#//I wanted to show regal yet spring

[writingouthere]

neighbor!sukuna x singlemom!reader. Sukuna picks up your daughter from school, he makes quite the impression and we learn more about his background.

cw: None really here except I guess this is low key becoming a slow burn, idk.

You were stuck at work and didn't have anyone else who could go get your daughter so you had asked Sukuna. The tattoo shop was usually slow in the evening this far into winter anyway, and he couldn't imagine saying no to you even if he'd been fully booked.

It felt strange to be going outside when it was still light out but Sukuna took in the sights as other people walked around, other parents clearly in the process of picking up their children from school.

Not that Bug was his kid, at least not as far you knew. Yet.

Sukuna didn't do things halfway, just wasn't in his nature. He knew he was moving fast, he had put up with his little brother Yuji's nervous protests at dinner the week before when he had explained his new living situation, but he wasn't going to slow things down when they were going so well.

For a long time, it had just been him and Yuji. There had been other relatives, like Yuji's grandfather and his freak of a mother, but the two had mostly bounced around foster homes and made due until Sukuna was old enough to take care of them both. Yuji was graduating college in the spring and Sukuna had been alone since he left for the dorms and now he had an apartment with some friends from school. Sukuna was proud of his brother, he was one of the only people he really gave a fuck about. Their lives had been hard and that had made Sukuna even harder. Yuji had never been like that, he had come through even kinder than the average person and Sukuna could admire the strength that showed in it's own way.

The point was, Sukuna had paid his dues. He had done right by his brother even when the world had done them so wrong and now he was ready for his reward. You and the little girl he was about to go get.

The daycare was inside of a little beige building, decorated with those tacky outlines of children playing and some fucking mural with birds that always seemed to cover the walls of places like this. Parents, mostly moms, walked out with their children in tow, asking about their days and zipping up coats. Sukuna noticed the double takes as they took him in, the way the adults seemed to pull their little ones closer. That was fine by him, he didn't want any of these fucking rugrats near him except his own.

"Ryomen Sukuna, mom should have added me to the pick-up list," he told your daughter's teacher, showing her his ID. She didn't react to his tattoos or general aura with anything but a smile and he supposed that childcare workers must be aware more than most that they really do let anyone be a parent.

"Of course, I'll go get her while you sign here," she said handing over a clipboard with the names of all the kids in the center along with blue pen with a fuzzy pompom attached to it. While he was signing his name he heard a familiar squeal and looked to see your daughter running towards him as fast as her little legs could carry her.

"Sukuna!"

She tripped on some particularly tricky air and Sukuna moved forward to pick her up before she could face plant on the hard tile.

"Careful there bug, told mom I'd bring you home in one piece."

She ignored him and started babbling nonsense about her day that Sukuna could only really catch half of, but he nodded and hmmed as he finished signing her out and with a quick nod to the amused staff member, he headed out.

He shifted her on his hip so he could finish zipping up her coat. What was it with kids and their refusal to just zip up their damn coats? He remembered Yuji had been the same.

Bug continued to regale him with tales of her day until she eventually squirmed on his hip, the universal signal for "put me down until I get tired and whine for you to pick me up again" and Sukuna put her down on the sidewalk but took her backpack which he slung across his shoulder and then grabbed her hand with his. He could see people take second looks at the two of them and he supposed they cut quite the picture. The tall scary guy with tattoos carrying a pink princess backpack and the little girl pulling him down the sidewalk.

"We in a rush or something?"

Your daughter laughed and said something about being hungry for dinner with mommy which he could get behind. You both had only been living with him for a week but you already had a bit of a routine. He made breakfast in the morning while you got the kid ready but you always made dinner that was ready when he got home. It was nice, domestic. It felt like what he imagined life was like for people who had normal families when he had been a young kid. Holding a crying, hungry baby Yuji on his lap while they ate whatever he could scrounge up in whatever shithole they were in that week.

He remembered when Yuji had been the same age as your daughter and the idea of her ever living in the places they had, or going through the things they had made him pull her a little closer.

He wasn't going to lie to himself and say he was a good man or that he wanted you, the both of you, for some pure love nonsense but he knew he wanted you all the same. He had done terrible things and he would do them all over again if it led to this moment where he watched as your daughter cooed over the neighbor's dog. Said neighbor looking at him in confusion and fear as he told your daughter they needed to leave the fleabag alone and go home.

Later, when Sukuna was working on dinner and your daughter was sitting on the counter, "helping", he heard the sound of a key in the lock.

"I'm home," you called out and Sukuna called out that they were in the kitchen.

"Hey, thank you so much for getting her. I just wasn't going to make it in time," you said, picking up your daughter.

"No worries, we weren't busy at the shop today anyway." You hummed and smiled at him.

"Still."

"You can go ahead and change," he told you and you looked ready to protest when he went to grab your daughter from you but then Bug went willingly and he saw how you melted at the two of them. Good.

"Okay, but when I get back I'm taking over dinner."

Sukuna agreed and he watched as you walked away, admiring the way your clothes hugged your frame. He was glad the only witness to his hunger was a toddler who was more interested in poking his cheek than observing social cues.

The rest of the evening passed peacefully and Sukuna felt what he could only describe as content. When your daughter started to nod off on your shoulder, you got up from the couch to take her to bed, telling Sukuna he should stay and that you got it. With your daughter on one hip, you used your free hand to press against his shoulder and lean down to where he was still on the couch. He closed his eyes at the feeling of your lips pressing gently against his cheek and then with a quick goodnight, the two of you were in your room, the door closing with a quick 'click'.

The gesture had been so innocent and Sukuna would have mocked anyone he knew who got so flustered over a gesture as meaningless as a kiss on the cheek.

But how could any gesture be meaningless when it came from you?

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Tongue Piercing- Legolas x Alternative!Reader

Summary: Legolas is very interested in readers tongue piercing. They show him what it feels like

Word Count: 1, 262

The portraits that adorned the walls of the Mirkwood library could only be described as perfection. Legolas had wanted to show you all of his home, and had spent the past few hours walking with you and talking about its history and beauties.

As you walk along, viewing the regal art, you discover one that looks like your elvish tour guide.

“Legolas is this one you?” You ask smirking at the handsome elf.

“Um well, yes, yes that’s me. I didn’t have many portraits as a child, so last spring my father wanted a more important looking portrait done of me.” He explains bashfully.

Though Legolas was a prince and warrior, he could tend to get quite flustered when his status was mentioned. Legolas was quite a humble prince and he didn’t really like to be fawned over.

Looking up at the large portrait, you couldn’t help but marvel, not just at the quality of the art, but how the painting captured Legolas’ beauty; a beauty that was both strong and sweet. Taking in the art for so long, you began to become so enthralled that you hadn’t noticed you’d been playing with your tongue piercing, flicking it up and down and lightly running it through your mouth.

In your world, piercings weren’t all that odd and people didn’t really think twice or react too amazed at them, but in this world they were an abnormality. Being so used to your piercings normality, you were confused to hear Legolas’ light gasp beside you. Turning your head from the portrait, you look over to see Legolas’ eyes wide in both wonder and concern.

“Legolas, what’s the matter?” You turn to your new friend, concern now etched into your face as you lightly take his hand and shoulder.

Looking into his eyes and seeing his own flicking down to your lips, you began to understand. Seeing his worried expression about something you considered so mundane, you couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

“It’s my piercing isn’t it?” You smirk up at him.

“Yes, well, you, you have many piercings on your face but-I-I was unaware of your tongue. I mean your face is pierced and your tongue is um…” Legolas began to ramble, obviously not quite sure what to say, his flustered state making you laugh again.

“Legolas, it’s okay. It’s a tongue piercing. I have piercings on my face and tongue because they’re jewellery that I like the style of. I know it’s not common here so I understand your worry. Where I’m from they’re quite common.” You explain calmly to him, both of your hands now soothingly intertwined with his.

“May, may I ask you a question?” He says timidly, his eyes meeting yours shyly.

“Of course, Legolas. You don’t have to worry about offending me.” You reassure him with a sweet smile and a squeeze of his hands.

“Well, how, how does it feel?” He quietly asked.

“To have done or how does it feel in my mouth?” You genuinely asked.

“Bo-both I suppose.”

“Well it obviously hurts because it’s something being stabbed through my flesh,” you laugh jokingly, “but the pain was relatively quick and the healing wasn’t too bad.” You reassured your new friend.

“A-and in your mouth? I mean um..” he awkwardly questioned.

With the cute blush that now covered his cheeks and his awkward wording, you couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered state.

Since the moment you laid eyes on Legolas, you found him extremely attractive. As you got to know him, you found yourself craving the way he blushed and the friendly touches you gave each other. You hadn’t really done anything to properly flirt with him yet, but the way he was blushing and staring at your mouth, you couldn’t help but take up the opportunity to play with the sweet prince.

“Would you like to feel?” You asked him, your voice now dropping seductively as you moved slightly closer to him, your chests now almost touching.

“Ye- I mean if yo- you’re comf..”

Cutting him off, you take one of his fingers in your hand as you bring it to your open mouth. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you begin to swirl his long finger along your tongue. He can’t help but stare at you with desperate eyes, as if begging for something more but not knowing fully what he needs.

Seeing that Legolas was definitely into the little game you were playing, you decide to close your mouth around his finger and suck up and down, putting on a provocative show for the young prince. Legolas can’t help but let his eyes flutter slightly and moan at the show before him.

Releasing his finger with an exaggerated pop, Legolas lets out a quiet breathy moan. Smirking and biting your lip at the prince, you place his hand on your waist as you lean in close to his ear.

“Would you like to know how it feels against other things, Legolas?” You whisper seductively, your tongue coming out to lick along his neck, as your hand lightly strokes his hardening bulge.

“Mmm, y/n, pl-please.” He pathetically moaned out, head dropping back slightly.

“Please what, Legolas? What do you need, sweet prince?” You continue to tease him, your pierced tongue making its way up his neck and over his jaw.

“I-I- I need to feel you! Please make me feel good.” His moans growing louder as you rubbed his bulge faster.

“What a good boy.” You smirk against his neck.

Grabbing onto the back of his head you crash your mouth against his in a heated kiss. As your tongue slipped into his mouth and began exploring his, he gasped out at feeling the cool metal in his mouth. Continuing your heated assault on his mouth, your hand begins to pull down his trousers, his cock springing free and bobbing.

Breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his as you begin to stroke his hard cock. Your light strokes cause him to let out a whining moan, loving the feeling of your touch but needing more. Smirking and staring into his desperate eyes, you push him against the wall and drop to your knees in front of him.

Continuing to rub his length, you lick up the underside of his tip, making sure to dig your piercing into the sensitive skin. The delicious sensation causing his eyes to close and his head to lightly thud against the wall.

“You ready, Legolas?” You ask him, staring up at him sweetly.

“Please…” he begs sweetly, looking down at you with pleading eyes.

Smirking up at him, you lick the underside of his cock once again, before taking his whole head in your mouth. Starting to suck lightly, you begin to work him further into your mouth. The sweet moans and gasps from the elf prince above you sounded like heaven, and it only made you work faster with your hand and lick and stuck him harder.

It didn’t take long of your talented and studded tongue working Legolas before he started to lightly grind into your mouth, whimpering how good it felt and how close he was. With a sweet and breathy moan, Legolas released into your mouth. Tasting him on your tongue, you swallowed everything he gave you. Taking him out of your mouth, saliva and a small amount of cum on your lips, you smirk up at him as you give him one last little lick with your stud on his head, a small last little whimper leaving his sweet parted lips.

[psychospore]

A Visit to the Healer

A/N: Happy weekend! New smutty fic for everyone!

If you like this, you might wanna check out my Masterlist for more fics

Summary: Loki visits you, an Asgardian Healer one evening to relieve his burning ache.

Pairing: Prince!Loki x AsgardianHealer!Reader

Word count: 1202

Warnings: smut, 18+ DNI, mentions of sex etc..

You are one of the acclaimed healers for the Royal Family in Asgard, a feat for someone your age. Most healers you work with were as old as Odin themselves yet you were just a bit younger than Princes Thor and Loki. Your penchant for herbology and healing magic earned Frigga's favor and Loki's attention - both being respective powerful magic welders in the realm.

You were wrapping up a day's work in your own personal greenhouse, you were immersed in the silence of the night, only hearing the sounds of nature - just how you preferred it. You were organizing the manuscripts and tomes for various potions that you were developing that was sprawling on top of the immense oak table when you hear approaching footsteps. Long, light strides crunching the leaves underneath. You peeked and saw a familiar face - Prince Loki. His chiseled face was illuminated by the moon and looking all regal in his emerald, and gold Asgardian garb.

"It's already midnight. Has mother been overworking you again yn?" the prince inquired as he draws closer to you.

"Good evening, Loki. Fortunately not, I was about to retire for the night. What brings you here tonight? You don't seem to look injured for you to need my healing power" you responded as you organized the last tome back into the shelf.

" oh but I ache, the pain rippling throughout my body like bursts of electricity, my core burning with a strong desire waiting to be quenched" he teasingly cooed in your ear, only to receive a naive response.

"Norns, that doesn't sound good, I'll prepare a potion to make you feel better" you gestured for him to sit on the wooden chair, feigning ignorance about what he just said. A blush crept up on your face but you looked away so Loki wouldn't notice.

"You know that's not what I meant yn" he said sternly.

You sighed, you were trying so hard to curb your growing desire for Loki, and him doing this isn't helping your case at all. You love how passionate he is about magic and every time he visits you would just talk about it. But this visit has a deeper meaning than the previous ones.

Did he perhaps like you too? "Tell me, what is it then that you desire?" you wanted clarity - knowing full well he wanted more than just your herbs and potions.

He drew in, his warm hand grabbing you by the waist to pull you closer. You can feel his warm breath as he nuzzles on the crook of your neck making your legs feel like jelly and you start to pool with arousal "I want to claim you - I can't fight this feeling for you any longer. I want you to be mine and mine only.. tonight and forever. Please tell me you want it too"

You tried to process what just happened but your mind had started feeling hazy from arousal, you knew you want it as much as he does, "yes - I want this and I want you"

He crashed his lips to yours in a slow and sensual kiss, tongues intertwining in a sweet dance. His hands roam to undress you without breaking the kiss and you fiddle to unbuckle his belt too. Your clothes drop by your ankle as Loki admires your supple body, glistening in the flickering light of the lanterns. You did free his cock as well, springing out of the tight confines of his trousers and towering angrily towards his belly. You were in awe of this sight and wondered if this could ever fit you.

You kissed again, now his hands roaming around your body, groping both breasts and occasionally flicking your nipples - making you groan. He lifts you up so you sit on the oak table, your legs spreading to show a wet cunt waiting to be filled. He started stroking his cock as he looked at you with his lust-filled eyes.

You started touching yourself as well, lifting a leg up the table as you drew lazy circles on your clit, making you moan in pleasure. Loki can't help himself, he rushes to grip your inner thighs, lifting and spreading both of your legs on the table now and sinking deep into your throbbing wetness. He hungrily devours you, his nose brushing on your engorged nub as he licks and sucks you. Occasionally he darts his tongue inside you.

He then proceeds to wet his digits and carefully burrows them inside you. You bucked your hips and gyrate to match the tempo as he thrust his fingers inside you. His pace quickened as you felt your walls clenching him tightly, you threw your head back as you orgasmed, flooding his fingers. He licked his finger clean from your sweet nectar as he does with your pussy too. Your whole body shuddered.

He moved between your thighs to position himself, moving your butt slightly on the edge. His cock twitched as he guided it to your folds. He teasingly drew a strip across before slowly burrowing the tip inside. You gasped at his girth as he continue to slowly inch inside you until he was balls deep. He felt your wet walls clamping down on him and you dug your nails deep into his back. The pain and the pleasure urged him to take it slowly. He thrust slowly out, only leaving the tip inside before thrusting in again. He started picking up the pace and releasing a feral grunt every time he pushes himself deeper. You responded by moaning his name over and over as he crashes into your sweet spot. The dirty squelching your bodies produce were like an aphrodisiac to your ears. Your toe fingers curled as you slowly ascend to climax.

"Loki... I... I'm about to..." You mustered in between breaths, tears forming on the corners of your eyes

"Cum for me, darling.. let it out." He shakily responded.

You arched your back and pulled him closer as you had your sweet release, flooding Loki's cock inside you.

"I'm cumming to yn... Oh fuck"

It was the last thing you heard before you felt his warm seed spilling inside you. He pulled out and slumped on a chair behind him as he marvels at the mess you both made - your legs still spreading as your pussy drips from your combined cum unto the table, and spilling unto the floor. You lie there exhausted as Loki groggily stands up to help prop you up.

"you did amazing, darling. Far better than all the nights I spent fantasizing about you. I love you" he whispered as he plants small kisses on your forehead.

" I love you too..." You trailed off as you started rubbing your legs together.

"my darling, you're still horny, aren't you? Oh dear, we need to fix that" he teased.

"It was just too good!" You shyly responded, pursing your lips.

"I guess we will be having the greenhouse all to ourselves tonight. You might need your stamina potions, darling" he quips as he takes you in for another kiss before pulling down the table and flipping you over so he could take you from behind this time.

[sleekervae]

Wicked Games ❅ 20

Masterlist

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x socialite!fem!reader

Summary: Poisoned Wine

Warnings: poison, death, descriptions of pain, angst and public chaos

Word Count: 5,095

As Sable stood in front of the mirror, the vibrant red gown hugged her curves perfectly, shimmering like fresh blood under the soft light of her bedroom. She turned slightly, admiring the way the fabric flowed around her legs, the deep neckline and delicate lace sleeves framing her shoulders beautifully. The transformation was striking��she felt powerful, almost regal. But beneath the surface of elegance, her heart raced with the weight of her secret, the vial of poison nestled discreetly up under her dress, hidden from view but never far from her thoughts.

Behind her, Seline fussed with her own dress, a soft, pastel-colored number that suited her perfectly. The room was filled with the familiar scent of perfume, the rustle of fabric, and the quiet sounds of preparation as the two sisters shared this rare moment together. It reminded Sable of simpler times—before all of this, before politics and plots.

Seline hummed softly as she pinned her hair back, her eyes catching Sable’s in the reflection of the mirror. “You look beautiful, you know that?” she said with a small smile. “I still can’t believe how grown up we are. Sometimes, I swear it feels like we were just kids, sneaking out to the streets at night.”

Sable’s lips curled into a soft smile, the memory of those carefree moments flickering in her mind. “I know,” she replied, her voice gentle, touched with nostalgia. “Those nights feel like a lifetime ago.”

Seline nodded, her expression softening. “I miss them. Things were so much simpler then. Now everything’s about politics and weddings and… well, life, I guess.”

There was a brief pause, a comfortable silence that settled between them as they continued getting ready. For a moment, Sable could almost forget the vial hidden beneath her dress, the weight of the plan looming over the evening. Almost.

Seline let out a small sigh, breaking the quiet. “Speaking of weddings,” she said, her tone lightening, “I’m thinking about going with a spring ceremony. Maybe late April. The flowers will be perfect then. What do you think?”

Sable turned, offering her sister a warm smile. “That sounds beautiful. You’ve always wanted a spring wedding.”

Seline beamed, her excitement clear as she continued talking about flower arrangements and venues, her voice bubbling with the happiness of someone who had her whole future laid out before her. She had no idea what Sable was carrying with her tonight. No idea how drastically Sable’s future could change in just a few hours.

“Have you thought about the dress?” Sable asked, steering the conversation forward, hoping to keep the focus on something innocent, something far away from the dark thoughts swirling in her own mind.

“Oh, I’ve thought about the dress,” Seline laughed. “I just haven’t found it yet. But it’s going to be something classic, you know? Timeless.”

Sable nodded, her fingers absently brushing over the fabric of her gown. “Timeless sounds perfect for you.”

Seline smiled, tilting her head as she studied Sable for a moment. “You seem quiet tonight,” she remarked softly. “Nervous about the gala?”

