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mochiwrites · 15 hours

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Jellie tends to be a very curious cat, sometimes. She likes poking her nose into places it doesn’t belong, or snatching things from Scar and Grian when they catch her interest.

Maybe Scar should’ve known better, then.

He sits in his and Grian’s bedroom (it’s been theirs pretty much after the second month Scar moved in), a ring in his hands. The metal is cool against his palm, a soft rose gold. The band isn’t anything special, a simple engraving in it. Scar knew Grian would throw a fit if he found out Scar spent so many diamonds on the ring. So he tried to get something reasonable.

He can spoil Grian with the actual ring.

If he says yes, that is. Just the thought makes a shiver run of Scar’s spine. Is he really doing this? He and Grian have only been together for a year and a half, but Scar just knows that he’s the one. There isn’t any doubt in his mind about it. But does Grian feel the same?

Jellie jumps up on the bed next to Scar, meowing at him. She brushes her head against his arm as she settles beside him, and Scar smiles. “Well hello there beautiful lady. Are we requesting pets?” he teases as he brushes a hand through her fur. She curls up close to him, leaning into his touch. Scar sighs softly, scratching behind her ear. “I don’t know Jellie… do you think he’ll say yes?” he asks quietly. She stares blankly up at him. “Yeah okay, fair enough.”

Past their bedroom, the front door opens and shuts. “Scar, I’m home!”

Scar jumps up, disturbing a content Jellie. He shoots her an apologetic look, giving her one last pet. But the most crucial piece?

He makes the mistake of leaving the engagement ring on the bed.

As Scar walks out the room to greet his boyfriend, Jellie takes to making their bed her own. Yet as she moves, the shiny ring catches her attention. She tilts her head, curious about the shiny object. Sticking a paw out, she swats it. Again. And again. And again. Until the ring tips over the side of the bed, dropping to the floor with a ‘plop.’

Her pupils widen in that playful way they tend to do, wiggling before she pounces.

Oblivious to what his cat is doing, Scar is sweeping his boyfriend into a hug. “How was work?” he questions, looking down at Grian with a curious yet soft gaze.

“Tiring,” Grian huffs, content to melt into Scar’s grasp. He lifts his arms, returning the embrace as he does so. “I had to remake the blueprint at least five times until the guy was happy with it.”

Scar winces, “Eesh. Now I’m kind of glad he only wanted you to meet with him.”

Grian glowers at him in return, though the look is entirely playful. “Yeah, yeah.” He leans up, brushing their lips together in a soft kiss. “Consider yourself lucky.”

“I think I will, thank you.” Scar grins, stealing a kiss. “How does a movie and dinner sound?” He bumps their noses together as he smiles.

“Let me think about it,” Grian hums, booping his nose against Scar’s as he does so. “As long as there’s ice cream after.”

Scar lets out an affronted gasp, pulling away. “I’m offended you think there wouldn’t be ice cream after all!” he says as he walks toward the kitchen. “Go sit! I’ll grab the takeout leftovers.”

Laughing, Grian takes his shoes off and heads over into their living room. He finds Jellie there, playing with something caught between her paws. He fondly shakes his head at her, “What do you have now, miss?”

Jellie looks up at him with a meow as she swats at whatever it is she’s deemed her new toy, chasing at it. However, said mystery object knocks into Grian’s foot, and he gets it first.

Leaning down, Grian picks up what appears to be a rose gold ring. He inspects it in his hand, eyebrows knit together as he does. “Where did this come from?” He blinks at it, looking down at Jellie. “Did you rob someone?”

Jellie sits in front of him, slowly blinking. The perfect picture of innocence.

Shaking his head with a faint laugh, Grian looks at the ring again. His heart skips a beat as he really takes in the detail of it. He certainly didn’t buy it. Did Scar? And if he did then….

Heart a little louder, he turns to his boyfriend. “Hey, Scar?”

“Yes, love of my life?”

“Any clue what this is?”

Scar walks into the living room, the soft crackles of a furnace behind him. He pauses when he notices what Grian is holding in his hand. His eyes go wide, looking a little pale. To the side of Grian, he spots the movement of Jellie’s tail, and looks directly at her. “Traitor,” he mutters.

“Scar?” Grian questions, confused and… maybe a bit nervous.

“Haha uh… any chance we can forget this all happened and revisit it like. Next month?” Scar weakly chuckles, the epitome of nerves as he looks at Grian.

“What’s going on?” Grian’s brows furrow in confusion, a bit of concern leaking into his expression.

Scar knows trying to lie about it is practically pointless. Grian is too curious and too stubborn to let it go. And now that he’s seen the ring… Scar takes in a shaky breath. “Void, alright. Guess we’re doing this.”

He walks over to Grian, “May I?” He gestures for the ring, and Grian slowly nods. He hands the ring over to Scar, who accepts it with shaking hands. “Okay.” Scar sucks in a breath, unbelieving that he’s really doing this right now.

Slowly, Scar drops down on one knee in front of Grian, watching the way the other’s eyes go wide. But something about the position doesn’t feel quite right. Brows furrowing, Scar sets his other knee on the carpet below. “G? Mind kneeling with me here?” he asks, to which Grian nods. He joins Scar on the carpet, kneeling with him as well. “Much better,” he hums, pleased.

“Scar what?” Grian questions, lost and confused, and goodness his heart is beating so fast.

“I uh, I had a whole thing planned out, but Jellie seems to have thrown a wrench into all that,” Scar chuckles. “But it’s fine! I can improvise, who needs a plan?” He does. He needs a plan. Shaking his head, Scar reaches for one of Grian’s hands, grasping it in his own. He takes a measured breath, and begins to speak.

“I love you. More than words will ever be able to describe, G. You’ve done so much for me, more than I think I’ll ever be able to thank you for. You found me on the street, and despite being scammed by me, you still offered me a roof to live under, and a home to heal in.” Grian’s eyes are focused on him, listening with rapt attention. His gaze only worsens Scar’s nerves, heart beating a mile a minute. “You’re stubborn and witty, and sometimes you steal the blanket from me.”

Grian laughs.

Scar loves the sound.

“You don’t let me wallow in self pity, or memories of the harder times. You’re endlessly kind to both myself and Jellie, and everyone around you, even if your patience runs a little thin and you get snippy. We may get into a minor disagreement here and there, but you always come back around to me.” Scar smiles softly at him, so painfully fond and loving. “Back on that world… I never thought I would get to live life again. Or even enjoy the night sky without being afraid. It felt like a part of me was always missing, but I found that part with you.”

“Scar…” Grian trails off, face going red.

“G, you’re my home, my light. I want to spend every day waking up next to you and messing up pancake batter with you,” Scar laughs, the sound wet and shaky. Grian laughs with him, sounding just as affected. “I want to hold you on your bad days, and on your good ones. I want to be there through everything, for the rest of our lives. You’ve reminded me what it’s like to live and love, what it’s like to be me. There’s no one else for me, my heart and souls are yours.”

Scar swallows, holding the ring out to him. “So… will you entangle your life with mine forever? And marry me?” His expression turns bashful as he asks, and Grian is red in the face.

“You…” he trails off, amazed and in disbelief all at once. He looks between Scar and the ring, and he shakes his head. “I’ve been trying for days to find the perfect way of proposing to you, and you go and pull the rug right out from under me,” he laughs. “Curse how perfect you are sometimes.”

“C’mon G, you’re really leaving me hanging here!” Scar whines at him, making Grian laugh all over again.

Grian wraps his arms around Scar’s shoulders, pressing their lips together. “Yes, you spoon. I don’t want anyone else. Just you.”

If their neighbors hear how loudly Scar yells, well… it’s a warm congratulations to the newly engaged couple.

Jellie watches her humans cry in each others arms, tail flicking lazily at her side. She better get extra treats for this.

(It’s only later, when they’re sitting on the couch, curled into each other, that Scar realizes what Grian said. He turns to him, “Wait, you were planning to propose too?”

Grian snorts with laughter, “Hadn’t even picked out a ring, but yes Scar, I was.”)

#mochi writes #secret husbands au #scarian #hermitshipping #don’t mind me just sobbing and wailing #they make me SO???????#the softness. I am Melting

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purple-writer8 · 12 hours

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But Daddy I Love Him - ACOTAR

Rhysand x Autumn Court Reader (Beron’s Daughter)

“I’ll tell you something right now, I’d rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning.”

warnings: abused eris, autumn court shenanigans, mentioned abuse (verbal and physical), talks of violence, forbidden love, beron being beron, beron being abusive, physical abuse, angst, sexism, the autumn court brothers

2.5k words

Masterlist :)

You were Beron's Achilles heel.

His youngest child and only daughter. The Princess of Autumn. You were spoiled, by your parents and your six older brothers--loved by everyone in your family. You knew they all hated each other, that your father was a bad man, abusive to your brothers and your mother. But for some reason, you were loved by him, doted on by him.

You didn't look a lot like him, or like your brothers, or like your mother. Unlike them, you sported dirty blonde hair, though your powers still resembled theirs-- wielding fire like the rest of your family.

Despite your peculiar hair color, your father loved you inmensely, showing you more affection than he did any of your elder siblings combined. You were lucky, lucky that he didn't do with you what he did to your brothers, that he didn't unleash his wrath on you like he did on Eris or the others.

