#(( SHE AINT A MIND READER (mostly) ))

[satkru]

Caked up Male!Reader getting hit on and felt up by his classmates at Jujutsu High.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 2nd yrs and 1st yrs x m!reader (w a FATTIE)

꒰ঌ ໒꒱ : zhellas bby.. ur reqs have my SOUL on a leash 😭

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ : m! reader w a big ol booty , (kindve??) oblivious reader , free-use reader , these students got NOO SHAME 🙏🏽‼️ , booty grabbing , booty slapping , groping (basically) , nsfw jokes abt the reader, i HATE panda so dont expect him to be here

YUUJI - ��

y'all know yuuji aint the type of guy to let a perfectly good ass untouched, hes a literal FIEN for ts. so it wasnt a total surprise whenever yuuji was around his hand would sometimes (if not always) near y/n's voluptuous ass. his hand on one cheek gripping the ever living shit out of it. he just couldnt get enough of how circular it was and how it jiggled every time y/n walked.

before training, itadori would slap y/n's ass as a "good luck charm", as if the boner in his pants would help him in combat..

MEGUMI - ✦

fushiguro is the FARTHEST thing of a pervert, but when it comes to y/n.. god he just cant handle himself

hes very shy with his actions, mostly due to the fact that if he let himself get handsy with you, he'd go absolutely FERAL.

just the slight wobble of y/n's ass is enough to boggle megumi's mind and keep him busy for the next 2 hours.

but nevertheless, megumi is still a sane and sensible person around y/n, although he can be seen stumbling over his words whenever he does get the chance to talk to him.

NOBARA - ✦

goodness me.. nobara doesnt know how to keep her hands off y/n's fat ol booty..

she thinks she can excuse herself because shes "just a girl and girls can always feel up their friends butt whenever they want to" (her exact words) of course, because of her totally convincing tone, y/n doesnt think anything of the close and personal touching nobara does.

nobara LOVES grabbing handfuls of y/n's ass and wobbling it in her hands. making sure to take in every jiggle it produced.

INUMAKI - ᰔ

y/n is EXTREMELY lucky inumaki isnt such a freak, cs if he was, he would be commanding him to make it clap every second of the day.

inumaki isnt as handy as the others are, in fact, hes the most calmest of the bunch. but he does have his moments where he just cant help himself and starts to mess around with y/n. such as commanding him to grab something off the floor even if he was the one to drop it in the first place.

seeing y/n's arched back and his ass swaying back and forth just makes inumaki go into a frenzy. wishing he could act out everything hes ever thought of doing to you.

MAKI - ᰔ

LORD.. maki has absolutely ZERO shame in her body when it comes to y/n's fat ass. shes constantly hitting on him and fitting both of her hands around y/n's juicy and perky booty.

shes constantly making sex jokes between her and y/n and even goes behind to give him some "practice backshots".

maki makes absolute SURE that y/n's ass is constantly in perfect condition, even going as far as to carry a measuring tape to keep data on y/n's ass to see if it has grown or not.

definitely safe to say that she is very.. VERY... dedicated to the research of y/n's voluptuous booty..

YUUTA - ᰔ

im tired of ppl trying to play yuuta as a "sweet summer child", this man is DOWN for a BIG, JUICY FAT ASS like y/n's.

although he does get a bit nervous when hes around y/n due to his ass being so big it can make him hard just by one small movement.

yuuta is always taking the chances to feel up on y/n's bottom. if hes lucky enough, y/n will give yuuta special permission to lay his head of his butt.

which, safe to say, has made itself a special memory inside yuuta's brain.

[carbonfiction]

Hii - What would it be like if Frank dated a reader who was too oblivious when it came to affection? - like, after sex she always pulls away and goes to sleep far away because she can't stand the heat, not because she doesn't like Frank or physical touch, but because she's sensitive to temperature, sometimes touch, sometimes food selectivity.

Ooooh!! Now this is a really interesting thing to think about, i love it! Some of my favorite things to write is the different ways Frank cares for his partner sooo.. Heres some headcanony thoughts!

Warnings?: mostly soft and fluffy! Aftercare with obviously indescriptive mention of smut!

So I do feel like many of us frank writers say this but i genuinely see frank being so perceptive to these kinds of scenarios!!

Much like the actual sex, frank is always keeping track of what you seem to like or dont. And while at first Frank might be a little confused the first few times you pull back from him post sex, seeming to drift into your own bubble on the other side of the sheets, he absolutely would pay mind to the fact people need different things.

Its completely normal and natural that something that works for him in the come down, doesn't always work or help you and vice versa! So he looks for a bridge.

Frank would watch. He'd silently learn every little thing you reach for or even pad around to collect and add them to a mental note.

Slowly he'd start leaving bottles of water, perhaps a soda, maybe even some candy or treats you like, around the bedside tables. Simple but easily accessible things.

Taking all the tasks you had often gravitated to from your hands with a soft kiss pressed to your hair and a gentle "Hey aint gotta move yet..you stay there, i got it", "second drawer down, got you a couple of those candies you like" or even "you want your usual snack or feelin somethin different today sweetheart? Whatever you want"

I also believe frank would take great care with the clean up in this situation- infact it almost becomes a replacement of the close contact physical touch (actual cuddles and whatnot) if you often feel too overwhelmed sensory wise for it!

With a grumbled stretch of his muscles he's treading to the bathroom (still completely bare) and, depending on how intense things were, grabbing a pleasant temperature flannel or running a bath.

With the correct temperature flannel option hes cleaning over your skin as feather light as possible- a task for his usually heavy handed fingers. One that had taken you time to let him accomplish alone. Spit, slick, cum, sweat- anything and everything that could even begin to make you feel anymore overwhelmed or uncomfortable. Pushing your hair out of your face and hushing "almost done babydoll, i know..", "anywhere else not feelin comfortable?" and "still feelin too sensitive there sweetheart? Yeah? Alright, ill go more gentle kay? Tell me if its too much"

While with the bath hes carrying you- no if or buts. Frank will even put a shirt on just to do this if thats what you'd prefer than the press of sweaty skin. But nothing is stopping him from picking you up from that bed like a trembling legged baby deer. "Ready? Up we go, theres my princess" or "lets getcha nice n clean yeah? Made a real mess a' ya didn't i"

If you rather him help then he's absolutely going to- leaning over and cupping water over you hair, massaging in your favorite products, soaping over your skin with body wash and prasing every inch. Practically smothering you in warmed towls after and helping you dress (if thats what you'd rather do than remain bare)

Otherwise he'll give you the time alone if thats how you prefer it, choosing to change over the sheets so everything feels nice and fresh for you to nap. Perhaps even finding some movie or show you like to help lul you off.

But all in all hes taking your cues and building off of them, each situation unique to you. And like.. Frank doesn't mind in the slightest. He just wants his girl comfortable, content and taken care of; your needs are not any trouble to him.

A lil bonus thought- Perhaps you get a fan (or a blanket if you run colder) so you can indulge frank for a moment. You dont think of it a big deal when you set it up, frank never had for you so..why would it be? But It becomes the first time you've ever seen him just completely melt, the flutter of his lashes slowing as he blinks, the grumble of half asleep snores rumbling against your skin. The occasional compromise feeling even better than sex somedays.

Sigh.. You guys i love writing domestic, boyfriend frank. Its like drugs to me- Hes just everything, my beloved guy <33 more more more!!

[liliewrites]

So reader is childhood frnds with both arle & clervie(we can't forget this girlie), but like reader has this talent that lets her blend into the background with no one knowing like she's even there. This trio literally stick tgt everyday like if someone sees 1 of them they know the other 2 aint that far behind. So reader & arle had this obvious crush on each other(not that they r gonna say anything but its so obvious to eveyone who saw them cus they r kids). Reader then got sent to Fontaine from Snezhnaya to snoop around for info (this is b4 KingMaking). So while reader is snooping for info, KingMaking happens as canon & arle tried to find reader after she became a harbinger cus like she lost clervie alrdy & she just wants to know reader is still safe ya know. But like obviously arle couldn't find cus reader's talent of 'blending' works damm well. So arle got transferred to Fontaine for the gnosis, happened to find reader by 100% coincidence while on a walk, grabbed reader, carried her all the way to the hearth, had a VERY long conversation about what happened & decided to finally confessed to reader about the crush that has never fade despite being separated for so long.

💫anon

HALLLLOOOOOOOO 💫 ANON:DD i hope i do ur ask justice n feed all of u the good ol' slowburn n mutual pining w arlecchino:DD eat up!! also, i changed smth a little bit for the sake of the plot if u don't mind, but overall, it shouldn't make too much of a difference! tyy for requestingggg!! i feel like this isn't my best portrayal of arlecchino though huhuawkajdwas

-warning/s ; maybe ooc, clervie's death mentioned.

-pairing/s ; arlecchino x fem!reader

(men please dni utc!)

peruere didn't know what to do.

peruere didn't know that the last word's clervie to you would be "byebye, y/n! make sure to come back home safely, okay??"

peruere stared at her hands with an absent stare, her mind in full delirium as she just realized the atrocities she'd just commit. the children of the house of the hearth has fallen- and she was the only one left.. along with you. knowing her mother, she knew what she had done to clervie would eventually happen to you.

she wasn't going to lose you too.

thankfully, you were currently absent from the scene- as "mother" had assigned you on a mission somewhere within teyvat but she knew as soon as you came back you'd be suffering the same fate as the others if she didn't act soon enough.

her mind finally met with clarity, she picked up her sword- the very same sword that bore her sins against your friends and siblings.

the next day, you heard what had happened back at.. home. the house of the hearth was no more.

peruere had been arrested, mother crucabena had been killed by peruere. you didn't believe it at first, but when you also heard that the rest of the children had died a year prior to crucabena's death- you knew peruere had lost her wits at the last minute.

you were disoriented for a moment, unsure of what to do now that you had nowhere to come back home to, but you mostly worried about peruere. you thought of what they would do to her, you didn't want to lose her too. she's all you had left.

with a heavy heart, you never went back home. you had no choice but to use your ability to blend in within the street kids of sumeru, just so no one would recognize you especially the fatui agents that roamed the streets from time to time. you spent a few years within the streets, taking advantage of your expertise in the field of gathering information with your stealth and earned yourself a living off of it.

however, you just couldn't shake peruere out of your mind. constantly, she was on your mind like a nail lodged in your head. especially when the full moon had gleamed upon you it's blessed and gentle caress and had brought you comfort, did peruere witness it's beauty? or was she as lonely and lost as the moon in the vast darkness of it's own solitude akin to her own isolation within the confinements of her prison cell? it worried you greatly.

after a few years, you'd caught news of the newly appointed harbinger named arlecchino whom had inherited your "mother's" title, the knave.

there were different rumors that surrounded the harbinger, but they all pointed to her committing a massacre, calling her the "poor, mad and cursed" knave.

your chest thumped, you had a strong feeling you knew it was peruere yet you couldn't confirm it yet. you haven't seen any photos of the new knave, except for the fact that she's been stationed in fontaine within the newly rebuilt house of the hearth.

confirmed or not, you knew it was her-- it had to be. so you had immediately began to prepare for your trip back to fontaine with haste.

unbeknownst to you, said harbinger had been looking for you first thing when she had gotten out of prison. she knew you would have fled fontaine entirely as she had intended, but was also aware of your proficiency when it comes to hiding your identity. she knew it would be hard to find you, but she still carried on. she couldn't let the kids handle this, lest she could risk the freedom you had now from the life of being a fatui (which she hoped you had). so she could only hope, if there really was a deity out there that would hear her, that you were safe and alive and well.

you were, in fact, safe and alive and well. now you were taking your first few steps into the city of fontaine. when, honestly, as a child you've never been able to experience the city despite spending your childhood within it's region. "mother" had never let you leave the orphanage, not until you were "of age" to join the official ranks of the fatui.

you looked around, mesmerized by the people and their lavish clothing. the weather was much different from sumeru as well. despite not growing up within the city, however, you caught whiffs and scents of your favorite cakes from your childhood. truly, you may or may not be fontainian by blood, but at least you were by heart.

you spent the first few days, getting yourself to blend in within fontaine's society. you were still afraid and wary of the fatui, especially with how strict "mother" was to you which formed your impressions of the organization. eventually, after getting a place to stay, getting accustomed to the city and dressing yourself in the same clothes as them- you could now officially, once again, call yourself a fontainian.

however, the reason why you came here in the first place was still on the very top of your head, you had to see peruere no matter what. you kept your eyes open for any signs of her monotone colored hair. you kept your ears alert if you'd catch any drift of her name, peruere or arlecchino, to no avail.

you let out a sigh, feeling unsuccessful. you weren't about to give up, but decided that you should rest and call it a day. it was getting late, so you had gotten up from the bench you were sitting on to go and head back to the inn you were staying at.

.. then suddenly, you had been robbed of your sight then consciousness.

your eyes fluttered open, but your eyesight had been blurry. the first thing you've realized is that your feet was off the ground and you were being lifted up on the air. your fight response kicked in, and you had tried to wriggle your way out of your captor's grasp.

"let go of me-"

immediate silence. you knew those eyes as she looked down at you. just from her look alone, you knew she had sent you a warning to stay silent.

but that wasn't the reason why you were still, it was because of those those x shaped pupils of hers that bore into your soul that you've come to love.

".. p-peruere? is that.. you?"

she froze for awhile, before continuing on walking.

"later. we can't talk here, keep your face hidden."

you nodded, returning back to your tucked position as she carried you in her arms. you could feel your heart thumping, beating- you've never felt this way since you've last seen her.

once you've arrived at your destination, you noticed that she's brought you within a building. a private study room, it seems. she carefully placed you down on the couch, before sitting on the chair in front of you. you've finally had a full view of her, and both of you had eyes full of shock at the sight of each other.

you were the first one to shatter the silence, immediately tearing up and throwing yourself in her arms. for a while, she awkwardly placed her hand on your waist. you couldn't help but let out a fond chuckle. after all these years, she still acted as if hugging was an alien thing.

you leaned back again, sniffing. she's definitely went through a lot. the apathetic look on her face was much more hardened, more sharper. she looked intimidating, especially with her upright stance and poise of a full fledged military officer. which in her position's case, she was.

she reached out to grab your hand. feeling you, touching you, as if to make sure that you really really were alive and in front of her.

see, the knave was not one to show emotion since she was a child, and you knew that.. but the way she acted now, it bothered you.

".. what happened? where have you been?"

she asked, pulling away from you to regain her composure. her voice was much more deeper now compared to a few years ago. you couldn't help but blush at the sound of it. the way she talked, it lacked warmth, she sounded stiff and stern.

"me? why ask me- what about you?! you're a harbinger now, pers!"

you exclaimed, causing her heart to still for a moment as you called her by that affectionate nickname she hasn't heard in a while. "i'll explain to you, sit."

her way of speaking was much more commanding, more authoritative, but it didn't scare you. rather, you were astonished at how much more polished she's been after all these years.

you sat down next to her, listening to her relay to you the past events that have happened while you two have been apart. she spoke in such a way that she sounded like she was reporting a mission or an assignment, making you feel amused even more as you listened to her speak.

your peruere has really grown up a lot, hasn't she? it made you think that you were wrong, maybe she's not peruere anymore. it made sense, she was called arlecchino now. it made you feel like you've truly lost her forever.

"i see. i'm happy to hear that the tsaritsa has pardoned you, our tsaritsa is truly blessed.." you muttered, looking away as you sighed. arlecchino noticed the melancholic twinkle in your eyes, causing worry to stir within her. "is there something wrong?" she asked, yearning for you to look at her again.

she wouldn't say it out loud, but she missed you, dearly.

you were silent for a few seconds, before letting go of her hand. the look in your eyes made her feel dread-- dread at the thought that you now hate her for killing clervie, for killing "mother", for destroying the place you had once called your "home".

arlecchino was used to being called a monster, a murderer, a freak by many and she could take it.. but from you? oh, it tore her apart. she felt like she'd truly lost you for good.

you looked at her, wanting to ask her if she was still your peruere.

she reached out again, wanting to make it clear to you that it had to be done to protect you.

"do you loath-" "-my peruere?"

both of you had talked at the same time but arlecchino heard your words loud and clear. she just had to hear it again for confirmation. "..pardon?" she asked, blinking at you in confusion.

slightly embarrassed at the thought of being a grown woman whom still referred to her affectionately as "your" peruere after all these years, you really didn't want to ask again, but you needed assurance.

so in a smaller, more hushed voice, you asked again.

"are.. you still my peruere?"

".. you don't hate me?" she asked, a bit dumbfounded that out of all the things you could say, that was the first thing that came our your mouth. it should've been obvious that she's yours, she always has been and she always will be.

"why would i hate you, per- arlecchino? you're my best friend..!" you exclaimed, a bit dumbfounded for her to think that you hated her. you weren't blind to "mother's" ways of raising children. it would've happened either way.

you started to tear up a little, calling her arlecchino felt bitter to the tongue. you've waited all these years, looked for her high and low, and now that you've seen her again.. it felt like you were facing a different person.

all the fears that had built up within arlecchino through all these years had drifted away. you didn't hate her. you didn't resent her for killing clervie. for ruining everything. she was glad that you were still the same woman she loved.

she pulled you in for a hug, albeit a bit awkward, she pulled you in as close as she could. "of course. of course i'm still your peruere. just.. refrain from calling me that in public." she told you, wiping away your tears with her hand.

her hand- her hand, oh archons! "pers, what happened?!"

you exclaimed in horror, grabbing her hand and carefully examining it. you knew of her curse, and it seems that it has taken over her. "worry not. it's been years since the curse had fully manifested, i am fine now" she reassured you, then, holding your hand in hers.

".. did you mean it when you called me yours?" she immediately asked after, looking down at your intertwined fingers. her thumb swiping against yours in a soothing manner.

"why of course, pers, you're my best friend!" you told her, your cheeks becoming flushed as she held your hand in a rather.. more affectionate manner.

"no, no. what if i wanted you to call me yours in a different way?"

she then looked up at you again. her eyes were filled with conviction, with a subtle hint of desperation and enamor. "i'm a woman who's dull to the concept of loss after having witnessed many losses and failures.. but you, i've lost you once. i cannot bear to lose you again. please stay, mon amour." her voice wavered for a moment as she held on to your hand tightly. "please, y/n." her face did not show it, but with the longing stare in her eyes, the way she held at your hand. she was devastated at the thought of losing you again.

your heart broke at the sight of her. you knew, she was still your peruere. within your presence, arlecchino was gone. within your presence, she is peruere. the same one whom would eat your favorite cakes with cakes with you, the same one who would cling on to your shirt as she followed you around, the same one who'd let you use her as your blade in a fight even if she knew you were capable of fending off on your own. arlecchino wasn't asking you to stay while professing their love to you, it was peruere.

you smiled at her, leaning in to lean your forehead against hers.

"of course, pers. i'm here to stay. i've found you again, i'm never going away. i'm glad to be home." you whispered, feeling that familiar warmth from her presence that you've come to know and love. "home?" she asked, a bit curious as to what you meant. "did you mean the orphanage? the current house of the hearth is much different from what we've grown up to, mon amour." she told you, your heart fluttering at her calling you that way. "no, silly. i mean you, pers. no shelter nor place can compare to the warmth and safety that you provide." you muttered and arlecchino let out a soft sigh.

"is that so? then.. i'm glad to be your home." she closed her eyes, basking in the moment of having you near her after so many years of separation. "then i am proud to be the one you call home. for as long as these flames course through my veins, i will always keep you warm and safe." she mumbled as you closed your eyes as well, relishing in the long lost comfort you've longed for.

"still.. i'm happy that for once, my flames have brought a different feeling than fear.." "yeah.. we still have to work on your hugging though.. seriously, pers. you're bad at hugging!" "what- can you blame me? i was never one for affection!"

[charlieluver]

𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒚

(Ben Shelton × singer!fem reader) Word count: 750+ Warnings: none Part 2 Divider: @firefly-graphics Ben's talk. Ben's thoughts ✭ Y/n's talk. Y/n's thoughts

24th January 2025

Ben Shelton was struggling. The first set was gruesome, that led to a tiebreaker. His confidence was being broken, little by little, as the game progressed. His journey of Australian open had come to an end, with the Italian defeating him in straight sets. Ben replays the match in his head while cooling off on the bicycle. He reflects on his performance, a pang of sadness filling him. He shakes his mind and starts cycling faster. shit I could have won that "Ben, relax now and introspect tomorrow, you know the drill" his father say, patting his back. He nods at the advice, his pace back to a comfortable one. His mind, now lighter, subconsciously replays the past day's events. Being in the bar, drinking, you. I wish she came today to see me

He opens his phone, and to his surprise, sees a celebrity blue tick dm. It was from you. His heart raced, like a teenager all over again, before he opened the message.

Y/n_muzics: You played well today, dont be too harsh on yourself :)

Ben smiled, the muscles of his face sore. He typed out a quick reply before hopping off the bike, getting ready to go to his hotel room.