Sable hesitated, her heart quickening just for a moment before she forced a calm smile. “A little,” she admitted. “I'm worried about Coriolanus...”

Seline, blissfully unaware of the true gravity of those words, nodded in understanding. “Hey -- whatever happens will happen. You will be just fine, always are. Besides, we’re all going to be there. It’ll be like old times—our whole family together.”

Sable nodded, her stomach twisting at the thought. Family. Together. The irony of it all struck her, knowing what she was planning, what she was carrying with her tonight. But she couldn’t let that show. Not now.

“Yeah,” she said softly, offering her sister another smile. “Like old times.”

As Sable helped Seline with the final touches of her hair, a restlessness stirred within her, an antsy energy she couldn’t shake. She brushed it off as nerves for the gala, but deep down, she knew the truth. Her thoughts drifted to Coriolanus, and a knot tightened in her stomach.

What if their plan didn’t go as smoothly as they hoped? What if the antidote didn’t take effect fast enough, or worse—what if something terrible happened to him? The idea of losing him, of their scheme unraveling, filled her with a sense of dread that threatened to overwhelm her.

She glanced at Seline, whose carefree chatter floated in the air like a soothing balm. In this moment, everything felt so delicate—like a spider’s web, beautiful but easily broken. She realized how deeply she had tied herself to Coriolanus, more than she ever would have allowed before. It was no longer just about the election or power; it was about him. About them. She couldn't stand the idea of losing him.

Sable took a deep breath, steadying herself as she focused on Seline. “You’re gonna' make a beautiful bride,” she assured her sister, forcing a smile despite the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind.

But as Seline beamed back at her, Sable couldn’t shake the feeling that they were both teetering on the edge of something dangerous—an abyss they couldn’t fully comprehend. And for the first time, she questioned whether she had the strength to follow through with the darkness that awaited them.

Coriolanus stood outside the Hanover residence, the evening air thick with anticipation and the scent of freshly cut grass. He shifted slightly, his gaze scanning the elegant façade of the house, where the sconce lights shimmered like stars against the twilight. Beside him, Garrison paced like a caged animal, his frustration palpable.

“This is a waste of time, Coriolanus,” Garrison muttered, running a hand through his hair, a gesture of exasperation. “We may as well be attending a circus. The moment we walk in there -- I suspect the lot of them are gonna' laugh us out of there.”

Coriolanus, however, remained unnervingly calm, a flicker of hope igniting within him. He had spent too long buried in despair and self-doubt; tonight felt different. The promise of a future—one where he could emerge as president, where his connection with Sable could solidify—hung tantalizingly in the air. He glanced at Garrison, whose anxious energy contrasted sharply with his own newfound resolve.

“You worry too much, Garrison,” Coriolanus replied, his tone steady, masking the undercurrents of excitement that thrummed beneath his calm exterior. “We just have to keep our chins up. Stranger things could happen,”

Garrison shot him a skeptical look, but Coriolanus met it with a determined gaze. The stakes were high, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of control over his destiny. He imagined the gala unfolding, the chaos that would ensue, and the way he would step into the light as the victor. More than that, he pictured Sable by his side, their connection a powerful force against the world that sought to tear them apart.

As the minutes ticked by, anticipation coursed through him, mingling with the adrenaline of their plan. He felt ready to face whatever awaited them, even as Garrison’s impatience gnawed at the edges of their moment. Tonight, everything would change.

The front doors of the Hanover residence swung open and Sable stepped out, and the world around Coriolanus seemed to fade away. She was adorned in a long, fitted red satin gown that hugged her figure flawlessly, the fabric shimmering like liquid fire under the glow of the gala lights. The gown cascaded into a slight train, and a large bow sat elegantly at the back, a striking accent that added a touch of old Hollywood glamour to her already radiant presence.

Coriolanus felt his breath hitch in his throat, his heart racing at the sight of her. She was the epitome of class and sophistication, a vision that seemed almost ethereal against the backdrop of the evening. Every inch of her exuded confidence and allure, and he struggled to compose himself, forcing his jaw to remain closed as he stared in awe.

Sable's short, tousled curls added a playful touch to her pixie cut, and her makeup was flawless, accentuating her eyes and highlighting her smile. In that moment, she looked like a winner, a force of nature capable of capturing any room's attention—and she had captured his completely.

Garrison's impatient voice broke through his reverie, but Coriolanus barely registered it. All he could focus on was Sable as she glided toward them, her expression a blend of determination and excitement. He could feel the electricity crackling between them, the shared knowledge of their plans lending an intensity to the moment.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Sable said, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she reached them.

Coriolanus finally found his voice, a low murmur escaping him, “You look stunning.”

She paused for a brief moment, her eyes meeting his with a fierce intensity. In that moment, he felt a inexplicable pull towards her, as if their souls were entwined in a mutual understanding of the challenges that lay ahead. He couldn't tear his gaze away from hers, drawn to the depths of emotion and determination he saw within them.

“Are we ready?” Garrison cut in, his tone disgruntled and grumbling as always. “To add insult to injury—we're already late,” he pointed out, his voice tinged with exasperation as he adjusted his cufflinks, clearly irritated by the time wasted.

Coriolanus turned to Garrison, a smile pulling at his lips. “If it's all the same to you, Garrison, I'd actually like to enjoy my evening,” he replied, his voice steady, betraying none of the tension that danced just beneath the surface. “Besides, 'fashionably late' has never been a crime”

Garrison rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a slight smirk at Coriolanus's confidence. “Just don’t let your charm get us into more trouble than we’re already in,” he warned, crossing his arms as he stomped towards the car.

Sable, caught in the moment between the two men, felt a thrill run through her. She met Coriolanus’s gaze, a shared understanding passing between them—this night held more than just political stakes; it was the culmination of everything they had fought for, together. The tension of their scheme lay heavy in the air, but so did the promise of their future together.

Coriolanus extended his arm to Sable, a subtle gesture filled with warmth and protection. She took it with a smile, her fingers curling around his elbow as they walked toward the sleek town car waiting at the curb. The evening air was cool, but it felt charged with potential, the excitement of the gala pulsing just beneath the surface.

As the car glided through the streets toward the gala, Coriolanus leaned in slightly, whispering to Sable, “No matter what happens tonight, we’re in this together.” Her heart raced as she felt his fingers lock with hers, a silent assurance amidst the chaos.

She nodded, a fire igniting in her eyes. “Together.”

The gala hall was immaculate, draped in opulent gold and deep crimson, the lavish decorations reflecting the grandeur of the occasion. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting a warm glow over the elegantly dressed guests as they mingled, laughter and music intertwining in the air. The soft strains of a string quartet floated through the room, inviting couples to the dance floor where the rhythm of the evening unfolded.

At the head table, the candidates sat in a line, flanked by their plus ones, exchanging pleasantries and well-wishes. It was a carefully orchestrated affair, where smiles masked the underlying tension, particularly for Sable and Coriolanus. As they settled into their seats, the weight of their plan loomed between them, a shared secret that thrummed beneath the surface of their smiles.

Sable’s heart raced, not just from the grandeur surrounding her, but from the anxiety that curled in her stomach. She fidgeted with the hem of her gown, her mind racing as she calculated the perfect moment to execute their plan. Coriolanus, sensing her unease, leaned closer, his voice low and reassuring. “Sable, breathe. We’ll find our moment.”

She nodded, trying to focus on the warmth of his presence rather than the growing crowd. “I'm alright,” she assured, her gaze flickering over the other candidates, their false camaraderie a stark contrast to the reality of their intentions.

Coriolanus studied her for a moment, then offered a gentle smile. “Let’s take a moment for ourselves,” he said, extending his hand toward her. “Dance with me?”

Sable hesitated, her mind still tangled in their scheme. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw a flicker of confidence—a reminder of the bond they shared. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand in his, feeling the warmth spread through her as he led her to the dance floor.

As they swayed to the music, the world around them faded slightly. Coriolanus held her close, guiding her with a practiced ease. “You look breathtaking tonight,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, and Sable felt her heart flutter despite the heaviness of their plan.

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice barely above the music.

Sable felt the weight of their unspoken agreement—their lives intertwined not just by their ambitions but by the choices they were about to make. With each turn, she felt her nerves settle slightly, the rhythm of the dance grounding her in the moment. She could feel Coriolanus’s confidence seep into her, and for a brief moment, the chaos outside melted away.

As they danced, she instinctively tightened her grip on Coriolanus, her fingers entwining in the fabric of his suit as if anchoring herself to him amidst the swirling chaos of the gala. He could feel the tremor in her hold, the way her body betrayed her with a slight tremble, and it struck him as curious—this was her plan, the very scheme they had concocted together. Yet, in that moment, he could sense the weight of her worry pressing down on her, illuminating the depths of her adoration. Her eyes flickered with an intensity that spoke of both fear and affection, revealing how deeply she cared for him, as if she were trying to shield him from the very fate they were orchestrating for others. The realization sent a rush of warmth through him; even as they plotted a path drenched in darkness, the light of her concern wrapped around him, anchoring him amidst the impending storm.

But as the music swelled, Sable knew that their window was closing. They would need to act soon. As they spun under the shimmering lights, she felt the tension of their mission blending with the electric thrill of their connection, her heart pounding not only for what lay ahead but for the man who held her close.

Eldridge Barbery stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, his gaze fixated on the dancing couple, an unsettling grin tugging at the corners of his lips. The opulence of the gala faded into the background as he observed Coriolanus and Sable, their intimacy betraying the weight of the impending disaster. There was something predatory in his demeanor, a hawk surveying its prey. Barbery reveled in the thrill of the moment, the delicious satisfaction of having humiliated Coriolanus in the debate that still echoed through the minds of the guests. He could almost taste victory, the polls tilting in his favor like a pendulum swinging with the certainty of fate. The glint in his eye spoke volumes—he believed the election was already his, and he would enjoy watching Coriolanus squirm as he held the fate of his rival in his hands. The gala, a final act of desperation for Coriolanus, only solidified Barbery's conviction that he had the upper hand, and he couldn't wait to bask in the glory of his impending triumph.

As Sable scanned the room, her heart raced when she spotted the perfect moment—the candidates were momentarily distracted by laughter and animated conversation, the wine bottles within reach. She felt a surge of adrenaline, but it was quickly overshadowed by an unsettling anxiety that twisted in her stomach. Coriolanus, ever attuned to her emotions, noticed her tension and leaned closer, his voice a soothing murmur amid the clinking glasses and soft music.

“Sable,” he said, his gaze steady and reassuring, “if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to,"

She met his gaze, almost surprised at his offer, "What?" 

He took a deep breath, "I... How I feel for you won’t change. This is a heavy burden to bear.”

His words lingered in the air, grounding her for a fleeting moment. She met his eyes, searching for reassurance, and felt the weight of the decision pressing down on her. What they were about to do was irreversible, a line drawn in the sand that once crossed would alter the course of their lives forever. For a heartbeat, she considered stepping back, but the image of their enemies looming over them, of all their plans unraveling, flickered in her mind. They had come too far to turn back now.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, resolve hardening in her chest. “No. We’ve committed to this, Corio. We're too close, now.” 

Coriolanus watched Sable's eyes, a mix of determination and doubt swirling within them. He reached out to gently clasp her hand, his touch grounding her amidst the chaos of the room. The weight of their mission bore down on them, the significance of their actions palpable in the charged air between them.

“I’m here, Sable,” Coriolanus murmured, his voice unwavering. “Nobody is watching, nobody will know,”

Sable felt her worry surge, his unwavering support giving her the strengthening yet furthering her unease. She squeezed his hand in return.

“I'm not worried about anyone else,” she declared softly, her voice carrying a steely resolve that belied the uncertainty still lingering in her heart. “We will see this through together, come what may.”

With a final shared glance that spoke volumes, she moved toward the wine bottles, determination fueling her actions as she prepared to set their plan into motion.

With her heart pounding in her chest, Sable discreetly retrieved the vial of poison from the hidden fold of her dress. The sleek glass glinted under the opulent chandeliers, but she kept her movements fluid, her expression calm. She carefully positioned herself next to the wine bottles, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she uncapped the vial.

One by one, she poured a measured amount of the viscous liquid into each bottle, her mind racing with the gravity of what she was doing. The thick poison swirled and blended with the ruby-red wine, a sinister contrast that seemed to mock her resolve. She left no room for error, ensuring that each bottle contained the deadly concoction, knowing that this was their one shot at securing a future free from their enemies.

As she worked, her eyes flicked toward Coriolanus, who remained engaged in conversation with a fellow candidate, his charm and charisma on full display. It reassured her, even as the reality of their plan settled heavily on her shoulders. This was it—the moment they had prepared for. With a final glance around to ensure no one was watching, Sable slipped the empty vial back into the folds of her dress, a sense of urgency propelling her back toward Coriolanus. She needed him by her side, to share in the weight of their actions as they moved forward into the chaos they had orchestrated.

The guests found their seats, laughter and chatter filling the air, but beneath the surface, a current of unease rippled through the candidates and their supporters.

Coriolanus took his place at the head table, flanked by Sable, the weight of the evening resting heavily on his shoulders. He glanced around, spotting Eldridge Barbery seated just a few chairs down, his presence as smug as ever. To Coriolanus’s dismay, the seating arrangement had paired him directly next to his rival, an unexpected turn that set his teeth on edge.

As the head judge from the Supreme Court rose to address the crowd, a hush fell over the room. The judge’s voice resonated with authority, exuding confidence as he raised his glass high. “Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed candidates, and distinguished guests,” he began, his tone steady and commanding. “Tonight, we gather not just to celebrate your accomplishments but to honor the democratic process that binds us. May this election bring forth leaders who will serve our community with integrity and vision.”

With every word, Coriolanus felt the tension rise within him, his thoughts racing. He could feel Barbery’s gaze lingering on him, a predatory gleam in his eyes as if he savored the opportunity to gloat. The judge continued, “Let us toast to your success in the upcoming election—may it be fair, just, and a true reflection of the will of the people.” Glasses clinked throughout the room, the sound mingling with murmurs of support and whispered calculations.

Coriolanus raised his glass, but his thoughts were not on the toast; they were on the deadly wine that had already been poured, their plan spiraling closer to fruition with each passing moment. As he turned slightly, he caught Barbery’s gaze, and an unspoken challenge passed between them, igniting the competitive spirit that had fueled their rivalry from the very beginning. 

"May the odds be ever in your favour, Mr. Snow," Eldridge grinned smugly.

"As with you, Mr. Barbery," Coriolanus replied with a tight smile, his mind already racing with the weight of their plan. He paused, glancing at Sable out of the corner of his eye. Her demeanor was deceptively calm, an impeccable mask hiding the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. She seemed focused, her eyes steady on him, yet he could sense the tension threading through her.

Under the table, their hands intertwined, a small gesture that tethered him to her amidst the growing uncertainty. The warmth of her grip grounded him, reminding him of their bond, the dark path they had chosen together. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the rich scents of the gala—fine wines, blooming flowers, and a hint of something more foreboding.

With one final breath, he raised the glass to his lips, the polished surface glinting under the soft candlelight. Time seemed to stretch as he brought the glass closer, his heart pounding in his chest. The moment felt monumental, a crossing of thresholds that would alter the course of their lives. He met Sable's gaze one last time, seeking reassurance in her eyes, and then drank.

The wine slid down smoothly, the taste rich and dark. For a heartbeat, nothing felt different. But as he set the glass down, a slight chill crept through him, a whisper of foreboding that something had shifted irrevocably. He could feel the tension in Sable’s grip tightening as if they were both holding their breath, bracing for the inevitable storm to break.

For a moment, everything was quiet...

And then...

Senator Hawthorne gagged and heaved, and the air in the room thickened with shock and horror. His face twisted in disbelief as he clutched his throat, staggering backward before collapsing to the ground. Gasps erupted from the guests, confusion rippling through the crowd like a shockwave. Coriolanus's heart raced, a primal instinct urging him to jump to his feet, but his body betrayed him with a sudden wave of nausea.

Around him, the other candidates began to crumble. One by one, they fell, their bodies twitching and convulsing as if the very essence of life was being siphoned away. The opulent gala transformed into a scene of chaos, music grinding to a halt as people scrambled for safety, their screams puncturing the once-celebratory atmosphere.

Coriolanus felt a tightening in his chest, the cold fingers of panic wrapping around his heart. He swayed slightly, the world tilting as the symptoms surged through him—dizziness, a burning in his throat, the creeping sensation of helplessness. He turned his head slightly, locking eyes with Sable, and the concern in her gaze struck him like a jolt of electricity.

Her fear was palpable, genuine, cutting through the haze of chaos. Her face a mask of distress, and he could see the flicker of distress behind her eyes. For a moment, it was as if time slowed; he was acutely aware of the chaos surrounding them, the frantic energy of the gala guests who rushed to help the fallen candidates or flee in terror. But all he could focus on was Sable.

“Coriolanus!” she cried, her voice cracking as she reached for him.

A tremor rippled through him as he struggled to maintain his composure. “I’m—” he began, but the words fell away as another wave of nausea crashed over him, and he felt himself begin to falter. The world spun, and he could hear the distant echoes of shouting, but it all felt muffled, as if he were submerged in water.

He stumbled, leaning against the table for support, and he could see Barbery’s lifeless body slumped in his chair, the smug grin wiped from his face forever before Coriolanus crumpled to the floor. Panic ignited in the room, people scrambling and shouting, and Coriolanus realized the true weight of their plan—the darkness had not only enveloped their enemies but threatened to consume him as well.

“Stay with me,” Sable urged, her hand gripping his tightly, anchoring him in the chaos. “Stay with me."

Panic surged through Sable as she fumbled with the antidote tucked into her dress. Her hands trembled, the vial slipping from her grasp and rolling away across the polished floor, a small, glimmering promise of salvation in a sea of chaos. Time seemed to stretch as she watched it skitter away, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum echoing the frantic cries of the guests around her.

“Shit!” she hissed, her voice breaking as she lunged forward, desperate to retrieve it. Just as it rolled under the table, she dove for it, snatching it up just in time. Relief flooded through her, but it was quickly overshadowed by the urgency of the moment. Medical personnel were rushing in, the air thick with tension and confusion, but she couldn’t wait for help.

She rushed back to Coriolanus, who was struggling to stay upright, his face pale and drenched in sweat. “Open your mouth!” she commanded, her heart racing as she forced his lips apart, desperation clawing at her insides.

With shaking hands, she tipped the vial, pouring the antidote into his mouth. “Swallow!” she urged, her voice fierce with determination, even as tears of fear threatened to spill from her eyes. She watched as he struggled for breath, the life in his gaze flickering like a candle in the wind.

Coriolanus coughed, the bitter liquid spilling over his lips, but she pressed on, encouraging him to swallow every drop. “Please, you have to fight,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she cradled his face in her hands, their eyes locked in an intense battle against the encroaching darkness.

Around them, the gala was chaos, but in that moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. She could feel the warmth of his skin under her fingers, the strength that still lingered beneath the surface, and she held onto that hope as tightly as she could.

As he swallowed the last of the antidote, a faint spark ignited in his eyes, and she breathed a shaky sigh of relief. “Just hold on, Corio. You’re going to be okay,” she vowed, the conviction in her voice stronger than the fear that threatened to engulf them both.

Garrison fought his way through the throng, the press of bodies and rising panic creating an almost suffocating barrier. Each step felt like wading through thick mud, but adrenaline propelled him forward, desperation fueling his movements. As he broke free from the crowd, his heart dropped at the sight that met him.

Coriolanus lay sprawled on the floor, his pallor stark against the gleaming marble, and Sable knelt beside him, her hands trembling as they cradled his head. Garrison’s breath caught in his throat, beads of sweat trickling down his brow as horror coursed through him like ice. The night had spiraled into chaos, a sickening twist of fate that had turned what should have been a triumphant evening into a scene of despair.

He stood over them, feeling the weight of the moment press down on his chest. The echoes of laughter and music from earlier felt like distant ghosts, haunting reminders of a celebration now transformed into a nightmare. Garrison's eyes flickered between Sable's anguished expression and Coriolanus's still form, a wave of disbelief crashing over him.

