#A DRAGONFLY JUST LANDED ON MY KNEE

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

T-T still too fuckin hot

I hate summer

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 55 : Magic lesson

First magic lesson for the cubs!!

“Today is an important day.” Chirped Wukong as he turned towards his children. They were currently just outside the water-curtain cave; the sage spent the last few days making sure every beast roaming on his land knew about his children, and thus knew not to mess with them. As such, he was more at ease with them being outside the cave. He still didn't let them explore the mountain alone, that was a no go. 

Savage looked up at him with a wagging tail, she knew what was coming and she couldn't help but be excited about it. Rumble was more excited about the dragonfly buzzing around the waterfall, he kept observing it silently, following each of its movements with rapt attention. 

“Today is gonna be your first lesson on magic.” Hummed Wukong. For now, only Savage showed signs of magic but both him and Macaque agreed that it was better to include Rumble in the lessons. Perhaps, he would awaken his own magic later on? 

Savage tugged on her brother's arm in excitement, Rumble broke his staring contest with the dragonfly and calmly turned towards Wukong. Now that they were both older, it was the perfect time for lessons, especially since it would be dangerous if Savage kept letting her magic fizzle out without any control whatsoever. 

“So magic.” Hummed Wukong. “I want you both to close your eyes.” Both cubs listened to him, even if Savage was still vibrating with palpable excitement. “Do you feel the energy flowing within you?”

“I feel my stomach rumbling.” Chirped Savage. Wukong face-palmed. 

“That's not it, bud. You're just hungry.” Snorted the great sage, he gave her a tiny piece of peach that she gobbled down in one go. “What about you, Rum? Do you feel it?”

“I feel warm.” Hummed the lil guy. Well, Wukong could work with that, even if he didn't know if this warmess was due to the mountain's sunny climate or magic. 

“There is an energy inside of you.” Resumed Wukong. “That's what you use when you transform, Sav.” Savage perked up at that. “I want you both to concentrate and tune in with this energy. Feel it moving. Changing course. Magic is like a river flowing in your body. It flows. And flows.”

“It's calm.” Mumbled Rumble, at the same time his sister said “It's wild.”

Wukong chuckled, amused. “Magic is different for everyone. It can be as calm as a quiet lake, or as wild as a stormy ocean.” The great sage opened one eye and glanced at his cubs, he could see little sparks dancing around them. For now, it would be great if they accustomed themselves with this energy. Control it. 

“Aw, I thought we would learn some spells!” Whined Savage. 

“What spells do you want to learn?” Chuckled Wukong. 

“Cloud!!” Cheered the lil devil. 

“I don't know, clouds are pretty advanced magic…” Savage got up and ran towards him, she pawed at his knees with her lil paws, looking every bit like a kicked puppy. Wukong tried to resist. He really did try. But he couldn't win against her puppy eyes. Who could really? “Alright, okay… Clouds are summoned by magic, whether their answer to your call is another story. What we do is that we ask them to come down by releasing our voices in the winds, remember to be polite, okay? You remember the energy you felt? Try to imbue it in your voice, then release it in the sky with all you can!”

Savage nodded, she tried for a while without success, then finally she let out a loud “Please!” and a tiny stormy cloud descended. 

“Your cloud isn't like that, Pa.” Pointed out Rumble, which was true. Nimbus, the cloud he frequently called, was white and fluffy. The cloud that answered Savage’s call was a tiny piece of storm, graying, with rumbling thunder. 

“I like it!” Chirped Savage as she pawed at it. The cloud rumbled, as if agreeing, and a tiny bolt fizzled out of it, making her fur puff out. Wukong sweatdropped. Well, that was a cloud alright. The tiny stormy cloud disappeared after a few seconds. “Awww.” Whined Savage. 

“You'll be able to summon it longer the more you train.” Hummed Wukong. Savage perked up at that. 

The great sage wondered if his daughter would ride on a freaking storm once she would be older. Gods, the mere idea of it was terrifying, but somehow in character.

+ cut scenes

Macaque : Wukong you gotta stop feeding Sav everytime she tells you she's hungry. Snacking is not healthy.😮‍💨

Wukong : but her tiny belly rumbles 🥺

 

Wukong : Don't tell your dad I let you call a cloud 😅

Savage : 🤐

Rumble : 😐.... If you give me new crayons.

Wukong :... Deal 🤝

Rumble : 🤐

 

Savage during the lesson : 😆🤩

Rumble during the lesson : 🧐🤔

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Dragonfly [TEASER]

zhongli/f.reader

genre: morax/zhongi, immortal!cursed!reader, miko/shrinemaiden!reader, angst, romance, hurt/comfort(?), slow burn, traveler is NOT y/n, implied xiao/traveler,

warning(s) for the full fic will include!!: mentions of death/repetitive deaths, mentions of war, mentions of past suicides, the suffering of immortality in a mortal body, for the sake of this fic dragonflies are semi-common in teyvat/liyue lol, xiao considers zhongli/reader parental figures, things will definitely not follow canon timelines (probably), Xiao is a frequent/important character, characters may be ooc (im sorry)

w.count: 13.6k (pre-edit)

a/n: this is a small snippet of babies first genshin fic featuring zhongli!! its only about 1.1k words long and appears about 3.5k words into the full story lol. im currently in the process of editing since the full thing is fully written!!

...

The dragonfly’s respite did not last. The little critter’s wings began to hum again and soon began to hover off and before Morax could stop his feet, he found himself following it. Not long from where had previously stood, he stopped at seeing where the small insect had flown to in lieu of himself. 

The eyes of the archon landed on the first person Morax had seen since entering the temple- although uninvited, presence unknown and undetected. Reaching out a delicate hand with her index finger extended, the dragonfly landed easily on the appendage. 

A priestess knelt elegantly in the tall grass, previously inspecting herbs when she heard the familiar buzz of wings. The hakama pants that folded at her legs were neatly pleaded without a crease out of place and her kosode tucked perfectly into the trousers- not a wrinkle to critque. Her hair had been loosing tied back with a red hair ribbon that fluttered in the breeze that kept the tall grass swaying like waves of spring. 

The wind picked up when the dragonfly lifted off her fingers and off back towards Morax. It was like the little creature had led him straight to her and now was directing her vision back so they could meet. 

It was all thanks to that one, small bug that Morax and first made eye contact with you.

“Oh,” your small voice of surprise- at seeing such an odd looking man in the overgrown, private gardens of the temple- carried on the same wind that the dragonfly danced in. You stood and dusted off your knees, knocking any sticking dirt off your bottoms before standing up properly. You inspected the man in front of you.

Arms dark as dirt with cracks of glowing gold. Clad in a white cloak that split three ways down his waist with a hood pulled over his head. The hair you could see whipping lightly in the wind behind his back was dark in color matching his arms. His boots added a heeled inch of two to his already impressive stature and you could already tell he wasn’t exactly something mortal. It would be ridiculous to think so just at the side of his arms alone, not to mention the air around him seemed so… powerful. 

“My apologies, I wasn’t aware we were expecting a guest today,” the courteous smile you sent him made him wonder if you weren’t at least a little apprehensive of his unexpected presence. 

“You weren’t made aware because no one aside from yourself is aware of my being here.” 

“I see,” you muse. “I hope you are aware that qualifies you as a trespasser.” 

“Trespasser?” Morax gapped, losing his composure for a moment. His brows dipped in offense, his pride kicking into his throat through his words. “I am no such being.” 

“Ah, but aren’t you? You said yourself, no one knows you’re here. Yet, you end up in the presence of this temple’s Miko. If that does not mean you’re trespassing, what does?” Morax’s eyes hidden under his hair and hood flick from your head to your feet and back up again. You were the head shrine maiden of the temple? You seemed so young and yet you held such an important position? It planted a pebble of doubt in him.

Then again, if he focused on you properly, he could barely see a small circular arua around your frame. It was like a barrier was placed around you, one protected you from the outside and anything that could taint you. Honing your spiritual power like that so young, he almost tutted in impressiveness if you hadn’t challenged his very being moments ago. 

Still, Miko or not, he still outranked you. Crossing his arms over his chest, his golden-lined arms pulsed with a soft light. 

“With such skills you claim, are you still so unaware when a God stands before you? A pity.” 

“On the contrary,” you smile to him and his brow twitches at your nonchalance. “I’m being quite respectful if you want my opinion. If you were simply a noble who lives among the palace homes, I would’ve quickly dealt with you since only a select few from outside our open walls who are allowed entry into the temple. Much less this garden which is private to my attendance only.” 

“Are you implying you could force me away at any moment should you please?” His voice grew tight in challenge. His sense of traquilty from before discovering you was dimming and the frigid air of his battle sense were returning even as the wind continued to caress you both. 

“I assure you I would do no such thing. I’m simply proving that even in the presence of a God, I will not yield since I do not even know which is in front of me. Not to mention, this is land has no God to speak of or for.” 

Oh. 

Morax felt something stir in his chest at the teasing tilt in your voice that spilled over your lips that curled into a smile. Your eyes were so clean and clear, it was like staring into crystals and he had the urge to create a new form of geo just to replicate them. The feeling was foreign to him, but it shocked him greatly when he realized it wasn’t unwelcome stir. 

He finally dropped his crossed arms and began to decrease the distance between you both. Morax came to stand in front of you so he could get an even better look at your features. As such, you could now look easily under his hood as he stood above you. His eyes seemed to glow a lovely shade of amber that complemented his glowing, golden skin and dark hair. 

“Address me as, Morax,” he instructed. Your taunting smile turned soft and wide as your eyes closed in the most pleased expression he had seen in years. His amber eyes widened at the innocence and the small bells of laughter that left your throat towards him shook his unshaking core. 

“That’s much better,” you said obviously now pleased. “I’m, y/n. It’s an honor to meet you, Morax.” 

It was his name rolling off your tongue- spreading into the wind that had blown harshly for but a moment- that sent an earthquake that started at his chest and spread through his whole body. It was the sound of his own death sentence and he was once again shocked at how he easily accepted that he would definitely be back to this temple. Be back to this garden of overgrown grass and floral.  Morax would definitely be back to you.

a/n: thoughts? opinions? pls im so anxious i could throw up over this LOL

[cheesus-doodles]

What about Toman Boys with a reader who knows/does karate. Not exactly like Red Dragonfly reader. Do you think they would try to convince the reader to quit, or would they encourage it?

Masterlist

‎

Received a surprisingly number of requests on this previously! Sorry it took so long to get back to yall :’) I’m trying my best

Ahh so I take this to mean that reader knows karate like Mikey? Absolutely they would convince you to quit, by force even if it comes down to it. Don't think it matters if you were a competitive fighter, that you had a black belt, that you insist that you could hold your own against other delinquents; if you couldn't beat Draken or Mikey, let alone Mitsuya or Baji then you simply weren't strong enough to do karate. And it doesn't matter one ounce to your Toman friends how much you protested that Mikey has literally never been defeated or that Baji can take 50 guys on his own, and that each and every single founder was a monster on in their own right, even in the violent world of gangs and delinquents.

It wasn't just about the unsightly bruises that marked your skin after each fight, or worse, having to watch you dislodge joints or get knocked unconscious. Kazutora would by far be the most affected by all this “unnecessary violence”, which coming form a delinquent such as himself is hilarious, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh at those watery eyes. More so the fact that one, with growing strength meant an increased chance that you didn’t need them to protect you anymore, two, that you were actively interacting with a community that was beyond their control, and three and most importantly - you were allowing others to leave a mark, their mark, on you. Unacceptable. The cons of karate were way more than the pros of allowing you to learn self-defence, even the more tolerant of the boys (Pah, Mitsuya and Draken) could clearly see that. Which means it was time to put a stop to this nonsense for good.

But the boys wouldn't make you promise or swear that if you couldn't beat them, you couldn't learn or practice anymore karate - oh no no. That would make them the enemies that took something you loved away from you, and the last thing these Toman boys wanted was to drive you away into the arms of someone else that might be more... supportive. No, your friends would probably go for the alternate route of making karate so miserable for you that you would willingly give it up of your own accord: they would offer to train you themselves. It wouldn’t even seem that far fetch an idea, Mikey’s family owning and running a dojo that he and Baji had been training at since young, and with the other four being strong enough to be your practice dummies despite knowing no karate themselves. All six boys would be more than happy to spar with you though, but let it be known that they wouldn’t be holding back as much as you originally thought, no matter how much the thought of hurting you on purpose weighed down Mitsuya, Draken, Baji and Pah, with Mikey and Kazutora feeling no such guilt. At least with them offering to be the ones training and sparring with you, they manage to convince you to pull out from that stupid-ass karate class with all those dangerous strangers - you were only safe with them.

Starts off as them landing hits that would leave you with …inconvenient bruises and injuries. The crook of your elbow would start to creak and hurt when you tried to bend with the number of kicks and punches you were catching there, same with your knee. Not only walking would become a chore, but cooking and even writing. And when that fails to convince you to give up your little lessons, Mikey and Kazutora are quick to escalate, hitting out with enough force to pop a join, then fracture a bone. Passes it off as an accident, a hit too hard - they had thought you had reached that level already, and with those teary eyes and dramatic waterworks, no doubt you believed them, and forgiveness quickly followed. After all, Mikey, Baji, Kazutora, they were all your beloved friends; they would never do something so horrendous to you on purpose would they?

Anything got to do with karate, they would make sure it becomes associated with inconvenience, pain and suffering. Trust me, it hurts them as much as it hurts you - Baji and Draken are always ready with ice packs, Pah with a cold drink and something light to eat, Kazutora with his waterworks, and Mitsuya brings you to the doctor or hospital whenever something happens. They don't like to see you suffer, but if that's what they need to make you understand that this isn't good for you, then its just temporary pains to keep you safe in the long run. After all, they didn't want you to get the idea that you could take someone on without their help after learning some rudimentary self defence, not with your fragile body that couldn't even take a hit from them.

And if you do ask to go back to your normal lessons, Mikey makes it a point to beat your entire karate class - instructor included - just to show you how weak they were in comparison, and of course deter them from taking you back. Best to just give it up before this boy considers breaking both of your legs to teach you a real lesson.

[the-sidekick-club]

Enemy of my enemy is my kid!

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Epilogue

Written by:

@tratieisdabest★@heroes-villains-side-blog​​★@just-a-space-rabbit​​  

TW: Death mention, Kidnapping, Torture mention, Death threats, Attempted murder, Violence, Daggers

 ıllıllı ➎...➍...➌...➋...➊... ıllıllı

A tired and monotone voice spoke "Welcome to Nizorro Blimp News with Dawn and Dima." The usual studio logo and jingle quickly flashed on the screens, before cutting to a pan of the anchors on the blimp. 

“Coming to you live from the news blimp, this is your eye in the sky…” Dima started but quickly stopped, looking over confused at their co-host. “Dawn?”

“Oh... um… Hello, goodmoring, and hi...” Dawn said in a sleepy and exhausted tone. 

“Yes, folks, as you can see it’s been a long night in the news blimp,” Dima said, trying to sound like her normal self. “This is the 8 o'clock morning news.”

Dima braced herself so she could calmly deliver the next words, “First off, an update on the Masked Mender case. It has now been a full 12 hours since the disappearance of the hero sidekick, The Masked Mender. Mender went missing during their patrol last evening. Her last known location was close to Monument Street at 19:37, where she reported that she had begun the tracking of known villain, The Shadow Man, who is still the main suspect in this case.” Dima looked over at her unusually quiet co-host; she could tell that Dawn was clearly worried. 

“All available heroes are still out searching, but there has been no official update from the agency. However there has been a rumour that Lady Alexandria has gotten in contact with Hirra, Masked Mender’s long-time rival and Shadow Man’s very own sidekick. No one knows if the rumours are true, or what it means if they are, but we can only hope for the best. And we will update you all as soon as we can…” 

 ❘〣❘〣❘★ Enemy of my enemy: Part 4 ★❘〣❘〣❘

“Get a move on!” the henchman yelled as he dragged Mender out of the small cell and in among the group. Mender, confused and scared, still tried her best to get an overview of the situation. But as soon as she and Shadows were out the door they were both blinded by sharp spotlights. 

The last they saw was a glimpse of Dragonfly who had begun to fly around the room, while his men cheered him on. 

Mender let out a small yelp in pain as the henchman suddenly made a hard tug on her shoulder. She wasn't sure if the henchman was doing it on purpose, as her entire body was beginning to feel sensitive from the powers suppressing cuffs draining her healing powers. 

After another push, she and Shadows fell forward, landing on their knees in the middle of the room. There was a wince from Shadows as he hit the floor next to her, clearly still in pain from the beating earlier. The cheering only grew louder and, looking around, it seemed that Dragonfly had gathered every henchman he had to the old warehouse they were in. Clearly, Dragonfly wanted to make a show out of whatever he was planning.

Then, all the cheering stopped as Dragonfly landed in front of the two captives. The atmosphere was thick as he smirked down at them. Suddenly, he yelled “Tie these two up!” 

The people on the floor above them cheered as the group below swarmed Mender and Shadows. The henchmen made quick work of the two despite them trying to get loose from all the ropes binding them in place.

“Hoist them up!” Dragonfly yelled, now from above them.

Mender's stomach made a jump as she lost touch with the ground. Normally, she wouldn't mind, as she often lept from building to building, but when it was by someone else's will, it was unnerving. Shadows, however, still had his quips, it seemed, “Really? Dangling over a pit? You’re just as unoriginal a villain as you were a hero!” he yelled as they came to a halt, hanging together in mid air.

“Bold words from someone at my mercy. Besides, it's not unoriginal, it's a classic!” Dragonfly answered smugly.

It was only now that Mender noticed that the power suppressing cuffs had finally been taken off, not that it was of much help to either of them now. They were both exhausted from the after effects; Shadows couldn't use his shadow-teleportation abilities, and Mender's body was ever so slowly healing itself. There was no chance either of them could escape that way, and it seemed neither had a backup plan. 

“Classic? Ha!” Shadows laughed. 

This confused Mender, ‘How can he laugh at this?’ she thought.

“So you like classic? What's next, then, Grandpa?” he mocked. “Gonna bind Mender to the railroad? Or bring out the shark tank? Ooh, or maybe piranhas, which is stupid by the way. Most can't even hurt humans. But, hey, you're too dumb to know tha–"

“Shut it!” Dragonfly snapped. “I’m only doing it as it’s needed to demonstrate the true power of the most dangerous weapon ever created!” Dragonfly tried to sound threatening, but he was clearly still salty from the insults.