Ben_shelton: Too bad you weren't there

⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎

One text from him led to several replies from you, updating about your lives , so different in all the ways imaginable. Conversations moved out of instagram, entering the messages, which were meant for close people, right? You both talked more than just about your days, about life in general, sharing each other's hardships and difficulties. Ben managed through different timezones, a text or a message always avaible at your end, just to keep you in touch. It felt that coming after a long day, all you need was just a small message from him. As the weeks passed, the texts were now replaced with pictures, voice messages about the silliest things Ben saw while practicing or about how horrible your manager cooks. Ben has been winning matches, you congratulating him on his every win, mostly through a funny cat gifs that he loves. But this night, it was different. You were deciding on which gif to send, but you being you, called him by accident. You yelped, phone lying on the bed as you tried to cut the damn call. But your hands froze midway when his deep voice filled the room. Sup, somethin' important?

I-I'm sorry, this was by accident. I really didn't mean to. You see him laugh, briefly licking his lips. gosh he will be the death of me That means you don't wanna talk with me? I'm hurt man Your eyes widen. No no, that isnt what I mean-

I know, I'm just messin' with ya. Kill yourself Ben you laughed, earning a chuckle from him too. And congratulations on the win, again, like usual Thank you m'lady. Couldn't have done it without your prayers Sure definitely he surely knows how to make my heart race

And the conversations flowed smoothly, most of the times with him pulling your leg or you teasing him about how he only wears singlets to get attention. Cmon now that aint true, I get so sweaty and the last thing I would want is the sleeves sticking to me. He smiles that cheeky grin of his. Sure, so just play shirtless Why you so excited about that? your cheeks flushed, hoping that it doesn't get caught by the facetime camera. I'm not you eyeroll and from your periphery vision, you could see him shaking his head. You both ended up staying in the call for the whole night, like the countless times you both have done before. I'm falling for him harder She is just so caring, I might be falling for her. But does she even like me? ⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎ "So Ben, who would you want to invite in your box?" the UTS interviewer asked him. Um, not really sure y'know, I mean I love Central Cee so prolly him and also Y/n, she's amazing and yea just love her in general "Oh, Y/n should be aware of this" Ben laughs, adding Yea she should, text me when you see this Y/n we gotta make arrangements

Ben looks at this interview, the comments opened under this post.

bennylover: omg is y/n his crush now?! user_tennislover: Look at him being so smiley when she talks abt her sheltonfan: @y/n_muzics girll you got to see this

He scrolled through the comments a little longer, gif of your smiling face being spammed by so many people. Only she doesn't know that I like her, what an irony

woo this was sitting far too long in my drafts i guess I got a little carried away with the colours :))

anyways i hope yall like it!

more stories

[elliesbm]

Mine, Yours, Ours Pt.2

Ellie x fem!bunnyhybrid!reader x abby

Tw: No thoughts just pure fuck

Cw: omegaverse (kinda), hybrid!reader, Pet play? collars, G!p ellie and abby, Suggestive themes? Smut!

Pt.1

Even with the cold air pricking at your skin you still felt hot. As Ellie rides her horse- whose name you’ve learned is shimmer- you hang onto her, your grip tight around her abdomen. You relax, basking in her warmth even though you feel as if you’d melt any second. But then you feel shimmer come to a stop, and Ellie lets out a breath as she continues through Jackson’s walls, guards nodding at her as a welcome back before closing the entrance.

You take your time and examine the large town filled with bustling streets of lively people, but you notice something. There aren’t any other hybrids, you look around in slight panic at the fact there’s no one else like you. Unlike Jackson, the WLF base had dozens of hybrids, trained and put under the care of only the most trained and trusted worthy soldiers. Although there are untrained hybrids, they’re mostly just there for emotional support and “company” or just for soldiers who wanted a challenge with training their own hybrid.

Thats how you ended up with abby, she had wanted to challenge herself and train her own hybrid, so when she went to get a Hybrid after finally proving herself worthy and spotted you, she did everything but what she originally wanted to do when she got you. Instead of training you to be the strongest guard hybrid, she spoiled you rotten. She went out of her way to get anything she thought you might like when she was out on patrol, hell, she went to different hybrid supply stores just to find the comfiest highest quality collar for you. You were her baby bun, her pretty princess that she showed off and showered affection on with joy.

And you loved her, relished in her affection and showed her nothing but obedience in exchange. You were always on your best behavior with her, and she’d always praised you for it. She would reward you every time you behaved- oh how you loved her rewards. ‘Abby grinned as she looked down at your whimpering form, she had you pinned to the bed, hands gripping your thighs pushing them even further to your head, she had your legs folded till your knees reached your shoulders.

Her throbbing long fat cock had you weak, her pine and rain scent already had your mind clouded but this? Her cock resting atop your dripping wet cunt- that continued to clench around nothing- the sight of the tip hypnotizing you, it aimed straight at your face. It stared at you as if taunting you, it’s tip dripping with precum, landing on your glistening cunt adding to your wetness, making you even more needy then you already were.

Abby smiles noticing this “barley even touched ya n’yer already dripping for me. J’st a slutty lil thing aint ya bun?” Abby said with a teasing smile, you whine your cotton tail twitching and ears drooping, your clouded mind wanting nothing but to be plowed by her fat cock. “Abbs pleasss ngh- need ur cock n’me-“ you whined out but were interrupted by Abby entering your cunt in one slow deep thrust, her action causing you to let out a whorish moan, abby smirked, oh how she loved catching you off guard.

She pounded into you nonstop, her fat cock splitting your cunt in half, even though you’ve been fucked several times you still can’t get accommodated to it.

With each thrust of her hip you moan, whine, and chant her name. Her big thick muscular hand pinching and rubbing at your clit as she thrusts, her hips speed up, surely bruising your ass, your thighs too with how hard she’s gripping them with her other arm wrapped around them holding them in place. You’re practically vibrating, feeling as if you’re in an earthquake with how much your body shakes underneath her.

You suddenly let out a loud whine and squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your high coming, you feel abby’s cock pulse and throb and twitch inside you, her cock rubbing against the pulsing walls of your cunt getting ready to blow her load into your womb after making you cum, her hips speed up and the sheer force of her hips against your ass causes a stinging pain, but the pleasure your receiving drowns it out- or maybe the pain adds to the pleasure- you don’t know or care, all you know is that you’re about to cum.

With one final slam of her hips, your ears shoot up, cotton tail tensing as you cum hard, your vision turns white as you let out a deep guttural moan, only for it to turn high pitched when you feel her hot cum shooting into your-‘

“Y/n! Hey, hey, you good bun?” Ellie asked with a worried look on her face, gosh that nickname made you whimper. You hadn’t even noticed you guys got off shimmer and had entered her home. You start to daze off again but ellie snaps you out of it.

“Hey, hey. None of that ya hear me? W’s wrong babe?” Ellie asked before pausing and scoffing at her stupid question,already knowing the answer, instead she grabs you and lays your weak form on the bed getting up to get a cold rag for you, only to be stopped by you gripping her sleeve. “W’sa matter?” Ellie asked, and you open your mouth to speak only for a moan to slip out as another heat wave hits you.

“Fuck..” ellie mutters, “i’ll be back bun i promise.” Ellie says weakly with lust in her voice and gets up to get the cold rag. You whine at the loss of her presence, impatiently waiting for her to come back, and possibly plow you into another dimension.

Next Previous

[night-dazai]

Ex's -FWB (Gojo x Reader X Geto)

Summary: You have dated both of them and fucked both of them individually but what if you get the chance to fuck them at the same time?

Tags warnings: sex, pron with little plot, female reader, vagina fucking, tit fucking, nipple pulling and slapping, stepping on, rough sex, threesome.

I wrote this at 1 am and I am so sorry I took so long for this plus if you find any mistakes, I would like to say sorry and if any mistakes let me know will make sure to correct them in the next works. Thank you.

It was the same normal night, the four teachers and adults sat in your house drinking wine while chatting mostly Gojo chatting on and Utahime arguing back as you and Geto watched like parents.

“I am so used to people arguing I will never find it amusing again, “ you said sipping your wine while Geto laughed “ kinda true “ 

Gojo turned his frowning face towards you, these nights when it is just you guys relaxing he does not wear blind or any glasses “Huh!” he said in a high-pitched voice mouth pulled up in smug annoyance “Well then what will amuse you “ he asked trying to sound like a gangster. 

You and Geto could not hold in the giggles as Gojo imitated his high school self “Well cause I hear this fight same fight as to what series is good every weekend and you still want me to find people fighting amusing or even a bit interesting “ you said shrugging your shoulders.

Geto joined “True, at max annoyed is what we will feel “ he said taking a bite of the expensive cheese. All 3 special grade soccer and one semi-grade 1 all rich people unwinding on a weekend after hard work. 

Utahime wanted to add on when her phone rang disturbing the playful fight seeing the caller ID made her face curl up with annoyance with disgust “That guy..” she mumbled as Gojo took her personal space towering over her head “The great MR. fucked up ?” he said in a mocking tone “ shut it, you aint any better “ she spat at him and cut the call. 

Your conversations were interrupted by Utahime’s phones ringing continuously and after a point she turned it off and in a few seconds your phones rang “Hello?” you asked answering Megumi. 

Your face frowned in anger after talking for a minute “Leave them alone we are coming “ you said and went silent the next second balling your fists you spoke again “She. will. Come “You cut the call. 

Anger is visible in your action “The kids in school are being troubled by your ex, and they are scared to do anything to him cause he is a normal human plus he has been pulling at Nobara and Megumi is pissed “.

Utahime said nothing finishing her glass she took her phone and bag kissed you and Geto a goodbye “ fuck off” to Gojo and rushed out as you shouted “ If you want us , call “ and all she did was wave back before closing the front door. 

The lovely peaceful time you guys have every Sunday is broken “tch” Geto murmured but due to the complete silence, it was heard loud and clear. “Oi, don't get so mad I thought she was your ex? “Gojo said playing with a grape near his lip.

“She is but she is still my friend and that's the guy no matter how much I told her she choose that piece of shit and now the school is troubled “he ran his hand through his thick locks untangling two knots. 

“Well, then have you guys wondered one thing “ you say grabbing their attention and trying to distract yourself from the annoyed feeling “We all have dated each other but still manage to be such lovely friends” Your smile so pure not like your thoughts (for now ).

Gojo and Geto stare at you for 2 seconds blinking and suddenly burst out laughing “Wha..what” you asked confused by their sudden behaviours “Well sweetheart, lovely friends? your boobs are sure my friends “ Gojo said laughing to his heart's content “When she broke up with him I was the one comforting her that night “Geto said smirking. 

You blinked, confused “Is it the wine and beer we had before ? or are they drunk? “ you thought (yep! both are drunk out of their minds , while you still have some rationality left. )  “You are saying you are still close to me cause of my body ?” the answer was obvious but you wanted an answer. 

Was the alcohol getting to your head not sure but you felt hot, geto had his chin on his hand which rested gracefully on his knee “Well not sure what do you think ?” he asked voice oozing with lust “Well I sure am gonna say yes” Gojo said spreading his legs open leaning back. Both were dominating the room and you felt suffocated …but it felt good. 

How long has it been since you were in a relationship? how long has it been since you last touched your pussy? Maybe…

You got up and opened your glass window revealing the beautiful city lights  “The city where we all are, we protect it, we created it and why not show it something new “ you said turning with a sly look. 

You were nervous about what you were about to do, you were so sober you were thinking of excuses you would say in the morning. Having slept with Gojo and Geto individually you know how the fuck you soo good like the slut you wanted to be treated as. 

You removed the knot of your floral frock letting it open like a bathroom “Good thing I wore this dress” you thought. You could notice their smiles getting bigger and so did their eyes scanning you “Why not try …” your bra is removed “ new and “ your panties thrown where your other clothes are “ fun” You were on the floor pinching your nipples and legs wide open “ not interested?” you asked voice low and soft you knew both liked it that way.

Geto leaned back smiling “Well first let's see how the dog wants to be treated, “ he said removing his belt, “What a sight Utahime missed a nice time”,  Gojo said getting up and moving closer to you “Well well this is a sight suguu look at this bitch cunt leaking”. His legs brushed your slit, making you flinch and whimper.

It's been so long it felt so good you pinched your nipples hard when Gojo pushed his foot at your entrance with force “Like getting stepped on?” he kneeled and spread your folds with his hands “Hello been a while since I came here “ he said fingers running up and down but never going in like you wanted. “Beg,” Gojo whispered in your ear got up and went back to his seat releasing his hard cock “Come on here, princess “ 

As you crawled to him on all fours you noticed that Suguruhas already has his cock out and stroking it the tip flushed red “Be a good girl and serve him “ he said leaning back. 

No matter how much of a strong person you were with the curses you had always had someone to take charge in your relationship life, none of your partners could do it but these two did it so well, maybe a bit too well and it affected your work. 

“But what can go wrong with just casual sex ?” you thought and nuzzled your face on Gojo’s tigh “Go on, “ he said as you started licking and massaging his balls. The scent of the dick you missed made your head mushy “Wow you really like this don't you ?” his white hair stuck to his forehead as he licked his lips pushing your head further down. 

Your windpipe felt hot and tiny keeping your hands on his thighs you kept breathing through your nose “Let her breathe Satoru “ Geto’s gentle voice made you open your eyes “ MUH!” you yelped with your mouth stuffed with a dick as your ass turned red under the impact of his hand “ lift “ he ordered. 

You got on all fours shaking your ass as his hands gripped it with a bruising hold “It has been soo long “ he said rubbing the tip on the clit making you see stars. You were throbbing yet having your mouth stuffed itself felt too full now, you tried to push against his abdomen “Nah princess” he said grabbing your hands and locking them on your small back. 

There is not much of a height difference but you did kinda look small compared to them, his tip slipped slowly into you stretching the tight cunt while your mouth was being abused with Gojo’s strong thrust as he searched his high. 

“Ahhh~ so good, you have no idea how I missed this dirty slut “ he said pushing the snow-white strands of hair from his wet forehead “Deeper baby going to cum “ he purred thrusts getting sloppier. Your jaw hurt but little did that matter when Geto was busy thrusting his hips at a rough pace. 

His grip on your hand had you in one place unable to move you just let them take you any way they wanted, mouth drooling with pre-cum and drool, pussy dripping with your cum and juices “Come on girl you have cum once now wait “ he said in a threatening voice sending shivers down your spine. 

“Don't spill “ the white-haired man above you said before shooting his load down your throat. The thick salty substance flowed down your warm neck “Wow, your skills are not rusty at all “ he smirked. 

His long pale fingers snaked to your clit as his friend's dick abused, he started rubbing your clit at the same time while pinching your nipples the calloused hands felt soo rough but yet good on your soft skin. 

“Ge..geto~” you mumbled almost in a whisper “Yeah dear”, his sweat-dripping face with his long black hair loose just made you want to cum on the spot but being the good girl you were you asked for permission “No dear not yet, “ he said at the same time Satour pinched your clit hard making you yelp.

“Come on listen to him “ he murmured rubbing soothing circles making you moan feeling you high close “Please” you begged again “Change “ Geto mumbled and in a second you were leaning back on the chair satour once sat with your legs spread open while your hole is empty. 

You were high lost and the feeling of hands on you lost “Why.~” you asked in a whiny voice “Open “ Gojo ordered pumping his shaft at your entrance “Good girl “ he mumbled going in one go. It was thick and long, you could never get used to it “I am going to get more condoms “ Geto said pulling his pants up again as Gojo just nodded his head in acknowledgement. 

TIME SKIP

How many times have you come? no idea? Pain? pleasure? not sure, no you wanted dick and dick was all you could think, Gojo was thrusting at a rough pace while ghetto used your soft plush tits to rub more of your cum on his dick. 

Your whole body was covered in cum and sweat as the two had their way with you, your eyes rolling back, tongue out hanging while the thrusts did not stop “Focus love” Geto brought you back by pinching your nipples hard. 

At this point they felt kinda painful yet there was a kind of pleasure in the numb feeling you moaned “ she last her voice. “ Gojo asked in a mocking tone looking down at you. After a few more thrusts he shoots his load in, your walls still somehow could clench around him grunting he pulled out and watched “Ohh ~~”. 

Body bruised in purpler and red hickeys and hand marks, cum and sweat covered your soft skin you lay on the carpeted floor panting trying to focus your eyes, unable to they closed as you went into to sleep. Your surroundings are covered in your discarded clothes and used condoms.

Seeing your breath even out both smiled “She must be very tired, fucking her raw was a bit too much I even bought the condoms “ Geto said carrying you in princess style to the bathroom with Gojo at his heel “Well yeah we fucked her good “ he said still looking at the leaking cum covering your cunt and ass in white “ enough we went too rough on her “ his friend warned him as. 

After cleaning you and putting you in your bed “I think we know what we are now right ?” Gojo asked drying his hair “Yeah,  maybe we should have fucked her soon?” Geto asked looking at you with his chin resting on his hands, his long black hair loose “She sure was a good slut “ he murmured kissing your forehead “Good night princess “.

[nanaminsonyfans]

I saw your ask for requests and i desperately want Billy butcher content so I tried to think of something lol. I’m more sure if you like writing series or one shots or whatever but take from this what you want?

The reader has unknowingly caught Billy butchers eye after being at many of the same functions he’s been at for work. Reader also has a hatred of the unjust world of supes and independently has been gathering useful intel but not entirely sure how to use it. Butcher gets suspicious of reader and begins to keep tabs on her, eventually approaching her and perhaps threatening to know what she’s up to/what she’s using the intel for (however you want to spin that). The boys decide she’s a risk and take her back to their hideout where Billy butcher and reader eventually form a bond, bonding over least favorite supes and reader getting teased

Perhaps fragile, innocent (not extreme in the cringe sense) reader. Include some blushing haha

Not the best request ever I’m still tryna get my imagination back.. but would love romance and eventual smut

a/n; this is sorta just a starter? if theres more interest i'll def try a series.

warnings; swearings that's about it.

—

Great Minds

You despised Supes. They were awful people, you learnt it the hard way when you say your mother be killed by one. It was an "accident" Vought said. It was to save others. Homelander blasted through five people to get to the criminal, people sliced in half by his laser beams. That's when you stopped believing that they were "heroes". Sure they were super, but if the face of the supes was a piece of shit, they all probably were.

Now you weren't physically strong, you mentally you were. You were able to gather intel on an arrangement of supes, mostly for people who wanted to get back at them so it was easy to blackmail or sue. You knew the deep dark underbelly of it all. You went to some functions disguised as a reporter, however you always got the sense you were being watched. Not just by supes, but something else, something that felt darker....

One night, you came home from the store, something felt off though. Being in New York where practically everyone was a target for hate, you were armed. You reached into your bag and pulled out a small revolver as you walked into your apartment. You aimed it at the corner where you saw two figures, then there was a click of the lamp being turned on. There was a man in a trench coat and a younger guy who looked terrified at you pointing the gun. "I-I didnt wanna break in he dragged me-!" He says and held up his hands.

"Who the fuck are you two and what the fuck do you want and WHY the FUCK are you in my house!?" You yell pointing the gun between the two. "Calm down luv. Just here to talk." The older man says standing up slowly and throwing a file on the coffee table. "You and I got some of the same interests." He hums, relaxed snd obviously not threatened by you at all. "Been noticin' ya, which ain't good if you want to be unnoticed by supes." "The fuck you know about me." You say lowering your gun slowly. "I know you blackmail them and gather shit. We could use some of your intelligence." he says. You raise an eyebrow. "Intelligence? For what?" He stepped closer, looking down at you. "Against the supes. see you and me want the same thing, to get that cunt Homelander." You snorted slightly at him saying "cunt".

"Yeah? Like you can do that. Some British guy is gonna kill america's sweetheart superhero. Sure. And whats your little mouse friend gonna do?" You ask taking off your coat, no longer feeling threatened. "Mouse...?" The boy says with a frown. "Listen luv, aint like you got a choice." "Excuse me?" "I have a team. It's better for you to join us. We can take down Homelander, and all supes." "Who even are you?" "Billy Butcher." Billy says with a smirk. It all clicked. You've heard of this psycho, crazy about killing supes. You took a deep breath. "Fine. But only because that kid looks way on over his fucking head." "Good choice luv."

[captain-n-crunchies]

My Baby Boo

Yan! Ghost x Black Hoochie mam Reader

( Inspo for makeup and how I beileve she'll kinda look but it just inspo)

Moving from Memphis to the quite little city of Nothern Montana was a pretty start, from my own mama judging my dreams of being a biochemical engineer to my daddy being my only hero against my mama wrath of " All you going to be is pregnant and 23 Y/n! Just get a regular job a nurse or fast-food worker and quit this science shit!" My mama wanted to be a doctor since she was a kid, till she fooled around with my daddy and fucked it up! Now I gotta be the one to get all her anger! I mean if you told 15-year-old me I'd have a Master's degree of Biochemistry with a paid internship!? AND I moved to across the states to achieve my dream only at 25? I wouldn't believe you.

I've being living in the quite neighborhood for a good 3 months before all this shit happened let's go from the day I moved in.

*Flashback*

" Alrighty ma'am you all set, need anything?"

" Nah I'm but, thank you for helping me mister?

" Fred, sugar just calls me Fred"

" Well thank you Fred... You can gon on now"

I guess he was taken backed he just walked away no bye or nothing! His rude ass. Walking into my house I begin to stay unpacking, my bed was a little late gettin here buttt I got my living room and kitchen down so far when I heard a thud

*THUD*

" Now what the-"

*THUD THUD*

" Oh hell nah, MISTER FRED!"

I jog out the house to see Fred sitting on his rocking chair, I asked him about the house and hearing hard ass thuds and his old ass tells me it probably the squirrels scratching.

