#Def plays into my fear of death

[grungyhimonoonna]

It was just the birthday of both of my exes who have passed away now. Happy heavenly birthday bbs. You're both in my heart forever. 🤍🤍🤍

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧ 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗿𝗲 𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱'𝘀 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 ♡₊˚⚜️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 sukuna is a mafia kingpin 𖥔 teasing grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 pregnancy trope 𖥔 he'll burn the world for you 𖥔 "my wife" 𖥔 he's a great dad 𖥔 mentions of miscarriage 𖥔 mentions of physical and sexual assault 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he loves eating you out 𖥔 anal play (yup.) 𖥔 last warning: mdni!

: ̗̀➛ words: 6.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: no bc i love you all so much. it's insane how much you guys have supported my toji fanfic & and my nanami fanfic. i'll def be writing a part two to both of those masterpieces (yes i have self-confidence). as someone who's always imagined sukuna as a mafia leader, i decided to say fuck it and write it. please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy! (p.s. pregnancy trope>>>)

You never thought you'd be married to Sukuna Ryomen, let alone carrying his kid again. Yet, four years deep into this forced marital mess, thanks to your father owing a hefty debt to the kingpin of the underworld crime syndicate, here you were.

“Look at you, Mrs. Ryomen, radiant as ever!” chirped one of your husband’s associate's wives. You had studied a name list last night, but it all escaped your memory after you passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Sukuna wasn’t keeping a hawk's eye on you like he used to when you first stepped into the public eye. Gone were the days of his glares if you messed up a name. Never once had he laid a finger on you at home, despite your assumption that forgetfulness would earn you a beating.

“Thank you." You forced a smile at the woman, your patience waning as the mayor's birthday party stretched on. It was almost the end of the night, and your feet were protesting from traipsing around in flats. All you craved at that moment was your bed, pronto.

The woman and her husband attempted to capture Sukuna's lukewarm attention through political discussions and expressing gratitude for the illegal artillery shipments from your husband's syndicate. They made no effort to acknowledge your existence by his side.

Your hand rested on your belly, a mere eight months into your pregnancy—a new personal record. The first time you conceived, Sukuna demanded an heir, and you willingly agreed, knowing that the child would provide some distraction in the expansive estate that felt like a cage. Unfortunately, at the two-month mark, you experienced a miscarriage.

Feeling Sukuna's knuckles lightly tapping your back, you straightened your posture momentarily, only to slouch again almost instantly. It was futile. The discomfort of your swollen and cramped belly made it nearly impossible to maintain a poised demeanor in the midst of the party.

Disobeying Sukuna meant facing inevitable death, a fact well understood in his dangerous domain, and you had never dared to challenge that.

"Let's go," Sukuna said, cutting through the incessant chatter of the couple. He didn't grasp your hand, only your fragile wrist, a gesture you didn't mind. Yours was not a typical love; he, Sukuna Ryomen, a most feared monster in the criminal underworld, and you, a sacrificial lamb, a trophy collected three years ago, a means to his heir.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you exited the venue, heading towards the limousine surrounded by fifteen armed guards under Sukuna's command. "I'm so sorry—"

"Get in the car." He held the door open for you, signaling his guards to disperse and take their positions in the Jeeps parked behind.

Silencing yourself, you cautiously settled into the back seat, and Sukuna joined you, slamming the door with force. His anger was discernible, and the memory of that night, losing your second unborn child to a kidnapping, plagued your dreams. You were uncertain if the nightmares were about Sukuna's wrath upon finding you or the horrors his enemies inflicted on you during your 48-hour captivity.

Sukuna noticed your struggle with the seatbelt and contorted his body toward you. Your fingers released their grip on the belt, allowing him to pull it taut and secure it snugly around your midsection. Click. He withdrew, distancing himself from your face that had been mere inches away.

“Tedious fucking party, anyway,” Sukuna grumbled, his left ankle casually perched on his right kneecap. He always adopted a specific posture, his elbow leaning against something, cheek resting on his knuckles, and his narrow eyes a rich brown that could almost pass for a deep shade of red. He exuded an unrelenting air of intimidation.

"I agree," you unintentionally voiced your thoughts, earning a sidelong glance from him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

His attention barely lingered on you as the car roared to life. You breathed a sigh of relief, stretching out your legs and leaning your head back against the seat's shoulder. Your palm absentmindedly traced circles on your belly. Goosebumps peppered your skin from the frigidness in the car, stirring an involuntary shudder.

"Turn on the heater," Sukuna ordered the driver in his smooth, languid baritone.

"Yes, sir."

As warmth gradually surrounded the backseat, you hummed a small "Thank you" and closed your eyes, enjoying a few moments of peace.

Disorientation clouded your senses, and you dispelled it by rubbing your eyes and using your knuckles to prop yourself against the headboard. A couple of contractions ripped through your gut, causing you to groan and hiss through gritted teeth.

The enormous room was devoid of Sukuna, its black silk sheets hinting at the luxury covering you. The fireplace casted a warm glow, and a soft, dim golden light spilled from the lamp onto the floor.

In the first year of your marriage and pregnancy, your bedroom was located three doors away. You were tended to by on-site nurses and doctors, surrounded by an entourage of maids for company. Days were spent aimlessly wandering the estate, occasionally crossing paths with one of Sukuna's mistresses, their curious smirks evident as they exited his room.

The second year brought a subtle shift. You still slept alone, but now there was a surprising addition of joining Sukuna for dinner. Positioned diagonally from him, an air of restrained silence hung above your head. Yet, between the utensils clattering and quiet chewing, Sukuna's glances toward you and your five-month-old belly revealed your anticipation for the impending arrival of your child.

One of your maids had been instructed to lure you into a private conversation in the back garden, and before you could react, a group of men clad in black drugged you and forcibly removed you from the cage, which in that cruel moment felt like a sanctuary.

Most details of the monstrosities forced upon you in that warehouse have been compressed by your mind—the merciless physical and sexual assault endured for hours. They callously bragged that raping Sukuna's Ryomen's wife was a personal victory, cackling like bloodthirsty hyenas as you bled from your legs. In the thick of your suffering, you lost your second child in a pool of your own sweat and feces.

When Sukuna discovered you, when he annihilated every man along with their bloodlines, you were left as a mere shell of a woman, practically lifeless. You've existed as a walking corpse for quite some time now. Following that dreadful night, you attempted every conceivable means to end your own life—drowning, leaping out of windows, creating a makeshift noose from bed sheets and tying them around balcony railings, teetering on the edge—but every attempt proved useless. Sukuna consistently interfered at the last minute, sweeping in and enveloping you in his arms as you wept until unconsciousness claimed you for days.

Therapy provided some relief, as did the medications. Sukuna heightened security measures tenfold, keeping only those workers who served during his father and grandfather's reigns. He moved your belongings into his bedroom, sleeping by your side with a gun beneath his pillow. There were times when you would doze off in the library while reading, only to wake up in his room.

Two years seemed like an eternity in the slow process of healing, both physically and mentally, from the torment that had befallen you. Stepping into the garden was a reminder of the progress you had made, yet the hope that blossomed in your womb now filled you with a different kind of fear.

You needed your baby. Even if it meant risking your own life during childbirth. The only thing that mattered was the precious life you carried within you, and as long as your baby took that first breath, you'd welcome death with open arms.

Sukuna's bedroom door creaked open, revealing his presence.

Mink-colored tendrils of hair obscured his eyes, disheveled from their usual spiked stance. The stark white of his dress shirt was marred by the unmistakable stains of someone else's blood, and a gun dangled casually from his grasp. In the subdued lighting, his facial markings, inked tattoos designed to mask the scars of his tormented childhood, appeared more ominous than ever.

Without acknowledging your ogling, he briskly entered his bathroom.

You slipped back under the covers, pulling the comforter up to your chin, soothing the sharp twinges in your belly. The rhythmic sounds of his shower served as a background melody. Sukuna took an eternity to freshen up, nearly two hours passing before the door finally creaked open. You had kept a close eye on it, lost in your own world and trying to ignore the persistent contractions. No complaints, though – you were at the eight-month mark, and this baby was determined to make its entrance into the world.

Draped in a sleek black silk robe, Sukuna strolled toward his side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. "Why are you still awake?" He tilted his head as if studying an unfamiliar creature. He always regarded you with a curious interest, unearthing some new revelations about you.

"Cramps," you whispered in the dimness, even though the first rays of morning sun began to seep through the curtains.

Sukuna strolled to his side of the bed, lifting the comforter to settle down. "Do you take any medication for it?"

You shook your head. "I don't want to take any risks."

"So you're just going to endure the night with a migraine?"

Your husband seemed oblivious to the concept of cramps. He hadn't bothered to educate himself about your pregnancy or even familiarize himself with basic menstrual cycle terminology. You hesitated to bring attention to his title and position, but he was, after all, born from a woman.

How could he not know?

"Answer me," Sukuna demanded, fixing you with a cold, indifferent gaze. How could two simple words carry such a heavy, intimidating weight? Your entire body shuddered, and you swore you felt your child kick in response to his attitude, causing you to clench your teeth.

"Cramps . . . are something women experience during their period and pregnancy. They're sharp, unpredictable pains in your gut and back," you explained, finding a position that eased the cramps and calmed your baby. "It's worse when you're pregnant—like someone attached a taser to your body without a switch to turn it off."

Sukuna's brow furrowed, and he seemed pissed off as if he held a vendetta against cramps. "Will it have any consequence on the baby?"

You were really trying to be patient. “The baby is the reason why.” 

He ran his hands wearily down his face, casting a stern gaze at the ceiling, his breath quickening. "Is there any way to relieve the pain? Besides medication?"

“Well,” you said slowly, “when I first started menstruating, my mother used to place a warm rubber bottle on my stomach.” The recollection of nights spent groaning, tossing, and turning with your hand clutching your stomach brought a smile. After her passing in high school, you found yourself managing the household, dealing with your drug-addicted father, and taking care of yourself all on your own.

"Come here."

Startled, you shifted your focus to your husband, who raised the comforter like a makeshift tent with one arm. "You don't have to—"

"Come here."

With caution, you edged closer, lying flat and holding your breath. Sukuna propped himself up on one elbow, resting his temple on his knuckles while adjusting the blanket up to your neck. His left hand glided up your sweater and settled on your swollen belly.

An immediate sense of relaxation cocooned you, your eyes closing as warmth radiated from his palm onto your skin. The sensation passed through to your child, who quit kicking within seconds, seemingly recognizing their father's touch. It dawned on you that Sukuna hadn't touched you since you conceived, and you hadn't realized the volume of your misery and longing until this moment.

"Feeling better?"

"Mm-hmm." You nestled your face close to his neck. All you managed to whisper, your voice tinged with brokenness, was, "Please, don't let go."

Sukuna responded only with silence.

You'd woken up screaming bloody-mary.

The security team and maids hurried into the bedroom, their eyes widening at the sight of blood staining your clothes and darkening the black sheets. In a swift response, the doctor and her team of nurses rushed in while Uraume, Sukuna's trusted aide, calmly called for your husband from a corner of the room.

In the heat of your excruciating screams, five nurses attempted to guide your breathing and encourage you to follow a pattern. Guards carefully lifted you into a sitting position, and Uraume decisively cleared the room of all men. The doctor swiftly removed your sweatpants and panties, covering your lower region with a sheet, and instructing you to push.

Your body felt numb, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and a black vignette closing in on your vision. Your head swayed left and right, on the verge of dropping if not for Uraume's unwavering support. Despite the intensity of your grip, they held steady, their only reaction being a stream of muttered curses amid the chaotic scene.

"I can't—Uraume—"

"You will, Mrs. Sukuna. You have come this far. Giving up now is not an option."

"I don't want to die," you whispered akin to a prayer.

"You won't," they softly replied. "He won't allow it."

Uraume, a silent figure from the past, now stood by your side, offering support and encouragement. The connection with them had been minimal, limited to the formalities of a marital contract signing. They had simply muttered, “He’s not half as evil as they say,” to you before packing up the papers and leaving you in the room with Sukuna.

The room buzzed with affirmations, reassuring you that they could see the baby's head and urging you to push with each breath.

The sound of the baby's cries stirred you awake.

You snapped to attention at the sweet, reassuring sound, realizing that your baby was close to arrival—alive and ready to face the world. Following two heartbreaking miscarriages and the pain endured as Sukuna's wife, the bearer of his lost children, you were finally on the cusp of welcoming motherhood.

"Two more pushes!" The doctor's voice cut through the air.

"AGH!" A guttural growl escaped your throat as you grappled with the harsh sensations. Your body trembled, and waves of fiery discomfort overflowed through your core as you exerted yourself to bring your baby into the world.

"Come on," Uraume whispered. "You can do this, Mrs. Ryomen."

You let out a powerful cry and strained with effort, bringing forth new life. The baby and you were crying at the exact wavelength, competing against who could be louder. The nurses and attendants, familiar faces from your previous pregnancies, clasped their hands in prayer for a safe delivery. Tears of relief streamed down your face as you pushed for your own well-being.

"Blanket!" the doctor urgently called out, prompting a nurse to rush over with a soft cream blanket. "Push!"

With a final, determined push, the weight lifted suddenly.

The slippery sensation of delivering the child and the immediate release of pressure left you slumping against Uraume's shoulder. As they laid you down, the doctor directed the staff to tend to you while the baby's cries filled the air.

The doctor approached through your hazy sight and gently laid your newborn on your chest. Overwhelmed with emotion, you showered your baby with kisses, tears of joy streaming down your face. Your little one was here. They were finally here.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Ryomen," the doctor announced as the cries of your newborn gradually faded into the background. "It's a girl."

You drifted into unconsciousness.

The soft cadence of Sukuna's voice filtered through the foggy boundaries of sleep, causing you to slowly come back to life.

“Why is this brat refusing to sleep?” you heard your husband grumbling.

With a laborious effort, you rubbed your eyes, summoning the strength to lift your head from the comfort of the pillow. The scene unfolded before you—Sukuna, the most feared criminal, pacing at the foot of his bed, cradling your crying newborn daughter in his arms, unsure of how to handle his little foe.

"What do you want? Food? You don’t have any teeth yet, little miscreant."

"Sukuna . . ." you whispered, a gentle plea for attention.

Your husband's gaze snapped in your direction, relief washing over his features as he realized you were conscious. "Thank fuck." Moving swiftly, he approached and took a seat at the edge of the bed.

His brown-reddish eyes lingered on the delicate scene unfolding before him—the intertwining of your index finger with your daughter's tiny, rattling fist. A calming magic seemed to stem from your touch, instantly soothing the cries to soft sniffles.

"Already playing favorites, I see," he remarked with a teasing tone, a wry smile on his lips.

"I have to feed her." Your voice was hoarse from the relentless screaming during the delivery. A series of deadly wheezes followed when you coughed, frightening your baby once more. Her cries started again, blending with the impatient curses of her father.

He gently placed her in the cradle, his strength used to prop you up against the headboard. The room carried the scent of coconut soap, your body freshly washed, the sheets beneath you brand-new. You were also dressed in a new set of panties and a nursing bra.