What Beron did do, though, was shelter you. You lived in the Autumn Palace, and rarely ever saw outside of it. Your father would rather you stay in your rooms, where you were safe from the dangers of the realm. You had guards to accompany everywhere, and if it weren't guards-- it was your older brothers. You loved them, all of your brothers, but your favorite was Eris.

He was the gentlest out of all of them, the one that cared the most for you, the one that understood you. Eris would do anything for you, and you for him. It was thanks to him that you found the love of your life.

Rhysand.

A year ago, Eris had convinced your father to let you attend balls and parties held by the other High Lords, to let you live a life outside your rooms and the gardens. Beron beat him for the suggestion, but nonetheless listened to him. The first ball you attended was in the Dawn Court, a celebration of sorts. Most courtiers from all around Prythian were mesmerized-- and stunned-- to learn of your existence.

Rhysand was one of them. Cauldron, the High Lord of the Night Court was smitten from the moment that he saw you enter alongside your brothers, your head bowed as you walked through the crowd. He had to have you.

And he did just that. It was just pleasantries at first, he was kind to you-- much to Beron's dismay and Eris' chagrin. Everyone knew what the Night Court was made of, and how Rhysand ruled over it. Eris would rather kill the High Lord of Night than let him near you, caring not for court relations but for your well-being. He remembered what happened to Morrigan in the Night Court, tortured by her own family.

He would never let you set foot there.

The second ball you attended was in the Summer Court. Eris had been tasked by Beron to woo some Winter Court aristocrat's daughter, so he was quite busy. Which meant you could slip away without anyone noticing, explore the palace and finally not be babysat by your brother.

You had found a balcony that overlooked the city of Adriata when you heard, "There you are... I've been looking for you," in that deep voice you had been incessantly thinking about ever since your first outing.

You turned to find Rhysand standing there, clad in black leather, his violet eyes shining bright while a feline smirk grazed his perfectly sculpted features. You blinked, your doe eyes shining for him.

He smiled wide, and you instantly knew you were done for. You would be his.

And you were. You and Rhysand began a secret relationship, a secret and dangerous relationship. You let him in, let him into your mind, let him be the one to take your purity. You were Rhysand's and he was yours. Not only that, but you saw each other in secret at different gatherings. And sometimes he winnowed into Autumn territory in the dead of night to see you, not caring for the consequences of his actions. Of what Beron would do when he learned he had defiled you.

"I almost melted his mind when I saw him eyeing you," Rhysand growled, kissing you neck in a feverish manner. You let out a low whine, your fingers running through his onyx silky hair. "I can't wait to claim you," he spoke breathlessly, "to make you my wife."

You moaned wantonly when one of his hands found its way under your skirts while the other worked to unbutton the top of your dress. "Take me to your court," you pleaded, hooking your leg on his lower waist and pulling him closer to you.

"I'll take you, steal you away from this place... make you the Lady of Night..." he groaned, one hand snaking to your neck, holding you steady as he kissed down your neck and then your shoulders. You whined and writhed under his touch, then he said, "be quiet, baby... wouldn't want your daddy to find you like this..."

No, you wouldn't. There was a ball happening, this time in your home, and you had slipped away just so Rhysand could follow you and corner you in a dimly lit hallway. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer into yourself, like you were a sick woman and the only remedy was Rhysand close to you.

"Sister." The voice of Fenix, your second-eldest brother, ran through the hallway. You jumped, pushing Rhys off of your body as if he had the plague. Rhysand turned to the Vanserra male, a smirk on his face, as if he hadn't been caught in a very compromising situation.

Fenix hummed, his eyes narrowed on you, "interesting."

"Fenix..." you warned him, your eyes travelling to his hands that were now curled into tight fists. You were sure any second now he would send fire your lover's way. "You have one second to disappear before I lynch you and send you back to your cauldron forsaken court," your brother said in a dangerously low tone.

Rhys was unbothered. "I think I'll be taking your sister with me then," he said, wrapping one strong arm around your waist. "Over my fucking dead body, Rhysand."

You closed your eyes in defeat when you heard Eris' voice boom through the hallway. A feline smile happened upon Rhys's lips, "that can be arranged."

You turned to Eris, your eyes silently pleading with him, but it was for naught because he was only glaring at the man that had his arm wrapped tightly around you. "Drop my sister, Rhysand. Or there will be hell to pay." Eris warned slowly.

"Eris, I love him!" You shrieked, only for Fenix to let out a low growl. "And I'll lynch him," he threatened, only for Rhys to laugh.

"I would love to see you try. We're leavin-" Before Rhys could finish, a beam of fire was sent his way, though it misted before it could even touch him. You cried in horror when you saw your father standing at the end of the hallway, backed by the remaining of your brothers. Seldom from Lucien, who was not in Autumn anymore. "You dare touch my daughter?!" Beron roared, the walls of the palace shaking from the sheer force of his words.

Rhysand grinned at him, "we can all talk about this like adults."

Wishful thinking. Your brothers wasted no time in their attack on the Night Court's High Lord, sending flames at him-- though they were no match for Rhysand. He swiftly pushed you out of the way and winnowed around the hall, avoiding each attack. "Please stop!" You cried in horror, but to no avail. They wanted Rhysand dead.

"You are BANISHED from this court, for now and forever." Your father's voice thundered through the palace, and instantly the flames died down-- leaving only a very shocked Rhysand. "Beron... we can talk abo-"

"Leave now, or I send Eris to your court with our army. Leave or we are at war," at your father's threat, you turned to Rhysand in horror. You knew he could kill your entire family with a single blink, that he could really take you and form a war between courts-- and win it.

He spoke in your mind. "Give me the word and I will take you away, bunny. I am not scared of your father or his weak threats."

"Go. I will fix this." You responded.

Rhysand turned to Beron, bowed with a wicked grin on his face, and winnowed away. You stared at the space he had just been standing in longing, before a grip yanked you forward. You whimpered as you looked up at your father's rage - filled expression. "How do you dare?" He asked in a tone that he had never once used on you. You trembled, his grip burning into your skin, causing you to wince in pain.

Eris stepped between the two of you, pulling you behind his frame to shield you from your father's wrath. Beron's glare burned through Eris, and you could almost feel it burning your skin. "You will marry someone of my choosing. Until then, you will remain in your rooms." Beron spoke, his tone offering no room for bargaining.

"But Daddy, I love him!" You cried, stepping from behind your older brother to face your father's rage. Beron growled, "what do you know about love? You're a woman! There's no choice for you in this matter!"

You scoffed, he raised you just to cage you. "I love him!" You pressed again, and he simply rolled his eyes at you, "you know nothing of the world."

"I love him, and I'm having his baby!" You shrieked, and horror instantly was etched unto your father's expression. Your brothers all looked as if they had seen a ghost, eyes wide and mouths hung open at your revelation. Eris covered his face with his hands, "I'll kill him..."

"I'm not..." you admitted, "but cauldron, you should see your faces."

Beron was frozen in shock at your boldness. He was not dealing with this. So to Eris growled, "deal with her."

Your father winnowed away along with the rest of your brothers, leaving the eldest and you to sort out this mess. Before you knew it, your brother winnowed you away and into your room. "Sister, please come to your senses..." Eris started.

"No, I am not coming to my senses," you snapped at Eris.

"Rhysand is crazy, the entire Night Court is full of depraved individuals. Remember what happened to Morrigan? How they left her at our border? They'll do the same to you..." Eris trailed, his expression one full of pain and sheer anger.

"I am not Morrigan! He would never hurt me... and Rhysand said he wasn't the one that hurt her. Eris, I know he may seem crazy, but he's the one I want. I love him! And he loves me!" You contested, your voice cracking as tears once more swelled in your eyes. Rhysand was chaos, he was revelry... and he was also the love of your life.

Eris let out a frustrated groan, he could not believe his sweet sister was so hung up on the cruelest High Lord there ever was in the history of Prythian. "Sleep on it, sister. Because Beron will never let you wed him," and with that, your brother left your room, slamming the door on his way out. Slamming the door on you and your future.

You were summoned early in the morning to breakfast with your family, you attended with your arguments sharp as knives-- ready to hurl them at your father. As soon as you entered the Dining Hall, your brothers erupted into their arguments, all of them reminding you of all the things Rhysand had done in his life.

Your father looked smug as your five brothers scolded you for wanting the Night Court's leader. Your mother looked mortified, her face pained-- she just wanted you to be happy.

"He melts minds," said Fenix.

"He has those two bat boys, they are evil and kill innocents," said Zire.

"He lets his court torture women, look at Morrigan," said Lukas.

"I heard he keeps a hundred concubines in his palace," said Ember.

"He runs his court without any sort of morals," said Eris.

You thought it was rich coming from your brothers. They were the ones that tortured Lucien's lover, and the ones that ran him out of Autumn. They didn't know you knew that, though-- one of your servants had told you what had happened.

Their hypocrisy and vile words towards Rhysand made you seethe, sending flames flying from your hands and to the walls of the room as you stood up. "I'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all your hypocritical bitching and moaning," you screeched.

Your brothers went still, their mouths all clamping shut as they stared at you in shock.

"You're a Vanserra," your father growled. "Whether you like it or not, you do my bidding, and if you think I'll let you wed Rhysand just because you want to, then you are dafter than you appear, child."