“What do you even stand to gain from this?” Mender asked, before yelling  “Besides making an enemy out of everyone – both heroes and villains!” 

“Because, little one,” Dragonfly snickered, as he flew close to Mender’s face, “You can’t have fame without enemies!” 

“Of course, you can!” Shadow said, kicking in the air to make him and Mender rotate so he faced Dragonfly. “You just need time and discipline. Two things you sorely lack!” 

“I do have both time and discipline!” Dragonfly snapped back at Shadows. “Do you really think it was easy to track down Professor Andaka? NO! It took months of hard work!” 

“Professor Andaka?” Mender thought out loud. “Wait, it was you who kidnapped and killed Professor Andaka?! Why? What could you possibly stand to gain from that?” she said as the dots were now forming in her head. They still weren't connecting though. But Dragonfly just chuckled darkly, sending shivers up Mender's spine.

“Ah, yes. Almost forgot that you were a hero sidekick. With the way Shadows seems to protect you, one would almost think that you were his kid instead. Bet you heard a thing or two about good old Andaka and the Emanation and Growth Genesis, the last few weeks” he smirked at Mender’s face that was now filled with horror – clearly she did, she knew exactly what was about to happen to them.

He continued. “Professor Andaka, was a weak fool for not understanding the gift given to him.” 

“Professor Andaka was a better man than you’ll ever be!” Shadows yelled, far angrier than Mender had ever heard him before. Ane if she could've seen him, she would've noticed his watery eyes. 

“Oof, touchy subject there? Forgot that you actually looked up to that old fool.” Dragonfly said mockingly as he flew further away from the two captives. “Not my fault he never succeeded, all I did was take what he started and bring it over the finish line! Now, let’s show it to them!” he yelled at the engineers below.

On cue, the tall curtains opened up, finally revealing the corruption of Andaka’s dream. Shadow looked horrified. “In the notebook of that old coot,” Dragonfly began monologuing, “he talked about the struggle to suppress the E.G.G.'s powers. When activated, it would drain any and all Aura out of a person, leaving nothing but a petrified statue, but for some reason, he seemed to think that it was a problem. I disagree. It was never and will never be a tool because it’s a weapon! And I am not a coward for being willing to use it!”

“Only a coward would resort to killing unless absolutely necessary! You are an evil excuse for a person!” Mender yelled and while she couldn't see it, Shadows gave a small smile at that one. But Dragonfly ignored her as he signalled the engineers, who all began the activation process.

“I wonder who will be brave enough to call me a coward when I become the most powerful and famous villain in the world! And what a start to my legacy: to be known as the villain who finally defeated the legendary Shadow Wraith!”

“Sir, we are ready to go in 120 seconds!” the main engineer called out. 

“Start the countdown,” Dragonfly ordered back before turning to the other two. “Shame how the little hero fledgeling ended up mixed up in all this.” He said in a mocking tone “I don’t need a healer right now, and the ransom that the agency is willing to pay for the return of a sidekick is just not worth the work. So, off she goes. But it’s nothing personal, just villain business.”

“That’s not true!” Mender yelled, but before she could continue, Dragonfly had already soared out of range. She felt her heart pound against her chest as all the henchmen began chanting along with the numbers. Then in all the panic, she suddenly felt a hand. 

“Hey…” Shadows said in a soft voice as he grabbed her other hand. 

“Are monsters good at maths?” he asked.

“What?” Mender replied, confused.

“Not unless you Count Dracula…” 

Mender’s panic seemed to subside a little, replaced with confusion. ‘Egging on a villain with the power to end you is one thing, but now he’s making maths jokes?!’

60 seconds... 59 seconds... 58 seconds... 

“Sorry” He said after some silence, “force of habit… I always joke with Hirra in stressful or dangerous situations… helps calm her nerves. Also, I’m not giving Dragonfly any more attention. So yeah…”

“I see...” Mender answered, thinking a bit before asking, “um… do you have any more jokes?” 

Mender was not sure, but she could almost feel Shadows smiling as he began, “Who’s the king of the pencil case?”

42 seconds… 41 seconds… 40 seconds... 

“I don’t know? Who’s the king of the pencil case?”

“The ruler.” Shadow said, smiling as he felt Mender begin to relax.

Then there was a sudden “Hey, what are you doing! You're supposed to be crying about the fact that you’re about to DIE!” Dragonfly yelled as he noticed that neither of them were focusing on the situation. 

35 seconds... 34 seconds… 33 seconds…

But before he was able to take Mender’s concentration Shadow started again louder this time “What’s the smartest kind of tree? A geomeTREE!” At that Mender gave a small giggle; geometry had been her favourite kind of math in high school.

So… when Dragonfly yelled “STOP!”... 

Of course, he did one more. 

“Do you know why seven eight nine?”

“Why?”

19 seconds… 18 seconds… 17 seconds… 

“Because you’re supposed to eat three square meals a day!”

He knew he had her, as Mender began laughing out loud. And the angry yelling from Dragonfly became an incoherent mess. “ARRRR!!! Shut up! STOP LAUGHING!!! YOU LITTLE—”

3 seconds… 2 seconds… 1 second… 

The entire building shook and smoke filled the room. For a few seconds, Mender thought she had truly died as the shock wave hit her and Shadows, sending them swinging backwards in full force. As Mender's ears were finally able to hear again, the first thing she was greeted with was a loud scream “NOOOOOOO! My weapon!” turning around Mender saw Dragonfly land by the rubble of what was once his master weapon. 

Mender looked down in shock as the engineers shakily got back on their feet “What happened?” one of them asked.

“The idiot probably built it wrong,” Shadows said smugly. There was still smoke coming from the machine and people were running about everywhere. The two looked down at Dragonfly as he tried to get a grip on what happened. 

Then, there was suddenly another loud bang coming from one of the walls of the base! “Oh, great! It's really my day!” Dragonfly cried as he jumped into the air and began to soar. All eyes shot upwards just in time for someone to break through. 

“Alexandria!” Mender and Shadows beamed when Lady Alexandria came into view. 

“And Hirra too!” Hirra yelled, smiling, as she appeared from behind Lady Alexandria with her favourite sword in her hand. 

“You brought Hirra? Here?” Shadows' look of gratefulness was replaced by a deadly glare. Lady Alexandria was unfazed though. 

“Sorry, but she just wouldn't take no for an answer!” she said, shrugging. Before turning her focus to Dragonfly who had moved up all the way to Shadows and Mender “You better have a good explanation for this!” she yelled out to him.

“What, I am just trying to deal with two trespassers, nothing out of the ordinary,” Dragonfly waved dismissively. “And I guess now I have more pests to deal with.” 

Suddenly, he signalled to his guards, who began charging at them. They were quick, but Alexandria was quicker. Wasting no time, she grabbed her famous shield and tossed it at full speed towards Dragonfly who went down with a bang at the other side of the room.

Then, just before the henchmen was about to reach them both, she grabbed onto Hirra and tossed her into the air towards Mender and Shadows. Soaring through the air, she cut through the main rope in one slice. The only thing Hirra heard as she continued in her forward momentum was Mender screaming as she fell backward on top of Shadows after he fell to the ground first with a loud thud.

But Hirra had no time to check on them, as she landed on the boxes next to the now grounded Dragonfly, who barely just got the nearly 40 kg shield off of him. 

They both locked eye contact with each other. 

Hirra may be smaller than Dragonfly, but she was clearly capable, and the other villain wasn't unaware. Dragonfly gulped almost cartoonishly when he realised Hirra was about to go for him. 

“Not so brave now without your henchmen, are you?!” Hirra snarled as Dragonfly finally tossed the shield off him and got up. 

“Isn't it past your bedtime or something?” he said, trying to regain composure as Hirras eyes practically lit up with rage.

“You tried to hurt them! I won't let you get away with this!” She pounced forward and began to move to attack him but Dragonfly was too fast.

The attack was quick, and in one swift moment Hirra fell back several feet and landed on the floor, while Dragonfly started to bolt past her to the exit. 

Scrambling to get back up on her feet in time, Hirra turned towards Dragonfly who was nearing the exit, and in one continuous motion she created a small knife and tossed it towards him, before she fell back down. What followed was a loud ear-piercing scream as one of Dragonfly’s wings fell off, but that didn’t stop him from running. 

The last Hirra heard of him was an angry “I’ll get you for this!”

Hirra sat in shock looking at the fallen wing before she remembered. Looking back to where Shadows and Mender had fallen, the anger in her face shifted to worry, a single whisper slipped her, “Dad…?”

While Hirra had dealt with Dragonfly, Lady Alexandria had made quick work of all of his men. They seemed to take the hint after she easily picked one of them up and tossed them at a whole group, sending them all to the floor. There was full chaos, as they all began to flee out the same hole that she had made only minutes prior.

Meanwhile, down in the pit, Mender had gotten loose from all the tangled ropes, then she had dragged a barely moving Shadows away from the centre to hide, before trying her best to heal him.

One by one, Mender used what little energy and power she had available to heal all his broken bones. Even with the gentlest touch she could give, Shadows still winced in pain as the area began to glow. After going over both feet that had broken in the fall, she made sure Shadows did not have any critical damage, then she stopped. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t heal you any more than-” she began, but he interrupted her.

“Don’t apologise! Thank you! And don’t worry, I have a healer friend that can patch me up when I get home.”

Mender just nodded in response. There was a sudden silence between the two, as all the fighting around them began to calm down. 

“Sorry that I got you into this,” Shadow said, breaking the silence. “I… I should have noticed you. This is all my fault.” 

Mender only looked at him curiously.

“You’re getting good at sneaking though” he continued. “I had no idea you were following me,” he chuckled, only to regret it immediately as pain overcame him. 

There was a sudden yell from above as Hirra jumped down and ran to them both. “Dad- uh.. S-Shadows!”

“Hirra! There you are!” Shadows smiled as she sat down next to him.

“Is he going to be alright?” she asked, looking over to Mender. 

Mender sat down on the other side of Shadows and answered in a tired voice “I have done everything I can.”

“Don't worry, Dagger,” Shadows said, trying to be cheerful. “I’m in a little pain, but I’ll be fine. Mender healed me as best she could with the little energy she had to give.”

Hirra just nodded, as she made a little sniffle while holding back tears. She was silent for a moment before finally speaking “I… I cut one of Dragonfly’s wings off” she said in a tone of mixed feelings.

“Did you? So that was what that scream was?” Shadows asked her, holding her hand. 

“Didn’t mean to cut it off, I just… I’m sorry”

“Don’t worry, Hirra!” said a calm voice. “He loses them all the time, he doesn't even feel pain. Dragonfly is just dramatic like that.” Lady Alexandria smiled and joined them. “He’ll probably grow a new one by next month.”

“My lady. I was wondering where you got off to.” Shadows said, smiling. His earlier anger about Hirra being allowed there was put aside. 

“I was securing the area, and giving the signal to the search team.” Alexandria answered, kneeling next to Mender, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m not badly hurt,” Mender replied, “and right now, I just feel tired.” 

Alexandria nodded, and was just about to say something when Hirra chimed in, “Bet you feel lucky though? That we were able to get here in time!” she smiled, seeming to have finally gotten over the wing incident.

Both Shadows and Mender answer together “Um… Actually, you weren’t here in time…”

“WHAT!?” was all that Hirra was able to say. After all that effort they had still been too late to… well Hirra wasn't really sure but it sounded like she and Lady Alexandria had missed something. 

Mender continued, telling both her and Lady Alexandria about Dragonfly and the E.G.G. and how the weapon got destroyed, and Shadows explained what Dragonfly had admitted about Andaka. Meanwhile Hirra just sat silently and held onto Shadows’ hand, while Lady Alexandria listened silently to every word; clearly there was more to learn of the situation than what time would allow. Finally, when they were coming to the end of it, there was a sudden sound from Lady Alexandria's work phone. 

After looking at it for a moment she turned to the group. “The area is about to be secured, Shadows if you can make it out of here on your own, then now is the best time to leave. The hero agency will deal with the rest of Dragonfly’s base.”

“So, you’re letting us go?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Yes,” she said smiling, “since Hirra was so kind and heroic in helping us free you, I think it would be wrong to arrest you both right now.”

“Oi! Don’t call me that!” Hirra yelled, but both Lady Alexandria and Shadows ignored her.

“Yeah, I got enough energy to get us home, thank you!” he said, smiling back at her. He slowly got back on his feet, and with support from Hirra, they began to walk into the shadows. 

"Wait!" Mender cried out. 

They stopped and Shadows turned with a look of concern on his face. "Is something wrong?" 

Mender bit her lip and then spoke, "No, just… Do you know which king loved fractions?" 

Shadows paused, confused, and then smiled. "No, I don't, which one?"

Mender giggled to herself and then replied, "Henry the eighth!"

Shadows burst into laughter that then turned into coughing and then turned to the shadows once more. As he walked into the shadows, he called "Good one, kid!" before disappearing with Hirra.

Lady Alexandria then gently picks up Mender who now was completely exhausted, up in a bridal carry. She was confused about the exchange that just happened, but would ask when Mender was less exhausted. 

“Hey, Alexandria, did you find the E.G.G.?” Mender asked

“I did not see it in the rubble but please leave that for now and rest. I’ll get you out of here and hand you over to the healers.”

“I wonder where the E.G.G. is now, it can’t have been destroyed?” Mender continued in a meek and sleepy tone.

“Mender, please, less wondering, more resting, okay? We will deal with everything when-” She stopped in her tracks, eyes locked in place.

“What is it?”

Alexandria stood still for some more time before she spoke again “Kim… I think I saw Kim beside the ruins of the weapon for a second, but when I looked back, they were gone…”

Mender, whose abilities seemed to make it easier to counter Kim’s, looked over to the spot Alexandria mentioned and began searching but… “I can’t see them…”

“Well, if it was them,” Lady Alexandria said “then we at least know who it was that sabotaged the weapon. And…”

“And? And what?”

 Lady Alexandria turned to look at Mender. “There is no way the E.G.G. is still here.” 

And at that, the echo of several heroes yelling Mender and Alexandria’s names began to fill the now abandoned base. Lady Alexandria called out to them.

Meanwhile, Kim tossed off their lab coat and easily snuck past the incoming heroes. The E.G.G. and some other objects were securely hidden away on them. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Part 3 : Epilogue

Master List : Character list

[purpledragonhome]

Fairy Accountant

A little story I wrote to pass the time one night.

I am the original author. I wrote this in September 2020. This is the first time posting it anywhere online. I hope those that read it enjoy it.

I was walking through the woods one morning without really paying attention to where I was going and I came across a small clearing. In this clearing sat a small winged person. The wings looked like the wings of a dragonfly only a little bit shorter and a little bit pointier. The person was so small she was the size of a doll. In fact I thought she was a doll when I first saw her. Until she moved. She didn’t see me at first so I just watched in silence. She wore a snug fitting light blue suit, comfortable looking flat shoes that perfectly matched her suit and had on a tiny pair of half frame spectacles. Her purple-red hair was pulled back into a pony tail and tied with a pink ribbon. She was writing something in a tiny book. When She paused and looked up that’s when she noticed me. I nodded to her, she nodded back, calmly put her things in a small briefcase I didn’t see before then started to fly away. She paused when she was almost out of the clearing, turned around and flew to me instead. I didn’t move the entire time she was flying. I only watched. When she was just out of reach she said “You didn’t sneak up on me and you didn’t chase after me. Why?” My reply was simple as I took a seat. “I don’t like being chased, so I assumed you wouldn’t either.” “And now you aren’t even trying to catch me. Instead you are talking to me, making no aggressive moves what so ever. In fact you are doing the opposite. You sat down.” She narrows her eyes. “This isn’t some kind of trick is it?” “Nope. It’s just more comfortable to talk to someone while sitting.” I take a quick glance around looking for something for her to sit on. I spot a small rock few feet away. “There is a rock you can sit or stand on right there. It’s out of my reach if that will make you more comfortable. Just so you can give your wings a rest.” She looks to where I’m pointing. “I don’t get you. You aren’t like other humans.” She slowly descends to the rock, lands so that she is standing on it. “No, I’m not like a lot of people, or humans, as you say. Most people don’t wonder in the woods without knowing where they are anymore. I’m not here to hurt anything, catch anything, or even pick the flowers. Just to think and to look at things as they should be. We introduce ourselves and start talking about our lives. As it turns out we are both accountants. She needed a vacation since she hasn’t had one in almost 200 years so her boss decided to give her a year off. Today is her first day. The company I worked for just went bankrupt so I’m out here thinking about where to go from here. We were talking for quite some time, the sun is setting; she’s sitting on my knee at this point, when we hear a musical melody coming from her briefcase. She reaches in and pulls out this tiny cell phone. “Hello? No. All the files I was working on have been sent to Shirella as requested. She confirmed she received them yesterday. Yes. Yes. His lordships file has been sent directly to you. Encrypted. Encryption key and file are on separate flash drives in your safe as directed. Yes. Yes. Yes. I will. See you in a year. Bye.” “Sorry. Work.” She says with a sigh. “I understand. I take it Shirella isn’t the best at what she does?” I empathise. A very derisive “Ha! You have No Idea! Air head comes to mind. The only reason she got the job in the first is, well, Nymph. Says it all!” I can’t help but chuckle at that. Her reply to the chuckle, “What’s so funny?” “We all know someone like that. Happens in the human world all too often.” We end up talking long into the night. Our lives aren’t all that different after all. Richard Clarke

[sybariticthrall]

An honest conversation.

CW : CNC, hints of sadism.

"I used to think I could be more."

It was uncharacteristic of me to speak out, especially now, especially in this moment with her senses so completely satisfied. Normally she drifted out the door on a soft cloud of bliss and I never dared interrupt that.

I think I was more surprised than she was. For a second I wondered who it was that spoke. After all, there were only the two of us in the room and it wasn't her.

Some part of me had bent, maybe broken. I didn't know, I didn't even know it which direction it had broken, giving in, or having enough. The words just bubbled out of me.

I heard her stop. I thought she was going to be angry. I felt an urge to preemptively apologize but before I could…

"And you don't, anymore?" She asked, softly, kindness competing with curiosity in her tone.

"I don't know," I answered, "I…"

She walked around to face me. She bent her knees as she sat down on the couch that sat across from me. It was always surreal to me, the way she sat down. It was as though she was a space ship landing, slow, controlled, her shoulders always perfectly level. She put her elbow on her knee and leaned forward, her fingers stroking her chin thoughtfully.

"What did you think you could be 'more' than?" She asked.