"Are you sure you have enough nutrients in your body to feed her?" Sukuna asked, holding your baby girl as you unclipped the front left cup. Rather than wasting your breath on a response, you focused on helping your daughter latch onto your nipple.

You winced once she caught it, then melted back as she started drinking. “I’m fine,” you finally answered. “Body . . . hurts.”

"No shit. You pushed an eight pound baby out of you." Despite the crude sarcasm in his tone, Sukuna tenderly caressed his knuckles over his daughter's cheek.

"Did you want . . . a girl?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, adjusting your baby onto your lap. "I assumed you'd prefer a boy as an heir."

"I'm not my father," he declared, putting an end to the conversation. "She's got your eyes."

Your daughter gazed up at you with a curiosity remarkably similar to yours. You smiled down at her, grateful she had made it. Grateful that Sukuna wasn't throwing a tantrum over the gender of your child but instead cupping the top of his baby girl's head and brushing his thumb across her forehead.

“You got a name for her?” Sukuna asked.

“Yes, but we can brainstorm if you don’t—”

“You carried the child, you birthed her, you will name her. Whatever it is, I agree.”

Something dead stirred inside your chest. Swallowing hard, you shared the chosen name, "Nobara."

He nodded in approval, and as he pronounced her name, Nobara responded with a wailing cry. "Her tantrums will be the fucking death of me." Sukuna took her into his arms again.

"Support the back of her head and rub her back. She needs to be burped," you advised.

He grunted but followed your instructions. Moments later, a tiny burp from Nobara made you chuckle, earning a slight eye roll and a hint of a smile from him.

"I'll take the next few weeks off to help you recover from the aftermath and the stitches," he announced, rising and walking towards his work desk, where he settled into a large leather chair, cradling your newborn.

You nodded appreciatively, easing yourself down.

"Oh, before I forget," Sukuna mentioned as you settled into bed, "I've arranged a new doctor for you."

“Did you fire the last one?”

“I fired at her, yes.”

Your eyes widened. "What? Why would you—? What?"

He shrugged, cradling the back of your newborn's head. "She suggested an additional stitch for you. Said it would make things 'tighter' down there for me."

Your face flushed. “So . . . you killed her?”

"Yes," he confirmed, his gaze fixed on you with those penetrating eyes, "I don't need a mere doctor questioning whether I'd still enjoy having sex with my wife after she gave birth to our child."

“But . . . you have mistresses. Don’t you?”

He lifted a brow. “I had mistresses up until . . . ”

Up until the kidnapping.

Sukuna never spoke of the crime after he’d saved you. Instead, he expressed his commitment through actions: sleeping beside you, teaching you how to handle a handgun, keeping a protective arm around your waist at social gatherings. Occasionally, you swore you felt him run his fingers through your hair as you slept.

"I wouldn't mind if you did," you admitted, a voice inside contradicting your words. "Given what my body has been through, I would find myself repulsive for pleasure, too. I understand if you feel disgusted."

Sukuna halted the gentle strokes on your daughter's back and straightened up. "What the fuck did you just say?"

An icy shiver ran through you, momentarily numbing the pain. "I-I just assumed—"

"You know, you make a lot of assumptions about me, wife. It gets under my fucking skin that you'd ever believe I could raise a hand on you. Day and night, every hour and minute, even now, in your presence, my mind is consumed with ways to kill the fear that's taken root in you.” He was infuriated yet vulnerable, with Nobara sleeping peacefully on his shoulder. “Everyone I’ve ever met has done nothing but fear me like I’m a curse on their soul, and while I’m flattered of the monster they’ve painted me out to be, I refuse to let my wife and daughter see me in that light. Do I make myself clear?"

You . . . nodded. 

“And for your information, I had mistresses up until I married you.”

You took in a sharp breath, processing the confession. "But those women—"

"Spies," he clarified, his voice low and steady. "They operate undercover in my clubs, keeping an eye out for potential threats. I haven't fucked anyone since the day I put that ring on your finger." He offered a small, almost imperceptible apology to your baby for cursing.

"Oh."

All you ever heard were twisted stories about the Sukuna Ryomen, a young man who, against all odds, slaughtered his own father to ascend the throne of the underworld criminal realm. Whispers spoke of a chilling childhood, where a mother's desperate attempt to suffocate her son in his sleep. The scars etched into his skin, concealed beneath a tapestry of dark markings, bore witness to the brutal initiation rites inflicted by vengeful uncles. In his domain, everyone prayed to see him buried six feet under.

Which is why you felt sympathy for your husband. He was lonely. Too lonely. Despite all the riches and influence surrounding him, he was stuck in a fortress where danger lurked around every corner. He had no friends, no one he could truly confide in—except perhaps Uraume. Opening up about his emotions wasn't in his nature. He kept the tough exterior, convinced that being a monster, a curse, was the only path to earning respect and recognition.

But just now, when had cut himself open in front of you and bled a human color, he was Sukuna. Your husband. The one who just became a father. A man wrapped in a comfortable robe with his hair combed down and his skin clean of dirt and blood as he held his daughter, as he gazed at you like you two were the only people meant fighting for in his treacherous world.

Sukuna noticed your silence, tuned in to your steady breaths, and lowered his lashes. "You'll ask me to touch you. Not just for the sake of having another child but for your own pleasure. If I'm not around and you need me, you will call, and I'll rush home. If this little brat gives you any trouble, I'll handle it. Hell, maybe I'll let her in on a bit of the family business for a head start."

"No," you murmured, absorbing everything he'd just said. "Not now. I want her to enjoy a proper childhood."

"Is that a demand?" Sukuna tilted his head slightly, another method of asserting authority. Yet, after all he'd shared about dropping everything for you, about making love to you, the fear in you started to dissolve bit by bit.

"Yes," you affirmed. "It's a demand."

A small smirk played on Sukuna's lips as he rose from his spot, circled the bed, and settled down beside you, with Nobara resting peacefully on his chest. Summoning all your strength, you turned to run your fingers over your baby's soft cheek and tiny, parted lips.

“She sleeps like you, Mr. Ryomen.”

“Sukuna,” he corrected, his arm covering his eyes as he breathed with a slightly open mouth. “My wife will call me Sukuna.”

Teasingly, you asked, “Is that a demand, Sukuna?”

His arm shifted low, and his reddish-brown eyes softened, stealing your breath. “Only from my wife and daughter.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, Sukuna.”

In response, he wrapped his strong arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his two girls snuggled against his body.

In the beginning, you knew you didn't belong in the hell Sukuna ruled. Your father's mistakes, pilfering drug shipments and peddling them locally, had sealed both his fate and yours. With thoughts of fleeing the disgrace your father brought upon your family, you had started packing, desperate to escape the clutches of your old man.

The following night, Sukuna and his henchmen barged into your cramped apartment, wreaking havoc on every piece of furniture. Rocking in the corner of your room, Sukuna casted his shadow over you like the God of Death, bathed in your father’s blood.

Crouching down to your eye level, he tipped your chin up, leaving a splotch of blood. He used the collar of your sweater to wipe it away. In a hushed confession, you revealed the hidden drugs under the sink and floorboards, along with your father's buyer list folded in the cereal boxes. Sukuna grinned and ordered his underlings to retrieve the concealed items. Then, the chilling question hung in the air: "Are you going to kill me, too?"

"I'm tempted," Sukuna replied, "but not to kill you." His gaze fixated on your left hand, and he raised it, studying your ring finger. "You will pay for your father's crimes with your life." He held your hand in front of your face. "You will take my last name." His smirk widened, revealing perfect teeth. "Isn't that the cruelest form of death, love?"

Unconsciousness claimed you then, but after seven years of marriage, enduring unimaginable hardships, and finally welcoming a baby into the world, your answer was clear. The true torment wasn't caused by the man you once perceived as a monster but rather by his enemies.

"How am I supposed to know if Mr. Munchkin wants more tea? He's a fucking stuffed toy. Can't talk, you know?"

"Sukuna," you warned, perched on the armrest while busy crocheting baby socks for your little one on the way.

Nobara, wielding a rubber, squeaky hammer, stood up from her seat, giving her father a bonk on the head each time he let out a curse. And you often heard the squeak of the hammer around the house.

Nobara's tiara was slightly askew, frustration evident in her curled lips and bared teeth. She was growing increasingly irritated with her father's lack of understanding about the rules of her tea party. "Mr. Munchkin wants tea, Papa. Give him tea! Give him tea! Give him—"

"Fine, I surrender. Here, you little bastard. Take the whole fu—damn pot." He shoved the plastic teapot towards Mr. Munchkin, a well-loved cat stuffed toy you had gifted Nobara on her last birthday. "Happy?"

"Cup," she insisted, pointing at the tea cup in front of Mr. Munchkin.

Sukuna sighed and poured the water from the kettle into the pink plastic cup.

"Me too," Nobara added, settling back in her kiddie chair. Sukuna had barely taken his seat before she had him on the floor. "Hurry!"

"May I pour for the other toys first, Your Highness?"

"Not toys. Friends."

Sukuna shot you a helpless glare, eliciting a chuckle from you. He filled the table with tea, and Nobara, holding her small cup, clinked it with her father's, followed by her collection of stuffed animals. Sukuna reluctantly mimicked the gesture. Instead of sipping the tea, he downed it like a shot.

“Papa!”

“Sukuna, come on.”

There wasn’t any winning with his girls.

Sukuna reluctantly poured himself another cup, sipping it with an air of royalty that mirrored a princess. Despite his resistance to the make-believe tea party, you couldn't ignore the genuine affection he showed toward his daughter. He would nod attentively when one of the stuffed animals "spoke," laughed along with Nobara, and even beautified himself with a glittering tiara, a feathered pink scarf, and deep purple-painted nails.

Sukuna was, without a doubt, a fantastic father. It came as no surprise that Nobara's first word was 'Brat.'

That night, you kissed your daughter goodnight and tucked her into her bed. Sukuna joked that he’d spent every last bit of his wealth decorating the brat’s room, filling it with the latest toys, and stacking her closet with whatever clothes she laid her finger or eyes on. She was truly the princess of her father’s heart.

"She's asleep," you informed him.

"I'll give her a kiss in a minute. Just need to finish this," Sukuna replied, pouring over his documents.

Letting out a sigh, you shuffled over, rolled back his chair, and settled onto his lap. He continued reading as you wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your cheek on his shoulder, peering at him through your lashes.

"I want you," you murmured.

Sukuna paused, lowering his gaze to meet your cheeky smile. "Later."

"It's late."

"I have to finish—" He halted as you began kissing his neck, moving up to his jaw and cheeks, tracing the contours of his face tattoos.

"Please, Sukuna," you whispered near his ear.

How could he refuse you anything when you appeared so stunning, radiating with the joy of expecting another child in your four-month-old belly?

“Take off your robe and get on the bed. Spread your legs for me.” He gave your ass a little smack as you happily skipped away, shedding your clothes and clearing the bed to settle in. With a grin, you opened your legs, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Sukuna stood up from his seat, loosening his robe as he did. He sighed, watching the moisture forming between your legs. Pregnancy seemed to heighten your lusts, and Sukuna was always ready to fulfill your needs.

“What pretty, wet cunt,” he whispered softly, leaning in to kiss your chest, trailing down to your stomach, your hips, your calling clit. 

Over the years, you realized Sukuna enjoyed pleasuring you more than the opposite. He feasted on you like a starved man, whether it happened in the back of the limo, in a guest room during a party, or just minutes before a crucial meeting in his office. He insisted it was his way of relaxing, often pleading with you to spend a full hour on his face as he ate you out and drank every drop of your release. It had turned into a daily routine for him. And for you.

“Oh, Sukuna, yes, yes. Right there—ah!” Your back arched off the mattress when his tongue drove into your hole, flicking and exploring your clamping walls. His mouth was latched to your pussy, sucking it in, his cheeks hollowing rapidly. Your fingers tightened in his hair, hips voluntarily grating against his face, his sharp nose rubbing over your swollen clit. 

Sukuna drew back as you came down with a muted cry behind your hand and lapped at the flow of your juices pouring out of you. His lips shone as he leaned over and gently kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself from his tongue. “If I don’t fuck you now, I will die.” 

“Hurry, then.” 

Sukuna pushed himself inside you, and that first wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you sank your nails in his back and cried out heavenwards. He groaned and grunted, thrusts growing speed, his plump balls smacking against your ass. You loved that he fucked harder, faster, driving you to the brink of ruination. 

After you'd healed from Nobara's birth, he would always make sure to get at least ten orgasms from you. From midnight to early morning, he'd fuck you in every possible position. But his favorite was always missionary, where he could have his eyes on you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, telling him it’s too much, he's too thick, all while using your heels to draw him in even closer.

Sukuna curled his arm around your waist and sat you up on his lap, thrusting up into you as you coiled yourself around his neck. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your cunt was made for me, love. Your cunt was fucking made for me.” His hand threaded to the back of your head, grasping your hair and drawing your face back so you were looking him in the eyes without wavering, without bowing your head. He needed to know you didn’t fear him when he fucked you like this. It was an unspoken check-in, and when you smiled drunkenly, only then did he let you return to embracing him. 

“Are you close?” you whispered. 

“Not yet. I want to come in your ass.” 

You shivered despite how scalding and sweaty your bodies were. “Do it.” 

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Please.” 

Sukuna dragged you off his cock so you could get on all-fours, raising your ass up for him. He’s only ever been in your sacred spot a handful of times but never finished himself inside it. It appeared that tonight you were both a little extra spellbound.

Mounting himself behind you, Sukuna unfurled your ass and spit on his fingers, stroking the puckered hole. He gathered the creamy liquid dripping out of your pussy to lubricate the spot. His middle finger stretched you out, followed by his ring fingers, pushing in and out until he knew for sure you were prepared for him. 

Sukuna’s steel-hard cock pushed into your tiny hole. The sight of it expanding to swallow his girthy size almost made him come right there and then. He started to move in sluggish movement, grabbing onto your waist. His hips cruised, brushing against your ass, making you impatient and push yourself back. 

“Understood.” He chuckled and dug his nails into your skin, dragging out to the tip and shoving himself inside. Your face pressed into your pillows, crying and trembling as he abused your asshole non-stop. “You’re taking me so well, my love. Oh, fuck, fuck.” He rutted into you like a beast, claiming your body, rubbing your clit from the front, spanking your ass, brandishing you over and over again. 

You both snapped in unison. 

Sukuna sagged over your spine as he bucked in every last bit of his sloppy seed. His lips kissed your shoulder blades, holding you up by one arm. Gently, he pulled out, his cock growing floppy until you flipped onto your back, hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face, belly slightly swollen, your tits larger in size, his release mingled with yours seeping out from your holes. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face like he didn’t just fuck your soul out of you. That smirk you’d come to love appeared on his lips. You reciprocated back, stretching out your arms so he could lean down and kiss you sweetly on the lips and cheeks and toss in a praise or two for what a good girl you were as he slid into you again, slower and more intimate with his game. “I fucking love you, Y/N.” 

You smiled against his lips that continuously whispered the three beautiful words and said, “I love you, too, Sukuna,” before sealing it with a long, lasting kiss.

