "its okay to write x" post every other day? what hoardes are we fighting here?
i bring this up because, as my followers know, i've made some media-critical posts about torture apologia over the past week, and the people who have been on my ass about it have widely implied i'm being a puritan. me, a guy who is currently 110k words deep in a book about red room torture, being met with countless responses of "depiction isn't endorsement"/"fiction isn't reality" - as if i don't know that already
it makes me feel like a substantial number of the anti-purity "its okay to write x" posters might not be responding to puritans, but instead to the media-critical posts that circulate basically going "these specific ideas/stereotypes/myths around x fuel real-world harm in these specific ways, so if you write about x, you should be mindful of how you portray it", which, to be perfectly clear, are not puritanical, they are critical. puritanism targets broad topics and calls them off-limits no matter what - media-critical folks like yours truly want you to think about how you portray these topics. they are asking you to beware of your own bias. to conflate the two would be disingenouous as hell, frankly
idk, the lack of seeing actual puritans just makes me doubt where those "its okay to write x" posts are coming from. if they're coming from genuine anti-puritanism, or if they're appealing to this anti-critical fantasy land where literary themes and author bias no longer exist, where criticism can be sufficiently hand-waved away with an "it's just fiction"
i guess my point is that i don't trust anybody with anything lol
#other#idk#maybe i just havent seen those giant hoards of puritans that definitely do exist out there#it just feels. kinda off to me ngl lol#me browsing the writblr tag not trusting a single bitch on there
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134.
It takes a little while for things to settle, and a little while more for Callum and Rayla to feel comfortable and stable and secure after everything that's happened, that they've done, that they've had to do—but the end result is that Callum's here. It's been a long road. A hard road. But he'd walk it all over again in a heartbeat if it meant he could do this.
The Silvergrove hasn't changed much. Callum and Rayla have only visited a handful of times since Queen Zubeia ordered Rayla's pardon, but it's still as wondrous and magical as the day Rayla first let him into her world. It was his idea to visit—it's been a while since Rayla's seen any of her parents, and snooty Silvergrove elders aside, she still deserves to be able to call it home, even if home for her has been Katolis for the past couple of years. In any case, Callum can't do this without help, and Ethari had promised that, when the time came, Callum would have full access to his workshop but it's been harder than he thought it would be, even with Ethari's help.
"Admittedly," says Ethari, "metalsmithing isn't normally within a Sky Mage's wheelhouse, but you've done well. You should be proud of your work."
Callum wrinkles his nose. Rayla's horncuffs are done, but he knows where all the imperfections are and his eyes keep getting drawn to the unevenness of his engravings and the way the Moon Opal doesn't sit in its setting as snugly as he wants it to. He has half a mind to keep tinkering, but Ethari takes the cuffs away from him before he has the chance. "Hey!"
"If you keep fiddling with them, you'll never be satisfied, and I'll never see Rayla married. It's for your own good, Callum."
"Yeah, but—"
Ethari snorts and claps his shoulder. "You've done well. They look wonderful. She'll treasure them for years to come and you know she will."
Callum lets out a sigh at that. "I know, I just..." He huffs. "I think I'm a little more nervous about all of this than I should be."
"That's the way of all proposals," chuckles Ethari. "You should've seen Lain when he came in here asking to do the same for Tiadrin. He was a mess of an elf until after it was done and over with."
"And you and Runaan?"
Ethari tilts his lips fondly. "He'll deny it if you ask, but Runaan couldn't look me in the eye when he asked if I could show him how to use the forge and I knew from the moment the question left him." He rolls his eyes. "The point is that you'll be fine, and you need to stop fussing over details so small."
"I'm not fussing, I just—" Callum groans. "You get it, though, don't you? When you know that bad bits are there—"
"Yes. I get it." Ethari presses his lips together and sets the cuffs in a velvet lined box. "But we accept the bad bits for what they are and look at the beauty of the larger picture. That's what art is. That's what relationships are. And what you need is to take a break, so we're going to put these away for now, and you can decide if they're still imperfect at the end of the week."
"The end of the week?"
"Yes," says Ethari resolutely. "And I won't say I know you that well, but I know you well enough to say that you can't be trusted, so." He opens the window and whistles. Callum doesn't understand it until Stella, a little bigger these days, but no less cute and no less obsessed with shiny things climbs into the workshop. "Hold these for Callum, won't you?"
Stella glances at the box, then Ethari, then Callum. Then she grins the only way a cuddle monkey can, and suddenly Callum is terrified of the idea.
"Uh—Ethari, I don't think—"
"Stella won't lose them."
"I'm sure she won't, but I might not get them back—"
"Yes, you will." Ethari grins at Stella. "You'll give them back at the right time, won't you?"
Stella chitters, which Ethari seems to take as a yes, but Callum isn't convinced. Stella's been known to hoard all sorts of shiny things in her pocket dimension, including (but not limited to) bits of Soren's armour, Opeli's circlet, and Callum's belt buckle. The idea of her hanging on to the horn cuffs he'd made to propose to Rayla is not comforting in the least.
But Stella takes the box with two out of six arms and bounds over to Callum, that same mischievous little grin on her face, but with earnest in her eyes too.