I thought for a moment, "This… I guess," I said gesturing as best I could at my circumstances given… well, my circumstances.

"And what would 'more' be?" She asked, "what roads would have led you to other than what you are now?"

"I'm not sure." I said, my mind searching backwards in time looking for a moment I could change, undo. When I found one I'd try to casting it forward into some future point where I was some different, preferable, me. Learning to play the guitar could lead to being a rockstar, staying in college leading to becoming a doctor, dropping out of high school leading to becoming a world traveler.

But in each of them I felt the pull of her. I found myself wondering what songs the rockstar version would write for her. I wondered how doctor me would come to be laying beside her on that cold fateful winter night. How would I, as world traveler me, world-travel to her? I needed to find a time, a moment, before wanting her, and that was finding a time before wanting.

Through all of that undoing and redoing of my life I expected her to grow impatient, it was minutes of silence. I kept glancing up expecting a scowl or scorn, but she was steadfast, patient, unhurried. She never glanced at her watch nor looked toward the door, not once.

Part of me wanted to say, "oh, never mind" but I knew that certainly would irritate her. She'd think, "you've got me here listening, don't waste my time."

Finally I said, "I think it is dumb to say. It sounds so stupid."

"No, it is not dumb. Nothing you are feeling is dumb. Nothing you think is stupid." She reassured, "Please, go on."

"I wondered," I said hesitantly, "if I could be other than who I am. Hell, maybe even other than what I am. A different person, or even. Could I have been be a mouse, or a lion, or… a phoenix."

She thought for a moment, and then started to speak but stopped herself. It was several moments before she found the words to express what she had instantly wanted to say.

"No," she said flatly, "you could not have been anything but who, what you are."

"I don't just mean here… this," I tried to gesture again but the motion hurt.

"I understand, but… There was no you before you. There will be no you after you. There was nothing to become something different, until you were, you."

I felt so conspicuous, like I was a college freshman smoking pot in a dorm room talking about being a mosquito or that there was a universe in my fingertip, and yet. And yet, she was treating it with respect, or at least compassion.

She continued, "It's like looking at a glass of wine spilling across a table and thinking, 'could that spill could have been a dragonfly or an iceberg.' Nonsense, it was a spill from the moment it was anything, and after you've mopped it up, placed the glass shards in the bin and tossed it out, the spill is no more, it will never be anything again. You could have made different choices, but you'd still be you."

"So you think I could never have been anything but this?"

She smiled, a warm smile, a smile I'd seen a dozen times with her friends comforting them in times of crisis, "could you have done other things than this, different things? You are strong, you are capable, you are smart, you are clever. You could do anything, but we aren't what we could do, we aren't even what do, we are what we desire. It is your desire that makes you this."

I thought for a long time, "But you shape my desires, you direct them…"

"Of course I do! As you do mine! As does anyone who cares about their relationships, whatever form they take. And besides, why should I grow a plant in my garden to want other than me?" She made a gesture like a shrug, "But yes,", she continued, "I put you in the sun, I place you in the shade, I feed you and I starve you. And when necessary I prune you. Am I more deliberate, more methodical, more devious, than most? Perhaps, but I am no different."

I was quiet.

She sighed. "I know you hate this."

"I…", I wanted to protest, not because she was wrong but because I wanted to assure her.

She shook her head, "I KNOW you hate this", she leaned forward and ran her hand along my back. I winced at the touch but I pressed into it all the same. "It is why I desire you. It is why I cultivate your wants, to grow them so that they just barely outpace your suffering. My personal Sisyphus on an endless hill."

I looked at her. She pressed her hand into my back, digging her nails into it, it seared, her fingertips were fire.

"I will not, I will never be someone's briar patch," she said contemptuously, "if you didn't hate this, dread it, if it didn't truly sting…" Well, she shrugged.

I looked down, my thighs finally gave out and my arms took the fullness of my weight. Whatever part of me had broken, had infact shattered.

I heard her voice, "You know if you ever want out, I won't stop you. It might take a few days, a week or so to make the arrangements. But you know if you ever find yourself wanting something else… more than just needing to 'want' something else… I won't stop you."

"No," I said my voice a rasp.

She reached her hand out to my face, caressing it tenderly. Her thumb pulling down across my lip, some drool transferred to her finger. I pressed my head into her hand like a cat.

"The girls are coming tonight." She reminded, continuing to stroke my face kindly, "They will be expecting you in your full regalia."

I nodded.

"Do you want me to cancel? I can tell them not to come tonight. Today was a hard… step, for you."

"No," I heard myself say.

"Some of them can be crueler than I," she cautioned.

I shook my head. I flexed my chest and arms pulling myself up to gain a little more air, "no." The idea of her cancelling was too dreadful for me to imagine.

"Stephanie… Steph has asked to end her night with some private time with you. She'll be delighted with my work on your… backside."

I nodded vacantly. Speaking had gotten difficult but I managed a perfunctory, "ok."

She rose in the same spaceship like fashion that she sat down continuing to caress the side of my face. And with the caresses she held my gaze upward and looked gently down into it.

She lingered a moment watching me, watching my eyes for recognition, acceptance. Giving me all the time in the world to lodge protest, to change my mind.

At last she said, "I am going to go have my glass of wine and reflect on the moment we've had here. Then I am going to go clean myself up. I'll fetch you in an hour or so and you can start preparing for their arrival."

She walked past me, letting her finger tips drag faintly across me on her way.

I watched the light on the opposite wall disappear in an arc as she closed door behind her. But just as it was about to disappear completely it stopped.

"You know," she said her voice almost omnipresent, "I'm happy that you need me." And then she was gone, the door still cracked open, a faint ray of light glittered across the wall. I was grateful for the light.

[fagsex]

tell me about the women you invented 🎤

I FORHOT ABOUT THIS HALP!! hold on i only have old sometimes semi inaccurate refs bc all my good ones were lost in the fire (read when my phone was stolen) (more under cut, these r the only ones i have pics of atm but theres more women) (i swear) (also asid only cuz im in asid Mood) so

here is my sweetest princess in all the land Abi(ah) Nimr ! shes the main character one could say of And Simon Is Dead, a curious new adult trying to discover who she is with the people shes been told are who friends after suffering amnesia ! she can control liquids, aka not limited to water, and can act as a dowsing rod as well to find it :] shes rather soft spoken and probably the most mild mannered out of the main four, but she wont take shit and she especially wont let anyone give it to ppl she cares about! her bday is nov 1st, shes bi, her favorite color is black, her favorite food is chicken samosas by someone that she just cant remember, and shes been sadako from ringu for 6 non consecutive halloweens

riz ahmed-doyle ! not quite a woman but moreso than not, they're an orphaned fairy kid who can barely remember their father, especially post amnesiac incident, and occasionally spores sprojt from their head but like it's no biggie. head of three athletic clubs at their old school, and an active member of even more, they dont really see it necessary to wear anything but loose tanks and above the knee shorts. standing over 6 feet tall when not leaning into their friends (which is frequent), riz is very touchy and bonds with others like nothing else, their loud and carefree spirit attracting people like bugs to a light, even with dragonfly wings jetting out from their back. their bday is may 1st, their favorite sport is soccer, they want to take up cooking soon, and theyre so durable itd put a tardigrade to shame

eileen doyle, selkie extraordinaire who ran away from home at a very young age, leaving her seal skin in the only hands she could trust, that of her then baby brother. the pair reunited in her new home when he was old enough to figure out how to lie his way on a plane, and the two are inseperable. while working in HQ, she met young riz ahmed and when the kid got attached to her after losing their father, she took them in 'temporarily' until they found a more permanent family, which has lasted the past oh decade or so. being terrekinetic, one of her favorite hobbies is rolling dirt up like snowballs and launching them into peoples faces from a distance and holding back her laughter when they get worms in their mouth. her bday is march 17th, she has since sewn her cloak into a badass cardigan for her little brother, she enjoys making horrible food, and wont turn her nose up a nice drink while you're at it

kira(bo) nimr, older cousin of abi and longtime sufferer of her family's actions, from minor to murderous. originally a very powerful mageic user, she accidentally was drained of nearly all of it in order to save her brothers life, before being separated from him for a decade and left on her own in the pacific northwest. she found herself and her way home of the spanse of many years, rising the ranks in the HQ despite her lack of abilities besides a Nya here and there. a very competent office and at times field worker, she still finds her stomach in knots around kind women and doesnt know if she can even forgive her mother. her bday is dec 1st, her defining verb is headstrong, shes been taking adult karate lessons at the age of 24, and had an extensive avril lavigne phase to where she relearned french (pictured)

picture is rather out of date but one of my longest time ocs, morimoto natsuko is her name, 'california girls, we're diabolical' is her game. people often think the mouth coming from the back of her head is likely her closest friend, but her and helena have certainly seen better days. where she prefers american football, her long tongued symbiote likes a young brad pitt, despite only sharing ears, thoughts, and a stomach with her ever patient host. natsuko is known campus wide for winning a hotdog eating contest against the bottomless pit that is helena, and once had an all night rager with riz's basketball team that ended up with everybody in a dungeon on campus that was sealed by concrete in '72 with no cell signal. her bday is, as she says, 'blowin in the wind', her hobbies include making her best friend beau feel small, she can be technicality sing all of american pie in one breath, and she tells everyone who will listen every year for a decade shes never seen snow (liar)

less heroically inclined than some of our other friends here, maria would like to eat you for brunch and whine how hungry she still is. she has split custody with her boy best friends hellcat, her highschool superlative was hellcat, and she was valedictorian with a solid 2.3 gpa. her wings are too small to allow flight, but that wont stop her from trying and beating your ass with them on (mostly) accident after you buy her a couple drinks at the bar before she goes home to her girlfriend. her bday is whenever she thinks is funniest and will be most inconvient for you, she owns her own horn decoration business, her own bus centered uber style rideshare company, and your wallet.

more tatted than your dad and probably smells more, amiriah takes the stage! not quite a siren, not quite a demon, shes all cold blooded hatred and salt water. she secretly has a soft spot for feline creatures, and literally melts when they run from her due to, yknow, the whole, being water thing. marias girlfriend she runs home to after escapades, that shes tried to become a giant beer spirit for more than once (never successful). her bday is none of your business, earhaver, she enjoys nothing except jailtime (we have to assume), her girlfriends boy best friends cat, and poking at her own organs like slim goodbody.

[lott-the-otter]

The Taste of the Devil

pairing: Benimaru Shinmon x reader

premise: After multiple encounters with the man, after too many bickerings, you decide to settle the tension between you.

words: 7,315

notes and warnings: It's filth with spoons of sins, please minors dni.

*slap fic* this bad boy can hold so many kinks : kinda chocking, I'm sorry but I can't imagine Beni not being a mocking and mean dom, fighting for dominance, dom/sub relationship, kinda roleplay, rough sex, kinda oral, use of abilities, kind of bondage, kinda sassy reader (I tried), mocking Beni (but not degrading Beni), spanking, overstimulation and probably other stuffs but I can't remember. (Please ignore the grammatical errors)

My demons plays too well with @gojoho's demon - an incredible writer who writes awesome jjk smuts, you should check her out - , the outcome created this monstrosity. This author nothing and everything.

There might be sequels or at least headcanons to that.

You had a problem.

The dying sun melted into the horizon, streams of warm sunlight painting a healthy glow on Benimaru’s skin. The sun wheel dancing in his back would soon become the only source of light around you. From the patio outlooking the small garden of the fire brigade building, you spied beads of sweat running down his temples before disappearing beneath his kimono upper garment. He wasn’t wearing his white shirt underneath.

You licked your lips almost mindlessly, feasting on the sight of his collarbones and the top of his chest.

You have been, admittedly, ignoring the cause of the problem for far too long. And now, the problem that was, at first, easy to ignore festered within you and became an even bigger problem.

A light breeze ruffled through the mini bamboo forest. The song of the wind chime meshed with the rhythmic tic-tac of the Shishi Odoshi fountain and the crackling of his fire to create the dangerous aria of freedom that thrummed within every citizen’s heart.

Movements in your periphery caught your eyes, diverting you from the sinful thoughts plaguing your mind. A dragonfly landed on a half-closed lily pad and took off again before a frog preying in the pond could catch it.

Most insects, because they knew what was good for them, stood clear of Benimaru’s flames. But there were some, much like you, that would throw caution to the wind to be kissed by his fire.

You yearned for Benimaru Shinmon.

The realization had made you scoff at first. You, the vice-captain of the 6th company, entertained the fantasy of dominating the mightiest fire soldier of the Empire. Of having him on his knees between your legs, slanted down eyes watching from below with a hint of adoration, helplessness and hunger.

He who stood above everyone would bow to you.

Sometimes, the intensity of your yearning unsettled you, a desire far darker than you were accustomed to. It’s not like you were particularly dominant by nature. You liked being on top, being the one in control, the one who granted pleasure and could take it back just as fast. But you liked being dominated just as much. To have someone manhandled into submission, to chase your release only to get it ripped from your grasp, to have your body singing with both pleasure and frustration to reach a greater orgasm.

Your eyes were irresistibly drawn back to his form, to the flawlessness of his posture that he held for almost an hour now. He exhaled through his mouth. You reported your attention to his lips, to the heaviness of his bottom lip, full and perfect to bite. His upper lip was on the thinner side but you've kissed worst mouths before. You wouldn't complain.

Truthfully, after psychoanalyzing yourself during one of those nights, you realized that your desire to dominate him likely came from your first few meetings.

His nonchalance to authority and every citizen of the Empire had rubbed your pride the wrong way, creating the sparks to ignite your temper. It got worse after he rudely commented on the tephrosis’s medication system you helped install. At that moment, you would have given anything to wring his strong neck-

“You’re still here.” Benimaru’s voice, as emotionless as ever, had the undertone of a sigh. He shifted, readjusting his posture after the annoying scratching of your nails on wood created a momentary lapse of concentration.

-but it got better, you guessed.

Your lips curled up, the sweetness of your mocking laughter grating his ears, as you laid back on your side, watching Benimaru Shinmon over the knuckles of your fist. “Ignore me as much as you want but it’s not gonna make me leave.”

Eyes still closed, he refused to acknowledge your presence, curling his fingers slightly more. His back turned blazing as he put more power into his meditation. “You’re a pain.”

“Not my problem.” You shifted, making yourself more comfortable. You grabbed your cup of tea, quietly savoring the bitter taste of green tea.

From the way his lips thinned to the overly tensed muscles in his shoulders, you were getting to him. It was only a matter of time before he would look at you.

“Not mine either. Go back to your company.”

“Make me, Benimaru Shinmon~”

He clicked his tongue, furrowing his brows and turned his head to give a piece of his mind. He paused once he saw you, your outfit and your damn big smirk.

The garden darkened as the flames in his back died down. He settled for a glare, running a hand down his hair and watching the two fire threads coming from your fingers connect with the lanterns near you. With a snap of your fingers, you lighted them up. “What the hell are you wearing? There isn’t any festival today.”

What you were wearing was a pretty damn expensive outfit.

The black hakama wrapped around your belly was made of silk and embroidered with pink flowers at the bottom while your haori was hand-stitched by an Asakusa citizen. White with silver patterns of koi fishes and some green and pale pink lotuses, you couldn’t deny that it was your favorite part of the outfit.

To complete the look, your hair was gathered in a bun tightly held in place by hairpins crowning it like a sun. Almost as if you were the enlightened one.

You looked good and he thought so too. His eyes roamed over your figure a few seconds longer than in your everyday clothes. You knew Benimaru liked to see you in traditional clothing - he commented on it once - just as much as you disliked wearing it, which was pretty telling. The garb was too cumbersome.

“In Asakusa, it’s not.” You watched as he approached, planting himself right in front of you. “It’s Sol’s day.”

His scoff made you chuckle. You weren’t fond of that religion either. Though, you reckoned, it had more to do with the restrictions it imposed over Company 6 than whatever deep-rooted disgust the man had for it.

He grumbled something about ‘celebrating an oppressing god’ and ‘stupid religion’ but you ignored him, handing him a cup of tea. “Tea? I kept it warm for you.”

He stared at it, at you, then back at the cup before crossing his arms.

Brat. You squinted. He sighed.

“I don’t like tea.” He said, like a liar. Still, he took it from you, sitting next to your feet.

“Always drink after exerting yourself.” You nagged, the remark coming easily out of your mouth after repeating it hundreds of times to your little trainees.

He frowned, hiding a hand inside his kimono, but sipped on it. You weren’t a member of Company 6 for nothing, you knew what you were talking about. The strain Ignition abilities put on the body wasn’t something to laugh at and Benimaru knew it. Why he still chose to ignore most advice was beyond you.

Together, you gazed at the horizon, at the constellations igniting the midnight sky as if choreographed upon the celestial stage, at the clouds passing by and the pretty pond that mirrored it.

Asakusa was the best spot to stargaze.

The silence between you was comfortable but you couldn’t hide that it was starting to grate your nerves. Still, you waited for his move as you stared at him, wordlessly pressing him to ask the question he was itching to ask and you to answer. Dancing to his tempo was as tiring as it was hard. Benimaru liked a slow burn but he would get impatient, caught in the fragile web you were tirelessly working on to capture him.

“What do you want?”

You licked your lips, raising up to sit. Finally, you inwardly sighed, you would get to the main course. “You’re as tough as you’re dense, aren’t you? I’m here for you.”

He sipped on the tea a bit more, mulling on your words before exhaling, putting his elbows on his knees. “I had a feeling it was about that. I don’t have time for a relationship.”

Always straight to the point. Blunt to the point of rudeness.

You blinked, smiling wryly to yourself. It wasn’t what you were asking for. “I don’t either. I want to resolve the tension between us.”

Benimaru Shinmon, as cute as he could be once drunk, was a menace to both your blood pressure and your sanity. Taking him as a lover required an investment you didn’t have time to give.

Though, if he was a good lay, you wouldn’t mind going back to him for another night rendez-vous.

“You want to fuck me.”

He was staring you down, tone as bored and gruff as ever, but there was something else in his eyes, something that sparked your interest. He was intrigued, almost surprised.

You pinched your lips and checked that your hairstyle hadn’t loosened. “Crudely said-” Once sure everything was in place, you leaned against Benimaru’s side and pushed your chest out so one breast was brushing against his arm. You rose to whisper in his ear. “-but yes, if you want me to.”

Your hand ghosted over his hair, dancing over his shoulder. He was still processing your words. So, you took the time to carefully lower your hand toward the fair expanse of skin his kimono was showing, freezing and almost recoiling when he answered you.