[solkara]

❛ 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐘 , alicent hightower and rhaenyra targaryen ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , as the eldest and only heir to viserys targaryen naturally you were born with more responsibilities than you could count your sister being one of them

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , alicent hightower x male! targaryen! reader x rhaenyra targaryen

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , omg this took forever to write but I think it was worth it hehe also this is quickly becoming one of my fav headcannons to write so def gonna do at least 2-3 more parts so stay tuned !!

previous part , house of the dragon masterlist

⌗ after the death of your mother everything around you seemed to change. you stopped fooling around with rhaenyra. instead you decide to throw yourself into your duties to ignore the pain you feel. which she did not enjoy. though you couldn't bring yourself to care. your father also declared that he would not wed another. which was a silent relief for you as you did not wish to play house with a woman who wasn't your mother. but your father also said he was looking to find you a match. which brought attention to you for all the wrong reasons.

⌗ the following weeks were nothing short of painful. as women from all over the realm flocked to king's landing to throw themselves at you. in an attempt that you would take to them and make them your wife. your future queen. but truth be told none of them sparked your interest. which annoyed your father and delighted your sister. who had yet to convince your father to marry you to her. much to your relief.

⌗ now here you were. wandering the hallways in the dead of night to clear your head. you had expected there to be no one else awake at this hour but it seemed you were wrong. "my prince?" and there stood alicent. who you had not spoken to since the funeral. as it seemed that whenever the two of you were within distance of each other rhaenyra would step in and drag the other girl away.

⌗ "alicent what are you doing awake at this hour?" you asked slightly surprised to see the hightower girl wandering around at this hour. "I could not find sleep my prince" and for a slight moment. you wondered what could be troubling such a seemingly unshakeable woman. but you decided not to press the matter.

⌗ the silence lay over the two of you like a blanket. comfortable and soft. as the two of you ended up sitting next to each other on the floor. until you decided to speak. and from their the two of you spoke freely with each. freer than perhaps either of you had been before. as you two talked about everything and anything.

⌗ sharing everything from deepest secrets and fears to future plans and aspirations. and though this was the first full conversation the two of you had it felt like you had known each other forever. and it showed during the following moons as the two of you spent more and more time together. much to rhaenyra's dismay. but not even she could get in the way. as it was clear between you that the chemistry you shared with alicent was nothing short of electric.

⌗ and your father began to notice too. as one day after a small council meeting once again brought up the conversation of suitors and marriage. much to your annoyance. "and what are your thoughts on the lady alicent?" he asked watching your facial expressions very closely. as your features softened at the mention of the girl you had become so close with.

⌗ "what of her?" you asked unsure why your new friend was being brought into the conversation. "I think she would make a good wife for you as I can't help but notice the two of you have gotten closer in recent moons" you couldn't help but look at you father with a look nothing short of bewilderment.

⌗ alicent. as your wife. the thought had never crossed your mind but now it certainly had. as you wouldn't deny that she was beautiful as well as polite and kind. to you at least. you would be honoured to have her as your wife. but the last thing you wanted to do was force her into something she does not want. as her heart may already be taken by another. the thought made your heart clench slightly. as your chest was filled with an unfamiliar feeling. jealousy.

⌗ "I have talked to her father and he thinks it will be a wonderful match what do you think my boy?" your father asked once again. "may I have time to think about it father?" to which the king nodded. and with that you left to see alicent. to know that if this union were to happen. would she be happy with it or not. if she would hate you for the rest of your life or not. and you prayed to every god that ever existed that the answer was no. as the thought of her hating you. hurt in ways you didn't know you could be.

⌗ arriving in front of alicent's room. you were short of breath. knocking on the door. you enter once you hear a small "come in" from the other side. entering with haste you were then stopped in your tracks by the beauty that had been your rock for the last moons. the only person you felt understood you truly. "what's the matter is something wrong?"

⌗ "our fathers want to marry us off to each other" to which the girls expression went from concerned to shocked. "and what did you say?" alicent asked her eyes shining with something familiar. hope. "nothing yet I want to marry you but I came here because I wanted to ask you if you wanted this as I will not force you into a marriage you do not want beacuse I do not want you to hate me" you blurted out. now barely holding back tears.

⌗ approaching you quickly alicent cupped your face with her soft dainty hands. "I could never hate you" she said looking you dead in the eyes. "I too wish to marry you and it would make me the happiest woman on earth to be able to call myself your wife" and with that the two of you crash your lips onto each other in a passionate kiss. and once you broke apart the two of you walked hand in hand to your fathers to tell them the good news. to bad not everyone could be happy for you.

[archiveofvirtue]

ᝰ.ᐟ BF SAM WINCHESTER ⸻ head canons

notes / ahh..sam is so bf coded im gonna rip all my hair out, yea so basically sam being all cutesy and in love with u, sfw version.. for now at least iykyk!

ʚ he is incredibly intuitive and picks up on even the smallest changes in ur mood or behavior, he’s the kind of guy who will ask if something's bothering u, even before u realize it yourself

ʚ he would be all about taking care of u in practical ways, weather it's making sure u are eating well or fixing something around the house, anything really..

ʚ bc of his past traumas, he sometimes worries he's not enough, so he appreciates reassurance in the relationship, offering the same in return by always reminding u how much you mean to him

ʚ def big on CUDDLES, or like any kind of touch that keeps u close to him, even better when he gets to be the little spoon while u play with his hair.. he loves that shit

ʚ he has a knack for remembering the smallest details about u, like getting u this one book u have mentioned only ONCE, and that basically sums up what kind of person he is

ʚ due to him being an early bird it would only be reasonable for him to wake u up with ur favorite coffee every morning, knowing u can be quite grumpy after just waking up

ʚ after a long day, he would lie beside u in bed and literally talk about anything and everything, from silly memories to deep fears.. these vulnerable moments make u feel even closer to him

ʚ he loves recommending books to u and often leaves them by ur nightstand with notes like, "I think you'll like this one," or "This one reminded me of you."

ʚ he is so tall that he sometimes bends down a little to be closer to ur eye level when u are talking, and u think it’s adorable

ʚ when he is feeling especially tender, he would reach up and gently stroke ur cheek with his thumb, mostly during quiet moments, like right before u fall asleep or when he's just appreciating having u close

ʚ this man is so obsessed with having u on his lap while he is doing research, placing soft kisses onto ur shoulder or neck from time to time, basically having u around 24/7

ʚ he ADORES holding hands with u, especially when u hold his big one with both of yours

ʚ u both know that he can sometimes be closed off, but u have a patient, gentle approach that helps him open up and show his vulnerability

yayaya soft bf sam is just so.. 🎀

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @beausling @nuemanfilms @sammyluvr @samwinchesterswifu @samsaffair @angelicjackles @nxptvn @rubyvhs @seasons-of-death @starkeysprincess

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I HAVE A REQUEST THAT HAS BEEN HAUNTING MY DREAMS (in a good way.)

Luke Castellan sleeping with (and lowkey manipulating) Chris’s gf so she’ll join them on the princess andromeda. (Chris would def not be able to convince anyone to do anything without Luke’s help tbh)

omg I LUV THISSS ?? all characters r 18 + 💗 💗

𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸ℯ𝓈𝓈 𝒜𝓃𝒹𝓇ℴ𝓂ℯ𝒹𝒶

Warnings: mentions of hooking up, manipulation, dark!luke

A million thoughts ran in your head as you laid down next to him, you shook your head to yourself. This was bad.

You slept with your boyfriends half brother, who was also a traitor to the camp you were currently in. It wasn’t looking good for you at all.

You pulled the covers over your body, not even wanting to look at Luke. You’ve known him for a while now, and you’d admit it, you had a crush on him when you were younger.

But now you were with Chris.

“Luke-“ you began, turning to look at him. He was already looking at you when you turned.

“I want you to know something about Chris.” He told you, interrupting you before you could talk.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“He’s a spy. For me. I mean, why do you think he’s been avoiding you for a little now?”

Your jaw dropped, you didn’t know how to reply. That made so much more sense.

His face contorted into a sick smile, his head leaning against the pillows. “I want you to join us.”

“No, Luke.” You immediately stood up, shaking your head as you looked around from your clothes. “I told you once, and I’ll tell you again, I can’t.”

He stood up as well, putting on his boxers before standing in front of the door that you were about to reach for.

“Move, Luke.”

“Come with us.” He repeated, his hand going to your jaw, lightly tracing over your skin. His touch was soft, gentle, as if you were glass he would break.

You shook your head, heart racing as you stared up at the boy. “No.”

He still had a smile on his face, his thumb moved towards the center of your face, his skin pulling down your bottom lip. You trembled in fear at the man in front of you.

“You can be free. Away from the restraints of the gods and the camp. You can be with us.”

“I don’t want to be, Luke.” You said his name shakily.

“Think about it,” he spoke, pulling his hand away for your face, squinting his eyes as he walked closer towards you. “No siblings, no kids, you’ll be on the winning side of the war. It’ll just be me, and you.”

“Does Chris know about this?”

“He’s the one who suggested we recruit you. He didn’t say how.” He shrugged.

You let out a shaky exhale.

“C’mon… you know you want to.”

He had you backed up into the wall now, your legs feeling like they were gonna give out.

“Who are the ones who always mistreated you? Huh?” He questioned. “Who are the ones who never helped you or anyone else? Who are the ones that,” he laughed, “when you were in the infirmary, on your death bed, didn’t help? Who, y/n?”

“The gods.” You said, your voice a whisper as you came to the realization, you looked down at your shoes.

“Exactly. Now you’re getting it. Y/n, do you really want to be on their side? No. Kronos- he’ll give you anything you could possibly fuckin’ want.”

You swallowed the lump you had in your throat, he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.

“So, what’s it gonna be, y/n?” He was playing with your feelings. He knew you liked him, and he used that to his advantage. Of course you didn’t need to know that.

“I’ll join you.” You told him quietly, he smiled again, leaning in to kiss you.

[gunnrblze]

My little COD Ghosts sexy time/kink head cannons. (I’m ovulating, just bear with me, I think I lost the plot like 9 times)

My husband Hesh is rather vanilla in bed, but has a couple kinda oddball things (oddball to him lol) he’s fantasized about. It’s still something on the more tame side of kink, but I like to think his favorite kind of sex is romantic missionary but he also kinda wants to spank you sometimes or yap about getting you pregnant (whether you even can, want too, etc, doesn’t matter as long as you’re into it). He may or may not even admit it, but it plagues the inner corners of his mind (he’s shy methinks). He tries to hold back his noise, but if he’s desperate enough the man is VOCAL (he gets very desperate lol). Also down to try most positions, preferably if he can still see your face though. If you ever DO get pregnant by this man though, in a planned capacity, he will dick you down in a way that has you questioning how well you really know him, that dick will be FERAL!

My sweetheart Logan gets down I fear…I just know this man will have you in any room of the house, in any position. Loves to fuck you against the wall? Yeah. I think he’d also like being a little submissive sometimes. Like, tell him what to do, get a little bossy, if you catch him in the right mood he’d definitely get on his knees at the drop of a hat for you. I like to think he’s still not much of a talker during sex, but in lieu of little verbal communication, he can read your body like an open book. Soooo in tune with your reactions, it’s second nature for him to observe you like that. He can give head like it’d resurrect Christ himself though, do not let that man’s head between your legs unless you wanna ascend to heaven. (You def do.) Like a good soldier, he follows directions…

Keegan? This guy doesn’t play, he knows what he likes and he wants you to enjoy yourself too. He doesn’t see the point if it’s not mutual enjoyment, he’s gotta make you cum. I like to think he’d engage in some kink, also on the ‘tamer’ side, spanking, dirty talk, maybe a blindfold or some handcuffs here and there. I think he’d be willing to try/consider a lot of different things though if you asked. Avid pet name user, will “sweetheart” “love” “pretty/good girl/boy” you to death. Dick game is mean though, like I see him having an average amount of experience for a man his age, but he gets DOWNNN. Loves giving head, could probably bust just from watching you lose your mind over it. I’m a Keegan Russ soft dom truther.

Merrick gives me similar vibes to Keegan, except I feel like this man would secretly be a bit freaky once you guys have been intimate for a while lol. Like for a while it’s pretty conventional, but then once he’s well acquainted, he’ll manhandle and flip you in any position, order you about, whisper all kinds of shit to you… this man can yap methinks. Dirty talk comes so natural to him. (I think he has a thing for spanking too, sue me.) Naturally has that domineering energy but will lean into it more if you want. You’re absolutely his sweetheart during sex though, chronic “is this okay?” “does this feel good?” “do you like that baby?” user. Loves to praise too methinks, “you’re doing so good” “just like that” “there ya go, baby” etc etc.

Kick definitely gives me FREAK vibes, but in an almost controlled way if that makes sense? Very straightforward with it lol, like if you’ve got any kind of kink or scene fleshed out, he’s almost a little mechanical and analytical with it. Not because he isn’t connected in the moment, but because he’s SO turned on he’s observing you like you’re an act of god, a literal dog salivating at your feet, trying not to bust too quickly. Giving me that “focused but unfocused” energy. (You can’t convince me he wouldn’t like car sex too.) He can definitely have intimate, emotionally charged sex too, especially if he’s locked in with you.

