#cin's fics

my fellow stormhedge enjoyers, i have officially posted my first dunk/lyonel fic! it's a oneshot modern!au where duncan is a construction worker and lyonel is a hairdresser, and a fun silly time ensues!

you can read it here, on my AO3!

i'll post a snippet of the fic under the cut, but first, a song to set the mood:

{okay, now here's some story! 👇}

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 魔男のイチ | Madan no Ichi | Ichi the Witch (Manga) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Desscaras/Hitsugi Characters: Desscaras (Madan no Ichi), Hitsugi (Madan no Ichi) Additional Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Sexual Coercion, Psychological Torture, Dom/sub Undertones, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Inappropriate Use of Hitsugi's Extra Mouths, Inappropriate Use of the Italicized 'Oh', Hitsugi's P.O.V. Summary:

It was an expression of exquisite anguish. The way Desscaras’s face had crumpled. The speed at which she moved. The utter silence past the clatter of her weapon hitting the deck. How her hands grasped at her brother’s form, despite Libro’s tiny teeth digging into her shoulder. Truly, Hitsugi was seeing a monster brought to her knees, and they hadn’t had to so much as lift a finger. The dead closed in on her, covering her in waves, hiding her from their view. Hitsugi frowned. It wasn’t enough, this distant glimpse. They wanted to see the gold of her eyes turn to patina. They wanted to be at the epicenter of that beautiful despair, not a distant observer.

Or

hello my little doveys! 🕊️ the newest chapter of my fic is up!

bilbo is recounting what happened the night of the crowning ceremony. what happened? what did his friends know? and how did he get that bruise?

~and a lil sneak peek into the chapter...~

🌀~🌀~🌀

“Must you always have that look about you?” Bilbo asked him.

Thorin snarled at him. “What look?”

“That one! You are always so somber about everything!” 

“Well, how would you prefer I look?” He leaned in to Bilbo, challenging him.

“Uh- well, I don’t know, but I think a little more cheerfulness would do you good!”

Thorin’s look softened as a small laugh escaped him. “A little more Hobbit-ness, you mean?”

“Oh, perhaps so; good idea!” He laughed and leaned closer to the King’s side. Thorin either did not notice this or did not care enough to move. In fact, he moved so his arm lay against the wooden bench behind Bilbo’s head. 

“Save me from the impishness of Hobbits,” Thorin teased at his drunken mate, and Bilbo responded with a playful slap on the arm. 

He teased back. “Oh, do not pretend to act as if you don’t enjoy it all! Besides,” he leaned in closer, “it was you who said you could not bear to lose me.”

Thorin’s face reddened. Bilbo was drunk, and flushed, and breath-taking in the light, and so close to his face he could smell the puffs of liquor-laced breath he breathed out. They sat there, locked into one another’s gazes, waiting for something to happen. The Hobbit touched his hand to his face, gently, and Thorin put his own hand on top.

“By the light of all my stars, I have never met a creature such as you,” Thorin said softly, and leaned in to close the gap between them. 

Thump!