#And she has long translucent hair

[daxned]

She has been lashing, long tendrils that were translucent in color (not its original black) would outstretch, attacking anything that dared come near her. She didn't understand ANY of this because a moment ago she had been with Sukuna. They had escaped and she could have sworn they were back up safely with the tiny monster held in her hand, but....

She's here. No signs of Sukuna and no signs of the Sapling and she's alone, in a body she is NOT familiar with. Underwater. When she looks down, she sees the hundreds of tentacles that replaced her two working legs and just like her tendrils, her tentacles were a translucent blue. When she examines her hands, they are webbed. Fitted for something like this. She can breathe underwater easily, much as if she were breathing in air from shore. Her hair which was a long white was placed as the color as her entire body. A translucent blue-like color.

She's never seen one, but she knew she was a jellyfish.

Quickly, Dam-bi turns around when she hears her name called. An unfamiliar male at first, but upon him approaching her closer, she recognize him to be Eiden.

"..I don't know where the others are..." she breathes out. She's surprised to see him here and almost instantly from down below, she notices something just below them.

@daxned

If someone asked Eiden he could only say he looked handsome with all these thin, brown-cream coloured, spiky fin rays, that flowed along him in the water as he moved further to the empty hull he'd found. some even stuck out from his hair.

He'd like to keep admiring himself but his surroundings sure turn him back to the moment as a small school of fish floats by, vibrant in colour leading him further into the hull.

When he suddenly meets someone there Eiden gets almost a heartattack. Soon it sinks in that it's someone familiar.

" Dam-Bi! Is everything alright?! "

[jaewritesfic]

Melon!AU Part 5

Part 4

Warning on this one for description of vivisection injuries

Bruce is the first out of the Batmobile when they pull into the cave specifically to raise a finger to his lips and sign to his collected children to be quiet.

Dick, Damian, and Tim all beat them there, and Steph seems to have invited herself back from patrol in order to see what's up with the creature nobody could see over video feed.

Alfred hovers quietly because of the unknown injuries that likely need treating.

The kids all give him varying prompting looks of confusion about the order as he moves to open Cass's door for her.

He turns and signs to them what Cass had carefully signed to him in the car.

She thinks he's asleep.

Everyone's eyes bug out in surprise, Dick and Steph both making faces like they want to coo out an ‘awwwww.’

Damian seems like he would be tempted to do the same if he wasn't still more than a little wary.

Cass climbs out of the car slowly and carefully, trying not to disturb the sinuous shadow who still has his head tucked into her shoulder and tail and arms wrapped around her.

Steph's eyes get wide, the only one of the kids present who hasn't seen him yet. Alfred barely reacts aside from a slight rise of the brows.

Alfred inclines his head towards the medbay, but Cass hesitates and shakes her head.

It's a little difficult when she's trying to make sure the creature stays secure, but she manages to sign awkwardly behind his back.

Very scared when I mentioned doctors. Probably trauma.

Waking up in anything resembling a medical facility probably wouldn't go well, in other words. Alfred hums quietly, mulling that over for a moment before he nods and gestures for the kids to come help him.

Quietly and efficiently, the group pulls a bed and supplies out of the isolated medbay and into the cave at large, closer to the lounge area the kids have slowly built up through the years than anything.

Ideally the change of venue will be unnecessary, but if the creature does wake up it's worth trying to lessen the chances of immediate backlash.

It's really no wonder he passed out, Bruce thinks. Cass had made it clear he was exhausted and on the verge. None of them are under any illusions that that's not why he accepted her help.

She was the least terrifying option and he was running on fumes.

Alfred glances at Cass, and that's all the prompting she needs to come over and very gently lean down to set the creature on his back on the bed.

Alfred is just as gentle when he has to carefully pluck the shadowy claws out of her cape in order to get him to let go, and Cass carefully unwinds the long tail from her waist and legs.

When she straightens back up, Bruce closes his eyes hard for a moment and bites back a wave of nausea.

Jesus Christ. Medical trauma? No fucking wonder.

Bruce forces himself to open his eyes and look.

Whatever this creature is, whoever he is, he must have escaped straight off of an operating table. The green blood is leaking from haphazard stitches just barely holding a massive Y incision on his torso together.

Vivisection.

Distantly, Bruce hears Dick retching. Sees his kids in varying states of distress over the same conclusions Bruce has just come to.

Mostly, he's focusing on trying to breathe through his anger. It's of no use to any of them right now - they need him calm.

It's strange, looking at the creature's face now. With eyes and mouth closed it's a blank slate of black, no features to be found. Like a mannequin head, misty white hair still unbound by gravity.

Parts of him are just barely translucent, mostly the edges of limbs. Bruce has never seen anything like him.

Alfred catches his eye with practiced ease, signing quickly and looking solemn. Bruce can see the pain hidden behind his calm features, his dismay that something horrific has been done to a living creature.

There is not much I can do without opening him back up, especially not knowing what he is or what is normal. Disinfect, stitch and bandage. Then hope for the best.

Bruce sighs slowly through his nose, feeling helpless but nodding. 

Alfred turns to Cass for a moment.

I assume because you are calm that he is not meant to be breathing?

Bruce nearly chokes, eyes darting back to the dark figure on the bed. Indeed, there's no motion.

Cass nods. Her chest is very green.

Hasn't been. Seems fine.

He doesn't breathe - at least not visibly. Is he like a salamander, does he take oxygen in through his skin?

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter right now. This creature - this boy - needs help. He needs his chest disinfected and his scant few stitches redone.

From the looks of them, Bruce would bet money that he did those stitches himself not too long ago.

Masterpost

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part eighteen —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Over the next four days, you find yourself panting in exhilaration each morning you spar with Ghost. Every slam of your hand into his ribs feels strangely better than the last. He goes harder on you. He'd been holding back, too, apparently— an unfortunate fact for your ribs. The pain seems to motivate you more, even if he is still beating the shit out of you.

Blue also motivates you. "Hit his nose again!"

Of course, that is the one part of him you purposely avoid.

The sun returns and sweat glides down your face. You knee his stomach. It's less vulnerable than swinging a kick, but still, he attempts to grab you by the waist. You quickly skirt away, the ground firmer beneath your feet, only for his hand to latch onto one of your braids, instead. A sting pulses through your scalp as he tugs hard, wrenching your ear close to his mouth.

"Quicker. Good. But don't get too cocky."

"I thought you wanted me to be more confident," you retort between ragged breaths. 

"Yes, but you can't forget who has the advantage here." There is the slightest bit of arrogance in his voice that makes your teeth grit.

"How could I ever forget?" Your head tilts and he releases the braid. Suddenly, the thought of smacking his nose again doesn’t seem so bad.

His eyebrow quirks. "Get some water, Twix. You need it."

The water caresses your tongue as you gulp it down without abandon. Unsurprisingly, Blue has disappeared somewhere in the treetops. The lack of more broken bones has waned her interest.

When Ghost lifts his mask to drink, you steal a glance at his nose, noticing that the swelling has gone down significantly. The fact he is still wearing that thing with a broken nose upholds your theory that he is at least slightly insane— as if the fact that he once shoved a gun into your fresh wound wasn’t already evidence of that.

Out of nowhere, he materializes beside you and places a hand on your stomach. Your sore muscles spasm under the surprise of his touch, his long fingers stretching from one side of your ribs to the other.

"Your strength starts here,” he explains in a hoarse murmur. “Keep it tight and you will deliver more damage."

You purse your lips to hide a wince and tap your nose. "Don’t I already deliver enough damage?"

"The nose is fragile. You may be landing more hits on me, but I still hardly feel a thing from them."

He allows you to pry his hand off, but the pressure of it seems to linger. Ghost studies you in a way that turns you translucent before demanding, "Lift your shirt, Twix."

Exhaling through your nose, you hesitate before peeling it up, revealing the collection of bruises you have earned from him. A myriad of pink, purple, and yellow skin flares up under his gaze. They have been giving you a hard time lacing your boots and tying your hair in the morning, but once you get moving, the ache becomes easier to ignore.

He has already seen your stomach and more, yet, your skin itches from the exposure. You shove the shirt back down.

His expression shifts. "You should have said something."

"They're just bruises. I'm not bleeding or anything."

"Still."

"Still what?"

He looks irritated. "You need to fucking communicate."

"I don't see why it matters. No coddling, right?"

"That doesn't mean I'm interested in breaking you."

You jerk your chin up to meet his stare. “You won't."

Blue swings down from a tree, plopping between the two of you and unintentionally—thankfully—putting an end to the subject. "I'm glad you two are finally getting along. It's good for the team." She nudges her dad. "But are you done with her yet? You can't just hog Twix all to yourself."

He clears his throat and the air between your bodies breathes wider. "If you're getting bored maybe we need to find something for you to practice."

"Nope!" she says quickly. "Not bored at all." 

He nods to a tree. "Go on. Practice your knives. You haven't done that in a while. Then, you can have her."

With a groan, she trudges away. 

The sparring continues.

Ghost's fists soften by a smidge.

"He annoys the shit out of me sometimes."

Blue rips up a tuft of grass as you inch back to admire the swipe of color on her eyelids. It was her idea to use the bold-colored flowers for makeup— just like the models in her magazines. You did your best to mash the petals and mix them with some creekwater, but the result is kind of patchy and not nearly as smooth as the stuff you used to put on years ago. 

"Hold still. I'm doing your cheeks next."

The sun highlights the splash of freckles on her cheeks and you try to recall if Ghost had them. Her nose is nothing like his. A dainty button. Another trait she must've gotten from her mom. 

"Did you used to wear makeup?" she asks curiously, eyelashes fluttering down. 

"Sometimes. Especially when I went out."

"Went out where?"

Concentration nudges between your brows. "To clubs and stuff. It's where people would... dance."

Her lips spread as she cocks her head to the side in a manner that emulates her dad. You have to remind her again to stop moving. “Oh. Sorry. You danced?"

"I mean, not good dancing. Just dancing for fun,” you murmur, shrugging at the faint memories of being sandwiched between strangers, alcohol flowing through your veins rather than fear and adrenaline. Back then, mornings were spent nursing a hangover before class rather than earning bruises from an ex-lieutenant. 

Humor dances in her eyes when they reopen. "I don't think Ghost ever went to a club. I cannot imagine him dancing."

The images in your mind morph into something utterly laughable— him standing there like an immovable tank as people try to dance around him. "No, probably not."

"He never really tells me about his life before shit happened," she says thoughtfully. 

This piques your curiosity, but you keep your voice light. "No?"

"Well, he tells me the simple stuff. Mostly about his job. But never... never the small things, you know? Like I have no idea what he used to do for fun or what his life was like when he was a kid." She pauses a moment before adding, "He had a brother. That much I know."

You glance up. "Had?"

"He died before the virus. His mom and dad, too. But every time I ask how they died, he just says," she deepens her voice, "'Doesn't matter how, kid. Dead is dead.'"

"Oh, um, yeah, that sounds like something he would say." You tap your fingers under her chin. "I can put some on your lips, too."

Her eyes close again as she puckers her lips out. When you're done, she continues. "He also never talks about my mom." Her face twists. “I think he thinks talking about her will hurt my feelings."

For a few seconds, you struggle to find a response. The rare mention of her mom always makes your heart stutter, but this time, your broken, callused hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's okay to feel hurt, you know."

Blue shrugs and looks up at the cobalt sky. "I don't think I remember her enough to feel that hurt anymore. She feels so... far away. I remember small things, like the sound of her voice and her old apartment where I lived, but sometimes I wonder if I am making up those memories, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." A terrible urge sits on your tongue to ask her more about her mom, about what exactly her relationship was like with Ghost, but Blue changes the subject before you can.

"Does the makeup look good?" A shy blush clouds her cheeks.

You stand up with a faint smile. "I think I did pretty damn good. Come on. I want you to go look in the mirror."

Music.

It pounds so hard you feel it in your chest.

Neon walls enclose you as someone touches your backside, dancing against you. There is a man's voice in your ear that you think you recognize but it's hard to hear him through all the laughing and chatter. Your hair falls in loose curls down your back, free of braids, and you swipe it from your sweaty skin before excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You push through the people. The narrow hall is shrouded with different doors... so many doors. Where is the bathroom? It must be a Friday night on Oxford Street with how fucking crowded and stuffy this place is. Someone knocks into you roughly and your footsteps quicken. A sense of urgency drags you into the next door you come across, a large one made of grey oak.

The smell is horrendous but you feel relieved to see urinals and stalls. Immediately, you press into the granite counter and grip the edge as you catch your breath. The scratched, warped mirror houses a face covered in makeup. Youthful eyes. Flushed cheeks. How much have you had to drink? You need to go home. You will pee and then go home, you tell yourself. Over and over, you repeat this as you relieve yourself in one of the graffiti-doused stalls where condom and tampon wrappers crinkle beneath your heels.

When you're done, you try for the large door you came through, but it doesn't budge. The muffled music outside has faded. Panic sears your chest. You press your back against the door. The bathroom has changed. The stalls are gone. The walls feel like they are closing in, and the smell of piss turns into something even worse. You are alone. Where is the man you came with? You look down. Dead bodies. Strewn limbs. You're standing on a pile of them.

You start screaming. Banging on the door. Digging your fingers into the wood until the flesh rubs down to bone. 

It's not a room anymore, but a box. The fluorescent lights replaced by sheer darkness.

The edges of the door disappear.

A sickening silence replaces your screams.

And then—

"Twix."

You sit up, wild-eyed. You grip onto something—fabric—and a foul taste travels up your throat without warning. You heave several times, your entire body shuddering. 

When awareness settles in, you wipe your mouth and blink up. Ghost. He is... here. Hovering over you. His shirt is tightly bunched between your fingers and you have just vomited into it. The realization smacks you awake and you recoil sharply, staring at his moonlit mask with an expression that must be just short of mortified.