Elias my beloved, he’s gotta be a sweetheart lol. I like to think him and Mrs. Walker had sweet married couple shit going on. I don’t really see him being into anything on the kinky side, but would prob dom you a little if he was in a mood. But this man can fuck ykwim? You need a soul mending experience? Get that man in your bed asap. If you two are mutually in love that dick will change your life fr, the Walker sons were made with care LMAO. (Loves finishing inside you if able, something triggers the primal ‘marking my territory’ part of his brain…)

Rorke is NASTYYY lol. This man would have the nastiest, freak sex with you, change my mind. I can see him being down to try sooo many things, like if you need that perv shit, he’s your guy. He’d def be into dom/sub things, and I can see him liking semi-public type stuff, the thrill of being seen/caught and what not. The mouth on this man is dirtyyyy, teases you relentlessly. If he loves you though, I think it sobers him a bit because he wants to worship your ass completely. Can also have slow, sappy romantic sex if the time is right. Will guide you and sweet talk you heavy. Loves getting head, and overall is a grunter lollll

[crushedsweets]

can you tell us more about what Ben's life was like before his death?? (family, friends, and so on)(and what happened to them after his death bc oh sweet sweet angst)

ben was my gateway into creepypasta and i am living for your content of him (and your cp content in general) 😭🙏🏻

i havent thought TOO deeply about this actually!! so im gonna just spout what i HAVE thought about and see what i can build while im here!

as per usual, everything is in my AU; Creeped! info in my pinned if curious. CW in this post for murder, suicide, violence, the usual

ok. from the get-go i knew ben was gonna be an only child living in the suburbs. his parents would be pretty average folks, maybe his dad is a plumber and his mom is a secretary at a dentists office . . . he's a little spoiled, considering he's an only child. doesnt do chores, always getting electronics for holidays, most of his meals are made for him. i imagine his grandparents spoil him even more, as he's their only grandkid - something about him screams no cousins either... HES GOT NOBODYYY

i specifically imagine him living in a neighborhood like this. but with tons of toys hanging out on the lawn from when he was young and his parents are too lazy/busy to toss them. all rotting under the sun cuz hes stuck inside on his games

i imagine i has a small circle of friends at school... the type to go ride bikes after school to the corner store, buy hella soda and snacks, then ride home to go play video games.

he's def a bit dorky/geeky and doesnt have a lot of friends, just hangs around at school trading pokemon cards and failing his math tests and eating cheetos.

i think ben wouldve been 'just' missing for a while, but i think that his parents would have lost their minds. organized massive search parties, gone door to door with photos of ben pleading with everyone.

its fucked up but. im thinking. bens mom knocks on the door of the man who killed ben. the man is weird, a recluse, visibly uncomfortable the second he sees her face - she's been all over the news begging for ben to come home, after all. and theres a stench, and everything about this house is just Off and dirty and gross, and the entry way has a pile of boots and slippers and sandals just sitting around - all belonging to the man - but she notices a pair of awfully familiar sneakers.

i think it would be upsetting if she saw the shoes that she bought for ben, began to stammer, the man noticed, and he goes to attack her. she screams and freaks out and barely manages to get away, the man is freaking out and gets in his truck and goes to drive off, huge police-chase ensues, and the cops raid his house. i think the man would shoot himself before the cops could get him, something that would destroy bens family to no end.

while going through his house for evidence, theyd find ben's rotting corpse in the tub - dressed up in the link gear - alongside the majoras mask catridge. and theyd begin to find other remains around the house, all belonging to missing blonde teens around the county/state.

i think its obvious the sort of turmoil and strain this would have on his family(parents+grandparents), but it would be really tough on his friends too. theyre all freshmen in highschool and there would be a ton of rumors, distasteful jokes, etc at Ben's expense - partially from his own friends not knowing how to cope, partially from strangers.

and i dont think ben would be able to witness any of this grief as its happening. OBVIOUSLY he's dead, but his spirit is trapped in the same majoras mask cartridge that ends up getting stuck in evidence.

i think he'd eventually go back to watch all the interviews, news recordings, etc that he can find. and i think he'd try to pretend it doesnt bug him. he's so beyond shitty with his emotions, even as a human - super quick to make a joke out of everything, laugh it all off, in fear of being a 'pussy' or being vulnerable or getting made fun of. cuz he was the type to make fun of other boys for the same stuff. so yk. but the outlet he'd use for his emotions would be hurting people. tormenting, 'trolling', cyberbullying, haunting people all around the nation and driving them to murder, suicide, other things. generally being Evil and thinking its all just a joke. he cant take anything serious

i dont think he'd talk about his family to the creeps. and looking at him, nobody has a damn clue who he is or why he's like That. but he'd accidentally let his last name slip in a random convo, someone would be nosy enough to google it, and the news would quickly spread around the creeps and proxies who know him. not that theyd try and address it or something, but it would 100% leave everyone a little bit like. Oh. That's really sad. esp cuz they all thought he was just an annoying little asshole

[meaningofaeons]

Hi there my pal my buddy!!! It's ya boi anon again here! ✨

I was wondering if I can go for a cat cafe visit with your local businessman scammer ✨Sampo Koski✨ on my hands, oh and also I has slight anger issues slash denial /that I have crush for Sampo/ attitude when going with him /ᐠ - ˕ -マ/ oh we gone there to play with both orange Himalayan and Abyssinian cat, ended our time with drinking hot cocoa!! 😋 ((I HOPE I WRITE IT RIGHT 😭😭😭))

I think that's all, congratulations for your 500+ followers once again (you deserve that and more ngl!!💕) and thank you so much in advance!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ not quite so slick

⊹ character(s) - sampo koski ⊹ word count - 1.0k ⊹ notes - gn!reader, fluff, silvermane guard!reader, belobog story spoilers, sampo being his dumb silly self as usual, sad pathetic pining on his end we love him here

⊹ katze's 500 follower writing cat-baret

HII!!! thank you for the sweet ask omg <3!!! you wrote it correct dw!! yes our favorite businessman def not a scammer....... huhu Σ(;Φ ω Φ) I hope you enjoy your "cat cafe date" with mr cold feet, mr koski himself !!!

Ever since the order to seal off the Underworld had been rescinded, your job had gotten a lot more hectic.

Well, that's not to say you were alone in that. Many of your fellow guards had been made to take on more work to pick up the slack after the crisis, and you were all spread thin.

However, Supreme Guardian Bronya had deigned to send you to the Underworld, of all places.

And a certain blue-haired "merchant" could not be happier about your newfound assignment.

"Well, isn't this just peachy! If it's any Silvermane Guard down here, I'd want it to be you, Y/N!"

"Enough with the flattery. I'm on shift, Sampo."

"Oh, come on, now! When do we get the opportunity to spend some quality time together like this? When the order was initially given, I was heartbroken—"

"Sampo, you were able to come to the Overworld anyways!"

"Doesn't change my feelings, my dear! I missed seeing your sweet face, and..."

You were forced to sit through hours of the infamous Mr. Koski buzzing around you.

Even when you changed positions, moving from one end of Boulder Town to the next to keep watch, the man followed you like a puppy, eager to talk your ear off and aggravate you to death.

Of course, this is just how he was. Schmoozing up to anyone he could, trying to avoid culpability for some scam or another that he ran only a few hours (and sometimes even minutes) prior.

And clearly, he was beginning to think of you as an easy mark. You silently considered making it clear that you were far from it.

But when you bumped into Natasha of Wildfire, she seemed to have a different idea on why Sampo was so insistent on staying by your side.

"He's quite obvious, isn't he?"

The lovely woman chuckled, folding her arms over her chest as she watched Sampo scamper off after another verbal lashing from you.

You knew who she was, and you were thankful of her efforts in the Underworld. However, without being properly acquainted and only knowing each other's names, you were still wary. You turned your eyes onto her, assessing her intent in approaching you before speaking up yourself.

"Yes, as much as he loves touting his skills in his trade, I fear that it's all too clear when he's trying to worm his way out of something."

The surprise on Natasha's face caught you off guard.

"...What?"

"Oh, my apologies. I just thought you knew."

"Knew? Knew what?"

The woman giggled, stifling it with a polite hand over her lips.

"Dear, he's quite smitten with you."

As much as you wanted to scoff at your words—and truthfully, a huff of disbelief did leave you—the sudden confession made you turn red as a cherry.

"That's ridiculous. He's like that with everyone he's trying to wring dry of money. Or with every Silvermane Guard. I'm no exception, he just thinks I'm easy."

Natasha smiled, clicking her tongue.

"Y/N of the guards, right?" You nodded. "I'd be remiss to not tell you the full truth, but I've never heard Sampo Koski rave about anyone as much as you. When he mentions other guards or people he's flattered, he's always very lackadaisical, if he even mentions them at all. Trust me, he has eyes for you."

You paused.

Then, you started walking away, as speedily as you could without seeming hasty.

"Y/N?"

"I-I'm going to give him a piece of my mind! If that really is true, then I'm telling him to fix his delusions this instant! Good day, Natasha!"

The woman only laughed, shaking her head and turning back to head into her clinic.

When you finally found Sampo after a few minutes of searching (truthfully, you had noticed the way you could find him quicker than any other, despite the fact that he evaded the other guards so well), he was whistling a tune, holding a bouquet in his left hand.

Right. Now that trade had opened back up between the upper and lower portions of Belobog...

You shook your head, stomping up behind the man. He turned to meet you, emerald eyes sparkling.

"Heeey, Y/N! I was just about to come find you again! So, guess what I got for y—"

"Is it true?"

His unflappable grin faltered, and he tilted his head, chuckling nervously—almost in the same way he did when a client was getting cross, but not quite.

"W-Whaddya mean? Did my favorite Silvermane Guard get some weird hearsay put into their pretty little hea—"

"I spoke with Natasha. So, is it true?"

Sampo stopped in his tracks, the barest hint of pink seeping into his cheeks as he laughed anxiously.

However, he didn't miss the way your eyes hardened, how your fist clenched as though anticipating a negative response.

He swallowed thickly.

"U-Uhm, I mean, not that I know what you're talking about exactly, but, uh—" Your brow furrowed, and Sampo rushed out his remaining sentence. "If it's what I'm thinking of, and that could be many different things—"

"Koski!"

"Yes, it's true!"

You both stood in silence, until the blue-haired con artist began rambling away.

"I thought, 'Hey, Sampo Koski is a subtle guy! Maybe that subtlety would be lost on a lovely guard like Y/N, and he oughta put his best foot forward in being upfront and obvious!' But then, you weren't quite picking up what your old friend Sampo was putting down, and—"

"Sampo Koski."

He hadn't even noticed you approach, standing right before him as he endlessly jabbered.

"Well, Miss Nat told me to go ahead and be 'forward and open', but you know I'm not that type of guy, haha, and—well, ah..."

He looked down at you, dangerously close to his face. His smile became lopsided with nerves.

"And... and, um... Would you..." The man clasped his hands together, expression turning sheepish. That slight flush in his cheeks had spread across his face.

"Would you hit me if I kissed you?"

"I might if you don't."

And before he could say another word, your lips were pressed firmly against his.

[coffeemakerwriter]

Riley rambles

Gaz my beloved 🫶 head canons for him (need to write abt him more!!)

• most defiantly has quality time as a love language, watching tv together, playing board games, he really just enjoys spending time with people!

• I think he has a fear of losing the people he loves, with his job the possibility of losing people he cares about is almost certain, and I think that scares him just a tad :)

• I feel like he’s a dog person, def prefers bigger breeds like a saint Bernard maybe or a golden retriever?

• fall, he likes the sweaters and the colder weather, and the nice hot drinks (I feel like he’d drink pumpkin spice lattes, but with extra cinnamon)

• he’s very much a cheeky and sarcastic kinda person (based on voice lines and interactions in the games!)

• definitely a morning person, likes to get up and do things, work out, chores, I feel like he prefers to stay active or do things. Keep his mind busy

• was absolutely torn after soaps death, saw him like a brother, and to have him taken from him in the way he did riddled him with guilt. For the longest time all he could think of where the what ifs. What if he’d been faster? What if he’d gone instead of his captain? What if?

• visits Soaps grave often, will sit there for hours and talk to him as if he was still there, tell him about recent missions, his daily life, anything that Soap had missed since then.

• got a necklace with Soaps ashes in it, wears it when he’s off duty or not on deployment, he’s afraid that if he wears it in the field it’ll get broken.

[aztarion]

hiii jez, your sol tag is incredible and i love everything about her!! best aesthetic & best most fucked up vampire bbgirl of all time <3 do you have any interesting facts or random tidbits of lore about her that you are willing to share or link me to? wish to know everything & more about her asap tysm 🥰

whaaaat hi bree!! 😭 that oc tag is so thrown together and unorganised girl youre insane putting yourself through that but omfg its til death do us part now 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

i dont really post writing with my ocs much on tumblr but i blabbered for like an hour here im so sorry in advance i hope its a little entertaining…. tw for ed mention and self harm but its just your regular vtm stuff if youre familiar with the background ttrpg

soledad is her courier alias, she usually goes by that or the inevitable nickname sol, which doubles as a small remnant of her old life — her real name is solona ^^

she is first gen mexican-filipina, grew up in california before moving to arizona

didn’t care for academics much; preferred working with her hands — she dropped out of studies as soon as it was acceptable and went into business training under her dad and older brother as a mechanic

very laidback, easygoing, quietly contented; never had sprawling ambitions or aspirations and she was cool with that (was and is a little bit of a perfectionist with her work tho). this created a wedge with her mom who did nawt like the notion of her only daughter wasting prime years and a pretty face in a dingy garage. (i never get it *exactly* how i want in art & have never found a faceclaim i love, but i kinda picture her overall look as like. a timeless, slightly restless sort of dark beauty; like her eyes are always trying to tell you something in spite of herself, even when she looks totally serene lol)

anyway! one of moms fears are realized — sol ends up with a very noticeable facial scar (semi glasgow smile? mouth to under ear and a little further than that even, cheek just super spliced) due to an accident in the garage. sad! oh well she’s the joker now (or she will be after julian)

wait actually while im yapping about backstory i deviate a little from the game options just to make things more juicy and personal but! to me she first meets julian having to work on his suzuki and they hit it off. pre-night road as mentioned she is very easygoing — easily charmed and is herself charming — they def get along like a house on fire. julian would no doubt mentally take note of her whole roll-with-the-punches, laissez-faire attitude — naturally that just seems like a quality that might come in handy when you bite someone and turn them into a creature of the night. also the attentive, methodical approach she takes to her work, and when needed, her on the spot workarounds — he doesn’t want some dumb unreliable chump childe. and alright bear with him here: so it’s not relevant strictly in terms of her being thee potential great american embrace candidate he may be planning for right now, but man shes kiiiiinda cute and the scar is kiiiiiiiinda badass and its kiiiiinda hot that she knows exactly what she’s doing under the hood.…….Julian’s of course no slouch but he prefers it when others are doing the dirty work for him and she knows her stuff. so he’s thinking yeah this might work out. wait did she just say she plays nintendo too — oh this is definitely working out.

well it didn’t work out — sol ends up caitiff. julian accidentally botched her embrace 👍 whoops. but he teaches her blood sorcery as soon as possible — she can fly under the radar as a regular banu haqim. so it does work out! the sire/childe bond likely did some heavy lifting in terms of their relationship but sol was still pretty dopey heart eyes for julian in the beginning, like truly thought he was brilliant and funny and followed whatever he said no questions — really trusted him, figured with him being more experienced and so whipsmart and knowledgeable that he was utterly infallible. julian knew best and like didn’t he keep her safe trying to cover for the whole clanless thing……how could he have anything but Good Intentions dot dot dot……

in the decade after julian goes MIA, sol’s entire demeanor takes a nosedive. in the ingame text, julian and d’espine are described as being ‘fledgling-like’ in that they still have that liveliness to them, like a constant subtle Blush of Life effect. sol had that too in the years w julian, but after so long alone and having to maintain that isolation in order to ghost by in both the human world and undead while drugrunning & couriering, she gets cold — corpse and mind. outwardly she’s very composed; there’s little to no animation (no once-effortless smile, not even a ghost of the dimple in her unscarred cheek ! ) but her inner monologue is distrustful, has aged — is honestly a little paranoid and bitter sometimes — and overly nervous where she once would never have been. when julian returns it’s noted how young he still seems in comparison. that doesnt help the grudge she holds

i think her nerves skyrocket even more so when she feels aila stir. while u cant choose merits/flaws in night road like the table top, i feel like she would have the bulimic derangement that causes a kindred to gorge or throw up blood at random after feeding due to stress — she’s literally just THAT internally anxious. the game makes a point ensuring youre well fed on your next visit to tucson’s elysium since you showed up starving at the beginning, but after the office confrontation with lettow asking what happened to aila — which despite going successfully & having an excellent relationship with him — sol still probably LEGS it out of the viper once dove interrupts and ends up vomiting in an alley before jumping in her car🤦‍♀️ so much for paying alexander to acquire blood and making a good impression this time…..what a waste. and u know what Riga probably saw the whole mortifying ordeal too smh

ok im sorry i could talk abt the entire game like this i have so many headcanons

ooh straight up just facts & a little tldr:

so she’s 5’8; long pretty neck, slim hourglass figure with soft heavy curves, distinctly confident arms and legs, various tattoos: depictions of scorpions and snakes, the sun, spanish and tagalog script in black and red ink. she’s around whatever Julian’s human age wouldve been, i guess mid twenties range

is Julian’s Childe but due to a botched embrace ends up caitiff. masquerades as a banu haqim that, when in the presence of more prejudiced vampire society, in turn masquerades as something traditionally camarilla-fronting: malk/toreador/ventrue, whatever. it’s complicated! por los clavos de cristo does she wish she was back in that shitty little garage 20 yrs ago

throws up when nervous; is constantly a little hungry and risking an oops moment but for the most part maintains iron composure — its become a whittled and useful hard shell

learns blood sorcery right off the bat from julian, learns protean from lettow after staking reremouse w him. she usually keeps things clean and impersonal with a gun and deft precision (and elena with more guns!) but she still likes working with her hands: in close combat, especially when it involves other supernaturals, she keeps elena out of the fight and doubles up that weird combo of blood sorcery + protean — is frankly just a messy blur of slit wrists bloody sigils and slashing claws. (ough wanna draw this ugly visual so bad but omg i just know it wouldn’t work out w my skillset rn)

omg i feel like ive gone on forever in a bunch of directions while saying nothing helpp. ill stop here and spare you! thank you so much for asking bree!! :D <3 you have to tell me about your courier now!!