“What’s in it for me?” He pierced you with a side-eyed glance before tilting his head while stroking his chin.

You tilted back in your surprise, catching yourself with a hand before you watched him dumbfounded. The warmth you were feeling was nothing short of scorching. It was a fierce flame of embarrassment that ignited your guts, pumped your heart and colored your cheeks.

“I- What?” You scoffed. Did he just… ? Rude much, isn’t he? “You know you could have said no, you dumb idio-”

With a swift movement, he grabbed your wrist and pulled. You jerked forward and, unable to stop your momentum, you crashed in his chest, half-sprawled on his legs. His arms then wrapped around your hips and your back to keep you in place.

“Is that why you are so insufferable lately?” His voice deepened as he spoke in your ear, mocking you while embracing you like a lover. “Annoying me on purpose, showing off more skin than you need to. Because you want to get laid? Because you crave my dick?”

Your mouth fell open, at loss for word after the whiplash he gave you but you couldn’t deny it was turning you on.

“I don’t-” Your attempt to defend yourself was thwarted by the sting of his hand meeting your rear. He spanked you.

He spanked you.

You gasped, a moan dying in your throat. Your body felt hot, both with want and embarrassment, as your panties stuck to your folds like a second skin. His mouth found the shell of your ear and licked it. “Keep spewing lies with that mouth and I will keep it occupied.”

His sentence ended in a growl that did wonders to your body. You were unaware Benimaru could make that kind of noise. And now, you wanted to know what other sounds he could make.

“I’m pretty sure spanking requires the consent of both parties.”

He cocked his brows, disbelief coloring his pretty eyes. His arms flexed, accommodating you better in his embrace and you could feel the way his muscles worked, sliding around your body even through the layers you were wearing. “Uh? You don’t?”

“I didn’t say that.” You answered so fast it surprised you and with just enough worry to make his lips wobbled.

You took in a calming breath, keeping your heart under control. It had the unfortunate quirk of growing bolder and wilder in the presence of Benimaru, sending too much blood into your cheeks and making you act like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

“Good.” With his hand buried in your hair, he angled your face and dived in the sea of trouble you were. First, slow and uncertain, discovering how much you could handle. With his lips, he absorbed the heaviness of your soul and the beauty of you and your world, replacing it with the fierceness of his passion.

As much as you played with it, you never knew kissing fire felt so good. It was overpowering, tingling tongue and the aftertaste of fire smoke, scorching heat running within your veins and strong hands helping you straddle his legs.

His hand ran up your spine, grabbing your shoulder to bring you impossibly close. His nails dug in your skin.

Unlike him, a tower of strength, unmovable and unyielding, you were a more restless lover. Touching him with the delicacy of an angel but the taste of the devil, you were far more intoxicating than he expected. Your hands had a mind of their own. Something you were thankful for as your head was spinning under his attack, heart thundering a heavy staccato while exploring and tugging at him, his hair and his clothes. His remained curled around your shoulder and hair.

One moment, your hands were buried in his hair, appreciating the soft but wiry strands while your nails scratched his scalp, tugging on it until you swallowed his surprised moan and the next you were shamelessly groping him, his biceps, his back, feeling the way his muscles moved to accommodate your weight.

You exhaled, biting on his lower lip as you broke the kiss. You breathed the same air, foreheads touching while half-lidded eyes gazed within the other’s soul. With a small mischievous smile curling your reddening lips, you tugged on his hair once more to hear again the delicious sound.

His throaty noise slipped into your skin to reverberate again and again on your nerves, sending jolts of electricity straight to your navel to turn up the intensity of your desire.

“You do like it rough too.” There was laughter behind your words, a mocking tone that the man didn’t like.

He pushed you off him. You collapsed on your back, eyes wide and mouth opened before bursting into a shoulders-shaking, tears-brimming, belly laughter at his childish face. In your giggles, you missed the softening of his expression as he waited for your laugh to end.

He cupped your warm cheeks, drying your tears. Warmth bloomed in your chest. Not the blistering heat of desire but the soothingly sweet burn of affection. It was the kind of warmth that told you that while you weren’t in love with Benimaru, you could be. You could see yourself fall in love with the man and all the troubles he would bring you.

“You look like a maiden,” he laughed at his remark. You were glad he found himself to be funny. You didn’t, “the opposite of what you are.”

You bit the hand cradling your cheek, taking his thumb in your mouth. You sucked on it, tongue swirling around his callus and enjoying the half-lidded stare gazing at you over the beginning of a blush and opened lips. He enjoyed your ministration so much he presented his index and middle finger.

You took them in, letting him pet your tongue before he ventured farther than you were used to. “Vixen.”

You gagged, breathed deeply before gently sucking, giving Benimaru your most innocent, teary eyes.

He sighed, a pool of dark swirling in his eyes as he smirked. Above you, with his kimono loose, a dark look on his face, and with the lantern shining behind his head, a crooked halo, he looked like the most dangerous being. A fallen god.

His fingers slipped out of your mouth. Your lips curled up.

“Silly, it’s because it’s tailored to be a priestess garb.” The mocking was still present in your tone and he wished to kiss your breath away. “For tonight only, I can be your high priestess and you can be my… Sol?”

You observed his face, the way his mouth curled oh so slightly down and his eyebrows shook. He didn’t like that. You raised both legs to caress his thighs before locking your ankles behind his knees. You slowly sat up until your breaths mingled, until your noses touched, lips hovering over his, until you could see the faint glow of his eyes. You smiled as his breath ever so slightly hitched and his gaze hooded. “No. My god of destruction.”

His eyes creased. The vixen knew how to stroke his ego.

“Then, I will conquer you like one.” He said as he grabbed both ankles, shoving them up. You yelped. The sudden force had your balance thrown off and you rolled on your back. He locked you down there, hovering with a warm hand wrapped around your sternum.

Benimaru shifted, slightly pressing down on your stomach to settle close between your spread legs. His other hand nestled in your hair, removing your hairpins with an ease that bespoke of the twins’ influence.

Your eyes closed as he slowly combed it free of knots before coiling strands into tight ringlets around his fingers. Yanking on them, he inclined your face so you could see the swirl of darkness within his eyes. He dived for an open-mouthed kiss. You were strangely pliant to his whims, half-lidded eyes and that damn smirk he wanted to bruise. With his lips or his fists, it didn’t matter, as long as they were coated in red.

His tongue invaded your mouth, roaming over every nook and cranny like a conqueror in the promised land. You had half a mind to bite on it, to take back the control he appropriated himself, to act on your fantasies. But you waited, listening to the dark part of your mind whispering to let him learn your body, delving in the pleasure of ruling over you before snatching it back.

Benimaru pressed kisses to the expanse of your neck, trailed his mouth down to your collarbones and sucked a bruise into the skin at the base of your throat- and when you reacted to him, when you inhaled sharply and choke on his name, he hummed his pleasure against your skin, the sound vibrating and low. Like a maestro, he had you singing under his relentless attack.

The wet smack of his mouth roaming your neck, gliding lower towards your chest only made you squirm beneath him. He growled under his breath, tugging on your belt to loosen your hakama before his rough hand slipped under your upper garment and he relished in the sight of your breasts. The work of his lips in tandem with his hand left a searing trail of heat in its wake. He would linger on places otherwise hidden from view and suck on your skin; branding you as a tainted war conquest. As his victim.

His rough hand scratched deliciously your skin, raising goosebumps while it made its way to your breast, first, simply grabbing and letting his warmth sweep within your body, appreciating the weight as his teeth bit into the skin just above your heart. You purred for him, grabbing the back of his neck to leave the scorching trail of your nails on his shoulders.

An eye for an eye. A mark for a mark.

He caught your nipple, caressing it then rolling it between his fingers to pinch it. You yelped, almost hitting him. You settled for crossing your ankles behind his hips and bringing him closer until his warmth sweeped in you, until your chests were pressed flushed, until your cunt could rock against his cock.

He growled and tutted his dissatisfaction at being interrupted in his work, biting your collarbone before awkwardly bending you backward so he could still play with your chest. You tried to rebel against him but his hand pressing your shoulders against the ground was far stronger than your abs.

You huffed and puffed and whined at the frustration of being denied, tugging on his hair to express your displeasure but it only brought more pinching and biting. You didn’t miss his sinister smile moving against your skin-

“Conquered can only beg for mercy.” He rasped out.

Your mouth fell open.

The audacity.

Did he think you were conquered? Did he think he broke you, that he was so good and strong and you could only yield to him? Did he think that the burning in your groin would make you forget yourself?

Mightiest fire soldier or not, you weren’t one to go down without a fight.

In your current state, you wouldn’t be able to overpower him. Too strong and too aroused to think, you could, however, make him yield first.

Your hand went to his kimono, ripping the belt off first and trailing your nails along his abs before pinching his nipple like he did to you. He growled his displeasure, grabbing your hand to pin it above your head while you let a victorious ‘ah’ out. The meaning, a strong ‘See how it’s not fun?’, wasn’t lost to him.

When your other hand picked up where you left, he changed his tactic, going for the throat and you found yourself seeing stars under the pressure. White spots danced in your vision before he released his grip, popping your abused nipple in his mouth.

His touches were abrasive but you lived for the hell he was throwing you into.

You felt a tug on your belt, the drag of hot fingers on an equally hot body going down and down and down until they passed your hips bones, until they caressed the top of your panties, toying with the hem before continuing to cup your aching sex.

You inhaled sharply, appreciating the way he rubbed you through the clothes. You followed the movement, shaking your hips wantonly and in a burst of passion, you kissed him, teeth clashing and sloppy, tongue caressing and noses squashed. You kissed him with more tongue and teeth than lips, overcomed by a passion borderline destructive that sank into your marrow and seeped into your every cell.

You tried to reciprocate the gesture, yanking on his own belt but he slapped your hand away. You snarled. He growled. You whined. You settled for rubbing him through the fabric. He sent you a glare but didn’t stop you, even pressing into your hand, rocking his hips for greater pleasure.

His fingers pushed against your slit and you curled your toes, grabbing the hand wrapped around your throat to ground yourself. You moaned, shaking in his hold. Truthfully, you were barely holding on to your ribbon of sanity, especially when he was working so well to snap it.

Benimaru, still inside your pants, grabbed your pretty expensive panties, peeling them away from your fold to-

Your eyes went as big as saucers. A wave of indignation and, unfortunately, arousal rose within you. You froze, still unable to understand that Benimaru Shinmon, Captain of the 7th Company, burned your underwear inside your pants.

You opened your mouth and closed it, plenty of words on your tongue but none got out. You stared at the man in utter indignation.

He laughed, dark and deep, right next to your ear. “You’re so drenched I almost couldn’t light them on fire.”

“You bastard- Oh fuck!” You choked on your words, covering your mouth to swallow the obscenities from the aching pleasure the two digits he pushed deep within procured you. Your legs shook, closing around his hand to keep them inside while you rubbed his dick through his pants with a bit more fervor.

He had magic fingers, teasing the embers of your desire until it turned into a blazing inferno threatening to consume your sanity entirely. In a desperate attempt to ground yourself, you latched yourself to his lips, drinking in him like he was your oxygen.

Under the night sky, you burned brighter than any star and your face, the hint of defiance in your eyes and your feeble attempts at pleasuring him wrested a grunt from his chest. His patience was thinning by the second. His movements, the slaps of his palm on your clit, the stretching of your walls and the stinging of his bites, spoke of his desperation to take you.

And when his patience finally snapped and when he separated from you to take in a long breath and when he threw his happi away, taking his belt of and finally revealing his erection to you-

You smiled, coy and oh so sinister.

You had half a mind to let him take you, to extinguish that fire in your womb but the part of you that waited with bated breath for a mistake wouldn't let you.

You watched as he sat on his heels, fumbling around with your pants and when he finally revealed your soaked cunt, the burned panties still around your hips and when he reached for your thighs, to grasp them and open them-

You acted.

Two fire threads caught his wrists, pushing him back to the wooden beam.

“Wha- ?” He watched his wrists and the glowing red ribbons tightly bond to them before sending you a glare. His first reaction was to disperse the fire but your threads weren’t something he could dispel nor break through sheer strength. Above a certain temperature, they could be burned, though. “What is this?”

Payback~ You took your time, raising on your elbows, shaking off your haori - which fell off the patio - and watched the sight Benimaru was offering you.

He stared at you, and he really looked good - lips swollen and red, hair disheveled and down, and face lightened by the ethereal glow of the moon and the warmth of the lanterns. His eyes glowed with the restlessness of a caged beast.

Benimaru was all slender and muscular, and you were drinking in this sight like a woman lost in the desert. His cock, angry and red and pearling with precum, stood erected against his abs, just above the hair that started under his navel and led to his crown.

On your four, you drew closer to him, watching the storm brewing in his eyes. It procured you such pleasure and pride, such craving. You wished to be filled as soon as possible and, your eyes lingered on his cock, that was why you wouldn’t lose much time sucking such a handsome part of him.

“Oi, I asked something.”

You ignored him, licking your lips. Your hands glided over his thighs and you dove for a taste.

He didn’t taste divine like people would say when talking about their partner, neither sweet nor salty. You couldn’t really define the taste but you didn’t hate it. The same could be said about his scent.

His scent was characteristic to him, strong enough that you would be able to identify his clothes in a pile. Neither pleasant nor unpleasant, a light scent of ashes would linger in your nose.

It smelled and tasted like Benimaru.

Benimaru watched your back arching, the curve of your spine leading to your fancy little butt. One he wanted to grab and squeeze and watched as it wobbled with every snap of his hips. One he wouldn’t mind turning red and blue. One he would even bite.

He watched, enjoyed the sight and groaned pitifully, tugging on his restraints. Truthfully, if he wasn’t already so out of his mind with want and if a part of him wasn’t willing to indulge you, he would have burned the things off to have his way with that sweet cunt of yours. But right now, he couldn’t be trusted with not burning the whole brigade to pounce on you.

Your tongue swirled around his head, adding spit to precum, and Benimaru groaned a wretched sound. You sucked just a bit, moving away as the captain thrusted up. You licked your way back up, his belly button, his abs, between his pecs and on his jugular. At last, you kissed his chin and answered: “Isn’t it a priest’s duty to serve her god?”

You placed yourself above him. Having him between your legs sure looked like a challenge. But you weren’t going to let it phase you.

“Is it your way of telling me you’re in charge?” He said and somehow, he managed to rearrange his features into his usual, unbothered self.

His breathing hitched as you rubbed yourself against his head, adding your slick to the sticky mess his cock has become. You arched your back, throwing your head back and moaning as his cock nudged your clit, shaking your hips to reproduce that sensation. Benimaru used your bliss to nip at your throat. Drawing out both your and his patience, you teased his tip with your cunt again and again until you really couldn’t wait anymore.

“Would you like to object?” You panted, guiding his shaft to your entrance.

You slid slightly down, enough to open yourself on him and tease without bringing that fullness you were craving. Building the anticipation led to a better orgasm and you intended to make your only shot at fucking Benimaru magical.

He squinted his eyes, full of annoyance and arousal. You could see his thoughts swirling, no doubt plotting to overthrow your rule but you would meet him head-on.

“Don’t falter.” He growled with the undertone of a threat. Shivers ran down your spine. His eyes were telling a different story that you could resume to: don’t leave him an opening or he would ravage you. “And do all the work.”

You leaned down to kiss him, soft and sweet at first but as you eased yourself down, gently, slowly, your teeth clashed and your tongues danced. You lost yourself in him, in his scent, in his taste and in the feeling of being so full and stretched. You didn’t even take all of him in, already feeling too full.

Benimaru gasped. The sound was quiet like wrenched from him against his will as his eyes fluttered shut and jaw went slack. He savored the feeling, the warmth, the wetness, and the tightness. You were fucking perfect for him, a tight fit he wouldn’t admit out loud.

Your eyes flickered over him, enticingly bare beneath you- his chest was muscular and his shoulders were broad and sturdy and his eyes when you finally met his gaze were hot and piercing.

And then you grinded down and Benimaru thrusted his hips up just a little, like he couldn’t help himself, and you answered with a shallow moan because the angle was good and the friction was good and you felt like you were getting lost in it.

Your hips rose and fell in a graceful motion like a rolling wave, slick and sliding. You wallowed in the stretch, in the tender feeling of his cock buried deep within you, with fluttering lashes and slacked jaw.

He huffed out a strangled moan after just a few thrusts and you pushed your chest in his face, arching your back due to the searing pleasure electrocuting your brain. He quickly found a better use of his mouth along your chest, devouring the soft flesh with motive.

When after a few other thrusts, you failed to take him entirely, he let go of your nipple with a wet pop. “You’re missing a bit.”

Your head fell on his shoulders, gripping and raking them hard as you panted. You watched pearls of sweat running down his abs to his pelvis, directing your gaze slightly below to the lewd sight the jointure of your bodies offered you. The crown of pubic hair was glistening with sweat, slick and saliva. The lewd noise fleeting from the both of you invaded the thin silence. Skin against skin, voice lost in lust.

"I know you can take all of me, pretty."

You shivered and furrowed your brows in concentration. Thinking and speaking was turning out to be harder than you expected. “I- I need a bit of time for tha-”

Your sentence ended in a choke, head throwing back as his tip brushed against that spot. Benimaru watched your eyebrows curve and your mouth fall open in adoration. He observed the petulance growing in your eyes while you failed to reproduce the movement. Then, his eyes went to your fire threads, to their ever dimming light and he knew you would break soon.

Your rule would soon come to an end. A sort of groan, the whisper of your name in your ear that sent shivers down your spine.

It was fascinating, the sound you both made once all pretenses of being anything but sinners were thrown away, equal parts thrilling and terrifying and utterly shameless. You cried out, not caring about your voice and who would hear you. His mouth ascended on yours, silencing you.

Your thighs were burning. Your breathing was erratic. The sweet ache of your release was building, promising toes-curling pleasure but alas you were unable to tip over. The gates of heaven, so close and yet you could barely brush them.

You whined and huffed and-

Two warm hands caught each of your wrists, pulling them above your head while his cock slipped out of you. You spluttered when the realization that you lost your concentration hit you like a matoï on fire. Your threads dissipated. You’ve released the beast.

His smile was mean and promised nothing good for your pride would come out of your mistake.

He, then, grabbed both wrists into one hand, placing the other on your hips.

“Slowing down already?” His grip on your hips was as painful as his voice was strained. His nails threatened to break your skin. You knew it was going to leave marks. “But you wanted that control. Can’t handle it?”