You remained silent, digesting your father's words. You had always known your father to be cruel. Knew he beat your brothers, knew he was the one that bid them to kill Jesminda and run Lucien out of the court. But you had never known his cruelty, no. You had always been his weakness, the child he truly did appear to love. Though now you knew that just because he didn't you, it didn't mean that he cared any more for you than he did your brothers.

"I may be a Vanserra," you trembled, "but I would gladly disgrace the name. You've already done it plenty."

Beron never once expected you to go against him like this, no, you were the good one. You were the dutiful daughter, the one he had kept hidden for years on end to protect. Where did you get all this conviction? Your father stood from his seat at the end of the table, Eris doing the same thing— ready to intervene if he were to attack you.

Beron strode towards you quickly, and Eris tried to jump in between the two of you, but with a flick of his hand your father sent Eris flying to the wall. You gasped, meaning to rush to your brother, but your father grabbed you midway.

His grip was deathly, and as you looked up at him— your blood ran cold. And before you could even pull away, his hand struck you across the face.

Author’s note:

i instantly got this idea when i heard this song like IT FITS PERFECT

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

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turtletaubwrites · 1 day

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Numbers Game ~ Part 13

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 5318

Ao3 Link

Summary: You get to work on party planning, but your disagreement about the budget leads to some uncomfortable questions.

Author's Note: I am unwell. If it wasn’t allergy season, I’d roll down a hill, and lie in the grass for a while 😅

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Established Relationship, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Hair-Pulling, Degradation, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there), Bondage, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Gangbang, Brat Handling, Vaginal Fingering, PIV Sex, Creampie, Large Cock, Cunnilingus, Punishment, Orgasm Control, Multiple Orgasms, Dom Mihawk, Dom Crocodile, Switch(?) Buggy, Death Threats, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

“If you’d listened to miss Y/N before, she might still be yours,” Crocodile scoffed, shoving Buggy into a chair at a small desk by the door, leaving him close, but not too close. “This is your one chance to prove you’re not a complete idiot. Don’t fuck it up.”

“You got it, boss,” Buggy chirped, sneaking a wink in your direction while you fought a smile.

“Here you are, darling,” Mihawk interrupted, setting your notebook in front of you, along with a transponder snail. “I trust that you’ll behave on your calls today? I’d hate to have to come up with some sort of punishment if you try to–”

“She won’t try anything, huh, sweetheart?” Crocodile rasped. Goosebumps crawled over your skin as the back of that golden hook lifted your chin, drawing your eyes to his. “You’re our girl now, right?”

“I am,” you agreed, breathless as the truth left your lips. He tugged on a bit of your hair, that look of ownership sending warmth through you.

I’m theirs.

Humming at the thought, you laid out your notes, and went to work.

“This event will be expensive,” you warned, adding to the list of items needed to throw a party fit for the pompous guests you knew too well. The guest list was small, but you knew it would grow as the clients you'd called today gossiped amongst their privileged circles, and you hadn't even made it through your list yet.

“I already sent Galdino to meet with the backer you secured. That should provide more than enough funding,” Mihawk noted, looking at you over the top of his book.

“Besides, they’re not here for caviar,” Crocodile huffed from his desk on the other side of the large room, “they’re here to pay for murder. I think that’ll be enough of a thrill for them.”

You cleared your throat, scribbling on the corner of a page.

“Do you disagree?”

How did he get here so fast?

Mihawk laughed at the little yelp you let out when Crocodile pulled the list from your shaky hands.

“They want a show,” Buggy’s head declared as it floated between you and the larger man, his jazz hands floating beside his face. He gave a quiet huff as Crocodile used the notebook to swat him away like a fly.

“I’ll listen to your recommendations, sweetheart. Tell me why you think I’m wrong.”

Mihawk joined him in front of your desk, the two of them towering over you while Buggy started pacing.

I wonder if I’ll ever stop being afraid of them. I wonder if that’s why I want to stay.

Shaking off the fear, and the flush to your cheeks, you straightened before answering with a steady voice.

“I’ve known most of these people for years. They want thrills, but only if they’ll be safe, and only if it’ll be good for their bank accounts in the long run. We need to convince them that they’ll gain more than they give by funding us.” You couldn’t read the emotions behind their sharp-eyed stares, but you pulled yourself through.

“We need to sell the product, and we need to be desirable. If we don’t look just as wealthy as they are, they won’t think we’re worth the air we breathe, let alone their precious berry,” you ended on a sharp note, swallowing a scowl.

Mihawk leaned over the desk, holding your jaw while he stared at the hint of a snarl on your lips.

“My sweet, little rabbit doesn't seem to think highly of her old clients. This entire plan relies on these wealthy contacts being loyal to you, Y/N. You didn’t exaggerate their trust in you, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” you breathed, your jaw clenching beneath his fingers. “As long as I keep being useful to them, they’ll keep pretending they care about me.”

Ice filled the room from the pressure of your words, nausea coiling in your stomach.

“I’m good at what I do,” you coughed, Mihawk's fingers letting you pull away while you took a breath. “They’ll listen to me, but we need to put on a show.”

“Good thing you’ve got the flashiest showman around,” Buggy crowed, floating pieces of him over your desk again, shielding you from the cold stares of the other men.

“Buzz off, clown,” Crocodile snapped, resting his hook on your desk with a low, metallic thunk. “Sweet girl, do you think we’re liars?”

“Wha– n-no. I didn’t–”

“Skittish, little rabbit,” Mihawk purred, shouldering past Buggy’s now solid form to trail a finger down your cheek. “Why would you ever need to worry? You have so many uses.”

“Don’t start with that shit, swordsman,” Crocodile growled, moving beside you to trap you between them.

“Didn’t you hear that hatred on her tongue, sandman? Aren’t you curious if our little rabbit carries that same venom for us?”

Buggy’s frantic eyes found yours around Mihawk’s side, but your golden-eyed lover returned his fingers to your jaw, pressing in.

“Do you hate us for using you, darling?”

He released your face at Crocodile’s looming threat, but his predator’s gaze still held you frozen.

A large hand across your shoulder blades relaxed you for just a moment, until that deep voice warmed your neck.

“Answer him, sweetheart.”

“Of course she doesn’t hate you, she’s–” Buggy started, going silent at the vicious glare Mihawk sent his way.

Tension grew with every second until you found your voice again.

“I don’t hate you. I want to be here,” you laughed, a strange joy moving through you as you shook yourself. “You threatened to kill me, but I still trust you more than I trust any of those leeches.”

Lightheadedness came in a wave, your body buzzing as you looked back and forth at their frightening faces.

Fuck. Why did I say all that? Why didn’t I keep it professional?

You let out a sigh of relief as Crocodile's hand rubbed up and down your spine, and Mihawk lifted your knuckles to his lips. That gentle kiss felt overpowering, and he hummed when a soft noise left your throat.

“I think that’s enough work for today, don’t you, Crocodile?”

“Why don’t we take our dinner in the banquet hall tonight,” he suggested, tapping his hook on a blank notepad on your desk. “You can show us how to prepare it for a party of leeches.”

“Or we could just enjoy all the new tables to fuck you on,” Mihawk laughed, pulling you out of the chair to carry you.

They bickered about who would be going first along the way, laughing at Buggy’s attempt to claim a turn.

“Go order the food,” Crocodile snorted, gesturing down the hall. “Stop being a fucking nuisance, and you might get to watch.”

You directed them to the large dining hall, giggling as Mihawk laid you across the head table. The room was already set up well, a small stage at one end, the head table stretched along a connecting wall, and round tables scattered across the floor. Once you had a more complete RSVP list, you’d be able to make a decent seating chart.

You propped yourself up on an elbow, your brow creasing a bit as you thought of which guests would need to feel extra special, and be seated the closest to your lovers.

“I’m amazed that little mind of yours can focus on work,” Mihawk teased, tapping his fingers against your forehead. You threw your head back with a moan as he snuck a hand up your skirt. He rubbed his knuckles over your clit through your panties, already damp from the feel of his skin while he’d carried you. “When this little cunt is always so fucking hungry.”

“Dinner is served,” Buggy interrupted your moan, crashing through the doors with a rolling cart of food, the sliver-domed covers glinting under the lights. The tray slammed into a chair as he stared between your spread legs, his hands flying to catch the wine bottle and glasses just in time.

“Too bad,” Mihawk sighed as he licked the taste of you off his fingers. “I was about to have dessert first.”

Too many conflicting feelings flowed through your mind while you ate in this opulent room, drifting you away from the conversation as visions of fake smiles and expensive clothes danced through the hall.

Gloved fingers on your knee snapped you back.

Buggy made a show of eating the last few bites off his plate, not meeting your gaze as your lips parted from his risky touch.

What are you doing?

So far your sweet clown had done nothing but try to protect you from these men, but now his fingers were teasing up your thigh under the table.

You wanted to let him, your mind starting to race through every possibility, every reaction.

Mihawk snatched that wayward hand from your lap before you had a chance to think, and you yelped when he slammed it on the table.

“We decide when our girl gets to play with her toys.”

“Right, of course,” Buggy squeaked, his ears going red while Mihawk crushed his hand against the wood. “Sorry, boss, I was just feeling handsy! Ha, w-won’t happen again!”

Buggy’s tense giggle at the word handsy tore a laugh from you, and he managed to steal his hand back while Mihawk stood, his chair scraping across the floor.

“Time for dessert,” he threatened, wicked fingers pulling you up by your hair. He dragged you away from the plates before tossing you on the edge of the table. Taking a seat between your legs, he gripped your ankles while you panted, trying to gain your bearings.