As the chaos of the gala erupted around them, Philip, Eleanor, and Seline rushed through the crowd, propelled by a mix of urgency and dread. The festive atmosphere had turned into a scene of panic, with guests shouting and scrambling for help. Their hearts raced as they pushed past the clusters of stunned attendees, guided by the instinctive need to find the youngest Hanover.

When they finally reached her, the sight that greeted them was nothing short of heart-wrenching. Sable knelt beside Coriolanus, cradling his head in her lap, her fingers trembling as they brushed through his hair, desperate to anchor him to her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, glistening like shards of glass against the opulence of the gala. The once vibrant red of her gown was now marred by the gravity of the moment, a stark contrast to the jubilation that had filled the room only moments before.

Philip’s breath hitched at the sight, his instincts screaming at him to protect his daughter, while Eleanor’s expression morphed from shock to profound concern, the weight of the situation pressing down on her chest. Seline’s heart raced, recognizing the telltale signs of Sable’s despair etched into her sister’s features. The way Sable’s shoulders shook, the way her gaze flickered from Coriolanus to the world around them, it was clear that she was adrift in a sea of anguish.

Each heartbeat felt like an eternity as Seline stepped closer, the frantic noise of the gala fading into a distant murmur. She could feel the heaviness in the air, a palpable tension that told her all was not well. The look in Sable’s eyes—haunted and glassy—spoke volumes of a turmoil that neither Philip nor Eleanor could comprehend. In that moment, as the trio stood frozen, they became mere shadows to Sable’s anguish, uncertain of what had transpired, but fully aware that something had irrevocably changed.

[cheapsweets]

The stately Raggfong

My response to this week's BestiaryPosting challenge, from @maniculum

Once more, I ask you to consider, are birds jerks? The authors of medieval bestiaries seem to think, yes, they are!*

Initial pencil sketch for the proportions, then Sailor fude nib fountain pen for the inking, with Rohrer & Klingner Sepia ink, on A5 paper (90gsm).

I'd already determined that for the next bird that came up, I wanted to try putting more detail on the feathers; unfortunately I fear this may have gotten in the way a little, as it makes it more difficult to see the chicks the Raggfong is holding in each of it's claws. Hopefully what I was trying to achieve comes across enough! :D

*except for coots; coots, apparently, are awesome.

Reasoning below the cut, as per usual...

"The Raggfong is so called because of the sharpness of its eyes, for it is said to be of such keen vision that it glides above the sea on unmoving wings, out of human sight, yet from such a height sees small fish swimming below and, swooping down like a missile thrown from a siege engine, it seizes its prey on the wing and carries it to land."

- That's quite some description already! My first thought was of some kind of dragon, soaring high above the seas, except that a) we've already had a dragon, and b) the description later states that we're talking about a bird. I tried to make its eye nice and big, to represent it's sharp vision, and we have the suggestion of waves down below (and a very worried looking medieval fishie...!).

"When the Raggfong grows old, however, its wings grow heavy, and its eyes grow dim. Then it seeks out a spring and, turning away from it, flies up into the atmosphere of the sun; there it sets its wings alight and, likewise, burns off the dimness in its eyes in the sun’s rays. Descending at length, it immerses itself in the spring three times; immediately it is restored to the full strength of its wings, the former brightness of its eyes." - This is all cool, but I couldn't work out how best to represent this without detracting from what else I wanted to do with it.

"It is also said of the Raggfong that it exposes its young to the sun’s rays, holding them in its claws in mid-air. If any of them, struck by the light beating down from the sun, maintains a fearless gaze without damaging its sight, this is taken as proof that it has shown itself true to its nature. But if the young bird turns its eyes away from the rays, it is rejected as unworthy of its kind and of such a father and, being unworthy of being begotten, it is considered unworthy of being reared."

- The Raggfong definitely seems to be an ocean bird; it doesn't read like a hawk, which confused me a bit at first, since how is it grabbing things (including its chicks) with webbed feet? However, after a little research I found that some waterbirds (including coots!) have lobate feet; lobes of skin on either side of the toes that expand when it swims, but probably wouldn't get in the way when it held things. I wasn't able to include enough detail to show this, but cool fact nontheless.

The legs were based on an osprey (just in terms of managing to hold something within its claws), and the general body shape and wings on a cormorant (mostly because I could find reasonably good references!)

We can see the Raggfong holding up two of its chicks, one in each claw; the one on the left of the picture stares defiantly at the sun (I'm not convinced this will help its keen vision...), but the one on the right of the picture is more sensible and is looking away... :(

"The Raggfong condemns it not in a harsh manner but with the honesty of a judge."

- Birds. Are. Jerks. :p

"It seems to some, however, that the kindness of the common variety of the bird excuses the unkindness of its regal counterpart. The ordinary bird is called [redacted], coot; in Greek, [redacted]. Taking up the young Raggfong, abandoned or unacknowledged, the coot adds it to its brood, making it one of the family, with the same maternal devotion as it shows to its own young, and feeds and nourishes the young Raggfong and its own brood with equal attention."

- The description of the Raggfong as 'regal' informed how I approached the head. I wanted to make it at least a little fancy, and considered a variety of options (including long, flowy eyebrows - and even a lyrebird/bird of paradise inspired tail before realising that would decidedly get in the way of catching fish) before I settled on a grebe-inspired crest, loosely resembling a crown.

Now coots, I know what they look like! In the bottom right we see a parent coot with three of its babies, as well as a young Raggfong it adopted. Its nice to know that some of these bestiary entries have a happy ending!

As an aside, I haven't managed to capture exactly how scrungly baby coots look; they are absolutely delightful! :D

[1dont-really-know]

Malva and Altair brainrot is real

@kitwasnothere

°•°•°•°

“Hey, Mallow?”

“Yes, Sunflower?”

Mallow’s fingers pause, still weaved in the half fae’s hair. He admires the soft way she braided the flowers there, brightly colored yet wonderfully pleasing against the sunshine-blond of his hair.

The half-fae takes a nice, deep breath, trying to calm his frayed nerves. The scent of spring flowers invades his senses, making his nose tingle, but he welcomes it regardless. Beside him, his friend tilts her head, curiosity in her gaze as she waits for him to speak.

To a human, this would've been done the day they met each other, but neither of them were human. No, Mallow was a faerie, which meant what he was about to do makes him extremely vulnerable and exposed. Inside his mind, two factors clash; the human part that warns him of danger, and the fae part that demands he show this vulnerability to the friend he held dearest to his heart.

“You… your birthday is coming up soon, right?” He finally says, forcing a cheerful lilt into his voice. He knows Mallow can see past it, though. She always seems to.

Mallow narrows her eyes at him. Out of the periphery of his vision, he could see her tail twitch slightly, a sign of suspicion. “Yes, it is. I will soon turn sixty three. Why do you ask?”

“Your birthday is the same as the Second Princess’s, right?”

Wait, she told him this already! Now she's gonna think that he wasn't listening! How is he so stupid?!

“Well, I wanted to give you a- an early gift.” Did he seriously stutter? Stupid.

On the bright side, Mallow straightens up, her tail now swishing in barely contained excitement. “A gift?” She chirps questioningly, the silent question of ‘what is it?’ undeniable in her tone. It's endearing, really. No matter how much she tries to maintain her ‘cool, calm, regal’ persona, she's always so exciteable when you know what she likes. In this case, presents.

Alright, deep breaths. One two three, three two one. Okay. “My name. I want to tell you my true name.”

Mallow seems genuinely shocked hearing his words. The swishing of her tail stops, and she stares at him wide-eyed. “Are you sure about this, Sunflower?” The caution in which she says those words with doesn't suit her. “You're half human. You're magically weak. You don't know what I'll do with your name once I know it.”

Okay, yeah, that comment about his magical abilities was uncalled for, but she did have a point.

The half fae nods, “I'm sure. I want to,” his voice shook slightly, a sudden thought invading his mind, “unless, of course, you don't want to know?”

Ah, there it was. The amused glimmer in her eyes returned, and she settles back against his side, continuing to braid flowers into his hair, “only if you'll let me tell you my true name afterwards. Then we'll be even.”

Fair enough.

Close your eyes, calm your nerves, take deep breaths. Mama said it would be okay, so it would be.

“Altair.”

“Huh?”

“That's my true name. Altair.”

“It's a very pretty name.”

Altair looks towards Mallow incredulously. That was it? No trying to take his name? No using it to insult him? Huh. He guesses they really were friends then.

“Then… can you say it? My name?”

“That's an odd request, but sure. You're an odd one, Altair.”

It's… nice. Odd, but nice. He knew she didn't think any lesser of him when she found out he wasn't fully fae, but this is a nice reminder.

“Then what's your name?” The tension in his shoulders disappear, and Altair lets himself lean against Mallow– or he supposes he's about to learn her real name–’s shoulder. Maybe they should take turns and then he can decorate her horns and hair with flowers. She'd look even more pretty then.

“Malva.” She says casually, taking another daisy from the pile of flowers and starting to braid it onto Altair’s hair. “My real name’s Malva.”

“Oh? My nickname for you is fitting! Y'know, since Malva’s another name for Mal–”

Wait.

Big, scaly tail; horns; vibrant green eyes; very strong magic that's strong enough to set half the forest on fire…

“You're the Second Princess?!”

Malva has the audacity to look amused at his shrieked accusation.

“How did it take you so long to connect the dots?”

[usagimen]

                                               @dweomerr   : 🌿🍒  from lei !!!

                    The gardens remain the same, she envisioned it plenty of times, the wisteria tree that droplets a curtain of violet. A never ending sea of flora, the very air is stained with the smell of roses, frostbitten - they won’t return till the sun begins to arise. Friends, the Kobayashi family always coos, the more alliances the better. She knew it to be deception, a clever ploy concocted in haste, sugar is easier to swallow than the very poison they would feed their enemies. Beauteous figures that could not be true, a figment of the confine of one’s wildest dreams, in garments of yellow && hues of red, they move in synch entertaining the likes. Nobles would never know the true intent of their kind smiles && coy remarks, to dig deep within the cavern of their hearts, then eat the appendage without a shred of mercy. The petite ghost moves, creeping through the lacquered halls of stain glass, a goblet in hand as her nose wrinkles. “How many times have you been whisked away to dance?” she inquires, back straight, shoulders at ease - regal, poised to strike if she must. A plethora of plenty, never to want or desire, lest it be forbidden she would sarcastically remark. There was no lyre within her hand, neither lute, violin, or any other beloved instrument that caused her to sing with utmost joy. Hands that rest upon the hem of velvet black, abyssal as it glimmers in a sea of silver, humanly in facade she finds it odd.

           Though, their blood beloved in posing as nothing more than waif-like beings, slender && graceful, who danced or clapped to the rhythm of the music each bard would entertain. She wondered how they would tire one day, stripping away this false sense of humanity, but another mask to be worn, a persona to adorn, lest the public understand there was nothing more precious to an assassin than secrecy. “Nothing truly changes, long before I left the city, it remained the same - none were the wiser to who we are, what we become, or what love dwells within our hearts. That was our strength but, perhaps I am becoming too soft in my passage of time, or this wiggler in our minds is starting to make me sentimental” she smirks, half hazard, lazy && cat-like. She wants to believe it is the wine that sparks a fire within her stomach, the clambering of laughter && hands that move together, it’s melancholic in her mind. A dreadfully dull bard, she thinks, always mournful.

           “You should visit again when the Spring arrives, the gardens are far more beautiful” an abundance of life that she wonders would be possible to see? The unwinding journey that bestows them with hardship is full of uncertainty, yet, made her fearless amongst a den of vipers where she once trembled. There’s a pause as she leans against the entrance, sudden whispers && sharp grins, then, her eyes direct upwards - a snicker escaping. “Oh, now that’s clever” sing-song in her voice, she suddenly reaches forth, taking the other’s hand into her own. “Excuse me, love, this will only be a second” it comes quickly, a gust of electricity that smells like orange blossoms, vanilla && molten sugar. Crimson, a lady that twirls in the decadence of pastels cloaks herself in night amongst wolves. There, a flash of infernal green, was it her sharp fangs && claws that show? Peaking behind the illusion of flesh she giggles into the kiss before pulling away. Though, her grasp never lets go, “My dear ~” saccharine sweet, Nightingale coos delightfully. Her hand twirls to motion a circular movement, spin, she urges. 

                                    “Come, you’ll be my dance partner && I am unwilling to share! Don’t fret, I’ll try to go easy on you”  

// yule festivities! (accepting.)

[justminawrites]

Five Days of Fire Flowers - Chapter 1: Red Oni, Blue Oni

AO3

Summary: The spring of love has finally begun blooming in Inazuma, but longtime friends and rivals, Arataki "The One and Oni" Itto and the town's sweetheart, Naganohara Yoimiya, seem to be the only ones who think nothing of the change. After all, those umeboshi competitions, near-death encounters, and complicated silences they've been sharing more and more often, don't really mean anything.. do they?

1 | TBC

“And then I sent the jerk flying– right down into the dirt!”

“Woah! That’s amazing!”

“But Mister Itto– didn’t it hurt?”

“Ha ha! A little pain isn’t going to stop someone like me, y’see, I’m The Pride of all Oni kind!”

“You’re so cool!”

Arataki Itto puffed out his chest at the compliment and flashed a toothy grin at the kids that flocked to him eagerly. 

They were sitting right outside the shrine of Inazuma City, near the grassy plains with the cherry-blossom trees in full bloom, safely away from the watchful eyes of the Tenryou Commission. 

Itto had challenged a certain fireworks expert to a duel to win the hearts of Inazuma’s children and the spunky blonde had picked Storytelling to be their weapon of choice this time. Whosoever told the best tale was considered the winner.

He regaled them with his latest adventures fighting a group of bandits by Musuo Blade Canyon, sure of his victory; there was no way Yoimiya could beat him when it came to exciting encounters, she may stir them with her little sparklers or whatever, but he had the grit and scars to show for his various battles with opponents far stronger and more renowned than he. And it seemed to be working, at first.

The three little ones, Matsuzaka, Iwao and sweet Saika, looked absolutely enthralled by his tale, their earlier fears forgotten as they ran their tiny fingers over his mace and Itto turned his smirk on the blonde perched on the bough of a nearby tree, swinging her feet and awaiting her turn. 

The Naganohara heir met his smile with a wicked one of her own and jumped down from her place, dusting off her orange kimono as she did.

“Won’t hold it against ‘cha if ya just admit defeat now, Sparkie,” he grinned as she passed him, 

“No shame in losing to someone more superior, after all.”

“Appreciate the offer,” Yoimiya said wryly as she resumed seat on a large stone opposite to him, “–but I wouldn’t be so quick to count my chickens yet, Arataki-san.”

“You haven’t even heard my story yet!”

“Yoimiya’s telling us a story!” Iwao gasped, immediately looking up.

“Yoimiya’s stories are the best!”

“Which one is it going to be this time? The Fire Diamond again?” Saika asked excitedly, turning to her friends.

Itto tried not to huff in irritation as the kids abandoned him to huddle under Yoimiya’s rock expectantly; whatever it was, it couldn’t be as good as single-handedly taking on a group of electro Kairagi warriors to protect a village. 

“No, today’s special,” she began, crossing her legs, “So I’ve got a new one for you. It’s called Red Oni, Blue Oni.”

The children collectively turned back to give him a surprised look. Itto felt a strange sense of deja-vu pass over him and found himself refusing to meet their eyes. He knew the story of course, it was one of the very first stories he’d learned growing up.

“Oni? Like Mister-Itto?”

“Nope,” Yoimiya winked, “These were very different oni. They used to live in the mountains of Liyue, far, far away from Inazuma, back when the Archons first roamed Teyvat.”

“Oh..”

“Once upon a time, almost 2000 years ago, two oni friends lived in a cave, high up in the mountains above a small human settlement. One had red skin, the colour of Dendrobium flowers, and the other blue, like the sky.”

The children leaned in close, already invested. 

“The Red Oni really wanted to befriend his neighbours, so he tried his best to accommodate them; he laid out sweets they liked, invited them to his cave, even tried to help them with their things a few times, but they all ran away screaming when they saw his face.” 

Itto couldn’t help but get swept up into the story too as Yoimiya began gesturing animatedly, using her hands to describe what was going on.

“The humans were all very terrified of the two friends, you see, it was a time of great strife among their community and they didn’t trust each other, much less the oni who looked very different from them; so they would curse or throw beans at him if he got too close to the village.”

“That’s not fair!” Matsuzaka cried outraged, leaping to his feet, “They shouldn’t be mean just because of something stupid like that!”

The other two nodded sternly.

“Ah, ah,” the storyteller wagged her finger in his direction and shook her head, “Remember how you all were afraid of Mister Itto when he first came to Inazuma?” 

“You thought he was the Great Mujina Yokai, here to steal you away from your homes, didn’t you?”

Itto snorted and the children flushed guiltily; Matsuzaka sat back down without protest.

“Fear makes people do stupid things,” Yoimiya continued kindly, jumping back into the story, “–and the Red Oni knew this, so he would never hold it against them when they rejected his friendship. But he never gave up trying to win them over either.”

“One day, the Blue Oni had just about enough of watching his friend get constantly rejected and devised a plan to help him gain the humans’ trust. I’ll pretend to attack the village, he said, and you stop me. The Blue Oni knew that humans loved heroes more than they feared them, and smartly decided to take advantage of this for his friend’s benefit.”

“A terrible plan if you ask me–“ Itto interrupted, snarling, he knew how the rest of the story went and couldn’t help himself but the kids shushed him immediately.

“So they executed the plan, and it worked!” She didn’t falter, much to their delight.

“The Blue Oni stomped his way into the town and began burning down a few houses, taking care not to hurt any of the people on the way, of course. The Red Oni pretended to intervene and chase his friend all the way back up the mountain, finally earning the approval of the humans. Once he returned, they brought him into their homes and celebrated his victory by feeding him and bringing him gifts to show their thanks, eagerly accepting his invitations to come over as soon as possible! In fact, the Red Oni became so popular that even other villages heard of his brave exploits and humans journeyed all the way to the mountain just to meet him!”

Itto furrowed his brows; this version was a little different from what he’d grown up hearing. Yoimiya caught his eye and winked, as if they shared some kind of secret.

“That’s great!”

“Good for him!”

“But wait– what happened to the Blue Oni?” Saika asked suddenly, looking up at the storyteller. 

“Excellent question!” Yoimiya replied cheerily, not missing a beat, “Well since the Red Oni had so many friends coming over he moved into a new cave, with a super secret entrance that only a few people knew about. He wasn’t as fond of humans as his friend, preferring to sit inside and read instead, so he spent the rest of his days like that, happy to see that the Red Oni was happy too.”

“But they still stayed friends?” Saika pressed, leaning forward. 

��Forever and ever!” She affirmed, soothing the little girl’s troubled expression by adding, “They never stopped being friends, no matter what! The End!”

“Now– time for the results! Whose story was better?”

The children turned each other excitedly, ready to discuss the stories and give their final verdict.

“Hey, wait a minute!“ Itto interrupted again, now he was sure there must be some kind of mistake.

“That’s not how it MMPFH–“

Yoimiya was on him immediately, covering his mouth with her hands to stop him from saying anymore. He nearly toppled over with surprise at her action, but caught himself just in time, regaining his balance just long enough to hear her whisper-shout Don’t into his ear. He met her alarmed eyes with borderline confusion that steadily bled into understanding.

Iwao, Saika and Matsuzaka gave them a weird look but didn’t think much of it, more invested in debating the victor instead. After a few tense seconds, during which she still refused to take her hands off his face, the children came to a decision.

“Yoimiya won this round,” Iwao declared seriously, the other two nodding alongside him, “Mister-Itto’s story was good too but hers was a little bit better.”

“MMPFH!” The half-oni pleaded his case, but his captor beamed a brilliant white smile and mercilessly shooed them away. 