"I... Fuck. I am so sorry. I don't know why— I just..."

When you dare to look at the mess you've left on him, you nearly vomit again. Hands shaking, you rub at your clammy face and begin to ramble unthinkingly as his stare flickers between you and his soiled shirt.

"I've been trying so hard not to hold back like you said, but I think it is fucking me up a little and letting out some things— memories, I guess. I was pretty good about keeping it all in my box because I've been too tired to even think about it, but now I just..." You trail off, realizing your words must make little sense. 

"You've certainly let something out," he rasps.

Your hands drop against the sofa and you cringe. "I'll wash it for you. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

You inhale. "I just fucking threw up on you."

"I'm aware."

Ghost straightens. He pinches the collar of his shirt and carefully hoists it over his head. Then, you're looking at his bare chest. Slivers of moonlight caress rigid brawn and mountainous scars that capture your gaze for a few heartbeats before you tear it away. 

"I'll, um, hang it outside and... wash it in the morning." 

Your legs are unnervingly steady when you stand up and take the shirt from him, carefully grabbing it by a dry spot. You are relieved to get away from him, draping it over the porch and swallowing gulps of fresh air before you go back inside, praying he's gone back to bed.

Luckily, he has. When the empty living room greets you, you sink to the sofa and palm your eyes. Then, you notice something left on the pillow. A cigarette. You pick it up and recall the few times you smoked whenever your friends offered one. The taste never sat well with you. 

You rummage for your lighter. The first inhale burns terribly, but you cough into the pillow and try again. It starts to calm you down after a few times, and only when you've gotten to the butt of it do you go back to sleep.

"No wonder you're not getting stronger if you throw up like that every night."

Not even five minutes into training the next morning he brings it up. The rest of your sleep ended abruptly when he got you up at an unearthly time, probably to avoid having Blue as an audience. You are too winded to even scowl, your fists held tight in front of your face as you try to predict where he will aim next.

"I told you. That was the first night in a while." 

"Right. Something about a box, huh?"

"Can we just forget about it, please?"

"Hard to forget when my shirt still smells."

"I washed it the best I could."

The next dodge has your head flying down fast enough to undo one of your braids. Hair slips over your face and you huff, holding your hand up. "Hold on. Give me a minute."

As you undo the other one and opt for shoving your hair into a tight bun instead, he watches you strangely. The feel of his stare ignites a spark of irritation and you flash him a sideways glance. "Look, thank you for the cigarette and everything else you have ever done for me, but you can stop looking at me like that. Like you... pity me. I'm not going to break, I'm not going to ask you to kill me again. Everyone left in this world has nightmares and mine probably aren't the worst of them."

"I don't pity you," he says. "I am just trying to understand you."

"Why?" You finish the bun and drop your arms awkwardly at your sides. 

"It's important to understand your ally."

"Oh. Is that what we are?"

His eyes narrow. "Obviously. I wouldn't bother wasting my time with this every day if we weren't."

"Good to know you aren't doing it because you owe me."

"You know what I mean, Twix," he growls. 

"No, I don't." You throw your arms up. "I don't know what you mean and I don't know why you never killed me because you had every reason to, and I definitely don't understand you, so I guess we make terrible allies, Ghost."

"What is with you?" He cocks his head to the side, tone mild with curiosity. "So talkative all of the sudden."

"I have no problem talking when the other person isn't blatantly ignoring me."

His brows lift. "Fair enough."

A deep inhale flares your nostrils before you spread your stance. "I'm ready now."

Despite your claim of readiness, he quickly backs you into a defensive position that has you frustrated once again. You don't understand why, but your progress slips. You keep having to adjust your stance and all of your attempts to hit him fail. It's not long before he locks you against a tree with a tattooed forearm against your neck. 

"You aren't focused today," he accuses.

"Damn, you're observant," you breathe out. 

"Jesus fucking Christ. If I wanted to listen to someone mouthing off, I'd get Blue out here." He presses a bit harder and your throat twitches. "I'm not going to threaten you anymore, but clearly, you think straighter when you channel your anger, so whatever you were dreaming about last night— get it out of your head."

He's right. You breathe deep and try sorting through everything in your head, focusing on just the anger, but it's like fishing in murky water. When he releases you, more of the same happens. This time, you end up on your butt. Ghost glares down at you, circling like a vulture.

"You were doing good the past few days. What the hell is this?"

"I told you," you say through your teeth, brushing off the dirt from your jeans. "Letting out my anger means letting everything else in the box out and it is... confusing me. Making my head fuzzy, I guess."

His chest expands with a deep breath and his pointed stare turns meticulous. "Explain this box to me."

You hesitate for a moment. "It's just... where I put away all of the shit that would otherwise make me insane."

"And what is wrong with being a little insane, Twix? This world is insane. Might as well match it."

Your mouth opens, then closes. You struggle for an answer and rub your temples. "I don't know. Being insane means losing myself completely. I mean, I have already changed so much in the past five years. Like I said, I was never meant to be this person."

"What person? A person who survives? A person who does what she has to?"

"A person who hurts others," you grit out. "A person who kills." 

"You've killed people, right?" he roughly asks and you nod. "Then you're a killer. You were always meant to be a killer. End of story." His words strike you, and you begin to shake your head defensively, but he continues before you can muster a reply. "The past five years haven't changed you, they have revealed who you are. Now—" he raises his fists, "—open the stupid box and turn everything you feel into anger. All of it. It is valuable fuel that will continue to keep you alive."

He swings.

A kaleidoscope of long-ignored memories flashes through your brain when he hits your sore stomach. Your family. Your friends. The life stolen from you. 

And then— you recover your footing and slam a boot into his knee. It loosens his stance just enough for you to throw yourself at him, effectively knocking him over. The ground welcomes your bodies again, but this time, you grip his shoulders and wind up on top, practically laying all of your weight on him. A few harsh breaths expel from your nose before you become fully aware of the position, the heat from his chest pressing into your breasts.

Quickly, you splay your hands flat against him and sit up straight, thighs spread over his narrow hips. Ghost could easily flip you over and pin you if he wanted. But instead, he crosses his arms behind his head. 

"Comfortable?" you ask him breathlessly, raising a brow.

"Quite. Though, if this were real, I suggest an elbow to the neck once you've got them down."

"So you admit it, then. I got you down."

"I allowed it."

"Sure." Your teeth snag on your lip and you lightly brush a finger over his masked nose, detecting a tick in the hinge of his jaw. "Then I will 'allow' you to keep this for now, but next time, I might do more than just break it."

His eyes widen imperceptibly before he quickly recovers. "Ah. So you are a person who hurts others, then. Someone was trying to tell me otherwise."

Your lips twitch at the corner on their own accord. "Shut the fuck up."

He simply stares at you for a pregnant pause before clearing his throat. "I did allow it, but that was good. You focused on the anger, didn't you?"

You nod. "Yeah, I did. Is that what you do all the time?" you ask curiously. "Just get angry and kill people?"

"Pretty much."

By the tone of his voice, a deep brass that reverberates through all the places your bodies touch, you are certain he's joking. Realizing that you are still on top of him, you push off his chest and swing a leg over, careful not to knee his face or let him see the deep flush that crawls over every inch of your skin. 

[beansprean]

AND THAT'S A WRAP ON WWDITS FILMING...[wails loudly]

I hope these actors know how much they have done for me, specifically. And how many times I have drawn their dumb faces dkjfhk.

Please consider donating to Medical Aid for Palestine! It's what Kayvan would want. :) 🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉🍉

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Waist up of Guillermo and Harvey Guillén on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Harvey!' Harvey's skin is slightly tanner than Guillermo's, his hair is sun-bleached and curling freely over his forehead, and he is wearing a blue knit crop top and denim overalls. He is hugging Guillermo from behind with his chin on his shoulder, grinning up at the viewer. Guillermo, wearing a white shirt and brown patterned cardigan, is cupping Harvey's hands with his own over his chest and looking at him with a fond smile, cheeks pressed together.

2. Waist up of Nandor and Kayvan Novak on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Kayvan!' Kayvan's skin is a rich brown against Nandor's vampire pallor and his half-up hair and slightly longer beard are graying; he is wearing a dangly gold earring in his left ear and is wearing a lime green button up tee with a red watermelon pattern. He has picked Nandor up in a hug with his arms wrapped around his waist. Nandor, wearing a long brown kaftan under a orange diamond-patterned coat with short furred sleeves, has his right hand braced on Kayvan's shoulder and the other wrapped around his back. They are both grinning widely and looking at the viewer.

3. Waist up of Nadja, Nadja doll, and Natasia Demetriou on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Natasia!' Natasia is lightly tanned and has chest wavy length hair with bangs, dark brown at the roots with honey brown and blonde highlights throughout. She is wearing a periwinkle skirt and bandeau top with an outer layer of translucent chiffon in the same color, along with poofy off-shoulder chiffon sleeves, several rings, and a thin chain necklace with her name on it. Nadja and Dolly are matching in dark blue v neck gowns with a gold pattern and front buttons, their hair half up in twin horns. Nadja is grinning at the viewer, fangs out, and leaning heavily into Natasia's side, pressing their shoulders together. Dolly sits on their shared shoulder space, perched directly between their heads with her arms around them, smiling up at the viewer. Nadja's right arm is up under Dolly to support her legs. Natasia's right arm is bent upward like one might do to support a perching bird and her left is palming Dolly's knees to keep her in place. She is smiling over at the Nadjas, half bent over from their weight leaning on her.

4. Waist up of Laszlo and Matt Berry on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Matt!' Matt is pale (but clearly more alive than Laszlo), with wavy shoulder length hair streaked with gray and a graying beard that has been allowed to grow a bit further past his chin. He is wearing a plain white tee shirt, denim jacket, and silver chain necklace. Laszlo is wearing a red button up dashingly open at the collar under a dark blue waistcoat and lighter blue jacket with a darker damask pattern. They are standing mirrored, back-to-back with their arms crossed and shoulders pressed together, looking back over their shoulders at each other. Matt smiles at his character lazily while Laszlo offers him a mildly salacious smirk.

5. Waist up of Colin Robinson and Mark Proksch on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Mark!' Mark is standing facing the viewer with squared shoulders, wearing a blue and white plaid shirt with a chest pocket, only the top button undone. Were it not for the color and a slight shape change to his glasses, you wouldn't be able to tell him from his character. Colin is standing directly behind and to the right of him, wearing a brown v neck sweater over a beige collar and dull red tie. His head is tipped back and his mouth is open in a wide grin, eyes glowing bright blue behind his glasses. Mark glances at him from the corner of his eye with a slightly amused smirk.

6. Waist up of the Guide and Kristen Schaal on a white background with small yellow polka dots. Cursive red and gold script in the top left corner says 'Thank you, Kristen!' Kristen is pale in a human way with chin length curly brown hair and is wearing a loose empire waist black tank top under a translucent yellow chiffon top with a frilled neckline and elbow length balloon sleeves. The Guide is smiling open-mouthed at Kristen and wearing her usual black square cap, jacket, skirt, and gloves. They are back to back, elbows linked together to keep each other close, with Kristen leaning backward into the Guide so she stoops forward slightly. Kristen's far hand flashes a peace sign as she grins over at the Guide, tongue between her teeth. /end ID

[steveharringtonat3am]

Rhythmic romance | drummer!steve harrington x reader | 18+

summary: Robin's drummer friend is hot. What else were you supposed to do? [1.8k]

warnings: SMUT 18+, mentions of alcohol, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, mentions of birth control

✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩

You did not want to be at a bar right now. You couldn’t wait to get home, get into bed, and crochet with a sitcom playing in the background until you eventually fell asleep. But it was your best friends’ birthday, so you sucked it up. She insisted on coming to see this band in the sketchiest dive bar you had ever stepped foot in. It was way too crowded and you regret not throwing her a party in your apartment. But from what you can hear, the music is pretty good.

“Here!” Robin hands you a glass of club soda. Being the designated driver was normally fine with you but the pounding music makes you envy her cosmopolitan. She begins pulling you closer to the band and you try to pretend your eardrums aren’t about to burst.

“It’s good!” You nod at her when she looks for your approval. She had mentioned something about knowing the lead singer and the drummer. How? You couldn’t remember the details as they hit a high note louder than you thought possible.

‘Corroded Coffin’ is etched on the front of the drums. It’s actually a pretty cool name. You’re about to ask Robin about it when your eyes drift further and your jaw nearly drops.

Holy shit, the drummer is hot.

So hot, you almost can’t think for a second. He’s sweating from the lights, tanned skin and muscle showing through his white t-shirt that’s almost translucent from the sweat. His gorgeous brown hair is all over the place as he tosses his head back to get some out of his eyes. He’s focused on the beat as his tongue pokes out of his mouth ever so slightly.

You could kill Robin for hiding him from you.

The set feels like it takes forever. Halfway through, Robin tugs you over to a booth where the volume has slightly decreased.

“You said you know the drummer?” You try not to be obvious but she sees right through you.

“You like him, don’t you? He’s a loser you know that right? Like a major loser.” She exaggerates in an obvious way that makes you smile.

“You should have seen this coming. He’s exactly my type.” You grin as you sip your drink and she sighs.

“I know but I hoped you would have higher standards.”

“You do realize he’s your friend right?” That is already a green flag in your mind. No way Robin would be friends with a douche so at the very least he’s nice.

“…Alright fine. Honestly, you two would probably get along well.” She shrugs. Before you can ask much about him though, your eyes lock with his.

“Hey, Rob!” The one with long dark hair greets her as you and the drummer simply look at each other. He’s even prettier up close and you really wanna reach over and fix his hair.

“Hi, Eddie! Hi doofus.” She pushes the drummer on the shoulder and he turns to smile at her.

“Hi, Robin. Did you like the set?” He asks as you pretend your drink is incredibly fascinating.