But you couldn’t gain your bearings, Crocodile’s lips crashing onto yours taking you over. He sat beside you, a satisfied noise leaving his throat at your desperate reaching for him.

“Since you’re feeling so handsy, why don’t you pin hers down?”

Buggy hesitated for a moment, but pulled up a chair on your other side before his floating hands pressed your wrists into the wooden table above your head. Even though this was exactly where you wanted to be, being restrained and surrounded on three sides had you resisting against his hold.

“You look so pretty like this, sweetheart,” Crocodile purred, tracing the side of his hook along your struggling arms, the barest scrape of the sharp point making you gasp.

“He’s right, such a tasty little rabbit in our trap,” Mihawk agreed, speeding your pulse as he pulled your panties down your legs. He dropped them onto Buggy’s lap, bringing a whimper from those painted lips. “Try not to come in your little pillowcase this time, and you might get to do more than hold her down.”

Buggy met your gaze, the need in his darkened eyes making your breath hitch.

He’s never looked at me like this before.

Your lovely clown, the Warlord of the Sea that had rescued you from your boring life. He'd taken you to new highs, given you more pleasure than you’d ever known. Before they came, he had looked at you like he wanted to eat you, to take you, to keep you.

But the look on his face when he watched these other men have their way with you was something else.

He fucking loves this.

Before you could smile at the thought, a wicked tongue dragged through your folds, circling around your clit before plunging inside you. You filled the air with Mihawk’s name as he devoured you, until Crocodile’s fingers muffled your moans, making you tear up while he smirked at your stuffed mouth.

“Do you mind? I prefer a little music with my meals.”

Mihawk smeared his face along your inner thigh, and you shivered at the feel of his wet facial hair teasing your skin. Crocodile huffed a laugh, but pulled his fingers out of your mouth. He lifted the fabric of your top, tearing more of the clothes that Buggy had bought for you into shreds before playing with your breasts.

So many sounds left your throat as they teased you, Buggy’s hands gripping hard while you writhed for them.

Predators toying with their prey.

“Please,” you begged, earning a laugh vibrating through your core as Mihawk kept going. You were already twitching before his long fingers entered you, Crocodile’s hook tracing dangerously down the side of your body.

“Fuck, Mihawk, I’m so–”

“Close,” he taunted, pulling away from you. Crocodile gave a disgruntled noise, but followed suit, taking his hand away from your chest. He left his hook though, the point resting lightly below your ribs while he looked toward the man between your legs.

“I think we were close to something earlier,” Mihawk continued, his fingers playing along your thighs while you squirmed with need. “Close to learning more about our precious numbers girl.”

The loss of that almost release had you whimpering, but his words fell over you like a weight.

“She’s been good, hawk-eyes. Don’t be so mean,” Crocodile smiled, brushing a bit of hair from your face.

“You know I’m going to make her scream, but my curiosity has been piqued. I just have to know,” he threatened, pressing his fingers into you. You moaned when he found that spot, but he tortured you, the touch too slow for relief. “Tell me, darling. Why do you carry such contempt for these wealthy clients of yours? You told us that your life was boring, but you snarled like a beast. Did we take in a monster instead of a sweet, little rabbit?”

He attacked you then, his free hand on your clit while his fingers brought you close again. You couldn’t answer through desperate moans, and the sobs that followed as he cut you off again.

“Please, sir. Please,” you choked out, shaking with need.

“Why do you hate them, Y/N?”

Your name on Mihawk’s lips always seemed to wake you, and you tried to calm your breathing before struggling for an answer.

“They’re terrible people,” you gasped, faltering at Crocodile’s low chuckle. “They don’t care about anything besides staying rich, and impressing the same circle of vapid families with how much berry they can waste on stupid, pretentious bullshit. They’re so fucking obsessed with status, they’d throw someone to the wolves just for the slim chance of their inbred blood marrying into the Celestial Dragons.”

Your body had forgotten its need, seething as the words raged through you. These were thoughts you fought to ignore, useless, meaningless thoughts that could do nothing but piss you off.

Buggy released one of your wrists, cradling your cheek as his thumb gently stroked back and forth. You looked away from the confusion and concern in his eyes, embarrassment filling you like bile.

As if he felt your shift, Mihawk lowered your legs, coming to sit on the table beside Crocodile, and you clamped your eyes shut against the force of their stares.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t be,” Crocodile rasped, rubbing his hand along your arm. “I’m glad my sweet girl has some fire in her.”

“I agree,” the swordsman interrupted as he laid his still-wet fingers on your side, “but this seems personal. Why do you hate them so much, pet. Tell the truth.”

“I just… I’ve been surrounded by these people for years. They trust me with their money, and their money comes with secrets. I see what they do with all the wealth I help them grow, and I see what they don’t do. But even with all that berry, and all that selfishness, they are still so fucking boring.”

A wicked laugh left your throat, and you found yourself smiling as you looked into three sets of eyes. You melted for them, letting the heat of your need for them pour from you.

“But you promised that I wouldn’t be bored with you,” your voice came out in a purr, and you relished as all three faces filled with hunger when you writhed for them.

Mihawk jutted forward to pinch your pouting lip, something new and dangerous flashing in his eyes.

“Are you trying to manipulate us,” he dared, tilting his head as he scanned your face. “Did you already forget who owns you?”

“No,” you gasped, lifting your neck as he tugged your lip further.

“Mihawk, back–”

“Can you believe what a dirty slut your sweet girl is,” he taunted, his free hand tracing up your thigh while you held your breath. “She just tried to use her body to distract us. You really loved being called a whore, didn’t you?”

You fell back when he released your lip, moaning as he yanked your hips toward the edge of the table. Your legs dangled off the side, and you tried to slide off to stand until he ordered Buggy to pin your wrists down again.

Buggy’s brows creased as he hesitated for a moment, a small line of worry etched into his face paint. Yet he obeyed, leaving you to glance up at Crocodile, imploring him for forgiveness that you weren’t sure you wanted. Your eyes fluttered closed when he leaned down, kissing your temple.

“It’s true, isn’t it,” he asked, his husky voice overwhelming you. The point of his hook ghosted across your chest, forcing you to slow your breathing. “I promised all you gotta do is tell me what you want, and I’ll take care of you, but you still don’t believe me? Manipulation is real fuckin' close to lying, brat.”

“P-please, I–”

“You’d better watch your fucking mouth,” he threatened, his hook pressing into the side of your neck. “You’re gonna take what we give you, and then you’re gonna tell us the truth. Don’t make me show you what I do to liars, girl.”

Nodding stretched your throat against that sharp point, so you whispered your compliance. He withdrew the threat as Mihawk’s evil laughter moved closer.

“I’m not so forgiving,” the other man smirked as he lifted your legs over his shoulders. You barely had time to meet his golden eyes before he shoved his cock into you, laughing through your screams.

“Using your body against me,” Mihawk scoffed as he grabbed at your chest, pinching one of your nipples while he pounded into you. “I’ll show you what it means to be used, rabbit. You get to be a real whore tonight.”

The acoustics in the banquet hall were incredible, your screams of pleasure flying through the room as you came on his brutal cock.

“What a spoiled little cunt. I wonder how many rounds you can take? Would you still like a turn, clown?”

Buggy coughed, looking up from the sight of your pussy taking all that abuse.

“Wha–”

“Did you ever call her a slut? Did you ever fuck her like the desperate whore she is right now?”

“No, I…”

“Mihawk–” Crocodile leaned in, pressing his hand down on your chest. The swordsman never stopped fucking you, and you had to fight to pay attention.

“She earned this, sandman, and I think we should give our toy a treat. He’s been so good at holding her down, and keeping his mouth shut while I ruin his pretty star’s pretty little cunt. Let me play. I know you’re enjoying it.”

“… Fine. Only because she deserves this punishment. You hear that, brat,” he rasped, grabbing your face to watch you wither under his silver glare. “You try something like this again, and I’ll let twisted hawkeye pick your punishment.”

He pushed away just as another orgasm was ripped from you, your body clenching around Mihawk’s while he dug his nails into your hips.

“Hardly a punishment. You’re nothing but a slutty little hole, aren’t you,” he jeered, rolling into you until your eyes rolled back. “Alright clown, if you still want to stick your dick into this comeslut, you need to follow my instructions. Do you still want to fuck her?”

Buggy looked down at you with wide eyes, and you couldn’t tell if he’d noticed your nod of consent as Mihawk slammed into you, but either way, he whispered, “yes.”

“Good toy,” Mihawk praised, his breath heavy as his thrusts started to stagger. “As soon as I’m done, you’re going to fuck my come into her. You’re going to call her a whore, and you’re going to fuck her like one. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Buggy rasped, squeezing your wrists twice before taking his hands back to undress. Crocodile caught both of your hands in his. His eyebrow lifted just a tad, and you closed your eyes, knowing a smile would be on your lips if you weren’t making so many ungodly noises.

Your safe word crossed your mind. All of your lovers knew it.

But you weren’t even close to needing it.

I’m such a slut.

You almost laughed to yourself, until you felt Mihawk start to twitch inside you.

“Look at my happy little whore. Just wait, darling. You’ll be crying soon enough,” he laughed before groaning, shoving his cock so fucking deep while he filled you. The heat of him made your eyes roll back, and you weren’t ready when they switched.