“Well, now that’s settled, you children better be heading back to your parents. It’s getting dark and you don't want to miss the fireworks show, do you?”

The children exchanged a startled glance and looked up to see the red sun setting into the horizon.

“Buh-bye, Mister-Itto! Bye, Yoimiya!”

As the three waved their goodbyes and ran home, Itto shot a sideways glance at Yoimiya, who waved back happily, completely unaware that her other hand was dangerously close to his demon-teeth. 

“Precious little things aren’t they?” She smiled, watching Saika’s head disappear past the green outcropping. 

Itto pretended to bite her arm, playfully nipping at the edge of her fingers with his fangs and she yelped and jumped backwards, more out of shock than pain. 

“Don’t be such a sore loser, Arataki-san!”

“Yeah, yeah. Ya got me today Sparkie, but it won’t be so easy next time.”

“You say that every time, and still haven’t managed to beat me once,” Yoimiya stuck out her tongue but he frowned in return, his mind still on the story.

“Why’d ya lie to ‘em anyway?” He asked, uncharacteristically serious for once, “It doesn’t end like that, y’know.” 

“Is it really lying if I just happen to forget a few small details here and there?” She joked, still bouncing on the balls of her feet, but slowed down a little when he looked away, his arm subconsciously tightening on the hilt of his mace.

“Arataki-san? Is everything alright?”

“Hmm,” He rumbled in assent, but his red eyes were clouded with memory. 

Itto first heard the story when he was ten, sitting in grade school with all the other village kids, and had memorised the way it had ended. 

The truth was that once the Red Oni gained the humans’ trust, they declared him the saviour of their village and would rely on him for everything. He helped them out at first, feeling guilty about the broken homes, but soon found himself unable to leave the villagers at all; there was always more work, always more guilt and always someone left to help. 

One day, when he’d found a little time for himself, he snuck away and up the mountain to the cave he shared, only to find it dusty, like no one had lived there for days. A letter awaited him on their little table and once he’d read it, the Red Oni couldn’t stop crying. 

The letter was from the Blue Oni, it said: Hello, Old Friend. You have not been back in days so I hope this finds you in good health. I have decided to go on a journey far, far north and I pray you will not come looking for me when I do. You finally have the love of the humans, which you so greatly deserve, but love is a fickle thing and I fear you may lose it if you’re seen with me again; the Evil One. Do not worry for me, I shall manage as I always have, but I hope it’s not selfish of me to ask that you keep me in your memory still. I shall always be thinking of you too. Sincerely, Your Friend.

Itto remembered the way everyone around him either erupted into tears, or gaped around in dazed confusion, like they couldn’t fully grasp what was happening. 

Even his teacher had looked a little misty-eyed, dabbing at her cheeks with a white napkin, but he knew at once that none of them truly understood what the story meant. Sacrifices couldn’t change the past. The Red Oni only had their respect so long as he could protect the humans. 

He involuntarily narrowed his eyes. Monsters were only loved as long as they were useful.

“Itto?” A feather-light touch on his forearm slipped him out of the memory, and he found himself blinking as two gold eyes, like moons, looked up at him from under a head of choppy blonde hair.

Yoimiya wrinkled her nose, stood up and bumped his shoulder with her hip pointedly so she could sit beside him. He obediently scooted to the side to make space for her and she gave him a small smile as she took her place.    The once-pink sky now bruised a quiet shade of blue and a faint hum of anticipation hung in the air. The fireworks show would start soon. 

Only when Yoimiya leaned her head against his forearm did Itto realise she’d been speaking.

“–didn’t want to spoil their fun,” she sighed, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear, “They didn’t need to know about all the sad bits with everything that’s already going on. The vision hunt decree’s got a lot of folks down and confused, it’s a miracle these kids haven’t lost their energy in the fuss.”

“Huh.” Itto raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t thought of it like that.

“And besides-” she peeked up at him mischievously, “-who’s to say the story doesn’t end there anyway?”

“It doesn’t!” Itto puffed, insistent, “It ends when the Red Oni finds the letter, even an idiot could tell ya that much.”

“Stubborn as ever,” Yoimiya made a face and reached out to poke his cheek, “Don’t be so bullish, Arataki-san, use your imagination! Isn’t there any other ending you can think of?”

He let her prod at his face as he pondered the question; this was a normal occurrence between the two of them. 

He’d challenge her to a duel, she’d find some roundabout way to best him, and then she’d go on to break all boundaries between them like they were best friends, even though he’d only known her for a few months at most. 

When Itto had first arrived in the Hanamizaka District in Inazuma, the locals had been wary to say the least. If seeing an oni was rare, seeing a half-human one was even rarer, and he couldn’t hide the glaring red horns peeking out of his stark silver hair, though the horrified stares he garnered grew with each time he came out in public. 

Not that he would either way– Itto had leaned into the half-demon persona with gusto; leaving the red birthmarks on his face, chest and arms on full display and only making the occasional attempt to tame his wild mane– which brought its own set of problems. 

Vendors would run from him when he tried to buy food, tripping over their carts in fear; priestesses would avert their eyes and pray to the Electro Archon for salvation and even the guards on patrol had a wary hand on their blades every time he passed, like they were waiting for him to snap and attack. 

He was used to it. Though born and brought up in Inazuma, he’d been outcasted for his heritage most of his life, to the point where the gasps of shock no longer bothered him. They would all change their tune soon enough.

It was the same in every district, the locals would be horrified by his presence until they saw him punishing a wicked landlord or catching a bandit or defying some other injustice they’d been putting up with, and then the tables would turn instantly; he’d be hailed as a hero. 

Itto soon disregarded the opinions of people around him completely and let his strong moral compass do the talking– the culprits would take one look at his glowing yellow vision and the club slung over his shoulder and would admit defeat almost immediately. 

Unfortunately, he lost his vision right after that so it made the aforementioned talking, among other things, a lot more difficult. 

He’d challenged the general of the Tenryou Commission, Kujou Sara, to a duel and got his ass handed to him; she’d taken his pride and his power, refusing to respond to his demands for a rematch and leaving him with bottled up frustration that had him using his fists to settle matters instead, sending him to jail more and more often.

That was where he’d first met Yoimiya.

“Arataki-san? Did you fall asleep?”

Itto opened one eye to find her unabashedly pulling his cheek now, any pretense of decorum between them forgotten. Though it seemed that everyone else in Inazuma had inherited an intense fear of demon-kind, that particular gene seemed to have slipped the Naganohara heir this generation. 

Yoimiya was one of the few brave or foolish, (he’d yet to decide), ones that would voluntarily spend time with him, who wasn’t part of his gang– though not for lack of trying on his part. 

“Yoi-chan–“ He began, but she already knew what was coming.

“No, Arataki-san, I’m not going to join your little club,” she huffed and let go of his face immediately.

“Gang. The Arataki Gang. And why not––“

“Because,” she looked up at the sky expectantly, no doubt waiting for the fireworks to begin.

“–some of us have actual jobs around here.”

“I do have a job–“

“Beetle-fighting is not a real a real job, Arataki-san,” Yoimiya laughed, nearly tumbling backwards. 

He caught her with his palm, helping her regain her balance without even having to move his other shoulder but squinted suspiciously when she sat closer than she had before. 

“Thanks,” she smiled, and Itto’s frown deepened. 

Was she really not afraid of him? Not even a little?

“Eat any pickled plums lately, Arataki-san?” She teased as he leaned a little closer, looking for the tell tale widening of the eyes, the sudden flinch of her shoulders as she realised how huge he was compared to her. How his claws could shred her to bits with one swipe. 

Itto waited for the gasp of fear and shock that he’d become accustomed to hearing his whole life.

Yoimiya only blinked at him once, twice, in confusion, then leaned forward and pushed his bangs back from his face. They were close enough that he could see the deep brown undertone of her gold eyes, when she reached out and touched his red horns.

Now any self-respecting demon with half a brain could tell you that under no conditions whatsoever must you touch an oni’s horns. Not only are they one of the most sensitive parts of the oni’s body, the loss of one is akin to the loss of a limb. 

Some demons even go so far as to wrap their horns with cloth to hide them from any unnecessary stimuli, but of course, Itto had never seen any reason to. It’s not like he had people lining up to touch his head– even the children had only just begun to warm up to him. But, of course, Yoimiya hadn’t the faintest idea.

“Arataki-san,” she said as he gaped at her in surprise, “Your face is heating up. Do you have a fever?”

Itto jumped back like she’d scalded him, cheeks aflame, trying maintain a semblance of his swagger but found his thoughts unraveling as she eyed him micheviously instead. 

Yoimiya had been called a lot of things by the citizens of Inazuma– a chatterbox, a messy eater, a delinquent, a doll, even the occasional jail-breaker– but she’d never ever been mistaken for stupid. The girl was as bright as the fireworks she set off on a regular basis, and he’d found out this the hard way.

“Or could it be..” Yoimiya grinned and moved closer but Itto scrambled backwards at the sudden proximity, trying not to think about the sensory overload: how her hair smelled like citrus and gunpowder, or how her lips, her soft, pink, entirely human lips were inches from his own, or how he was fully and thoroughly screwed now that she’d figured out his weakness.

Shit, shit, shit. 

“Don’t tell me it’s because you’re..”

BOOM!

She trailed away as the first firework burst in the sky, sending gold flakes of light sparkling across the midnight blue. 

As his cheeks cooled down, Itto watched Yoimiya shift towards the sound as more and more explosions joined the original one, now in colours of green and red, her eyes glazing over at the blinding display. It was another thing about her that left him puzzled; despite never being at a loss for words, the only time he’d seen her fall quiet was when she was watching the fireworks. 

No matter how many times she’d seen them before, no matter who she was seeing them with, Itto could see how transfixed she was by the little bursts of light that faded away into the vast darkness that swept over them, as though there was a story written in the smoke that only she could read. 

“Yoi-chan,” He mumbled, but just as he’d expected, the Naganohara heir barely batted an eyelash, too lost in her own world to notice her friend.

Itto sighed and looked down at his hands; the stark red tattoos banding his knuckles, the claw-like nails, and thought about what she’d said. Isn’t there any other ending you can think of?, she’d asked, genuine and curious in a way that got on his nerves for reasons he couldn’t explain.

He thought he knew how humans operated; they loved anything that was of use to them and respected anything that instilled fear in them. 

Itto had no desire to be useful to anyone. It was why he refused to get a job in the first place––  he wasn’t some kind of arse-kissing, mercenary-for-hire, though he’d met many a sleazy businessman who needed to be told that repeatedly, with fists. So he settled for being a nomadic warrior instead. 

He’d earn their respect with his fearsome displays of justice and make his mark his own way, The Itto Way–– going so far as to graciously recruit members into the Arataki Gang so they could fully appreciate all that his protection had to offer.

Even Kujo Tengu had a begrudging respect for his strength, he was sure of it, (though she still refused to respond to his challenges for a rematch).

He thought his philosophy was ironclad– until Yoimiya came along and shattered it to pieces. Not only did she not fear him to the point of ridiculousness; she didn’t try to push him into doing her chores with her either; in fact, he suspected that she actively blew off work just to partake in their competitions! 

To add insult to injury, Itto doubted she even considered him a real rival for the children’s affections– wouldn’t she show a little more persistence if she wasn’t merely humouring him?

But then again, that was always Yoimiya’s style. She approached everything with such sincere recklessness that you’d really have to stop and wonder how much of it was real, and how much was an act. Not that he’d ever wondered, of course. Her recklessness had gotten him out of jail, after all.

It happened on a day like every other one he’d had since he lost his vision. 

He’d gotten into a fight with a particularly cruel landlord and found himself on the wrong end of the Tenryou Commissioner’s katana both in a single day, (talk about bad luck), when he’d first met Yoimiya. 

The guards had tossed him into the nearest holding cell, not even bothering with cuffs this time - they knew as well as he did that he had nowhere else to go anyway - and spent the rest of the afternoon getting drunk over a mahjong table. 

The Shogunate’s iron tight influence over Inazuma meant that anyone who caused even the slightest infraction was either immediately banished or executed by the Raiden herself, so there was no one left to line its jail cells except petty pickpockets or walking nuisances who dared to bare a little teeth, like him.

Itto rolled his eyes as the two foot soldiers snored away into the fading evening light, just beginning to get comfortable on his own makeshift bed of rope and hay when a loud clink! resounded throughout the room and a he turned to see a tiny blonde girl swear under her breath as she knocked down more tiles across the floorboards, sending the tiny rectangular pieces skittering through his wooden bars.

He remembered wondering three things that day - why this strange girl looked so familiar, what that bauble in her hair was, a hanging lollipop-like ornament resembling a dango, and wether she’d let him eat it just to be sure - as she carefully placed a few of the mahjong pieces back on the board. 

“C’mon Yoimiya, we don’t have time for this!”

Itto hadn’t noticed she was accompanied by another person till then, with short, shaved hair and the nondescript grey robes of a street vendor; the man was frantically gesturing towards the exit. 

It seemed that a jailbreak was taking place.

“Coming, Hanshirou, just let me get this one–” Yoimiya called back, reaching for the tiles that had fallen under the table. As the man, Hanshirou, fretted to himself and tried not lose temper, Itto got an answer to one of his questions. 

“Hey! Hey, you–– Naganohara girl!” He said quickly but quietly, sliding a game piece through the bars, so as to not startle her. She whirled around in surprise as it landed at the base of her ankle, and in typical Yoimiya fashion, shifted towards the unusual instead of away from it. 

She crept to the front of his cell and peered through the wooden framework curiously.

“How ‘bout ya bust me outta here too,” He proposed when she was close enough that he could see the red tattoos on her forearm, “–and, in exchange, I’ll owe ya one.” 

“Whaddya say? Sound like a deal?”

“Your eyes,” Yoimiya said softly, cocking her head to one side, oddly transfixed. 

Itto bristled. 

He wasn’t unused to people pointing out the traits of his half demon heritage, hair and eyes especially; but it was always the way they did it that irked him. Their features lined with fear as they took in the silver and red, like they couldn’t believe it existed. Like they believed he shouldn’t. But the Naganohara heir had other intentions.

“And? What about ‘em?” He tried not to growl, crossing his arms defensively.

“They’re like firework shells,” she replied, undeterred, pressing her face against the bars to get a better look.

“They’re.. what?” 

Itto resisted the urge to lean closer to make sure he heard her right. 

“Firework shells? What’re ya on about, Sparkie?”

The unprompted nickname seemed to shake her out of whatever daze she’d been in. Yoimiya blinked in surprise, gasped and briskly turned around to wave at a horrified looking Hanshirou, who looked like he was about to faint.

“Wait a second!” Itto huffed as Yoimiya placed the final mahjong tile on the table between the two unconscious soldiers and turned to leave, “Don’t ya want anythin’ from me?” 

“A favour from The Oni Sumo King ain’t nothin’ to turn yer nose up at, y’know!”

“No thanks,” she shrugged carelessly, not even pretending to consider his offer. 

“I’m all out of requests at the moment. But if you need my help that badly, Arataki-san, I’d be willing to play you for it.”

Itto was so surprised by her answer that he forgot to ask how she knew his name.

“Fine,” he accepted resentfully; he would’ve corrected her except she was right. Itto did need her help, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it. Playing for it seemed less humiliating than begging anyway.

“What’re we playin’?”

“Rock-paper-scissors!” She grinned.

They played for hours straight. 

Round after round, until the last of the evening’s light bled into claustrophobic night, neither of them getting close to victory in the game meant to settle petty children’s squabbles. 

Hanshirou had slipped away by their twenty-seventh game, and a pregnant moon had risen through the high windows, bathing the happy-go-lucky girl and the frustrated half-oni in its dreamy white glow. 

A moon much like the one that embellished the sky today; this time a dull, monochromatic backdrop for the rainbow of light that was steadily being punctuated by sharp, sudden bursts of sound. 

BOOM!

Itto released a breath and leaned back against the rocky wall, as the sound of the fireworks nudged him out of the memory, and back into real life. 

He did end up losing that final match to her (35 to 44), but she’d still unlatched the door to his cell anyway, reasoning, with a wink, that anyone who was willing to play janken with her for four full hours, couldn’t be that much of a villain.

This kindness had, of course, irritated him to no end, so he’d hunted Yoimiya down the very next morning and demanded a rematch. She’d been surrounded by children then, showing them some new toy she’d dug out from back of her shop– they’d been afraid at first, but took a liking to him when Yoimiya beat him again, (this time a pitiful 75 to 4). 

Thus began their legendary rivalry for the children’s attention, although, if he were being honest with himself, it really should be renamed Arataki Itto’s Longest Losing Streak in Existence. To a girl who had no trouble winning, no less. 

Itto tried not to sulk as he shot a sideways glance at the girl in question; Yoimiya hadn’t torn her gaze away from the fireworks display all this time. 

Though it had been a few weeks since the start of their unlikely friendship, Itto found himself unwilling to believe she didn’t need anything from him. 

Everyone always needed something from him. It was a fact; wether it be protection or strength, or even just a picture. That was just how humans were.

Why else would she have let him out of jail? Or bothered to show up for yet another sour-plum eating contest, four days in a row. Why else would she bother hanging around him at all?

Whaddya really want from me, Sparkie?

He hadn’t realised he’d said it out loud until the explosions finally faded away and Yoimiya turned around.

“To be your friend, Arataki-san,” she said softly, her perpetual smile strangely sad under the moonlight.

“If you’ll have me.”

The abrupt silence gently sloughed into the soft hiss of cicadas, and rustle of wind on branches as nature took over the symphony with its own, unique orchestra. 

Something odd happened to Itto then.

Maybe it was the way she was staring right through him, or how the absence of fireworks left a visible vacancy in her eyes; hell, it could’ve just been because he’d never seen the Naganohara heir look anything short of bright and bubbly–– but an inexplicable sense of guilt pricked his heart. 

The buzzing feeling traveled from his chest to his knees, and then right back up to his stomach where it settled, burning a hole straight through his intestines.

He’d been so sure that she had some kind of ulterior motive in befriending him, that he hadn’t realised his suspicions were slowly pushing her away. Granny was right. He could be a real jerk sometimes.

The half-oni sighed, stood up and held out an arm. 

Yoimiya glanced up at him perplexed.

“You’re really bad at it then,” He huffed when she didn’t take it immediately. 

“Arataki-san this, Arataki-san that–– if I didn’t know any better I’d think ya only met me yesterday, Sparkie.”

The fire in Yoimiya’s eyes flared as the meaning behind his words clicked. 

She took his outstretched palm in hers and he pulled her up.

“You know, if you don’t like your name you should just change it yourself– AHH!” Yoimiya began to tease, but shrieked when he bent forward and picked her up by her thighs instead, hoisting her whole frame over one of his shoulders in one fell swoop.

“Put me down,” she laughed as she steadied herself against him, but Itto only shook his head and supported her with one arm, turning to point out the sky with the other.

BOOM!

Yoimiya gasped as the fireworks show resumed, relaxing her grip on his triceps to reach out her hand to the night instead, like she was trying to catch the glittering light between her soot smudged fingertips. 

Itto watched her fall silent just as quickly as before and resisted the urge to grin. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the annual light show but watching them with Yoimiya wasn’t half bad.

She absentmindedly placed her other hand on the top of his head, near the base of his horns and he felt a flicker of electricity pass through him, prickling his spine and shaking his passenger in the process.

“Don’t touch the horns,” Itto grouched when she looked down at him in confusion. Her eyes sparkled wickedly then and he wondered if it was morally acceptable to fling her off the cliff right then and there.

“Don’t tell me you’re ticklish,” she laughed again, but obediently moved her hand back down to his neck, much to his surprise. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault! Oni horns are extremely sensitive, alright?”

“Alright, alright. Horns are off limits. Got it.”

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, Yoimiya whispered into his ear.

“Itto.. san?”

“Hm,” He rumbled in assent.

“No, I was just wondering if that’s what you wanted me to call you,” she replied, pulling on his earlobe impishly.

“Or what about.. Taki.. san? Oh I know– Taki-kun!”