" Why you ain't tell me that when buying the house?

" Because it wasn't important then! Look the squirrels like peanut butter bye some and put it out to lead them out na"

I just look at him and I turn, and I thought I saw eyes peeking at me, but I just shake it off, and I ask him just to check it out. He heads to his garage for a ladder and trails me to my house only looking at my ass though, fuckin pervert.

" Hey! Go up there and see about the squirrels!"

" Huh- Ok ok I'm goin I'm goin...reminds me of Hellen.."

He climbs up the ladder and knocks on the wood

" Hm, Hey there girlie there ain't no holes for no squirrels up here

" What you mean? I heard a thud twice by now they probably in the house"

" No siree they aint nowhere without a way to get out, you just heard the house settle I'm guessin"

That wasn't no house settling, a house settling is like a creak not a loud ass thud like I dropped something! I see Fred old ass walk back into his house and I just go inside checking every but of the house, strange enough I set my phone down on the counter and it missing? I found it in the living room but I haven't been in there yet?

She's gorgeous... she a doll even! Pretty skin, her teeth glimmers with jewels and that voice so silky yet firm, she looks like Meleesa... my dear! My darling has come back to reach me from the heavens! Has God forsaken my body to never touch her again? To see her walk around for other to touch the skin of deity for everyone to be able to talk to her without a worry she runs and screams from me? I'll make her minds for she was my golden egg, my baby... I hope she still yearns for me in my state.

It's been a hot minute since I heard something and I finally have my place set, it a tiny bedroom but my vanity and bed fills it perfectly! It's about 9 something and I'm watching some movie on Netflix when I feel a chill, getting up to turn my heat on a see a note on my counter

" My baby, has been a long time since I see that smile of your, heard the soften voice, and smelled your devious scent. I see how you look very different from our last meeting, you've filled up quite nicely; later in the night I will watch you again, I will smell your scent and keep wanting to touch you like I once did. Til I met you again- Your Boo"

What type of mostly ghostly bullshit is going on! I look around and feel another chill as I turn on the heat and turn all all the light, fuck my bill I'll be cool! Running into my room I lock my door and turn on all my light and even the tv, I sit in my bed in my shorts and cami and I ask my friend if she can call, I don't know why I keep her around but she answer and I tell her everything including how Fred didnt tell me about the house.

" Girl I told you don't move nowhere that didn't have niggas til the 1700s!'

" Thats not important! What is that I got some Micheal Myers nigga trying get me!"

" Did it say who it was from?"

" No, it was signed My boo, ian have my boyfriend since FAMU"

" He funny at least"

" Now what so funny about me getting stalked?"

" He signed it my boo, and he's a ghost if you didn't see nobody and what ghost say? Boo! He funny!"

I stare at my phone, and I hang up NOT in the mood. I turn on some music and I just distract myself fixing my hair, painting my toes, anything when I heard water running in my bathroom, walking in there I see the mirror fogs with a message, ' She's quite clever dearest, maybe you should listen to your friends' words- Your Boo'

" Ok...OK I GET IT!" I yell getting anxious that some freaky ass ghost is calling me his dearest! MY DADDY DONT EVEN DO THAT MUCH! With this ghost here I run other the bathroom and lock the door to my room, taking the key and I just run to my car. I unlock my car and drove to the nearest hotel and just crash there for a few days, maybe ghost die if it no one to haunt right? As I drive, I heard a chime on my phone, then another, then a flood of chimes and I stop to check; all the messages from the same number talking about how I can't run, I have no one in this city, I have to come home soon, and he'll be waiting...all signed my boo. I turn off my phone and finds a hotel and pays for two nights, only in my night clothes I sleep for the night, and I prayed I still had some clothes in my car, luckily I had a few clothes and some body care, after a quick shower I head to bed with the lights on and my mind full.

How dare she! Has she no care what she leaves with! I show her care I fix the house; I chased Fred away with my bare hands all for her and THIS is my payment! My dearest must forget her punishments were all but nice with me. But I can't hurt her... no not ever again will I drain the life from her body, never again will I force her gaze upon my bloodshed, no... no will I force my hand to bruise a deity's skin. She cursed me that til I let her go I will never pass... I won't let her go, even if she takes her life, I will bring her back, I make her into me! A lost soul wandering this planet, YES! if I make her agree with my love at the next moon I can... NO! Have I lost my mind! Her skin will fade, her bones will break, her voice will turn to whispers... it's not worth it I WONT EVER AGAIN! It happened once and I failed her but it another chance... I will get her back.

Back in this spooky ass house again. It's been a few days week even and I tried to get Fred to check it out but all he does is ignore me, in my room set up camera around the house and hook it too my computer so that I can catch this creep, it was late today 12:45 am it was thundering today, in my room I scroll on my phone with the tv on some movie, I felt a chill... the same chill. I get get up and back to my door looking around

" OK DAMMIT! SHOW YOUR DAMN SELF OR I'LL BREAK MY FOOT UP YA-"

" So violent my love~"

I look around til a feather of a hand touches my cheek, jerking away I turn too see a pale man... see through even with a evil smile and a a stature shaped from God

" Oh my..."

"Hello, my dearest, I hope your aren't too mad at me for our last encounter"

" Who are-"

" As your friend said, your boo~"

It seems you've pasted out, never the matter it will be best your out for the evening. So much to do with a the body you claimed now Melessa... Hello my beautiful baby~

A.N: ( Ouuu not me making a creepy character , i know yall thought I couldn't do huh! I just be writing too yall, I mean I started this at 6 sum and it's 10... like I said Im Shakesphere! But hope yall like this and it more to come from our ghost companion! LOve y'all! MWAHH)

[glumet-shadow]

I have a question/idea for a little angstttttttt and jealousy

Lucian has to be my favorite twst oc tbh, and Cater has to be my favorite og twst character next to Silver ofc.

So let’s say Lucian and reader were friends okay?? Not dating. (Yet at least🤭🤭) and she’s also friends w Cater!!

Her and Cater get along like peanut butter and jelly! Or in Caters case, ramen and spice!!

Eventually, reader confines in Lucian about her crush and Cater and Cater confines in Lucian about his crush on reader!!

Your thoughts for a Yan! Lucian??

(I’m obsessed w Caters new card oh my days-)

ILY DEAREST SISTER OF MINE!!<33🩷

Ps; my sunburns have gotten worse. Idk what to do Aloe isn’t helping!!

Girl i get the sunburns. I broke my wrist in third grade(left, thank god) and had to take state testing and do a dance recital in a brace. Then there was a family reunion but thats its own trauma and i got shitty sunburns. Try an ice pack. And yes omg im doing this. This is the brain shit i need!

Accidentally misinterpreted it as Reader with crush on lucian. Hope you arent upset(will rewrite if you are cause i did read it but my brain is half dead)

---

Yan!Lucian x (female)Reader x Yan!Cater

Thats right double yan baby bring out the f*cking big guns!!

Lets f*cking do this!!

Before this starts please know im not a cater p and he isnt a top fav so ooc cater ahead!

I use you and reader interchangeably

---

So Reader probably was a slight extrovert atleast, being Cater's friend basically requires that. Im just imagining full Wataru(aka extrovert) for reader in this fic.

Lucian is kinda like mayoi or izumi(basically sneaky and stalky bastard) when yandere so yeah. He didnt mind you hanging around his strange upperclassman. Although he was a bit jealous.

He mostly vented to Karter about his crush but when he heard the words "oh yeah hes my type" refering to him he got redder than Leviathan caught cosplaying again.

But when Cater proceeds to say "I think I like her". There may be a repeat in history if Cater doesnt retract his words.

Now its basically a battle for who can convince reader to date them.

---

If lucian wins hes gonna be a prideful asshole. He gonna be flipping off cater every chance he gets. From now on his lockscreen is a collage of reader in various photos. Probably paid rook to take half of them honestly. He has the money for it by the way, just because he lost his country doesnt mean he aint got wealth. Oh also how does reader like towers? Because he would totally keep you just like his birds, trapped and compliant. Although by the time you are in the tower its too late(cause its post grad) and youre cuddly with him. He would wait til his third year to share a dorm with you because Karter makes him miserable with Courie. Not letting you deal with it too.

---

If Cater wins its all over his socials. Probably makes you sleep in his dorm and holds you tight. Love the idea that even normal Cater is possessive with lovers since he has had to claw them away from his sisters since theyd probably try to embarrass him. Not to mention the social media stuff. Its a disaster, never think Riddle is tough until you date cater. Because just imagine how he is as a partner. Cater probably wouldnt comment directly on your appearance in general but would probably try to get you to look decently normal in weight(this comes from someone who is overweight because of a medical condition, dont think like im making cater sound! Yall are beautiful!)

---

Neither wanna share. If I had to pick a winner in this petty fight it would be lucian, simply cause im not a cater fan. He just isnt my type of character. Mostly cause im not that into social media and Lucian even as a yan is a soft cuddler. Yeah im a sucker for soft boys.

[helloescapist]

Hi ! Sorry if this request is a little ehh yk since i aint so good at this but your writing absolutely amazes me so .

would you consider a request kinda suggestion thing thats like . A shinobu x gn reader that where friends (mostly around their training for the final selection) but just after that they just dissapeared completely , but like after 4 years they accidentaly reunite when the reader is sent to the butterfly state for medical attention . kinda hurt comfort yk ? If you dont like it feel free to ignore it !

hello, hello!

Can we talk about how cute moments in the training years with Shinobu would be? When she wasn't tied to the duties of the Insect Hashira, and just allouwed to be fiesty? She would be a total terror on the Butterfly Estate!

Anyways, thank you for your sweet words. <3 I did my best with this one, and I hope it meets your expectations. (I admittedly, may play with fluff prompts of all of the hashiras in their training days because.. it just sounds adorable). I'm sorry it took so long to respond, I wanted ot be sure my research for the weapon and techniques would be useful and insync with one another.

What Remains | Shinobu Kocho

Word Count: 2508?

Setting: Shinobu Kocho x gn!reader [friend fic, but if you squint underlining pining]

Content Warning(s): gore/blood, mentions of death, and depression, minor spoilers if you are not familiar with Shinobus past

Summary: caught in a battle with a worhty advisory and the tilt of fate no longer in your favor, you reflect upon the friend you have left behind in your youth and fears. Regrets that threaten to follow you to the grave. You would do anything to piece back together what remains of the friendship you fled so many hears ago.

A/N: the reader’s staff is inspired by a silambam staff originating from Southern India. I highly recommend looking up the history if you have the time. The inspiration for the original breathing is from the, if you can believe it, mother of pearl (Nacre), the inner lining of shells used by some species of molluscs.

Blood spattered the side of your brow, dripped down the lining of your draw. The tinge of metallic searing your nose, blinding your senses. It had been years since someone had successfully penetrated your barrier.

The weight of your faithful staff balanced between your dominate arm, curled around your forearm and the end pressed against your back. Knees bent beneath you as the force of air shattered your lungs.  Heaved in the sharp breath of oxygen, struggled against cracked ribs, the burden of your weapon beginning to wear upon your body over the extended period of use. The battle had waged far longer than you had anticipated, nor had you expected your opponent to be such a troublesome demon. It had been years since you questioned the reliability of your weapon, and felt the strain upon your muscles. Ligaments strained under the weight. Trembled your grasp, revealing the exhaustion tumbled over your form. When was the last time you doubted your abilities in combat? Pondered the resolve of your might in battle. Your breathing technique had become renowned for its capabilities. Had received praise for being a fortress, impenetrable. Though you certainly knew the limitations of its uses—this had not been the first time you had found an enemy in close range despite the protective field of your breathing. The curl of a growl shattered across your back, the metallic swing, the draw of your staff curled around your sides. The tilt of your hips into the sway, catching the draw of claws that threatened to pierce your skin once more. The iridescent of your breathing technique catching the dying stars of night. The wet grass beneath your feet stumbling your normally tight form, the slick beneath your sandals offered little traction. Ah, no, this had not been the first time someone had penetrated your defenses, distant memories of your younger years toyed in your mind as your body ran on instinct.

She had been small, adorably so. Standing significantly shorter than your peers for her age, her weight provided little substance to her bones. As though a butterfly that had been carried upon Himejima-sensei’s shoulders. Regardless of the way she furrowed. Her scowl noticeable despite her older sister’s insistence to cool her temper, her tongue remarkably sharp despite her age. At a glance, one would assume that the smaller girl had been younger than expected. Teased by the other students for her less than remarkable stature, humorous in comparison to the gentle giant who instructed your techniques. Over saw your manners, and guided you through training under the Demon Crops care. Though, you knew better than anyone as having been a longtime student, Himejima-sensei neither cared if any of you went on to be slayers. Rather, the distant burdens of a forgotten past had strengthened his mentor resolve. Insured that the children under his care would not leave his protection until they were capable of fending for themselves, the tears he shed at those who had departed upon new lives, and the comfort for those who remained—yet, for all of his kindness, this little brat spat out words wielded by drunken adults. The vein upon her brow throbbing as she spat out curse after curse, Shinobu’s temper triggered by the littles of infringements. This time having resulted from another student commenting on her stature, a noted sore spot evident in how she had pursued the source. Slammed him to the ground, crawled on top of him, and flinging her fists in all the might she could muster, only swayed from her assault by her older sister’s obvious disappointment and soothing words. You had begun to wonder if the younger Kocho had a sense of restraint, often pondered how it was two beings so unlike one another could in fact be blood relatives.

                That day had been the final straw for you. Drawn from the disrespect the younger Kocho had once again inflicted upon your instructor, you had challenged her to a match. Her over confidence having met you head on, so sure of herself despite the fact that a rationed bag of rice in the store house weighed more than she had—you knew this, had born witness to Shinobu’s attempts to heave it into the storage before being crushed beneath its weight. Yet, despite the fact that she was nearly a foot shorter than yourself, and severely under her weight class, the dagger wielder had met you head on. Resilient despite the ways you popped her repeatedly. Speed, in practice you had noticed how fast the younger girl had been on her feet. Honestly, it was likely the only reason she had ever gotten the jump on any of the other students, but not this time. The practice stick pressed between your hands, swirled in each movement, any attempts to out maneuver you quickly thwarted with a pop of bamboo upon her cranium. The loss of the match staining her pride, and driving her forward. Training had become a pass time less spent crucifying her peers, but truly immersed in instruction. Her temper only making her slopping and agitated, yet she persisted. Swat after pop, after jab, time after time. Regardless of the way you swept the feet beneath her frame, plopped disgracefully upon her bottom. The sparing matches would wage over weeks. Each encounter drawing your chuckles, for all of her wit and her rage, the younger trainee was playful. Determined, a trait you rarely saw in your peers, and before you had known it, you had welcomed these sparing matches. At times, she would catch you by surprise, and others, you were able predict. Drawing forth snacks to place upon the veranda before meeting her practice blade. The distinct smack of your staff across her cheek resulting in the cool of a pack pressed against flesh. The mumbling of frustration between small pursed lips, and amethyst eyes that glanced at you in her pout, the smile you provided soothing as you offered her a treat.  In time and under instruction, Shinobu would learn to utilize her strengths in battle, and when she had done so, she had become a worthy rival. One quick to seize opportunities, to slip between the cracks your swings. Tumble her small frame against your height, the close encounters drawing the swept of your brow. The triumph of her laugh, upon the smack of your bottom across the ground. The first time she had ever bested you, drawing the joy of hard work, and a ridiculous dance. Her small hips wiggled beneath her hakama. Trembled as she shook her hands together before stretching them to the sky. Proud. She had been so proud, and you found yourself laughing aloud when she offered her hand to your own.

Days of sneaking upon the butterfly estate echoed through your mind. Mischievous kids that evaded duty and medicinal instruction offered by the older Kocho, Shinobu flying over the small ownings, while you lifted yourself through the air with the plant of your staff to the ground. Laughter upon the obvious scolding of kakushi insisting you to return your duties, abandoned to the wind in favor of dango stalls. To hear the Wind Hashira openly scold you, for dodging the Flower Hashira’s care. The whelp upon your heads that had grown in place of his righteous smack, the blush that painted his cheeks when Kanae attempted to sooth his ire. Not that he nor her had ever admitted to such affections, and it never lasted long. The slip of Shinobu’s tongue only eliciting another outburst from the swordsman. Pressed fingers of the older girl keeping him in place, as you dashed down hallways. Weaved past kakushi and slayers alike, snuck castella cakes from the kitchens, and played in the trees of the gardens. Partners in crime joined at the hips through your training years, unafraid to wreak havoc across the Butterfly Estate. The pride Kanae had expressed upon your passing of the final selection. Touched clothes to your cheek, evaluated the strain upon your wounds. Both of your bodies tumbled through thickets of wisteria, rattled against rivals. Pride beaming form your features, equipped to take on the world despite the sting of antiseptic pressed against your cheeks. Prayed for the moment to never end. TO disappear in to the folds of time, to remain upon such happy memories… Her smile. Y-you could remember how Kanae had beamed at you. Accepting, and warm, the night the smile had slipped from her lips. Blood that painted the night air, the chuckle and nauseauty joy of rainbow eyes that elicited humor at your suffering. The loosening of her haori drawn in battle, discarded as a means of escape for you. She knew. Damn it, she had known, the blood drawn, the soothing sound of her voice as though she were comforting a child. Y-you hadn’t been a child! You had a duty! To the Corps, to the Flower Hashira who had requested you for this vary mission. To Shinobu who awaited your arrival at home. Little of your protest mattered. The slam across your head, the fading of the sky before you, and the haori that fluttered over your shoulders before you collapsed to the ground.

                You never got to apologize. How could you? When you had awoken, you had seen the shatter of her tears. The kakushi had founded your body practically discarded in the woods, the haori painted over your shoulders. Unable to fend off the chill of your body. Evidence of the battle, blood marred across the mountain terrain. Shattered over trees, yet, no remains to be found other than your own. Overheard horrors of the night like a ghost upon your flesh. Sickened and nauseated. Pressed between vomit that threatened to spill as your heart plummeted to the grave. The slip of the burdened haori revealing your sins as it sunk to the ground. Your feet eliciting a response before thought. Run. Run. RUN. Tripped over boulders, stumbled over branches, and fallen trees, the distant shouts of kakushi falling upon ears of the dead alone. Heedless of the blood that caught against branches, nor the tarnished of your uniform across your form, revealing peeks of skin as you fled into the day. Fled from your duties. From your home. From your friend.

The staff drawn between practiced hands. Fingers that ached and had become slashed open by opportunistic claws. The growl in your ear, and the fatigue that drew upon your brow. I’m going to die, whispered upon your thoughts. Numb realization as the iridescent gleam that captivated your staff shattered over nails. Colors that faded across the spectrum of a rainbow, glistened in their resolve. Just a little more, you told yourself. The meadow drawn upon little shade, the distant shatter of night in the distance of the east. Colors that shooed away the late hours, and the tremble of large eyes against your opponent, desperate to get away. The shake of your smile as you seized your staff upon their back, entrapping them against your chest. “Fourth Form, Inner Shell,” hissed against your teeth. The revolt of bones, the demon becoming increasingly fringed upon the break of day. Desperate to escape the light, the encompassing of your breath. Draws of color that folded over the two of you. Shattered your bones together in a sickening crunch. Illuminating the last touches of the night sky as blood drew from the force of two bodies forced together as bones snapped. Your fortress utilized as a steel trap. For the both of you.

                Shinobu, I wish… I’m- I’m so sorry.

Voices echoed through the passage of time. Demanded tools, whispered needs of bandages. Imparted details you could not quite grasp, nor completely understand. Details across a series of confusion that blurred your conscious. Ached your headache, and shunned your thoughts.  It, it really didn’t matter anymore. Told yourself it would only be a matter of time before death greeted you, escorted you into the afterlife. No, no perhaps not the afterlife. Unfinished business, your desires to see an old friend once more would likely bind you to the world. Conscious that faded in and out, drifted upon the passing of words. Some soothing and sweet, praising progress though the world seemed dark, and one such voice threatening. Scolding really, dared to reveal any and all obscure details of childhood. Peculiar, and childish. To threaten your youthful fears, regardless of how silly they had been… who would dare? Temper seethed, and… shook your shoulders? Who would treat a corpse in such manner.

Sunlight flittered over the drawings of curtains;  the nauseating smell of antiseptic greeted the flutter of your eyelashes. Your sight hazy as it swept over your environment. Having expected the embrace of death, the warm linens pressed into your surprise. Flowers tucked into cared for vases, bare antique furniture. The numb movements, testing whether or not you had in fact returned to the living, or rather trapped between the state of life and death. The tremble of your toes, testing out their existence. The draw of a white kimono pressed into your chest, the signs of the battle you had endured written across your flesh. Bandages wound tightly over weary muscles. Wrappings drawn across your ribs, snug and difficult to breathe as you attempted to fidget your fingers. Unable to properly navigate their being. Rather, unable to feel them at all. The room… the room far too familiar for your liking, though the thought was difficult to grasp. Distant memories, of laughter, and poorly bound wounds… you had never been adapt at medical care. Glimpses of a past you had left behind wrinkled into your bedding. The press of lavender hair curled upon the white bedding. Touched upon your lap. The telling curl of butterfly ribbon that threatened to shatter your heart caught upon the slightly unraveled curl of dark hair. Released from a bun that had begun to tumble in her sleep. The press of her long eyelashes into the bedding, purple hues that bordered her eyes, the small draw of her breath against your leg. Exhaustion, hours of late work having drawn upon her form. Collapsed at your side, the water basin had grown worm, as the cloth pressed between her strained fist, caught amongst the fingertips of her other hand. Your own hand, having grown numb under her strain. The Insect Hashiras fist trembled beneath her fist as her resolve to cling to your side snagged at the bandages of your fingers. Her pale complexion, illuminating of the moonlight, and the draw of her purple strands the envy of any wisteria branch. The trouble of your smile, tumbled over trembling lips. The met of your brow. To see her once more like this. To have her at your side as though no time had pass. Distant recollections of her poor bedside manners drawing an unsure smile—she had always struggled in that department. The curl of her fingers, calloused and practiced as her resolve. The worry evident in the way she curled into you, refused to release you from her hold. Nor could you bring yourself to part from her grasp.