Buggy’s needy moan arched your back. The feel of him sinking into your messy cunt after everything that had happened felt insane, electric. You met his gaze, his blown out eyes hardly human as he followed Mihawk’s lead, fucking into you like an animal.

“Tell her what she is, toy,” Mihawk ordered softly, smirking at you over Buggy’s shoulder.

“You’re…” Buggy started, his head tilting back as his breath sped through him.

“You’d better not come before you tell her what a slut she is. And you’d better act like you mean it.”

Your sweet clown looked frantic as Mihawk’s dangerous fingers danced over his shoulders.

“You’re such a slut,” Buggy tried again, his soft voice making you moan. His bottom lip scraped through his teeth while he watched you react to him, and you cried out his name as he fucked you harder.

“You like this, don’t you,” he asked, voice gaining confidence with each word, with each thrust until you were screaming. “You like being a flashy little whore, huh? Like making me watch your pussy get fucking wrecked everyday?”

“Fuck, yes, Buggy, please.”

“Gods, Y/N, you feel so fucking good baby–…”

“She’s not good, she’s a dirty fucking hole to fill,” Mihawk growled, gripping Buggy’s hair while he whimpered. “Tell her what she is, and you can come inside her right now.”

“F-fuck, you’re a dirty slut. You filthy fucking whore. Fuck, I’m–”

That twitching, throbbing cock filled you and filled you, it felt like it just kept going. Just a few more of those desperate, overstimulated thrusts of his would have sent you over the edge again. You hadn’t even noticed when Mihawk took over pinning your wrists before Buggy was pulled away, and large, ringed fingers played in the mess he’d left.

Crocodile’s eyes burned into you as he scooped come out of your used cunt, rubbing it along his shaft before pressing the tip of him to your entrance. You squirmed away, stopping your movement too late.

“Get her on the floor, clown. I don’t wanna break the table giving this brat what she deserves.”

Your limbs were loose as the other man got you to the ground, spreading your legs for Crocodile as he lined himself up, grabbing your hip to hold you in place.

“This is nothing, sweetheart,” he threatened, bullying his massive cock into you, the other men’s come being forced out to make room. A satisfied hum vibrated through him at your pathetic little whimpers. “You need to know how fucking serious I am.”

“Okay,” you breathed, eyes stinging with tears as he shoved himself all the way in.

“If I ever find out you lied to me,” he growled, filling you again and again as he started thrusting, “you’re not gonna like the punishment you get. I don’t care how sweet, how pretty, or how fucking useful you are, you’re gonna be hurting. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes,” you whined, the pain almost tipping to pleasure before he got mean, fucking you into the floor.

“Yes, what, brat?”

“Daddy, yes da–”

“Fuck,” he moaned, drowned out by your screams.

Crocodile didn’t stop, fucking you as your body shook, fucking you until your tongue hung loose, the hint of drool at the corner of your lips.

“I’m gonna fill this bratty little pussy up, then you’re gonna be a good girl and tell the truth, because we can do this all night. Are you gonna be a good girl, or are we gonna have to keep taking turns ‘til your pretty little cunt starts crying?”

“I’ll be good, daddy. So good–”

“Mm, just like that. Fuck, you take my come so well…”

He filled you impossibly full, come spilling down the sides of his cock onto your already sticky thighs. Then he left you empty, but not cold, sliding down your body to press soft kisses to your neck and shoulder.

“You really are smitten, aren’t you, Croc?”

Mihawk’s taunt sent tension through the larger man’s body, and you held your breath while those silver gray eyes poured over your features.

“We’ve got a good girl here,” he countered, brushing hair from your face. “As long as she’s not a liar.”

“Yes, yes,” the swordsman tutted, “let’s get our girl cleaned up so she can tell us all about that hatred in her heart.”

The afterglow dwindled quickly at those words, but soon Mihawk was wrapping you in a tablecloth, lifting you into his arms. He hummed again when you let your head rest against his shoulder, tilting his face to leave a kiss on the top of your head. That little touch brought all your relaxation back, even from the frightening man that held you.

Buggy snuck a quick kiss to your cheek while everyone got a turn under the hot water, and sleepiness hit you hard as Mihawk wrapped a towel around you. You’d watched him shave while the shower warmed up, and now you stood on the fluffy bath mat, swaying while you stared at him in the large mirror. Crocodile had left, and Buggy hovered near the door, but you were caught on the swordsman.

“What’s that?”

You stepped closer, but pulled your hand back before picking up the dark glass bottle he’d titled into his palm. Those unreadable golden eyes flicked to you while he dragged his fingers over his jaw, spreading that incredible smelling liquid through his facial hair.

“You tell me, bloodhound,” he smirked, holding his palm in front of your face.

“Fuck, that smells so good.”

“Of course it does,” he chuckled, “what do you think is in–”

“Play your sniffing game tomorrow,” Crocodile grumbled through the door. “If our girl doesn't tell us the truth, we're gonna have a second round, and I’d like to get some sleep tonight.”

“Better not make daddy angry,” Mihawk warned in a hushed voice, nibbling on your ear before pushing you toward the door. “Better not make me angry either, rabbit. You know I can read you like a book.”

Shivering, you moved past Buggy’s wide eyes, glad to have him there. Mihawk guided you to sit against the headboard while the three of them sat around the edges of the bed, surrounding you again.

Silence strangled you, and you were about to crawl out of your skin until they all started speaking at once. The others conceded, leaving Mihawk to lean forward, touching your ankle as he spoke.

“Tell us the real reason why you hate your wealthy clients, hate wealthy people in general? There’s something personal, and we need to know before you invite a whole slew of them to our lovely home. Can’t have you poisoning all the people who might give us berry now, can we?”

“I’m sure I’m not the only person who thinks rich people are trash,” you laughed awkwardly, yelping as his long fingers dug into your skin. “I'm s-sorry, it's just a joke…”

“Answer the question,” Crocodile ordered. His voice was empty, leaving your mind to fill in the terrifying blanks of what he had in store for you if you failed him.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” you sighed, covering your face with your hands while you tried to pull your thoughts together. You opened your eyes to catch Buggy’s soft, worried smile, and you knew his hands would be comforting you right now if he thought they’d allow it.

“I grew up with money, alright,” you spilled out, sounding more annoyed than you’d meant to.

Dead silence was finally killed by Mihawk’s derisive laughter.

“No wonder she’s such a brat, Crocodile. We’ve got a spoiled, little rich girl on our hands.”

“Shut up!”

Clamping your hands over your mouth too late, your eyes darted between all of their shocked faces. Buggy’s head had lifted a couple of inches off his neck, as if the force of his eyebrows raising had pulled it into the air. You bit your lip hard to keep from releasing panicked laughter. Crocodile moved closer, mirroring Mihawk with his hand on your leg.

“Tell us why you’re angry,” he soothed, rubbing his thumb along your skin. “But you need to stop making us dig for it, sweetheart. I’m not known for my patience.”

Blinking away stupid tears before they could fall, you nodded, letting your head fall back against the headboard before trying to speak. When the words finally came, it was like an echo through an empty room, your eyes almost unfocused as you told the boring tale.

“Family was rich. I grew up in those circles with all the parties, and galas, and expectations. I didn’t like it then either. But my dad died…”

Emotion swelled through the emptiness, and you had to swallow it down to steady your voice again. One of Buggy’s hands flew to yours, and no one stopped you from holding it.

“We stopped being rich. All those friends and neighbors stopped seeing us as real people. Even the parts of my family that are still rich treated us… They wanted us to beg for their help. To roll over, and let them– Fuck!”

They were all frozen through your frustrated yell. Buggy’s hand floated anxiously at your side after you’d dropped it to throw your hands into the air, digging your nails into your palms as anger rocked you.

Why am I doing this? I’m such a fucking idiot.

Your scolding thoughts couldn’t stop the wave of rage as it pushed through you.

“I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to talk about them. How badly are you gonna hurt me tonight if I don’t tell you anything else? Why don't I save you some time, because I will take a lot of punishment if we can just fucking drop it.”

The ringing in your ears seemed to last for hours until your labored breathing started to calm. Blue, gold, and silver eyes pierced through your body like vicious jewelry, clinging to your skin as you tried to disappear. You went unfocused again, staring vaguely toward the crown moulding as you awaited whatever pain they might inflict.

Almost at once, the three of them crawled forward, and you held your breath as they settled around you, their warm hands smoothing over your body. Mihawk and Crocodile brought their lips to your skin, Mihawk’s trailing down your neck while you twitched and whined. Crocodile kissed your temple before breathing along your ear.

“We promised to take care of you, Y/N. Want us to take care of somebody for you?”

“Hm,” you asked, a headache forming from the onslaught of emotions.

“You’re ours, little rabbit. If you'd like someone to die, all you have to do is point the way.”

“Just tell me who, sweetheart. Daddy’ll gut them for you.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: I honestly thought we'd never get to the reader's back story what with all the fuckin' 😅

Part 14

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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mosaickiwi · 1 day

Text

Your Actual First Kiss

@taeee0902 first kiss with redacted fdsjklfsdjalk

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~Your Actual First Kiss~

Hiding their nerves behind his normal cool demeanor, [REDACTED] let you push them down on the couch and lay atop his chest. You’d been getting bolder in the past few weeks of dating and he was ecstatic about it. Still, he always played a passive role as you got comfortable, intent on having you set the pace for every encounter.