Itto felt his face (and his ears) flush, even though her hands were safely away from his horns, and mumbled something incomprehensible into the night air. She leaned over to hear him better.

“No I’m not going to call you Arataki Burning Passion for Battle Itto,” Yoimiya snorted, “It’s too long. And it’s not cute at all, Itto-san.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Itto rolled his eyes, “Just don’t sweat it with all that Arataki-san business. I ain’t my old man, alright?”

“Okay, what about.. hm..”

BOOM!

Itto didn’t need to look up to see that Yoimiya was once again lost in the fireworks. 

Darkness burned away under the onslaught of tiny silver and gold bursts, briefly turning their night to day, and he felt his sensitive demon eyes shirk against the sudden flash. 

The sparks fizzled out and fell, covering the sky in a mock meteor shower, each flicker leaving behind a burning white trail and for a second he imagined the white hot light raining all around them, sputtering out into tiny glowing fireflies as they fell.

It was gone as suddenly as it arrived, the blinding flare, and Itto found himself blinking spots out of his vision as the Naganohara Fireworks Show fittingly came to an end.

“Hey, Sparkie,” he began, gently nudging the girl atop him out of her own daze, “Hey, I thought about what ya said.”

“About.. the name?” She mumbled confusedly, rubbing stars out of her eyes. “About the story.”

“The story?” Yoimiya tilted her head.

“Yeah, the story. ‘Bout how ya said it didn’t have to end like it did?”

“Oh! The Oni story,” she smacked her own forehead, “Is that what you’ve been thinking about all this time?”

“No,” Itto lied, looking anywhere but up. 

Yoimiya narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Anyway, I think I figured it out.”

“Does the Red Oni stay with the humans and have fun forever?” She volunteered, only half-joking. 

Itto shook his head.

“He goes searching for the Blue Oni, and brings him home.”

“That’s great,” Yoimiya said kindly, stifling a yawn, “Good for.. (hah).. good for him.. he deserves it.”

Itto nodded, almost to himself. 

It was an idea he’d been toying with for a while now. If he were the Red Oni– well, let’s just say the story would’ve gone much more differently if he were in it, but suffice to say he definitely wouldn’t have let his friend sacrifice himself. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even let his enemies sacrifice themselves for him; Itto was very anti-sacrifice all around.

“But you know-” Yoimiya mused, “-I think the humans might be a little jealous if they have to share the Red Oni now.”

“Huh?”

“Think about it Ara– um, Itto-san,” She said, stumbling over the unfamiliar moniker, “If the Blue Oni comes back, the Red Oni’s probably going to spend all his time with his best friend.”

“Yeah, and?” 

“And, wouldn’t you be jealous if your best friend didn’t spend time with you anymore?”

Itto considered this.

“Nah, not really,” he admitted after a few seconds of deep thought, “Ushi usually comes back home at the end of the day so I ain’t too worried ‘bout the little guy.”

“Little guy?” She raised an eyebrow, “You’re talking about that tiny ox that follows you around, aren’t you? That doesn’t count, Itto-san.”

“For your information,” the half oni crossed his arms, “Ushi’s a Bull, who also happens to be the Third Foundin’ Member of the Arataki Gang and my best friend.”

“Right,” She rolled her eyes, “But I’m talking about a real person. Sort of like... hmm– oh! Like General Kujou Sara, for example.”

“Kujou Tengu?!” Itto replied, scandalised, “We’re not friends, we’re rivals.”

“We’re rivals,” Yoimiya gave him a pointed look and he resisted the urge to immediately correct her by saying that it was different. 

Kujou Tengu was cold where Yoimiya was warm; distant where the latter hadn’t fully grasped the concept. It was different. He just didn’t know how to put it into words.

“I still don’t get it,” he grumbled instead and she shook her head pityingly.

“Poor, poor Itto-san,” Yoimiya teased, petting his hair, “Imagine if you found out that Kujou-san hadn’t been responding to your challenges because she was too busy fighting someone else.”

Itto jaw twitched. 

While it was true enough that he’d been clamouring for a rematch against the general of the Tenryou Commission, he had a strong suspicion that she did not share his sentiment. Still, the thought of the countless noticeboards he’d desecrated in order to get her attention had his hackles raising– surely it couldn’t be that hard to make time for another battle with such a worthy opponent as himself. 

Yoimiya’s eyes sparked, catching the minute shift in facial expression and mistaking it for something else entirely. 

“Aww, it’s alright,” she grinned, “There’s no harm in feeling a little jealous now and then.”

“No idea what yer on about, Sparkie,” he squinted, trying not to recall Kujou Tengu’s sharp gaze or her infuriating smile as she rubbed her victory in his face. 

He wasn’t jealous; if anything he was tired of being disrespected by someone who, in all fairness, should’ve been part of his gang but settled for being the Raiden’s lapdog instead. 

“I’d be jealous if it were me.”

Itto almost didn’t hear Yoimiya mumble the words into his hair at first. 

He waited a beat but she didn’t elaborate. 

“Ya would?” He prodded finally, trying to tilt his head back to see her face, in vain. 

“Mhm,” he could feel her breath on his scalp, “If the Red Oni suddenly left without explanation and spent all his time with the Blue Oni, I think I’d be terribly jealous of her.”

Her?

“I’d feel like she stole my friend away from me, y’know?”

Silence bloomed between the two after that– a silence that was different from all their other ones, now filled with mystery and the promise of something unsaid. Itto had a faint suspicion that Yoimiya wasn’t talking about the story at all, and for the first time since he’d met her the half-oni wondered how well he really knew the Naganohara heir. 

For all of her playacting and childish games, the fireworks expert had never worn her heart on her sleeve the way he did, and it hadn’t occurred to him to ask why, till this very moment. 

But before Itto could open his mouth and come up with a response that wasn’t one syllable long, Yoimiya laughed and smacked him on the top of his head, sending a mild shock through his body.

“Oh, look at me running my mouth off like an old spinster,” She huffed, the smile returning to her voice, “Thoma did always harp on and on about how I had no filter. Guess I should’ve taken his advice when I had the chance, huh?”

“Listen, Sparkie,” Itto began, unsure what any part of their conversation had to do with Inazuma’s most well-known Fixer, but she only laughed again, and gestured for him to put her down. 

He reluctantly leaned forward so she could easily slip off of his shoulders and onto the same rock they’d been sharing before, and Yoimiya stretched as she did so, her nimble arms extending with fox-like grace. 

The tattoo on her forearm rippled with the motion and Itto found his eyes drawn to the single koi fish intertwined with branches of cherry blossoms, all stained a dark, inky red– suddenly realising that he had no idea what the meaning was behind it all.

In all the time they’d known one another he’d learned much about Hanamizaka’s best pyrotechnician; how she took her ramen (with ridiculous amounts of chili sauce), what her favourite hobby was (fireworks), where she hid out when she wanted to get away from people (the beach)– but next to nothing about her past. Not even how she got her vision (though he must’ve told her about his own more times than he could count.) 

There were still so many things he didn’t know about his friend. 

“Yoi-chan,” he tried again, but she was already bounding away from him, across the plain, up the sakura tree, her quick feet finding purchase in the elegant, brown bark as she hoisted herself up to the top of the trunk.

“You should get up here,” She waved excitedly, “The view is great!”

“Wait a minute! We gotta talk!” He called back, bending over to straighten his mace, which had somehow fallen over and rolled into a nearby bush in all the excitement. 

Something smacked the back of his head and he looked up in confusion to find Yoimiya perched higher than she was before, flicking a small, round object at him.

“Hurry up, Itto-san!” She giggled, tossing another one.

He caught it with ease this time, so she stuck her tongue out at him and leapt to her feet to resume her ascent. Itto opened his palm to reveal the tiny, unique shape of a cherry blossom seed taunting him. 

“Would ya listen to me for a second, Sparkie?” He squinted upwards, letting it fall from his palm harmlessly, but Yoimiya’s bright orange kimono was already disappearing into the pale pink cluster of flowers. 

“I’ll listen to whatever you’ve gotta say when you catch up to me, slowpoke!” 

Itto waited a few seconds before he began to climb, straining his ears to hear the faint sound of her laughter that seemed to be coming from all around him. As he heaved himself over the first couple of boughs he felt the wood crack into splinters under his nails and winced. 

He wasn’t fond of tree-scaling for many reasons, usually because he felt like the tree wasn’t too fond of him either. Yoimiya had laughed and laughed when he told her that the trees here were sentient. Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me that the Raiden Shogun isn’t the Shogun at all. 

The view gave way to an endless cliff on one side - a result of the tree growing out of the rocky outcropping no doubt, which was punctuated by a twenty foot drop into a shallow pool of water - and the distinct, triangular roofs of the Inazuman buildings on the other, glossy under the milky sheen of starlight.

Itto climbed higher and higher, chasing flashes of telltale orange he’d glimpse once in a while, but found himself face to snout with a baby kitsune instead. 

He knelt, so as to not scare the creature and watched as it silently opened its big purple eyes and gave him a once-over. Though Itto wasn’t unfamiliar with the foxes - they huddled in the wilder parts of Inazuma and occasionally snuck around the back alleys of the city - he’d never taken a liking to their more secretive natures, even when Granny Oni made him place offerings with her. 

If you ever see a raincloud burst while the sun still shines, it’s a sure sign of a kitsune’s wedding, she’d warned him when he’d tried to scare them away once, So I’d try not to anger them if I were you Itto-chan, or they could ruin the perfectly good day you’re having.

He’d assumed it was all superstitious nonsense, like breaking combs or throwing beans, but looking into the oddly intelligent eyes of the animal in front of him, he felt the stirrings of doubt in his stomach. Go on, he prodded mentally, make it rain.

The fox pawed at its ear for a second before letting out a deep sniff and hopping off to a higher branch. He watched it escape, moonlight slicking the path behind it as it ran, and tried not to feel disappointed. 

Before he could really appreciate the peace and quiet, however, the unmistakable sound of a branch breaking came from above him.

“Itto-san?”

Itto looked up in horror to find Yoimiya balancing precariously on a thin bough and clutching the branch nearest to her like a lifeline, mirth steadily draining from her face as the one under her feet let out another dangerous crack!.

“Yoi-chan?!”

She caught sight of him then, her gold eyes wide with terror, and managed to muster up a frightened smile.

“I think I might’ve gone too far,” she joked but her voice trembled as she said it, betraying her feelings. 

Itto was already on his feet, steadying himself against the tree trunk as he kicked off his sandals.

“Jump!” He yelled, arms outstretched as another crack split the night air in two.

Yoimiya hesitated. 

A thousand expressions seemed to flit across her face at once; facets of fear, panic, surprise, each overlapping the other, a Venn diagram of uncertainty mapping itself out on her features as she considered potentially taking both of them down with her fall. 

A sudden plop! echoed into the night as a raindrop landed squarely on her scalp, making the decision for her. Then another. And another. The sky was filled with soft hiss of rain in a matter of seconds, drowning out the sounds of the night in favour of covering everything with its wet embrace.

“What’re ya waitin’ for?” Itto roared, the sense of urgency striking him red-hot and fast, like metal in a forge. Rain ran down on him, dampening his hair and pricking his skin. Somewhere in the distance, he imagined the curled up frame of a ginger fox, giggling to itself. Ask only what you wish to receive.

“You gotta jump now!”

“Swear you’ll catch me.”

He gaped up at her, bewildered, wondering if this too was some lame attempt at a last-minute jest, but Yoimiya’s expression was beseeching and wholly, undeniably serious.

“Whaddya think I’m doin’, Sparkie?” He motioned for her to let go of the branch and for a short second he thought she might. 

But she pulled back almost immediately. 

“I can’t!” She cried, clinging tighter. Itto felt his heart leap to his throat as the twig in her hands snapped instantly, sending a domino effect of breaking sounds across the whole tree. 

“Itto-san?”

The terror on Yoimiya’s face doubled as she balanced on the weak branch, both arms out like a tightrope walker, her breaths coming in short bursts, one wrong move away from toppling twenty feet down into a shallow, watery grave.

He moved to the very edge of his own branch, ignoring the rain that streaked down his face relentlessly, crouching a little, so she’d feel like he was closer than he actually was. 

“I swear I’ll catch ya, Sparkie. You have my word,” he nodded holding out his arm comfortingly.

“Don’t ’cha trust me?”

Yoimiya took a deep breath. 

And jumped.

There was a brief second between her leaping off the branch, (it gave one final, feeble crack before shattering under foot), and her falling into his arms that seemed to last all eternity. 

Time stretched, wrapped and melted around them all at once, so all he could remember was the hush as the rain quieted all around them, the few metres of distance between his skin and hers, before it rapidly accelerated forward then he was hugging her, holding her, pressing her very cold, very alive body onto his and taking giant heaving breaths.

As Itto steadied himself so they both wouldn’t have to suffer a less deadly but equally painful landing at the base of the tree, Yoimiya wiped away the rain and tears that had mixed with one another on her face, and took a seat in an attempt to quell the shaking in her legs.

The moon had wedged itself between a slit in the clouds, so that only a sliver of its light was able to illuminate their surroundings. Itto took a seat beside her, letting the adrenaline wear off under the cooling rain that dripped all around them. 

“Itto-san,” He turned to her curiously.

 Yoimiya gave him a small smile.

“I think I’m finally ready to listen now.”

[b-a-l-a-n-c-3]

OK finally got a general concept drawn out (first attempt)-

Current name is VERTILANCE, the Fire-Steel type evo of Charcadet. This is a very general outline of what I had thought out, but I may revisit it so it fits in a little better with the rest of the line. Tried to make it look more bulky yet also not so bulky that it varied from the line as well.

v Rambles under the cut v

In this design I wanted to put emphasis on the lance and shield, showing a more defensive side of this pokemon while also giving it some offensive capabilities. Lance is sort of like a spring, it can coil back and shoot outwards (but not off) at an opponent. It’s also hard to see in the image but the shield also has some fire inside of it, giving it a similar but less offensive mechanic as the lance. I wanted the shield to be a held item by Vertilance so that it could have some way of holding stuff lol (not an outside held item but an item that is a part of the pokemon).

I chose the green-blue color scheme because of fire’s reaction to copper sulfate, which gives it a green or blue color. I may have to find a different color for the eyes though because the yellow clashes with Armarouge a bit. Chose yellow as a backup color just so that it pops out a little.

The head fire and tail are based off of traditional French cavalry armor, plus some inspo from the Honedge line in terms of shape. Wanted it to seem more regal and composed when compared with the other two, since I see this one being more domesticated.

Stat wise I want it to have as close to equal defense and sp. defense as possible, a roundhouse tank. It would obviously be more physically offensive but I still want that stat to be kind of low as to give it moderate speed and more bulk emphasis, especially with its typing.

Finally, I thought of its signature move mechanic being similar to Metal Burst. Vertilance would protect the first turn (against all physical attacking moves, not special or status), then retaliate at the end of the turn with double the power of the dealt attack. Maybe I’ll change it to include special attacks as well but for now it fails with status moves.

OK that’s all for now thank you for coming to my TED talk-

INTRO——-

While everyone is speculating on what the starters will be in legends ZA I am speculating that we will get a third charcadet evolution. As crazy as it sounds, please hear me out.

Also! This is speculation. This isn’t a leak or anything, this is just a fan separating on a PKMN i really like. If I get this wrong don’t come after me please.

THEME———

Koraidon is red and represents the past, Miraidon is purple and represents the future. Cyclizar is green and represents the present.

Armarouge has red and represents the future, Ceruledge has purple and represents the past. Where’s the green knight that represents the present? It might be in Kalos.

The focus of Legends ZA is Zygarde, who just so happens to be green.

ZA might have some themes about the past and future, and since the knights represent the opposite theme of their games, a knight that represents the present in a game about the past and future, just makes sense to me.

France, the country Kalos is based on, had numerous famous knights in its history. It wouldn’t be far-fetched for another Charcadet evolution to appear in the region. Kalos and Paldea are also connected, meaning that it’s also not unlikely for Charcadet to be found there.

In X and Y the Royal Family has a castle we can go in, there’s a lot of knight-like PKMN statues around the castle that being Pawniards and bisharps. (but not gallade because gamefreak regretted making gallade)

In castle, we see these two paintings. Tying us back to the past and future as well as the knight thing going on. Both Armarouge and Ceruledge represent the past and future as well as being very “knight-like” PKMN. I feel like it’s a possibility they could be in the game, as well tying us back to legends ZA possibly taking back in the past and further.

COMBAT STYLE———

Somebody on twitter pointed this out

The third missing combat arm is cavalry, which is riding on horseback.

French knights were known for their horse riding; many writings, paintings, and statues portrayed French knights on a horse or with a horse. French knights were called chevaliers, which translates into “horseman”.

Jousting, a competitive sport practiced by knights on horseback, originated in France. Each knight attempts to knock their opponent off their horse with a long lance.

This third evolution might be based on jousting, which is still played to this day despite its medieval origins. A lance would be a perfect mix of it being far away from the opponent but close enough to the opposite. A middle ground from Armarouge’s far distance attacks and Ceruledge’s close combat. 

This also could tie us back to the third evo representing the present because jousting is still played to this day.

While jousting doesn’t require a horse to be played, the armor on the third evo might have some horse elements to it to emphasize the cavalry, and since mega evolution is coming back what’s not to say they’ll make its mega evolution a centaur for this third evo. *shivers*

SHAPE LANGUAGE——————-

Armarouge and ceruledge are both perfect examples of shape language in character design. 

Armaoruge is rounder in appearance due to its Pauldrons, it also has rounder eyes, hands, and a brighter color palette. Its armor is smooth and overall has a nicer, friendlier appearance. A Pokemon who would probably hug you..

Ceruledge on the other hand is a menace to society. Its armor and body is full of pointed edges, from its chest, its chin, helmet, ears, eyes, boots and obviously its swords. It has a darker color palette which gives it a menacing appearance. If you were to see this Pokemon in the wild you are probably going to die. Definitely not as huggable as Armarouge.

Armarouge used a lot of circles and rounder shapes for its design, making it seem friendlier and approachable, while Ceruledge uses a lot of edges for it’s design to seem more intimidating. This third charcadet evolution would use squares for its design making it seem strong and reliable.

In character design there are usually 3 shapes you should use when designing a character. Circles, squares and triangles. It’s interesting you see Armarouge uses circles and ceruledge uses triangles. but not having the third one that uses squares.

In character design squares are seen as bold, sturdy and strong. In jousting you sorta have to be sturdy when riding on your horse.

TYPING—————

What could this third knight typing be?

Armarouge and Ceruledge’s typings seem to relate if they are in the past or future.

For example Armarouge is a psychic type based on the future. Psychic types pkmn are known for looking into the future, for example gardevoir, delphox and Xatu. What's not to say Armarouge could do the same thing.

Armarouge’s armor also reflects that being more “technologically advanced” and having less armor, which throughout the years armor has been used less and less since guns were invented.

Ceruledge is based on the past and it's typing reflects that as well. Being a ghost type, ghosts are known for being stuck in the past and being vengeful, spiteful of what happened. It also uses more traditional weapons and has more armor, like on its helmet, boots and arms. 

My idea for what this third knight typing might be is either steel or flying type. (Fighting type could work because of typing stuff with psychic and ghost.)

Steel could represent the present because we are in the Iron Age. Steel is strong and sturdy, tying back into the square shape language and the sturdiness required for jousting. Green is also not an outlandish color for a steel type, as we have seen a few examples already. Celesteela, the Brozor line, and Copperajah are all examples. Green calls to mind tarnished metal, which could play into the “old but still standing” theme of jousting. 

For flying type air and wind associated with speed and the color green. (The reason why wind is associated with green is because of grass and trees being blown by them) Horses in media are usually portray with their mains flowing in the wind and are also really fast. If this third evo is going to be more “horse like” *shivers* as well as it being more speed based I think flying type could work. It also work to represent the present because flying is usually portrayed as “being in the moment” like skydiving or a character in media trying/learning to fly.

ISN’T IT TOO SOON FOR A THIRD EVOLUTION?