^ us night roading

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Hide-n-Seek [23]

dacnorthxx: pretty girl <3 sfcommm: OMG?? ok they're def dating wtfsally: I thought Vi and Sal were gunna end up together butttt honestly this is a vibe. I like it belongingtoash: VIOLETHHHHH LETS GOOOOOOO toodswithouthed: @dacnorthxx BROTHER THE RIZZ??????????             dacnorthxx: @toodswithouthed they don't call me the rizzler for nothing            belongingtoash: oh he definitely pulled her. but does he pull out?            dacnorthxx: @belongingtoash what's the name of that lil debbie pie?            larrysbitch: @dacnorthxx LMFAAOOOOO I KNOW YOU DIDN'T             dacnorthxx: @larrysbitch how do u know i didn't if i literally did violethshipper: ^^^omfg someone give this man a medal.

----------

I want to go back to Sal's house.

If anyone asks, I never said that. Never admitted it. I will take those eight words to my grave and into the afterlife. But standing in the middle of a pot-hole infested road in the middle of Nockfell's forest with no prior reasoning to be here has me on edge.

Todd and Neil ditched us for another date night, which is starting to sound like an excuse to get way from us. So Ash gathered me, Sal, and Larry out here (apparently Larry is in on the plan) and told me the weather would be chilly, so I should 'dress appropriately.'

It's fucking colder than a witch's tit out here. Chilly to me translates to long sleeves, not coat weather.

But we're here, the sun drifting toward the horizon behind my best friend's sunset-encrusted silhouette and an evil grin dominating her partner-in-crime's handsome face.

"I've gathered you here today to participate in a life or death simulation," Ash chirps, like that statement isn't going to strike fear in the hearts of all-- well, me.

I purse my lips, turning from Ash and Larry to glance at Sal. He's dressed comfy; in the same Breaking Benjamin hoodie I accidentally wore in Vegas-- I'm shocked he didn't burn the thing-- to go with black sweats and dirty shoes. And he did something different with his hair. Something that I hate him for.

Ash said 'the woods' and he proceeded to sigh, then put half his hair up into a little bun all while grabbing another string cheese. Then he walked out the house.

I really, really hate him for it. 

"Are you going to ask or what?" Ash's clipped words snap at the open air like a whip.

I pinch my lips together and focus on my darling Ash. "Why am I out here?" 

A stunning smile builds on her glossy lips. "I'm so glad you asked, bellissima! We are going to play hide-n-seek. You and Sal are going to be finding a hiding spot-- no context as to why you're paired up included." She holds a hand out to exemplify her point, stopping the obvious question before it can even form on my lips. My stomach drops out of my ass regardless though.

"Larbear and I will not be seeking you, we'll be hunting you." Her eyebrows raise as that smile on her pretty face turns cunning. "You have five minutes. We'll hike to Sal's, then back here and that will end your time to hide. I suggest you make haste, my lovely little victims."

I gape at her, the plan sounding more and more evil as she keeps running her freaking mouth.

Larry lifts a hand, index finger pointed in the air. "And you two are not allowed to kill each other either." Ash nods her head vigorously in agreement.

"So yea!" She chirps, hands behind her back as she grins mischievously at me, a malicious glint in her forest eyes. "Larry and I will see you two losers when we find you. Good luck!"

"Hold on!" I stammer over my words, taking a big step toward Larry and Ash as they... run in the opposite direction. Gone in the blink of an eye. I pinch my lips together, heart sinking into the depths of my despair. "This is going to end in murder!" I bellow for good measure even though they can't hear me.

I swallow thickly, blinking at the now empty street. It's just us two.

"If it ends in murder, I'll haunt you," Sal's voice makes me sigh. It's monotonous, nonchalant. No emotion. 

I spin on my heels to look at him. He's standing in the middle of the road, hands in his hoodie pockets. 

Half his hair is up in that bun, the rest hanging over his shoulders as he watches me, completely emotionless. And as empty as he seems right now, the nature around him still makes him glow. The sun setting behind him, the canopy of Nockfell's forest framing his body. What a sight to behold-- it's just a damn shame that he's the person that mother nature is admiring so lovingly.

A shiver takes hold of my body when the slight breeze picks up for a moment, but I do my best to mask it as a grimace instead. I can't let this monster of a man see me weak. It'll only end badly for me. 

Can't hide shit from Sal Fisher, by the way.

His eyes light up, his stance straightening a bit. "Are you cold?" he asks, a bit of something in his tone even if it was just to make his question actually sound like a question.

I grumble to myself. "It's Ash's fault," I snap. "She told me it would be chilly. Chilly in eternally autumnal Nockfell and chilly in blazingly hot LA are two very different things." I clench my teeth, begging them not to chatter. "Two different things she did not take into account."

My gaze gravitates to my black jeans and the tight-fitted, long-sleeved violet shirt that I borrowed from Ash earlier. Things could be worse, but this shirt is still thin as hell. 

Being that The Faces are so accustomed to the constant chill here in Nockfell, fifty degrees isn't cold to them. But in Los Angeles, I'm lucky to see fifty degrees in the winter. This, to me, is cold. Especially with the sun beginning to go down. 

I focus in on Sal again. He's staring at me. It's awkward, neither of us know what to do. Ash and Larry have taken off back to Sal's to count. I don't know where on earth to go. Sal looks like he'd rather be anywhere else and be stuck with anyone else. But hey, that makes two of us.

With a breath, Sal tilts his head down. Then he starts easing his arms out of his hoodie. For a moment, I fear that he's going to give that damn hoodie to me. But then I remember that this is Sal, I mean, come on. He's probably just warm because he's used to the weather here.

Was the fear of him offering me his hoodie wishful thinking?

No. 'Course not.

I purse my lips at the thought, continuing to watch Sal as he carefully pulls the hoodie over his head, careful not to mess up his styled hair. 

Where could we hide? Should we hide at all or just bump into Ash and Larry with a half-assed 'haha, wow you found us?'

My brows furrow when Sal walks closer to me, holding... out... the hoodie...

I choke on my own saliva, taking a staggering step back as the retaliation of my own traitorous ideas comes rearing it's fugly head. Had the thought not crossed my mind, I wouldn't be in this predicament right now.

Sal turns his head slightly, eyes narrowed like I freaked him out or something. Like I'm weird. Like I'm some kind of fairy with wings that suddenly popped out of the forest.

"Hell no," I cackle, holding a hand out in front of me and shaking it, hoping that my hand's movement will wipe away that damn hoodie. "Cut that shit out. Put your hoodie back on." The words come out in a maniacal shrill, but I don't know how to control myself in this kind of scenario.

My anxious, terror-ridden reaction seems to spark some kind of emotion in Sal. As if taunting me, he takes a step closer and presses the hoodie into my hand. I back away quickly like he's burned me and he has the audacity to laugh.

I have every reason to believe that he'd chase me around with that hoodie if I showed too much fear.

"Seriously, Sal," I warn, narrowing my eyes at him to show him I'm serious. "Stop."

In turn, Sal sighs. "Just take it. It's not to be cute or anything. You should know as much." Amusement tinges his raspy voice. "But if you freeze out here, you won't be able to pack all my shit tomorrow."

"Why would I pack your shit?" I ask, immediately offended. What does he think I am? His servant?

"I'm the only one driving. Most of our boxes are coming with me. Do you not communicate with anyone? Or do you not listen?" He inquires with a smack of his lips. "That's a fatal character flaw, Vi."

I scrunch up my face in distaste, rage flaring through me. He definitely does this on purpose. "For your information, no one bothered to inform me. At least know the full story before you start assuming my character flaws." I point an accusatory finger at him, watching him silently before my eyes flit down to the hoodie that he's still holding out to me. 

He called me Vi, not by my name. 

With a disgruntled groan, I snatch the hoodie from his grasp and start fumbling to get it on. I'm thankful for my mask in the moment since it hides the light blush working onto my cheeks. 

The hoodie's still warm from his body, wrapping me up in a lush embrace. I sigh as comfort takes hold of me-- I can't believe I initially fought this off. What was the point? Now I'm warm and I won't freeze to death. Plus, the collar smells just like him. A little minty, a dash of cologne that's a mix of pine and rainwater, and then a sweet detergent.

"I didn't know you drove," I grumble, popping my head through the hoodie while keeping a hand placed over my mask so it doesn't fall off. Sal tilts his head at me, hair looking completely untouched whereas mine is now a frizzy mess.

"You must not observe your surroundings," he replies. This time there's a little, lighthearted bite to it. His eyes seem brighter than they did just minutes ago. Some of his personality is coming back to him. I wonder what ever took it away in the first place. "Car in the driveway's mine."

I blanch, eyes practically popping out of my head. "That Camaro is yours?" I practically spit the words out, patting down my hair. "How are you even able to-- to drive? With the prosthetic?"

"Great question, especially considering I only have one eye." Sal's gaze never leaves mine, like he's testing me with that information.

While I didn't know that for sure, I could have assumed he was at least blind in one eye due to the dilation of only one pupil instead of both. But it's nothing surprising. The scars on his face said as much about him.

So I narrow my eyes as if I'm studying every move he makes. "How'd you trick 'em into giving you a license then?" I ask, nothing but scrutiny lacing my tone. "Did you kill them?" I point a finger at my temple. "Mind control?"

My aim was to aggravate him, but to my surprise, he actually chokes on a laugh. And it's an adorable reaction-- so much so that in the moment, I feel like we're friends. I like him like this. I feel... this feels...

His eyes scrunch closed and he tilts his head down, hair flowing over his shoulders and chest bobbing with his laughter. He even puts a hand on his stomach as the lovely sound continues to pour out of him. I can't help but add in a little chuckle of my own.

Sal takes a deep breath before standing up again, ambling a bit closer to me as his hair blows in the wind, only bits of it contained in his little bun. "That's a first," he says breathlessly. "And the best reaction to someone finding out I'm disabled."

I can't wipe the wide grin off my face as I shrug. "Seriously though," I say, giggles attached to the words. "How are you able to drive? Isn't that-- not being able to see fully-- wouldn't that be a hazard?"

Sal nods his confirmation. "I shouldn't be driving, but I can. My promise was to never drive outside of Nockfell, so once we get to LA, things are unfortunately going to change." His decent mood seems to diminish a bit at the mention. "And as for the license I have now, don't worry about it. Just know it's very, very illegal."

I tilt my head dismissively. "Alright then," I mumble. "I won't ask about the extent of your illegal activities." Even though I am really curious about it. "But where are we hiding?"

Sal, in answer, begins walking past me. He doesn't gesture for me to follow, but I do it anyway. I catch up to him in a moments notice, walking beside him and waiting for a vocal answer rather than a physical one.

"We aren't hiding," he murmurs, nodding at the road ahead of us. "We're going camp out at the apartments."

"Oh," I whisper, watching the buildings in front of us grow taller the closer we get to them. "So, they won't find us at all, will they?"

Sal snorts. "No. They'll be out here for hours."

"Karma," I say nonchalantly, stuffing my hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Hm," Sal hums to himself. "Yea," he says louder, looking ahead as we walk. "Ever heard of Darwinism?" he asks randomly. But something about his voice puts me on edge.

"Uh," I say hesitantly, wary of his next words-- or worse, his next move. "Charles Darwin? Survival of the fittest?"

"Yup," he pops the 'p', body leaned toward me for a moment as he adds, with a smile in his voice, "You are not the fittest, by the way."

I gape at him. Shock ripples through me at the audacity. Now he's just reaching for anything to insult me with. Sure, maybe I'm not the fittest. I didn't bring a jacket into cool weather. But that didn't warrant a Darwinism jab. "Fuck you," I snap, taking a step away from him. I grumble unintelligible insults to myself for a second. I'll curse Ash and Larry 'til the day I die. "Why did they send us out together anyway? They should have known this would be a clusterfuck."

Sal doesn't even spare me a glance, just keeps walking, sticks and gravel crunching beneath the soles of his Converse. "I don't know. Something about forceful bonding. I didn't care to listen," he replies and I want to punch him for it. That question was for myself, not him. And of course he wouldn't listen. That's just so him.

I keep walking, gaze glued to the buildings and darkening sky. I don't have words for him, not when he's being difficult on purpose. I can go the rest of this stupid little trip without sharing another word with him. See if I care-- he'll be the one to suffer. I can hold out. I don't need to fuck him here. My pride is bigger than his and my need combined.

In the middle of my solitary girlbossing, my foot catches on a pothole that I didn't see because I didn't bother to look where I was walking. Too busy bitching to myself about Sal. Nockfell's old. The roads aren't well funded. It seems I've forgotten that in my time away.

I stumble forward, ready to scrape my knees on the pavement and suffer the embarrassment of Sal watching me take a tumble. But I hear a grunt beside me as a hand latches onto my elbow, another grabbing my waist and hoisting me into a standing position. I gulp so hard that it hurts, gaze on my foot caught in the pothole while the warmth from Sal's hands envelops my arm and side.

"Watch your step, dumbass," Sal mumbles, a clipped laugh following the statement.

I pinch my lips together and swing my head over my shoulder to glare at him. He watches me, humor dancing in his sapphire gaze. Seeing him so unserious will always be shocking. Especially since he saved me without complaining for once. I half expect him to shove me back into my fall, but he doesn't. Puts a bit more of his weight into his arms and pulls me toward him until I'm able to free my foot from the hole.

"Had you broken your ankle, I wouldn't have carried you back, idiot," he says, voice chipper despite the constant back and forth of his emotions. Finally and thankfully he moves his dangerous hands away from me.

"And yet you felt merciful enough to lend me your jacket?" I ask, a sneer on my face. I'm still holed up with my pride... but it's slipping with every word I say.