He spanked you, hard, and silenced your cries with his mouth, biting and devouring your mouth until you were lightheaded. And it continued again and again until he was satisfied with the face you were making, throwing a look down to appreciate the color of your ass. Red like his eyes.

Then, Benimaru straightened his position up and with you still balanced on his lap, the sudden change had you tilting backward with wide eyes. You opened your mouth to gasp and the Captain followed your movement.

He had the delicacy to cup your head to stop yourself from cracking it on the wooden floor. He boxed you in perfectly, separating you from the world until he became your everything, until all you could see, think and breathe was him, his glowing eyes and his smirk.

“Control doesn’t suit everyone.” He whispered against your lips, a very faint laugh fanning your lips.

His iron-clad grip reached for your hips, pulling them back up to his hips and throwing your knees to your chest. You gasped and babbled for him to not do what his eyes clearly told you he was going to do. “Wait, Beni. I can’t- ”

He sheathed him in one sharp thrust, going down to the hilt. You felt impossibly full and stretched. The base of his cock, thicker than the length, had your head spinning, eyes rolling back in their orbits with both pleasure and pain.

That man was taking the saying ‘rearrange my guts’ too literally but you weren’t complaining. You couldn’t, you were too preoccupied breathing and babbling nonsense.

Benimaru smiled, and if you weren’t so lost in the sauce, you would have realized that he smiled so much more once balls deep inside you. As if you were his own brand of sake. Exhilarating. Intoxicating.

“See?” His voice had a sweet rumble that spread through your veins, “No need to whine. I told you you could take all of me.”

You purred something for the sake of answering.

With that said, his hands steadied your hips, roughly pulling down onto a sharp thrust. He did it again, and again, pounding in your abused hole with a feral pace, and the harsh sting between each thrust was going to hurt even more tomorrow. But it didn’t matter, you already knew you would be more red and blue than your natural color. What was a bruise or two in the grand scheme of things if you could reach orgasm?

Benimaru was close to his own bliss and nothing was in his way of reaching it.

The friction of his pubic hair on your clit, his pace and the angle of his thrusts, it was all too much. Your steady release grew back in your lower stomach, feverishly pulsating in a way no other man had ever done to you. Nothing could describe the pleasure that wrangled your body other than twisted euphoria. The increasing aria of moans you sang, an omen to your impending fall. With a last thrust, you exploded, face twisted by your sudden enlightenment, body arching before slumping back on the ground -hot, tired and utterly satisfied. You even inched away from his thrusts.

But he didn’t stop, grabbing your hips back to him. In fact…

He moved at a frantic pace, one that had you gasping in mild discomfort and clutching above your head for something to ground you.

The first few thrusts were uncomfortable, it felt too raw, too sensitive. He was fucking you through the aftershocks. He kept going until you were shaking and pulsating, kissing and biting the calves thrown over his shoulders. “Come on, you can give me another.”

You felt too hot, too bare and too fragile, overwhelmed and sobbing, unaware that your tears combined with your dazed glare was utterly desirable to him. So helpless and needy, it was exactly how he wanted you, how he imagined you during the darkest hour of his lonely nights.

The slide of unyielding hardness against your inner walls and-

You gasped, back arching as he hit the right spot. He smirked and the smugness in his eyes was almost too much but you met his hips, one leg falling from his shoulder and his face twisted and-

“Faster!” You ordered, one hand seeking refuge in his hair while you bunched your nails in his buttcheek. He groaned, a wrecked sound of pleasure but did as you said.

Your release was coming too fast and promised violent pleasure. He was bringing you to new heights never reached before and the fall vowed to be as brutal as the flight but you kept going, ready to take the hit head-on.

You came first, back-arching, pressing him closer to you and eyes unseeing before going boneless.

Benimaru pressed into you once, twice, before he released a low growl that was the sexiest sound you had ever heard and came inside you, body shuddering.

You sighed, the sound breathless and painfully soft, like you had been waiting too long and too much and had finally entirely given in.

You were a puddle of smug satisfaction muddled in your pleasure and heavy eyelids that begged to be closed.

You should have done that sooner.

He went to pull out but you shakily stopped him, begging him to have mercy and wait a little bit longer. You had yet to touch the ground. He heaved a satisfied sigh, pushing your other leg away before softly pecking your lips, holding you close.

He pushed you far beyond your limit. He would soothe you back together.

His embrace belonged more to a lover than a fuck buddy but it wasn’t something you would talk about. He cradled the back of your head, bringing you closer to his neck, and rolled on his side. Once he placed you the way he wanted, he planted a kiss on your damp hair and-

“Good girl,” his praise was rough and almost timid, as if he wasn’t used to saying it, “You did well.”

You soaked in his praise like a sponge, absorbing the validation like water in the desert, and in your state, you thought that if Benimaru was praising you then it was the truth. The man was honest to a fault. Your walls quivered and Benimaru groaned. “You should stop doing that if you know what’s good for you. I can take you a second time.”

You whimpered your disagreement, a tinge of fear on your face. His eyes creased with mirth, inwardly laughing at your state. Benimaru only knew how to wreak havoc and he certainly wrecked you. You, usually so proud, strong and independent, reduced to a fawn in his arms. His face was dripping with smug satisfaction.

The night was hot and intense but worn fingertips danced over your back, feather-light touches that only brought you into the world of dreams faster.

If only you could stay like that for-

“Oi, don’t fall asleep on me.” You moaned your unhappiness at being disturbed, trying to burrow yourself deeper in his arms but he kept shaking you awake. “We can’t stay here, we’re lucky no one interrupted us.”

Your tongue was heavy and your throat was raw but you still willed them to move. “I would have been more surprised if they interrupted us. We were anything but quiet.”

Benimaru shook you off his arm, ignoring your unhappy noises and the movement lodged his dick slightly deeper. You shivered at that. “Hina and Hika are still roaming around. The others should be at the bar.”

“Ah. The tiny gangsters.”

He clicked his tongue and moved away and out of you. You whined at the absence, not sure you were ready to have him out of you yet. “Oi.” There was a warning, one that told you he would fight you over his girls.

You snorted and jabbed a finger in his chest. Perhaps it was your fearlessness talking but you couldn’t find him intimidating, not when he was previously balls deep in you, making the most sinful noises you were blessed to hear. “It’s the truth and you can’t deny it.”

And because he couldn’t deny it, he chose to ignore it entirely. “Come on, you can stay in my room.”

How he managed to move, let alone put on his clothes was beyond you. You pouted as he put on his happi, hiding the streaked back you gave him - the trails of your nails went down to his ass and damn, weren’t you proud of yourself.

“Good because I don’t think I could have gone back home.” A grimace tore your face as you tried to massage the numbness out of your lower half. You’ve said ‘break my back like a glowstick’ before but now that it had happened, you weren’t sure you would repeat it again. It hurt and burned like hellfire. “I’m not even sure I can walk, to be fair.”

You observed him freeze in the doorway, already ready to leave the altar of your sins. You saw him considering the pros and cons of leaving you behind, of washing his hands off of you and leaving you to fend for yourself. He might be the reason for your soreness but you were the reason all of this happened. (Not that he complained.)

Indignation shot through you and you hissed: “Don’t leave me there.”

He sighed, closing his eyes before coming back to collect you, draping your haori over your naked form and whatever else he could find. “That’s what you get for teasing me.”

He rose up to his feet, you in his arms as if you weighed nothing.

“We should stop by the entrance to get my bag, and the bathroom. Actually, the bathroom should be the first stop. I’m covered in your spit and sweat and your semen is trickling down my thighs. Also, the floor needs to be washed-”

He cut you off with a kiss. “I get it. It can wait tomorrow.”

The door leading to the guardhouse closed behind you, your indignation and your sore pride.

The end. To be continued?

[honey-tongued-devil]

⤝Writober - Day 2⤞

▶Writober Day 2 “We wanted to be the sky” [Ekko]

↠English is not my first language ↠No use of "y/n", fem reader ↠TW: SFW, kinda fluff, romantic, a bit angst ↠Character/s: fem reader, Ekko, Scar ↠wc: 1.1k

▶“We wanted to be the sky”

Your eyes struggle to stay open, sleep makes eyelids heavy, and staying awake is suddenly the most difficult task in the world. It was undoubtedly a heavy week: there were toxic spills in the Sump, a couple of raids by the enforces in the Entresol, and even three firelights seriously injured which you had to rescue. I mean, you giggle between you and you, you’ve definitely earned a little rest.

You feel Ekko’s strong arms pick you up and make you do a little hop so he can grab you better, more firmly, and it’s absurd how all the noises are muffled except for his heartbeat: the boy’s heart is wriggling in his chest like a dragonfly in a cage, it seems ready to break his ribs to get out, you can almost feel it hit against your cheek, furious.

You know how much he loves to carry you in his arms like that, he does it often, and every single time he adds that remark that never fails to make you laugh: "I train for the day I marry you".

You hide your face against his chest, squeezing what little you can to gather a minimum of heat while the temperatures of the underground city suddenly drop. You can’t even imagine how cold he’s since he even took off his coat to wrap you with it. God, you always believed that being born in that sewer of the underground city was a curse before knowing him. 

But to this day, if you had to choose between seeing the sun every day or having to crawl in the Sump for the rest of your life, you would always choose the dirty air of your native land if it meant being with him, with the firelights, with your people.

"We’re almost there, hold still." his voice is broken, perhaps from the wind that slams in his face, so strong that his eyes are filled with tears.

"Are you going to marry me?" you speak softly, your voice is feeble but you know he hears it because he squeezes you even more to himself in response, nodding with his eyes tightened. You giggle, but you have to stop immediately when you feel a shooting pain in the belly.

But you’re kinda used to it, it’s quite inevitable for the place you live: you’re all full of bruises and scars, it always hurts everywhere for how many times you fall from overboard, buildings, or roll on the ground during fights and training. You just have to follow the procedure, breathe slowly to get the pain over, and he keeps running as much as possible.

"I’ll marry you now, I swear."

And you find yourself wringing your lips slightly in a smile, closing your eyes, and squeezing even closer to him.

"We get to the lair and I’ll marry you, and I'm gonna carry you in my arms..." his voice stops, and you don’t quite understand the verse that follows, maybe he slammed? A muffled sigh, before he keeps talking "...like a princess, and I’ll show everyone how beautiful my wife is." his wife. You may already be getting used to it.

"Say it again..."

"My wife"

"Once again..."

"My wife. My wife. My wife" his wife.

"I like how it sounds. From today I’ll officially be your wife. And you… you’ll be my husband."

Your neck hurts, as so does your head, and the cold is always sharper, but opening your eyes you begin to recognize the ‘sky’ above your head, now close to that place you call home. You can’t believe it, who knows if he was serious. You wonder if once you get there he really is going to marry you, I mean, it was an odd way to propose, but his voice didn’t sound like a joking person's.

But when you finally get there, instead of smiling, he screams at the top of his lungs.

Scream so loud and desperate you get goosebumps.

He asks for help, yelling so much that he loses his voice. He falls to his knees, but you don’t get hurt, no, even blinded by despair his first thought goes to you, he covers you with his body as if he wanted to protect you from everything. And he cries.

He’s so happy to finally marry you that he cries as his life depends on it.

You don’t really understand what people are saying, and in all honesty, you find it hard to distinguish their faces because of sleep; someone pushes Ekko away and you try to get up but the limbs don’t respond, probably numb from the cold. Damn, and to think that this morning you were even sweating!

"It’s all right, hold on" Scar whispers caressing your face, someone rips your shirt off, and you feel warm water soaking your chest in an unexpectedly relaxing sensation. Thinking becomes more and more difficult, everything turns, everything is confused, but you trust them. It must be a strange custom of firelights, you think. Some kind of preparation for the bride.

"you know..." your voice is hoarse, the taste that reminds you of iron is getting stronger and stronger in your throat, and it’s disgusting. "Ekko and I are getting married."

Scar grits his teeth, probably he wanted to hear it from his best friend, but you need to say it out loud to feel it more real.

"We are getting married, and he promised me..." your chest hurts "that he will carry me all over the lair, to show everyone how beautiful his wife is." Just laugh, your head spins.

"When we were younger we wanted to be the sky. I know, it doesn’t seem to make sense, but the sky was huge, it was beautiful, it was boundless. And we wanted to be like that. We ran to Piltover to look at the clouds. But as I got older, I realized that if the sky equals freedom, my sky is here. I don’t have to climb the rooftops to reach it." You smile weakly at Scar, sleep is becoming really unbearable but you’re embarrassed to admit that despite how excited you are your eyes are struggling to stay open. You are tired, your eyes are tired, your voice is tired.

You just want to sleep.

"I can’t believe it" you see them moving their mouths, they seem to talk but you can’t hear any sound, just annoying static noise. You don’t even know if you’re just thinking or talking out loud at this point. "We’re getting married. We’re finally getting married".

Your eyes close.

And everything fades black.

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

Okay my life got unexpectedly busy so I dont have art for this, but:

10 concepts for architecture, furniture, and minor lifestyle details when writing societies of winged people (any wing type)

1. Since people fly all the time, most of the buildings are probably up higher, with walkways between them. Winged people would invent amazing suspension bridges long before they invented a wheel (see also: the mountainous regions of central and south america, where wheels are not very useful, but bridges are extremely important)

2. Doorways would probably be wider and taller to better accommodate wings, no matter how they're held at rest (ex: if you want fairies with dragonfly wings, their rest position is out to the sides. So wide doorways would be important.) And doors would more likely be sliding doors rather than hinged doors (so you don't have to worry about stepping back and aside for the door, you can just walk through and not risk having your wings bump stuff)

3. Speaking of wings bumping things! Tall ceilings, wide hallways, and absolutely zero breakable objects at potential wing bumping height. The walls are basically bare from shoulder height on down.

4. Hammocks and nests instead of beds. Any form of sleep furniture must be built to let people comfortably sleep on their stomachs, possibly curled up into a fetal position with their knees beneath them. Lots of pillow piles. In the same vein, any lounging furniture would be built with either no back or a very low back. Maybe things like couches and chairs that just have a single armrest to lean against, but no back. Lots of sideways lounging. Any tables would have stools rather than full backed chairs.

5. Wing care is important. This will vary based on the style of wing you're using. Feathery wings will more likely lead to a culture of social grooming and feager combs. Maybe every bedroom has a wall with a feather comb to rub up against. Chairs that seat two so they can help each other groom their feathers. Bat wings would need regular bathing routines, probably some very nice large tubs in their homes for a proper washing, also a social grooming culture around that. Insect wings, I'm not sure exactly. They don't need cleaning the same way. But they are easier to damage. And we know from real life that they can be repaired and replaced! So perhaps a society of people with insect wings would get very very good at prosthetics and wing modification.

6. Wing flapping creates wind. So maybe people would hang up windchimes to hear when people come and go. Theres a lot of wing flapping involved in the landing process, so wind chimes would be an effective way to notice when someone has just landed at your doorstep.

7. Big windows, easily opened. Sometimes you just dont want to use a door. The door is the formal entrance, but windows and skylights are the causal entrances and exits.

8. Consider nomadic winged people who migrate seasonally: they would probably develop a lot of lightweight gear to help them migrate with all their belongings. Hammocks, communal huddling, possibly advanced cartography skills, special devices to distribute weight between multiple fliers carrying a large object together. Special carrying devices to hold children, elders, and the injured.

9. The outsides of every building would have many perches, especially social buildings. Rooftops are just another social space. Ladders are commonly used by anyone who cant fly for any reason.

10. Pretty much anything they make is going to be lightweight but hard to break. More carved wood dishes than ceramic ones, archery more than swords, very light clothing with open backs. But paper maybe not so much. It blows around too easily. Maybe they invent voice and image recording devices sooner than other people so they can more reliably record information in flight.

And that's 10 ideas for world building with winged people! @wolfeyedwitch I hope this is helpful to you! And to anyone else who may have been having trouble thinking up little details for their own winged folks.

[anthemxix]

There is something that I noticed while watching a game play of Hyrule warriors. Once You get the great fairy in the game but the way she fights is what got my angst side tickling. The way she fights is that she puts Link in a bottle and fights while he’s in the bottle, and once there’s a victory. The great fairy lets him out and you can clearly see his discomfort when she spins around him and such. Just something i noticed that i thought might be important for yah. :3

thank you so much for sending me this! it makes me so happy that you thought to share this with me. thank you ;w;

the whole getting-stuck-in-a-bottle thing is perfect for angst, and i was going to write something angsty, but then...this happened?? tl;dr for this fic is as follows~

hyrule: i don't like trapping fairies in bottles. warriors: yeah, getting trapped in a bottle sucks. hyrule: wait, what? warriors: what?

like that's it, that's the fic. also, wind is the problem child here because the fairies in WW look so sad after you catch them XD

Deep in the woods, the heroes find a sanctuary.

The densely-packed, straight-backed trees open up into a sunlit pocket, a secret glade undisturbed for centuries, where the air holds still like bated breath. Playing among the sunbeams, fluttering on filmy dragonfly wings, are dozens upon dozens of fairies.

Hyrule smiles fondly as he steps into the clearing, stretching out an arm in invitation. Several fairies, awash in a pastel pink glow, drift towards him and perch there like birds on a branch. A few more land on his shoulders; a couple snuggle into his nest of unruly hair.

“Oh, this is great!” Wind chirps. His voice seems unnaturally loud in the quiet, sacred space, and a handful of the fairies on Hyrule’s arm startle and flit away. The Traveler turns, prepared to admonish the Sailor for his volume, but he pales as he sees Wind, and several of the other heroes, fishing empty bottles from their bags.

Fairies’ healing magic is more potent than any potion, so Hyrule understands why the other heroes want it at their disposal; yet the idea of trapping one of these magnificent little creatures for days or weeks on end merely to exploit her generosity makes Hyrule uneasy. He knows what it’s like to be so small and helpless, and he can only imagine the horror of being imprisoned in a cramped bottle with nothing to do but breathe increasingly stale air and wait for freedom.

Hyrule holds out his other arm to offer refuge to more fairies; several more pink orbs alight on him without hesitation. Dismayed, he watches Wind ready his bottle and make a wild swing for a fairy. She bleats in alarm before zipping away.

His next target is not so lucky. Wind catches this fairy between his hand and the bottle, effectively jamming her inside.

“Sailor—,” Hyrule begins, but he cuts himself off as, to his surprise, Warriors clamps a firm hand on Wind’s shoulder and spins him around. He’s wearing the irritated scowl that’s usually reserved for Legend.