While I would agree with you, I would like Armarouge and ceruledge to have a bit more time in the spotlight. It seems that Gamefreak has been making new evolutions since gen 8 with their newer Pokemon, for example Applin, Duraludon and Blood Moon Ursaluna. 

Blood moon Ursaluna literally having another form RIGHT AFTER legends arceus.

The idea of a third charcadet evo being “too soon” is out of the question. Gamefreak also seems to make new forms for PKMN that need it or PKMN that was *extremely* like zorua, sneasel etc. The charcadet line is a very popular PKMN, I mean there’s a reason why both Armarouge and ceruledge were the first paldean to be revealed. *ceruledge even had a Pokemon day to itself*

Conclusion

While this is just pure speculation and I could be totally wrong and we never ever get a third evo, I just think we going back to Kalos and the whole green thing and the possibility of the game being based on the past and future just seems like a perfect time to make a third evo that could represent the present. Not doing so just seems like a missed opportunity, at least to me. With Paldea and Kalos being so close to eachother I feel like it’s a possibility. 

TOO LONG DIDN’T READ YAAAWWN

We might get a third charcadet evo in legends ZA, the reason why I think this is because of the box legendaries in scarlet and violet as well as cyclizar each represent the past, future and present. I think this third knight will represent the present as well being green much like cyclizar. It will also be green because of legends ZA being green. Since we are going in Kalos again I think making a evo based on a French knight or a French sport just makes sense to me and would be a missed opportunity if they didn’t do that. 

[kukyc]

Icons in my Style: Accepting Limited xthesparequeen: ♗

[harrypotter-imaginess]

A/N: I loved doing this one guys, and I hope you love it too. Might do a part 2 not sure yet, as always commissions are still open until 3/10 message if your interested- price list is here

- Okay this is the ship guys this is it-

- This is like Hades and Persephone type of love

- Everyone thinks that Regulus is someone to be feared because of his family, and everyone knows they dabble in the dark arts

- And everyone is so caught up in his family-

- In the estate, and those dark rumors, and their dark magic-

- That no one see’s Regulus is just a boy-

- A lonely boy with no real friends, not really

- It’s worse now that Sirius has been disowned

- He’s got people around him, boys who’s parents are aquatinted with his

- But they don’t really like him

- They just hang around because they want a flicker of his power

- Of that ancient dark magic everyone’s convinced he’s got

- Everyone except you that is

- You’re this beautiful, cheerful, precious thing

- He meets you when you’re lost, looking for the bathroom

- “Sorry to bother, but do you know if it’s down the hall?” You ask, he’s seen you a few times; in class, or around the corridors

- Playing gobstones with your ever growing group of friends

- He would be jealous if he wasn’t so surprised that you’re speaking to him at all, aren’t you a muggle born?

- Shouldn’t you be afraid of him?

- Just like everyone else?

- “It’s in the next hallway, that one is moaning Myrtle’s bathroom” he says quietly

- He watches you nod enthusiastically

- Looks like you’ll be on your way now, probably for the best, he wouldn’t want his parents to know -

- “Would you mind showing me?” You ask

- And it’s awfully pushy, but somehow Regulus can’t turn down that bright smile of yours

- You talk to him so easily, like you’re not afraid of him at all

- And it irritates him a little.

- Honestly, even the professors are a little afraid of him

- Everyone is

- So why aren’t you

- “Do you-“ he stops in the middle of the corridor, and you walk a few steps forward before realizing he’s not beside you anymore

- “Do you know who I am?”

- You must not, that’s the only explanation

- When you find out you’ll go as pale as the moon, and afterward you will regale the tale for your many friends, how you barley escaped the fearsome Regulus Black, right before he was about to curse you with his dark magic.

- But you only offer a quizzical expression and a smile

- “You’re Regulus Black”

- You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world

- It only makes him upset, but he doesn’t know why

- In fact since the moment he met you there’s been this burning irritation lingering in the back of his mind, and he just can’t seem to pin point why

- But regardless of the reason, it seems to be boiling over right now, in an empty corridor in the middle of the night

- “Shouldn’t you be afraid? I could curse you right here if I wanted”

- But the smile on your face remains

- “Maybe, but you won’t” you muse

- He laughs

- “Why because you think I’m afraid getting expelled?”

- Honestly his parents would welcome him with a feast if he came home for attacking a muggle born

- It would be a sign he wasn’t going to become like Sirius after all

- Because that’s the worst thing a person could be according to his parents-

- A blood traitor

- But instead of quaking in your shoes you flash him a quizzical smile

- “Nah, I just don’t think you’re that kind of person” you shrug

- The words echo in his mind long after you’ve said them

- And though he’s looked at you before

- He’s only really looking at you now, the easy way your lips curl into a smile, the sparkle in your eye, the glow around you-

- Like you’re made of sunlight

- Like you breathe life into all things wherever you go

- Like an ancient witch he heard of , heralded as the goddess of spring

- Like Persephone

- Ah, so that’s it

- It’s not that he hates you

- It’s that he envies you

- Because seeing how natural it is to see you do good, makes him hope -  it makes him yearn to be like that too

- To be more than an heir to his family’s dark legacy

- “I could be wrong though” you shrug, you can count on one hand how many times you’ve been right about something

- But still, you just don’t buy that the shy kid in front of you is some evil prodigy bent on destroying the world

- “No” Regulus’s voice cracks, and it’s soft, so soft you almost don’t hear it.

- But your turn to him, eyes jumping from one of the many paintings in the corridor to his pale face

- His eyes seem glossy as they look into yours, and it’s not just because of the light from the torches

- “No, I’m not that kind of person” he says with a bit more strength this time, and you grin

- And while you feel that there’s something important about the moment, you don’t realize the monumental significance this chance meeting holds for Regulus

- “Oh, we passed the washroom” he realizes after a moment, he was so caught up in talking to you he hadn’t realized

- “Ah, that’s okay I didn’t have to use the bathroom anyway” you say with a wave of your hand

- Huh?

- Noticing his expression you get a sheepish look on your face

- “Well I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while, but you’re always with people-“

- Yeah he’s sure his “friends” would give off an especially murderous aura if you ever tried to approach them

- “So when I saw an opportunity, I just took it” you admit with a slight laugh

- “I wanted to see what everyone was talking about when they mentioned the ‘Dark Prince’ “ there’s a teasing flint in your eye, and the nickname alone is enough to make him flush red

- “And what’s your assessment?” he manages to ask, a smile stretching across his face

- “Very underwhelming, I came expecting several hexes and a duel, and all I got was a cute boy with pretty eyes”

- This time he really does flush bright red, eyes trained on his shoes

- You laugh, you were mostly teasing

- But he is quite cute isn’t he?

- What’s everyone so scared of anyway? He’s like a shy kitten

- He watches you walk to a particular portrait, whispering a word before it swings open

- “Well see ya around Mr. Dark Prince” you say, sending a teasing wink his way

- Regulus is glowing red, even when he’s tucked in bed, in his common room hours after the meeting. the mere memory of the words you said send his heart racing again

- “They said I’m cute” he’ll recall with a goofy smile spreading across his face

- After that, things are brighter for Regulus

- You pull him into your group of friends, quite literally

- “I-I don’t think this is a good idea” he manages, catching the terrified glances of passerby’s as you tug him forward by his arm 

- What a sight you must be, the literal personification of spring pulling the Dark Prince  himself by the arm through the castle

- The aforementioned Dark Prince having a rosy tinge on his cheeks, which most of the other students misplace for Fury instead of what it actually is:

- Embarrassment with a healthy dash of attraction to aforementioned personification of spring

- “Nonsense, everyone’s dying to meet you Reg”

- When you use his nickname his flush darkens

- No ones ever called him that-

- No one except Sirius and Andromeda

- He likes the way it sounds coming from you

- And you’re right, your friends accept him into their fold immediately

- “You know any curses?” One of your friends asks, it’s in a jovial manner that anyone could tell they’re just teasing but Regulus flinches

- “No, not really” he admits, not any he’s good at anyway

- He did see his parents do something akin to a sacrifice when he was younger with an alter in the full moon, but he really wouldn’t know where to start with that

- “What about gobstones, you know the rules to that?”

- Regulus nods

- “Well lets play then!”

- Before he knows it, it’s like this was always his life

- Laughing with you in class, games of gobstones with your friends and trips to Hogsmeade on the weekend

- Regulus didn’t know that he was yearning for this

- How often had he wished for something like this,

- A place that feels like it’s full of sunshine, where everyone feels accepted, and no one has to feel sad

- This is the happiest Regulus has ever been

- But all dreams must come to an end

- The end of the semester comes around, and he has to go home for Christmas vacation

- You’re standing side by side on the train platform waiting for the train, your trunk lying next to you

- “You’re not taking anything back with you?” You ask

- Regulus shrugs

- “There’s no point, everything I need is at the manse”

- You’ve always been a bit curious about what the Black manor is like

- Probably something grand, large library’s, they probably have one of those record players with the gold horn thing

- And a ballroom

- It probably makes Hogwarts look like a pile of dirt

- But the way Regulus’ face darkens when you ask him about it tells you that- yes they probably do have a ballroom, but there’s other things too, things that are far less pleasant 

- And when he starts talking about his home life, how it’s worse - lonelier- Now that Sirius is at the Potter’s all the time, and there’s no one around to stand between him and his parents

- He notices your heartbroken expression and rushes to comfort you

- “It’s not so bad, Mum’s got her tender moments every so often and-“

- “Regulus” you cut in, and the sound of his whole name leaving your mouth makes him stutter to a stop

- “You’re supposed to feel safe and loved all the time not just sometimes”

- It’s such a basic thing, but when Regulus hears this, he feels like he’s being allowed something

- He feels, for the first time, he’s allowed to be safe and happy

- He’s allowed to be good

- “Why don’t you come home with me for Christmas? It’s probably not as grand as you’re used to-“

- You fidget awkwardly, maybe it’s silly, the prince, Regulus Black, himself sitting on your worn sofa, holding yarn while one of your family member’s knits

- You can picture it though

- You can picture a big smile across his face, indulging the younger children in your extended family in their requests for piggyback rides and for him to participate in their games

- “I want to,” he says, really the fact that you’re offering is enough, more than he could ask for

- “But I can’t”

- And it’s the truth, after Sirius, he can’t make any mistakes, his family won’t stand for it

- He especially doesn’t want to think what would happen to you if they found out he had been spending all of his time with you, a muggle born

- He doesn’t want to think what curses they might inflict you with

- He doesn’t want you to ever be hurt because of him

- “You’ll write to me?” You say it with the fervor of a demand, and it makes a smile curl onto his mouth

- “Everyday” he promises

- And things are exactly as they always were at 12 Grimmauld Place, his mother is distant, only livening up when one of the other ladies shows up for tea

- His father is squirreled away in council meetings

- His cousins are no fun, not really, and Andromeda’s not around anymore since she ran off with Ted

- He likes Ted, though he would never admit it to his family

- Ted is a lot like you, someone with an infinite amount of kindness

- He wonders how they’re doing

- He wonders how Sirius is doing

- He’s probably happy, he always looked happy when he was with his friends

- And so- with a picture of you discreetly kept on his desk, he writes three sets of letters

- The first is for you, to assure you he’s fine, and live vicariously through your spring, through your lovely Christmas moments and imagine himself there too. 

- The second for Andromeda, to ask if she’s doing alright, and to tell her he misses her

- And the last, is for Sirius

- Asking how he is, and hoping he’s well.

- And to say that he understands what Sirius was saying all those years, in their childhood and then into adolescence, Regulus understands now- 

- And he wants to be good too

[taylors-fourth-cat-meow]

Okayy here is the snippet i was talking about. Well ig it's a lil longer than a snippet but not long enough to be in two parts? I am srry I suck at this? Lol.

Before you go in a couple of things. This fic isn't for you if you hate Tamlin so please go away. I will not tolerate any Tam slander. This isn't a Tamlin "redemption" au it's a healing one. It takes place around 5 years after the first calamnai in Acotar. (Donno how much time it is since Acosf will have to see). Tamlin is very close to the Summer court.

PS: This is just an experiment to see how ppl react to my writing. Like depends if I will continue this (I really want to tho). This is first time I have ever put anything I have written out in the world. So pls be kind ♥️

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Part 1: A Very Wintery Winter Solstice

The thunder cackled sinisterly in the weeping sky of the longest night of the year. Yet that didn't stop the people of the Winter Court to dance and revel in the freezing temperatures. Women with their lavish silk gowns soaking wet, twirled in practiced circles. While the men drank their weight in the corners, admiring their significant others from afar. 

The castle looming behind shone as bright as a fallen star on earth. Down below in the courtyard, the music and laughter roared as loud as the thunder high above. The entire arena painted in every hue of blue and white one's eye could comprehend. The glow of the faerie lights bouncing off the ice like iridescent glass, illuminating the area in an incandescent light. 

 The royal family of the Winter Court were seated on a little balcony overlooking the gigantic compound. As regal and elegant and happy as ever. To a balcony on their right sat the Autumn's heir. Two beautiful maidens half-dressed even in the frigid, tending to him as he nursed an absurdly large glass of liquor. To the left of the High Lord and Lady of the Winter Court was an empty balcony, where the High Lord of Summer and the Princess of Adriata were to be seated. But it seemed the cold was too much for the children of Summer.

And beside them sat the High Lord of Spring, his head laid back, eyes closed and basking in the cold of the night. He had found that he had started to quite like the Winter Court. The hard cold of its weather. He felt a sort of familiarity in it. It's how he felt on the inside. Always. Gone was the sweet, unpredictable wildness of Spring. She had taken it from him. Taken away what made him the Lord of Spring. He mourned it. Not her. Not anymore. But he did mourn himself. Who he was and what he lost. 

The High Lord opened his eyes and looked into the night sky above. The silver moon looked back at him. He had always found it quite interesting as a boy. Always wondered where it had come from, or who had placed it there. What spell they had bound it to, that it only showed in the dark. That is until his mother had told him that it was The Mother's Land. Where souls went to spend unending eternity after their time on this earth was over. Although he had matured enough since then to realise that wasn't true in the least, he still chased that innocence. That time when his mother's word had been the law, and hence he had spent countless hours talking to the moon after her death. Hoping she'd hear him. But not now. Not when the night sky only reminded him of her. Of what she had returned to after she had left destruction to him and his in her wake. To where she lay at night, warm and comfortable and happy after she'd left his people battered and homeless. So now looking at the moon, only brought back memories Tamlin wished to bury deep, deep within. So he mourned it too. 

It's her birthday

It didn't matter. 

"Ta-amlin" a voice called out from behind. 

Tamlin sighed heavily at Tarquin's quivering voice and excused himself back past the curtains into the guest room he had been staying in. 

A gush of warmth caressed his skin as he stepped onto the warm lush woolen carpet in the living room of the gigantic suite. A roaring fireplace sat on the far end of the room, with two armchairs and cushions laid down. A table of dark wood was situated in the centre of the sitting area laid out with liquor, those absurdly large classes and cups of the Winter Court and some tea. To his left lay the bedroom which was accentend in dark sombre colours and he had been grateful for it. He hated brightly coloured walls, definitely unlike his ancestors and their architects who seemed intent on giving him a seizure one day. It had been one of the first things he had done when he became High Lord. Repainted his living quarters. Well, he would be wrong to say that was the only reason, they were covered in his parents blood after all.  

Viviane, it seemed, had taken great care of his lodging arrangements. No brightly coloured walls, no silly vases, no paintings of half naked people doing shit and flying around and a small dish of cashews on his bedside table. 

She had been his friend. Before everything. A very good friend at that. He still remembered the first time he had seen her. A young adolescent who blushed as red as apples almost all the time. He had met her and her family at the Autumn Equinox ball. His first as a High Lord. Though Autumn had stopped hosting soon after their youngest Prince was born. Lucien. He did visit sometimes. But it wasn't the same. Tamlin didn't think it would be. And he wasn't sure he wanted it to be. Not when he could never be sure if Lucien's loyalty secretly lay with his mate's family. 

"Hey!" Tarquin snapping his fingers in front of him brought him back from his thoughts. 

When green eyes fell on the boy in front of him Tamlin pressed his lips together to bite back a laugh. The High Lord of Summer was ridiculously wrapped in layers and layers of woolen blankets and fleece lined shawls, only his opal eyes visible. 

"Are you cold?" Tamlin asked, his eyes twinkling in mischief.

"You think?" Tarquin sneered

Tamlin let out a laugh and guided the High Lord to the fire. It didn't surprise him anymore. Laughing. Smiling. Finding little moments of happiness. He kept those close to his heart. Protected them with all he could because he knew they were fleeting. He made sure they were. He didn't dare be too happy. Because if his 507 years on his earth had ever taught him anything, it was that the Mother wouldn't stand seeing him too happy. She'd take it away. Probably some kind of balance. He didn't know. He didn't care anymore honestly. He cared about very few things these days. One of them sitting beside him on the armchair, his teeth clattering audibly.

"Tarquin, if you are so cold, we can go home." He sighed. 

"N-no."

Stubborn boy.

"Fine." Tamlin huffed. "Let Crueseda go home at least."

"S-she did".

Tamlin held back a groan. "Then why aren't you?"

"Are you serious Tamlin? This is my first Seasonal Gathering as High Lord. I have to stay through it."

The Seasonal Gatherings. Gatherings of the royal families of the Seasonal Courts: Autumn, Winter, Summer and Spring. Each court hosted one every year. On the Autumn Equinox, the Winter Solstice, the Summer Solstice and the Spring Equinox, which was known as Calamnai, respectively. A tradition started almost a millenia ago during the Prythian Civil War between the then known as Northern Prythian (Solar Courts) and Southern Prythian (Seasonal Courts). There was something about partying during wartime. It was a show of power and indifference. And a way fashioned by the High Lords to show where their loyalties lay. His brother, Felix had told him it was a "fuck you" to the enemy. Tamlin had found it utter foolery. This was the first gathering since Amarantha banned them fifty years ago. 

"Alright. But at least let me ask Eris to warm your room up a little more"

"No! I don't want you to ask anything of that smug twat. I don't want him knowing I am suffering"

But Tamlin wasn't listening anymore. He was watching the roaring fire. As the twigs snapped and burned. That sound. The sound of a neck breaking. Feyre's neck. Even though he had taught himself to forget almost everything about her, except what she had done to his people, that damned sound never left him. The blood gushing out of his chest, as he clutched the throbbing wound where she had daggered him. That madness and anger and pure lunacy he had seen in Amarantha's eyes haunted- 

"Maybe we should go home." Tarquin said softly. As though knowing what was going through Tamlin's head. 

Tamlin nodded. He hated it when things like this happened. When he got lost in his memories. Especially around Tarquin and Crueseda. They'd always insist that he should do something about it. Get help. It was a never-ending argument. But, if it made the stubborn silver-haired boy leave before his teeth either fell off or froze, Tamlin didn't hate it all too much. 

And perhaps it's nice being reminded someone cares.

Tarquin stood on his feet clutching the blankets tighter. "I think I will stay at the Willow House tonight. Changing from extreme cold to hot might make me ill. Spring would be a nice reprieve." 

Lies. It takes more than temperature change to make a High Lord ill.

"That would be lovely" Tamlin spoke, willing that aloofness into his voice, his eyes downcast. The perfect imagery of someone broken and tired, who desperately needed to get home. Tamlin didn't particularly like using his predicament to his advantage but the children of Summer could be very very stubborn. "I'll go say goodbye to Viviane and Kalias. You head home."

"If you insist" Tarquin said before winnowing away as fast as he could and Tamlin fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

Tamlin walked out into the corridor but not before silencing the wretched fire with a wave of his hand. 

[husbandohunter]

Stardew Impact [Genshin+Stardew Valley/xReader]

Part 1/3 Kaeya, Diluc

Synopsis: “A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE YIP YIP)

Coming soon...