Sal shrugs. "How can I fuck you if you're sick?" is all he says. And it almost sounds like an excuse, but... he isn't wrong either.

I shake my head, lips pressed together. "Are you going to tell me the truth or are you going to keep up with the fluff bullshit?" I ask him, inclining my head upward. Like I said, I don't have to fuck him here-- why is he so insistent on it? Does he need to christen his house before he leaves for good or something?

Well, we have a head start. We already checked his desk off the list.

Sal rolls his eyes at my words, a glimmer of aggravation in his gaze. "Can't you just accept help?" He kicks a rock with the toe of his shoe, launching into a walk toward the apartments again. I begrudgingly follow him. "I know I'm not trustworthy or anything, but not everything is meant to spite you. Yea, maybe most of it is for my own gain..." he trails off, a smug glance toward me that makes me want to kick his shins in. "But it works out for you."

"The more you talk, the less I like you," I force out from behind clenched teeth. Any kind of warmth I felt from his gesture with the hoodie is left colder than a piece of frozen meat.

"You like me?" Sal drawls, his body tilting toward me just to piss me off some more. But that prideful tone of his makes me shake my head again-- this time to get the smooth timbre out of my head. Is he flirting or being antagonistic? I can never tell with him.

"Not anymore," I chirp. "And when I did like you," I turn to him and hold up my hand pressing my index and thumb together until there's only a sliver of space left between them. "It was so little that it didn't fucking matter either way."

I watch as the bottom of his left eyebrow disappears behind his prosthetic. I can imagine the inquisitive eyebrow raise-- I just wish I could see the whole thing. "Is that anything to say to the guy who's made you cum how many times on this trip?" He holds up a hand, lifting fingers to count.

A snarl leaves my lips as I look away from him. "Once. You've made me cum once, dick," I inform him. "The point you were trying to prove is stupid."

"Dick?" He asks. My eye twitches when his slightly excited, very complacent tone travels over to me. "No, my dick hasn't made you cum yet."

I don't know what's gotten into him. And I don't know what's gotten into me when a little smile quirks my lips at his joke. But I hide it the instant it appears, shoving it deep down. "Shut up," I bite out, trying to come off as aggressive, but even he seems to catch the light, humorous tremor in my voice. 

All that anger has dissipated by now. It's almost as if he knew he bothered me and went through all this to make me forget it.

I purposefully ignore the flutters in my chest and cartoonish crush-y feeling as Sal and I fall into silence, continuing our trek to Addison Apartments. 

I'm thankful for the comfortable quiet, the only sounds around us being our shuffling footsteps along the street, birds chirping and rustling in the treetops. Other than life noises, Nockfell is quiet. Aside from the annual Pumpkin Fest, it's so quiet here that it nearly seems desolate. 

Sal is a specimen and whatever it is that's changed between us-- because there is a very obvious change-- I'm going to ignore it. I have to ignore it and focus on my career, on myself. Why acknowledge this growth in the first place? We're still fucking around and that's all it'll be. To do that, we have to hate each other a little less, right?

Sal turns a corner, so I cut my own steps to turn with him, stopping short when Addison Apartments suddenly towers over me. 

When I lived here the first time, the apartments were about to fall apart. But now... everything is refurbished. It looks like there are lights on in bedrooms on the fifth floor, where renovations had gone on forever it seemed. The building is a new color, no paint chipping or walls broken. It's pretty nice. There are buildings on either side now too, showing that there have been additions. It's nothing like I remember it.

"I take it you've met Lisa by now."

I turn my gaze to Sal, watching as he pulls out a set of keys. Has he had those this entire time? 

His head is tilted down, sorting through the same set of keys while his cerulean hair billows in the gentle wind. Cornflower blue Converse dusty and caked with mud in various spots. I take it these are an old, occasionally worn pair.

His prosthetic enters my field of vision and I snap back into myself. "Yes," I simply reply. I reserved that answer, but forgot what question, exactly, I'm meant to be answering. Because I was too busy ogling him.

He looks at me a moment longer, eyes narrowing like he can smell the fact that I got distracted. With the way he is, I wouldn't be surprised if he could smell something like that.

Sal opens the door though, passing through it and into the lobby as a nonverbal way of telling me to follow. I do, walking through the threshold and into the building.

It's stunning, reminding me a lot of The Faces' suite in Vegas. All white, pristine. I wonder who's keeping it all up, but the answer rings through my head. Most likely Lisa.

I hear hinges squeaking to my right, so I rotate my head to face the sound-- only to find a pair of ebony eyes gazing out of a mail slot about as old as these apartments are.

"Oh, Sal!" Mr. Addison's short, polite voice fills me with nostalgia. I smile warmly at the man. "Welcome back. Coming to visit, I presume?"

Sal nods his head once. "Ash and Larry are up to no good, as usual."

"Ah," Mr. Addison responds, followed by an endearing chuckle. "Who's your friend?"

"Not my friend," Sal answers, never missing a beat.

I roll my eyes. 

"Hi, Mr. Addison," I say sweetly, waving at him. "I'm y/n. Do you remember me?"

I watch those dark eyes widen in recognition and a little grin works its way onto my face. 

"My word," he says breathlessly. "It's been years! I hardly recognize you!" That mail slot opens a bit more as if he's trying to get a better look at me.

I giggle, leaning down a bit to talk to him more properly. "Ten years'll do that, I guess."

"I guess so." He laughs heartily. "Tell your father I said hello. Oh, and I shouldn't have to say it, but you two behave yourselves!"

A breathy laugh comes from Sal and I nearly mimic it. "See you later, Mr. Addison," I bid the man goodbye.

"Farewell." Then squeaky hinges and the disappearance of those ominous eyes.

I turn my attention to Sal, a glare clearly reflected in my gaze. I know he can see it because neither of us has to say a word to communicate what's happening. All he needs to do to rile me up in response is smile-- which he does, if the squinting of his eyes says anything.

I follow him into the elevators regardless of how I feel. There's still a thin veil of humor hovering between us despite it all, so I ignore his bullshit even if I desperately want to smack him for giving Mr. Addison a hard time.

He presses his knuckle into the '4' button and we slowly travel upward. It's a miracle that the elevators have been fixed in the years since I've been here. In fact, there's music playing. It's shitty smooth jazz, but it's better than having to listen to the elevator threaten to fall apart like I did as a child. I can still hear the janky, rickety sound of the elevator struggling to move.

We emerge on the fourth floor, still not a word exchanged between us. But I change that, curiosity getting the best of me.

"This place is nothing like I remember it," I muse, eyes trained to the little chandelier on the ceiling. Who the hell paid Addison?

Sal hums, as if to say he knows. "Once our streaming career took off, Larry and I shoveled a chunk of money into finishing renovations here. We had way too many close calls with death as teens to let it rot."

I nod, taking in the rest of the hallway. It's not much different from what it used to be-- a new paint job and some accessories here and there. "It was a good investment," I murmur.

"Larry would disagree," Sal snorts, grabbing the handle of a door to apartment 402. He pauses when the knob doesn't turn and grabs the keys he had prepared. "We had a failed ghost hunting Youtube channel going before this. Larry really wanted that to work out even though he was a chickenshit."

I bark out a laugh despite myself. Larry and Sal into ghost hunting? Preposterous. But believable considering all the rumors surrounding this place.

It's kind of sweet to imagine them walking around with a camera, going places they shouldn't with quivering voices and high-pitched, voice-cracking screams.

"That channel still up?" I prod Sal. He pauses at my question, never getting his key into the doorknob as he turns to me.

"Don't even try," he warns, head tilting in a half-heartedly threatening way.

I grin. "Well, I know what I'm doing tonight."

His eyes roll, karma for the eye-rolling he made me do downstairs.

Before he can retort, the door swings open and Sal whips around, making eye contact with Henry who beams at both of us. "We weren't expecting any visitors-- what are you guys doing here!?"

"Avoiding Ash and Larry," Sal simply states, keys back in his pocket.

Henry's smile transforms into one of understanding. "They're giving you trouble again?"

Sal releases a breath, clearly fed up with having to give the same explanation for his appearance multiple times. "When are they not?"

Henry lets out a dad-chuckle, clapping his hand onto his son's shoulder and ushering him inside, motioning for me to follow.

I could cry when I walk inside. This apartment looks the same way mine did. Sal and Larry didn't renovate this one-- maybe they didn't renovate the inside of any. It's a nice blast from the past though. I can almost feel Ash dumping her paint water on me in the corner of the living room; a fond but chilly memory from our childhood.

My focus transfers to Lisa though, a smile on her face as she wipes her hands off on her apron. But as I smile at her, her eyes narrow and she purses her lips. "You look familiar," she says, the statement sounding more like a question.

I walk over to her, my heart pounding the entire way. She was more of a mom to me than my own mother was. I owe this woman so much and it's been way too long since I last saw her.

"It's y/n," I tell her a bit bashfully. "It's me."

I pray she remembers me for a moment, but there was no reason to worry considering she breaks into a blinding grin and wrestles me into a suffocating hug that I'm more than happy to drown in.

"Oh, my little girl!" She coos, hand rubbing my back affectionately. Her cheek presses into the top of my head as she gives me a big squish. "Best day ever."

Of everyone I've met again recently, Lisa is the first person who hasn't prodded me about life recently or made the comment about how it's been so long. She hasn't said a word about the mask. She's just happy to have me here.

She pulls away from our hug and wipes a tear from her eye before it can fall. My heart about damn near cracks in two. "You're so beautiful!" She gasps, holding me at arm's length and looking me over. Best day ever. "How have you been, honey?"

"I've been alright," I answer honestly, smiling fondly at the woman. "How have you been?"

"Well, I'm wonderful now that you're here." She playfully scrunches her nose then pats my shoulder. "Come here and sit so we can catch up. I have dinner cooking right now."

Lisa leads me over to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for me. So I sit and cross my arms over the table mat, watching as she moves over to the oven. This is exactly what I'd do every Thursday evening after school-- make my way down to the basement and have dinner with the Johnson's. 

"So," Lisa says excitedly, pulling out her famous lasagna-- fuck yea. "Tell me about what you've been up to."

I open my mouth to respond but flinch upon feeling my phone suddenly vibrate in my pocket. Fumbling to pull it out, I send an apologetic glance toward Lisa who only shakes her head, a gentle smile on her lips.

I look down at my phone, brows scrunching together upon reading "Heather" across my screen. Dammit. Is it really that time of the year again?

It's my mother. We don't talk much. And when we do, it's because dad hasn't paid her yet. For what? Child support? I have no siblings. She's just some important, top notch executive on Wall Street that still milks her ex husband and daughter of any asset they have.

Sighing, I debate on what to do. I should just decline it. But if I decline, she'll bother dad. And when they talk, I don't see my dad for weeks at a time. Not because he's avoiding me or depressed... it's because she convinces him to send her more money and that ends in him having to work much more than he already does.

I begrudgingly answer the call, bringing the device to my ear with a pounding heart. I don't want this. I never do.

"Y/n," my mothers brusque voice filters through the call and I grimace, jaw clenched tight. "Bruce is late."

"Does it matter?" I bite out. I have every reason to treat her this way. She couldn't even tell her own daughter hello after going silent for months. Why should I offer her any kindness?

My mother scoffs, disbelief in the noise. "Of course, it matters," she snaps at me, devoid of any kind of motherly affection. Not like it's surprising. "When we split, the deal was that I get $1,500 monthly. And when he doesn't have it, I have to come get it from you."

"Don't you have anyone else you can bother?" I sigh, thinking of the money stacking up in my bank account. Half of it's going to have to fall to her now. "Or are your other children from the rest of your failed marriages not talking to you either?"

Heather goes silent. I immediately regret my words, especially upon noticing Lisa, Henry, and Sal go still. Their attention on me. I hide behind my hair, tipping my head down so it falls in my face.

"You ungrateful brat," Heather seethes into the phone. I grimace, but it's not enough to make me back down. This isn't the first time she's said those three words to me. If anything, I'm used to it. "Don't you know how much I sacrificed to raise you?"

I pinch my lips together, wondering why she bothered to try and raise me at all. Not like she stuck around long enough to do much raising in the first place.

As if Lisa could tell things were beginning to spiral, she lays a hand on my shoulder and whispers, "Is that your mama?"

I swallow thickly, nodding in confirmation. Lisa and my mom used to butt heads constantly. Lisa loathed my mom and the tight leash she held on me as a child. I'm lucky I got to meet Ash, Larry, and Todd at all.

"Put her on speaker for me," Lisa says in response to my nod, a maniachal little grin on her aged face. That must be where Larry got it from.

My mouth dry, I lay my phone down on the table, ignoring the curses and insults my mother spews until I click the button that puts her on speaker. And then her voice echoes through Lisa and Henry's living room, Heather's harsh and aggressive words splayed out for everyone to bear witness to.

"You and your little ploy of being something special. Pathetic," she spits, her voice cracking. "Did you think you could hide from me?" A humorless laugh. "That you could hide behind that stupid name? What was it— VioletViolence? Should I tell the world about what a disappointment you are? Or how about I show them your face?"

I suck in a shocked, shaky breath, my eyes going wide as panic rips my inside to ribbons. My heart threatens to burst from my chest as a tsunami of fear and and anxiety drowns me.

My own mother, selling me out for not getting her way.

With nothing else to do but pant down at the screen, ignorant of the other bodies in the room, I leap from my chair. My hands brace against the dinner table, my mouth gaping as I try to find words and rifle through my thoughts.

A hand snatches my phone in a split second. Lisa.

"You're on speaker, Heather dear." The words are laced with ice. With hateful promises of revenge so vicious, I couldn't even begin to dream of the possibilities. "I suggest you watch what you say."

My mother starts spitting out nonsense again, but Lisa takes her off of speaker and disappears into the next room, no doubt to give her a verbal beating.

Fuck. What do I do? I need to talk to Ash. I need to talk to dad. I need someone to ground me because I'm free floating through my own terror at this point. Shame and panic have gripped me whole, threatening to take everything that I am. Claim everything that I've built up for myself and tear it all down.

I don't know what to do. Heather is big enough in New York that she can slather my name across headlines and leak every personal aspect about me. For the entire world to see.

And how could I stop her? I'm nothing. I'm just a random streamer that maybe a few thousand people know about. I don't matter. I never mattered.

Hands cup my cheeks— warm, rough ones. They force my head to tilt upward until I'm gazing into pretty, azure eyes. And while I'm not surprised to see cerulean hair, I am taken aback upon finding that the hair is long, rather than short.

Of every possibility, I expected Henry over Sal. In every lifetime. So maybe Sal knows something that I don't about anxiety and averting attention because his hands on my face and his eyes gazing into mine shocks me into stillness. A pause. A moment where no thoughts enter or leave my brain. Everything just freezes.

But I watch his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed, determination and confidence reflected in his light irises. A little spear of panic stabs at me upon seeing one of his pupils dilated. It's not a bad panic, but it's panic in the sense that he's very obviously worried for me.

I don't want his pity. But right now, with him conveying the words 'Everything will be okay' through eye contact alone, I grasp onto his pity. I hold onto it for dear life.