“Yeah! We both liked it.” She introduces you quickly, putting the name Steve to the face. He reaches out to shake your hand. The contact sends a shiver down your spine but luckily he doesn’t notice. They each slide into the booth, Steve next to you and Eddie next to Robin. You try not to focus too much on his thigh pressed against yours but the warmth of him mixed with his intoxicating cologne is almost too much for you.

The more you get to know Eddie and Steve, the more you understand why Robin was friends with them. Eddie was so funny and nice. Steve was perfect. Kind, has a good sense of humour and is just incredible.

It also helped that he had his hand on your bare thigh.

He had been laughing at something you said, pushing his hair back before letting his hand fall onto your skin, and rubbing it with his thumb. He doesn’t look at you as he does but you swear his smile grows when you tense a bit next to him.

When you feel like you can’t breathe anymore, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. Steve stands to let you out, eyes running over you as you walk past him.

The hallways leading to the bathrooms feel like a different, quieter world so you take a moment to yourself. You liked Steve. But you didn’t even know how he felt about you. And you didn’t want this to be some one-night hookup.

“Hey.” As if you summoned him, Steve is walking up to you. He stops in front of where you’re leaning against the wall, caging you in.

“Hi.” You smile at him and he leans in close. Maybe he’s doing it to hear you better but you like to think it’s just to get closer to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just needed a break from all that, you know?” You fiddle with the hem of your skirt as he nods.

“Course. Though, I gotta say I liked having such a pretty face watching me play. Should come to more shows.” You can’t tell who’s moving, but he’s closer than he was before.

“You gonna give me a reason to?” The teasing smile sends him over the edge as he presses his lips against yours. You melt into it as he steps closer to press you against the wall. His hand cradles the back of your head as the kiss gets sloppier.

“C’mere.” He breaks the kiss for a second to tug you into the unisex bathroom, locking the door and immediately pressing you against it. You grin into the kiss as your fingers slip through his curly brown locks.

“Gonna let me fuck you in this bar? That desperate for me?” He teases in a way that soaks your panties more than you thought possible.

“L-like you don’t want it just as bad.” You pant, already chasing his lips again. He tugs you over to the sink and pushes you up so you’re sitting on the counter. He’s impossibly close now as your skirt rides up. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh but you’re too focused on his wandering hands, going from your hips to your sides to your ass.

The moan that slips out when he squeezes the flesh would be embarrassing if you weren’t so desperate for him. His hands slip to your thighs, rubbing up and down. His fingers brush the edges of the lace and he pulls away from your sloppy makeout to look into your eyes.

“Can I take these off?” His eyes are even prettier clouded with lust. You nod quickly in response and he wastes no time, sliding the fabric down your thighs and pushing it into his pocket. Your comment on that is stifled as he kisses your inner thigh. You spread your legs wider for him and try to ignore the feel of his smirk as his tongue runs up and down your slit.

“Come on Steve!” You whine as you tug his hair. He moans at the feeling and the vibration makes you squirm. Luckily, his grip is iron, so you don’t fall. He continues to lap at you and your orgasm starts to build. Unluckily, this is where he chooses to pull away and stand.

“N-no come on I was close!” You pout at his Cheshire grin.

“I know sweetheart but I need to fuck you. That alright with you?” One look at the bulge in his pants tells you all you need to know.

“Absolutely.” You tug at his belt, undoing it as quickly as possible. He helps with his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. His hard cock springs free to slap his stomach and your eyes nearly fall out of your head.

Gods, he’s huge.

“Condom or no?”

“I’m on the pill and…you seem clean.” You can’t think straight at this point. Your pussy aches for him to fuck you.

“I am. M’not gonna say no to fucking you raw. God you look hot.” You could orgasm right there but then he’s stepping closer and pressing his fat tip into you.

“Holy-” You grab onto his arm, pressing your face into his shoulder as he sinks in deeper. He hums in acknowledgement, easing in nice and slow.

By the time he’s balls deep, you might be seeing stars but you’d happily die in this moment.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He mumbles into your ear with a tenderness you don’t expect from a bar fuck. But you suppose Steve wasn’t just any bar fuck.

“Y-yeah. You can move.” You’re pressed together so tight you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

As he starts to fuck you, you press a fist into your mouth to avoid moaning too loud. He quickly ups his pace, pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow. The sound of skin slapping is sinful but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Holy shit Steve just like that!” You moan into him, holding onto his arms for dear life. He’s making such pretty noises.

“Feel so-fuck-so good sweetheart.” He presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, moaning when you clench around him. Both your mouths and chins are covered in saliva but as his thumb runs over your clit, all thoughts go out the window.

“G-god I’m so close Steve.” You’re so close to the edge that it hurts.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He slams into you one more time and you’re seeing stars as pleasure overtakes you. It’s enough to make him cum too, pulling out to paint your thighs with his cum.

You both pant in silence for a second, your head resting against his chest. When you’ve both caught your breath you manage to look at him. He looks as if he’s just come off stage, only less sweaty. You can’t imagine you look any better but the look in his eyes almost convinces you otherwise.

“I-I’ll go out first.” He offers hands quickly fixing your hair into place before stepping away to help you down. Your legs are wobbly but you manage.

“Steve wh-” He cuts you off with a sweet kiss, with none of the lust from before but just as much passion.

“I’ll take you on a proper date soon okay? I promise.” He kisses your cheek once more before slipping out the door. You rest against the cold porcelain as you mull over what just happened.

You’re gonna have to get Robin one hell of a birthday gift.

[boundinparchment]

STILL WATERS RUN DEEP - PART I

“You must never look upon his face,” the Dreammaster implored. “For he has looked upon Xipe’s true form. Trust in the Harmony to reveal order upon your union and on Penacony.” No one has ever looked upon the face of the head of the Oak Family. Not even you, his future wife. A promise must be kept. But you were never one to settle. [An attempt at a (loose) Eros and Psyche re-telling in three parts. Will converge with canon. Current wordcount: 5,381 Can be found on AO3 here. Rating is Explicit; MINORS DNI] Reblogs, comments, and kudos appreciated.

You met your husband precisely once before your wedding.

It was an otherwise rather uneventful day in the Dreamscape, one you spent weaving promise after promise, shifting a pathway here, pushing a set of stairs elsewhere.  Dawn always lurked over your shoulder as you pushed the edges of unknown memoria away and carved out something new.  You were good at it, a quick study.

But such was expected of you.  You came from a long lineage within the Nightingale Family and your parents did everything in their power to ensure you knew how to manipulate the Dreamscape as soon as you learned to walk.  You were a Level V on the Scale Degree and your peers considered you doomed; you were far too successful a Dreamweaver to remain among them forever and you would never be properly satisfied by those around you.  Some whispered daggers behind your back that you were nothing but leverage to your family, the subsidiary all but slaughtered into compliance when they did not agree to Gopher Wood’s offer.

After all, plenty of other branches tried and failed to make a connection, court you.  None met whatever arbitrary standards were set.

And as you stepped into Dewlight Pavilion, still dressed in your neat suit and finding your bearings after standing upside-down for several hours adjusting window frames, you finally understood why .

Your parents were already seated across from a figure you instantly knew as the Oak Family head, with a purple raven perched on the back of his sofa.  The young man’s face was entirely hidden by a beautiful veil the color of a starless night; it hung from his halo by an extra ring that moved only enough to allow access to his mouth as needed.

The fabric must have been translucent enough for him to see through, for he moved without issue, and always focused his attention right where it needed to be.  You could not make out the shape of his features.

Was he ugly, hideously deformed?  Did he lack a face entirely?  Rumors swirled about the Oak Family’s recent change due to Gopher Wood’s sacrifice that left him with only a metaphysical attachment to the world.  No one knew what Sunday of the Oak Family looked like, except for his hair and wing color.  His sister, Robin, once kept her visage a secret, too.  However, she renounced her official position as Chordmaster when she began her career as an interstellar singer; many speculated whether she and Sunday had the same eyes.  In fact, last you heard, there was good money in such debates.

The raven, you surmised, was Wood himself.  The one and only Dreammaster.  He spoke politely but it was Sunday who did most of the praise and admiration of your work, noting your potential for higher ranks, and your dedication to Xipe. After confirming your candidacy, Wood suggested leaving the two of you to speak privately, guiding your parents out towards the foyer lined with statues.  They were too enamored at the prospect of being with the Oak Family privately to care.

Around you, the silence seemed to only grow more deafening.   A knot formed in your sinking stomach as you realized this was not just a moment of recognition and appreciation.

As if sensing your unease, Sunday reached up and adjusted the contraption attached to his halo, revealing his lips and jaw to you.  You had never noticed the little bow in his upper lip before.  PIctures and videos of him speaking with his mouth showing never quite captured that detail.  His wings did not relax as much as they gave the appearance they were.

Neither of you expected this.

“I am glad for the progress at Dream’s Edge, and that it’s been stable thus far,” Sunday said, his voice soft.  “The Grand Theater’s renovations mean we must rely on other ways of providing new areas of the Dream to our visitors.  The amount of resources necessary, cognitively and otherwise, are not lost on me.”

Better to be scaling rooftops and shifting buildings than in a Dream Factory.  Nightingale and Iris members were relied upon for the structure and the small details of Penacony’s culture and arts, respectively.  So many of your coworkers began their career in the Factories and it showed, their imaginations simultaneously rigid and methodical and yet so uninspired.

“It is work I do gladly, sir,” you replied.  “But that’s not why I’m here, is it?”

Sunday conceded with a small chuckle and a nod, his smile easing a little as his wings shifted near the edge of his veil, attentive.  

“No, it is not.  Please, walk with me.”

He gestured to the rest of the grand hall, insignias of the five Branches emblazoned on the walls.  You descended without much thought earlier, wishing only to get this meeting over with, but now it was impossible to ignore just how the light trickled through, brilliant and well-positioned to highlight everything.  You rose and followed Sunday away from the sitting area and approached a model replica of Penacony.  At a glance, you guessed most of it was roughly eight hundred times smaller than the real Dreamscape, for it didn’t look all that dissimilar from the models used in planning committees and project teams.

You walked the perimeter of the sand pit model at a slow amble.

“I will be candid and admit the Dreammaster’s abrupt departure was not expected.  And judging from your general demeanor, you are unaware of your parents’ petition to put forward your hand for consideration as a marriage candidate.”

The idea of an arranged marriage was familiar, another expectation you balanced with everything else.  You had little time for love and romance on your own outside of the various suitors who dared come knocking.  But the startling realization that no one was good enough because no one else was the Bronze Melodia, Head of the Oak Family, the highest position one could achieve beneath the Dreammaster himself, felt like a slap in the face you should have seen coming from a mile away.

Surely, the distant relatives of the Nightingale Branch were rolling in their graves.  A great betrayal of all they fought and died for.

You brushed your fingers against the edge of the sandpit to ground yourself.  The room spun a little and you were more shocked that you were, in fact, surprised to begin with.  You were almost into your third decade by now; anyone else in your position would have been left to their work or pushed to settle as dreams collapsed.

“Forgive me for putting you in an awkward position,” you said.

Sunday held up a hand, palm facing you for the briefest of moments.  

“Actually, your lack of awareness of the matter is quite refreshing.  You are modest regarding your skills and achievements but it is a mark of true humility, not one burying themselves in an attempt to hide eagerness.  I do not want a spouse, my equal in all things, who seeks to put themselves above the Harmony in such a way.  You know what you are capable of and you have found your niche within the Family to put it to good use.”

Warmth crept up your neck and settled in your cheeks.  Most found it uncanny to talk to someone who kept their face and expressions hidden.  For you, it was no different than a mere voice call, where you could not see the other party.  He asked not about your other talents but about you and for lack of a better approach, you told a story from your childhood that made his laugh ring off of the walls, full and genuine, melodic in its joy. 

Your heart sang.

Sunday spoke again as you took what was likely your fifth turn around the table.  Maybe sixth.  Time in the Dream was difficult to gauge when you were not keeping your hands busy.

“It is important to me that my wife is capable of bearing the burden of the Oak Family.  We are shepherds in service of Xipe and the Dreammaster.  As the Bronze Melodia, it is my duty to listen and to guide.  I believe you are more than perfectly suited to the role and I…well, it has been a long time since I laughed wholeheartedly.”

He stopped, pausing in his musings to look entirely at the model.  You approximated where his eyeline might be but you had no idea what his focus truly was.  Hands behind his back, he was the picture of perfection that you knew too well.

“But how would you remain dedicated to the wellbeing of all of the souls under the Family’s care?” he asked.

A question no one ever posed to you before.  You had no way to gauge whether this was asked because you’d been doing well.  Regardless, you felt the room grow colder.  So many considered Sunday to merely be Wood’s mouthpiece rather than an individual in his own right.  Such ideations of the head of the Family were not further from the truth; even without seeing his full expression, his earnestness rolled off of him in waves and it was clear enough to you that he held his own ideals separate from those of his adopted father.

You felt a soft haziness, the kind that came with the sun on a warm spring day and what you were always enveloped in when Xipe watched over you.  Trust in the Harmony.

“Truthfully, I don’t have an answer that would not come off as contrived or as though I’m trying too hard,” you admitted.  “I can only say that I have dutifully served the Family with the hopes that I can pass on the generosity and kindness shown to me by my parents.  Xipe’s blessing is one full of grace and a sense of belonging.  I want others to know what it means to be loved and to belong.” You gestured with a wide arm to the sandpit. “That’s why I weave the Dreamscape.”

Sunday was quiet, your only indication that he heard you a series of slow nods.

“Then we are of the same mind.  I want the union I choose to reflect happiness in service to Xipe.”  Sunday turned to you, head first and then his body, giving you his full attention.  “And I think in time, we could make one another happy.”