                Words to spill. Apologies, and confessions. Heart ache, and betrayal, to bridge time lapses, and share had the years had treated you. To apologize—there were so many things you heart longed to express to her.  The soft sigh of slumber, hours of dedication in her collapse. Tears that trembled, ghosts of memories. Her laughter, her smile. Her temper. All of it within reach, and how your heart begged to see all sides of your estranged friend once more. Left with little ability to seize the closeness of yearning, the shiver of your other hand, dared to fumble through her hair. As you had so many years ago, her pride never had allowed her to confess how the Insect Hashira enjoyed having her hair soothed back. Too childish, you had understood, but in quite moments when the hours of study had drawn from your day, and sleep met her upon the veranda, you would comfort her in such ways. Smiled upon the resolve of a woman who was bound by her resolve. The quiver of your eyelashes, and the weight of tears that succumbed to gravity as you fought back the sob in the back of your throat. The curl of her bangs pressed between your fingers, as you tenderly swept her bangs from her brow. Studied the softness of her face, noted how age had captivated some of her features. Whispered prayers of gratitude to the gods who had given you one last chance. The bonds of time wearing upon your heart. You had been given, one more chance, and though you were unsure of how the passage of time, loss, and circumstances had marred your friendship, you could not help but feel relief at the sight of her so close. Within grasp, a friend your heart had desperately longed for all of these years, eternally grateful that she still remained upon this world. The care etched into your bandages, and faded memories offered the opportunity for new life. The opportunity to piece back together what remains of your friendship, or to endure her wrath… Tears that rolled upon your cheeks as you bent down, pressed your forehead to her own. Y-You would plead forgiveness, but for now.. you just..

   I missed you.

[chronically-sawyer-pilled]

TCSM Sissy x Fem!Reader

"Sweet Sugar" Part 5

Part 1

18+, Minors BEGONE (DNI)

Warnings for whole story: NSFW, Murder, Cannibalism, Drugging, Coercion, Slight noncon, Unwanted touching, Abuse, Blood, Knifeplay, Bondage, Kidnapping, Sweat stuff, human faces being worn, pet names (sweetie, sugar, sunshine) general horror themes. This is a work of pure fiction, pure horror fiction - the actions in this story are not to be taken as positive depictions of affection.

"I… How long are you going to hide me?" you whimpered "Oh sweetie, just until I get Grandpa's approval. I'm his favourite y'know. I just need to make absolutely sure you're the one." "How... will you know for sure…?" "Oh I'll know. I feel you pullin' me towards you, like a magnet. I felt it when we first met, I feel it now. I hear your thoughts y'know. The things you think about me. They're enough to drive me crazy." Sissy laughed as she softly grabbed your hands, pulling your wrists together and tying them to the headboard via soft fabric. "Wh…What if I'm not the one?" "If you aint the one..." Sissy got real close, whispering in your ear "Then I'll fucking kill you for deceivin' me." You whimpered in response before Sissy shot you a sweet smile "But I have faith. I have faith that you were made for me. You were made to be mine." She smiled, turning around and unclipping her dress. She discarded it from her shoulders, leaving her only in her underwear. She was skinny, sweaty, but beautiful. As your eyes trailed up her bare back, Sissy pulled her hair from her bun, letting it fall down onto her shoulders. She turned back to face you, revealing her bare chest, a few scars littered her skin, each in different phases of healing. She grinned, giving a curtsy. "Do you like what you see?" She asked, a hint of desperation in her voice "I… I do. You're beautiful." you responded, finding yourself unable to resist staring. You weren't humouring her, she really was beautiful, you started to reconsider just playing along, just biding your time until she makes a slip. Maybe you really were made for her. Maybe this did happen for a reason. Sissy squealed in response to your compliment, burying her face in her hands, jumping up and down in excitement. "Oh Y/N… You are the sweetest damn thing…" She sighed, climbing atop the bed, snuggling into you, squeezing you tightly as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. Her chest was soft, and warm, You could almost feel Sissy's heartbeat in sync with your own. "I'll never say never to always, I'll never say always to none. To seem is to dream a dream my love, cause one is one is one~." Sissy hummed, compelling you to sleep.

You awoke to the feeling of soft fingers trailing your body. It was dark, so dark. Your breath hitched as you felt Sissy's fingers making their way down your stomach, her fingertips were slick, trailing down under your waistband "S…Sissy?" You moaned, still mostly asleep. "Shhh. shhhh. I just want a taste. Just a taste." Sissy whispered, her head still buried in your neck. Her hand explored further, parting your thighs ever so slightly to feel what was hidden between them. Her fingers were curious, poking and prodding at your folds, each gentle poke sent shivers through your body, each touch electric, each stroke agonisingly intense. The drug circling inside of you combined with the exhaustion made Sissy's touching feel almost dreamlike. Sissy's fingers eventually found the spots that made you whimper and buck your hips, and each time she got a reaction she would exploit it further, her breath was hot on your neck, constantly finding the right places to push, until she stopped. Her fingers retracted, making their way to her lips. "I told you, I only wanted a taste." Sissy grinned, leaving you to fall back into the darkness of your mind.

[haruchiyos]

to preface, this is going to be chronologically ordered and mostly a word vomit of thoughts, I apologize in advance

okay, the set up here is amazing. this choice in tragic (but misunderstood) prophecy really brings out the worst in him -- in the best way possible. He's cruel. He's arrogant. He's emotional detached. All this combined with the strength he has to back up that arrogance... mm, this man has me in a chokehold already.

"But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar." "The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow."

What spectacular imagery here. Ugh, also a great example of saying a lot with very little. You also widen the scope of your world for the literal reader through this minor perspective shift, of which demonstrates the manner in which Kaiser is viewed outside of his trusted entourage.

"He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all."

Incredibly cinematic. and wow what an interesting choice in reader. an immortal, ugh I love such promised tragedy that lies even in just their difference of lifespan.

 “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”

HAHAH fucking get him babe

"It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation."

oh the brutality in this statement. Noel is such a great character to reign over kaiser (both within the manga and this fic). You've translated his resolute, impassive, and authoritative aura from the manga and translated it perfectly into this au.

"Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”"

girl this aint about you !!!!!!!!!!!

"“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”"

this made me cackle

Okok anyways, the sparring match was phenomenal. Reader's controlled stillness and kaiser's earnest. ugh what an interesting pairing. It's very difficult to write action heavy scenes without feeling repetitive or reading too "telly" so to speak. But you've nailed the balance off show not tell, as well as shaped it with great flow of diction. additionally the clear power imbalance between the two of them is so great. yes kaiser may be able to best reader in hand to hand at some point in the future, but thats on the grounds that reader is barred from using her magic, which is very much not the case atm. its subtle and I also find it super fucking attractive that 1) kaiser knows / recognizes this and 2) he's not threatened by it. They are such great foils to one another. also the explanation as to why reader doesn't bow was *chefs kiss*

"He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily."

my heart skipped a beat

"“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.”"

oh wow, there is so much subtle world building packed into this omg.

"... Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” "

oh id fucking fold right then and there

"He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean."

this almost reads like prose. great grounding through appealing to the senses (something seldom seen within fics). its vivid. its gripping. its immersive.

HELLO SAE??????? why is it kinda hot that he's a bit omniscient in this scenario. how does he know these things,,,,,,, and when he whispers to reader I got butterflies (I do not usually thirst for this man so thats saying something). Im so curious of how -- like noel -- you've translated his complexities from the manga into your world, what part of his past prompts his coldness and calculating nature in this au like soccer did in the source material? Your grasp of all three of their characters (kai, sae, noel) is so grounded and multifaceted. they feel tangible

"And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you."

I love this moment

""Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.”"

also love this, but for more crass reasons

THE MIHYA MOMENT !!!!!! you can just tell that this is a big moment for him. this feels like a shift in their finally. judging by his reaction, its almost as if he's already addicted to the intimacy of the name

"Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had. "

oh gods hes being humanized. save me please before I fall more in love with this man

"“Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?” "

hes so observant, what a great recognition of agency on his part

not tied to a specific moment, but I also want to point out the risk you took here with how you wrote reader. reader here has a lot of character. there is distinct personality that is not typical to that of the self insert genre. in most cases self inserts are as generalized / neutral as possible to be able to appeal to a wide audience, and yet your reader still feels easy to connect to despite having prominent and unique traits. I applaud you for walking that line so well (also so much forethought to factor in sorceress as a means to identify her, rather than the impersonal y/n or name)

"“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” "

im gonna lose my mind

"He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him. "

so true queen

"You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks. “You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?” "

im gonna lose my mind pt 2

"He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. "

there's that lovely disorganized attachment of his. ugh he's so obsessive it makes my head spin. the yearning is palpable

"For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his"

oh we love to see steps in the direction of healing. "to know and be known" hits hard in general.

"“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”"

!!!!!!!GET HIS ASS

I second the bisexual shidou agenda

"You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you. "

this feels straight out of a publish novel

"His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it. "

another great show dont tell. demonstrating his panic through action/ behavior rather than describing his internal experience/thoughts. very cinematic

"“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?” "

!!!!!!!GET HER ASS. nothing slips past him, he's so observant

" “A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.” "

when his pride extends to her >>>>>>>

"“I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.” "

okay maybe I do like this goddess......

"His voice is soft, as it always is with you now. "

oh what a great way to wrap up his character evolution. the contrast between his brutalist persona at the start compared to this culmination of learned tenderness is a very satisfying payoff. a demigod brought out his humanity

"...And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time. "

oh im gonna sob, how can you hit me with this right at the end

in conclusion, thank you for reading through all my incoherent blubbering; and above all, thank you for pouring such love and time into this piece -- it really shows.

FORSAKEN BY ALL THE GODS.

info: prince!kaiser x f!reader, enemies to lovers, fantasy au, arranged marriage, eventual smut. afab reader w she/her pronouns. reader has an established backstory and is not weak, reader’s appearance is nondescript. reader calls him “mihya” as they get closer. oliver and karasu are bffs in this lol. maybe some angst if you squint. happy ending!! plot is balanced with comedic moments. 

synopsis: You will be killed by the one you love most. That line from his prophecy has haunted Kaiser his whole life. Against it all, you stand before him. Will you be the one to rewrite fate itself?

word count: 14k (please don’t let this scare you, i promise my writing is efficient) 

a/n: this might be my magnum opus, i promise i poured my best dialogue and writing into this and it shows. if you consider reading like so seriously i will love you forever. also the smut is huge just like his cock <3 or my heart

Kaiser has been forsaken thrice fold. First, by his parents. His mother is said to be a beautiful woman that captured the hearts of all. His father could not bear her ultimate betrayal: leaving, causing him to wither away to nothing.

Kaiser guesses that this aspect of her runs in his blood after all.

The second and third time he is forsaken happen at once.

On the night that Kaiser is, by royal decree, anointed successor to the throne, he does as tradition dictates. He approaches the golden temple at the top of a mountain and mirrors the prophet within, sitting cross-legged in front of them.

The prophet gazes into the distance. And then, like a man possessed, they speak.

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will be killed by the one you love most.

Kaiser swears he feels even his heart stop at that. Cold rushes through him, the chill of it colder than anything he had felt at the front lines of war.

Forsaken by all the Gods —

The prophet stops, staring into the distance with a frown.

The silence is deafening. Noa, despite tradition, interrupts the ceremony and approaches the prophet, clicking his fingers in front of their face.

“The prophecy?”

The prophet’s eyes widen with fear. “I- I cannot.”

“What, are you afraid?” Kaiser scoffs. “The prophecy is bad as it is, it can’t get much worse than that.”

“No, I mean I cannot. The — the Fates! They’ve stopped speaking to me!”

“Excuse me?” Kaiser’s scowl is evident, and Noa swears that in any other situation, Kaiser would’ve moved for his sword and set his blade ablaze.

It speaks volumes that all he does is stare right at the prophet, fear barely contained in his eyes.

The prophet grips at Noa’s hand, forcing his gaze. “My lord, please believe me. This — in the history... it has never happened before. I swear it.”

Noa whistles, and the guards outside come rushing in. “Seize them,” he commands, and they stare at each other for a moment.

To seize and capture that  which is considered holy? Is that not blasphemy?

Noa cares little, almost removing his sword from his sheath to do it himself. “What are you all waiting for?”

“My lord! I swear to you!” The prophet grapples towards Noa in spite of their hands being held behind their back, the guards barely catching them from falling to their knees. “The fact that I would admit this at all shows my loyalty to you!” The prophet gasps, breath coming fast.” I could have pretended, could have given a false prophecy. I did not. That’s the choice I made. That is all the proof you need.”

It’s convincing enough that Noa hesitates, taking a deep breath in. But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar. 

At that sight, Noa makes a single motion with his hand for the prophet to be taken away.

The room clears.

“Kaiser, I —” 

Whatever comforting remark Noa might have made dies in his throat, because Kaiser laughs, a bitter and broken sound, that he would in the future rarely have his walls down to ever reveal again. He hides his eyes behind his hand and he laughs.

“Of course, my prophecy would come to something like this.” He drags his hand down across his face. “Forsaken by all the Gods.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Noa says it with conviction, and it’s enough for Kaiser to face him.

“Master?”

“You will still be the successor to the throne. As is your destiny.”

“My destiny?” Kaiser jabs a thumb to the now-empty seating. “We just heard my destiny.”

“What the gods have declared has nothing to do with me. I declare you the next to rule. That is all.”

Noa presses a hand to the crown of Kaiser’s head. “No one will know what transpired here. A tragic prophecy is a given. It is meant to be a trial of sorts, after all. Mine, too, was unpleasant. Though not nearly as dire.”

“What was yours?”

Noa breathes in deeply. “A twisted rivalry with a twisted man. One that was to be all-consuming to me.”

Kaiser scoffs. “A rivalry. Just train and win.”

Noa lets the comment pass, staring out of the temple and past the mountains. “The rivalry came and went. At the time, I felt it was the worst. I could not eat, sleep, or breathe without the thought of what he would do next on my mind. But I was lucky, that it passed.”

He motions for Kaiser to take his arm, bringing him back up to standing. “Yours will pass too, I’m sure of it.”

Kaiser waves his hand, gesturing at Noa to let go of him. It’s easy to say, easy to have faith when it is not your life that balances on the precipice.

Forsaken thrice: once, by his parents. Another, by the Gods. And third, by his own future lover. Kaiser curses the Gods and the Weaver for such a fate, for something possibly worse than death is looming over him.

You will be killed by the one you love most. That line has haunted his very being to this day.

~

The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow.

The prophecy is on a need-to-know basis, and Kaiser has never been crueler. He trains, harder than ever. Enough that when an unmovable sword is found at the rocks of the ocean, he trains until he is able to pull it from the bank, wield it with one hand. Rumor has said it might take three men to carry, or that the night sky that shimmers across it is strong enough to kill even a god. His sole retrieval of it is proof to the people of his strength and stature, but compassion and love are rarely a topic of conversation with his name.  

He focuses on his work. He does not take lovers. He barely sees others as friends. And he most certainly does not take a bride.

~

You appear before the throne and you do not bow. The scowl on Kaiser’s face at this says enough.

“You dare-”

“You have the sword.” You ignore Kaiser entirely, setting your sights completely on Noa.

The silence that follows is as large and wide as the ocean, but your gaze is sharp and keen, never faltering once until Noa speaks.

“Water sorceress,” Noa addresses you coldly, “or that’s what you told our people.”

“Yes.”

“You are not the only sorceress of water. Yet your power is second to none.” Noa stands, stepping down the stairs with heavy, thumping footfalls until he’s standing right in front of you. “They call you the water’s mistress, in the neighboring lands.”

“They do.”

He begins to circle you, like a hunter might before striking a deer. Standing next to you, his deep voice clear right next to your ear, he eyes you curiously. “They’re all wrong, aren’t they?”

You don’t answer. Noa takes that as answer enough.

“A power like that. Do you think me stupid?” He observes you, checks you visually for weapons, watches your hands to ensure you don’t call magic forth.

“Demigod.” He about spits the word from behind you, and yet all you do is tilt your head to catch him in your eye’s view.

“You are as well-informed as they say.”

“I am as logical as they come.”

“We are the same in that regard, then. So let’s get straight to the point.” 

Noa returns back to the throne, seemingly satisfied with his observing, gesturing at you to continue. 

“You have something belonging to me. A sword, heavier than most. Ancient, yet sharp. It is said to look like it contains a night sky.”

“The blade you’re speaking of was found by us, it is ours to keep.”

In the short silence that follows, Kaiser swears there must be irritation on your end, but you don’t show it. Instead, you take a deep breath in.

“The blade was thrown out of the heavens and spat out into this realm during a war between Gods.”

“Is that so? And how can you prove it’s yours?”

“I can wield it, unlike your people, who do not have the means to wield a sword as such.” You state simply.

Like rose grown blue, the impossible becomes possible. You can feel the divinity and the power that comes off the sword in waves the minute it’s unsheathed, your eyes widening. The ring of it is as familiar to you as your own skin, how could you not have felt its presence sooner? But Kaiser is fast, much faster than you expected, faster than he should be with a sword of that weight, that magnitude. Before you can turn your head, cold silver kisses your neck.

“This blade, sorceress?” He comes around from behind you, stalks around you just like his Master had, sword pointed like it may just draw blood from you at any moment. When you finally see his face, his sneer is wicked.

He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all.

“Say we return the sword to its rightful owner,” Noa calls back your attention, “what would you offer us in return?”

“Offer in return? This sword does not belong to you. It is returned, as it should be.”

“This sword, with its divinity, could harm even a god.” Kaiser presses the blade closer to your neck, gleaming metal against your skin. “It protects this nation. What if the gods forsake us? If we return it to you, what would protect us against them then?”

“For what reason would they do such a thing?”

Kaiser barks a laugh. “Of course, there would be no criticisms from one of them. Water sorceress, demigod. Tell us, who are you, truly? What do your people call you, up there? No matter.” He lowers the sword, but leaves it unsheathed, its heavy weight balanced in his palm. A threat that at any moment, he may change his mind. “Those titles mean nothing to me. I have been forsaken, demigod. So know, I trust not even the gods.”

You sigh. Foreseeing a troublesome future has its cons, you suppose. Your queen would smile if you told her such.

“You ask for something with power in equal to or more than the blade. You asked me for my titles. I shall give you both.” The sleeves of your dress shimmer as you move them, and it’s in this moment that Kaiser notices they are not sleeves but water itself, cradled around your wrists like armor. “The Gods had bestowed on me the title Sword Maiden, and I offer myself and my services to you until the end of your line.”

That shocks the room like a bucket of cold water.

You turn to Kaiser, who stands beside the throne. You step forward once, and water rushes underneath that step, descending in waves over the floor as if it goes through it, a magic they have never witnessed prior. “You say the Gods have forsaken you? Let my presence be proof to you that they still watch over you.”

Kaiser scowls, “What sort of cheap trick is this?”

“My domain is truth. I cannot lie.”

“Oh, please.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”

A goddess who cannot lie. Noa’s faith lies in logic, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His gaze flits between Kaiser and you before he seems to settle a decision in his mind.

“Until the end of Kaiser’s line.” Noa negotiates.

Kaiser’s gaze snaps to Noa. “You’re taking her up on this?”

You almost frown. “Fine.”

Noa quirks an eyebrow at you. “That simple?”

“Human lives move quickly.”

Kaiser eyes you curiously. “What happens when you lie?”

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Is that… almost a flustered look you have on?

He readjusts his grip on the blade. “Speak, sorceress.”

“Wh-What do you want me to say?!” You grip at your dress nervously, and that has him even more curious.

“I’m waiting here,” he sing-songs playfully.

“Before the lie can leave my voice, my neck swells up like a balloon, and chokes me.”

He smiles wickedly. “Demonstrate.”

Gods, if it wasn’t immoral, you could wring his neck right now.

You think, for even a moment, a simple lie. And in seconds, you’re almost suffocating on nothing, and Kaiser laughs. Laughs. A full laugh, bending at his knees.

“Oh gods, you’re like a pufferfish!”

You let go of the lie, taking heaving breaths. “Just because I have water capabilities does not mean I am a fish.”

In the midst of the conversation, Isagi leans against Noa’s side, a soft conversation full of worry.

“You’ll have to explain her presence to the council,” Isagi tells him, blue eyes wide with hesitation.

“Right, and your suggestion?”