You fiddled with the collar of his shirt for a while, then shyly asked, “So… when can I kiss you?”

“Whenever y’want,” came their instant reply. He’d been patient for the moment you were ready, but felt just as delighted that you asked them.

“Right now?”

[REDACTED] blinked for a second, blood warming his cheeks as he muttered, “‘Course, Angel. It’d actually… be my first.”

“Really?” you asked innocently, smiling and leaning down over him.

They knew you were only teasing. He’d never even think of giving their first anything to anyone other than you. The man could feel the redness crawling further up to his ears as you leaned closer.

You suddenly pulled away and frowned to yourself. “I’m a little disappointed it’s not my first, though.”

His blue eyes widened a fraction, though the information wasn’t a surprise to them. Well aware of your past relationships—and all the ups and downs they entailed—he immediately knew which one you were thinking about. “It’s not?” they gently pried, testing the waters of how much you wanted to open up.

“Yeah, it was a long time ago. The relationship was kind of… messy?” Your brow wrinkled and your tone turned a touch softer as you dwelt on it. “I wish it never happened, honestly.”

He couldn’t voice his own thoughts just yet. Their heart sank at the idea that they couldn’t go back and fix it—to make sure you’d never have such an ill gotten memory that made you upset, no matter how small. It’d be easier to give you a better experience now.

“Then it didn’t happen,” [REDACTED] decided aloud.

You raised your eyebrow and crossed your arms over his chest. “But it did?”

“If y’don’t like it, ‘didn’t happen,” he repeated. He absently brushed a hand through your hair, lingering at the nape of your neck. “Y’can try again with me, yeah?”

“Oh…” The frown on your face quickly melted away, replaced with the shy, devious smile you wore when you pushed him down earlier. “Yeah.”

Lips parted, breath caught in his throat, your ever-patient hacker waited as you leaned down once more to bring your lips close to theirs. He could hardly form a thought the moment they felt your breath, then your warm skin.

It was everything he imagined it’d be. From how they felt your heart beating in an uneven rhythm with his, down to the way you tasted was just what he dreamed of each night. One kiss from his angel was worth the seemingly endless years of waiting.

As you pulled away—no doubt stealing what little breath remained in them—he followed after, the desperation he normally kept at bay rising to the surface as he held you close with their hand on your cheek.

“H-how…” [REDACTED] laughed, caught off guard by the butterflies in his stomach that made them trip over their words. “How’s that? Better?”

You bit your lip and he noticed the sparkle in your eyes as you had to fight off your own butterflies. “Perfect, Ren,” you whispered.

#14 days with you #14dwy redacted #14dwy ren #momo reqs #silly guy #real bottom energy for redacted in here lmfao #soooo funny that google doc says dwelt is incorrect and i gotta go “ur lying to me” but change it anyways #then firefox says um actually ☝🤓 dwelled is wrong #never correct me again google you SHEEP! /silly #anyways i'm on my 15 minute break now!!!

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high-queen-feyre · 3 days

Text

I wonder what it's like to be the heir to a tryant High Lord.

A child to a horrible parent.

To grow up by their side, knowing as a kid what they're doing isn't right, but not knowing what's wrong.

To never be good enough, strong enough, powerful enough, brave enough, to never be right just existing .

No son of theirs would play an instrument made for people lesser than them, he should know he is above that.

No son of theirs would fly over their court using the wings he was born with, wings that showed his lesser heritage, he should know it isn't right to.

No son of theirs would grow to be kind in a court that wasn't made to be kind, he's the eldest of 7, he should know better than that.

No son of theirs would never just be a son, a child.

Forced into their position, no court would accept a half breed as High Lord, not unless he forced them, not if he wore a mask of his father, turning into him without even realising it with every passing day till he forgot who he was and became his father. Forgotten was the boy who liked to fly outside at night, the one who befriended others way below him as his father would say, gone was the boy who gave bastards a chance at friendship.

What would the court think if they knew their High Lord never even wanted to be one? He had to keep up his appearance, sit on a throne and demand a family with no home to give him something every two years. He hadn't learn anything on how to be a High Lord, he'd never wanted to be, content on being in a warband writing poetry, playing his fiddle for his friends to enjoy, friends his father would not consider good enough. Gone was the boy who felt joy at the simplest of things, not a little boy but still not a right man, even after knowing what he shouldn't do, ended up doing most of it while wanting to be different.

Then there is the heir who wears his own mask of indifference, he knows what his father does is wrong, and his act is to protect himself the best he could from the father who tortures his sons, the husband who beats his wife. Ordering his younger brothers like they are his hounds, losing his relationship with his favorite one because "Half" comes before brother. All he can do is hope he doesn't end up like his father.

But when does a mask turn into who you are? Who you were lost in the ruins of what was meant to be your childhood.

A victim in their story, a villain to whoever sees from the outside.

I wonder what it it's like to be the heir of a tryant High Lord, because from outside, it just looks like a High Lord who will never be good enough.

Because for me, that box is already crossed, to never be good enough, a child to a horrible parent, I can feel myself slipping behind my own mask.

A phrase that shouldn't be an insult is already coined as one.

"You act like your father"

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eros-ghoulette · 1 day

Text

Such a moment

Fluff. Just fluff. (The GIF is random, but you'll get it if you read it)

Characters: Ifrit, Zephyr, Mountain, Aether Word count: 672

There was only one word to describe how their day had been: exhausting. Ifrit and Zephyr both collapsed on the fireghoul's bed. Ifrit's face buried into a pillow, his legs dangling over the edge; he let out a small noise that reminded the other of a baby lynx they once saw in a nature documentary. A chuckle escaped the airghoul as they thought about it, earning Ifrit's attention.

“What?” he asked, one eye closed as he turned his head to face his mate. Zephyr could only laugh more as they saw the incredibly adorable expression on his face and reached out to take Ifrit's hearing aid off, a small ritual of theirs.

“Nothing,” they said, giggling, “you’re just cute, you know?”

Even after all this time, a faint blush appeared on his cheeks. Zeph rarely said such things, and when they did, it always felt really special to Ifrit. He hid his face in the pillow again and sighed: “I need to shower.”

The airghoul nodded and sat up; their legs were hurting. Zeph knew they wouldn’t shower today. Not even bathing felt like a good decision to them. Walking for hours around the city without their cane hadn’t been a good idea, but here they were. Ifrit also pulled himself up now, tilting his head to look at Zephyr, a smile on his lips.

“Should I get us something to eat beforehand?” he asked.

“No, you'll go showering, I'll get us dinner,” they said.

“Okay.” The guitarist knew better than to say anything against it and stood up to pick up a fresh pair of pyjama pants. His hand brushed over Zeph's cheek before leaving the room.

The moment Ifrit left, Zephyr pulled out their phone, calling Mountain. While on the phone, they took their cane and left, heading for the kitchen. The tall ghoul helped them prepare a plate of sandwiches and carried it back to Ifrit's room. They walked past the bathroom, hearing the loud music Ifrit usually listened to when he showered.

“Can you also help me with the mattress, please?” Zeph asked, rummaging through the closet and pulling out a few blankets. They hissed as their knee cracked loudly.

Mountain nodded. “Sure, what do you wanna do with it?”

“Put it next to the bed.”

The drummer also helped with the rest, getting some chairs and attaching the blankets to form a cave. He also brought some fairy lights from his room to make the pillowfort more comfy, and then helped Zephyr to bring all the pillows from their room into Ifrit's.

When Ifrit came back to his room, he found the lights dimmed. The airghoul was nowhere to be seen. Ifrit felt himself grinning like a little kid as he saw the pillowfort, his tail wagging behind him. Just two minutes later, Zeph came back in a pair of black sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

“You like it?” they said, smiling as they saw the excited fireghoul. His hair still a bit wet and the scar on his head clearly visible under his freshly cut sides.

Ifrit rushed over and stole himself a quick kiss, practically bouncing with eagerness to crawl into the pillowfort.

They ended up sitting close together, their tails intertwined as Ifrit searched for a film to watch on their laptop, Zephyr munching on one of the sandwiches. He finally settled on Miss Undercover, a film both of them liked. Ifrit wrapped one arm around his mate, making sure that Zeph found a position that wouldn’t hurt them.

A few hours later, the only thing to be heard was their mutual purring coming from the pillowfort. Zeph spread out on their back, Ifrit's arm over their belly, his head on their chest, drooling a bit on Zeph's shirt. Next to them, an empty plate, just some breadcrumbs left and the turned-off laptop.

When Aether came to get them for breakfast in the morning, he couldn’t help but take a pic and let them sleep. He definitely wouldn’t want to interrupt such a moment.

__________________________________

i died while writing this because they are too AHHHHHH and i wanna watch Miss Undercover and my legs hurt

@aweisz there you go

#me and who?#zephyr ghoul #ifrit ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #ifrit x zephyr #ghost band #the band ghost #disabled ghouls #partly deaf Ifrit #ficlet #eros writing

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fizzywashere87 · 1 day

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Not So Bitchless Anymore Then

|Touchstarved? Donnie x Reader Pt. 2|

notes: this is the part two of @did-i-mention-the-shirt's fic so you should go read that first!!

Pt. 1 | M.List

(Name)'s heart might've stopped beating as he wet his lips and nodded.

The instant regret that had washed over them as they had asked the question faded into relief yet- their heart was beating in their throat as he leans closer, closer. (Name) slowly closes their eyes, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. They were sure he could see the pink dusting their cheeks.