Albedo and Childe

Zhongli and Xiao

(A/N): So the brainrot was real in this one. I planned to add Albedo for a Mondstadt edition but kinda went overboard so I gotta split this one into parts too. Wordcount_almost 2k spspspsp

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Diluc

• Already has the whole year planned in his head. Literally if Diluc were to play this game, he'd have a booming farm within year ONE. Calm and collected through and through, though the new environment raises alot of questions, as long as you were still with him, Diluc ain't complaining

• The town welcomes you two with open arms. It was all thanks to the attire. Diluc wore his usual dark coat adorned with regal gold while you had a dress made of Liyue's finest silk, one that he bought for you. Needless to stay both of you reeked the aura of rich aristocrats (Mayor Lewis is pleased that greedy bastard)

• Once the farm was permitted to your owndership, Diluc began to think of ways to turn it into a vineyard. He was a businessman afterall. Although the staff back at the Dawn Winery were the ones who tended the field, Diluc still knew a few things about planting due to his childhood days Master Crepus would bring him out to their yard and demonstrated the process of gardening. He still remembers those days clearly, doing the very same this moment with you.

• Occasionally works at the Saloon bar. It was the perfect opportunity. As you took care of the farm side, Diluc continues to look for more ways to increase the income while gathering information from the folks around town. Gus LOVES to have him over, like he's just so efficient and reliable! They soon become good friends saying if Diluc were ever to own a wine stock, he would gladly buy from him.

• This is why Diluc would stay a little later due to just chatting with the people from the bar. One time you walked into the Saloon only to the front desk with Emily alone. Turns out the others were in the other room, too busy playing a game of pool. You decided to leave him be since it was rare to have Diluc so relaxed in leisure activities. Thus in the end, you spent your time chatting with Emily until a whole hour has passed before your lover notices and apologizes for losing track of time.

�� Everything felt like a dream because it was his dream. To live a life undisturbed from chaos, his duties and the dangers that lurk in Teyvat, Diluc grew fond of the domesticity. There was nothing he loved more than to spend his hours by your side, day after day, returning home to your freshly handmade meals.

• Spring: Already up and early planting the parnersnips (I'm very soft for gardener Diluc you see). What do you expect from a workaholic? Even during his leisure time you would often find him near some plant as he does consider this hobby quite therapeutic. But when it rains, Diluc would be standing beside you with an arm around your shoulder, smiling contently as you lean into his touch. He gazes through the dripping window and silently admires the current progress you both made on the farm.

• Between the two annual spring festivities, I would say the flower dance. Diluc is a private man and would prefer to take things where no eyes were on sight. But with a little bit of nudging from Gus (your wingman), he gives in and leads you to the center stage. Elegant. Graceful. The way you two moved together became the talk of the event. Though, Diluc was already used to people staring by now, all he needed to do was to ignore them and keep his focus on you.

• Summer: No blankets in bed. Nope, its bloody hot in Pelican Town. He tends to stay indoors or anywhere with shade, in other words, his work hours in the Saloon increased.

• Diluc always has a nice cold drink prepared for you if by any chance you were to pay a visit after a whole day of labour. It's a habit he's made subconciously as if it would be a natural occurance for you to enter the door. His colleagues would ask him who did he make that drink for? Honestly so cute i cri

• Moments like these remind him of Mondstadt, where he quietly wipes the glasses while listening to you talk. Your voice is soothing. Sun rays peek from the side casting onto the umber tables, reflecting a rich golden light as the radio plays a soft song in the background. It's so peaceful, the town was small hence not many people visited the bar, Diluc came to appreciate this warm privacy (plus no Venti and Kaeya which is a huge pog realization).

• Autumn: Harvest time baby. The kegs are full and the sheds are full of kegs. This season was huge stonks and the house ended up getting an upgrade. Diluc is the type of man who wants to make sure that his spouse wouldn't have to work another day of her life. I reckon this is why he's so ambitious because he wants you to have the best and you deserve the best. (Husband material. Slap a ring on him ladies).

When there was no more work left to do, time would be spend peacefully exploring the woods. While you skipped a few steps ahead as the leaves crunched beneath your feets, Diluc follows slowly from behind. He sees your back but his eyes stares somewhere far beyond whats in front of him: His future. 

It was such a stark contrast to the one he envisioned before. One filled with uncertaintly, blocked by darkness with no silver lining in sight, endlessly wandering as he drags the claymore against the ground. There was never a day in which the Darknight hero wouldn't think of Mondstadt. Leaving the city in the incompetent hands of Ordo Favonious while Abyss Mages continue to lurk fuels him to find a way to return as soon as possible and yet...

"Higher big sis!" Jas tightens her hold on the ropes as you pushed the swing with all your might. She laughs, like a child, it was full of innocence and joy. Later Vincent came in and nugdes you, asking when his turn will come.

"You wanna go too? Alright alright don't worry," waiting for Jas to come down, you lift the boy up so that he was seated safely on the chair, "3..2..1 go!"

He wonders if he could just be a little selfish for once.

• Winter: Best man to have in this season. Every morning Diluc would find himself restricted in movements due to a pair of arms around his waist and legs entangled with yours. Turns out you've been doing it subconciously because he's just so warm (Diluc keeps it lowkey and pretends to sleep longer cuz of it)

~~xx~~

Kaeya

• Haha looks like the portal is gone, guess we'll be stuck forever :)). No kidding Kaeya would be so down to stay here for the rest of his life and the best part is to spend it with you. He doesn't show a shred of concern regarding Teyvat, not like he's easily shaken by events that are abnormal, but you can see that Kaeya is truly and genuinely happy. (You're stunned).

• Oho we also have this marvelous landscape just for the two of us? And a cozy little cabin to go along with it as well? This should be fun~ 

• Of course Kaeya would also know a few things about planting, just the basics since he did grow up with Diluc. When they were kids, Crepus would give each of them their own pots so they can grow their own plants. It eventually became a competitive thing where whoever's plant grows the fastest gets to eat the other person's dessert for a year (no one wins. They end up sabotaging each other which Diluc started first, thinking it'll be funny as a joke).

• You are, and will be going on dates with him. In fact, the amount of dates you two went on increased since then. The townspeople would call you two "lovebirds" since he's practically by your side 24/7. 

• I mean he doesn't have the responsibilities as a Cavalry Captain anymore so what else is there to do?

• Would attend all annual events no matter what season. 

• Evelyn constantly gushes how much of a wonderful pair you and Kaeya make and often is the one who provides Kaeya a fresh bouqet of flowers for him to use as a gift. George on the otherhand just rolled his eyes mumbling something along the lines of "youngsters these days" and "crazy hormones."

• Befriends Pam. Love for beer plus somewhat cynical attitude? They get along real swell! She starts sending some recipes into the mailbox of course saying if yall ever need a hand, let her know.

• Spring: I can see Kaeya be switching back and forth between caring for the farm or taking quests posted on Pierre's bulletin board. He likes to keep things interesting, learning the ways of the new world while also getting to know the people around town.

• Would NOT return Mayor Lewis' shorts in which he found in Marnie's room. It's such high quality blackmail material. Kaeya is currently plotting what is the best way to use it to his advantage.

• He didn't tell you of course.

• Summer: There are no blankets because he is your blanket. Since your cabin was small so was the bed. That's why he has to hold you so that no one falls off when rolling over. Either he hugs you with your nose close to his neck, or your back against his chest while spooning you or holding hands if sleeping on your sides became too much. Yall need a serious house upgrade.

• For some reason Kaeya becomes more energetic in the summer. He lets you rest in the shade while handling the farm work for the time being. If you guys got a pet it would be a cat. Hes the first one to refill their bowl every morning outside.

Another day passes as summer comes to an end, the town’s Mayor invited you and your lover to see the annual Dance Of the Moonlight Jellies. Kaeya being the opportunist was delighted to come along. Locking the door of your house, you follow him down the path and made your way to the beach.

Everyone from town was already gathered by the docks when the sun had disappeared down the horizon. You stood by his side in a space far from the others, watching  the candle boats set off to ride the waves, lighting up a small ray of light for creatures to find. 

“Wow,” your tone almost above a whisper, “If only our friends back home could see this too.”

“Perhaps,” he says. Kaeya slips his fingers into yours and you shot him a curious glance, “But let us enjoy this moment shall we? Just the two of us.”

And there they were. A sea of luminescence radiating colours of brilliant blue with hints of green like a city of laterns floating in a world below. Their image reflects in the star of Kaeya's eyes as he wonders, where would they go? Where would the light lead them? They were so free with nothing to worry, so serene just like the sea and unknowningly, he squeezes your hand. It was a sense for confirmation. One to remind him that this moment was indeed a reality he wishes to keep.

Autumn: Finally a house upgrade and a kitchen!! Because it was harvest season, you guys end up making a set of delicious meals with all the recipes the townspeople gave you. Kaeya can cook since he lived by himself back in Mondstadt. Most of the stuff he learned to make were food that can be accompanied by alcohol though...

• Ahah remember Mayor Lewis' lucky shorts? He found a use for them. It was displayed on the stands during the Stardew Valley Fair (Oh my how did this get here? Must be the wind). Ends up buying a Rarecrow for the farm when Lewis bribes him not to tell this to anyone.

Winter: This was mostly an indoor season for the both of you. With the existence of television, nights would be spent until morning while watching movies at the couch. A blanket drapes around your shoulders as extends to his.  Oh and don't forget the hot chocolate! 

[dreamingofaizawa]

A Dragon’s Bride

Dragon Prince! Bakugo Katsuki x Fem! Fae Princess! Reader

Fanstasy AU

***18+ Fic***

If you are not 18 years old, you are not old enough to ride. Please exit the line and find another. Thank you and have a good day.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, smut, soft to rough sex, light fluff. Characters are aged up, Bakugo and reader are the same age.

Word Count: 4.7k

Author’s Note: So I had this idea after reading other fantasy AU fics, and I just really wanted a soft Bakugo. I know he’s an angry moody mf but idgaf aight? I didn’t wanna get super descriptive with the smut, just cause I wanted it to be more like ‘lovemaking’ than just sex, you feel me? Sorry if the pace is a little weird, I didn’t spend a whole lot of time on this lmao. Anyway, here’s dragon boi Bakubitch.

Enjoy the read~

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As the youngest daughter of the Fae King and Queen, you knew it was only a matter of time before you were put in an arranged marriage. Your eldest brother had taken his Fae wife and would ascend to the throne in due time, and your older sister had already been married off to the Elven Prince Shouto.

Despite knowing you’d need to marry for political ties, you hadn’t expected to be sent off quite so soon. Your 19th birthday had passed only a few days ago, and that was when the news was broken to you. You were to be married to the Dragon Prince Katsuki Bakugo, soon to be the Dragon King, for his parents had expressed their wish to step down as royals rather early for Dragons of their age. 

The journey was rather long, even as you flew with your guards in a beeline to the lands of the Dragons. Throughout the weeklong trip your nerves were building and the mild fear settled into your bones. The Dragon Prince was infamous for his temper and short fuse, his anger always taken out specifically on Izuku Midoriya, the Fairy Prince from his  childhood. Your kingdom had not tied itself with the Dragons in centuries, and this alliance meant the Fae’s history of stubborn seclusion and independence would begin to diminish. This was a mission you could not afford to fail.

The final night camping was the worst. Sleep seemed to fear you, and you tossed and turned, attempting to settle your nerves. But it was to no avail. The sky began to lighten into a dull gray, signaling the coming morning. The guard came to wake you up, and soon you were bathed and back in the sky. Not having slept was of no concern, you’d gone days without sleep before and were just fine.

By midday you’d reached the edge of the Dragon kingdom, and were landing in front of the mountain castle just before sundown. The castle was gorgeous on its own, the face of it being the only exposed piece of the structure with the rest of the castle buried inside the mountain itself. The entrance was large, a platform that no doubt acted as a landing pad for the royal Dragons. Warm light poured from the large arched doorway as the huge stone doors opened as you approached.

You were greeted by the King, Queen, and the Prince himself. You sank before them in a low curtsy, pitch black wings spread out and flattened to your sides in a display of reverence. The King and Queen themselves bowed their heads toward you as a sign of respect, and when the Prince looked away indifferently, the Queen forced the boy down into a bow by grabbing his head and shoving it down, leaving you shocked. 

You were of lower rank than he, so there was no reason for him to bow his head to you. Noticing your confused state, the Dragon Queen spoke. “Rank is of little concern here, child. My son must learn a grain of respect if he is to be King.” With a small smile, you nod in understanding, too afraid to speak. Your nerves were bound to come through in your voice, and you refused to show signs of weakness in front of Dragons powerful as they.

Tonight was one of rest, and there were rooms for your royal guards to rest for the night before they had to make the journey back to Fae land. The Queen insisted you call upon a maid should you need anything, and personally escorted you to your room. Once alone, you took the time to bathe. A warm indoor spring was not something you were used to. Waterfalls were the bathing pools of choice in the Fae kingdom, though the warm water was welcome after your long journey. Soon you were in a nightgown and fast asleep in a warm bed of furs.

The next morning a maid came to wake you, and you were dressed by several handmaidens. The gown you wore was simple. A soft grey, long and flowing, with the fabric bunched at your shoulders in a sleeveless style and a low-cut back to accommodate your wings. You were escorted to the dining room, and you took the time to memorize parts of the castle.

The table itself was shorter than you expected, with only three seats on the longer sides and the usual single seats on the ends, already occupied by the King and Queen. Prince Katsuki sat to his mother’s right, and you were led to sit on her left, directly across from him. For the first time, you got a good look at the boy. 

Unruly ash blonde hair framed his face, which was chiseled and defined. His deep red eyes seemed to burn and glow like embers, and you had to look away from the intensity of his gaze on you. Your eyes were drawn to the exposed skin of his arms and collarbones, the muscles rippling underneath. You’d be lying to say he wasn’t incredibly handsome.

Through breakfast the Queen asked about your kingdom and its customs, and personal questions on how you felt about this alliance. You gave simple answers, having been trained to respond to such questions. She then walked you through the day, explaining how you’d be spending a lot of time with Katsuki not only for today, but all the way up until the wedding, which was set to take place in six months. The Prince scoffed at the idea.

“Why the hell do I even need to marry her? Why can’t I go find someone I like? I’m sure she’d rather marry someone she likes.” The Queen let out a low growl that could only be from a Dragon, directed toward her son. Her voice boomed through the hall. “Hold your tongue, boy. This alliance is important to both our kingdoms. You’ll do well to remember that.” He went silent with a snarl. She then turned her attention to you with a soft smile, the harsh edge gone from her voice.

“My apologies, dear. He can be...difficult. I hope your union can teach him some humility as well as respect for others.” With a soft smile, you nod. “I understand, my Queen. I pray I am not a burden to the Prince.” She chuckles and shakes her head as if you’d said something extremely amusing. Breakfast was soon over and you were left to spend the day alone with Prince Katsuki.

It was a rather difficult day. The Prince refused to speak, only voicing any irritation or anger he had for something he’d noticed. You were mostly quiet, in fear of angering him and possibly spoiling the union. He didn’t address you at all, and most interaction was awkward, but that was to be expected. You didn’t know each other. The King and Queen left the kingdom on a trip that was to last up until the week of the wedding, leaving you alone in the castle with the prince.

The first few weeks were relatively the same, little conversation between you and the Prince, silent meals, him angrily grumbling about one thing or another. You began to wonder if this was how life was going to be with him. It’s been nearly four months now, and he only ever addressed you briefly when he commented on one thing or another, though he was less angry lately. Tonight you lay awake in bed, stressing over whether or not you’d end up ruining this alliance. 

Sleep refused to come, and you decided rolling around in bed would do you no good. Silently, you stepped out of your room and padded through the castle aimlessly. Eventually you ended up on a lone balcony at the face of the castle, far above the entrance and off to the side, jutting out from the cliffside. The chill of the night air made gooseflesh pebble your skin, but you welcomed it. It had been a while since you’d flown.

Wrapping your night robe tight around your body and stretching your wings, you stood on the railing and leaned back, falling into the open air and sailing into the night sky. You missed the wind rushing past your feathers, whipping through your hair. It was cold, but it made you feel free and light, away from the pressure of the marriage and alliance. Little did you know a pair of red eyes were watching you from a more hidden balcony.

____

You were absolutely beautiful to him. Katsuki watched as you floated on the air. Your dark feathers barely catch the warm light from the castle, giving them a slight glint as they ruffled and moved. He watched as you darted up into the clouds, pulling your wings in and spiraling up through the thick barriers, then falling back downward with your wings stretched out below you.

You were mesmerizing, and he hated how quickly he’d grown fond of you. At first he thought you were some stuck up princess, like the Elf Prince Shouto Todoroki. But he was proven wrong rather quickly. You were intelligent, your opinions sound and logical, the complete opposite of him. He was rash and emotional, and he knew it. He soon came to respect you, though he couldn’t figure out how to speak to you for the life of him. He was always more a man of action. Words were not his forte.

But as he watched you in the night sky, he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. He wanted to fly with you, to dance with you through the air. He wanted to touch you, your skin, your feathers, even your horns. He’d never seen a Fae before, only drawings from books. Though those images were put to shame next to you. Your grace seemed unmatched, even compared to his mother, who was just as rough around the edges as he was.

He’d be embarrassed to say he observed you more than he had intended to. The way you walked as if you were floating, how you held yourself around others. Your posture was regal, poised, and yet full of humility and compliance. You looked like you understood your place in this world, like you knew why you were supposed to marry a Dragon in an arranged marriage instead of being able to choose who you loved.

His thoughts drifted as he watched you, and he found himself wanting to fly with you more and more as time passed. Unlike you, he could sprout his wings whenever he wanted, and soon his large leathery wings were fully formed, ready to lift him from his perch. And that’s exactly what he did.

____

You were so distracted with the rushing wind you didn’t notice the figure approaching you until you felt the air whoosh behind you unnaturally. Swiftly, you turned, and found a pair of glowing red eyes focused on you. Both of you stayed there, flapping softly in the wind to keep steady. He was the first to break the silence.

“It’s a bit late for you to be flying, Princess.” His unusually soft tone of voice had heat rushing to your face. You sputtered out your response, partially from his words, partially from your nerves. “I, uh, I’m sorry, my Prince. I had no idea that…uhm… that I wasn’t allowed to fly this l-late.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, clearly amused. ‘Cute’ he thought to himself. “I didn’t say that, Princess. Just that it was rather late for you to be awake.” More heat flooded your face at his teasing tone.

He tilts his head, indicating for you to follow him, and he flits away, landing on the balcony you’d leapt off of. You were close behind, and landed next to him as his wings vanished into his back. A large hand was extended toward you and you took it, a bit hesitant, as he’d never engaged this much contact before. His warm hand enveloped yours, and he pulled you alongside him through the castle.

You cleared your throat quietly to speak. “Apologies, my Prince, but where are we going?” A small smirk graced his lips as he turned to you. “It’s a surprise, Princess. But I promise you’ll like it.” You gave a small nod and allowed him to guide you through the halls of the castle. He led you deep into the mountain, down corridors you hadn’t explored before, and soon you were walking down uncarved tunnels lit only by torches every few feet.

After a few minutes in the tunnels, the torches came to an abrupt stop, and you began to feel uneasy with the looming darkness. As if sensing your hesitation, the Prince turned and squeezed your hand in his. “Don’t worry, I promise I’m not dragging you to the dungeon.” His voice was playful, something you’d never heard from him before. Despite the mild discomfort of the underground depths, you trusted him and let him pull you into the darkness.

Once your eyes had adjusted, a faint glow came from somewhere further inward. He kept walking, further and further down the tunnel, and the glow consistently strengthened until you were sure you’d find the source behind each turn you took. Then he stopped, and turned to look at you over his shoulder. “You ready, Princess?” You nodded almost excitedly, and he pulled you with him around the corner. The sight before you stole the breath from your lungs.

The source of the cool glow was a gigantic cavern, the walls and ground littered with white, green, blue, and purple crystals, all glowing in the darkness, illuminating the space. The high ceiling was dotted with them as well, almost mimicking the night sky. In the center was a deep pool that reflected the light, the crystalline water perfectly still and undisturbed. Your wings ruffled as you took in the sight before you, the reaction involuntary.