Hold onto the way his fingertips press into my cheeks and jaw, their grasp so tender but assertive. The cool bite of his rings against my cheeks. Our physical contact telling me to focus on him rather than outside issues. The warmth of his skin on mine. And when his index discreetly pushes a strand of hair away from my lips.

I latch onto all of it, the once in a lifetime comfort he's offering. I leech on the one tether I have to sanity, gripping his wrists in my cold palms and watching him the way his eyes beg me to.

"I am not doing this as a friend," Sal starts quietly, never blinking beneath that strong stare. His tone a perfect mask of calm, of stability. "I am not doing this as a companion. I am not doing this as someone who cares." All mistaken meanings combined— he's touching every base so that I don't misunderstand his approach. "I am doing this as someone who understands." His thumb rubs over my too warm skin, soothing whatever negativity is still roiling around inside. I try to ignore the sparks of want that erupt throughout my body. It's not insatiable, it's just an overwhelming desire to keep his hands on my face. To have him shield me from everything.

"Get your head on straight." Those words, spoken so gently but with a dominant edge— all to give me a mental launching pad so that I'm not fighting alone right now. "Remember that you have the power to sue the fuck out of anyone who comes for you. Okay?"

I swallow thickly, roaring at the tears that suddenly sting my eyes. Not now, not in front of him.

But I nod. And he pulls away. I feel the lack of his warmth immediately, the emptiness.

Another phone rings and Sal hisses in front of me, but I don't pay much mind. I'm too busy trying to reel myself in and remember that there's always a solution. I'll be fine, it'll all be fine.

"What?" Sal snaps, frustration lacing his pretty voice. Then silence, aside from Lisa getting real aggressive with my mom in a bedroom to the right.

I look up, noting his phone held to his ear and those baby blue eyes darting back and forth along the carpeted floor.

"Fine. We'll head back. When are you guys leaving?" Sal says, still a bit snappy but softer this time. I guess he's talking to either Ash or Larry.

Sal doesn't even say goodbye, just shuts his phone off and tucks it away before turning to his dad. "I'm sorry, but we have to leave," he says, voice emotionless like it had been earlier. My mood only seems to dampen at the sound. "Can you get Lisa?"

Henry knows the drill. He nods grimly then goes over to the room Lisa's in, pulling her out as she snaps a dark, "Rot in hell." into the phone before ending the call.

My eyebrows raise, a hint of amusement flitting through me at the remark. Heather deserved that.

Lisa rushes over to me, handing over my phone and cupping my face in her hands like Sal did just moments ago. "Don't let her scare you, honey. She's a mean old lady with nothing better to do," she tells me gently, smiling sadly.

A watery laugh leaves me, but being on the verge of tears, I really don't trust myself to utter a single word.

Lisa seems to understand. She rubs my cheek, kisses the top of my head, then pulls away. "Come visit me before you all leave."

I nod, swallowing thickly. Praying that I bounce back from this and set some boundaries with my mom. However that sliver of hell on earth will go.

Sal and I walk out moments later. Our journey back to his house is spent in the dark, crickets chirping and owls hooting. We don't talk. Sal was respectful enough in that sense, but I hardly remember the walk back. It went so fast, took so little effort with my mind trained on other things.

And Ash, unaware of what went down at Henry and Lisa's, greets me with a yelled, "Where the hell did you two even hide!? We checked, like, everywhere!" She pauses, assessing me. "And how the hell did you get into Sal's hoodie without either of you ripping each other apart!?"

"We didn't hide," I mumble, giving her a smile I don't feel and walking to the couch. I'm numb. Whereas the world was crashing down around me at the apartments earlier, now it's just stagnant. I can't find it in me to care.

Ash goes quiet, although I feel her gaze on me. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" She asks, tone comforting and sweet.

"Yea," I sigh. I don't want to worry her. I can tell her about what happened later if she's still concerned. "Just tired."

She hums like she doesn't believe me, but says, "Okay, so I guess you don't want to come out with Larry and I? We're going to a bar on main street."

I shake my head, turning on the TV and completely checking out of the conversation. My social battery is empty for the night-- I just want to be alone.

I vaguely hear Ash and Larry asking if Sal wants to join, but he declines. Walks over to his room in my peripheral.

Then the front door shuts, buffering the sound of Ash and Larry's conversation. Their voices are muted, hardly carrying into the house now.

I stay perched on the couch, turning to Sal when he doesn't immediately disappear into his room.

His one hand holds onto the door jamb, his chest and head poking out of his bedroom door while the rest of him stays hidden. His prosthetic turned to the front door, listening as his friends voices grow quieter with the distance they create as they walk away from us.

This should be an opportunity for me, but I don't have anything in me to start up a game with Sal right now. His pep-talk helped me earlier, but now I just... I don't want to socialize. I don't want to talk. I don't want to have to fight to get some short-lived distraction from Sal. Even if it would be nice, it just isn't us unless we're making it unique. Personal. Filled with hate and loathing. 

I realize I'm staring his way when his gaze suddenly cuts to me. Those haunting blue eyes glance around my body before settling on my face, both of us watching each other. Emotionless.

Then he disappears into his room, door shutting softly behind him. 

Sal may be a lot of things-- bad things-- but I have to give it to him. He knows how to read a room, when to be serious, and when to back down. He has never once disrespected my decision and he holds the championship for that kind of care even now. 

It's not much, but he treats me like an actual human being whenever I need it most. When I'm mentally stable is when he breaks free from that facade and creates chaos. And that-- that's fine. That's what makes being stuck in his presence fun.

I chew on my bottom lip, dissociating a bit as I watch his closed door, listening to automated laughter on the television before me. 

I blink out of my daze when Sal's door swings open again and he pokes his head out. He doesn't look at me at first, his fingertips pressing into the door jamb again. But when he finally does turn his attention to me, those darkened eyes catching my own, he says, "I don't know how to word this."

I'm unable to form my own words. He clearly wants to ask me something. Why is hesitant? It's unlike him. Unsettling. "You've never filtered yourself before. Spit it out," I simply reply. 

I hate that damned prosthetic. I wish he'd keep it off forever so I could see his expression. So I could get some kind of read on him, if at all possible.

Because he just stands there, just watches me. Hell, he doesn't even blink for what feels like ages. 

"Let me fuck you," He seems to force out, like the words weighed a ton. "With your permission, of course."

I don't know what kind of face to put on, what kind of reaction to have. I'm used to him being upfront like this, but the salacious claim still catches me off guard when I least expect it. I did not foresee him walking right back out of his room with a sex proposal. Never in a million years, at least not with the kind of mood I'm in.

But I debate it. I sit on the offer for a minute, let it percolate. I want it-- I really do. Our entire arrangement is for sex. But can I do it right now? Can I handle the arguments and strife that comes with our rocky situation?

"How about I lay down ideas?" Sal interrupts my train of thought, tone one of contemplation and hesitance, like even he's nervous about approaching me like this. 

I tilt my head, but nod nonetheless. I can hear him out.

Sal averts his gaze beneath my stare before he very obviously forces himself to look me in the eye again. Cute.

"You had a bad day. We all have those. So a distraction would be nice, right?" I watch his Adam's apple bob. "Lucky for you, I have a cock. I can't think of a better distraction to be honest."

I nearly scowl. Cocky as ever.

"I'll do whatever you ask of me tonight though. Just for tonight," he pauses, sensual gaze traveling over my body like he already knows his next words will make me fold. The same way the audible change in his voice-- from nervous to assertive, sure of himself-- makes me lean toward giving into him. "I'll let you make a request. You don't have to say a single word tonight. If you want it gentle, I'll give it to you. If you want it rough, I'll make you plead until Lar and Ash return."

My mouth goes dry as I hold his gaze, my limbs quaking at the prospect of him being my bitch for the night. What a day to be alive. No matter how tonight goes, whatever I ask for, I know it'll end well.

"I will do whatever you want."

My tongue runs over my bottom lip as my eyes travel down his neck and over the top of his chest, relishing in the edge of that tattoo on his throat. 

I suck in a quick breath. "Promise? Whatever I want?" The words are hoarse, raspy as they fall from my lips.

"Anything," he confirms breathlessly, impatiently anticipating my answer.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, already knowing my decision. 

My feet press into the floor as I stand, walking over to him with venom and adrenaline in my veins.

"Then let's see what you've got."

-----------

A/N::::::: y'all already know the tw for next chapter HAAAAHAHAHAHA

hiiii my babies :3 i liked this chap when i first typed it out like two weeks ago but now i kind of hate it o_e also, i planned on having this published MUCH sooner butttt unfortunately finals are approaching so that means i've been getting slapped with project and exams in preparation for said finals soooo.... i've been busy >~< haven't even had the damn time to come and think about my mean sal </3

PLEASE GIVE ME RECOMMENDATIONS SO I CAN IMPROVE MY WRITING-- what did you like here? what didn't you like? what's a suggestion for improvement? what should i omit overall? THANK U <333

as always, my love, my heart, and my soul go out to all of you. have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night!! <333

[txtmetonight]

Francis Forever

call summary ⋆ ★ The first time you’ve unofficially officially met Choi Yeonjun was when you had hit rock bottom and flailed helplessly against the dark deep waves of the drowning ocean.  And now you're sinking deeper than ever.

pairing *. * Choi Yeonjun x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Angst

warnings *. Death, Crude Language, Panic Attacks, Bad Grammar

call duration⋆ ★ 3.4k

a/n*. * Erm I'm not very satisfied with this one but whatever cause dialogue is def not my strongest suit lol...hope you guys like it tho

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet//@oreoqueen // @woncheecks//@probably-too-obssessed

The Mitski Diaries Masterlist

The blearing lights of the convenience store did not do much to help your throbbing temple as you stumbled in with a hoodie and a pair of shorts. It was already nightfall, and the shining stars were sprinkled on the blanket of darkness. This was the first place you’ve ran into Choi Yeonjun unknowingly.  

Grabbing the Advil and Red bull that you came here for, you stood right behind Choi Yeonjun and his bright blue hair that caught your interest for a second. You watch his delirious state help the cashier ring up his very few items before he walks out of the store. You had only caught his eye once that day. 

The second time you’ve met Choi Yeonjun was by pure accident–a mistake. Failing your psychology test was purely an accident. Almost getting evicted from your apartment because you were unable to pay the rent was an accident. Losing your best friend from an illness was an accident.

Running into Choi Yeonjun with your stacks of failed papers in hand was an accident. Accidents on top of accidents continued to rot into your life, but this one was a good accident–or not you would soon later to think.  

Letting the Choi Yeonjun that made his way into your life was an accident.  

The third time you had encountered Choi Yeonjun, you were sure that fate had been playing her malicious cards with a sly bitten smile, on her vicious lips. Your mascara streaming down your slightly flushed cheeks, sinking into your skin as you melt into the brick wall behind you. Puddles of tears slop down along your muffled cries, the thick droplets of sorrow staining the pink blouse you wore that day.  

The surroundings around you were a blur, almost like when you were seated on a carousel when you were younger, happy eyes watching the streaks of color mush into a blurry mess that made you dizzy. So, it was really no surprise that you jumped in fear when Choi Yeonjun circled his warm arms around you and that feeling of wooziness slipped away. He grounded you on that stupid fucking carousel of misery.  

You cried harder finding comfort in his mellow chest, and you swear that was the last time you’ve let tears shed on yourself in such a gruesome matter–perhaps you thought.  

With the nights growing darker and the morning lights blinding more than ever, you're shocked to find the wet streams land in your black attire and rather not in the hands of another that you’ve grown to love.  

I don't know where to put my hands 

I've been trying to lay my head down 

But I'm writing this at three AM 

With the nightlight on, you don’t think that you can lay your head down to slumber. A pooling of helplessness fills deep within you and you’re not sure how long it was going to take before it consumed you whole, eating you alive. 

Yeonjun was your whole life. He was perfect, from head to toe, and you love him. You love him so much that it hurts. Feeling like thorns and spikes claw its way up your throat, it hurts to laugh. It hurts to talk. It hurts to cry. It hurts to feel. It hurts so much that you feel like each day you feel yourself being ripped to shreds. You think you’re on the verge of a pitfall of doom.  

Every day a certain scarf is pictured to be on your neck, as if it was strangling you. On days that it was too cold for just a thin piece of fabric around your neck, onlookers ogled at the purple stained fabric in wonder–what were you doing? Yet you let them stare, Yeonjun to you was a man of remembrance, and he suffered quite much to have you be the only one to reminiscence about him–so you let others ponder about him through that scarf.

Logically illogical, you’re about to go insane, everyone knew but never had a clue when. But they would too, if all you were forced to feed on was on the scraps of the imprint of him. No not him as a person, but instead the mere shadow of Yeonjun that seeped through the cracks of your brain whenever it liked. 

You wish you had met him a little earlier, given him a little more to chew into you as a person. 

The day after he found you in that alley, you’ve been forced to avoid him. But you significantly remember that he was everywhere that you went. At the grocery store, in the mall, in your communication skills class, in your dreams.

And every time he had the uncanny ability to spot you but when he did, you had the skill to scurry away like a coward. You resisted and you regret it more than ever now, maybe you should’ve let him in a little sooner–a little earlier would’ve meant that you could’ve spent a bit more time with him, cherish him more.  

Nevertheless, the stubborn fucker made it through your (not-so) tough defenses whether you liked it or not back then.

 

“I’m Choi Yeonjun and I'd to take you out for a cup of coffee...if you’re up to it.”

You don’t think your heart has ever leapt out of chest as much as it did now, but you’re hoping that the heart-attack induced scare takes your life rather than facing whoever that was.

But it doesn’t, so you’re dragged through your conscience to look up from your drawn in textbook, to meet a sharp pair of eyes that widen ever so slightly at you. “Excuse me?” You mutter, scooting a bit away from the familiar man, gasping shocks rumbling internally when he takes a step forward.  

“If you want to, I’d like to take you out somewhere–anywhere you’d like.” He sighs and then pauses. “Please” The blue-haired boy adds.

“I–that’s a bit direct,” You chuckle, shutting the book shut with a tremor of your chin. You don’t know if you’re about to sob or lash out in a serious case of anxious chokes. “Please” He parrots dumbly, gulping when he starts to gather your scattered pens and pencils, which you thank him for with a small smile. “I don’t even know you.”  

“Sure, you do. You ran into me with those stack of papers.” You freeze for a second and relax. “I barely even remember that.” That was a lie. He stills before laughing quietly. “Okay. I’ll get you to your front doorstep in an hour max. And wherever we go is your choice.”

Yeonjun was albeit weird, but you’re intrigued and so you turn around with the straps of your bag over your shoulder, weighing you down while you fight back a smile, walking through the various alleys of books.  

He follows right behind you with a small pep in his step, still keeping a bearable distance. "I don’t know. What if you kill me or something?” He laughs at that and stops, which slows you down to a completely unmoving being.

“But I can’t even I wanted to. I’d go to jail.” He watches your shoulders shake, rumbling in silence. “Please...I don’t think I’ve ever said please to a person that many times before.” He says, eyebrows furrowing when your feet start to walk again at a faster pace. 

“Where are you going, is that a yes or a no?!” 