Something loosened deep inside your chest as your hands trembled.  You smoothed your pants, attempting to ease the nerves that were suddenly very prevalent.  So many others were better equipped for the public presence such a union was expected to have.  Numerous women were undoubtedly more pious and selfless, wholeheartedly proselytizing that the Harmony was the way to salvation.

And yet…

The choice was yours.  Sunday was well within his right to leverage his position, convince you and assuage whatever dark clouds lingered.  Others might have.  

You would have been quite a fool to decline, of course.  And your parents would never forgive you for shattering their dreams.  All of your hard work, and for what?  Most wouldn’t have found it romantic in the slightest but it was practical, deliberate.  And that was a great deal better than fanciful ideas about a grand love like they showed in the cinemas.

 “I would be honored,” you replied, fighting the tiny quakes making their way up your arms.

Sunday extended his gloved hand, a silent request.  You placed your hand in his and you felt yourself grow warm from the touch.  You felt warmer still when soft lips met your knuckles and your lips tingled, stronger now with a faint itch inside your skull.  His halo gave off the slightest of auras.  You made a note to look further into Halovians and their qualities, for you wanted to be able to reciprocate.

The smile gracing his lips was like the rising sun, fresh and full of promise.

“As would I.  Xipe has blessed you with the qualities I wish to see continue on.  Together, we can balance the scales.”

Your wedding was a private affair, attended only by heads of the Five and their immediate families and leadership.  The Grand Theater would have been used for such an event but the Eventide achieved the same effect.  Most were enamored by the Blue Hour, where the Radiant Feldspar floated in the distance in the Sea of Dreams.

Your bridal party consisted only of Robin, who somehow managed to balance your comfort with her brother’s eye for detail in a way that sent a pang through you.  Siblings always had one another, even across systems and galaxies, across different life choices.  Something you never experienced except through the Harmony, through the partnerships and reciprocity of those around you.  Even then, you knew the sentiment to be different.

She never made you feel it, though.  For such a successful artist, an idol , she was incredibly in tune with the needs of others.  

“There’s one thing you need to be aware of with my brother,” Robin said, practiced hands opening a pin and pushing it into your hair as you held your veil in place.  “And it’s that he always takes on the responsibility around him.  It’s a reflex.  Whatever his reasoning behind this life change, please take care of him.  He needs a friend outside of Oak leadership.”

Robin finished fixing your veil and draped the front over your face.  It was nothing like Sunday’s, your face still partially visible through the mesh.  She gently brushed your skirt full of Charmony Dove feathers when you stood, nerves finally getting the better of you.

A knock on the door to your bridal suite startled you.  Robin’s security would have already cleared the visitor but the singer’s shoulders dropped a little upon the discovery of Gopher Wood himself, inhabiting the body of another.

“There is something important I must discuss with your brother’s betrothed,” he said, tone gentle.  “Would you please go check on him in the meantime, Robin?”

She hesitated a fraction of a second longer than you were used to from anyone else in his presence.  Everyone was quick to comply with the Dreammaster, one of the only surviving members who recalled the early days of Penacony’s founding.  Wordlessly, Robin took your hand, squeezed, and then left the dressing room.  The click of the door echoed in the depths of your mind.  

Through your own veil, you watched as Wood took a seat where Robin once perched.  He always unnerved you in a way you could not quite place.  Whatever happened to him that caused him to lose his corporeal form, it made your skin crawl.  It was difficult to feel at ease when you always felt like you were being watched.

You dared not let your voice betray you, ironing out every waver you could.  “Has something happened, Dreammaster?”

The smile you saw should have put you at ease but it only served to prod you, a shiver sitting at the bottom of your spine and never crawling.  Surely this wasn’t going to be some discussion regarding the wedding night?  Or the possibility that you were no longer going to be walking down the aisle?  Had you said something during confessionals that was thought to be unbefitting?  You swallowed and tried not to lick your lips so you didn’t mar Robin’s hard work.

“There is a condition that you must abide by from today forward, dear Dreamweaver.  It is imperative and you must understand that although you are to be Sunday’s wife , not even you are privy to them.”  He continued before you could ask, imploring you.  “You must never look upon his face, for he has gazed upon Xipe’s true form.  Trust in the Harmony to reveal order upon your union and on Penacony.”

You were thankful for your face covering but it did little hide you from one as in tune with the Harmony as Gopher Wood.  He sensed it, your desire to question, and he chuckled.

“My son carries a heavy burden but I chose him as my successor because he intrinsically understands THEIR will.  Betray this condition and the consequences will not just be yours to bear.  The future of Penacony relies on this balance and it must not be upended; I will know if it is.  Am I clear, Dreamweaver?”

The words were spoken with such gentleness that they almost passed for little more than a lecture.  It didn’t feel right, not because you sought entitlement to Sunday as a spouse, but because it did not quite make sense.  When has Xipe ever desired to encourage that kind of separation?  Other than Sunday, no other Family Head hid their face.  Then again, no others were in charge of all of the Branches, either.  But what else was there to say?  What other choice was there?

You would discuss this with Sunday directly, you decided.  Direct communication was often the best solution in private affairs.

“Of course.  I will honor these wishes, Dreammaster.”

He left with little more than Xipe’s blessing upon you; his words circled like carrion birds in your head all the way down the aisle.

Leaving the Asdana System, or even Penacony itself, was out of the question for a honeymoon.  You hadn’t actually anticipated one but how else were you going to truly have time alone together as a married couple?  Even after the few belongings you did have were moved into Dewlight Pavilion, the schedules of a Family Head did not just stop on a dime.  Work always continued for him.  But would it for you?  Could it?

Your hands idly went to your necklace, tugging the charm this way and that down the chain as you gazed out of the window, little more than stars to light the way.  The Moment of Midnight was an interesting Hour to be in for what was meant to be, well, romantic .  Here, the lights were kept low, if not entirely off, and you had to rely on your other senses to get an idea of your environment.  Wood’s words took on a whole new meaning.

A great many things needed to be ironed out while the two of you were alone, away from the eyes of the press and the ears of those with knives behind their backs.  

So far, things went well.  The ceremony and reception were exactly what you were prepared for.  Your hands were fastened during vows, rings exchanged over gloved fingers, and the kiss was gentle and chaste.  

Your first dance was not as awkward as you’d expected it to be.  You’d practiced, of course, but not with Sunday, for he’d been far too busy.  All you recalled was the warmth of Sunday’s arm beneath your hands as you greeted guests, their visages nothing but a blur despite your best attempts to match names to faces.  You knew of a great many of these individuals already, as most of the Family did, but meeting them in-person was a different matter.

Sunday was attentive, mindful that your water was never empty and that you had your fill of each course; you paid him the same respect in turn.  It was easy to, you found.  Perhaps Robin was wrong.

He ate only a single bite of your shared slice of cake, lips wrapping around your fork as you customarily fed one another.  When you asked if he disliked it, he shook his head.  His mouth was visible for most of the night and not just through meals; you wondered if that was for your benefit, given you were unaccustomed to a lack of visual cues.

“I quite enjoy it but it brings me greater satisfaction for others to partake,” he explained.

Your reply was instant.  “You only get one wedding cake though.”

“And it makes me happier to see your eyes light up than indulge myself.  Those are the memories I’ll have and that is enough for me.”

Sunday had taken your left hand and you could just barely feel the warmth of his skin through both your gloves and his.  You did your best to control your facial expression, burying your disappointment.  This was his wedding, too, why shouldn’t he enjoy what had been so carefully planned for both of you?

Hours later, here you stood, the afternoon and evening washed away and dressed in the white silk and lace laid out by an Intellitron maid.  The selection was tasteful but left the material’s intention unmistakable.  The air here was cool, soothing, and made the silk feel as if it was melting into your skin and accentuating every curve.  Your skin was sensitive, goose bumps dotting your arms and your nipples hardening from the chill.  Soft footsteps made their way over to you and in the faint light coming in from the stars outside, you only barely made out the vague shape of your husband behind you.  His veil shimmered slightly.  He had not yet changed for bed but abandoned his jacket, tie, and waistcoat.

His sleeves were neatly rolled up and your mouth grew dry at the sight of his exposed forearms.  Hardly a man who did any kind of manual labor but you found yourself curious about tracing your fingers up and down a particularly prominent vein.  Were you even able to touch him?

“We don’t have to do this.”  His voice was barely more than a whisper.  “It doesn’t have to be tonight.  Today was eventful enough.”

“It’s inevitable,” you replied, feeling a shiver run through you.  “There’s little harm in trying.”

You turned to face him, tentatively reaching out to rest your hands on his chest in the darkened room.  Although your eyes adjusted, your sense of spatial awareness was off.  When you didn’t quite make the mark, he stepped forward, his gloved hands guiding yours.  Sunday brought your hands higher, over the collar of his shirt and your fingers skimmed the hem of the veil, stopping right at his jaw.

“You were warned, were you not?” he asked, voice tight.

“The Dreammaster forbid me from seeing your face.”

“He was right to.  Your hands will go no higher, for one’s touch is just vision in a different form.”

“And what of a kiss?  Am I allowed that?” the question poured from your lips, a mix of insatiable curiosity and a demand to know the boundaries.  “Or am I left with only the seal of our union?  I want to know you, Sunday, even if I can never gaze on your face.  I cannot fulfill the role expected of me without knowledge.”

“Your dedication means a great deal.  Compromises can be reached, within reason, dear wife.”

Sunday moved your hand to trace his lips, soft and supple, breath hot on the pads of your fingers.  You felt the heat creep up with your arm and crawl into your chest, your own breath catching.  The silken nightgown suddenly felt much colder against the rising flush of your skin.  Slowly, he pressed his lips to your fingers and then your palm, turning your hand over to brush his lips against your knuckles.  With your other hand, you brushed your middle finger against the curve of his jaw, beneath his ear, mindful of the wing joint.

His hands fell to encircle your waist.  You stepped closer, not daring to close the distance entirely, but enticed by the heat radiating from him.  Sunday’s lips followed the path of your arm, ghosting across your skin, until he reached the curve of your shoulder.  His veil was firmly in place, its hem teasing you with every kiss.

“Is this to your satisfaction?” He punctuated his question with your name and you shivered.

You nodded before you swallowed, tongue heavy in your mouth.  “Almost.”

An unspoken question hung in the air but before Sunday could voice it, you brushed your nose against the fabric and captured his lips with yours.  You felt him freeze, your free hand feeling the muscles cord in his neck as his wings tensed, curling inward.  Your pulse rushed in your ears as you pulled away slightly, fighting the urge to deepen the kiss.  Had you gone too far?

He didn’t move but the skin of his neck was scorching.  Daringly, you closed the distance between your bodies, breasts pressed against him and hips touching.  Something hard prodded against you.  Sunday’s breath hitched, a gasp stolen right from his lungs.  

You’d never shared yourself with anyone but the mechanics were ingrained in your mind from years of education.  There had been little point to exploring it when other priorities were necessary.  He was enjoying this and you pretended not to feel the tiny thrusts against you, as though he was hoping a little friction would alleviate his own need.

“Like I said, I want to know you,” you repeated.  “ All of you.  Or almost all of you.  If you’ll have me.”

You felt his wings flutter, one of them curling to cup his own cheek, the feathers brushing your fingers.

“I…forgive me, I have never…”

“Neither have I.  We can figure it out together.”

Tentatively, you leaned forward and kissed him again, full of reassurance.  You trailed your hands back towards him, searching for spots that made him sigh and relax.  When you neared his wing joint, he gave a choking moan that sent a twitch through your core.  Trembling, you extended your fingers to stroke the wing bone and the hold on your waist tightened.  

The tops of your thighs were damp, an ache sitting between them that throbbed in time with your pulse as both of you explored, shifting to eventually tangle yourselves into the sheets of the waiting bed.  Touching became a process to map out one another’s bodies, finding dips and divets and curves as you undressed.  He was methodical but you didn’t mind.  This was a learning moment for you both.

You discovered that touching Sunday’s wings made him shiver, but that he instantly stiffened if you brushed his feathers; he’d pulled your hands away, mumbling pleas more to himself than to you.  He memorized the shape of your spine against his fingers and traced circles around your hardened nipples, kissing and sucking through the silken fabric until you hiked the nightgown up to encourage him to feel you, skin on skin.  His fingers grazed your folds and in turn, you took his shaft in your hand, his tip already leaking; he settled between your legs, uttering prayers into the curve of your neck, his veil cool against your burning skin.

Sunday inhaled sharply as you bucked your hips, obscene wet sounds filling the silence he left behind.  At least this was better than the alternative, you thought.  Your body’s cooperation and eagerness made it a little easier to push aside the dissonance at the notion that the man above you was both your husband and almost a complete stranger.

He started slow, for his benefit and for yours, you realized.  You’d felt him in your hand but without a comparison, without experience, you had no frame of reference.  He was bigger than you anticipated, stretching you slowly.  Your eagerness helped, of course.  Once buried, he stilled for a moment, allowing both of you to catch your breath and collect your thoughts.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, shifting slightly to hold himself up further.  “We can stop if you…”

The initial sting already ebbed away and you reached to rest your hand over his heart.

“I’m okay.  We can keep going.  I’d like to,” you replied.

Sunday’s rhythm was slow, his strokes long and gentle.  It reminded you of a song, soft and flowing, and briefly, you wondered if one day, you’d be able to resonate with the Harmony, and with him.  Properly, the way you’d heard Halovians could with one another.

Deep inside you, you felt a tug like a string being wound on a spool, amid a low-burning fire churning.  It felt as if you were floating among the stars themselves and you clung to Sunday, unsure of what your body needed but knowing he could provide—

He leaned down again, nestling his covered face in the curve of your neck as his movements became more erratic, hips almost snapping in their fervor.  Both of you were breathless, and the edges of your vision began to go white just as Sunday gave a shuddering final thrust, warmth spilling into you with a quaking moan of your name.  You brushed the backs of your fingers over Sunday’s upper arms before you reached around and held him, unsure of where, precisely, was safe to touch him.