(Name) could feel Donnie's warm breath fanning over their face, it was getting warmer and warmer as he closed the distance little by little.

Sensing his shyness and slight hesitance, (Name) pulled him closer, close enough to touch their lips to his as they leaned up to reach. Everything from then on was natural instinct, and damn it felt like the stars came down to surround them and hold them both tightly.

Their lips moved in sync, inexperienced, sure, but neither of the two would say they regretted it. His lips moved to encase theirs instead of how it started, his hands trailing to their hips and their hands trailed to his shoulders.

It felt like forever passed by over once, once moreover. Until, they pulled away gasping for air. The pair, faces red, kiss-dazed, and in love, stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds, processing what had just happened.

Of course, once they both snapped out of it, (Name) found Donnie with a smug smirk across his features, "Not so bitchless anymore then, hm?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"You calling me a bitch, Donatello?" (Name) raised a brow in mock anger, though letting a smile break through when they seen his facial expression morph into slight fear.

"No- That's-" (Name) cut him off with another peck to his lips.

The way they looked at him was almost unrecognizable, it was like their features had softened, welcomed him inside. He wanted to see more of it already. More of it, he knew he would see.

"Donnie," (Name) chirped up again once more.

"Yes?" He responded, having a good feeling about this one.

"Are we like- dating now?" (Name) asked in a softer, quieter tone.

Donatello licked his lips once more, and nodded confidently this time, "I would enjoy that, yes."

For the first time in a excruciating long time, (Name) flashed him a smile. A smile that wasn't smug, teasing, mocking, or because they had been laughing. It was a sincere smile. A beautiful one at that. He couldn't wait to see more of that. (Name) wasn't so mean when it comes to love it seems.

Donatello wasn't so bitchless anymore after all.

#fizzytried #fizzyusedabraincell #lee-spawned-in!#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #colab fic #read pt.1 first!!#tmnt x reader #donnie x reader #rise donnie #x you

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rdr2stories · 2 days

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"Husband" a jovier fanfic.

A short fanfiction about John thinking about his relationship with Abigail and his old with Javier.

The night was quiet and cold, not a single sound to be heard except the occasional sigh from the sleeping woman beside him as she turned. This was not what he had imagined laying next to his wife would feel like. Wasn't he meant to feel warm lying next to the person he would spend the rest of his life with? How was it possible for him not to feel warm when she was? Wasn’t it physics that he should be warm?

Abigail did look pretty laying there with her ruffled hair spayed over her sleepy face and her mouth slightly parted. That little feeling in the bottom of his stomach grew again and he wanted to vomit, that thought creeping in the back of his mind, pretty not attractive. Had he ever found her attractive? Had he never admired her in a way that wasn’t the same as when he admired Arthur? Someone he was close to who looked good but… not good.

What a fool he was, of course, he had, she was his wife, they had a child, they had laid together, of course he found her attractive.

It wasn’t just his own doubting voice that nagged at the back of his head, but another, one that had spoken to him many many years ago that still would not leave hin alone.

It had been a night just like that one, a quiet night that had been even colder, but he hadn’t felt cold, he had felt warm pressed up against Javier’s chest, looking at his lips, studying the ways that they slightly parted as he breathed in through his mouth, a little habit he had.

He had been happy then, properly happy, laying next to Javier, the two of them simply watching each other with soft, affectionate eyes. John had never felt as much affection towards anyone as his brother in arms, the man who had saved him a million times, the man he had saved a million times.

The man.

Even then, in the happiest of their moments, it had been there in the back of his mind. Man. He had been okay with it because he hadn’t seen it as something that would last. He knew he couldn’t allow it to no matter how much he loved Javier. Unconventional love was accepted in the camp, they had rejected the law so why not the social norms as well, but it still hung on a little bit. The gang would allow flings between men, heck it was common even, back then it hadn’t been uncommon for John to catch Sean and Lenny at it in his tent, but long-lasting love? The marriage kind? It still wasn’t accepted between the boys.

Javier had kissed John, John had kissed back, he loved Javier, he had known that, he had also known he had loved him more than Abigail, he just hadn’t accepted it. No matter what aspect of Abigail he thought of, whether it be beauty, intelligence or personality, he always liked Javier better… Javier knew, John knew that Javier knew and John knew that Javier wanted more. He wanted the kind of love that wasn’t theirs to have.

“We could do it, you know,” Javier said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. “We could do it.”

John let out a slight huff. “What makes you think we wouldn’t be skinned alive?”

“Dutch and Hosea has done it,” Javier replied as he brushed a few strains of hair behind John’s ear. “They are together, they ain’t married but they are together in every other way, no one has skinned them, people respect them.”

John shook his head. “They don’t respect them, they just fear Dutch and like his plans enough to overlook his love with Hosea, who no one respects. Was it Hosea with someone else? They would have tried to slaughter him, would they have come far? No, but they would have tried.”

“Then let’s make them fear us,” Javier cupped John’s face. “We got the looks for it, the record as well.”

John sighed. “I don’t think it would work Javi.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love Abigail?”

“Yes.”

Javier raised a brow. “I meant do you love her the way you love her?”

“No,” John frowned. “Of course not. I love you like… I don’t know, a lot. I love her like a wife, I guess.”

Javier sighed. “John, you won’t be happy with her, she won’t be happy with you either. She feels the way about Sadie as you do with me, you are just trapped by the idea that a man and a woman is the only way love will last.”

John wiggled his way out of Javier’s arms, sitting up and looking down at Javier. “It is the only way.”

“Hosea and Dutch.”

“Dutch got Molly.”

“But he doesn’t love her,” Javier sat up and looked at John’s conflicted face, he knew, but he wouldn’t accept. “Not like he loves Hosea. If they can, so can we.”

John shook his head, covering the panic in his stomach with a disgusted face. “No, no we can’t, Javier we can’t-”

Javier sighed as he got to his feet, looking down at John. “Don’t come running when you realize I am right.”

It had been eight years since then and ever so often Javier’s words would pop up in John’s mind, but it was first then that he truly accepted that being Abigail’s husband did not mean the same as being Javier’s husband meant.

#john marston #jovier #rdr john #rdr2 #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 john #abigail marston #abigail roberts #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 javier #javier escuella

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shady-tavern · 2 days

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Preview for "Heartless" the May Patreon Short Story

Everyone knew of the mage who had lost his heart. Some said he had given it to a beautiful but cruel witch, who had kept it since as a trophy. Others said he had been so cruel the beautiful witch had taken it in a bid to stop him and he haunted the lands ever since, lost and searching for what had been stolen.

Others once again said he had gambled it away in the hopes of never again fearing the touch of death and decay.

The legend changed depending on the warning people wanted to impart, but everyone agreed on one thing: Anyone who was able to return the mage's heart was owed a wish. A powerful one at that, one that could even bring back the dead. Or so they said.

Many people had tried to retrieve the heart over the years. Older folk who desired to regain their youth, young lovers who wanted to stay together forever and grieving parents who wanted their slain children back. Even slighted nobles who wished to marry a king to climb in station and show up their rivals along with hopeful peasants who wanted to enrich their lives had given it a try.

The yearning for eternal beauty, for invincibility, the desire to grow rich and famous, love and greed, despair and dreams, all those and more had driven people to seek out the mage.

He wasn't terribly hard to find if one knew how to, people said. One needed a cloudless night during a full moon, creating a circle made of acorns and cornflowers. A bowl would be placed in four spots, facing the four points of the compass.

A bowl of milk facing the south, a bowl of salted mushrooms to the east, a bowl of white bones to the north and to the west stood a bowl filled with iron shavings.

Once those things were in place, one had to sing the mage's song. A lament that could not be messed up even once, nor was the singer allowed to stutter. The smallest misstep meant the mage would not deign to appear.

But once the ritual was completed, he'd be there, ethereal and beautiful. And very much heartless. Some people said his eyes were empty and black like coals, others said he was relentlessly hungry, a near mindless beast driven to try and get back what he had lost.

In stories he was either cold and uncaring or a moaning beast willing to tear people apart. Some said he ripped out their hearts when they failed to get him his back and that he stuffed theirs into his chest instead, only for the hearts to turn to dust in his hands.

Others said he was quite satisfied with his lot in life, that he liked not feeling anything, walking in eternal coldness. That it made him sharp and impossible to trick and that his magic had become all the more powerful for it.

Whatever truth there may be to these stories, one thing remained unchanged: He had no heart. No one had been able to give it back to him, no matter how hard they had tried.

You could admit that you liked hearing stories about something as wondrous and yet as far removed from your life as a heartless mage. Your life was quiet and gentle and you liked it that way. While you loved stories of kings and queens and magical conquests, of evil slain and good prevailing, of innocent people rescued, such things had no place in your day to day life.

You were the daughter of a warm, frugal man who had married a reasonably rich merchant, a woman who gave freely and happily and both of them had raised you with plenty of love and care. You had wanted for nothing when they filled the house with laughter and taught you everything they could with gentle hands.

When you had decided to become a bee keeper and candle maker, they had helped you fulfill your dream, asking around until they had found the perfect little home and plot of land for you to pay off, since you refused their money. They had already given you enough.

"What would you ask for, if you got the mage's heart?" your best friend asked when she visited you one afternoon to pick up the produce from your bees, a jar of honey and two candles you had made for her.