“What do you think you're doing?” the Captain snaps.

The triumph over a successful catch swiftly drains from Wind’s face. “What do you mean?”

“You have to be more careful,” Warriors chastises. “If you insist on detaining them, at least don't hurt them.”

“What? I would never—!” Pausing, Wind gives the cross-armed Captain a once-over, defensiveness dissipating in favor of curious realization. “Wait, why aren’t you grabbing any fairies…?”

Huh. Now that Hyrule considers it, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Warriors with a bottled fairy of his own. He hadn’t realized the Captain, too, is sensitive to the plight of these little winged creatures.

Blatantly discounting the question, Warriors says, “Look, why don’t you let Time give you pointers on how to do this properly.”

Wind’s imminent protests visibly shrivel as his gaze follows to where Warriors points. Time stands peacefully in the middle of the glade, open bottle passively upheld; a fairy willingly flies inside and allows herself to be stowed in Time’s bag. Attention captured, Wind bounces over to Time without another word to Warriors.

Eyebrows raised in amusement, Hyrule relaxes. Wind hadn’t intended to mistreat the fairies, and his youthful vigor is disarming. He glances at Warriors, expecting to see a similarly amused expression on him, given the massive soft spot Warriors has for the kid, but Warriors isn’t looking at Wind or Time at all. Instead, he’s watching the others collect fairies with an expression Hyrule has never seen on him.

His irritation, it seems, was a knee-jerk reaction, a symptom masking the real problem, which apparently is…discomfort?

Hyrule watches as now, in the quiet, some fairies drift towards the Captain, languidly orbiting him or touching down on his shoulders. If he notices, he doesn’t acknowledge them, continuing to watch the other heroes with crossed arms and pursed lips, like he’s tasted something sour.

Stepping closer, Hyrule says, “Uh, h-hey. Captain?”

As if he’s forgotten Hyrule was standing nearby, Warriors startles, but he quickly composes himself, seamlessly transitioning to an air of detached, smoothed-over neutrality. “Yes?”

“You okay? You look a little, uh…spooked.”

“Of course.” He buries one hand in the folds of scarf around his neck. The lie is painfully obvious, though Hyrule isn’t certain if that’s a cue to keep pushing or to let this go.

Fortunately, he doesn’t need to decide. Warriors drops the hand from his scarf and instead hooks his thumbs onto his belt. He’s in his observational tactician mode, his posture and expression shuttered so that he gives nothing away, only takes in. “You know, I'm not as in-tune with magic as you or Legend, but I’ve always been able to sense the residue of fairy magic on you, Traveler. Why is that?”

The deflection is unexpected, Hyrule thinks, but he supposes he can’t call it unfair. Secrets are like anything else: earned, not free. So he barters.

“Yeah, it’s, um. It’s from…a spell I can cast.”

“What does it do?”

“Uh, well, it’s…” He swallows. Maybe he isn’t ready to divulge this particular secret in full. “It sort of…replicates fairy magic, you could say.”

Warriors looks like he wants to ask more; Hyrule jumps in before he can. “So you don’t like catching fairies, huh?”

He can almost see the same thought process flicker across Warriors’ face: get a secret, give a secret.

One hand trails up to his scarf—a nervous habit, Hyrule figures—but then drops to his side again. “I don’t like the idea of trapping them.”

“Neither do I,” Hyrule agrees.

Warriors’ gaze is fixed on the others again, on the bottles in their hands. His hand returns to his scarf, and this time he absently toys with it, mind preoccupied. “...I know what it’s like.”

“What…what’s like?”

“Being trapped like that.” His voice has gotten quieter, his gaze more faraway. “And no matter what you do, you can’t get out.”

“Oh...I...I'm sorry,” Hyrule fumbles, not sure what to say.

“No one took it seriously,” Warriors continues. He untangles his hand from his scarf, holds out a finger so one of the fairies on his shoulder can perch there instead. “I felt so small and helpless...but it was just a joke to everyone else.”

Hyrule shuffles uncomfortably, scrutinizing the somber way Warriors is looking at the fairy on his finger. “So, um...what...where were you...trapped, exactly?”

Warriors frowns, and for one hopeful moment, Hyrule thinks he’s going to get an answer. But then Wind is bounding over, chattering excitedly, earlier tensions seemingly forgotten. The fairies around Warriors flutter away in a cloud, and Time is gathering everyone up so they can keep moving.

Well. A half-truth exchanged for a half-truth. It’s a start, Hyrule supposes. At least it’s a start.

[kitchenscene]

forever & a pond for the word place thing

until you say i do forever + a pond [ao3 link] _____________

It’s a late summer night. Water flows below them, passing under the bridge. Trees hang low, branches swaying in the wind. He has to duck his head to avoid the leaves. It’s all in vain, they still fall into his hair only to be plucked away by another breeze or Buck’s gentle hand.

The creek flows into a small pond, stepping stones carving a path across the water. Frogs croak and leap from rock to rock, chasing each other in circles, cheering each other along from the tall grasses growing along the sides. Crickets echo their calls, though their bouncing is more discrete.

Stepping side by side, the wood creaks as they pass over the bridge. Slow steps, soft steps, barely moving along. Their hands swing together in the little space that remains between them, interlocked. Shoulder brushing against shoulder, soft circles against his palm.

There’s a gentle weight in his right pocket, a platinum ring against his thigh. It should scare him, but it doesn’t. If anything, it’s grounding.

read on ao3

“I never thought I’d have this,” Buck breaks the silence, holding up their joined hands. Eddie turns away from the path ahead to look up to him. His curls sway in the wind, tangling around his hairline.

“I hoped I would,” Eddie admits, “didn’t always believe it, but I hoped.”

Stolen glances, lingering touches, he hoped. Movie nights, family day trips, he hoped. Take out containers and desserts without recipes, he hoped. For a long time that’s all he could do. Settling into his feelings and settling too late, Eddie truly had terrible timing. His breakup led perfectly into Buck’s newest relationship. Seven months, all he could do was hope. Hope and wait. Buck and Taylor, he knew they wouldn’t last, and most days he felt awful, praying for Buck’s broken heart, praying he would heal and move on. Longing hurts. It hurts and hurts and hurts.

It took time, but they healed together. There wasn’t a grand confession, no dramatic declarations. It was a car ride, driving home from a slow day. Buck called it home without hesitation, and Eddie begged for a red light, wanting nothing more than to take his face in his hands and say, “You. You’re my home.”

They didn’t stop until they reached the driveway, parked on the left, Buck’s parking spot. Eddie took his hand before he could reach for the door, pleading for him to stay, knowing his confidence soon would fade.

“Stay,” he said, holding on tight, “not just for tonight.”

“I don’t plan on leaving,” he assured, “Not ever.”

Eddie didn’t fall for Buck, no, it was a choice. He didn’t trip over the edge, stumble into love, but rather jumped off the cliff, diving head first, knowing he’d be caught somewhere along the way. He chose to lean closer and whisper promises into the air between them. He chose to hold Buck’s face in his hands, a reassurance that he wants this, them together, as long as he can have it. Buck may argue it was the other way around, but Eddie kissed him. All the hoping, all the waiting, he kissed him first, leaving no room for doubt in between. He made a choice, there in the driveway. He’ll make the same one, time and time again.

The bridge turns off into a boardwalk, a solid oak platform suspending them over the water. Information plaques prop up off the outer railings detailing the plants and wildlife surrounding them. They stop walking. Buck stares out onto the pond, lilies overgrowing and dragonflies swarming. It’s beautiful, the moon reflecting off the water, ripples outlining the shore. Eddie stares at Buck instead.

“There’s dirt on your face,” he laughs, wiping it away with his thumb. Eddie leaves his hand against Buck’s cheek long after the spot is wiped clean.

“And there’s dead leaves in your hair,” Buck says, turning towards him, ruffling his hair. The dirt and leaves float to the ground, falling between the wood panels, lingering on the water’s surface. He reaches up to fix his hair, but Buck messes it up once again. His laughter is bright, the frogs and fish and hidden crickets all return to laugh along.

“You’re the worst,” he teases, sliding his hand from Buck’s cheek to his hair, shaking out the curls. Buck swats his hand away before letting it rest on Eddie’s arm.

“You love me,” Buck says with absolute certainty.

“How could I not?”

With a heart so full, so willing to give and give and give, how could he not? Loving Buck is the easiest choice he’ll ever make.

His face softens at Eddie’s question. A smile lifts that he could not possibly force down. They lean against the edge of the boardwalk, a dark night, though he can see as clear as ever. Somewhere above is the moon, lighting the way. A little further is the stars, leading the way. They see the ring in his pocket, and they twinkle with anticipation.

“I love you too, y’know,” Buck says, still holding Eddie’s arm. His own hands trace Buck’s ribcage, counting the bones, shifting with each breath.

“I never doubted it,” he says. “Even when you mock me, even when I misunderstand you, even if we’re fighting. You’re still easy to love.”

They sway together with the breeze under the watchful eye of the stars. He pays attention to Buck’s gentle hold, to the soft chirps and the splashes. It’s a good moment, one of the best. He’s right where he needs to be, and he never wants to forget.

“You’re easy to love,” Buck returns, “you’re also easy to mock.”

Eddie pinches Buck’s side and he laughs at the touch. “I’m telling you how much I love you, and you’re making fun of me?”

“You make it too easy.”

The weight in his front pocket feels a little lighter.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he says. “You and me, forever. That’s the deal.”

Buck is his best friend. They became something more, boyfriends, life partners, but underneath all that, they’re still just best friends. They make stupid jokes that become incomprehensible to anyone around them. One word, two words spoken is worth essays and speeches, even in silence, they understand one another.

“You’re sure?” Buck asks, though his smile is evident. “Forever’s a long time.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Not long enough.”

One lifetime, one thousand, it could never be enough, though he’ll do what he can with the time they have. God knows they’ve already wasted enough.

He pulls one hand away from Buck’s waist. Somewhere in his pocket, buried deep, there’s the ring. It spins between his fingers for a moment before surfacing, just above the seams. He squeezes tight, not willing to let it go. Eddie looks down, watching the metal shine in the moonlight. He doesn’t fall to one knee, no, he doesn’t fall. There’s a fraction of a speech in his head, though he could never find the words to fully encompass his thoughts. He’s muttered hundreds of, “I love you’s,” over the years; it will never be enough.

Buck doesn’t look down at the ring, he looks to Eddie instead with such softness. He’s noticed it’s a look reserved for only him, just as Eddie’s loudest laughs are only for Buck and Chris, and how he only lets himself be held by Buck.

He lifts the ring a little higher, finally catching Buck’s eye. His breath hitches as he glances between Eddie’s hands and his eyes.

“I want forever,” Eddie says, “but I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“You can have forever,” Buck nods, pulling him impossibly closer, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He leans down to kiss Eddie like it’s a promise, a pinky swear. It’s a feeling he’ll never tire of, being molded by Buck’s touch, firm and gentle. No rush, no booming in his chest or flipping in his gut. Safety, that’s all it is. It’s coming home, it’s a solid landing. Buck kisses him with determination, as a reassurance. He’ll never leave, it’s laced in every kiss, somewhere between their lips. Eddie leans back, lifting the ring once again with a laugh. There’s a question he forgot to ask.

“Marry me?”

Bucks nods again, nose brushing against Eddie’s. He nods once, twice, kissing him again and again. Even if he never asked, he’s certain the answer would’ve been yes. Buck could say nothing at all, and he’d still know the answer.

He pulls away long enough to slip the ring onto his finger, hands tangling, platinum shining in the moonlight. Another leaf falls in his hair, he makes no effort to move it. It’ll fall with the breeze, while Eddie stands with Buck. Hands roaming, kisses repeating, he stands with Buck.

send me a word + a place and i'll write you a short buddie fic

[betawooper]

Beneath Her Mask (KNY)

CW: canontypical violence (for KNY), death

Figured I could share this on its own because I like it. Basically a Shinobu character study lol

(rbs are appreciated)

~

“Huh, fifth one.” Douma glances nonchalantly at the purple veins on his hand, already slowly receding back into his skin and turning pale, as good as new. “Looks like that one didn’t work either, huh?”

Shinobu clenches her jaw, cold sweat beading on her brow, her blade clicking the inside of her sheath once more.

That recovery time is ridiculous.

And each time she creates a new mixture, it takes him less and less time to heal from it. She had expected him to build a resistance, but deep down, hoped it wouldn’t have dragged out this long.

(Is she foolish for hoping?)

“Oh, you’re sweating a lot, my dear. You must be losing your breath.” Douma tilts his head, putting a finger on his lips. “Looks like your lungs are going through necrosis, as well. I mean, my Blood Demon Art is pretty cold so it makes sense. Just didn’t expect it to take this long.”

She grits her teeth.

Breath of Insect: Dance of the Dragonfly — Hexagonal Compound Eyes.

She dashes. Six jabs—neck, forehead shoulders, knees—ruptures arteries, blood gushes like the insect’s crimson eye, as she flits through the air.

“You know... you might be the fastest Pillar I have ever met.” He smiles, even with his veins swelling up dangerously and taking over his face.

Shinobu lands, ready to insert her blade back into her sheath to mix another poison.

Her hand stiffens and shakes uncontrollably. Then her blade drops, stained with the blood erupting from the huge gash across her torso as she bites back a cry.

Shinobu tries to breathe.

She can’t.

It—

Her shaky legs give out and she drops, coughing, and coughing crimson blood all over her hands and the ground, and she can’t...

She can’t get up, either.

Shit.

“Oh, I must have gotten your lungs there.” He says. Shinobu doesn’t have to turn to see he’s completely healed from her last poison, only hearing his footsteps clack against the floorboards.

The damn bastard...

“The lungs. A Demon Slayer’s source of strength, yet their main weakness. Can’t use your cool Breathing Techniques without being able to breathe, after all.” He chuckles. “Probably doesn’t help that you were born with a pitifully small stature.”

Shinobu shakes when she looks at her hands, her small, weak hands...

“You can’t even hold a normal blade, can you? Much less cut off a demon’s head.” He continues. “You don’t have to lie, my dear. Poison was just a backup plan, wasn’t it?”

Shinobu clenches her hand in a fist and trembles.

Why... is she so weak? Why couldn’t she grow as tall as her?

Why couldn’t she be her?

Shinobu has done everything.

Everything.

She’s slayed high-powered demons left and right since accepting her Pillar title. She’s stayed up countless nights perfecting her poisons. Made them stronger. Better. More Powerful. More Dangerous. She’s adorned the haori made for a person bigger than her. She’s stood for hours in front of mirrors, practicing her smile, her lilting laughter, her pleasant voice.

She’s killed her old, weak self to retain even a little bit of her spirit.

But she has always known...

She could never become her.

“Shinobu!” A familiar voice stuns her enough to jerk her heavy head towards it. She swears she sees pink, tear-filled eyes. “Shinobu, what are you doing? I told you! I told you to quit! I told you I didn’t want this for you!”

...

Visual and auditory hallucinations...

That must be it.

“Oh, goodness, I’m... incredibly sorry.” Douma’s irritatingly carefree voice is closer. “You must not be responding because of my half-hearted slash, and are now in terrible amounts of pain.”

Shinobu can’t give up.

No matter what.

Even if her wings are ripped to shreds...

She has to keep going.

She will never, ever, forgive herself if she dies like this.

So slowly, Shinobu stands. Sharp, biting pains jolt through her nervous system when she curls her fingers around her blade and lifts. Her head aches and pounds from lack of oxygen and blood. Every centimeter of skin drips with sweat, freezing from the cold air, and she shivers more than she already did.

Only her charred, broken spirit keeps her warm as she glares at him over her shoulder.

“Wow, you’re actually standing? I’m surprised! Your lungs must be completely shredded...” His words slur together in her mind, mix into a hazy soup, but none of his words are new to her, nor do they mean anything to her. Her chest flares up in pain and coughs out more blood, the taste of metal fresh in the back of her throat.

“Oh my... You don’t have much longer left to live now that blood has entered your lungs, do you?” He sighs. “It’s pitiful seeing you in so much pain. Why don’t you give up? It would be so easy, no?”

...

Breath of the Insect: Dance of the Centipede — Hundred-Legged Zigzag.

Left.

Smash.

Right.

Smash.

Each time she skitters from side to side, she smashes the ground mightily—poisons her blade with something (she doesn’t care what)—the floorboards explode around her feet, rapid, unrelenting, confusing. Her unwary prey looks on, still processing where she’s gone.  

His eyes widen and a glint of gold—Shinobu ducks, the icy shards slicing off her haori, clenching her hilt tight.

Grits her teeth.

Looks up to his throat.

The thrust of her blade, powered by her leap, surges up.

Up into the roof.

Smashes into the roof.

Her blade sinks through his esophagus and smashes through stone; his rainbow eyes bulge out.

She keeps hold of the hilt, no matter how ragged her lungs feel, no matter how overloaded her brain becomes with every nerve ending sending it millions of pain signals like cicada cries, no matter how much her physical body forces her to let go, to stop.

Her iron grip only toughens with each plea.

...

~

They were so happy.

Her mother, her father, Kanae, and herself.

Shinobu would solve puzzles and clever riddles told by her mother and father. She would smile when Kanae came home, telling funny stories about her classmates before Shinobu was old enough to attend school with her. She would cry when she was forced to eat cut octopus legs, thinking they would get stuck in her stomach because of their suction cups.

Life was so simple.

There’s no way she could have known their happiness laid on such a thin sheet of glass until it broke one unforgettable, and terrifying night.

A night which would plague Shinobu’s dreams until she died.

~

Their beloved home.

Splattered with blood.

Kanae failed to keep Shinobu’s eyes from peeking out between her trembling fingers, and seeing their parents’ mutilated bodies in front of them, their useless fists curled around kitchen knives and other sharp objects, stained red by their own blood pooling around them.

Shinobu swallows around the thickness in her throat, forcing herself to look at anything but the blood. Her terrified eyes land on the huge man standing in their kitchen, wearing a monk’s robes, holding a ferocious flail and axe in his hands while the monster in front of him slowly turns to ash.

Once the monster fades away, he turns to face the open closet they had been hiding in, his eyes pale and sad.

“I’m sorry. I came here too late.”

~

The monk’s name was Himejima Gyomei. He’s a Demon Slayer tasked to protect humanity from demons, from horrible monsters like the ones who killed their parents, and... he’s the strongest of them all.

A Pillar.

While Mr. Himejima went to bury their parents behind the bloodstained home the Kochous would soon abandon forever, Kanae turned to Shinobu, her eyes tinged red from tears.