“I have thought about it, considerably. If you say you hired her, with a force as powerful as her, the other nations may think you are to wage war. So… Given the heir’s… reputation,” Isagi’s gaze flits nervously between you and Kaiser. “If he is willing, she may be a good fit.”

Noa sighs. This, this exact theory, has been a conversation with the other members of his team for months. That a wife by his side would make him seem less chilling, make the transition to a new heir easier on the public, prevent outroar. It is one thing to feel that Kaiser keeps a nation safe, and another to love him as a ruler.

It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation.

“Kaiser.”

He whips around, ceasing his antics quickly. “Master.”

Noa looks like he is about to say something to him, but hesitates, turning to you instead. Isagi nervously steps away from the dais, returning to his position.

“Goddess,” this time, there is no malice behind Noa’s words. “I accept your offer. However, your presence in this nation and in this castle must be explained appropriately. Should I bear you the title of my successor’s betrothed, would that be a title you’re willing to bear?”

Kaiser’s back straightens. “Excuse me?” he utters low.

“You do not have to bear children,” he specifies. “And you do not have to truly be wed.”

A goddess, to be betrothed to a mortal, as princely as he is, is a serious affair. Kaiser slides his gaze to Isagi, with the audacity to even suggest such. And yet, you seem to ponder it like a simple question.

“I see. As long as the sword is in my presence and protection, how you communicate with your nation is none of my concern.”

“So be it, then,” Noa agrees quickly. “I’ll have our people show you to a room.”

You nod, and are whisked away. The throne room, as if knowingly, empties quickly, guards rushing out to leave Kaiser alone with Noa.

“You made this decision for me,” Kaiser spins to face Noa, spits his words through gritted teeth. “I have been clear. I will take no brides.”

“You believe the prophecy made a choice for you.”       

“The prophecy bears no mercy. Or do you wish for my death so eagerly? If so, take your sword out and do it your damn self.”

Noa lets him speak, heave his words out until there’s silence once more.

“She cannot lie,” Noa says softly. “She cannot lie to you, Kaiser. And she is a goddess, a divine being.”

“Demigod,” Kaiser corrects.

“She is divine, and she cannot lie. She is correct, to this end – that as long as she is here, the prophecy cannot come to be. For she has not forsaken us.” Forsaken you, goes unspoken. “She could be good for you, if you allowed her to be.”

Kaiser lets out a canned laugh. “Ha. How can the divine ever understand us?”

Noa stands. “You’ll have plenty of time to find out.”

Kaiser taps his hand against his sword hilt. “You really will not move on this?”

Noa shakes his head. “She is too valuable to lose, and you have a reputation for cruelty. The solution is nothing short of perfect.”

The logical comes above his feelings. Kaiser knows this, even if he hates to come face to face with it.

Noa walks out of the throne room, leaving Kaiser to his bitterness.

“Shitty master,” he mumbles under his breath to no one.

~

It’s jarring to all the guards, the way you don’t even stand let alone bow when Noa knocks to enter your room. But Noa cares little for things like that, if you’re truly offering what you’ve said.

“Perhaps I was too hasty, in presenting the solution before giving you the facts.” He hesitates before you in the reflection of your vanity. You don’t respond, barely even look at him as you unclasp your jewelry, laying it on the table.

“He will not love you.” Noa tells you after a breath, his surefire eyes finally meeting yours.

You give him a curious gaze. “That is likely for the best. I would outlive him, after all.”

“It is, truly, on a need-to-know basis. To tell you this-”

“The prophecy, I presume you’re referring to,” you interrupt, turning to face him.

The shock rolls quickly off him. Divinity does have its mysteries, he supposes. “You already know.”

“I asked the water, why he is so quick to believe he is forsaken. They told me that he lives under the burden of a prophetic trial. That is all I know.” You stand, moving to unzip your dress only for Noa to hastily pull a partition screen across the room and turn around.

“The water, it speaks to you?”

“It does. Though it’s worth noting that it does not make me all-seeing.” Your voice carries over the partition with the ruffle of clothing. “The queen of the Gods, who sees all fates – she is the only one who is truly all-seeing.”

You come out in a nightgown, folding the partition back. He chucks you a robe that you catch easily.

“You should learn the ways of this world if you want to pass as a simple water sorceress, especially before the banquet.”

You frown. “The prince is my betrothed, is he not? Will he not handle it all?”

The idea you present sparks in Noa’s mind. “Brilliant. I’ll have Kaiser and some of the other members of our team show you the ropes. Good night, sorceress.”

You nod to him, and the door clicks shut.

~

“She’s a what?”

Oliver slams his metal cup of beer down, rolling the dice once more.

“A demigod, Oliver. Gods, are you that drunk already? Keep up.” Karasu grabs at the dice as Oliver moves his pieces.

“Can you all shut the fuck up? What happened to need-to-know basis?” Chigiri slinks himself over to their table.

“We’re need-to-know.” Karasu jabs a thumb at himself and Oliver.

“They are, actually, need-to-know.” Isagi puts a gentle hand on Chigiri’s shoulder, settling down next to him. “Because she’s never been human in her life.”

“And now we’re supposed to, what, teach her to be human? Is that a thing we can do?” Chigiri twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, tapping the end against Isagi’s cheek.

Oliver snorts. “What, like a class? Some of us have never sat in one of those, you prissy little shits.”

“She can’t dance, for one.”

“Get Kaiser to teach her. Isn’t he her betrothed?”

That has Oliver almost spitting out his drink, choking on it in coughs. “He's her what?”

Chigiri scowls in his direction. “Dude, are you listening at all?”

“If she’s really his betrothed, none of us should be teaching her.” Oliver warns genuinely. “He’ll cut down everyone here, before he lets us touch her.”

“It’s just an excuse,” Isagi waves his hand, pulling out a leather-bound bind of notes. “They’re not actually together.”

“Oh, you actually got that motion to pass. Shit.” Karasu remarks admirably.

“It must be so tiring,” Bachira sighs happily, falling into place next to Isagi, “to have to actually care about what other people think.”

“The optics, Bachira,” Isagi smacks the end of his pen across Bachira’s nose, and he makes an oh! sound in response.

When Kaiser walks in, the room almost goes silent. He’s used to it, of course. Hearing only the way his footfalls come heavy, boots thumping into the stone floor as a drink is placed right in front of him immediately.

The room slowly fills back with noise as he shoulders off his coat, wrapping it around the chair before sitting. But only his table is still strangely silent.

He flits his gaze over the group. Usually, they’re the first to kill the silence in the room, yelling about the game or a duel. He looks at Isagi, specifically, who seems the most nervous. “Something you wanna say to me?”

“Uh…”

Chigiri sighs, killing the tension. “We’re deciding who gets to teach her how to dance.”

Kaiser quirks an eyebrow. “The demigod?”

Chigiri nods, and Kaiser takes a long gulp of his drink, popping it back down and twirling the top of it with his fingers. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” It’s Isagi’s turn to be shocked, sitting up straight.

Kaiser exhales audibly. “None of you could handle her. She could cut you with water the moment you accidentally step on her.”

It’s not an insult, really. They know this too. That this is Kaiser’s brand of protection, to add insult to injury just to keep others out of harm’s way. But they play his game.

“Think we can’t dodge fast enough? A bit demeaning, don’t you think?” Oliver’s grin is wicked, making straight eye contact with Kaiser, who only draws his eyebrows in at his direction.

“You think that god-killing sword is gonna save you?” Karasu asks.

“I don’t have the sword anymore.”

“What?”

It stings more than it should, he thinks. The sword that he thought chose only him, so quickly released from his grasp. But his strength is his own, he holds fast to that. 

Kaiser glances at Karasu. “Those are the terms. She marries me, she gets the sword.”

Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”

Chigiri scoffs at that. “She’s a demigod. Being down here is probably like being in the sewers to her.”

Kaiser stands abruptly, pushing his drink aside, his coat billowing as he wraps it over himself once more.

“Where are you going?” Isagi yells, but he doesn’t answer.

“He gone for real?” Oliver elbows Karasu. “I’m too drunk to tell.”

“Yeah, man. He’s gone”  

“Great.” Oliver slaps a piece down. “I’ll bet 50 bucks right now they get married for real.”

“What the fuck?” Chigiri tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it might give him some reprieve.

Karasu laughs, “Okay, I’ll play. I’ll bet 20 that they try to kill each other.”

“You’re just a hater.”

“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”

“She’s a goddess. He’s literally already betrothed to her.” Oliver takes another swig. “Y’all ain’t gonna marry a goddess if she was given to you? Damn, put me in his place, I’ll do it right now.”

~

Kaiser trains, every morning, from sunrise to noon.

You only know because most of the rooms in the palace outlook to a self-contained field. You see him, often, because of this, even if he doesn’t speak to you. As you walk down the corridor, in your classes with Isagi about the current climate of the nations.

“It is useless for me to learn this,” you tell him. “In a few short millennia, the border of the nations will undoubtedly change. And we will have to relearn it all again. What is the use? Why war at all over something so insignificant? Just have a conversation about it.”

Isagi makes a pointed, bored expression at you for this, and then pretends like you didn’t say anything at all.  

At the end of class today, you press your elbows to the open windowsill.

Kaiser is there, sparring with Ness. Ness is quick, agile, fleet-footed and runs circles around Kaiser so much so that it almost makes it difficult to keep up.  

Kaiser approaches him at bone-breaking momentum, launches strike after hardened strike. He’s shirtless, bandages wrapped around the bottom of his torso, and his body is streaked with sweat. He’s strong, clearly. Broad shoulders clear now from when they were hidden under layers of clothing the first time you met him, the muscles in his arms flexing and relaxing with each step of the friendly duel, hair dipped in saltwater blue.

You know what he looks like, now. You get a sense why Fate brings you here.

He looks like a hero.

The kind that Gods covet, watch from their merry clouds. It’s no wonder that he’s burdened by a prophetic trial, with a face as cutting as his sword, his hair framing his face and flowing. 

He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily.

You give him the space you think he might be asking for. You turn away.

~

He approaches you one night, just before sunset. Karasu had just finished an etiquette lesson with you, setting away forks and knives. Whatever he sees on Kaiser’s face makes him move quicker. He nods once to Kaiser, and then hastily leaves.

“You’ve been making yourself quite at home here, demigod.” Kaiser traces the lace outline of the tablemat, every ridge under his calloused finger.

“I vowed myself to your kingdom to the end of your life. I’m simply doing what is asked of me.”

“And you’re all ready for the banquet, I’m guessing?” The sentence is almost mocking as he approaches you.

“It’s just a ball, is it not? I’ve been told I’m just to stand there and make pleasantries.”  

Kaiser chuckles, more bared teeth than sweet. “It is, arguably, the worst part of being so-called royalty.”

“You’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”

"To say no to a goddess' proposal would be the greatest blasphemy, no?" 

"From what I've seen, you have not minded sacrilege much at all."

“Marriage means little to me. Disillusioned, perhaps, with the prophecy.” He waves his hand like he speaks of something meaningless. But you see it clearly. Before he had even allowed himself the thought of love, it was taken from him. “Your power is great, your presence ensures the continuation of myself as an heir and successor. Even I can reason with that.”

He's right in front of you now, so close you can feel his body warmth.

“Does it bother me?” He shrugs. “Sure. As far as I’m aware, you are no wife of mine. But a protector of this nation? For that, you are an indispensable ally.”

He looks out the window, towards a coming sunset. Something indescribable on his face, like grief and guilt all in one. He takes a deep breath in and out, inhaling the peace and exhaling the heaviness of his heart, before facing you again. “A war is coming. No one believes me, but I can feel it, as steady as a river’s current. Until then, I’ll make my peace with you.”

You nod. “So be it, your highness.”

That has him stepping back, more incredulous than you’ve ever seen him, body tensed and frowning. Maybe he should’ve expected it, given the way he’s just dismissed you. “Your highness? You hadn’t questioned my lineage before, but now you dare to do so?”

You stare at him blankly. “You are a prince, are you not? Isagi says that’s what princes are called.”

One side of his mouth upturns in relief, and he bursts out a bright laugh. “Is that what they teach you in those lessons Isagi gives? Oh,” a hand runs through the front of his hair, “I thought my own wife-to-be would dare insult me.” 

You scoff. “I have no need for that.” 

“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.” He says it proudly, like fact, like a knowing so deep within him that it turns pride into faith. “A title like that is something used by the Itoshi brothers, let’s say,” he comments airily. “Their throne is carried by a bloodline.” 

He turns on his heel, only looking back when he realizes you don’t follow.

“You don’t know how to dance yet, do you?”

You lean your hip against the table. “I can dance.”

“Come, then. If you’re to be my wife, it’ll be an embarrassment if you don’t at least act like it.”

You follow him to a ballroom – a stunning, wide area with a looping chandelier, curtains that weigh down in arches over each floor-to-ceiling window.

He swoops you from your distraction with a hand around your waist, and the physical contact shocks you so greatly that orbs of water swirl in your hands.

Kaiser only raises an eyebrow at you. “This is a dance, not a duel. Or do the gods do it differently?”

For a man who was so passive to you, he holds you so close that your chest to chest, you can feel each breath he takes against you. When he steps with you, his movements are slow and deliberate, never inefficient. He moves not with fluidity, but with each sure step. Pulls you forward, then pushes you back. Circles you, spins you around.

It’s exactly like when you see him train. Like steps to a kata.

“I thought you said this was not a duel.”

“These are steps to a classic waltz, demigod.”

“You have no fluidity to you.”

Kaiser scoffs. “Should I apologize? With the prophetic curse hanging above me, I haven’t taken a dancing class.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Hm?”

“The prophecy. It doesn’t have to be a curse.”

He stops, separating himself from you, scowling.

“This session is over.”

“Kaiser-,”

“What?” He snaps. “You, of divine nature. You want to tell me how to view my prophecy?”

“I do not say this out of pity, or out of some sort of higher knowing.” You say it with conviction. “As heir to the throne, a throne that is currently being held by Fate itself, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this at all.”

“And yet?”

“To know your fate is to be able to defy it.” And maybe it’s just an effect of your divinity, but it rings like a bell, like truth itself. “Your prophecy may have made a wound, but you are the one who cuts it open. You are a man who wields a sword that cannot, should not be able to be wielded by anyone but the divine. Does that not say something? About you, about your capabilities?”

“And yet you took it from me.” 

The silence that follows is thick with indecision. Kaiser lets the uncomfortableness sit, rejects every heartwarmed statement you make with a roll of his shoulders, like water off a smoothened rock, replaced with only his anger. “I trained for weeks before I could lift that sword out of the riverbank. Yet it is yours, now, simply because you are supposedly its rightful owner.” 

Conflict runs through your face so clearly, he wonders that even if you could lie, whether it would mean anything at all. He watches as your hand reaches into a conjured puddle of water that floats in the air, and out comes the divine sword.

You hold it in your hand with an ease that he has spent months capturing. It strikes envy in him like a branded sear. 

“My role here is technically to secure the sword. I have no need to wield it.” You hold it at the bottom of its handle, directing the top of it to him. “If you swear you won’t lose her, I can set a compromise of sorts.” 

“You think I’d agree to a compromise?” 

You open up your palm, and a bracelet appears. “This will help you keep the sword in a pocket dimension we can both access. If you’re willing to place it there to secure it when you’re not using it, I’ll return her to you until the end of your line.” 

Huh. A safe-keeping place is a more neutral proposition than he had thought you’d come up with. To have her back kills the fight in him, and he accepts begrudgingly, testing the magic in his hands until it becomes natural. 

“For the record, Kaiser, I have not always been worthy of it.”

Something about the way his name slips off your lips has him keening. “Worthy?”

“I stayed true to my course. I was given a title. And then I could wield the sword, presented to me by my queen.”

“Your queen. Heir to the throne.” He laughs bitterly, knowingly. “You’re a princess.”

“Despite your mocking tone, I’ll have you know that title of mine is of the highest regard. I don’t take it nearly as lightly as you do with yours.”

“That’s why you didn’t bow or kneel. You take what’s meant to be yours without a second thought. Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” He flicks a finger between your eyebrows. “What a spoiled thing you are. Can you even fight?”

Something in Kaiser takes pride in the way you frown more deeply, it’s almost like a pout. It’s almost… 

“Well, I definitely wasn’t sitting idly in the war between Gods.” 

“I’ve never seen you train.” 

“That’s because you’re always on the training grounds.” 

“Oh? You won’t show me?” 

“I’m giving you space. I’m no wife of yours, no?” There’s a sting to it when you say it, having his words thrown back at him. 

“Duel with me. Tomorrow.” He spins you, lets you out of his hold before bringing you back in. 

~

He begins to meet you, day after day. A duel first, and then a dance. The dichotomy would be distasteful to any other, but you of divine blood do not even flinch at his request.

He may be displeased to have you, but his mouth cracked as wide and wicked as a cat’s at the prospect of a fight.

“Go on, then.” He takes a blunt, wooden sword, throwing it in your direction. “Or do you only fight with magic?” He teases. 

You swing the sword, rotating your wrist with ease. “Do you forget yourself, prince? I am half divine, you will surely lose. Are you sure you want to go through with this anyways?” 

His mouth widens, more teeth than smile. “Bring it.” 

You know, the moment you defend against his first strike, that a singular hit from him on the battlefield must be deadly. He is surefooted, his whole weight bears down in every move. He doesn’t let you breathe once, much faster than you would’ve thought with someone of his size and height. 

Kaiser was almost right about one thing, that the divine adds to your magic more than your physical strength. With enough training, in just simple hand-to-hand combat… He might have the potential to beat you. 

But not today. Today, you have him pinned to the ground, makeshift blade to his throat. 

��You’re awfully close,” he gasps out slyly. And it’s in this moment that you notice, too, how right he is about that, how you can feel his heartbeat underneath yours, his chest against yours with each exhale. 

“What?” He grins wide, “afraid you’ll miss?” 

By all the Gods, you want to knock the living daylights out of him. He notices your anger in that hesitation, your conflict between doing what is right and what you want, and flips you over, swapping your positions until his hips are pressed against yours. 

Something about your shell-shocked face makes him stir. 

“First rule of fighting, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair before planting it next to your head, leaning into you close. “Never get distracted by your opponent.”

He’s closer than he was before, admiring the way you look under him, your hair splayed along the ground and the sweet fire of irritation in your eyes. Is the heaving of your chest from your anger towards him, or from something else entirely? 

“When Gods fight, there is not nearly as much prattling.” You grit at him. He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean. 

~

It is during dances that he speaks to you. Not at first, but slowly, like a river that streams into the ocean. You tell him tales about the Gods, about your friends, about wars and petty arguments. And he starts to answer you, more often than not, with every question you might have. 

“I have wondered about something.” 

“Hm?”

“The sheathing. It prevents even me from detecting the sword’s divinity.” 

“Huh, so Nagi really wasn’t lying.” 

“Nagi, who is always with Reo?” 

Kaiser nods. “They say Nagi was once sought upon by a god for his talents, a god who was constantly sending him dreams. But he grew tired of it, so he found a material that prevents even the gods from finding him so he can sleep in peace.” 

The conversation often leads to the prophecy, a bitterness like licorice on his tongue. Even if he skates around the topic, you don’t let him hide from it, cutting straight to the heart of the truth.

“You can live in the cold bitterness you’ve put yourself in, Kaiser,” you tell him, one of these nights. “Or you can live, and maybe even possibly die, warmed by a life you truly felt was worth living. Your own choices. Not because of a prophecy, or because of Noa, or even in spite of me.”

But despite it, he doesn’t move away. Because it is the only time he has you to himself. He sees you, always, with Isagi and Oliver and Karasu and Chigiri. How you have molded into their lives with simplicity, sit with them at meals and have easy conversation despite knowing nothing, in a way that he has never once allowed himself to enjoy. What does it say about Kaiser? That he can't stand your presence but he can't stand your absence even more? That he would rather have a biting argument with you than leave you to your own devices? 

It's during duel and dance that he comes as close as he can to touching you. If he did anymore, it would become something he doesn't have the heart to name without unease settling in his gut.

~

On the day of the banquet, Chigiri sits you down in your vanity, braiding your hair back in his hands.

“The queen of the Gods, her lover, a friend of mine… He used to do this for me too.”

Chigiri silently appreciates that you don’t ask him why it is him that helps you with this. That divinity doesn’t hold the same notions this world does.

“He would-,” you laugh softly to yourself. You’re stunning like this, Chigiri can’t help but notice. A goddess, most casual as can be. “He would say that I was useless at it, actually. You two might’ve been good friends.”

“Me? Friends with a god?” Chigiri finishes the braid, tilting your head in his hands to admire the way the braid crowns around each side.

“Of the Fae, actually. A beautiful man he is. You would fit right in.”

That stops Chigiri, has him taking a sharp intake of breath, smiling at you through the vanity’s reflection. “Thank you, princess. Though you would do good to be more careful during this banquet to compliment anyone.”

You smile softly back. “Ah, yes, my betrothed who will not love me might get jealous. Gods are not so different than people, in this regard.”

“Is that so…”

~

It’s when you meet the Itoshi brothers at the banquet that you begin to understand why Isagi gave you all these lessons.

Where Kaiser is muscle and sword first, more fighter than prince, Sae and Rin are the opposite. They have a grace befitting of royalty. Instead of heavy footfalls that you can hear even in the blanket of snow, they are light-footed, conscious of it in the echoed ballroom.