In your wonder, you failed to notice the Prince had disappeared from your side. He called out to you once he had sunk into the water, and your eyes snapped over to him, heat rushing to your face in the realisation that he was naked. He seemed to sense your shyness, and let out a chuckle. “Come on, Princess. Won’t you join me?” Slowly, you made your way over to the pool, eyes focused on the steam rising from the water, and away from the very naked Prince.

You sank down to your knees a few feet from him, your wings wrapping around you slightly. From the corner of your eye you could see his head tilt at you, and you were sure he was smirking at your flustered state. With an amused hum, he turned his body away from you, giving you privacy to undress and dip into the water. Once you were in, you settled onto the ledge and hugged your knees close to your chest, your wings hiding most of your body. 

“Y-you can t-turn back around now, my Prince.” He shifted back to his original position, leaning against the edge of the natural pool and resting his arms up on the ledge, relaxing into the hot water. You were still a bit tense, not having been naked around a man before. His deep voice was playful as he spoke. “Relax, Princess. We’re to be married. I’ll see you eventually.” You could hear the teasing undertone and you hugged your knees in closer.

His eyes were now fixed on you. With a small sigh, he moved, and you squeaked as his arms wrapped under your wings and around your waist. He lifted you with ease, and positioned you to be straddled on his lap, face inches from his, strong arms holding you close. His eyes were glued to yours, and you couldn’t hold his gaze. It wasn’t the same intensity as the first time you’d looked at them. This time was a bit different, the burning in his eyes was not from anger.

A hand came up and cupped your cheek, shocking you from the gentle touch. His voice was just as gentle, soft as his eyes trailed over your features. “You’re beautiful, Princess.” Your wings puffed up slightly at his words, and his eyes snapped to them at the movement. “Can I touch them?” The question shocked you a bit, but you nodded, not trusting your voice. 

The hand that was on your face reached out and pet your feathers, gliding down your wing gently. Nobody had really touched your wings other than you, and it was only to clean them. This was a new sensation, and your wings shook lightly as your shoulders tensed a bit. Katsuki’s ministrations froze, and his voice turned slightly serious. “What is it? Did I hurt you?” 

You blinked at him before shaking your head. “No, no of course not. It’s just...nobody has ever touched my wings before…” He seemed to relax at that. Still, his hand pulled away from your wing in favor of holding your waist. He held you closer, and your breath hitched slightly at the close proximity, your noses inches apart. His breath was warm on your face. “You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to hold you close like this, Princess.”

Your eyes widened at his words and he laughed a bit. “I’ll admit, Princess, you’d captured my attention rather quickly. I never quite knew how to talk to you. But I am impatient, and couldn’t wait to hold you.” You were giddy from his confession, and you leaned forward, burying your face into his neck and pressing your body into his. 

Up until now, your focus had been on the marriage and the alliance and making sure it went well. But now, knowing it would work out, you allowed your feelings to come into play. From the beginning you’d been taken with the handsome Prince. Within the first month you were no doubt falling for him. His attitude and personality was rather brash, but he was never aggressive toward you. Sure, he didn’t speak to you, but his actions spoke much louder.

He was a gentleman more often than not, holding doors open, escorting you to and from meals, even occasionally gifting you gowns and jewelry. You’d kept your emotions in check, though you knew by now you’d fallen head over heels for the man. Now, his arms tightened around you and you breathed in each other’s scents. His fingers massaged the skin in between your wings, and your body shuddered. It felt...good. Really, really good. You mewled into his shoulder, enjoying the new sensation.

You could feel him smirk into your neck as his fingers dug into the fluffy feathers at the base of your wings. With a gasp, your wings extended out behind you and fluffed up, all the feathers ruffling as you pressed your body tighter to his. A warmth began to build in your abdomen and between your legs, and you squirmed a bit, unsure what the feeling was.

His hands released your feathers and gripped your hips with a low hiss. “Quit your squirming, Princess. I don’t think I can control myself right now.” His voice was deep, and slightly strained. You lifted your head to look in his eyes, and his pupils were dilating, red irises now small rings. “What do you mean, my Prince?” His eyebrows raised slightly before his lips curled into a smirk. He brought your hips down, grinding you down onto him. 

That was when you felt it, his hardness rubbing against your thigh. A small gasp escaped your lips and heat bloomed from your chest up to your cheeks. He watched as your pupils matched his, irises disappearing into blackness. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips onto yours in a passionate kiss. When he finally let go you were both panting, and he leaned his forehead against yours. “Angel. My Angel.”

His eyes burned into your own as he spoke, his voice almost pleading. “Let me take care of you tonight.” You barely managed to nod before his lips were on yours again, this time hungry and wild. His tongue prodded at your lips and you let them part, let him explore your cavern in a mess of tongue and teeth. Without breaking the kiss his hands grabbed your thighs and began to lift, and your arms wrapped tight around his neck as he lifted you both from the warm water and walked.

You had no idea where he was taking you until he leaned and placed you down on soft pelts. Surprised, you pulled away to look around. The bed was situated behind a mass of towering crystals, hidden from the entrance. The blue glow illuminated the blonde’s face as he hovered above you, highlighting his features. You took a moment to admire just how beautiful he is, before his lips were on yours again.

His hands wandered freely now, groping the flesh at your hips and thighs, fingers massaging the soft skin there as his lips trailed down your neck and along your collarbones and shoulders. A thick finger found its way to your dripping core, and you let out a gasp at the feeling. You’d never laid with a man before, however you had to learn how to please one through books. You wondered briefly if the Prince had any real experience, before your mind was brought back to the moment as his finger pushed into you.

It wasn’t painful, and the mewl you let out let the blonde know you enjoyed it. His tongue attacked your pert nipples as distraction as he pressed another thick digit at your entrance, pushing it into your tight walls. A hiss escaped you from the slight burn, the stretch something you weren’t used to. Nothing had ever been inside you like this, the feelings foreign but pleasurable all the same.

His fingers maneuvered inside you, scissoring and curling and pumping until you were a panting moaning mess beneath him. His thumb dipped down into your wetness before reaching up to rub at the little bundle of nerves, making you flinch with the sudden jolt of pleasure, your wet walls clamping down on his fingers. A tightness built quickly in your abdomen the longer he kept his ministrations, and he leaned up to whisper in your ear. 

“I can feel you gripping me. Cum for me, sweet girl.” His mouth attached to your neck and sucked, adamant to leave a mark. It only took a few more moments for you to fall apart around the man’s fingers, legs and wings trembling, moans echoing through the cave. When you had come down from that high, he pulled his fingers from you and licked them clean, a deep groan pouring from his lips. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, he lines himself up with your core, grasping your hip in one hand. “Are you ready for me, Angel?” Grabbing at the furs underneath you, you nod. “I’m ready, my Prince.” Slowly, he pushes himself into you, panting and growling, jaw clenched hard. The stretch burns, but only slightly, and soon you’re moaning and mewling beneath him. Finally fully seated inside you, his head drops to your shoulder and his arms wrap around you, holding you tight against him.

His breath is hot, blooming over your shoulder and neck, lips and tongue attacking the skin there. He holds his hips still, flush against yours, giving you time to adjust to him. When your walls relax around him, he begins to pump into you, shallow thrusts grinding himself into your walls. As he moves, his hands crawl up your back, fingers tangling into the base of your wings and massaging gently, making you moan out and wrap your arms around his neck.

He keeps his pace steady, but you can hear the strain in his breathing and feel his jaw clenched tightly. He’s holding back, and you don’t want him to. “Please, don’t hold back. I want all of you, Katsuki.” His movements stilled, you never used his name before. Pulling back, he peered down into your eyes as your hands held his face.

“You can have all of me, Angel, if you’ll be mine.” You leaned up and kissed him sweetly, “I’m already yours, my King.” A deep growl rumbled in his chest at your words, “Then you will have all of me.” He pulled his hips back and snapped back into you, setting a quick pace. Your breath came in pants and moans, the pleasure wracking through your body stealing the air from your lungs. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the cave, along with moans and growls and the smell of sex.

His arms held you tighter, fingers continuously digging into your feathers, lips latching onto your neck between heavy breaths. “Mine. My Angel, mine, mine. I love you my Angel.” You moaned out, your voice soft in his ear. “I love you my King. I’m yours, all yours forever.” His pace became erratic, and a hand came between your bodies to rub at the little nub between your folds. Only a few tight circles around it had you cumming and clamping down hard around his length, and he thrust into you hard. 

A few more thrusts and he stilled himself, letting out a deep guttural moan as he spilled his seed inside you, holding your body tight to his. He rolled over, laying you on top of him without removing his length from you. Your wings stretched out behind you, falling limp at your sides once they were relaxed. Katsuki peppered kissed along your hairline, whispering sweet nothings as your breaths calmed.

After a long, comfortable silence, he spoke. “Are you alright, Angel?” You smiled and kissed at his chest. “Never better, my King.” He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. “We should get back to the main castle. The maids will panic if we’re missing.” You giggled at the thought of the maids running around like headless chickens searching for the two of you. With a nod, you sat up, and he lifted you off of him.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and pushed up, but your legs were weak and gave way to your weight. Katsuki caught you easily, and scooped you up like you weighed nothing. After bathing in the pool once more, you both dressed and he carried you with him to his chambers, and you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

The next couple months you spent nearly all your time together. You sit side by side during meals, talk regularly, and spend free time alone on a balcony or in the crystal cave. As you spend time with him, you notice things about him you never would have guessed before. He’s extremely perceptive, smarter than his angry demeanor would lead most to believe. He hates lying, hates secrets and deceit, which showed through when he explained why he was so against the arranged marriage at first. 

The news was sprung on him only hours before you arrived, and he was angry that his parents had kept it secret from him. You noticed he was rather protective and liked skin contact, holding you tight to his body whenever he got the chance. He was thoughtful, his gifts were never useless, always something he was sure you would use and appreciate. Your favorite was the many custom jewels he had crafted for your horns. Some a delicate array of dainty silver chains and gems that glittered and swayed as you walked. Others golden wire, mimicking vines and leaves that twisted around and hugged your horns.

That was when you noticed his infatuation with your horns. He’d touch them often when your head was on his lap, tracing the intricate texture with his fingertips. He didn’t find them grotesque or intimidating like most others did, instead he found them beautiful and magical. He never tried to cover them, always adorning them with sparkling gems and glittering metal to accentuate the deep ebony.

He was curious, constantly asking questions about you, your home, and your customs. You grew to love the man more and more with every passing day, and as the wedding came and went you had no reserved feelings about the union. You loved Katsuki, the Dragon Prince, and he loved you, the Fae Princess. He was your King, and you were his Angel, and neither of you would have it any other way.

[nano--raptor]

Heart’s Desire

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Regency AU)

Words: 1185

Warnings: Romance, courting, masquerade ball, softness and feelings, implied smut, soft and vague smut, kissing, and Bucky just generally being a dream.

A/N: Written for the @the-ss-horniest-book-club for the Regency Theme Day! I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about the era, and I haven’t watched Bridgerton, but I had fun writing this little romantic story anyways. I was inspired by the amazing edit by @nix-akimbo featured in the moodboard, doesn’t Bucky look so gorgeous and regal?

Anyways, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!❤ Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Please note, I do NOT authorize my work to be copied, translated or reposted in ANY way.

18+ ONLY. This post contains mature subject matter. By clicking ‘keep reading’ you agree that you are 18+. Please do not interact if you are under the age of 18.

You smoothed your hands down your dress nervously, taking a breath before stepping into the room and meandering through the crowd. You exchanged pleasantries with some of the other patrons, tugging your gloves higher, thankful for the mask that covered part of your face. It was a nice way to mingle with many of the town’s socialites, a masquerade ball, and while it wasn’t the fanciest events with much of the pomp and circumstance of the royal families, many of the town’s upper and middle class citizens were able to attend. It was a nice escape from the drudgery of your uneventful, day to day life.

A passing attendant with a tray of champagne helped to calm your nerves, and you willed yourself to relax as the bubbles danced on your tongue. Would he be here? It was a silly question; of course he would. You were, however, starting to feel uncomfortable and a bit out of place, many of the other young women stood in groups with friends, or were paired off with other eligible bachelors for a dance. Just when you were thinking of finding a powder room to hide in, a warm hand settled on the small of your back, and you were swept into a man’s arms. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his low voice in your ear.

“May I have this dance?”

A smile spread on your lips as you turned to face him, his other hand taking yours as he pulled you close. 

“James,” you whispered. “You came.”

“Of course my darling, I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to see you.” His blue eyes danced behind his mask, eyes you would recognize anywhere. They seemed to gaze into your soul, as if it was wide open and he could see all your secrets and desires. You smiled, feeling heat creep up to your cheeks, biting your lip, your heart fluttering when he raised your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. 

James led you around the dance floor, twirling you around and dipping you low. A smirk spread on his lips and you knew he longed to kiss you, before pulling you up again, making you giggle. The masquerade dances were your favorite, everyone wore their very best, masks fancy and beautifully decorated, and for an evening it was nice to sink into anonymity, where social classes and family lineages didn’t mean a thing.

It was easy to forget for an evening that you and James weren’t supposed to be together.

From the moment you’d first seen him, you were smitten. If his gorgeous eyes weren’t enough to win you over, his smile was one of the most beautiful you’d ever seen. He made your heart flutter, made you melt the first time he looked at you. He’d kissed your hand and asked your name, and for a moment you couldn’t even remember. Over time you’d grown close, and knew you couldn’t imagine life without him. Your heart couldn’t bear the thought. And yet, the Barnes family was prestigious, you knew James’s father wanted his sons to marry strategically, and your family didn’t make the cut.

James, however, didn’t seem to care. He’d told you one night, in a hushed whisper, that it was you who held his heart, and he would keep fighting to be with you until his last breath. You cried that night when he had to leave. James held a piece of your heart as well, there were no other men for you. He was the only one.

He held you close for the rest of the night, your hand on his shoulder, head leaning against his chest. For a few moments the rest of the room faded away, and you lost yourself in his warmth, his scent. Lost in him was your favorite place to be. 

At the end of the night you snuck away with him, eventually ending up in his bed once again. Here there were no prying eyes, no judgement, no rules. Here you and James could be together, unabashedly, truly sharing your love and passion. His name fell from your lips as he took you apart, showing you love the way no other man had, the way no other man could. And you gave yourself to him, fully and completely. You were his and he was yours.

As you lay wrapped in his arms afterwards, skin flushed and warm, a delightful bliss spreading through your body, he hummed, stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. He seemed to curl even more around you and you giggled, reaching up to kiss along his stubbled jaw.

“What is it, my love?” He was quiet for a moment, quieter than usual, as if thoughts clouded his mind. Just as you were about to shift in his arms and pry further, he spoke, a warm hand rubbing over your back.

“Never have I felt a stronger love for someone than I feel for you. You are my sun and my moon, my flowers in the spring and my snowflakes in the winter. I can’t imagine my life without you.” James pulled away slightly, tilting your chin up so he could gaze into your eyes once more. “I can’t wait any longer and have to ask you, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

For a moment you couldn’t speak, words escaped you as a million thoughts and feelings ran through you at once. Your eyes grew wide and you simply stared at him until everything caught up and you gasped, a wide grin spreading on your face as you squealed.

“James! Yes! Yes, of course!” He grinned back, kissing you hard, a carefree, sloppy kiss, and you wiggled in his arms, squirming even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Oh my gosh. Are you… you really want me to be your wife?”

“Of course,” his voice softened and he trailed his fingers over your cheek and along your jaw, running his thumb over your lips before gently kissing them. “I would love nothing more.”

“But your father -”

“I don’t care what my father says.” His eyes sparkled dangerously, and the smirk on his lips made you giggle. He kissed you again, rolling you over and kissing you deeply before pulling back to gaze down into your eyes again. You reached up to trail your fingers over his cheek now, brushing his hair out of his face and tucking the soft locks behind his ear.

“You know he won’t leave it alone once he finds out. He’ll do everything he can to stop it.”

“Let him try,” James replied softly, leaning into your palm and turning to press his lips against it. “But don’t you worry my love, I won’t let anything happen to you, and I promise you, we’ll have our happily ever after.” Again, he was melting your heart. You smiled, blinking back tears of happiness as you whispered more words of love, and he leaned down to show you again just how much he loved you.

[lightsinthedistancee]

In Defiance of Mere Dreams: Din Djarin x Reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word Count: 693

Excerpt: “We’re family,” you murmur, and all he wants to do is kiss you with this new admittance in the back of his mind. He knows it’ll be even better, that you’ll somehow taste even sweeter.

“Family,” you whisper once more, as if savoring the sound. “And something more.”

A/N: More Din softness! Hope everyone enjoys 💕

Previous | Part 3 of Vulnerability | Next

Din had never thought he’d have a family.

He’d had far-fetched dreams, lonely nights stained with a hint of guilt as he wished for a touch. He’d had nights filled with doubt and disbelief that anything would come of his dreams.

Yet he’d never thought he’d have a family.

His dreams were visions of haziness, barely out of the reach of his clarity. Simply an imagination that sometimes slipped past his walls, bringing an addicting, vague sense of happiness and pure peace.

Yet in defiance of dreams solely destined to be dreams, he is here, leaning against the side of his ship, you reclined with your head on his chest. The world’s made of green and blue and something indescribably fresh—a planet he’d found to stop on for a day.

Mountains lie in the distance, hazy and regal, like paintings he’d seen in his past, two-dimensional, somewhat unreal. Fresh mountain air runs cool in his nostrils, the first cool air he’d felt in years.

His helmet had always come off in enclosed rooms, in the lifelessness of hyperspace, in strictly self-guarded environments, constrained with paranoia. Now it comes off in the presence of life, an idea that dredges up a certain reverence within him.

Grogu waddles around within eyesight, chasing butterflies and frogs. Din decides it’d be cuter if he were unaware of the fact that Grogu will soon choose to make a meal of those frogs.

You shift against Din’s armor, fingers grasping at the soft grass beneath, verdant and brilliant, small flowers of purple and yellow among it ready to break free in spring—lushness to compliment some newfound feeling in his life.

You chatter on and on about your family, of fond childhood memories he’d never experienced anything close to, yet he patiently listens, zoning in and out of interest and absence, even though he adores the sound of your voice. His mind is elsewhere.

“I’ve been without a family since I was a child,” is the statement that leaves him abruptly in one of your pauses, borne from his bouts of absence. It takes you off guard in a brief moment of guilt.

He can feel a falter in your disposition, a drop in your relaxed mood. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel—“

“No,” he quickly responds, tensing up briefly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just…”

His voices trails off as he glances around the place, finding resolution in his wandering mind. A feeling of safety in a person, a feeling of comfort in a presence—it’s all suggestive of a distant feeling buried in murky waters of the past, shining through with a frightening, yet exhilarating, brilliance.

It’s a feeling that seeks out missing familiarity, one that had whispered in his mind since he was a child, haunting and addictive—find me.

He has a moment of intuition in which he thinks it’s been found. In you, in the child, in whatever he wants to believe is set for the future.

“Din?” Your weight leaves him. You’re sitting up now, eyes trained on him. Although it’d been months since you’d seen his face for the first time, a small part of him still cowers in the feeling of pure exposure.

His words, so sparingly used throughout his life, refuse to change their mannerisms.

I’ve been without a family since I was a child. He blinks a few times, lips beginning to part before closing once more. And now?

He knows what he feels now. What remains is the lurking fear that you won’t feel the same.

“The kid…he’s my son….” Din lets out a breath, praying that you’ll understand, that you’ll save him from this sensation of vulnerability like you always do. “And you….”

Your features seem to soften as an understanding shows itself. He intertwines his fingers with yours as you give him a single nod of reassurance.

“Family,” you murmur, and all he wants to do is kiss you with this new admittance in the back of his mind. He knows it’ll be even better, that you’ll somehow taste even sweeter.

“Family,” you whisper once more, as if savoring the sound. “And something more.”

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