“We should become Demon Slayers. I’m not sure what the monster comes from, but there are others who haven’t had their happiness destroyed.” She held her pinky out and with a seriousness she has only seen on her normally carefree face while studying for school. “Promise you’ll help me protect that, okay?”

Shinobu wiped away her own stray tears and lifted her tiny pinky towards her sister’s. They link in an unbreakable chain.

Yubi kiri genman

Uso tsuitara

Hari sen bon, no masu

Yubi kitta

With this promise, they would protect humanity’s unshattered happiness.

Together.

~

The two pestered Mr. Himejima and followed him to his home near the waterfall, pleading with him to teach them how to slay demons. He was as stubborn as Mt. Fuji, insisting they should grow up without having calluses grow on their delicate hands nor stain their unblemished skin with demon blood, but the Kochous have already kept scars from that night. It’s too late for them, and they made a promise.

Eventually, like a rock giving way after hundreds of years of grueling erosion, he compromises and sends them to Flower Breather Cultivators.

Not the same one. Different ones.

What’s the reason?

Well, Kanae could actually cut off demon heads.

...

It’s the first time Shinobu saw the rift between her sister and herself split open.

~

Sunlight rises above the wisteria and turns the sky a clear, hopeful blue, Shinobu running past the red poles and straight into her sister’s open arms, her face threatening to split open from her smile. They laugh and cry, their hug so tight they could have merged into one.

Final Selection is over.

Kanae is alive. Shinobu is alive.

They’re alive.

“Shinobu, oh, I was so, so worried when I lost track of you on the first day—” Kanae grabs Shinobu’s face once they parted, pulling a handkerchief from her kimono and rubbing off the dirt and old blood, with a firm and aggressive resolve. “How did you even kill the demons? You have a sword, yet I know you couldn’t cut off their heads! Oh, your face is so messy...”

“Ack—I’ll show you if you stop trying to give me friction burns!” The younger Kochou waves away her sister’s fussy care, and steps back, taking her blade out.

Kanae’s eyebrows raise at the surprising lack of blade—ninety percent of it knocked out, leaving only the thick spine and the sharp tip. Shinobu smirks, flipping it around in a flourish before pointing at the tip. “Anyways, I used wisteria poison.”

“Whoa...” Kanae’s eyes sparkle, before she claps excitedly. “Ooh, that’s so smart! I wish I had thought of that!”

Shinobu sheathes her blade, glancing at Kanae’s own—normal-looking—blade tucked into her belt, her smile dropping slightly.

“Alright, come on, Shinobu! Let’s go wait for the others!”

“Yeah. Good idea. Let’s go!”

~

After they obtained their uniforms (burning the original ones, of course), the two worked side by side in almost every mission.

At least, initially.

When her sister proved to be much more enduring, much more formidable, much more talented, she was sent out on her own a lot more, rising through the ranks much faster than Shinobu could recover.

That’s the second time Shinobu saw the gap between Kanae and herself widen.

It was inevitable that the next time Kanae came back, her clothes would be torn, her skin laced with injuries, and her eyes blood red, yet would still be alive and smiling, showing Shinobu the kanji for “flower” on the back of her hand with excitement and pride.

She had defeated a Demon Moon.

And her first task as the Flower Pillar was to enstate Shinobu as her Tsuguko.

Like a naive fool, expecting to never adorn the golden buttons because surely the gods would be merciful this time, Shinobu accepted the position.

~

As the years passed, and the Butterfly Estate they were offered by Oyakata became more lively with the addition of Aoi, Kanao, the three little girls, Shinobu noticed how Kanae looked more and more forlornly at the demons they’ve killed. She didn’t think much of it at the time, simply content with being able to help protect people with her sister once again.

Until she saw her pray.

There, right in front of the fading ashes of the demon, Kanae stands with her hands clasped together, bowing her head, whispering quietly so Shinobu wouldn’t hear. When Shinobu called her out on it, Kanae jumped like a kid being caught red-handed, nervously chuckling, trying to deny it but Shinobu isn’t known for her curiosity and persistence for no reason.

Eventually Kanae gives in and reveals she really had been praying for the demon, blessing their soul and making sure they never become a demon in their next life.

“My heart hurts knowing they were formerly human. They didn’t have a choice to turn into monsters. Don’t you think it’s pitiful?”

“... Yeah. Sure.”

That’s the third time Shinobu saw the gap between Kanae and herself widen.

~

Every time Shinobu and Kanae went on missions together, Kanae would pray.

She would pray for the demon to have a blessed reincarnation. Pray for them to feel the sunlight again. Pray for them to be happy and live fulfilling lives, to never become a demon when they are born again.

Shinobu still didn’t understand why Kanae pitied the horrible creatures so much. They had no recollection of their former lives nor cared for even their own family. They were fueled by bloodlust and a craving for human flesh—a bundle of animal instincts—and nothing more.

Kanae’s too nice.

Kanae’s growing too soft.

Kanae’s going to die because of this.

~

“Shinobu...” Kanae chokes out, weakly reaching for Shinobu’s tear-stained cheeks and wiping the tracks away, to little avail. “I... I told you everything. About the demon. That’s it.”

Kanae’s eyes are crimson, the sclera stained with blood. Shinobu still wonders how her sister lost even after using that technique, but that doesn’t matter right now. Not when they’re beginning to flutter shut, for possibly the last time.

“Okay. Okay.” Shinobu grasps tightly to her sister’s hand, ignoring how limp it grows. For a fleeting moment, Shinobu wants to believe holding on to it tighter would keep her here.

“I—I swear on my life. I swear I’ll kill him—”  

“N—No. No, no, no—” Kanae’s tear-filled eyes fly open, filled with urgency. “You can’t. You can’t kill him. You’ll lose.”

“Nee-san, why are you saying that?”

Kanae swallows hard, shutting her eyes tightly. “Please. Just quit. Quit being a Demon Slayer. Drop the blade and never look back. Be a normal girl, for my sake. Please... That’s my last wish for you... Please...”

...

~

Shinobu’s body burns.

It burns like never before, every cell searing, every organ turning to ash underneath her boiling skin. Only her heart is untouched, beating furiously to make up for the loss of blood from the gaping wound she could no longer close with her breaths. Not with her lungs in tatters, and not with the heavy, freezing air suffocating her the moment she tries to heal.

The demon’s face hisses and decays, his eyes rolling back into his skull. The tip’s edge of her blade catches more flesh and tears it open, like yanking an arrow out a fresh wound. From it, dark veins sprout outward through untouched pale skin like a spider’s web, pulsating once, before slowly sinking back in, as if they never appeared in the first place.

Of course that one didn’t work...

I’m...

I’m angry.

It’s the first thing she admits to herself. Shinobu hasn’t admitted anything to herself in such a long time, but it feels good.

I’m angry.

I’m grieving.

I’m hurt.

I’m growing numb.

I’m in pain.

I’m going to die.

After years of forcing every useless and selfish thought her old self silently whispered in her head during sleepless nights away into the pit of growing nothingness, it’s like shackles are broken from her hands, her feet, her throat. Each admission is freeing.

But anger.

Satisfying, burning anger is the one emotion she relishes in the most. It’s the only feeling that clinged on when she purged herself of all her silly emotions, left to fester over the years and replace her blood, her organs, her will to live when she had lost everything years before.

It feels so, so good to accept it wholly, and completely, she could laugh.

Her mother.

Her father.

Her sister.

She’s angry at herself for being too slow, too weak, too helpless to grab their hands and keep them from leaving.

She’s angry at them for leaving her all alone in this world.

She’s angry at the cruel world that keeps taking, and taking, and taking, and giving nothing in return.

And...

When Douma’s face heals, the neck wound seals shut, and he smiles once more, her mask cracks. Her face twists in pure fury, channeling every bit of hurt, and suffering, and pain through her glower.

... She hates him so much she could cry.

Why.

Won’t.

He.

Just.

Die?

Whips of ice crystallize behind his back and latch on to the closest pillar of stone, slowing his descent, before more tendrils shoot towards Shinobu. They wrap around her middle—yank her back up—the vague feeling of arms enveloping her tightly. So tightly, she gasps in pain.

But... everything is dull.

Becoming duller.

“That was amazing!” Shinobu feels something wet drip on her shoulder. The demon is crying. “I never expected a weak girl like you to get this far—it was truly moving!”

Her head buzzes, her world turning dark and blurry.

“Your foolishness is so remarkably human. Oh, it’s so wonderful how determined mortals are despite knowing their efforts amount to nothing! You’re finally worthy of being saved by me—I’ll hold onto your hopes and dreams forever, don’t you worry. Now. Are there any last words you have to say?”

Gritting her teeth, she spits out.

“Fuck off.”

~

If you want to see more of this, check out my rewrite!

[splintergirl13]

So here is a little head cannon I thought of while reading your fan fic.

What if herobrine never had/celebrated his birthday so he forgot when it was, so Steve and Alex pick a day and celebrate his birthday with him. (P.s. sorry I have horrific grammer)

I liked this idea so much I made a little drabble under the read more :3 I hope it is worthy of such an great headcanon! Thank you so much for the ask! It fills me with joy to hear that people are thinking about my story lol <3. And don't worry. Grammar is hard and doesn't make any sense. I feel your pain

Before we dive in: this takes place pretty earlier into Steve and Brine becoming friends. So they are just starting to pine. Not in a relationship yet. Alex and Brine are still a little wary of each other but have come to accept that they are stuck with each other.

I'd say this is rated teen for just some small strong language lol

-

The Birthday Brine

-

It was a hot, lazy summer afternoon. Too nice to spend down in the mines. But a little too warm to do any strenuous activities.

So Alex and Steve decided to go on down to the small river they frequented on days like today. A secluded area where the water pooled deep enough to swim. And, of course, Herobrine tagged along. As was becoming more of the norm these days.

Steve was lying comfortably in the shade of a few trees on the bank of the river. Legs in the water; small waves lapped up to his knees as the water went by. Arms crossed behind his head. His shirt was off and laid over his eyes, shutting out any of the light that filtered through the leaves. Not really dozing off, but close to it.

Herobrine was similarly relaxing. He lay on his belly; balanced precariously on a nearby tree that had fallen over the river. Looking like a big cat lounging about in the direct sun. Soaking up the rays. One hand was draped down to the side, touching the cool water.

Alex was the only one fully in the river. She was a little upstream, floating on her back. She had taken off her pants, leaving them on the shore, and let her long green shirt cover her lower half. Every once in a while she would swim back to her original place as the current took her down towards Herobrine.

The trio had been chatting absentmindedly. Talking about anything, really. Steve ranted humorously about his pickaxe making a squeaking sound. Alex discussed way too many of the current happenings in town. Even Herobrine brought up that a dragonfly had landed on his shoulder. Which had the trio all staring for a bit before it flew off and they went back to their current positions.

It wasn't until a certain question came to Alex’s mind that the peace of the scene was disturbed.

"Hey Sparky." The adventurer asked. "...How old are you?"

Herobrine took a while to answer. Seeming to think through the question slowly. Finally he asked without opening his eyes. "Why?"

"Just curious." Alex shrugged, swimming a little.

The demon shifted. Now peaking over to look at Steve. It was like the miner could tell that he was being looked at because he lifted his shirt to look back questioningly.

Herobrine spoke up. "When was the last time I respawned? Four months ago?"

Steve frowned. "Yes. More like three. You fell through a roof, remember?"

"Right, right." Herobrine moved his hand up out of the water. "Terribly made and rusty old structure. Glad it forced a respawn. Tetanus is not fun even with healing powers."

"Why is this relevant?" Alex asked impatiently.

"I'm 28." Herobrine said immediately.

Alex sat up in the water. Causing a bit of a ruckus amongst some fish that had gotten close. "No you're not!"

"Yes I am." Herobrine turned his attention to her. She shuddered ever so slightly under his scrutinizing stare. "Every time I die, I respawn back to the same age at which I turned immortal."

Alex crossed her hands over her chest. "Okay, well that's only technically. I meant, like, if you count ALL the years you've been alive."

"I have no fucking clue, Alex." Herobrine rolled his head to the otherside of the tree to ignore her. Yet continued to talk. "Time loses all meaning when you're immortal. Not to mention I was trapped in the nether for most of that time. So it's even harder to tell."

"What's your best guess?" Steve asked, now curious as well.

And the head came back around. Looking at Steve. The demon wouldn't ignore the miner. He bit his lip, eyes trailing towards the water. "I dunno... maybe a few centuries... a millennia or so..."

"Old." Steve clarified. Seeing that the demon was struggling a little.

"Yeah... old." Herobrine scowled.

"So, what, do we have to, like, wait until you live a year to celebrate your birthday?" Alex giggled. "No wonder you don't remember it. It would never be your birthday based on that criteria."

Herobrine scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"Yeah." Steve added, putting the shirt back over his eyes. "Come to think of it, when is your birthday, Brine?"

"You want to know the exact date I was born?" Herobrine sat up now, clearly confused. "Fuck... I don't know. I didn't even keep track of days back then. I just survived. It wasn't until I met... my brother that we talked about days. And he was able to do some weird 'code calculation' as he called it to figure out my true age. But we didn't really care about that. None of us counted in the aether. None of us wanted to count. When you have endless time you tend not to care. It's a depressing chore."

"So none of you celebrated your birthday?" Alex asked.

"Why would you celebrate your birth?" Herobrine growled. "Existence is a curse."

"That's why we have to celebrate!" Alex exclaimed. "It helps us mortals to forget about our fleeting existence."

"Yeah!" Steve enthusiastically raised a fist to the sky in agreement.

"Like the aether needed another reason to celebrate..." Herobrine grumbled, flopping back down on the tree. "The amount of bullshit dances I had to get dressed up for was astronomical."

"So you really have never had a birthday, huh?" Steve wasn't sure why he was surprised.

"Nope." Herobrine said, popping the p and settling back on the tree. Thinking that was the end of the conversation.

But Steve and Alex had other plans.

"Bro you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"You think we have enough time today?"

"Sure why not? We were already planning on going into town together."

"Then we better hurry."

"What are you two talking about?" Herobrine muttered. The siblings were getting out of the water and putting back on their clothes.

"We're going to throw you a birthday party!" Steve smiled over at him.

Herobrine almost fell off his branch.

"W-what? Why?"

Alex shrugged. "Well, if you don't know what day your birthday is, it might as well be any day. And since we are already all together and don't have any plans for the rest of the evening... why not?"

Herobrine teleported off his tree and stood next to the two. "You really don't need to-"

"Too late, it's happening." Alex smiled. Starting to walk off. Not putting on her shoes as she walked through the increasingly tall grass.

"Go wait in the nether and come back around sunset!" Steve pushed on his back excitedly. As if he could shove him through a portal that wasn't there.

"Why?"

"We are gonna surprise you!"

"Oh. Yippee. Surprise." Herobrine did not mask his unenthusiasm.

"It'll be fun, I promise." Steve said as he stopped pushing and went to go join Alex.

Herobrine was left alone and very confused as to what had just happened. He blinked up at the setting sun and winced. He wouldn't know the correct time in the nether. So he decided to go back to his tree branch and relax until the time came. He had no idea what was in store for him. But he didn't try to think too hard about it. If he didn't like it he could always teleport away.

All this talk of aether and age had his head buzzing with unpleasant thoughts. He tried to will them away and think of nothing instead. Watching as the river flowed beneath him. The dragonfly landed back on his hands.

-

It was just after sunset when Herobrine was walking up to Steve's small house and knocking on the door. Steve was adamant about him knocking. As Herobrine had the tendency to just teleport into a location, unannounced. There was the sound of muffled talking as well as a wonderful smell of something cooking in the furnace.

He heard the miner walk towards the door, he recognized his footsteps easily. Much different than Alex’s.

Steve cracked open the door. "Herobrine, you have perfect timing! We are just finishing up."

Herobrine tried to move forward but Steve closed the door more. He smiled, shyly. "Er. You gotta close your eyes."

"... Why?"

Steve smiled wider. "It's all part of the process."

So Herobrine huffed and closed his eyes. Steve took him by the hand. Leading him inside. Herobrine could feel his heartbeat where they connected. The miner was excited. So Herobrine was excited.

He was led into the house and then Steve stopped and walked over to join where he could sense Alex.

"Surprise!" They both yelled.

Herobrine stood there with his eyes closed. Face oozing confusion.

"Open your eyes now, Brine." Steve whispered loudly to him.

"Oh." And he did. He blinked and took in the sight.

The inside of the house was decorated with a few colored strings on the ceiling and what seemed to be little torches everywhere else. It was very simple and yet very pretty.

"Do you like it?" Alex asked.

"We didn't have too much time to decorate so we made due with what we had." Steve said. "Probably not as fancy as your aether parties."

"No." Herobrine smiled. "But I like this better." The aether parties were always decorated with too much. This was nice and made Herobrine feel cozy.

Alex gestured to the table, patting the chair to sit down. "Since it's pretty late we figured we'd just do a birthday dinner. Steve said you would eat if we made you food."

Herobrine nodded. Glad he hadn't had anything to eat for a while. He wasn't the biggest fan of eating. Steve had been reintroducing it to him slowly. The miner was an excellent cook.

"Good!" Alex smiled. Steve sat next to Herobrine at the table. "I handled dinner and Steve handled the most important part of a birthday, the dessert!"

"It all smells nice." Herobrine commented politely. It did. He was actually excited to eat.

Alex disappeared into the kitchen. Preparing plates for them all. Steve and Herobrine shared a look. Both smiling, somewhat uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. It didn't last long as Alex came out with two plates, setting it down in front of them.

The meal consisted of roasted corn, slathered in butter, some sort of shredded pork on bread with some sweet sauce, and a cold potato salad. Steve instantly dug in. Probably hungry from all the work they had been doing. Herobrine waited for Alex to return with her own plate before starting to pick at the food. It wasn't long before he was eating more sloppily than Steve. Alex apologized, saying she wanted to make something more special like a smoked biscuit but Herobrine wasn't sure why she was sorry. It was all delicious. And Herobrine found himself wanting to eat the entire plate. It was the perfect meal on the warm night.

The house was filled with the delightful sounds of eating. None of them talked very much. Not needing to. Just enjoying each other’s company. And the food! They were all very invested in the food.

Once they were done, Herobrine was tempted to ask for more. But he remembered that there was still dessert to eat. He started to try to clean up his plate. But Steve stopped him immediately. "Ah, ah. No dishes when it's your birthday."