You’d been on the precipice of something and it lingered in your mind, nagging.  Regardless, for a first time…

“That was messier than I expected, my apologies,” Sunday whispered.  “Allow me to help?”

You murmured an agreement and disentangled yourself, suddenly very cold in his absence.  You heard Sunday’s footsteps, soft against the plush carpet, and felt the bed dip when he returned, towel in hand.  He was gentle, attentive just like he had been earlier, if a little hesitant with the heat of the moment lost.

“I’ve been told it’s supposed to go…differently,” he said, brushing the towel against your sticky thighs.  

You stifled a giggle as his fingers found a sensitive spot.  “Ticklish there, sorry.  You were saying?”

He adjusted his approach and continued.  “Such moments are…intended to be a moment of convergence for two people.  They should…last longer, or at least not be as…one-sided…it’s selfish for me to have… finished when…”

Oh.

“Sunday.”

In the dark, it was difficult to make anything out but you felt his gaze on you, and you sat up, covering the hand on your leg with yours.

“Nothing is perfect the first time.  We can try again.  What’s important is that we communicate, right?”

You heard his swallow and imagined his Adam’s apple bobbing.  That was a spot you wondered if you could touch, could kiss if you promised to close your eyes and not peek.

“You’re very kind,” Sunday replied softly.  “I knew that, of course, but…thank you.”

“Like I said, we’ll figure it out together.”

A beat, and then as he finished drying your legs, you said, “I want to ask something but I don’t know if it’s…appropriate.”

“I will answer if I’m able to.”

“When you sleep…”

His answer was swift.  “I must remove my halo.  We won’t be sharing a bedroom.  Even here, I’ll be sleeping elsewhere.  I could not risk accidentally exposing you to Xipe’s wrath for such a transgression.”

It felt as if an icy wall had slammed against you.  You knew there would be hurdles in this new life you’d chosen, of course there would be.  You hadn’t gotten to where you were in life without a lot of them.  Shame snaked itself up your leg and you pulled away when he rose, tucking yourself under the covers.  In hindsight, it felt silly assuming you’d be able to fall asleep together.  All of that, and you would still be…

“Of course.  Forget I asked,” you replied, tone mild as if you’d asked about the weather.

You could still sense his presence in the dark as he silently gathered his things, the rustle of clothing somehow loud.  It felt like every pop of a button echoed in your skull.  You had no right to feel this way, you scolded yourself.  This wasn’t anything more than an arrangement, an agreement between two followers of the Harmony.  You’d entered this marriage knowing that it might never…

You heard the door handle and in the sliver of light trickling through, you caught Sunday’s silhouette, veil lowered and his figure clothed.  His wings were folded in, tucked behind the veil as if shielding himself.

“In time, perhaps a compromise can be reached.  We shall seek guidance on such matters when the time comes.  I shall see you in the morning.  Sweet dreams.”

Eyes stinging, and tongue thick, you pushed away your pride and your pain long enough to say, “Sleep well, Sunday.”

The door clicked shut and you pulled the covers over your head when you curled up onto your side.  You stifled your sobs with a pillow, wondering just what you’d gotten yourself into.

[tojisun]

cw: dark!141; theyre pirates so yk; f!mer!reader; third person pov (through soap)

johnny didn’t know what he had been expecting when the ship pulled a mer from the depths of the sea, struck down by their harpoon and snatched like war trophy, but it wasn’t this.

translucent tail and gils, almost milky now that they’re stark against the ship’s floor. she’s got webbing between her fingers too, nails so sharp and long which made for a surprising gift when she lunged and clawed a full stretch on simon’s face, leaving their second-in-command a bloodied mess. he’d grinned though, and spat the blood that pooled in his mouth beside the mer, before sneering at the thing because they know she wouldn’t leave unscathed.

nae, the lass wouldn’t even be able to imagine a way to escape.

but still, in the silence, now that the mer was left to flounder, arms bound and tail bleeding, they can now enjoy the view she makes.

and what a view she is. she looks like a beast, angry and yowling, long hair spilling over like a waterfall. she isn’t the first their crew has ever captured—princesses and singers, all with pearls or shells refined in ways humans could never replicate, as well as with things stolen from the ocean floor like bands of gold or silver—but this one. this one is fiery. spitting and lashing out with experience, contorting her gifts to land a hit that was unpredictable. simon would get to relay the story to everyone who would come and beg; he would tell anyone the day a spitfire mer had clawed the second-in-command of the griffon; he would tell anyone how he bled and, in retaliation, took her claws as his trophy.

her body is rigid and strong—a warrior’s gait—and it is beautiful. unimaginably so. she had nothing but a braided kelp strapped to her waist where a jagged dagger was sheathed. later, kyle would claim that for himself and they’d find that it was a bone chipped away until made sharp. kyle would see its calcification and know that this once belonged to a human.

her blood is red but it is viscous, and against her translucent tail and gills, they looked like spilled rubies. she heaves, bare body a marvel even when it is shrouded by their flickering lamps; muscles locking, shifting underneath skin, and johnny watches raptly as even her tail flexes. he’s seen one underneath the glamour before, when it was all flesh and ripped apart, but to see it flutter with every of her rasps was something else.

her beauty is endless.

the water crashes against their ship and only their captain manages to breathe back awake. he barks out orders, calling to set sail south, changing course, because no one would want to gamble a war with this mer’s pod. as for her—

“take ‘er to my cabin,” captain john purrs. “a fine display, no?”

[shotoh]

❝ THREESOME DYNAMICS ❞ pt. one

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ as the saying goes, three is better than two… right?

cw + tw. 18+, smut, minors dni, fem!reader, all characters aged up to their 20s, threesome thingz, pet names

notes. blue lock is full of such chaotic duos. makes for such good writing material. that being said there’s more where that came from OwO

NAGI + REO

tw. praise, oral fixations, reo is referred to as ‘midfielder’ because that’s his position for manshine city

full of praise, mostly coming from reo. he’s nagi’s hype man and is the most experienced out of you three so when it comes to intimacy, he’s always encouraging nagi to step outside his comfort zone. sometimes, he even enjoys putting on a show for the boy genius, taking you to the side where nagi can see you all pretty and spread out. the white haired striker would be fisting his hard-on, gray eyes watching with intent at how well reo can get you to moan so shamelessly just using his skilled fingers.

“she’s so wet, reo.”

“yeah, and all this is for us. right, pretty girl?”

as your pussy spreads thanks to his hooked digits, reo croons next to your ear, nipping behind your earlobe. he gives your folds a little tap when he leaves your fluttering hole and your thighs shudder from the short ache of stimulation. when you aim a needy, doe-eyed look at him to silently ask for more, reo entertains the notion. he drags the pads of three of his fingers up and down your pussy, gathering your wetness while hearing the obscene squelch between your slit. you hump into his hand, chasing fleeting waves of pleasure.

“ooh, now you’re making a mess, baby,” reo chides playfully. removing his soaked fingers reveals translucent, lubricant strings connecting to your center that quickly break as he brings them to your lips. “open up,” is all he has to tell you before you’re cleaning your slick off his digits, humming lewdly with every drag of your tongue. “that’s our good girl.”

meanwhile, the sight is utterly mesmerizing to nagi who’s grunting under his breath, spreading the precum at the tip of his cock down to his shaft with swift motions of his tight fist. it’s not long until nagi is all childish whines and pouts as he moves in front of you to steal your lips. with the taste of you spiking his tongue, the slacker now feels an electrifying drive coursing through his body. his cock stands painfully stiff against his abdomen. reo watches in amusement as nagi finally takes the initiative.

“said this was all for us, right?” nagi reminds stoically, droopy eyes falling onto your spread center. as he observes how your folds lewdly glisten when he parts them with two of his fingers, he can’t help but lick his lips, remembering how you tasted when you swapped spit just now. he lowers himself to meld his lips languidly up your thigh before running his tongue up your sloppy pussy, licking a long strip all the way to your clit. he savors your slick in his mouth again, moaning into your pussy that causes vibrations to rack through you. you hiss his name under your teeth.

“yum, angel, wanna taste you all night,” nagi purrs, almost acting on his words but falling back on them when his mind is overrun by the thought of how tight you’ll feel when his cock eventually sinks into you. that feeling is only intensified when he slides two fingers in your folds and you immediately squeeze around the digits.

“let’s not wait, nagi. our pretty girl is probably dying to be stuffed by us.” reo directs his coos to you, adoring the fact that you’re all wet and needy for them. your glittering eyes and adorable pleas practically have the two athletes succumb to you right then and there.

two pairs of lips latch onto your neck, sucking marks on your skin, all the while their cocks are rutting at your entrance and ass respectively. soon you’re dropping your head back over reo’s shoulder, lips ripping open with a drawn-out whine when nagi’s cock teases your folds before slowly inching inside your pussy. the midfielder holds your thighs apart to help his genius friend push his hard length between your tight walls, meanwhile you try adjusting to his intimidating size.

as your and nagi’s moans resonate clear in reo’s ears, he’s admiring with half-lidded eyes at how you’re split open on nagi’s thick girth, murmuring about how good of a job he’s doing, which encourages the striker to bottom out in you. you suddenly feel impossibly full—not even a sound comes out when your mouth gapes open. the scene alone has his anticipation to have his fill of you later bubble in reo’s chest.

“go easy on her, yeah? wouldn’t want to break our sweet girl before i have a turn, would you?” reo kisses your temple.

nagi winces as he starts working himself in and out of you, shocks of bliss hitting his body. “‘kay, reo… but she feels so good, i don’t want to let her go…”

SHIDOU + RIN

tw. mentions of violence, double penetration, rin and shidou are absolute menaces, rin wraps his hand around your neck at one point, some degradation

they’d probably spend more time smacking each other than pleasuring you. okay, that’s not entirely true, but you’d be hard pressed not to believe they wouldn’t sneak in a few swings at least. these guys are always ready to fight, and here, they’re competing over who can get you to cry their name the loudest when you eventually cum around both of their cocks.

it’s hardly shocking to say shidou is in his element against rin, being the more overtly sexual of the two and possessing an unnaturally high libido. it’s apparent in how the spiky blond never shies in sending heated stares that linger on your body, and his touch is never at all subtle in where it decides to palm and caress. he’s smirking at his rival when he gets you all flustered without even trying. shidou’s shamelessness usually results in the tendency to overwhelm you. not to the extent where it’s unpleasant, but to where you can’t seem to focus on any one thing because he’s filling every one of your senses with only him.

just the blond keeping eye contact with you, accompanied by that drunken smile plastered on his face, is enough to make your face sear and your pussy clench from where he’s shooting his hips up into you. his thick cock reaches that gummy spot that has you seeing stars in the back of your head, large hands gripping your delicious thighs. however, to shidou’s annoyance, his “eyelash freak” of a rival is doing fairly well in ensuring your attention never solely remains on him.

an advantage rin has going for him is that he’s very attentive to the finer details. whereas shidou consumes without an ounce of coherence behind those intoxicated eyes, the itoshi favors testing the waters to observe how your breaths hitch and skin prickle when his hands wander and squeeze what he swears belongs to him. he’s adept at exploiting your weaknesses so you’ll succumb to him that much faster. harshly pitching your nipples, reaching over your caged body to spin his digits along your clit—it all leads to you suddenly huffing out sweet gasps of rin’s name as you feel the engorged tip of his cock grazing your puckered hole. this causes an irritated vein to surface on the blond’s forehead.

“trying to steal the spotlight when i’m already balls deep in this pretty girl? feeling too second-rate that you can’t wait your turn or somethin’?” shidou taunts, glowering with clenched teeth.

“hmph. why should i have to wait when i already know she clearly prefers me over you? face it, you’re doing a tepid job at getting her to cum if she’s able to say my name from just me touching her,” rin counters.

even in the midst of sweaty bodies pressed against each other, these two still find the time to argue. and while you’re impaled on one of their cocks too.

the blond tilts his head, feigning hurt on his features. “oh, is that so? this thick, juicy cock not good enough for you, sweetheart?” he emphasizes his question with a quick thrust that easily hits your g-spot, causing you to lurch forward on top of him, sparks of pleasure lighting in your veins.

“shit! that’s s’ good, ryu..!” your enthusiasm manifests a wider smirk to shidou’s already cocky expression. he looks over your shoulder to relish rin clicking his tongue and narrowing those ocean eyes like he finally has something to prove to both this menace of a bug and you. his lithe digits slowly work open your ass, where you can feel rin’s hot length rolling into you.

“don’t get your hopes up, you damn insect.” he scoffs, carefully inching himself past the tight ring of muscle. as a result, you arch your back which angles you further onto shidou and rin’s cocks.

“mm… oh my god…” you gasp, teeth sharply pulling at your bottom lip before your mouth starts forming an ‘o’ shape. your enthusiasm intensifies by how well you envelop their thick sizes, greedily clenching on both of them, and effortlessly making the athletes groan and tighten their grip on your plush flesh.

rin wraps his large hand around your neck, slightly tilting you back so you have a view of him from an inverted perspective. “such a slut that you can’t be satisfied with just one cock inside you,” he comments coldly, but his harsh words contrast the careful attention he pays to your body, taking his time to let you adjust to the girthy intrusions.

shidou points a wicked grin, bright pink irises electrified by the greed of your welcoming pussy. “well, i don’t care how many cocks you have in you as long as my name is the one you’re screaming, pretty girl~”

copyright 2023 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.

[samwise1548]

Doodle request - Ivy and Raphaella doing Research together, in whatever form that may take!