Though you suspect, from the way Sae grips Kaiser’s forearm as they shake hands, from the way Kaiser regards Sae, that he is somehow just as strong of a fighter. That royalty is an illusion Sae and Rin put on, for peace’s sake.

Something indescribable flits over Sae’s face as you curtsy in front of him, but it’s gone in a moment, replaced with his nonchalance.

“The betrothed of the banquet. We are most pleased to make your acquaintance.” Sae bows his head to you, and Rin follows in his stead.

You smile, something beaming and sweet. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Would you mind, Kaiser?” Sae’s eyes only leave yours for a glance, to check in at Kaiser’s now furrowed look. “I’d like to take your wife-to-be for a dance.”

Kaiser’s back straightens, a hardened gaze with gritted teeth. But he says nothing. You swear Sae almost grins.

“I’ll return her back to you.” He says it like a favor, and Kaiser is only held back by Karasu’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just one dance, Kai,” Kaiser looks at Karasu, then to you, and then back to Sae. He barely nods once.

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

He scowls. “What do I have to be worried about?”

Well, it’s not like you want to anger him further. You let Sae take your hand, leading you to the floor.

“I almost didn't think you were who you said you were, when I saw you,” Sae tells you, breaking the quiet of the dance. 

You lean back so you can see his whole face, your confusion clear. “Your highness?”

“When I had heard of you, they told me that waves flowed off your dress like water itself holds you sacred. Yet here you are, as regular as can be.”

Sae twirls you away from him, then brings you back into his arms. “They say you shook the earth with a single step. Where is all that power you were said to hold?” He holds you close, watching your every reaction with his crystal gaze. “This place. They’ve placated you, tamed you.”

He brings his mouth to your ear, the body warmth of his entire chest seeping into yours. “If you were mine, I would never force you into a box you didn’t belong. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of Kaiser, even with his god-killing sword.” He spins you again, capturing your waist. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t be afraid to demonstrate your power to the world.”

“Sae.” He looks at you in a way that feels meaningful. You don’t know the pleasantries of this nation or his in-depth, but you know, somehow, that this feels like this is something you should shield from. 

“Oh? No honorifics already? We’re that intimate, are we?”

To fight is one thing, but this is something entirely different. Being able to hurt others with a play instead of a sword, you’re not sure if you can shield others from something like that.

As the song ends, Sae takes your hand, brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Consider my proposition, princess. Before your marriage solidifies, and becomes something you can’t escape from.”

With his hand on the small of your waist, he brings you back to Kaiser dutifully. Kaiser links his arm with yours immediately, before any of you can spare a goodbye.

“What did he say to you?”

You hum. You get the sense that maybe…

“Nothing of importance,” you tell him instead.

“Hm?” He tilts your chin up to meet you eye to eye. “Is my own betrothed keeping secrets from me?”

“He said I don’t seem all that powerful.”

That makes Kaiser smile, not something sweet but with teeth bared, like a wolf. “He hasn’t seen you in action.” He pulls you in, hand wrapping to the back of your neck, a slow and deep whisper. “Do you want to show them?”

“Weren’t we both told that’s inappropriate? Isagi said the optics could make your allies scared.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Isagi this, optics that. Our country has always been about the brawl and brave. Let the nations fear us, then. I, with my cruelty and a god-killing sword. You, a sorceress second to none. It’s a pretty picture, is it not?”

He straps his sword to his back and brings you to the middle of the room, and as the guests of honor, the crowd gives you both a wide berth. He circles you, just like you practiced. Makes you center stage.

“Go on then, princess.” He lets go of your hand and bows, sweeping his arm out. “Show us who you really are.”

“Kaiser,” you whisper. “We have very clear orders-”

“I make the orders, not follow them. So make your choice, princess. Wasn’t it you who said that it is worth living a life warmed by your own choices? Tell me, then. Do you want to show them? Or do you want to play nice?”

This play, to have ego and pride dive head-first into a situation, is so very human. And yet-

You let water overcast your body from your waist, let it roll off in layers like waves into the floor. Anyone who has had experience with magic can see your ultimate control over it, how the floor isn’t wet at all, how the water was conjured from nothing. Your hair is silken with dampness, framing your face like gloss. Gasps and awes from the audience makes Kaiser grin even wider.

“There we go.” Kaiser reaches behind him to unsheath his blade, and the galaxy within swirls. He spins it in his hand, and it’s almost like he’s never been happier.

In seconds, he strikes at you. Your hands move up instinctively, blocking the blade with a stream of water. The sound it makes, divinity against divinity, is like a low bell. The floor beneath you shakes with the strength of the strike, water dispersing around your feet in cascades to cushion the impact. You hear screams of shock, a glass breaking.

“Kaiser,” you grit, but all he does is widen that wicked, quicksilver grin.

And then he laughs, stepping away and sheathing the blade back. He holds one hand out to you instead.

“Next time, I want a duel in front of everyone. But this time, I guess a dance will suffice.”

You exhale gratefully, taking his hand in yours and retracting your water. “Let us dance, then.”

And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you.

~

Isagi collapses into the booth, a palm pressed to his eyebrows. “Our allies thought they were about to fight each other.”

“Can I cash in on my bet now?” Karasu rolls a skewer stick between his fingers. “Because they might’ve almost killed each other.” 

“Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.” 

Isagi opens his eyes to find Chigiri and Bachira standing before the booth. Chigiri’s not meeting his eyes, his mouth perching to one side in a way that squishes one of his cheeks. 

“What happened?” 

“They’re gone.” 

“Ha?” 

“We had one drink. One.” 

Oliver has the audacity to laugh, hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry, Isagi,” he pats him on the back. “I’m sure they’re just fucking around.” 

In another corner of the hall, royals speak in low tones. 

“We can just take her if you like her,” Shidou tells Sae with the sweetest smile a man like that can muster. “No need to ask poor little Kai-Kai.” 

Sae says nothing, eyeing you quietly as you step out of the hall. 

~

You are sitting at the edge of the ocean, letting the slate-crested waves wash over you, when he finds you. 

“You can dry me in a moment’s notice if I am to sit with you, right?” He says it almost reluctantly, even though he’s here anyways. He’s dropped his off coat somewhere along the way, and there’s something so naked about seeing him in just a shirt. He almost seems softer, without the harsh lines of battle-ready clothing or the fur that drapes around him, relaxed in a way he wasn’t in the banquet hall. 

You smile. “I can keep you dry whilst you're sitting.” 

He relents, then. Allowing the strangeness of sitting on wet sand without getting wet. 

“Was the banquet up to your expectations, then, Kaiser?” 

Expectations. He’s had none of a party like this. Being allowed to dream is a privilege, and privileges were not granted to him.

“You are officially my wife-to-be,” he says instead. “Shouldn’t you call me something a little more intimate?”

You gaze out into the horizon for a moment, and something in your eyes unfocuses, like you’ve gone somewhere else and then returned. “Very well. I shall call you Mihya.”

It strikes a chord in him, like a teaspoon hitting a glass. “Mihya? Where did that come from?”

“The water.”

“She speaks to you?” 

“She says in another life, you are given a nickname like that.”

“Another life…” He lies down in the sand, watches the streaks of sunset in the blueing sky. 

“Ask then, Mihya,” you lean over him slightly, until all he can see is the sky and the way your features soften. “The question we both know is on your mind.”

He almost wants to reach out, hold your cheek in his hand. It’s a foreign feeling to him, so foreign it almost feels like unease – to want to extend a gentleness like that to another person. “Won’t you just tell me?”

You breathe in the sea-salt air, and breathe out a heart-warmed truth. “The prophecy does not hold you captive in another life.”

Kaiser, for once, lets himself dream. Of a different life, where he is unburdened by a prophecy, and burns brightly.

~

“It would seem strange if you weren’t together, with all the other guests in the palace.” That’s what Oliver tells you as he gestures for you to take his arm, leading you to Kaiser’s room. 

It’s both plainer and more furnished than you thought, like someone who isn’t him had chosen the furniture and the color of the walls. But the items in the bookshelves seem well-loved, items taken out and put back haphazardly, scrolls and books placed back half-way. The bathroom door opens with a flood of light.  

“You’re here.” It’s rare to shock Kaiser in a way that doesn’t make him immediately reach for his sword.

You turn to look at him, taking in his half-dressed state. “Were you expecting some other woman?” 

“Oh, so you’re the jealous type?” 

He almost wants to laugh at the clear discomfort on your face. Gods don’t tease, he’s guessing? 

The bed gives way to you as you take your place. “I hear it’s common for princes to take many lovers.” 

The moonlight spills over the bedsheets as the room darkens, and you summon the sword to float right above you, looking into it. He joins you, wanting to see exactly what you’re seeing. 

“It’s not a night sky.” Your voice is so soft in the blanket of night between you both. 

“Hm?” 

“Inside the sword. Your people say it looks like the night sky. It’s not. It’s a galaxy.” 

He reaches his hand out, tracing over the glass along the middle of the weapon, a silent remark for you to continue. 

“At the beginning of all worlds, the first-ever contract was made between the first-ever forces, and with it, this sword was said to be conjured out of the galaxy. And so, a part of the galaxy at the beginning of all worlds was contained in this sword.” 

The stars in the sword move within like they’re responding to your words, borne witness to all the events. But instead of watching them, you turn to him. 

“You have held and wielded a primordial piece of this world. It has allowed you to hold it, granted you its blessing.” 

Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had. 

The sword disappears with a movement of his hand, and he rolls to lean over you. Silence drops like a curtain. The only sound he knows is your breath and his. 

During a fight, his feelings can almost be mistaken for adrenaline. But even under the shadow of the moon, with the cushioned silence between you both, the way you cut straight to the truth rings like a silver bell.

He can’t hide from you. Or maybe. Maybe he’s tired of hiding at all.

He is a man who has only known war and battle, was born and bred into it. War-forged, is what they call men like him. His hands know weapons, know how to kill.

He does not know if they know how to love. And yet-

He cups your face, and drinks you in.

He kisses you with caution, like you might melt from his grasp if he held too tightly. Presses his lips against yours slowly. He runs his hand gently over your hairline as he parts from you. 

Is this okay? He wants to ask. But instead, he says: “Tell me what you want.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips brushing against yours when you answer: “You.” 

And then he kisses you like a man starved, never known by this feeling that gets caught up in his throat with every noise of yours he swallows. 

“Is this… is this what you want?” You try to ask as you part from him for air, but he presses his mouth to the space behind your ear instead, laying kisses down your neck. “Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?” 

That makes him stop. But when he looks at you with a surefire gaze… 

He knows it, undoubtedly. That this, for once, is his. 

“There are no lovers,” he tells you between kisses, to your shoulder, down your collarbone, to your breastbone. 

“What?” 

“I take no lovers.” He unclasps your bra, lets the material fall from his hands to cup your supple flesh. “I’ve never been princely, after all.” 

“You- Kai-” 

He runs his thumbs across both your nipples, admires how they perk up at his administrations, flitting his gaze between them and your face as he brings his mouth down over one of them. 

He presses kisses down your body, cups your heat in his hand like he’s begging you to respond, like he’s saying let me have this. The inside of your thighs is soft as cream under his calloused hands. His thumb moves along the outside of your underwear, from your slit up to your clit with his fingers pressing tentatively against the fabric until you’re grabbing at his wrist. 

“You’re so tense,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want me to take care of that for you?” He runs the knuckles of his hand over your clothed slit, bumping into your clit with his thumb until your breathing gets heavy, your hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Kaiser,” you breathe, and he clicks his tongue. 

“That’s not what you call me, baby. Not anymore.” 

“Mihya.” 

“Mm,” he slides his fingers into your panties from the side, a huff of breath leaves him at the wetness he finds. “Good girls get rewarded, you know?” 

Heat coils hot deep in your stomach. He can’t take the restriction, pulling your panties down and revealing your core to the cold air. He lets his slickness pool on his fingers, collects it before bringing it to your clit. It’s like a drug, watching the way your face gives way to pleasure, how your body arches into him. 

“Mihya,” you gasp again, like a chant, a prayer. Is this what the gods feel like, to be asked of? 

“Let me watch,” he says it like a demand but it aches with desperation, a thing he won’t admit outside these four walls. He presses with more confidence now, slides one finger into you, then two. There’s little resistance with the way he’s riled you up, long fingers pressing into you until he reaches something that has you making a broken moan so pretty he can’t help but tilt into it again. 

“I want to see it,” he tells you. This is something he makes happen to you, with his own hands, his own words, his own body that shares its heat with yours. That notion alone runs arousal straight through him. Your panting breath, the way your body shakes with each swipe against your clit. 

“I want to see you fall apart in my arms.” He whispers, and you respond in kind. You always do to him, don’t you? He’s been seen too surely by you, now it’s his turn. Your body tenses entirely, tightly, gripping him as he grants you reprieve. A soft whine leaves your mouth along with something like his name, and the rough pad of his thumb circles over your clit until you crash, coming around his fingers. 

He swipes a thumb over your cheek, allows himself the gentleness that he’s held back for so long with you. 

“One more, okay?”

Your eyes widen. “Mihya,” this time it’s like a warning, but the way you say his name is so breathy it has him pressing a hand over his pants. 

“Yeah, say my name just like that.” He shuffles down until his mouth is pressing to your stomach, just above your mound. Then again to the inside of your knee, trailing up until the inside of your thigh, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there. 

“You’re-, wait, we just- I just” 

“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” He kisses your clit first, like a promise, and then he laps at your core generously, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit, his flat tongue against the whole of you. Every drop of slick from your previous orgasm is taken in by him with each moan he makes against your core. If he had known this feeling was going to enter his life, that it would’ve felt like this, maybe he would’ve readied himself better for it. Instead, he finds himself starving at the table where it’s served. The taste of you on his tongue wraps him in a heady pleasure, but it’s every sound he takes out of you that has him pressing a little more insistently, tongue laving over you. 

“Pl-please,” your words break between gasps, and it has him lapping into your clit with more pressure. 

“I can never say no to you, can I?” he mumbles between your legs. And then he’s flipping you over, hoisting you onto your knees and skimming his hands over your rear and thighs before diving in again. Your face is pressed into the pillow, hands grabbing the sheets. Kaiser almost seems dazed as he moans into your cunt, swollen and wet like a siren’s call, hands wrapped so tightly around your plush thighs that it feels like it might bruise. 

“Let me taste,” he mutters, mouth still lodged into your cunt, like that isn’t what he’s already doing. “Come on baby, give it to me. Let me taste it on my tongue.” 

Your hole clenches and flutters around nothing as another orgasm rocks through you, your breath coming short as you break apart on his tongue with a whine. 

He flips you over again, and the look on his face takes your breath away. Your slick shimmers on his mouth as he trails his tongue over his lips, like he’s addicted, like he can’t get enough. He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him. 

“There something you want, pretty?” He leans over you, hand to the bedpost, and how broad and tall he is becomes that much more obvious. You let yourself look, at the way his tattoo drapes over his arm, run your hands over the muscle of his torso down to his v-line. You hear a sharp intake of breath as your hand moves lower, running under his loose sleep pants to the base of his cock. 

He grabs your hand in his, bringing it over your head and circling both your wrists. “Ask.” 

“You-,” your eyes narrow and you huff at him, but it only makes him smile. “Won’t you just-” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“I could cut you down here.” 

He drops his pants, pumping his cock once and then sliding it along your slit. “You could. And then who’ll give you what you want?” 

You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks. 

“You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?” 

The harsh look you give him under those fluttering lashes of yours makes something stir in his gut, arousal shot through his veins, pupils wide. He plays with you, warm hands against your skin and between your legs, the soft skin of his cock sliding between your thighs until you’re gasping in his hold again, grinning like a battle won. 

“Please, Mihya,” you sigh. 

“Mhmm. Please what?” 

“Please- please fuck me.” 

He gets off on it, watching you yield to him, spreading your legs, dripping your hot slick onto his cock. He presses the head against you, petaled folds opening up to receive him as he slides into you slowly. Just the first few inches is so thick inside of you that your hands wrap around the muscles of his arms, nails digging in. 

“Shh, baby, you can take it,” he hushes your little whines, tracing your hairline with such gentleness it contradicts the way he pulls out of you just slightly only to push in again. 

“You’re- oh,” your body gives into him, even more so when he brings his hand down to tap on your clit, his mouth over your neck, to the side of your mouth, until he’s kissing you and taking in every noise you make. It’s almost a distraction, helps your body to relax so he can press into you deeper. You think you feel every inch as it enters you, all the way until the hilt, until the head is pressing deep inside of you and his hips meet yours.  

He lets out a rough, deep moan against the expanse of your neck, breath coming short as your walls tighten around him. 

“Fuck, baby. You gotta let me move.” Your arms wrap around him tighter, a whimper falling from your lips as he tilts his hips up to plunge into you again. It’s hard and slow and deep and if it wasn’t for his grip on you, you might’ve hit the headboard. But he’s careful about it – more than you might’ve thought he’d be. Pressing your body into the bed as his hips meet yours again and again. 

“It feels so good,” you tell him, and it has him pressing a kiss to your cheek in return. Makes every moan you make that much sweeter, to know it’s out of your pleasure, to know it’s because of him. 

“Good girl. Tell me again.” 

“Feels- you’re so big, so- please, I need-” Your walls can barely clench down onto him with how he feels inside of you. Chest to chest with him, the contact of skin on skin-

“You drive me insane,” he grumbles it into your skin; a confession, exacerbated with each thrust of his hips as he picks up the speed, until he’s slamming into you with a kind of strength that has you seeing constellations behind your eyes. He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. Heat pools in your core until you’re arching your back, and he knows it now – knows it like the back of his hand. 

“Give it to me.” It’s a command, a need, if you listen closely enough. “Come around my cock. Show me.” 

“Mihya, it’s so much, it’s so so much.” It’s treacherous, the way it works through your body, being on the brink. 

His thumb is slick over your clit, pressing just a little more, until your thighs are tightening under his unrelenting body. “Come for me.” 

You chant his name until the words start to become nothing in your mouth, until you’re breathless, until your whole body tenses under him and his hold against you gets that much rougher and your walls clamp down and then your body shakes as you come. You almost scream, only silenced by his lips on yours. He comes quickly after that, his eyes never leaving yours, taking in how you look underneath him as his cock gets more sensitive and paints the inside of your walls. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow until he feels your body start to relax under his. 

You can barely process coming down as he’s kissing you again, deeply and with force, like he’s etching the memory of you into his mind and onto your lips. 

For once, he lets himself recognize – how tiring the emptiness has been, to be devoid of this feeling and instead be filled with the fear that it’ll be turned against him. For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his, not a prayer but a soft word spoken in return. Kaiser does not want something as untouching as approval or attention from the divine. But he does want your waist in his arms, your forehead against his.

“Just like this,” he whispers it, a kiss placed to your forehead. You don’t know what he means, too tired to ask. 

This is exactly what he’s always wanted. Just like this. 

~

Not unlike a parent, Noa notices the closeness of your relationship. In touch, in stolen glances, in longing. A private conversation with him over afternoon tea is not unique, but the heaviness that weighs on him is. 

“As the goddess who cannot lie, I have to ask you.” The hardened look on his face makes you straighten your back, putting down your teacup. “You know, that I have to ask.”

Silence sits between you both like a shoe about to drop. 

Noa yields. “Has he truly been forsaken by all the gods?”

You are strangely silent as you look at him, then away, then back. 

“Answer me, demigod.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I. Don’t. Know. I have told you before, that I am not a seer, or an oracle. Water holds memory. I can see the past, I can even see other lives parallel to ours, but I cannot see the future. This is the limit of my power.”

“You are of divine nature.” 

“I had said what I said at our first meeting, and that has not changed. As long as I am here, the Gods have not forsaken him. For I have not forsaken him. Is that not enough? How many Gods would travel to your realm, vow themselves to a human kingdom? Even if it is I alone that stands before you, is that not enough?”

Noa sighs, more exasperated than you’ve ever seen a serious man like him. “He deserves more, that boy. For what he has been put through.”

“All greatness comes with a price. All heroes face tragedy. He, no matter how much you may care for him, is not the exception to that.” You tilt your head, like a cat with curiosity. But unlike that sweetness, your words are cutting. “You made him a ruler. You made him a hero. So, stand by that. Or does it make you uncomfortable? To consider the role you, too, have played in his life?”

Noa, of course, has thought about this too. Had he not chosen Kaiser to rule, would he have had the prophecy weighing on him like a second shadow? 

“If the prophecy holds true, you will inevitably leave him.” Noa swallows, hand flat against the table. “He will inevitably be forsaken, even by you.”

“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”

~

In the weeks that follow, you learn exactly why. Like Kaiser had predicted, talk of battle comes. 

“We suspect a neighboring nation wishes to wage war with us.” Noa looks out to the slate-blue ocean from the window of the war room. 

“A man who wants control of this whole world,” Karasu huffs. “There’s never a lack of them, is there?”

“He thinks himself a god. Or that’s what Sae has told us.” 

“You’re sure Sae’s information checks out?” 

“Shidou and Otoya like to visit neighboring nations for uh… fun, let’s say,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, then plants his face in his hands. “He said something along the lines of “you don’t wanna know how they found out” and “Shidou sleeps with both men and women, so it’s been cross-checked too.”” 