"Hmm. This birthday business keeps getting better." Herobrine smirked at him.

Steve disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two plates filled with two generous slices of homemade chocolate cake.

He set them down in front of Alex and his own seats. "We have a special slice for you, Herobrine. Hold on."

Steve rushed away and walked slowly back with a similar piece of cake. But this one had a very tiny torch stuck in the middle of it. Herobrine blinked. Huh. Strange.

"It's a candle." Steve explained. "It's a tradition to have some on your cake. We only had this old one." He set the on fire cake in front of him. Herobrine enjoyed the fire flare. "Usually you have a candle for every year you've been alive."

"But that would've set the house on fire." Alex snickered.

Herobrine rolled his eyes and tried to grab his fork. But Alex stopped him. "Wait! We have to sing to you!"

"Er, no thanks." That seemed silly. He did not want to be sung to.

Steve made a face. "I don't like that part either. I think we should skip it."

"We have to! It's tradition!" Alex wrapped her elbow around Steve’s neck. "Come on, Stevie. One time!"

"Alright. Alright." He caved easily. And they began.

Herobrine sat awkwardly as the two sang a little song. Saying his name. Herobrine had never heard Steve sing. It was nice. He had a pleasant voice. He thought the man should sing more. He hummed a lot but never truly sang.

Once they were done. Alex said. "Now you make a wish and blow out the candle."

"A wish? Wish for what?"

"For anything." Steve added. "But you have to wish in your head. And don't tell anyone or your wish won't come true."

"Like a curse?"

"Yeah kinda. But it's just for fun."

The demon chewed on his lip. Seeming to think about it. He nodded eventually. "Okay. I've made my wish."

"Now blow out the candle to complete the spell." Alex joked. Steve nudged her.

Herobrine looked at the small torch on the cake and willed the fire away. It went out.

Alex and Steve stared. Alex giggled. "Guess there's more than one way to skin an ocelot."

"Why would you-" Herobrine blinked.

"It's an expression." Steve laughed, sitting down and picking up his fork to eat his piece of cake. "Ignore her and dig in while the cake is still warm."

Herobrine did, setting the small torch- candle aside and picking up his fork to eat. The cake looked moist. Fresh. And smelled absolutely delicious. His mouth was watering before he even put the treat in his mouth.

When he took a bite he almost moaned. "H-holy fuck." He quickly took another bite.

Alex giggled. "Never had a Steve-made cake have you?"

"Steve, you should stop cooking everything and just make cake from now on." Herobrine had almost finished his piece already. It was just so damn good. He couldn't stop.

"Then it wouldn't be special." Steve chuckled. Looking happy that they both seemed to be enjoying his cake.

"Can I have more?" Herobrine asked, frosting definitely smeared all over his face, unabashedly.

Steve and Alex howled at that. The demon just looked so different from how they normally saw him. It was nice. And also hilarious.

Herobeine got a second slice and sat back, looking full. The demon didn't usually eat so it was a lot all at once. Totally worth it though.

"Present time!" Alex jumped up from the table as Steve moved the dishes into the kitchen.

"Present time?" Herobrine parroted.

"You get presents on your birthday!" Alex walked over to grab two things that had been set aside on a coffee table. "From everyone who comes to the party."

Alex handed Steve something and walked back to the table to give Herobrine a rectangle that looked like a book wrapped in paper. Herobrine took it confused. "Er, thanks?" He held it in his hands.

"You gotta open it dude!" Alex said excitedly.

"Open it?"

"Yeah tear open the paper!"

"Oh." Herobrine, a demon of destruction, ironically opened the book very carefully. Not wanting to damage it.

He held the book up once it was unwrapped. It was, indeed, a book. Not too hard to guess correctly.

"It's a book of modern day phrases." Alex explained. Tapping the cover. She smirked. "I know that you have some trouble with some of our more modern hip lingo."

Herobrine lifted an eyebrow at her. He flipped to a random page. "There's more than one way to skin an ocelot? Oh. I get your 'joke' now."

"See. You're learning already." She snickered. Steve smiled too.

Herobrine looked confused. But not unappreciative. He waved his hand, tucking the book away into his inventory. "Er, thanks. I will read the rest later."

"No problem!" She giggled. She then pushed Steve forward. "Go ahead, your turn."

Steve had a paper package tied up in butcher's twine behind his back. He coughed and walked forward, handing Herobrine the parcel.

The demon took it. Knowing what to do now, he tore into the paper. Revealing what was inside.

He paused when he realized what it was after pulling all the paper off and letting it float to the ground.

"It's... your cloak." Herobrine said. Not giving away any emotion. Steve seemed to droop a little. Expecting him to be a little happier. Alex nudged the miner. They shared a look. Steve rolled his eyes. He walked closer to the demon, touching the cloak in his hands.

"I knew it would already fit you. And there wasn't enough time to get you a new one made. I just know how much you like to borrow it from me when it gets colder." Steve ran his fingers along the cloak. Pointing out some stitching on the green material. "I sewed up all the holes so it won't be as drafty. And-" He tapped the button that held the cloak together. "I replaced the old latch with a golden one I got from town today. I know you said you like to wear a little gold in the nether for piglin respect or... whatever." The miner let go of the cloak and backed up, rubbing his head awkwardly.

Herobrine stared at the green gloak. Rubbing the material in his fingers.

"If... if you don't like-"

"I love it." Herobrine almost whispered. Sounding so genuine it made Steve blush and Alex smile. "It's perfect."

"O-oh." Steve scratched his head again. "Good. I'm glad." He smiled, looking away. Desperately trying to hide his blush. He had gone bright red. And Herobrine wasn't helping.

The demon stood instantly and put the cloak around his body. He had worn it before. But it looked different now. Like it was his now. It was truly his.

Herobrine looked up at Steve. "This is... the greatest gift I've ever been given." He didn't smile but his glowing eyes said it all. He was absolutely telling the truth. "Thank you, Steven."

The miner stared back. Smiling to the side and tilting his head. Embarrassed but screaming on the inside in happiness.

Alex had to butt in. Not liking the way the two were looking at each other and getting a little protective of Steve. "Pfft. Thanks a lot there, Briney boy. Glad my gift meant nothing."

Herobrine blinked. Processing the words. And then realized. "Oh, no, sorry Alex. Thank you as well."

"Yeah whatever." Alex nudged him with her fist, walking past him. She then let out a yawn. "Well. I think I'm all birthday partied out. Mind if I crash on your couch, Stevie? It's too late to walk home."

"Sure I'll get you some blankets." Steve mimicked the yawn. His eyes looked tired. They did do a lot to put the party together for him. They deserved a rest. "Happy Birthday, Brine."

"Thank you." Herobrine nodded. "Thank you both. This was... enjoyable."

"See our traditions aren't so bad." Alex said, flopping down on the couch.

"I do believe I've judged it too early." Herobrine nodded. "You do this every year?"

"Yep. And you get to do the planning and gift giving to us when it's our birthdays. No party is exactly the same." Alex nodded. "I think planning is actually more fun than celebrating your own birthday."

"Oh. Well I look forward to that. You will have to remind me when the time comes. Time is... difficult for me."

"Of course, dude." Steve produced some blankets from the closet. Herobrine sensed it was time to make his leave. He headed for the door.

"Thank you again." He said a little awkwardly. "I will uh, see you both tomorrow."

"Sounds good!" "Bye!" The siblings said.

And with Herobrine out the door. Steve and Alex looked at each other.

"I think that went well." Steve said.

"I think you owe me money for not making a single birthday suit joke." Alex said back. He threw the blankets over her head as she giggled.

"Goodnight Alex!" He went to his bedroom, trying to hide his blush. "Put out the candles before you sleep."

"I'm just saying, Stevie! That would've been a better gift if you-"

"Goodnight Alex!!"

Herobrine stood just outside the door. He wiggled his shoulders a little. Feeling the soft weight of the cloth around his shoulders. He smiled. Feeling warm inside and out. And teleported off.

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Red Witch

Jasper Hale x Reader Part 4

A/N: Part 4 has arrived my lovelies! Sorry if it took too long, I was really busy with work. And I just wanna say, even though I have never met you all, I love you guys and wish you a blessed life. 🥺💕

Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.

Warning: language

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 5

The apparition faded away and the shaking of the furniture came to a stop. You felt the heavy weight lift off your chest as you were finally able to move, allowing you to take in a gulp of cold air. The scream that was trapped within you for so long from the paralyzing sensation was ripped out of your throat, echoing into the night. You yanked yourself out of bed and fell to the floor, wheezing and trembling as you clasped a clammy hand around the base of your throat, clawing at the invisible hand that seemed to be wrapped around in a tight grip. It felt as if your head was about to burst as you tried to regain your breathing. Your vision was blurry from the lack of oxygen as you heard the door bust open and Harper run in.

“(Y/N)?! Are you okay? What’s going on?!” Harper cried out in a panic, her brows etched in worry as she saw you shaking on the floor.

“Harper. Stay back.” You struggled to say between coughs. You looked down to see your hands returning to their claw like shape, the black tendrils forming at the skin of your fingers.

Your vision slowly cleared up and you looked up to see Melanie enter your room next with a lantern in her hand. She stared at you with wide eyes as she held Harper behind her. “Mon dieu! (Y/N)! Is everything alright? I heard a warning through the trees. They spoke of a presence.”

You were still on the cold wooden floor on your hands and knees, still trembling in cold sweat as your hair fell over your face in a tangled mess.

“Those. Those things. They’re back.” You sobbed as tears fell down your face and onto the wooden floor. You didn’t want to look up at your sister. She’s never seen you like this and you were thankful in the short moment for the darkness.

“Those things? You mean the spirits? (Y/N), mon amie.” Melanie carefully stepped towards you, trying to reach a comforting hand towards you to rest on your back.

“No!” You stopped her. “Please. Don’t. I need to be alone.”

“(Y/N).” You heard Harper call your name.

“Please.” You begged, turning your face away from their stares.

“If you’re sure. Allez Harper.” Melanie muttered before putting an arm around Harper’s shoulders and leading her out of your room and leaving you to yourself with one last saddened glance. It broke her heart to see you in this vulnerable state.

Melanie offered to take Harper to school as you felt you were unable to. You felt ashamed. You felt weak. That morning, you sat on a chair out on your balcony, wrapped in a shawl with Maleficent curled in your lap, watching the sunrise. The sun peeked out over the horizon, illuminating the dark hills in the distance with a golden glow that slipped through the bundle of trees. You felt the warm rays of the sun touch your face against the coolness of dawn, like the gentle caress of a loved one, which is something you’ve never had the ability to experience, and yet, a wave of relief washed over you. You didn’t know why, but you sensed as if there was a bit of hope left to this day, that it might turn around for the better. You thought perhaps that it might be due to the end of the night and the coming of a new day.

After sitting out and basking in the scenery for a while longer, you went back into your bedroom and threw over your nightgown a floor length dark blue velvet robe that had embroidered flowers and hummingbirds at the collar, cuffs, and hem, tying it around your waist. You then put the front strands of your hair back, tying it with a blue silk ribbon.

You wandered mindlessly through the halls of your manor with Maleficent accompanying you at your side, your bare feet tapping against the cool dark walnut floors and occasionally brushing upon the soft handmade wool Turkish rugs that slightly tickled your bare feet. The skirts of your attire flowed with your every step while you lightly hummed to yourself, until you stopped at a particular room.

You stared at the large double doors before you that led to a surprisingly decent sized area that could be held as a ballroom. You pushed open the doors and glanced around at the tall windows before landing on a large object that sat in the back corner. Your grand piano. You walked over to it and pulled the dust cover off, running your fingers lightly across the keys before sitting down on the bench. You sat there for a moment, pondering, your fingers shifting above the keys. You breathed and started to play a meloncholy tune and began to sing. You haven’t sang or played the piano in a long time, not since Jasper at least. But you were currently so melted in your music, playing along with your eyes closed that you didn’t notice the person walking up to your front door this very moment.

Jasper stood under the porch at the front door of what he believed to be your residence. His eyes observed the intricate wood carvings and the detailed exterior work, and the somewhat sinister looking greenman door knocker that Jasper could’ve sworn was staring him down. Your home reminded him of a time he used to know, back before all of this. Jasper was about to ring the doorbell but stopped when he heard the sound of a piano come from inside. He leaned closer, and that’s when he heard your voice. Your hypnotic yet haunting voice that resonated beautifully with the melody, creating this ethereal sound. He pressed his ear against the door and his breath cut short. He was entranced to say the least from this beautiful voice. Yet, why did he feel as if he heard your voice many times before.

You were still lost in your music until you heard Edgar’s voice coming from the living room.

“Ack! There’s an intruder at the door! Someone has invaded our premises! Ack!

Intruder?

You stopped and snapped your head towards the entrance. Who could it be?

“Have you gone deaf? Intruder I say! Intruder! Intruder!”

“Silly bird.” You muttered, throwing on your gloves and cursing under your breath.

You secretly hated having to converse with visitors you did not expect nor know. The same went to Maleficent for she ran off once Edgar mentioned someone being at the door.

“I’ll have you know there’s a sign out that strictly says no soliciting.” You call out as you walk towards the door. Now unless you have Girl Scout biscuits I want no part of it.”

You unlocked the door and yanked it open, only to stand in shock to see none other than Jasper himself at your doorstep.

“Hi.” He gave a short smile as he studied your flushed face. His eyes roamed down your attire, the way your long thick hair cascaded over your bare collarbone and down your chest, and the way the loose strands in the front curled delicately about, framing your face. He quickly looked back up at you as to not seem rude but stopped at the locket around your neck. There was a slight tingling in the back of his mind regarding the locket with the dragonfly but he couldn’t figure out why.

As for you, though you were modestly covered, you felt exposed and couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks. Jasper had never seen you in your night attire. A situation such as this would’ve caused quite the scandal back then.

“Uh, can I help you?” You played it off, adjusting your robe to cover your collarbone. “I believe the coffee shop is downtown. You do know you’re at my personal residence don’t you?”

“Um, can I speak to you for a moment?” He seemed uneasy.

“Um sure. Come in.” You stuttered, the question catching you off guard.

You opened the door wider for him to come in, and your heart skipped a beat as you felt him brush by you.

You closed the door and turned to him, clasping your hands together and fidgeting with your fingers. You were quite nervous having Jasper in your home. “Would you care for some tea? Or coffee?”

“I’ll have some coffee, thanks.”

“Okay, um, you’re welcome to have a seat in the parlour room, on the settee, or whichever.” You gesture to your room with the fireplace and the set of Victorian chairs with tables.

“Thank you.” Jasper nodded his head at you before heading into the room. You made your way to the kitchen and made yourself a cup of blueberry lemon tea and a regular coffee for him, cursing in your mind during the whole task.

After the drinks were prepared, you went into the Parlor to see Jasper slightly reclined on the settee, his gazed fixed on the crackling fire in the fireplace.

You tried not to tremble when handing him his drink. Jasper thanked you as you handed him his coffee before sitting down on a dark red velvet chair across him.

You both sat there in silence, struggling to find the words to say.

“Why the gloves?” He nodded towards your hands.

“Oh um. I have very sensitive skin.” You’ve always used that excuse whenever someone asked you.

More silence.

Was he skeptical of you? You didn’t know why he was here wanting to speak with you, but it was starting to become unsettling.

“Who are you?” He asked first, still staring off into the fireplace.

“I’m sorry?” You faked a smile, “I own a coffee shop downtown.”

“No. That’s not what I meant.” Jasper stopped before turning to face you. “Who are YOU?” He emphasized.

There was a certain coldness to his gaze and it made you cold. This wasn’t like Jasper.

“I-I” you tried to come up with something, anything.

“Ever since I first saw you, I’ve had this strange feeling.” Jasper laughed bitterly with a shake of his head. “Hell, I don’t even know you, and you sure as hell don’t mean anything to me.”

Ouch. That hurt.

You felt your chest tighten from those words, but you kept your ground. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I feel like you do. It explains why you’re so nervous at the moment.” He gestured to you. “I can sense these sort of things. So, tell me. Why is it that I feel like I know you when I don’t. And how come, how come you don’t smell human? What are you?”

You straightened up in your seat as your vision from last night flashed in your mind.

We are monsters. He could never love a thing like you. No one can.

So it’s true, you told yourself. You weren’t human, no matter how hard you tried to be. They could never accept you as one. Your father used to say the same thing. His disdain for the human race was evident and he held a great pride about him for being a powerful sorcerer. He would tell you to not meddle in mortal affairs. He tried to mold you into his ways. Which is why you spent your childhood locked up, away from humanity and only surrounded by your father’s sadism. Had you not had your mother, your poor kind hearted mother who was bound to your evil father, you might’ve turned out just like him. You often pondered upon it. And now, you were wondering whether your fathers words were true or not. Was he right about the human’s hatred for your kind?

“Jasper.” You breathed out, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying his name. You were torn apart, tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you stared down at the cup of tea in your hands.

“Ah, so you do know me.” He sat back, his stern eyes never leaving yours.

“I-I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Well you could start from the beginning.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Look.” Jasper sighs, running his hands through his hair. “I just want to know what the hell is going on.”

“I can’t. I literally can’t tell you even if I tried.” You set your tea down on the table as you tried to explain yourself. “All the words I say will have no effect over you.”

“Great. So what? Am I supposed to just shrug it off? Pretend like all these feelings I’m getting from looking at you is just a bunch of delusions?”

You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “There is another way.”

“What other way?”

“But it can be a dangerous process.”

“How so?”

“I can try to reach into your mind and try to resurface your memories.” You revealed to him. “But, if something were to go wrong, you could lose everything. Even any knowledge of who you are.”

“You what? How?” Jasper looked at you confused. “What do you mean reach into my memories? You’re not a vampire.”

“I promise you, when this goes according to plan, I will explain everything.”

You got up and sat next to him on the settee, your head pounding in your chest as you placed your gloved hands on either side off his head. “I’m going to need you to stay still. This may sting a bit.”

Part of you didn’t want to do this. Trying to unwind the memory spell on Jasper meant that you would have to relive those memories you shared with him all over again. And you weren’t sure your heart could take this torment.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked him one final time.

There was a pause as you watched Jasper look away, weighing the decision in his head before looking back up at you.

“Go ahead.”

There was your answer.

You could feel Jasper’s eyes on you as you closed your own, pursing your lips into a firm line in concentration. You tried to keep your hands still on either side of his head as you lightly touched his temples, trying to focus on the first memory you had of him. The day you first saw him in Texas.

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