I know this is YEARS old but it’s been sitting in my ask box for so long and I actually really do feel like drawing mechanisms stuff again so…

[ID: A drawing of Ivy Alexandria and Raphaella la Cognizi from The Mechanisms band, drawn in a very cartoonish style. Ivy is a white skinned woman with a red mohawk. Raphaella is a white skinned woman with curly brown hair that ombre's into blond by her shoulders. She has wings on her back. Both of them are sat on the floor. Raph pours some pink substance from a flask into a heart shaped bottle. Translucent pink hearts float out of the bottle. While Ivy watches behind a large book in her hands. A little heart floats next to Ivy. Raphaella is unaware of Ivy's staring. \End ID]

Also a traditional drawing I wanted to do when I originally got this ask. You can see the timestamp there XD

[ID: A pencil and marker drawing of Ivy and Raphaella. Raph has Ivy pushed onto an examination table as she flies only inches above. Both of them are blushing with hearts floating out of them. Papers scatter off ot the table and onto the floor, along with a shatters beaker. \End ID]

[when-i-wake-if]

It has been 18 years since humanity was brought to the truth that monsters, creatures and deities they were all too sure were myths are in fact real well most of them anyway with these new realizations comes new mysteries, problems and hope

but dawn (MC 1) never paid too much attention to it but after the death of their father they have been sent reeling the perfect life they had crumbling slowly, forcing them into positions they never would have dreamed of. Their life colliding and slowly meshing into the unknown creature's deeper darker world.

Across the city in a dingy alley badly hurt dusk (MC 2) awakes to no memories other than their name and something they were told that stung like a dagger in their heart for some reason. As Dusk tries to make sense of what is happening, they somehow fall into a rabbit hole of crime, mysteries and dark truths all because they are trying to find out who they are and how they ended up in that alley.

~Customize your MCs looks, gender identity, clothing style and name

~ Choose your legal job! (Dawn starts the game with a certain job but that job doesn't stay long)

~ Make deals that will change the course of your life

~Customize your room and apartment aesthetic style

~As Dawn manage the relationship with your mother, your ex your, past relationship and current feelings about your dead dad. As Dusk unravels your past, try to figure out what happened to you or set it all aside and attempt to make a new life for yourself

~Romance 4 different characters for both MCs and hey if you want to romance a god as one or both MCs!

Dawns ROs

Xeno || Xe/Xem || 21 || Human

"Hellooo how is my favourite co-worker! I brought you your favourite drink, I'm amazing! I know~"

Description ~ Short coily dark brown hair, lean build with a Bronze complexion, dark green eyes, Nubian nose, Xyr height is 5’11, Xe has a full tattoo sleeve on Xes right arm and a tattoo on the side of Xyr neck when outside of work Xeno tends to wear ripped black jeans, no sleeve neck length shirt, runners and a bunch of rings, necklaces and one stud earring.

Selena || She/Her || ?? || Ghost

"Please! Don't be scared I mean you no harm le-let me explain"

Description ~ Shoulder-length ginger hair that is curled at the tips, She has a chubby build and pale skin, greyish blue eyes, a button nose, height if she could stand on the floor would be 5’3, freckles kiss her face and shoulders, she forever dressed in a light blue tea length swing dress and stockings with a pair of black flats, adorned in pearl earrings and necklace, to most she appears slightly translucent

Brier || He/Him or She/Her || Gender selectable|| 228 || Vampire

"Oh, sweetheart, are you okay? Please don't cry. How about a rose? Will that give you back your pretty little smile?"

Description ~ Chin length afro-textured dark brown hair, Slim build and ebony complexion, Dark red eyes, button nose, height 5’7, outside of work they typically wear wide cuff pants, cropped blouse with a sweetheart collar, 4-inch heels or black dress shoes, round glasses, realistic heart shaped earrings, ruby necklace, silver rings

Míng || They/He || 30 || Dragon

"Well, maybe if you watched or read the news more you would know how shitty it is for people who aren't human like you."

Description ~ bleached white shoulder-length hair, lean build light brown complexion, black sclera and piercing yellow iris, flat nose height being 5'7, scales litter their body colours mainly being yellow and orange with some red ones sprinkled in, typically wears graphic tees , with a worn-out black bomber jacket, cargo pants and platform boots

Both MCs

Is || she/her, he/him or they/them || Gender selectable || ??? || Minor God of death {and dreams}

"Is it truly a lie or is it just not the truth you want to hear? Darling, you have so much to learn"

Description~ Long straight black hair that reaches past their ass typically in some kind of intricate hairstyle with silver jewellery woven in, curvy build with a tanned complexion, pale white eyes, roman nose, height 8,5 when not forced to dress modestly they are always wearing a short dress with a marabou robe or a satin robe and six-inch heels, adorned in many silver bracelets, necklaces, rings and flower earrings and they have belly button piercing

Dusks ROs

Sire || He/Him || 26 || Kelpie

"you should watch where you are going around here, kid. Someone will end up killing you if you are not careful"

Description ~ Shoulder length wavy dark green hair so dark it almost appears black Sire's hair always seems to look wet/damp, he has a dad bod and Ivory complexion, black eyes, Greek nose, His height is on the slightly shorter side standing at 5’4, usually wearing black leather pants, dress shoes and a button-up shirt that never fully buttoned up

Loralie || They/Them || 24 || Siren

"you are so adorable. I could eat you up~ how about I buy you a drink gorgeous"

Description ~ Mid back length black goddess braids, Athletic Swimmer build and Dark brown complexion with dark blueish grey scales scattered about, piercing grey eyes, Flat nose, height 6’2, a large scar down the middle of their chest, gills most noticeable upon their neck, outside of work they typically wear cargo pants, muscle shirt, converse shoes, a gold locket, dangle earrings, spectrum piercing

Joshua || He/They || 20 || Werewolf

"Plan?? I never said I had a plan did I? ...oh well I didn't but don't worry I can get us out of this"

Description ~ Short messy dirty blonde hair, muscular build and tan complexion, amber eyes, Greek nose though it has obviously been broken in the past, scar along the right of their jaw, freckles speckled over his face, height 6’0, typically wears work boots, jeans and a muscle shirt with a flannel jacket

Z || She/He/They || ?? || Undead

"pay me back? How about you? Let me eat you and I'll take that as your repayment. I'm quite hungry and you're starting to irritate me"

Description ~ Messy straight chin length black hair with strands of grey hairs throughout, skinny build and pale olive and appears slightly greeny yellowish, black eyes, hawk nose, the height of 5'6 the left corner of her mouth is carved away, revealing most of their teeth and flesh and their left hands pinky and ring finger are just bone the surrounding area seems to have a hideous burn scar though he typically covers it up by wearing white gloves, black turtleneck, beige torn pants and two different pairs of dirty runners

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How do you climb up from rock bottom? What are you willing to do? To sacrifice. To find out the truth, what will you do when you get those truths? What if they aren't what you expected or wanted? Will you help others or push the world aside? how far is too far to achieve your goals?

Demo: TBA || My other IF || Character Portraits: coming soon

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Full HCs of the M6 with wings please 🙏🏽

The Arcana HCs: M6 with wings

Julian

His wings look much like a raven's, except where there would be shades of blue when the light hits them, it's deep burgundy for him

Generally so sleek that he can fold them alongside his oversized coat and they're almost impossible to differentiate

One oddly humorous side effect of this is the way it affects his body language. Being such an expressive storyteller, his coat will look like it has a life of its own as he wildly gestures along

Not the best at remembering to take care of them and will melt into a puddle of affection-starved goo as soon as you start helping him preen and maintain them. Loves rambling about the anatomy

Repurposes his own shed feathers as quills

Likes wrapping them around you when he's giving you one of his all-encompassing hugs, otherwise, he keeps them in his space

Will get sooo fluffed out when you fluster him that his coat will start flapping like it's in a storm and his wings will get even bushier than his eyebrows. Feathers will start to fly if it's intense

Much prefers walking to flying unless absolutely necessary, but will make exceptions if it's to go on an adventure with you

Asra

Their wings are closely tied to their magic, and as such are very difficult to fully comprehend. They look like gravity-defying water

More specifically, his wings look a fairy's or a fly's wings, translucent with ever-shifting swirls and patterns, subtly glowing with a myriad of colors that blend into a pearly blue-ish purple

Their wings are also something they generally don't show in public - they fold down below their shoulders like a cape and lie flat below their rainbow coat. They don't care to draw attention to them

Nobody knows what exactly wing maintenance involves, all you know is that every full moon or so he goes swimming in the cave and seems extra glowy afterwards

Can and will use them like prisms during lazy mornings sleeping in and scatter rainbows all over the place

Has been known to paint on them like stained glass when they're bored. They do invite you to join in, but they're awfully ticklish

Tends to idly hover when he flies, but the one or two times you've seen him motivated to go fast he practically flashes across the sky. You're sure he's cheating aerodynamics somehow but he won't tell

Nadia

While the shape of her wings resembles an owl's, their gauzy, shimmery surface look almost like a butterfly's - if a butterfly's wings could fold back and drape elegantly along golden lines

The deep royal purple of them and the pink shimmer when the light hits them makes them look deceptively delicate. Nadia's wings are not fragile in the slightest

You did see her incorporate them into her swordplay, once, and the impact of one of them hitting her opponent sent them sailing across the ring. They are not to be messed with

While she doesn't show them off, she's not shy about them either. She spends hours maintaining them and coordinates ornaments for them to match her outfit and the occasion

Loves cupping one around your shoulders and back whenever you stand next to her, both to warm you and to protect you

Can gain the attention of a room of nobles simply by fluttering them, and uses this skill regularly and effectively

Will lightly brush your jaw with them when she walks by

Flies like a fighter jet. You've never seen acrobatics like these

Muriel

He dislikes his wings about as much as he dislikes the rest of his body, which is both saddening and par for the course

Like the rest of him, his wings are strong, big, heavy, and thick. You'd compare them to a bat, but the fur on the outside is as long and coarse as a bear's and there are powerful sinews throughout

You don't find this out for a while, but the insides of his wings are warm and leathery, covered in soft fine hairs, and very safe and comforting when you need shielding from harsher elements

Very self-conscious about the scarring and size of them

Keeps them folded in so tightly they look permanently cramped and uncomfortable, and only fully extends them when he absolutely has to. He does avoid flying because of this

As for the scarring - well - it's crisscrossed all over after years of combat, the edges are shredded and tattered in places, and you can tell where some bones and cartilage broke and healed crooked

The first time he let you sit behind him, wash and comb the fur, and finally moisturize them, he was able to let them hang loose for the rest of the day without needing to draw them in again

Portia

She has bird wings much like her brother, but they're considerably fluffier, stronger, and have the colors of a warm sunset

Keeps them neatly folded against her back while she's working, but otherwise they're fluffing and twitching and swaying behind her while she's laughing and chatting with you and her friends

Switches between flying and walking without thinking about it - she needs to get across the canal? She's not bothering with a bridge, she's taking a hop, flap, and a flutter to the other side

Loves using them to snuggle you. Whether it's casual brushes against your arms, folding around your waist to hug you, resting over your head when it starts to rain, it's all fair game

This is overall very pleasant, because she takes thorough care of them and the downy soft undersides feel like falling into the fluffiest cloud you could possibly imagine

Will use them to nudge people out of the way if she feels like her (or your) personal space isn't being respected

Her wings are so feather-dense that she does shed quite a lot and you find sunset feathers anywhere she sits or lies down

Lucio

He loves showing them off and he hates comments about their traits. Morga once told you that they were snowy white when he was a child, but over the years got streaked with red and black

They're webbed, thin enough to look like frost, with fine golden veins. Over time the sinews and bones took on crimson and charcoal black colors and he's rather proud of the effect

What he's less likely to flaunt is the deep, jagged scar slicing through one side that he got when he lost his arm

He effectively turned it into artwork with a golden tattoo, but he still tends to carefully position his gauntlet to cover for it

This in no way stops him from parading his wings otherwise. They're always halfway unfurled, poised like he's about to take flight, and matching his face for expressiveness

Startle him, and they'll fly above his head in shock before they ruffle and bristle and rustle around his shoulders as he loudly insists that he wasn't surprised at all, just playing along, no really!

Likes gently booping your nose with them to get your attention

Tends to compare his wings to others when he's insecure

[whimsicallywiddershins]

The entire fandom agrees that Percy Jackson has some scary eldritch qualities that humans notice. But I think that all the demigods do, even if most of the effects are more subtle. Powerful demigods are super noticeable, but even the weakest are scary to normal people. But I like to imagine some of my favorites:

Annabeth looks at people like she's dissecting a blueprint, and nothing about them is hidden. She turns her head at odd angles, like an owl. She notices small things and goes completely still, staring, like a bird of prey who just saw a mouse. People feel unsettled by her gaze, like every weakness and vulnerability are no longer hidden.

Hazel's hair, skin and eyes seem to shine metallic when the light catches just right. Sometimes her motions are rigid and awkward, like she hadn't used her limbs for a long time, like she isn't used to having a body. Her shadow is a deeper black than it should be, is bigger than it should be, and doesn't always move with the light.

Nico's skin is sometimes almost translucent, like he is more ghost than human. You can almost see the muscle and bones beneath it. His eyes catch and hold people, so dark and deep it feels like they are falling an incredibly long distance into dark water and earth. His shadow is also too dark. Sometimes, people swear they can hear faint screaming from his shadow, like thousands of tormented souls are trapped inside.

Jason has fangs, more wolf than human. His mouth opens wider than it should, and he looks at people like he is thinking of the best way to hunt and catch and rip and tear. His eyes are too blue and he always smells like ozone. People want to bow to him as he walks by. People want to run, but instinctively know that he will chase them, and they wait, frozen, for him to pass.

Thalia, like Jason, is a hunter. Her eyes are too blue, too vivid, and she stares people down like she is already picturing them riddled with arrows. She tracks small sounds with terrifying intensity. Brushing up against her will deliver a horrible static shock, and power lines and lights flicker and buzz when she walks by.