He caves. "You'll look after them?"
Stella opens her portal in response. When the box is gone, she nuzzles against his wrist, and Ethari laughs.
"You don't have anything to worry about, Callum. You can trust her."
And, of course, he's right.
#in anticipation#rayllum#callum & stella are my new brotp#this was not as focused as i wanted it but i dont care
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2K Followers Event
Inspiration
I've asked @mango-bango-bby for permission to piggyback off of a previous event they did and was given it so here's my 2k event:
I'm going to be writing 6 stories over the course of the next few weeks (1-2 stories a week so the event will span between 3-6 weeks.) that will feature fantasy prompts.
I've come up with the AUs and basic plotlines (3 SFW, 3 NSFW), but here's the catch:
You get to pick the plot/AU that you like and tell me what character you'd like for it to include. Any character from MHA, The Arcana, Obey Me, Twilight and most Slashers are on the table.
You can also ask me to add in specific phrases/scenes/details to go along with the plot and character.
Keep in mind that this means that its first come, first served so grab your plot while you can!
AUs:
1. Dragon's Hoard (Princess + Dragon AU)- You're the dragon's most prized possession. (SFW)
2. Not Even Death (Sleeping Beauty AU)- You mourn the loss of your loved one, only to find out they never left you. (SFW)
3. Big Bad Wolf (Red Riding Hood AU)- Everyone has times where they need to learn first hand why they shouldn't do something; for you, it was when you learned why you shouldn't go into the woods alone. (NSFW)
4. Dealing with the Devil (Little Mermaid AU)- When you said you would trade "anything", this wasn't quite what you meant... (NSFW)
5. Merciful Mercenary (Snow White AU)- They just can't bring themself to kill someone so delicate. (SFW)
6. Don't Judge a Book (Beauty and the Beast AU)- Sometimes the beasts are better than the beauties. (NSFW)
#twilight x reader#obey me x reader#the arcana x reader#mha x reader#slashers x reader#bnha x reader
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Oc kiss week 2024 #2 - Rain
Ocs: Forage the Tiefling druid, Gwen the seamstress living doll.
Gwen belongs to Sammy, my DM! I don't think she has a public tumblr as i was not told it, but she is on discord. Didn't get permissions to tag or tell either way, just to use Gwen ^^;
World: DnD campaign(s) and maybe an extensive minecraft au i chuck a bunch of ocs into
Another drabble under the cut! Warning for typical dnd violence.
Whenever it rained, Gwen always thought of her boyfriend. And whenever he was away on hunter guild business, it always made her long for his return.
Tonight, it was one of those nights. The rain was pouring loudly against the walls of her boutique, a comforting and constant sound as she wrapped up her work for the night. In Particular, she had been commissioned for a beautiful wedding dress…
“Hey, so… I didn't want to bring this up earlier, but….” Harmony spoke up from the sidelines, using a pair of opera glasses to look at Gwen's tightly packed order list writing, “Didn't the client want a white dress? White with a dragon motif?”
Gwen paused, glancing at her work. “Well, they did. Did I make a mistake?”
“Well, for one, that's not pure white - it's an off-blue. But I guess it's subtle. The more interesting choices you have on that dress are the pearls and the coral. You're also definitely sewing eels instead of anything dragon-like.”
“I- well-” Gwen stammered, doing a once-over of the dress, “a subtle blue is often used to accent white and make it feel whiter - and I'm not done with what you're calling an eel! Just gotta add the scales and the. The head… and don't dragons like treasure?”
Harmony gazed at the dress through her pair of opera glasses. “Are Forage's shed coral antler-things a typical choice for dragons to hoard?”
Gwen sighed, shoulders slumping as she hid a blush. “...to me they are.” She muttered softly. “I'll fix it in the morning…”
“I'll get you up early so you can get it done without a rush.” Harmony replied.
Wrap-up continued, and Gwen inspected her spools of thread. The stuff she used for embroidering was almost out!
“Hey, do you think the supply shop is open still?” Gwen asked.
“Maybe the one in the hunter's guild.” Harmony answered, “If not that one, try to find Miranda's or something.”
Gwen frowned. “Miranda kinda scares me… I also don't think I want cursed thread, but I'll try the hunter's guild. Thank you.”
As Gwen put her coat on and grabbed an umbrella, Harmony called after her, “Keep to the populated streets. You know. The murders.”
“Y-yeah Harmony thank you Harmony”
With that, Gwen went to brave the storm. It was a heavier rainfall than she thought!
And with weather like that, barely anybody was on the streets. She was about half way to her destination when she realized this wasn't exactly safe. And the people that were there… weren't exactly minding their business.
She tried to pay it no mind, but more and more people were beginning to follow her. Take the same turns, move almost beside her… something was deeply wrong.
Seeing a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye, she quickly dodged out of the way of a dagger meant for her. She ran as fast as she could, as voices shout to each other, coordinating her downfall. She screams, but her voice is muffled by the rain.