You paused for a long moment, looking outside the window to your flower fields and the approaching heavy rain clouds.

"I'd probably just give it back to him," you answered and at her incredulous look, you couldn't help but shrug. "I'm happy, right now there is nothing I'd ask for."

Happiness wasn't around every day of course. You had weathered many a storm, but largely you were, indeed, quite content with life. You had learned that even if dark times came, you could fight through them until you reached the light again. You could and would do it as many times as necessary.

"I'd probably ask for all the riches I could think of," your friend mused. "I'd love to go to the big city and attend the balls, you know? Dancing with dashing noblemen and women and just..."

She sighed wistfully, adding, "Just imagine it. Glittering jewel chandeliers and all those elegant, courteous people. No one farting at the dinner table or anything like that."

You couldn't help but laugh as you handed over the candles she had asked for. You had carved some delicate flowers along the outside per her request and her eyes lit up when she saw your handiwork.

"Why not marry the mage then? He should be able to give you all that with how sought after and highly regarded his kind are," you asked as she put everything into her basket.

"Mages are dangerous," she answered with a shake of her head. "I won't ever tangle with that. Besides, I heard that mages only appear beautiful at first. The longer you look at them, the stranger they become. I don't know. I don't think I could have a husband that would look less and less human every day."

That was reasonable enough, you supposed, if such things were true.

Your friend frowned a little and sighed, "Not that I'd ever get a chance to find his heart in the first place, if the legend is even true. Old Brenna swears up and down that she saw him once, but then again she also claims to have seen bog bies and little gnomes. Still, wouldn't it be nice to not be stuck here?"

"I quite like it here," you said and cast a glance outside the window. "And if you don't plan to either walk through the rain or stay for dinner you should probably get going."

Your friend leaned forward to peer up at the sky as well and made a face. "Damn, you're right. Alright, I'll see you again tomorrow?"

"You're welcome anytime," you reassured her and she left with a fond smile, telling you to drop by for dinner at her place sometime soon.

A minute after she left the first drop hit your window, followed by many more. You took a moment to stand there and close your eyes, listening to the pitter patter of rain coming down on your cozy little home. What a lovely sound.

You cleaned up around the house for a bit, listening to the calming, steady fall of rain, before you peered out the window again. It was getting late enough that you should lock the chickens in their coop so they'd be safe during the night.

Grabbing your wool cloak to stay safe from the rain and getting barefoot into your boots since you couldn't be bothered to put on socks, you stepped outside. The smell of rain and warm earth welcomed you as you walked down the small path to the coop, lightly hopping from one broad, flat stone to the next.

You hummed to yourself and before you knew it, you were singing the mage's song as you checked if the chickens were already safely inside their coop.

For all the joy, all the joy it brought to me

My heart longs, oh it longs to be set free

All's fair in love and war they say

But when your words, oh your sweet words wither and decay

My heart drowned, oh it drowned in sorrow's flood

So set me free, set me free so I can choose to land

In someone's kind and gentle hand

You weren't too worried about summoning the mage with just his song, considering the plethora of things one had to do on top of that – if he indeed existed. You doubted he'd even hear you singing in the rain in the first place.

If you were being honest, you quite liked the song, depending on your mood, you could sing it quickly and cheerfully or slowly and with melancholy. Today you sang it light and sweet with an undertone of joy, fitting to the good mood the gentle rain had brought as you locked in your chickens.

It took you a moment to notice the steady, muffled sound of footsteps and when you turned around, curious and surprised, you stilled, the song dying on your lips.

You knew it was the mage with just a glance. He stood tall and with elegant poise, his long, flowing robes were black as night and raven-dark embroidery shimmered on it in the dim, evening light falling through thick clouds.

His missing heart was easy to see, a ring of light glowing softly on his chest, reminding you of the solar eclipse you had seen once.

His long, pale hair fell down his back like a wave of shimmering silver and his lashes were dark and thick, his eyes a soft lavender. His eyes were the only bits of true color on him.

Even the jewelry he was decked in was pale. The delicate silver crown with it's glittering gems, the earrings on his pointy ears, the rings on his elegant fingers and the necklace around his throat, they all looked like they were woven out of starlight and white gold.

"Good evening," the mage said and your friend had been right about one thing, the longer you looked at him, the less human he appeared.

His lavender eyes held a shine that was deeper and stranger than even the oldest woods, his nails seemed just a tad too hard and long, hinting at claws, his hair too shimmering and silver and his clothes were made of no fabric you had ever seen before.

He seemed utterly out of place, standing among the flower fields that surrounded this side of your home, rain gently drumming down.

"I had not expected to hear my song tonight," he said, soft spoken and polite, but you weren't fooled. Mages were dangerous and you had been raised with a good head on your shoulders. "Especially without any of the usual provisions. Are you to make a bid for my heart?"

"Oh, my apologies," you hurried to say, nervously gripping your woolen cloak as you peered at him past the rim of your hood. "I merely like your song, I had not intended to call upon you. I honestly thought it wouldn't work without all the other demands being fulfilled."

His head tipped slightly, the fine, delicate chain on one ear glittering with the movement. "I see. Now that I did appear anyway, do you intend to make a bid for my heart?"

You wondered if it was painful for him, to wander around without one. If he was caught in a perpetual search for the next person who could gain it and trade it back for a wish. If maybe, between being summoned by songs, he was hunting for his heart himself.

"No," you answered honestly. You personally did not much enjoy lying in the first place, it only caused problems sooner or later. "I have no desire for your heart."

He blinked once and there was a pause, as though he was carefully choosing his words. "And what about a wish?"

You couldn't help but gesture all around you. "I like my life, I like this place and my work here and those I love are happy and healthy enough." Could wishes even make people truly happy? Or were they tricks, like fae deals? "There is little I want and the things I do desire I intend to get on my own."

He seemed surprised at your answer and then he was smiling and everything about him seemed just a tad brighter, from the glow on his chest to the glittering jewelry and the silver shine of his hair.

"A fair answer from a fair heart, I am glad to hear as much," he said, a touch of real warmth entering his voice. "My apologies for disturbing you then. Have a good evening."

He offered a polite little bow and was about to move on when you realized that he was getting more drenched with every moment. And while he was a mage, you did feel a bit bad that you had summoned him into this weather unintentionally.

"Would you like to come in?" you asked and he paused, glancing at you. "At least until the bad weather is over. I've been told I make pretty good food, too."

He blinked and water trailed over his crow, dripping off at the edges and he inclined his head in agreement, appearing somewhat curios.

You led the way back to your little home and held the door open for him. Toeing off your shoes and as he stepped inside, you fetched a linen towel for him and handed him the slippers you kept around for when you had visitors with bigger feet.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said and you felt the brief shiver of magic in the air that dried him entirely as he refused the towel with a rather kind smile.

You left him to look around your open living room and kitchen as you started to boil water for a pot of tea. He was quite respectful of your space, glancing at some paintings you kept around and your little knickknacks on display.

He did pause when he saw your work, the candles you had finished today, some already packaged to be sent out tomorrow. The temple had a regular order that you fulfilled and they were due another delivery.

"You are quite skilled," he said and gestured at the candles you had carved and painted for market day. "May I?"

"Go ahead," you told him, digging out the fancy tea your mother had gifted you as a house warming gift.

By the time the tea was done, the mage had selected a few candles and upon inquiring for their prices, paid for them.

"May I put in an order?" he asked. "Some of my spellwork requires candles. Would you be willing to make enchanted ones as well, so long as I bring you the necessary components?"

"Can I even enchant candles? I'm about as ordinary as they come," you answered and the mage's face lit up.

To your surprise, the ensuing conversation and discussion about magic and magical properties that some things inherently possessed and how ordinary people could use them as well, was quite fun and interesting.

Before you knew it, you had served dinner and the mage had complimented you for the good food and you kept talking as the rain kept falling outside, moving into your living room to get comfortable on the two seats you had placed near the small fireplace.

You genuinely had so much fun you even managed to make the mage laugh, the jewelry on his ears tinkling softly as he was gripped by mirth. You were sad to see him go when the thrum of rain stopped at last.

"Feel free to visit whenever you want," you said with a smile as you accompanied him to the door. "I'm here most days and it can get quite lonely." You loved your friends and family, but they had their own lives and their own responsibilities and relationships to care for. You didn't get to see them as often as you'd like.

"I understand that all too well," the mage said with a little smile, melancholic and soft, that told you he indeed knew what it was like. "I will take you up on that offer. Ah, may I tell my friends and acquaintances about you as well? They have been looking for a good candle supplier for some time."

"Oh, of course, though, maybe give me some time to figure out how to create enchanted candles," you answered and he obligingly bowed his head a little.

As he left, he did so with a last smile, his jewelry shimmering as though freshly polished and his hair as fine as spun silver coated in starlight. He was gone just like that, melting into the dark of night as though he had become one with it.

Closing the door you went and cleaned up and finished packing away the candles for the next day. As you went to bed, you couldn't help but think that he didn't seem to be in pain, at the very least.

Still, you couldn't imagine that being heartless was very pleasant.

*.*.*

Would you like to read more? Then head over to my patreon and check out my stories there or give the masterpost a look!

Thank you all so much for your support, it makes it an absolute joy to keep writing stories!

#my writing #preview #magic #love #the special care and handling of hearts #hope you'll like it!#short story #spilled ink

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