Will's hair is too bright. His skin glows, especially at night. At first, it seems to be a sweet thing, his good nature shining though. But sometimes when people touch him, they burn. Just standing near him is too much, like standing in the direct sun on a hot summer day.

Piper's face seems to change, every time someone turns to look at her. Subtle, but someone's subconscious is screaming that this girl is different, something is wrong. Her voice trills, like a bird, when she in happy. People can't help but to follow her and when she is gone, they feel bereft. She is too beautiful, and it hurts to look, but people can't help themselves and look anyways.

Leo is always hot to the touch. His fingers and limbs feel rough and metallic, his hair curls like wire. His eyes glitter like polished coins and when he walks by, cars and computers and machines start up and move on their own, just for a moment. He runs across a busy street and the cars stop for him with no regard for what the driver is doing.

Frank doesn't move like a human. He glides, slinks, pads softly and so quietly most people don't notice him. He had an aura of command. Frank seems so normal and average, but angry or upset people look at him and know that they can't take him. Sometimes, when he is angry, people get upset and fights start in his wake.

[siriuslystyle1989]

Hard Liquor Mixed With A Bit Of Intellect (Part 3)

Series masterlist misc masterlist

Modern!Azriel x fem!reader

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

Y/n sat, legs dangling off the side of her balcony, Cigarette lit in her mouth.

Today was the day she met Azriel's friends. The friends he insisted were more than that. The day she met his family. Azriel had had a difficult childhood, to say the least, therefore Y/n was glad he had a support system of people who genuinely loved and cared for him.

But would they like her?

She brushed the thought away as quickly as it had come allowing the nicotine to hit her system. Azriel would be around any minute to pick her up.

She wasn't nervous, per se, she just wasn't one for family gatherings. Having grown up with just her mother, big family gatherings weren't something she was used to.

Light was suddenly emitted from her phone, an indicator that Azriel was here.

Azriel: Hey sweetheart, I'm outside when you're ready.

Y/N: Yep, just coming now.

She sighed out a shakey breath as she moved back into her apartment, slipping on her cherry-red leather jacket over her square-necked crop top and placing her Mary Janes over her translucent stockings, she grabbed her bag and locked the door behind her.

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

"Relax baby." Azriel looked her in the eye as they walked up to Rhys' front door, watching her flatten out her denim for what seemed to be the 50th time.

"I've never seen you so nervous, what's wrong? They'll love you." He spoke, reassuringly pressing a palm to her back.

"I've just never really done this kind of thing." Her panicked eyes looked directly at his as he grabbed her clammy palm, kissing her knuckles.

"My love." He looked at her with adoration. "It's an informal dinner."

Biting her lip, she nodded. Knowing it was ridiculously out of character for her to be this nervous.

Azriel leaned to the large wooden door, picked up the gold-plated knocker and swung it thrice. The sound seemed to radiate wealth.

A woman answered, her blue-grey eyes instantly locking with Y/n's.

Sweeping her golden brown hair out of her face, she spoke.

"Thank you guys for coming!" She hugged Azriel, then moved to Y/n who caught herself smiling at their interaction.

"And you must be Y/n, I'm Feyre"

Y/n smiled at the woman.

"It's lovely to finally meet you Feyre, Az has told me so much about you."

"Come in guys, everyone is in the dining room." Feyre smiled once more guiding the way to the dining room.

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

Once seated, Y/n's eyes scanned the room as Feyre began to introduce everyone.

"This is my husband Rhys." She stated as the man at the head of the table rose to shake her hand.

"Hope Azriel is treating you right Y/n" He smirked, nodding his head towards her boyfriend who sent him a glare.

"This is-" As Feyre attempted to introduce the man sitting directly opposite her, she was interrupted.

"Cassian." He smiled, grabbing her hand and kissing it. His long dark hair fell in front of his face as he did so.

"ah, yes, of course, I've heard all about you," Y/n replied with a snicker. Cassian looked towards her with mock pride.

"Aww is Azzie talking about me."

"She saw you at the club you prick." Azriel replied, shaking his head at the burly man.

"Hi, I'm Mor!" a blonde woman sat down in the chair next to her, Y/n felt at ease as she spoke, instantly liking her.

"And that's Amren." Mor stated, pointing to the other end of the table where a petite woman with a short black bob sat. She would almost be intimidating if she wasn't so short Y/n thought to herself.

"And these are my sisters." Feyre finally found a chance to cut in signalling towards two girls sitting next to one another. The younger girl was beautiful, though had a kind aura about her, the older of the two had harsher features, though still devastatingly beautiful.

"Nesta and Elain." Elain waved at her and Nesta shot her a quick smile.

As the dinner progressed, Y/n found herself at ease and in deep conversation with many of the people at the table.

"So, Y/n, you're in college?" Mor questioned, turning to the girl while picking up food on her fork.

"Mhm, astrophysics." Y/n said nonchalantly placing food in her mouth.

Cassian let out a low whistle "So you're clever then?"

"To an extent."

everyone at the table began to laugh.

Y/n began to feel comfortable with the majority of the people at the dinner. Yet, she found herself most intrigued by Feyre's sister, Nesta.

Elain and Azriel seemed to be deep in conversation about something when Nesta began to strike one up with her.

They began speaking and instantly it seemed as though kindred spirits had collided.

Y/n felt as though Nesta was a lot like her.

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

As the night began to close, Rhys and Feyre needed to pick up Nyx and the dinner was over.

Azriel placed a kiss atop Y/n's head and spoke softly in her ear as they wandered to the front door.

"You did so well, I can tell they love you."

This brought a smile to Y/n's face as he placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her forward.

"Thank you so much for coming." Feyre squeezed Y/n into a hug.

"Thank you for inviting me, it was lovely to meet you all." Y/n smiled back at the woman.

"You are welcome here any time."

And with that Y/n and Azriel walked hand in hand out of the door, back to her apartment.

"That went better than expected," Y/n spoke up, looking at Azriel.

"I told you they'd like you, my love."

A/n: Thank you so much to everyone following along!! Let me know if you want to be on my taglist!!

Taglist: @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lilah-asteria

[strangesthirdeye]

ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʀᴇsᴛ ɴᴏᴡ (sᴇᴠᴇʀᴜs sɴᴀᴘᴇ x ᴡɪғᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Summary: Till Death Do Us Apart

Warning: IT'S SEVERUS SNAPE. i love writing angst for him. Wife reader, heavy angst, Deathly Hallow part 2, Blood, Secret wife and daughter, Sad, wounds, acceptance, major character death.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Harry rushes forward, into the strange, wavering light, then stops in horror, watching Severus’ blood run like syrup over the weathered boards toward him.

Ron bumps past, heading in the direction Voldemort took. Hermione pauses by Harry. Harry kneels by Severus. He lays his fingers upon the bloody wound at his neck, but it’s no use. Severus' eyes shift and, briefly, look deep into Harry’s. And then he begins to... Cry.

Harry is stunned at this sudden emotion. As long as he knows Severus, he has never seen any kind of emotion show on his face. Let alone see him cry.

Severus' breath gasped as he gasped for oxygen. Trying to muster himself to speak. "take them" Severus whispered, tears running down his cheeks.

Harry looked at him confused and hesitant. He didn't understand what Severus meant.

Severus gestured towards his wet cheeks. "Take them" he said again.

Severus' face shuddered softly and his tears transformed, from clear water to silvery blue. Harry reacts to the color. He’s seen it before. Suddenly Severus grabs his collar, pulls him close.

"Please" Severus choked, he holds Harry captive briefly, then drops back to the floor.

Harry blinks, shaken. He then turned toward Hermione who witnessed these seemingly broken moments.

"Give me something! Quickly! A flask! Anything." He shouted.

Instantly, Hermione conjures a flask from thin air before giving it to Harry who took it with his trembling hands. Hands trembling, Harry presses it to Severus' ashen cheek, letting the fluid flow within. Severus stared at James double for a moment. He can feel himself fade away from this world but he needs to hold on a little longer as he was waiting for someone he means to meet before he goes. One last time. He wants to hear her voice one last time.

Harry still took in Severus' tears. His other hand still pressing against Severus wound in the neck. Blood poured out of Severus' chest non-stop. Every blood that flows is how close his death is.

"They are the same."

Harry searches Snape’s face, trying to decipher his words. Snape stares at Harry in wonder, lost in his eyes, then his pupils dilate, his voice trailing off.

"You have your mother's eyes" he whispered.

He remembers his best friend's eyes. Lily Evans. Now he feels guilty for what he did in his past life. Had he known that Voldemort would kill Harry's parents, he surely would apparate and bring them all to another safer place even though he hates James but he knows that Lily is happy with him. He no longer has feelings for Lily because he already has someone who understands him. Someone who makes him happy. Severus eyes fixed on Harry's eyes.

Harry was silent as he stared at his former potions teacher. A crack of someone's apparate could be heard behind Hermione as Hermione pointed her wand at whoever appeared cautiously.

There stood a woman who was the same age as Severus who wore black robes with dark pants. Her E/c fixed on the scene in front of her. Her face is smudged with ashes and cuts. Her hair is messy. The mysterious woman widened her eyes before rushing towards Severus' side and kneeling beside him.

Harry looked at the woman skeptically. The woman seems out of breath but then she suddenly lets out a gasped as she takes a place where Harry is. Harry moved himself aside letting the woman take his place. The vial in his hand was held tightly. She put her hand on Severus' wound. Pressing it gently. Severus' glossy eyes fixed on the woman beside him. He smiled faintly though Harry could see that Severus was smiling at the woman.

"hey" She choked on her tears but maintained her tearful smile.

"Hey" Severus' muttered, his energy is getting lower and lower.

"It's okay.. We'll be okay" the woman whispered.

Hermione's cheeks are wet with tears as she witnesses this. She didn't know who this woman was or what her relationship was with Severus, but she assumed that this woman was someone Severus had known for a long time. Someone he has known since the first wizardry war.

Severus mustered up his energy to wipe the tears on the woman's cheeks with his thumb. He smiles with guilt. The guilt that he had to leave this incredible woman. His hands limped back to his side. He can feel himself getting colder.

"Tell her that I love her so much.. That I'm sorry that I can't go home.. " Severus choked on his own blood.

"She'll understand.. She is smart like her father. And she knows that you love her so much" the woman was only able to smile reassuringly at Severus as if she didn't want to be sad at his last moment.

'What? Is she married to Snape?' Harry eyes fixed on the woman's hand where there was a silver ring that simply resided on the woman's finger. Light shone on the ring. Harry looked at the woman in disbelief. This woman is Snape's wife. Secret wife to be exact.

Severus' eyes began to lose the spark of life. His eyes stared at the woman's face longingly.

"I'm sorry that my journey stopped here.. I should have been with you, always" Severus muttered. His voice getting smaller and smaller as the life comes out of him slowly.

The woman moved her free hand to brush away the strands of hair from Severus' face, she let out a shaky breath.

"I understand that your journey stops here. You have done all kinds of incredible things. This is your time to rest, my love.. It's okay, you can rest now" She moved and kissed the corner of his lips genuinely. Her eyes are closed as she savors the feeling of his pale skin that is getting colder. One last kiss.. is all he wants before he goes.

And Severus' body goes stiff. His eyes glazed over in space in front of him. And the woman let out a broken weeping as she put her head on Severus' shoulder. She knows that he's gone judging by the lack of reaction by him. The last life of him passed away, so was his soul leaving his love weeping for him to come back. The woman moved her hand that pressed on the wound on Severus' neck and clutching his robes tightly as she wept on Severus' shoulder.

She didn't care about the blood that stained her robes as long as she was able to hold her lover one last time. The teens who were there looked at the woman with sorrow painted on their faces. The sound of broken sobbing was heard there before the sobbing stopped and only sniffles could be heard.

The woman turned her head towards the two teens there. Eyes red and puffy plus cheeks wet with tears. She let out a shaky breath before speaking.

"Please forgive everything that my husband did to you. He did not mean to do that for he was told to do that for the sake of hiding his true purpose to bring the Dark Lord down. It was so bad and cruel for him to do that and he's really sorry for everything he did to you all.. " the woman said sorrowfully.

Harry and Hermione stared at the woman in sympathy. Hermione stepped forward slowly approaching the woman.

"We forgive him." and those simple words brought a single tear to the woman's cheek.

"please... Take the vial to the pensieve, Harry.. There's so much you need to know in those drops of memories.. Please.. You need to understand it" the woman pleaded, taking Harry's hands and cupped his hands tightly with her bloodstained hands . Her eyes fixed on him.

Harry nodded his head several times before the woman let go of her grasp and let the young man and woman leave the Boathouse.

You turned your body back to Severus. You scooted closer to him and gently closed his glazed eyes. He looks very peaceful like he is sleeping. Sleep that will not wake up. You hugged his body tightly.

[whalesforhands]

What would satosugu do if Mc had another lover?

HAHAAH I WENT IN A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT DIRECTION

“I think I fell in love recently…” Your eyes are glazing over with infatuated lovesickness. Your chocolate bread long abandoned as your hand rests upon your heated cheek, the lovely thoughts of your object of affection flashing through your mind’s eye. Shoko pokes a finger into your free cheek, watching as the flesh squishes beneath her skin before leaning forth to steal a bite of your lunch.

“What?!” Gojo’s strawberry cheesecake had all of its initial interest stolen，the metal spork he had stolen from Geto’s home-made lunch bouncing off of his lap and clattering onto the classroom floor, just as Geto’s chopsticks pause midair, face starting to turn pale as he pounds at his chest to prevent the cherry tomato he had swallowed from going down the wrong pipe.

The look in your eyes is still far away, dazed and enraptured with the thoughts of your mystery crush, hearts basically emanating from you as the afternoon sunlight casts a gentle glow on you through the translucent curtains.