“And then we asked him about war,” Isagi throws his notes down on the table. “He said, and I quote, ‘I already have more land than I know what to do with. What could another few acres give me? What a hassle.’” 

“The enemy are bold to come for us first.” Kaiser frowns considerably. They are possibly the one nation blasphemous enough that would not blink at the thought of fighting a god. “There’s something we’re not seeing.”

Isagi nods in agreement. “We still don’t know the reason they’re coming here first. It could be the sword, or the goddess.” Isagi frowns. “I told you not to make a scene at the banquet.”

Kaiser gives him a curious look with a smile he fails to hide. “The point of a banquet is to wow the people. The people were wowed, were they not?” 

“It could be, it could not be,” Noa kills the conflict there. “That information would have been made public regardless of the spectacle. It could even simply be the throne itself they seek. An army like ours could parade into the neighboring nations and lay waste, our people are used to much harsher weathers.” 

“Or maybe he means to make a statement,” Karasu shrugs. “If he wants to be a god, maybe he means to punish the disrespect we’ve shown.” 

“What do we actually know?” Chigiri taps the map of this nation splayed across the table.

“We know he wants to take control of this world, and we know his plan includes something from us.” 

“He knows once he controls the world, he has to take care of it, right?” Oliver rests his jaw in his hand. “As in, it’s not just about buying the house, it’s about cleaning it too. The plan – it has to be bigger than this, no?” 

“Won’t happen once we kill him here. So as far as we know, there are three things we have that he could want: the sword, the goddess, the army.” Chigiri holds up his fingers as he counts. 

“So we’ll meet him with all three at the front lines. Fear does not wield us, after all. Only strength.” Kaiser says it like a mantra. You suspect it might be exactly that. 

~

“What a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon, princess.” 

As an ally, Sae arrived on the day of battle without question. He is much different from the first time you saw him, chainmail armor wraps tight and sleek around his body, clearly of a weight underneath his clothing. He stands straighter, shoulders broader, badges clipped to his outer jacket. It’s clear to anyone who looks at him, that it’s almost like he was born into them – meant for them. 

“You’re both on the front lines then?” 

“Idle hands,” Kaiser starts.

“Devil’s workshop.” You finish. You hear a horse galloping, then a voice. 

“There’s something wrong.” The people give a wide berth as Oliver arrives, with a sleek black mare that’s obedient as can be. “The majority of the enemies’ troops are not in front of us.” 

All of you turn to look, but it’s on the front lines that makes it most difficult to tell where the crowd begins and ends. 

“I did a rough head count from the tower. This isn’t the count we had observed just the other day. They’ll die easily, like this, against us. And I don’t mean that from an egotistical standpoint. I think these men are here to die, meant to die. It serves to mean –” 

“This is a distraction.” 

Karasu appears at your side, with an utmost silence only he is capable of. “They’re headed for the main castle, from around the edge of the border.” 

You and Kaiser look to each other with a whole silent conversation, and Sae sighs. 

“Go on, then.” 

You turn to Sae immediately, with a seriousness he doesn’t expect. “You’ll be unprotected.” 

“We chopped liver to you, girl?” Shidou sneers. 

Oliver drops down from his horse. “I’ll take over here.” 

“Your care for me is truly touching, princess,” Sae’s voice lilts touchingly, almost revealing how much he likes it. “But you swore a vow to this kingdom, so go fulfill it.” 

Even in the middle of a war, it gets Kaiser all worked up, his chin jutting as you both run back to the palace. But Sae understands duty, stands by it. It’s what makes him worthy of his own title in his own kingdom. 

Oliver waits until you’re both out of sight before turning to Sae. “Did you really plan to steal her?” 

“Well,” Sae shrugs. “Did you plan on letting her go so easily?” 

~

Your water runs in cascading waves through the whole of the palace, like the ocean itself comes rushing through the walls. It knocks all the soldiers down as you and Kaiser run through, and he picks up any stragglers with ease.  

“The throne room?” Kaiser slams the hilt of his sword into the guy behind him, and he collapses instantly. 

“It is the safest room.” 

“That makes no sense. If you knew anything about our people, you’d know we never hide ourselves there in a battle.” 

“Go anyways,” you tell him, as another man gets thrown off his feet. “Go, Kaiser!” 

He takes one final look at you, at the strength that you hold in your hands, and then he runs. 

The man he finds sitting on the throne has black hair cut blunt to his chin, a white mask over one side of his face. Kaiser unsheathes his sword, pointed straight and true. 

“That throne doesn’t belong to you.” 

“It will. Along with that sword you’re holding.” 

Kaiser chuckles, the kind that has madness interlaced in it. “If you wanted the sword so bad, you could’ve asked for a one-on-one combat duel. I haven’t had a satisfying fight in a long time, I’d be happy to lay the sword as a winning prize.” 

What must be the man’s most elite fighters drop down from the ceiling, crowding in on all sides. 

“Ah, I see,” Kaiser stands straighter, reaching behind him to unsheath his second sword. “It is your capabilities that do not match mine.”

When they come for him, it’s clear to even the heavens that he is exactly as he is fated – a force to be reckoned with. He moves like a spider-spun silken web, capturing each of them blow by blow. His swords cut like butter through them with impressive speed and strength. His breath comes fast and hard when he finishes, sweat dripping down his back. 

“I see now, prince,” the man approaches him, and it’s closer up that he realizes he’s simply in a suit, no armor. “Why they praise you, despite your blasphemy. You, a prince famous for cursing divinity at a whim’s notice, are a powerful ally. Kneel before me, then, and I’ll cease this all – let you join our cause in a war against the gods, in stealing their divinity from them. I’ll even forgive this transgression of bedding one.” 

“Me? Kneel?” The canned laugh that Kaiser lets out echoes. “I kneel to no god, let alone a man who wants to become one.” 

“So be it, then.” 

Kaiser hears something above him. By the gods, what’s with this guy and ceilings? Is that why he wants to fight here? A dust of something shimmers down, he pulls his cloak over himself- 

From the doorway, you throw your water across the room, shielding Kaiser from whatever it may have been. And in the same moment, a poof of shimmer bursts over your own head and tumbles down around you. 

“That’s the problem with you gods, isn’t it? You always think you’re infallible.” 

You cough, falling to one of your knees. Dread fills inside of you, like a faucet you can’t turn off. You can’t move. How is that possible? 

The man taps two fingers to the top of your head, and your world goes dark.

~

When you blink your eyes open, the first thing you’re aware of is the way your vision swims. Your mind feels clouded, stuffed with cotton. You press your palm to your head, and even that feels muted. 

“I’ve made her mine now. She’ll do exactly what I say. Does that make you upset?” Is what you think you hear, through the ringing of your ears. “Let’s see you put that god-killing sword to good use then, shall we?” 

“It’s. Magic.” You spit out the words as your hands press into the ground. Your legs cramp from the way you’re forcing them to stay down. “Mihya. Run, please.” 

“Awh, worried about me?” Kaiser teases as he logs the odds. There is no water that swirls around you, so it begs to reason – you can’t call it. The only weapon you have is a dagger. 

Kaiser tilts his head until his neck cracks. “Have some faith in me, princess. I’m not afraid, even against you.”

He breathes, in and out, until the calmness of battle seeps into him, raises his sword pointed right at you. “I’ll win, even against you.” 

And then he reveals that cocky, surefire smirk. “You should worry more about not dying yourself.” 

When you launch at him, it is without mercy, makes him realize how your kindness seeps into the way you fight. His weapon is bigger, larger, and he uses it to keep you at arm’s length, to wrap around towards the enemy. But he sees his problem almost immediately. Like a puppet on strings, you’re protecting the enemy. 

He knows it, the moment the prophecy solidifies into place in his mind. That feeling of being lost on a path, gone with the reigning down a light. The final puzzle piece in the picture. 

You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you. 

For once, the prophecy is not a curse but a guiding starlight. He corners you with strike after strike, until you’re as close as can be to the enemy. And then he approaches you with no defense, lets you strike at him. In the same breath, his sword lands behind you and takes off the enemy’s head. 

None of the fight felt as clear as this moment, when your blade presses into his heart. 

He collapses, right in front of the throne with you on top of him. The throne that should be undoubtedly his, belonging to him as heir. Tears fall from your face before your mind can clear. Like you know, soul to soul, as his lifeform slips through your fingers. He brings his hand to cup your cheek, as he had wanted to do when you laid like this above him in the sand. 

“I did not expect a death so gentle for myself.” 

His smile is so bittersweet that it aches all the way to the bottom of your heart. His hand slips down from your face as you finally come to. 

“You will not die on me.” You gasp out, a statement said with so much conviction that the silver bell of truth rings in return. You call to your water immediately, a stream so fast it cuts into your skin but you don’t care. 

A magic that can only be done once. You take the divine sword from the ground, aim the blade carefully at yourself – your own soul. Only this sword can make a cut like this, with the hand of the divine. You slice your wrist, and instead of blood, pure golden lifeforce pours out. 

You separate your divinity from yourself, and you feed it to him. It will not turn him divine. You are only half-divine yourself, after all. What you can give is not nearly enough to turn a man into a God. But it will hold his soul in this world, let you do an unspeakable magic: an exchange of divine power for life, a process long enough for the water to heal his heart back together again. The hand you lay against his mouth shakes more and more with each second that your golden blood pours into him, but your other hand lays steady as ever over his heart, until you feel it beat once, twice. Hear him spurt out a breath. 

You collapse on top of him before you can see him open his eyes. 

~

“I see the prophecy has been completed.” 

When Kaiser wakes, there’s a split second where he thinks he might’ve just ended up wherever souls go at the end of their line. There’s what must be a full-fledged goddess standing right over him. It’s only your warm body splayed across his chest that tells him otherwise. His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it. 

Golden threads extend down the sleeves of the goddess’ arms. He’s seen the paintings. Fate itself stands before him. 

“How could you do this?” He makes his disdain clear, lacking any respect one might give to the queen of the gods herself. 

“I am sorry.” She answers immediately, and that makes Kaiser’s eyes widen just slightly. “Your grievances, you may relay them to me, if you wish. There is a bigger picture at play here, bigger than you or the water sorceress or even myself. The threads of fate are not woven selfishly.” 

“You gods up in your clouds play with the lives of mortals. That has always been written in history. But to her? To one of your own?”

“She is more one of mine than most. The heir to the throne of the Gods, I would’ve entrusted her with my life. It’s why she complies with Fate in every life, without complaint.”

“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?” 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heavy too, are my hands, that weave the golden threads. You and her are one of many that have suffered by my hand. For that, there is no apology I can give. What I can give, well… Would you like to hear your full prophecy, prince?”

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will die by the hands of the one you love most. Forsaken by all the Gods but one, Re-emerge, awaken, as the ruler you are meant to become.

In any other circumstance, he would be eager as ever to finally hear the full prophecy. But his eyes are only on you, your slumbering state as he holds you in his arms. 

“What will become of her?” He asks quietly. 

“She will be a water sorceress, as she had initially been.” 

“She will die, then? Like a human does?”

“All things die, hero.” Hero. That’s what he is now, having been trial-passed. The title burns like bourbon down his throat. “Even the divine dies. But yes, she will die as a human, and be reborn again as the cycle permits.” 

“A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.” 

“Who says it would be simple? Besides, she has gone through the trial of the divine once before. Don’t you have faith she could do it again?” 

The trial of the divine. He had not known such a thing prior to you. But if anyone could pass it, it would be you. 

“I will make her my wife. I care little for the words or respect of the gods, even a queen like yourself. But it is my duty to inform you. If she will have me, I will wed her as has been planned.” 

“The prophecy is complete. What happens now is too inconsequential for me to put effort into. However…” she watches you, teartracks streaked down your cheeks. “I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.” 

In a blink, her form disappears. 

“Kaiser!” Oliver’s voice echoes through the halls, taking big leaps with Noa to his side, skidding to a halt when he finally finds you both. 

“The goddess-” 

“She lives,” Kaiser cups your head into his chest. “Though she is goddess no more. A trade. Not a fair one by any means.” His thumb traces across your cheek, a state of his so vulnerable it renders Oliver speechless. 

Noa approaches the threshold where Oliver does not dare. He rests his hand on the crown of Kaiser’s head. “Another chance at life is the greatest gift, and she has granted you as such. That is a debt you’ll never be able to repay her for..” 

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, then.” 

~

It’s only in the aftermath, that you find out how deep in you truly were.

Kaiser takes a big inhale of the winter air. It’s fresh and cold. And with him, the nation breathed a breath anew, and the trial laid in ashes under his feet.

You’re facing the horizon of the sea when he finds you. 

In the catch of the light, sometimes he swears he sees the divinity that had shimmered off of you before. It’s almost hard to believe, with the ring of water that floats around you, that it had ever left you at all. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, as it always is with you now. 

“Relearning the water.”

“What does it say?”

“That I am still its mistress. Still a sorceress,” the water around you drops into the wet sand. “That its loyalty with me is not dependent on divinity.”

He places a hand to the back of your neck, easing out the tensions there. “But?”

You smile weakly. “I have to strain to hear her now.”

“Guess we can’t do that spectacle again for our wedding.” He cracks a smile, something to ease the ache. “Water holds memory, right?” 

“That, it does.” 

He grabs your hand, pulling you up and towards the waves. You yell for him, but the ocean crashes loudly around you both, and he drags you into the water anyways. Once you’re deep in enough that the waves drape over your knees, he pulls you in close. 

“Let her bear witness, then.” He whispers it against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face. He kisses you, deep and with so much heart you might burst from it. 

A prophecy unfolded, a fate changed, a life saved. 

There’s a part of you that can feel an oncoming future. A sheathing that can block even the eyes of Gods. God-killing weapons that have descended from the heavens themselves. A potion that can cause madness in the minds of the divine. A war between mortals and Gods is coming, you’re sure of it. 

But not in this life. In this life, you are a water sorceress, and he is a trial-passed hero. And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time. 

author's note: ohmygod THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE tell me what you think!!! this is my longest fic ever so i really hope you enjoyed

extended author's note -- know that this is an incredibly realistic note about the perception of love that will take you out of the fantasy lovey-dovey space. it's a disclaimer for the parts of the fic i romanticize and how u should not romanticize them in real life, as well as some notes about kaiser's characterization if you're interested

[just-some-random-blogger]

Can you write some Dream with a Filipino! Reader please???

Beer

Dream of the Endless x Reader + Corinthian x Reader

Summary: You want to get drunk because he's gone. Oh, and Corinthian is so going to take advantage of that.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: Filipino!Reader, gender neutral!reader, I use filipino, mentions of heavy drinking/drunkennes, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: Hey nonnie, tbfh, being filipino played no part in this fic besides the fact she speaks some filipino and sings a filipino song, which is why i added in the warnings instead of the pairing lol ANYWAY, this can kinD OF DOUBLE AS A p2 for Thorn At My Side, although it kind of doesn't really mention much about what happens in that fic and is mostly centered on my fav nightmare But whatever I am tagging everyone who commented on that @cleverzonkwombatsludge @pinksirensong @lexi-anastasia @aralezinspace @emy635 @libra207 @secretdreamlandmentality @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9 Please listen to Beer by Itchyworms, because that's what reader is busting out a lung to here's then english translation if you're curious Part 3 ig "Not Enough"

Corinthian snorted as he watched from his personal corner of the bar. He was deeply impressed by how drunk, yet on key the singer was as each song progressed. This, he notes, would be the 3rd drunken and broken hearted song confession of the night.

When it ends, the crowd cheers but the performer does not care.

Corinthian smirks to himself, taking a sip of his drink. If heartbreak was the recipe for a star performer, then more people should try getting their heart ripped out.

The intro of the next song started to play.

The guitar riff to the familiar tune made my heart clench. Much like the song, I took a swig of beer-- whoever's it was didn't seem to mind. It tasted horrible. I never liked beer. But the burn down my throat was exhilarating. It was well welcomed with all this sorrow in my chest.

I mistakenly use my bottle as a mic when I sing the first lyric.

Someone in the crowd telling me this was made me realize it.

"Dahil wala ka na," I sang the next line.

Because you're gone.

I smack myself with the beer bottle when I begin to think of Dream.

Fuck that.

Corinthian licked his lips, grabbing his glass as he made his way closer to the performance. He pushes his shades up and places a hand in his pocket as the music from the speakers grew louder with every step he took.

He surveyed the room. Corinthian thought of how much of a waste it was for the crowd to be as receptive and appreciative of the performance, though they had no idea what the words meant, when the singer was too intoxicated to even be able to tell.

Corinthian listens to how the lyric about returned gumamelas was sung, how beer was dumped down on it like a sad throat, and how, much like your feelings, the flower was still very much alive after it all.

It was so pathetic it was funny.

Corinthian downs the last of his own drink as the chorus started.

Nah, this was definitely the limit. Aint no way anyone that hammered is making it past the chorus.

He rolled his shoulders, readying for the inevitable, as he enjoyed the severely vulnerable words of the song. The nightmare in him thrived in the pain. It pays to be language omniscient. At least he could thank Dream for that one thing.

Corinthian was nearly a second too late when it happened.

I blink rapidly, my lightheadedness distracted by the gasp of the crowd. It was pretty weird that my head wasn't hurt by the impact of me falling after tripping on a mic chord.

"Steady there, doll face."

I look at the smirking blonde before me, swearing I knew him, even though I didn't.

"Aw, it's Corinthian, babe. I can't believe you'd forget your favorite nightmare," he says, getting me onto my feet, "alcoholism doesn't suit you very well."

He leads me off, placing the mic on the stand. The crowd stirs. I turn over to the TV still flashing the lyrics of my song, "hindi pa tapos."

Not yet done? Corinthian pulls me close to him, brow quirking, "I'm pretty sure you're past done, doll."

I turn to him when I crash onto his firm chest. I barely see my reflection on his thick glasses. I realize he was holding a cup of water in his hand when he brings it up to my lips.

I take the glass from him and drink it.

"Honestly, I should just kill you."

I choke on my water. I feel it come out of my nose.

Corinthian chuckles dryly, shaking his head, "wouldn't you like that? Your Dream Daddy broke your heart. Don't you wanna break his?" The sound of my coughing makes Corinthian think he might not have to do anything for the moron to die.

He grabs the cup from my hand, sets it on a random surface, and leads me out of the bar as I continue racketing my lungs.

"Geez," he pats my back, "you secretly have TB or something?"

I shrug him off as we walk down the pavement. He watches me as I look at him, "you know my dad?"

"What?"

"Sabi mo 'dream daddy', eh hindi-"

This bitch really talking about a dad?

Corinthian mutes out the next words, turning his attentions to the street. He pulls me to the left so that I don't step on a smallish pothole I don't even see.

He peers down to his side, finding the rant 10x more annoying since it was being spoken in a language the idiot was clearly very comfortable with.

"Shut up," Corinthian snips.

I turn up to him, furrowing my brows, "are you my boyfriend?"

Corinthian snorts, ripping me back by my top when I continue walking, though it was a red light. I choke on my collar as I wind up falling back into his chest.

"That depends on how pissed off dad would be if I were."

"It's none of my dad's business who I date."

Corinthian hums, "but it is my dad's."

"You have a strict dad?"

Corinthian snorts, lips curving into a lopsided smile, "oh, you have no idea."

We begin to walk again, and Corinthian turns up to his right when he catches sight of a fluttering black bird. He pulls me closer to him, throwing his arm around my shoulder. He dives his hand to his pocket and takes a stick of gum, popping it into his mouth. He chews it, enjoying the mint for a moment.

"Good news, babe," he starts, "I'm your boyfriend now."

My face contorts, "what?"

"Nightmare."

I am abruptly pulled into a stop. I topple against Corinthian.

"Daddy dearest," said nightmare states, hand gripping one of my shoulder's firmly, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

I look at the man he was addressing, the dark hair and blue eyes make my stomach churn, but I push it away as I look up to the grinning man I was next to. I wrap my arm around his torso, as not to be left in such an awkward position. He turns to me, licking his lips.

"Your dad isn't blonde?" I mutter.

Corinthian laughs, "no he is not. It's kinda funny you don't remember."

"Enough."

Corinthian turns to his maker. He watches as Dream's face tenses, "unhand your captive this instant."

"There's no captive here, pops," he tilts his head, turning to me, "tell 'im. Aren't I your boyfriend, dearest?"

"Uhm," I think, then turn to Corinthian's dad, "yes, sir."

Corinthian holds back a laugh. He wills his face into neutrality. It takes everything in him not to flat out yak at Dream's furious look. Still, he exercises his self-control well.

"You heard it yourself."

"Except," Dream steps forward. A bunch of passersby gives us all weird looks. "You clearly got alcohol-"

"I didn't get alcohol anywhere."

"Oh? Then why does it reek-"

"You know why," Corinthian blurts, "a consequence of trying to forget you, Dream."

"Dream?" I perk up at the sound, turning from Corinthian then otherwise. When I catch his face, when I realize who the man with the dark hair and blue eyes before me was, I hide myself in Corinthian's chest. My heartbeat begins to exhilerate.

Corinthian finds himself acting out of instinct. He pulls me close to him, "don't worry, baby, I got you."

Dream fumes.

"Besides, he can't banish you in your own neighborhood," he smirks to Dream, "now can he?"

"Corinthian," Dream utters with a conviction that shakes the nightmare to his core. It makes him tense. It makes his stomach drop.

However, the spreading feel of wetness on his shirt snaps him out of it.