She eventually slipped on the rainy ground, landing hard on the coral and rock cobbled ground. As blades of all kinds pointed her way, dripping with what was surely poison, she curled up, arms blocking her face in defense…
But then, strangely, she felt something. A dizzy sensation that messed with her sense of up and down, making her ears pop. As much as it made her hair stand on end, the sensation was familiar. She knew this power.
The blades never came down.
She found herself sitting on the surface of a puddle, now looking miles deep, to unknown depths. Several of the men carrying blades were entangled in tendrils that extended from the deep blue darkness, choking them even after their blades dropped, plunking into the darkness below. Soon to follow, the men were dragged down, a rush of bubbles the only signifiers of their screams for mercy.
One assailant had managed to avoid the deep pool, and attempted to string a bow as fast as their trembling hands should.
“WHERE ARE YOU, YOU MONSTER?!” the scared ranger shouted, “I SWEAR, IF YOU DON'T COME OUT, I'LL SHOOT HER!”
“Oh, but were you not planning to shoot anyway? Do not talk out of two sides of your mouth.” A sweetly cruel voice pierced the rainfall, clear as crystal waters.
The ranger spun while the druid talked, attempting their last-ditch effort - but in a blink, their body had been pierced by stalks of shimmering coral. There was no bloodfall - the stalks of coral greedily soaked up everything that was meant to fall, not a drop to spare for the ground.
“Watch your step. The coral still bites.” The druid giggled.
The ranger screamed in agony. Forage appeared from the stalks, his eyes cold as he surveyed his prey. In the heavy downpour, his hair wavered like tentacles, enjoying the soaking rain. Feeding off of it. His shark tail waved from side to side, and the fins beneath his ears perked at the sounds of fear.
“Now. Either you talk, or you die. What possible purpose could you have for attacking my dear Gwen? She'd never hurt a fly. Surely you were all about to strike the wrong person.” Forage asked.
“FUCK YOU!” the ranger screamed, pulling a leg off of a spike to kick Forage, “BOTH OF YOU GO TO HELL! DIE!”
Forage let their boot hit his wrist. In turn, the water clinging to it was heated to boiling by his Tiefling blood, cooking his enemy's injuries for good measure. He smiled, teeth pointy like a shark's.
“Die it is, then. I am certain the guild must've caught plenty of your ilk by now. Your sob story does not interest me in the slightest. You hurt Gwen, after all.”
With that, the coral grew wildly, engulfing the ranger, crushing, spearing, sucking the life from them until all that remained were the horribly beautiful stalks, glowing softly in the rain. Slowly, the coral began to grow down and away, flattening itself to seep back into the cracks of the cobblestone and filling any gaps.
“Forage…” Gwen spoke. She was shaking, wondering if this was real, or if she hit her head when she fell.
The purple tiefling spun around to face her, the coldness washing away with the heavy rain. “Gwen! Are you alright?! That cut was not deep, was it?”
He was quickly by her side, wrapping up her arm with some bandages. He's really, real… and… he really, really went crazy on those guys for trying to hurt her!
“I am sorry, I was not careful with my spell slots - I do not think I have the juice to do much healing. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“I-I’m alright… j-just help me up…” Gwen replied.
Quickly, Forage did just that, hugging her tightly. At that time, she noticed the state of his clothes.
“Did a pack of wolves tear you up before you got into town?” Gwen asked.
“Well… I did end up having a… well… scylla moment again. Hence the quick cover up with my ripped coat. But it was only briefly! That's why I was able to grab all those jerks at once.” Forage explained, ears drooping a bit. “I-I didn't scare you, did I? I think my brain would explode if I hurt you…”
“Nono, you didn't attack me at all.” Gwen explained, “I'm just… gosh, it really is you. I really missed you.”
“Okay, I'm glad. I missed you too, Gwen…”
At this, she glanced up, still hugging him tight. Even after ten years, He still took her breath away… with his cute looks, and mesmerizing eyes… and oh, what a gleaming smile…
“Right! What am I thinking… I owe you one of these, right?” Forage smiled. He leaned in close and whispered, “A kiss has its own healing magic, right?”
Not even pausing to agree, Gwen quickly pulled him in for that kiss. They held each other closely for a long while, giggling and kissing, over and over. They were soaked by the end, but neither cared at this point.
Or well, Forage worried over Gwen's state! Her body was stitched, wasn't it?!
“Shoot! We should get home, shouldn't we? I do not want you to catch a cold or anything!” Forage said, glancing up at the sky. “The rain will not stop until tomorrow. The ground's been begging for it.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Uh, where did I put my umbrella…?” Gwen said, glancing around.
Forage perked up for a moment, running to grab his staff from where he had left it on the ground. From the orb in the middle, a tentacle emerged, offering up the missing umbrella.
“There it is!” Forage said with a smile.
Gwen gently took it. “Thank you, octopus.” She said.
With that, the two walked home together, Gwen under the umbrella while Forage held her hand, getting soaked without a care, as he liked to be. They got through the doorway and Forage took the time to help her dry off, joyously talking about his trip back home.
“Oh, hey.” Harmony greeted the two from by the stairwell. “You get your thread, Gwen?”
Gwen paused… and then facepalmed. Forage gently patted her shoulder, and promised he would get some for her early tomorrow.
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