(Since when was there a breeze flowing through your hair, indoors…?)

It’s Suguru that barely manages to avoid choking through a mouthful of his fruit, a napkin to his mouth as he spits it out, hastily downing some water.

“When—“ He coughs to better swallow the drink that refuses to go down. “Did you both meet?” Satoru’s still struck with too much surprise and flabbergasted by your sudden news, his lower jaw hanging open as his sunglasses fall onto the turn of his nose.

Just when did they ever have another competitor?!

(Suguru closes his mouth for him.)

“We met when Shoko and I were out-“ Your fingers twiddle with the newly bought scrunchie inbetween your hands, the soft material making you reminisce the feel of fluttery feelings your mystery person gave you. “He was so soft and cuddly, with just a bit of attitude…”

Your eyes close in smitten devotion, your gait growing shy as your head swirls with images of him.

“Black and white hair…” A delinquent?! With dyed hair?! When was that ever your type? (“Seriously?! That’s what you’re into?!”)

“The sharpest brown eyes…” (“Suguru has sharper eye— Ow!”)

“The cutest upturned nose, and the softest hands…”

(“I’m cuter! And my hands are way softer!”

He holds out his hands to the group, placing them atop the desks that were pushed together for lunchtime.

“Shoko! Suguru! Feel and tell her!”)

“Could this be… What others call love at first sight?” Your trance is broken once you’re grabbed by your shoulders, being vigorously shaken back and forth as Gojo gets all up in your face, leaning diagonally towards you. “No! No, it’s not!”

Shoko is absolutely losing it, barely holding herself together whilst sneakily trying to muffle her snickers as she takes another bite of your chocolate cream bun that was now in her possession.

(You don’t mind. You still have the vanilla bean, azuki bean and dark chocolate flavours to try out.)

Suguru’s still baffled, holding his head in his hand as a finger taps anxiously on his forehead. A surge of fear going through him.

(Why? Why another person? What did he have that he or Gojo didn’t? They can’t possibly be lacking, can they? Shoko may call both of them trash but…)

“Do you mind if we meet them?” It comes out even before he could process his words, even Suguru himself is taken aback by how calm, how normal his voice had sounded, how it lacked all the anxiety and anger that coursed through him.

——

You agreed. Of course you agreed.

“I don’t think he will mind at all!” The smile on your face is absolutely radiant. “Ah, he’s just a little shy though.” You grow timid once again as your face alights with another grin. Does the mere thought of him make you blush and falter like a lovesick schoolgirl…?

“But I’m sure you will all love him!”

No. Suguru decides that he absolutely will not. Not when you’re practically skipping in excitement down the path, Satoru’s arm around you as he openly glares at each and every teenaged individual that seemed to match your description.

(“Hah?! What are you looking at?!” Gojo’s glaring at another man that dared to breathe in your general direction.

“(name), I don’t like how that guy looks.” He’s whispering into your ear as you giggle, telling him to knock it off with a light tap to his nose, his whining barely ceasing.

“I bet your friend isn’t much to look at anyway!” You tilt your head to the side, a contemplative hand under your chin as you stare at Satoru head-on, from his personality to his looks. “Hmm… I think you’re both around the same level.”

“Me?! Compared to him?!”)

Suguru’s following closely behind you both with Shoko at his side, the girl lackadaisically sipping at the coffee you had gotten for her as she maintains her silence, enjoying the sights and sounds of the busy street.

As if she knows something they don’t.

“You look awfully calm. Is there something you want to say?” Suguru’s look towards her is placid, a look of feint serenity, smile stretched just a little too wide, eyes clenched a little too tight.

He’s nervous. And Shoko can tell.

From the way he’s been blowing that strand of his bangs out of his face, taking just a few minutes more to brush out his hair before heading out today, walking so close to you earlier that distance was practically a myth between the both of you.

He’s jealous. And wasn’t trying to make it as obvious as Gojo did.

(Can you even tell either of them are jealous?)

You blink when Geto assists you in clasping your necklace, his warm hands pressing against your nape as you melt into his gentle touch. How nice of him. You were just about to ask him for help. “Don’t let others do this for you, okay?”

You recoil slightly when a napkin is slapped onto your face to wipe the cream off, Gojo’s hand enthusiastically helping you as you try your best to stay still, his free hand holding your cheek to prevent you from moving too much. “Only we can get this close to you, alright?!”

Okay…? You’ll always listen to them is what you have decided.

(Unless Shoko has an input too. You’ll let hers override theirs.)

She twirls a strand of her hair as she finishes the final sip of her coffee, taking a chance and trying out Gojo’s half-drunk bubble tea.

She makes a face before she replies, the sugar on her tongue making her grimace. “Not much at all.”

Geto pins his gaze onto her, laughing lightly as his fists start to unclench. “I think I would know. I’m your friend after all.”

The girl stirs the straw within the cup, smiling. She’s satisfied with that reply as she pulls out her phone, hiding away the lock screen from his view. “Then you have nothing to worry about. I promise on our friendship.”

Geto Suguru is at ease. (Only just the slightest.)

(“(nameeeeeeeee)!!! That guy looked at you suspiciously! Is that him?!”

“He doesn’t even have black OR white hair…”

“I don’t like how he stared at you! Suguru! Stand at the other side! Shoko, you’re on front duty!”)

——

“We’re here!” You’re standing before an alleyway, shaded just enough to protect the inner area from the sun.

“Ruruko! Are you here?” You jog deeper in as the trio quickly go after you, thoughts flying through a particular duos’ brains.

Ruruko? What kind of man that has you so enamored has that name? What kind of gentleman makes you come meet him in an alleyway? Why is Shoko so calm?!

(And why is she recording this?)

Satoru’s crossing his arms, puffing his chest out as he surveys the area, waiting for a group of rabid teenagers to jump out and attack as Suguru’s watching with careful intent, stance ready to take on a sudden fight before—

“Ruruko!” You’re squatting, lowering yourself down as you start cooing. Scratching inbetween the cat’s ears and under its chin as he meows, purrs into your hand.

“See? Isn’t he just the cutest?!” You’re practically squealing when the cat nuzzles back up to you, allowing you to pick it up and hold it, letting it’s furry front face the SSS trio as you bring his furry face next to yours, nuzzling your cheek into his and showing off his shiny black-white mottled coat and pretty brown eyes.

It only meows as it stares at them, licking his paws and using it to flick at his ears.

“A cat?!” Satoru’s gasping as he falls to his knees, dramatically holding his head in his hands. As Suguru plants his hand against a wall, his other covering his eyes.

“It was a cat all along?!”

masterlist

Notes:

Both Gojo and Geto have a new lock screen photo of you holding Ruruko now. Shoko already has one.

Ruruko. satoRU, suguRU, shoKO. RURUKO.

Shoko knew all along, if you couldn’t already tell.

Gojo buys bubble tea with 100% sugar. Less ice.

nvy’s aftertalk:

to tide my non-kofi readers over since i haven’t fed y’all in a while haha

[aesteries]

⋆✴︎˚。⋆ ─ ❝sweetling❞ ─ aemond targaryen and original female character. ❝alicent hightower's youngest daughter, haera targaryen, has returned to king's landing after eight long years in old town and aemond finds himself inexplicably drawn to the girl kissed by the moon and with the eyes that seem to only look at him.❞

how could i not love eyes that see me in all my forms as beautiful? 〔incest, innocence and fantasies, romance, smut, virginity, events of blood and cheese, family rivalry, disabled main character, hints of book!aemond, modified show!timeline and events.〕

                 INTRODUCTION. 

Queen Alicent Hightower’s last pregnancy proved to be the most difficult out of all - unlike what the maester had predicted, she had been carrying a female babe during the pregnancy. She started her labors two moons before the estimated time since conception, bringing worries about her health and fearing this child lost. The young queen of twenty-and-two, already on her fourth birthing bed, spent numerous hours with a high fever while laboring, screaming in pain as the maester and maids were sent into a panicked frenzy when they found that the babe was being delivered feet-first with the threat of the umbilical cord somewhere around the body, possibly restricting in one way or another.

When informed, King Viserys was faced with the same decision that had taken the life of his first wife.

it was either his child or his child-wife.

The Hand of the King and father to the Queen Consort, Otto Hightower, advised the King to leave the matter of women in the hands of The Mother, though it is reported that he demanded to bar the doors to his daughter’s chambers in case someone dared to approach the said room, fearing The Stranger wearing an ally's face.

By the hour of the nightingale, when the day had begun to seep into the night sky, an experienced nurse grew tired of the uncertainty of the situation and grabbed the babe’s feet to drag its body out of the young queen in a last attempt to save both of their lives, a small rip to the queen’s body in sacrifice for the life of the child. The babe was awfully pale, even taking into consideration her Valyrian heritage, with hair as white as cotton, and eyelashes as translucent as a ray of moonlight but no sound coming from her parted lips. 

Otto Hightower sneered down at the silent child with obvious disdain while the old maester and his women rushed around the newborn, frantically trying to bring her back from The Stranger’s arms. The gender did not disappoint him as she had brought forth a daughter before, but it was the fact that she looked so different from her siblings that sent chills down his spine. She was different, and it was not acceptable for a daughter of the crown. They would whisper behind her back, just like Rhaenyra’s children, not for the truth of her heritage, but of the condition that shackled her future to uncertainty. Would this child be useful enough for a political alliance? or would other Lords reject the gift of the blood of the dragon in fear of the curse this child could bring to their House?

Alicent in a haze, still recovering from hours of childbirth, tiredly called out to The Mother for guidance and forgiveness, and in response, the babe let out a piercing cry as she drew her first breath, filling the birthing chamber with the sound of new life. Two of the Queen's children, Aemond and Helaena, were present to hear the ugly cries of the tiny princess.

The King named her Haera - after the stories of a forgotten Goddess of Old Valyria, who supposedly reigned over women and childbirth.

Life was an uphill battle for the young girl, as in her first few months of life, Princess Haera struggled to latch onto her mother’s breast or be comforted by a wet nurse, found it hard to sleep at night, and frequently suffered from delicate fevers that kept her young mother on edge. As her siblings had grown and developed, she found it increasingly difficult to keep pace with the milestones they had reached as she grew. They often found her crawling on her knees behind her siblings at an age where she should have been on her two feet.

The girl would be the first of Alicent and King Viserys’ union to have her dragon egg hatch in the cradle, a beautiful dragon of iridescent scales that was named Brightfyre, though Haera’s difficult life and condition seemed to have somehow infected her hatchling, as it found failure to thrive and passed in the young girl’s arms at the age of three. a sign, said one of the dragonkeepers, a sign of more tragedy to come.

Although from the same womb, her siblings did not find much in common with her, as she had spent most of her childhood in the safety of her bedchambers with maesters and nurses who would take care of her health. This limited her interaction with them and bound her to bed and her studies all day long. The only sibling who would constantly visit was Helaena, and even conversation with her proved difficult. Aegon was simply not interested in her existence and would even forget he had a second sister. To satisfy her curiosity and her need for adventure as the long days of sickness took over her childhood, she turned to books as companionship with her imagination being her only entertainment.

Aemond, the more emotional of the siblings and without anything to lose, would sometimes force himself to visit her during the late hours of the night, believing that it was what the young girl deserved. In a way, he avoided Aegon and their nephews’ teasing comments as he snuck around the castle to reach her chambers when everyone else had fallen asleep. Their talks would be short and very awkward, but she would be grateful nonetheless. Sometimes, he’d bring her books as she slept, and she would devour each one the next day. 

On the eve of her tenth nameday celebration, King Viserys decided that his youngest daughter, Haera, would join Lord Osmund Hightower in Oldtown to be cared for by the maesters of the Citadel, who would strive to find a cure for her so-called illness that had only progressed from birth, now threatening to take her vision from her. That day, almost a week after the announcement, Queen Alicent had to be supported by her maids as she watched her daughter be taken away from her at such a young age, tears rolling down her plump cheeks as she cried for her mother. 

Aemond did not feel the pain of her departure, somehow detaching himself from her, out of sight and out of mind. The remaining siblings watched from the top of their stairs as the carriage went out the gates and disappeared into the busy city.

Aemond suffered the loss of his eye in a fierce confrontation with his nephew, Lucerys Velaryon, a mere two moons after their separation. He would grow into a rough, seemingly emotionless man with no weakness, the memory of his younger sibling fading with time as the years went by without any contact whatsoever.

Now as adults, she returns. 

ᡣ𐭩 ─ author's note ;

welcome to the sweetling universe! where instead of having daeron, alicent gave birth to another girl. i had planned to release this introduction as part of the first chapter, but it feels like it ruined the vibe in some way and i didn't really want to spend the first chapter building some backstory so the main character could be introduced so i thought a separate semi-chapter would fit better. i was trying to imitate maesters' writings in one way but of course i totally missed the mark.

haera targaryen is a character i have dreamed about so many times before, so i hope i can make her justice and write her just the way she is in my dreams. i have plenty of original characters created for my future fics, but she has her own special place in my heart for some reason, even if she's not my firstborn oc.

the ages are modified due to the nature of this story, and they are changed into this; aegon is twenty-two, as he is according to the books during the dance of the dragons. aemond is around twenty-one, helaena is nineteen, and Haera is eighteen years of age. jacaerys has been aged up to be around aemond's age, while lucerys is haera's age.

this story was originally a 'blink and you'll miss the plot' smut one-shot, but as haera came to be, i just had the desire to write more about her, so the mini-series was born. it won't be long, calculating about five chapters of 6k+ words each that won't go into the whole plot of the dance. it's taking place between season 1 and season 2, with different perspectives and more book!accurate characters.

that's it from me for now! before i continue rambling on. chapter one; Sunday 27th.

╰⪼ thank you for reading!