"Yeah," Cori says, "bye."

I grip on him tightly as we begin to walk away. A chill runs down my spine when he pass Dream. Corinthian experiences the same thing.

We make it down the block in relative silence, relative because beyond the sound of cars, there was a soft voice in my mind calling out to me.

Corinthian silences his own by speaking up, "you wanna have some sinigang? There's a Filipino restaurant just across the street."

I close my eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, as I nod against him.

[grrrrrarro]

Wouldja do any HCs regarding Michael Myers and his neice Jamie, like if he was a good uncle to her? Would he be protective, would he play with her?(This being Halloween 4-5 age Jamie)

Omg I love it! Zero tw and keep in mind that i saw this movie 3years ago so some stuff might not be accurate! Request open

Micheal top1 uncle

He in fact is the best uncle

Overprotective, but wont get involved phisically most of time, he isnt really into hugging people he cares about, more into lurking in shadows making sure noone is in way to ruin her day

He will play games with her, he is king in hide and seek, but dont make him play tag, aint way in hell hes running

He will give her dino toys and some plushies

Haha theres no need for jamie to find out that he commited 4war crimes in one weekend

He will spend a lot of time with jamie! Mostly just vibing on couch next to her just making sure she wont explode or somethin (idk micheal never had kids doesnt know how they work)

Man will watch cartoons with her and enjoy them more than he should have

Im not sure if in this movie whole Haddonfield knows how his face Looks like but if no, he will take it or and pick her out from kindergarden (idk)

They become besties, Jamie will draw cute drawings of her and micheal just vibing! He even will let her pain on his arm or paint his nails!!!

When Jamie is spooked she will call micheal and he will speedrun to her bedroom,(probably with knife) and when she sais "I had bab drem can u sleep with mi" he will just 🌺sure thing🌼 and will just sit next to beb or just stand there akwardly🧍 untill she goes mimimimi😴

Overall 9/10 good uncle but will stalk her firends and her too

(I used x reader tags only so more people can reach this, theres nothing nasty going on)

[insomniamamma]

Pigment: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

A/N: So this idea was kind of kicking around and then the Writer Wednesday prompt gave me permission. I know for certain that I'm not the only one who headcanons Ezra using writing and drawing as a way of building up dexterity in his non-dominant hand. Apologies if this is too derivative. This is fairly early in the Prickle 'verse timeline. Takes place after "Rain." Reader's nickname is 'Artichoke' but Ezra also calls her 'Prickle' or 'Prickle-girl'. Warnings: Mentions of old injuries. Mentions of violence. Food mentions. A little anxiety on reader's part. Mild language.

           You didn't mean to look. It just kind of happened.

          Acora is a trinary system, two main-sequence stars that orbit each other in a slow precise dance, and way out, past the smattering of gas giants and icy worldlets a T-class brown dwarf that the researchers on the bench nick-named Big Pink. Two suns means that certain times of day are unbearable for suit-work, so the three of you wait in the tent. The pod is mostly powered down, so not to overtax the coolant system and even with the scrubbers and chillers running no one wants to move much. You hear Cee shifting around in the upper bunk, tinny sound from her music player punctuated by snippets of singing. She forgets sometimes and sings aloud. You don't mind. Ezra sits propped up, scribbling in a spiral bound book resting on his knee, scratching away with a nub of graphite pencil. Probably running pull numbers or orbit curves, fuel-to-mass and all that. You wonder why he doesn't just use his tablet. Seems like it would be easier. You try to distract yourself from the rising heat, the tiny pinholes lining the tent's seams that sizzle like little stars, irritatingly bright while you try to read.           It doesn't help that you've read this particular mediocre locked-room mystery multiple times. You already know who done it. That's how it goes. Most decent sized benches have some form of lending library, or at least junk dealers willing to make a trade. Paper books are surprisingly valuable out here. You don't have to charge them. They won't shit out if you drop them. Software glitches or botched updates won't turn them into useless bricks.           Acora is not a decent sized bench. A skeleton crew of ice miners to keep her fueled and the flying, other than that it's all researchers. Geeks studying the workings of a trinary system. All of them seemed a bit wiggy, like when there was a dust storm back home and you'd have to seal everything up and kick on the scrubbers and try not to murder each other while waiting for the sky to come back. These aren't even real storms, your Gran kept saying, we aint had a real storm since they started dropping ice down the well. Still, by day four or five everyone would have tight smiles and big jittery eyes and once you'd watched your two older brothers start beating the shit out of each other in the kitchen because one ate the last sweet roll without sharing and Ma had to wade in with a broom to break it up. Not that you really expected a station full of scientists to start wailing on each other, but it didn't seem like any of them had been off bench in a good while.           The rumpled botanist who's shelling out for live samples from this gruesomely hot little moon exuded that sense of being bottled up in spades. She talked rapidly and told the three of you far more than you needed to know for the task she hired you for, smiling big all the while. Your hand drifted downward to the thrower at your hip. Cee caught the motion and gave a little shake of her head. She was stimmed up to her eyeballs, she'd told you later. My father would get like that sometimes. As long as her money's good, who gives a shit, right? A quick and dirty little job while the freighter unloads and refuels, a three cycle turnover.           You try to settle in and ignore the sweat sliming your skin, juicy rattle of the chillers struggling to cope. Best to wait for first sundown, Ezra told you, we'll still have plenty of light but a lot less heat. You peer at him over your book. He is deep in concentration, taps the eraser end of his pencil against lower lip and then against his forehead as if he could knock his ideas loose, brows pushed together in thought. Kevva, he's got pretty eyes, you think, and he glances up at you, a small smile quirking one side of this mouth and you wonder if you've said it aloud, feel heat creeping into your face.           "Good book?"           "It was the first time through."           "Don't worry," says Ezra, "There'll be better pickings on Tirana. It's just a hop, skip and a jump. You can trade for more reading materials there."           "Hop, skip and a jump," you echo, the both of you knowing full well that you'll be finishing this novel and then re-reading one of the other half dozen you've got stashed under your bunk before you hit Tirana Bench. "Right."           Ezra chuckles and you turn your attention back to this foolish story. Bench-boss's asshole son gets snuffed and the plucky hero has to figure out who did it, all sealed up in a ring with the potential killers, femme fatale ship captain inserting herself into the mess. You know all the twists, familiar as the weight of your suit and body armor on a drop, as Cee's music, as Ezra's snores as he drops off into sleep, soft rasps off to your left, and you feel your own eyes growing heavy as well, a sort of reflexive slide into sleep, too hot to do much else, you rest your book on your chest and let your eyes fall closed, sinking into the unintentional rhythm of tent-noise, the chillers, soupy and rattling from sucking humidity out of the air, small comfort knowing the water is going right into the tanks, that it won't all be cycled piss, Cee's music, some Vayok synth pop she picked up two drops back, Ezra's small snores, and you're almost out yourself, right on the edge, things starting to turn soft and unreal, when a sharp sound snaps you back.

          You push yourself up on your side. Ezra's notebook lays on the dusty floor, face down, front and back covers splayed like wings, pencil not far off. Must've fallen asleep writing. You frown. He's had that notebook since before you've been crew. He would not like to see it wrinkled and left on the floor. You pick it up and brush the dust off, straighten the pages, smooth the wrinkles back down and that’s when you notice that his technical notes are not notes at all, or at least not entirely. He has drawn Cee to the life, the tilt of her head, music player covering her ears, that far-away face she gets when she's listening to something new. A Central-standard date pencilled in beneath. You shouldn't look, you should place it beneath the corner of his bunk where he's got his data pad charging, and his stash of Shock-berry Limited Edition Bitz-Bars (as if he had to stash them, they were nasty on so many levels that you and Cee had handed over your share of them in a wordless trade for the regular kind, better the devil you know).           You flip a page, curiosity getting the better of you. A cluster of heptagonal shapes, and you feel yourself smiling. The fossils on CJ's World, opaline red, winking in the sun as you pulled them out of the soft sediment. A good and easy haul, low risk. You'd seen a rainbow rising out of the distant sharp cut canyons, and found Ezra's hand folded warm around yours. That was a good day, you think, listening to Ezra's soft snores.           "You sure you stripped the aux input panels?" He asks clear as day and you freeze, but then he shifts and the snores resume. One more page, you tell yourself, then we stop being a snoop. The next page bears your face and your name, not 'Artichoke', but the one you signed on the line when you joined this little crew. You in profile, but that can't really be you, can it? You recognize your tactical gear, the webbing that holds your thrower to your thigh, your knife-sheath, the tool belt you wear in place of armor when you're on a friendly drop, but there's a small soft smile on your face, a light in your eyes that he's somehow managed to imply in a few graphite strokes and paper left blank. He's drawing weak-handed, that must be it. You flip the sketch book closed and place it beneath the corner of his bunk with the rest of this things. You lie back in your cot and stare at the  pattern of shifting light over the tent, waiting for your mind to settle. It takes some time.

          Tirana Bench is a ramshackle hub but there are plenty of stalls in the commerce ring to poke around in. This is how it goes. Once the pod is supplied and the next job negotiated, there's usually a little time for the three of you to split up and get whatever incidentals you need for the next leg of your endless trek around the Great Arm, books, music cylinders, special snacks, extra consumables. Used books, a hand lettered sign reads, one for one trade.                    You've left what you mean to trade with the man running the shop, and you've got a few promising novels tucked in the crook of your arm when something else among the junk catches your eye. A flattish metal case the length of your hand opened to show wells of bright pigment, cracked, obviously used but with plenty left, a clutch of fine bristled brushes held together with a bit of string. Paint-kit, the tag reads, near new. You fold it closed and examine it, turn it in your hands. If Cee was here you'd ask what she thought, but she's off somewhere else in the commerce ring, making her own deals.  The label is mostly missing, faded yellow against the plain grey metal. The catch is s small button and when you push it, the lid pops open on its own. That's what sells you. Ezra can open it one handed. You add it to the clutch of books. He's gonna think it's silly, you think, and the proprietor obviously agrees because the trade for the battered tin of colors is two novels.        "That's highway robbery," you grumble.        "Where else you gonna find honest-to-Kevva art supplies in a dump like this? Lose two stories or take your trade elsewhere."        "Fine," you say and take the slimmest two volumes and slide them back across the counter, "We good then?"        "We're good," he says and you tuck the remaining books and paint-kit into the bag slung over your shoulder. "Safe flight, spacer." You nod. Spacer as a form of address still feels weird, like a title you haven't earned. You wonder if that feeling will ever fade, if that small voice that says you have no business out here in the black will ever shut up.

       You find yourself hurrying along the ring, suddenly wanting to reach the pod before anyone else, because now you're wondering how Ezra will react to your gift, your present, and you feel silly. You imagine his brow arched quizzically, what's this now, Artichoke? Kevva. You can almost hear him. If you get to the pod first you can stash your things without the others seeing, your books, your vac-packed saar jerky, some new socks because you wore holes in the ones you'd gone off world in, and this little tin of used but mostly good paints. And then you can just not think about it for a while. Gods this is stupid, why are you so worked up? So nervous at the idea of giving Ezra a gift? This is something friends do for each other. Give each other little trifles. Doesn't mean more than that right?

       Of course Ezra and Cee are both in the pod when you get back, Ez arching an eyebrow at you. You're late, Artichoke. By, like, two sixteenths, says Cee, snapping one of the pods many storage compartments shut, rolling her eyes, you had a good half buffer.        "That half might make the difference between us shoving off without you," says Ezra, "Clear?"        "Clear. It won't happen again," you say, feeling heat rise to your face.        "I trust that it will not."

       You hurriedly stow your things and brace yourself for the change in grav as the can-hauler you're clipped to undocks, the flywheels spinning up to dampen the bench's spin and then transfer their momentum to the freighter's smaller ring, grav meant for passengers and cargoes that can't tolerate microgravity, a sick sideways upward lurch and it still doesn't feel right, you find yourself breathing hard, swallowing saliva that tastes metallic.        "Here," says Ezra, reaches across and hands you a wrapped piece of candy, "Spice-root. It'll help your stomach. Hold it in your mouth for a spell. You'll be alright." You take the offered candy and tuck it into your cheek.        "I always keep some of this on hand," says Ezra, "You never know when your inner ear's gonna decide that you're going backwards and sideways all at once." You try to slow your breathing and just listen to him talk, Ezra's voice is like a warm steadying hand.        "Amateur," says Cee, with a teasing grin. You crunch your spice root candy between your teeth and give her the finger. Ezra chuckles.        "Seems like you're about back to normal, there, Prickle-girl."

       Privacy is an odd thing living in a drop pod for extended periods. Clipped to a bench it's not so bad, there are places you can go, things you can look at, food stalls, bars and the like. You can get away from each other for a little bit. Clipped to a freighter? It's been a mixed bag so far. Depends on the ship. Depends on the whims of them flying her. At best there might be a grotty little mess hall where you can get a hot meal. At worst you are locked down in your pod, with no view and nothing but the same shit rations you eat downworld.        It's not entirely unfamiliar, being cooped up. The winds would kick up so high back home that the sand and flying dust could scrape you raw and bloody if you got caught out in it. Privacy is a matter of claiming it, and everyone agreeing to it. When Cee has her music player over her ears, you and Ezra know not to bother her, likewise when you are reading, or when Ezra is running points or calculations or drawing. Silence will fall between the three of you. Not unwelcome. Just everyone doing their thing, usually after you've eaten your last meal of the day, no rules, just an easy habit the three of you have fallen into.        Except tonight you can't seem to settle in. You've read the first five pages of the horror novel you traded for on Tirana Bench at least a half-dozen times. It's not that the story or writing's bad, you just can't concentrate. That little metal box in your storage compartment is burning bright in your mind like a lump of radioactive material. You glance over at Cee. She's fast asleep, music player knocked askew. You know eventually she'll take it off in her sleep. Ezra is still awake. Of course he is. Better now than when Cee is awake. She'd probably roll her eyes and call you a goof-ass, but it's not her judgement you worry about. She'd probably also tell you to quit waffling. You abandon your novel on your crash couch and fetch the paint kit from your storage locker.        "Hey, Ezra?"        "Yeah?" You turn to him, holding the little box behind your back.        "I, uh, found something I thought you'd like. On the bench." He's sitting up on the edge of his crash couch, legs hanging over, sketchbook spread across his lap, looking at you expectantly. You offer him the paint-kit. He looks at the battered metal box and then back up at you, that little line starting to stitch itself between his eyebrows. You feel yourself starting to smile a little at his confusion.        "Push the button," you say and he does and the dented lid springs up.  You set the box on the sketchpad, flat surface folded open and step back, hands worrying at each other. Ezra raises his hand to his mouth. His face runs through a complication of emotions.        "I saw some of your drawings. I didn't mean to pry, you fell asleep and dropped your book and I didn't think you wanted it getting all dirty, and I saw this kit and thought you might like to try some colors," Your face and neck go hot. You're rambling. "I mean, you always say how you gotta have the right tools for a job and I saw this and figured I'd get you some tools. It doesn't mass much more than a book. I thought--"        "Get me a squeeze bulb with some water, yeah?"        "Yeah okay," you say, and snag a squeeze, "You're gonna try it now? It's kind of late-" Ezra makes a dismissive noise.        "We've got fifteen and a quarter cycles cooling our heels in this pod," says Ezra. You look at him and he is beaming, dimples sunk into his scruffy cheeks, eyes warm and crinkled, he glows and you feel yourself warmed by him, feel yourself mirroring his smile.

       "Plenty of time to sleep," you say and plop down next to him with the squeeze bottle of water, "I think this big well is meant for the water."        "I think so too," says Ezra, and his smile falters slightly, "Can you hold the paints for me? I can finagle some sort of lap board later, maybe one of the grading trays--"        "Sure, Ez, I've got you." You rest the box on your knee so he can reach. Ezra wets the brush and dips it into one of the paint-wells, long dried pigments soaking up into the fibers. He strokes the bristles over the paper, a long blue squiggle, experimenting with pressure and thickness. Dips a second brush into the clean water and uses it to draw the blue across the paper, staining the fibers, fading color like some sort of magic trick.        "How do you know how to do that?" Ezra shrugs.        "My mother drew and painted when she had the time," he says, "I used to watch her and she'd let me try my hand at it, but I was never any good."        "Well that's bullshit," you say. The blue squiggle becomes a fractal pattern, an oxbow river seen from orbit.        "It's not though," says Ezra, rinsing the blue out and going for a deep green, "Cee got me my first blank book. I had to teach my weak hand how to be clever. I meant to teach myself how to write again. I'd copy out my letters over and over and my hand would cramp after a spell. Drawing helped me loosen back up." A constellation of green dots and drips make a forest, tiny pink pin-pricks a field of flowers.        "My handwriting is still utter dogshit though," he muses, fully focused on the sketchbook in his lap, "Funny how that works."        "Kevva might take a lot from you, but she always gives something back," you say, one of your Gran's expressions popping out of your mouth unbidden.        "Just so, Artichoke, just so."

[moriihana]

we can't fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || intro: dammit, nugget!

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won't leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

content: fluff, angst

warnings: references to child abuse, mention of getting kicked out, inaccurate depictions of abandoned locations lmfao

word count: 777 words

a/n: this was originally written with my self-insert in mind. therefore the reader already has a backstory and a set personality; i just decided to make it into a reader-insert since there aren't a lot of disabled reader fics and i really like how i've written this so far. this is also just the intro, i have the next two chapters written and will be posting as well!

*previously known as "we can't fix each other (but we can heal our wounds together)"; i changed the title bc these assholes aint healin shit they're just being overall menaces

AO3 link

masterlist ; next →

It was sunny out. That’s the first thing you always remembered about the day your parents kicked you out. It was warm and there were kids laughing on the sidewalk. You always thought that on days terrible things happened, it’d be pouring down rain. Overcast and dreary, no laughter to be found.

The second thing you always remembered was the yelling. The absolute disgust and disappointment in your mother’s voice, the disdain in your father’s. The insults slung at your face, as if asking to be treated like a person was a sin. You were tired of absorbing your father’s pain, you’ve been doing it since you were eight years old. Isn’t a decade long enough? You were so tired.

The final thing you always remembered was the panic. You were disabled, had no friends to flee to, no money. What were the essentials? What would you need? What important things can you spare room for? 

You laughed to yourself as you thought about it. It’d been eight months since that day, and while being homeless sucked—like, really sucked—it beat living with your parents. You even found a stray dog and cat to call your pets—you named them Boo and Nugget. Boo was a sweet thing, a medium-sized lab mix as black as night, with splotches of white on her chin and chest. She was skittish at first, but always wagged her tail after a few weeks. She was still puppy-like, probably only a year old. Nugget was a little fiend, always getting into things and getting around. He loved cuddles and would demand them at all times. He was weaned off milk, though he was quite small and still not old enough to be called an adult cat, you thought.

You found a mostly finished abandoned apartment complex to call “home,” one far enough away from the heroes’ usual patrol routes and police stations. It was missing the doors and some finishing touches, but that was about it. You had only had two close-calls at being caught since moving into the place. Even though it was rundown and more often than not, you found Nugget carrying a dead mouse into your apartment, it was home. Nobody came near it, since it was rumoured to be cursed.

Tch. Cursed. Perfect place for us street rats, huh? You snorted, scratching under Boo’s chin. Your head snapped up at the sound of heavy footfalls in the hall. Ah, shit. Fuck. Hope that’s not a cop. 

Boo started to growl, her hackles raising along her spine. Nugget jumped down from his spot on a rickety chair, intrigued by the sound.

“Boo, no, quiet—Nugget, what are you doing, get back here—” You hissed, scrambling to get their pets to calm. Probably not a cop. No radio chatter. Only one set of footsteps. Not a hero, either. Usually those are followed by fan's incessant yapping. Another street rat?

Boo continued to growl, backing away from the doorway. Nugget, on the other hand, darted out faster than you could catch him. 

“Oh, for fucks’ sake, Nugget!”

The footsteps stopped.

Well. Shit. That’s… probably not good. Dammit, Nugget!  

You reached for your cane and heaved yourself off the floor, inching towards the doorway to look into the hall. You stopped immediately when you saw a young man with black hair, covered in deep scars—damn, those look like they would’ve hurt—holding Nugget in his arms.

“You are… holding my cat. Could you. Put him down maybe?” You laughed nervously. The young man startled, gaze snapping to you.

“I didn’t know anyone was here.” Oh. He has a nice voice. What the fuck.

“I try to make it seem like that, yes. Street rats aren’t viewed kindly by authorities.” You shifted your weight, setting aside your cane and leaning against the doorframe. Nugget wiggled out of the young man’s arms, circling around his legs a couple times before trotting happily back to you. “Nugget, you little shit, what have I said about running off…? You’re gonna get us into trouble one of these days,” you grumbled, picking him up.

The young man huffed and began to walk off, seemingly disinterested in you. 

“Oi, if you’re lookin’ for a place to crash, this one’s good. Cops don’t come around, nor do heroes. Place is cursed, haven’t ya’ heard?” You piped up. The young man paused mid-step. “‘s got running water and electricity, too, surprisingly. Builders up and ran off.”

“You have zero clue who I am, yet you’re offering to share this place. You’re an odd one, little mouse.” He turned to look at you. “... the name’s Dabi.”

You grinned. “I’m Y/N. Nice t’meet ya, Dabi.”