And without looking back, you shout back, “Well we’re gonna have to walk to get to whatever place we’ll be going to...no? And you choose the place, I’m a little indecisive.” 

Soon enough by your side, he leads you to a coffee shop and leaves you at your doorstep in exactly fifty-six minutes, with your number in hand. And around your neck is a lilac scarf that hides your reddening flush.  

I don't need the world to see 

That I've been the best I can be, but 

I don't think I could stand to be 

Where you don't see me  

By the very corner, a red booth sits in its glory. It holds about six people max, yet usually two occupy the peeling cushions. A piece of gum sticks the edge towards the window and on the bottom a very happy smiley face and a picture of a very badly sketched fox is drawn on the wood with a red pen.

On the top, packets of sugar are placed neatly in a black carton, and if you move it from its original place, you could spot two initials scratched in, exposing the sandy splinters.  

Yeonjun believed that, sitting next to you was more endearing than across, because he was a man of touch. He wanted all of you, he craved your warmth and every single second not beside you were described to be feelings that mirrored the brutal actions only in hell.

So, he fixed himself to be linked arm in arm with you all times, and even while you were sipping on the drinks. He always said that he didn’t have to look at your face, as long as you were touching him in any way, he would be content and happy for the rest of his life.  

You hope he’s still happy wherever he went, but you’re surely not. You’ve heard about phantom limbs before a person feels as though a missing limb was still by their side even though they had lost it through a horrific accident.

Eerie.

Yet you’re not sure what was worse. Feeling a phantom limb of Yeonjun’s who arguably was your other half, or not feeling him at all. The brush of a ghostly arm sends you through a shockwave as you jump, hiccuping down another cup of caffeine. You’ve never ever had a taste for bitter drinks, but your love insisted on his favor for them and now that’s all you gulp down.   

You also trace the peeling letters, more than thrice, wincing when the wood gets between your skin. You suppose that’s what you're sobbing at recently–the pain of the blistering splinters, instead of your grieving heart at his beating love, but the others know better.

Sympathizing looks don’t go unnoticed by you, but you tend to ignore them, and it was easy when all you had to do was immerse yourself in... agony. When the waiter just told you that the cold coffee was on the house, or the old grandma gave you a distressing hug– you just must pretend to wonder why. Ho–hum.  

“You’re here every single day for a month, dear. You do realize that?” 

You look up and retch back a slack jaw at her words. 

“I–I haven’t, I thought it’s been a few days.” 

She widens her eyes, and opens her mouth to say a few words, but eventually stops herself. Then she serves you your coffee before leaving you in a deep pool of bother. 

“Hey (Y/n), how are you holding up?”  

When Soobin’s contact makes its way to your phone you hesitantly pull it up to your ear, but you press the answer button anyways. That night, when the devastating news had reached you, it was through a panicked call from Choi Soobin.

You distinctively recall the cracks in his voice or the blaring in the background. You could almost imagine the blue and red lights that emit much light to blind, and you could almost smell pungent smell of rust and rain.

And this time on the line with the man you could call as your brother, you’re drowned in the memories of that night that haunt you every single second of the day. You could hear the screaming in your head, and the blunt pain in your toe as you scrambled around and stubbed it.

You could feel the car keys in your hand and the driver's wheel in your fingers, steering to the hospital. Perhaps you could also taste the pure fear that coursed through your tongue, at each swipe it to at your bitten cheek and the aftermath of a bile attack that spilled on the pristine white floor.  

“(Y/n)? Are you there?” 

Shaking your head, you sigh into the phone, blinking back another wave of tears. You would assume you’ve cried all the liquid out of your system, but more appears when you least expect it. “Yeah, I’m here. And I’ve been fine...or maybe near it? I dunno. How are you and the boys?”  

It goes silent and suddenly, you're met with sniffling that has you reciprocating with big fat globs. “Us too, I guess. I j–just can’t believe it, I don’t know how to come to reality with anything anymore. Beomgyu doesn’t even talk to me, Huening is fucking quiet all the time, and Taehyun keeps coming back dead at night, sobbing.” He weeps. You finally close your eyes and hit the sofa. “I’m so sorry” You say.  

“And I’m so sorry too. I actually don’t know why I even called. I won’t bother you anymore.” Soobin mutters and you desperately want to tell him that he’s not bothering you, and to please stay, but you don’t. You instead say, “Ok, sure. Please don’t ever contact me again.” You meant the last part as a joke and you’re sure that the man on the other side knows that, yet he cuts the line as soon as your last word hits the receiver.

And just like that, you’re back to your pitiful desolation. To tell the truth, you’re envious. You’re starting to get pissed. With Yeonjun gone...you don’t have anyone on your side. Soobin has the boys, and he says that you do too, but you both know that isn’t true. Without your lover, you’ve succumbed to loneliness of yourself. You will forever live in vain alongside your life with a nasty ring on your finger and the comfort of your brutal tears.  

On sunny days I go out walking 

I end up on a tree-lined street 

I look up at the gaps of sunlight 

I miss you more than anything 

“You’re perhaps the most stunning woman, I’d ever seen in my life” Yeonjun mutters against the expanse of your skin, nuzzling into your warmth as you both lay under a cherry blossom tree. You bite back and smile and flush against the bark of the tree. “That was out of no-where. What’s wrong?”

He twists a little and makes an effort to stare into your eyes–which to him wasn’t too hard, not when your eyes pooled the depths of heavens themselves, and all the beautiful things it beheld. Not when they twinkled like bright stars and Yeonjun internally promised to map out each and every gleam himself.

“Nothing much. Just making some very obvious observations. Did you know that you’re also so very very kind, and fucking gorgeous, and cook up some mean meals, maybe a little stubborn, oh and that you’re my lucky charm of a girlfriend?” He snickers, grabbing your hands to land a small kiss on your ring finger, the pads of your skin, burning against his blood-red lips.

The sunlight beams at the gesture and opens up its lovely rays for the world to share, especially for the two lovers that sit side-by side; one blushing ferociously and the other just admiring.  

“Well–er–did you know that you’re the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my entire and probably ever will, that you’re so exquisite that sometimes it makes me want to puke, that you have the most loving voice anyone would be pleased to here, the same one I believe that could perfectly sing my heart’s tune to where it yearns out for you, oh and that you’re my stupidly bitchy but exquisite boyfriend?”

He scoffs at the last part but turns shy at your giggles and so he pulls at your cheeks, unable to keep himself from kissing them. Meeting you was the most wonderful thing that happened to him, and he plans to keep you around forever–if you’d let him.  

It goes a little silent for a while. 

Then Yeonjun coughs and subtly moves closer, your palm lain across his thigh where he’s kept it from earlier, his own fingers wrapping them against yours. “Did–did you know that you may soon be my fiancé?” Yeonjun murmurs. He watches your lips quiver for a second as you try to comprehend his words.

“I wonder how soon?” You whisper and suddenly you go quiet as you watch him stumble with his arms, clumsily pulling something out of his pocket–a ruby red box that glitters spectacularly. “Holy fuck, I–” You choke, and he just laughs at you before sincerely gazing at you. “(Y/n) I know that this isn’t the most romantic thing, and I’ll make it up, I swear! But will you marr–”  

You cut him off and kiss him. You’re crying you both notice and the salty tears stream down your face, but you don’t stop them as you pull back from the lack of oxygen, heavily panting. “I–what the hell, of course I’ll marry you” You cry, and he starts to bawl as well, grasping the ring from the box so he can slip it on your finger, the same one he just put up to his mouth to smooch.

“I love you much” It was just a huge mess of blubbering tears and wailing voices but you both tackle each other to the ground, embracing one another as though it was just you two left in the damned world.  

Yeonjun’s favorite trees were always the ones with the most flowers that smelt alluring because they always reminded him of you–so his first choice was a cherry blossom tree. The petals were always so magical...and they still are from the way that the branches bow down to you in grief and pity.

You take it that they also miss the same person as you, and you can’t blame them. This is the first time you’ve been here since his demise. You’re so used to the never-ending tears that you can’t even tell if you’re crying or not anymore.

Eyes scouring the ground below you, your eyes widen as a very familiar rock sticks out from the dirt, right near your shoe. You kick at it ferociously ignoring the ache that travels up your foot, but it's all worth it when the sight of purple paint flips around, contrasting it's dull background.

Feb 10...the new valentine's day! Y.J & the love of his life

Today was supposed to be your fifth anniversary–just a few days before Valentine's Day when he was too impatient to confess to you on the day itself, though he had it all planned out for months on end. He was just too sweet you suppose.

"I didn't forget, by the way Junnie. Happy Anniversary, I–I have a gift for you, yeah?" You mumble.

Your hands touch the bark and watch the little ants that scurry the ground. Your lips exhale a loud sigh before you lean down and pat the soil beneath you, nails digging into the rich brown mud. A stray eyelash irritates your skin so with the unsoiled part of your hands you wipe it on to your palm.  

Taking a second you close your eyes and wish, ‘for wherever my sweet Yeonjun is, I hope him to be a cherry blossom tree in his next life, how much ever dumb it sounds’. And then you blow and grab a ring from your breast pocket. The gold band is lovely, and it was your lover’s, the one he wore on his own ring finger.

And before you have any more regrets, you place the jewel in the small hole and cover it up once more. With a piece of your heart gone with Yeonjun’s flatline, another had just been buried along with the ring; and you wonder how much of it you have left to spare.  

Happy Fake slash Non-fake Valentine's day.

I don't need the world to see 

That I've been the best I can be, but 

I don't think I could stand to be 

Where you don't see me 

You stand in the heavy pouring rain staring at the sky. And you’re praying that the dusky clouds clear up; for the reason that Yeonjun might not have a clear view of the world below and maybe you.

You itch to feel his comforting gaze on you or else you just might not make it through. It’s been a while you think since all the saddening phrases said by others have eased up. The spring season has evolved into a daze of heat and the summer warmth made you feel dizzy.  

But now fall is throwing itself out in the air. The sugary scent of apple pie wafts in and out of a nearby bakery. The wet-colored leaves underneath your feet serve as a reminder.

And so, the rest of the boys have been arriving at your door with freshly made pumpkin wine to share as you five bond over an early shitty Christmas movie. You started to cry when the dog passed away in the film and another four pairs of eyes chuckled at your sobs. Beomgyu supplies his comfort, but you’d rather have your lover, fiancé, and the boy too good for this world and for you.

You just want Yeonjun back. 

Meeting and letting Choi Yeonjun become yours was truly an accident–but it’s safe to say that all the years you molded with him weren’t ever regretted.  

And autumn comes when you're not yet done 

With the summer passing by, but 

I don't think I could stand to be 

Where you don't see me

[petrichorium]

pluvi!! i know that capitano is (lowkey, not really) a patient man when it comes to you. but how does he persuade you while courting you? 👀

Oh,,,,,, truly he has Run Out of patience at that point I fear,,,,,,, but he’s very good at going through the motions 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ comes off as a real gentleman, if a bit eager to Get Married.

I kinda shut down for a few months after my second husband’s death—it’s just so sudden and so soon after the wedding it shocks me greatly—and he doesn’t wanna scare me off so he waits twiddling his thumbs until I finally attend a dance, and he pounces then without a Teaspoon of shame LOL makes his interest very apparent by asking me for a dance and blatantly keeping by me the whole night………

The gifts start appearing at my door after that, mostly flowers and little impersonal things like perfume or sweets. As it continues he makes them more directed towards me, lots of writing supplies and books, and often he’ll have annotated the books. He refrains from sending letters which is a bit odd but he doesn’t trust himself enough to initiate that kinda communication 🫣

He also starts popping up Everywhere. Hes not big on participating in court culture but for the months he’s courting me he shows up at p much every event I do, and I kinda gaslight myself into thinking it’s just coincidence LMFAOOOOO he’s always a bit rigid himself except when it’s a hunt, where he is quite Visibly more in his own element. I find it kinda adorable.

But he’s actually very charming I feel!!! Again he plays the gentleman part very well, he’s already quite observant and pretty attuned to what makes me comfortable so within a few meetings I’m very at ease around him. He is Very careful not to seem too eager or like he knows too much even tho he like. Has known everything about me for years oops but it works out well. Hes actually a bit touchy too—hands lingering even when we’ve stopped dancing and on more than one occasion feeding me things. If the dragon arms instead of gloves concept is real this is Even More insane bc I think he’s only touching me w gloves on and later learn oh he was just. rawdogging that shit the whole time right out in public Jesus Fucking Christ

(If we assume he’s from Natlan, I think he actually just doesn’t rlly vibe w court culture that much, it’s all very stifling and prevents one from expressing themselves well. In my head we have a little discussion where he “jokingly” implies he has to resist the urge to just take me and stop bothering w any pretense, which I much later on realize Was Not At All A Joke)

And he def makes visits to my house 🥺 those r his favorite parts icl. Hates having to put on a show in public but loves being able to just sit across from me and get me talking……… at this point he’s giving me those books in person and tbh I think sometimes he insists I read them there as he sits and stares at me silently 😵‍💫 freak behavior truly.

My family does approve of him but we all also know it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t…….. he’s the first harbinger there’s not much to be done if he wants to marry someone. We r all just happy he’s going through the proper motions and seems to be focusing on earning me the right way (not that his reputation would imply otherwise but it’s just smthn that Lingers in all our minds). I think he’s probably proposing within a month or two, and then the wedding ends up Additionally expedited, so it’s all quite fast pfft. And then it’s….. the two or three years of us being married but still kinda avoiding each other rip LMFAOOOOOOO anyway ty for asking!!!

[felixravinstills]

@keeperofsecretsunderthehill I rambled so much that I thought it would be easier to just make a post rather than break up my response in the replies. Responding to thoughts for Arachne about this post about me giving mentors something indefensible/something that irks me, because I like that in characters!

I should say that this is just my headcanon/my take on her from what's in the text, but it could def be interpreted other way. Also, I actually really like Arachne in my mind. I feel the need to preface, because I tend to like what people would see as unlikeable characters. I fear that the way I characterize characters may read as I don't like them, but I do! I just like deeply flawed characters who would drive me crazy/scare the crap out of me in real life, haha. (Also this ramble is a little unorganized, sorry!)

For Arachne, I feel like her indefensible trait/thing is kind of baked in to story with her interaction with Brandy which culminates in both their deaths, but I kind of expand on the general mean-spirited teasing that she seems to have. With Brandy, in particular, I do like toying with the idea that she can't or refuses to see this person (and others from the Districts) as on the same level as her. I think she buys into the Capitol elitism and her own self-worth a lot and when she sees that threatened she lashes out in an almost sadistic teasing manner. I also think she likes lashing out at people. It's a good relief for her emotions, and she doesn't feel the need to normally contain it unless her anger/annoyance is targeted at someone truly influential.

This comes to a head with Brandy, because I like to delight in an irony that maybe Brandy's unwillingness to play along with Arachne would be something Arachne may admire in a Capitolite or even be something that she possess, but Arachne has a refusal to see herself in the "other." Subconsciously, any similarities would incite Arachne to become more annoyed with Brandy and less likely to immediately give Brandy food. Additionally, being in a indisputable position of power over her tribute, it brings out the worst in her personality because she can lash out and tease all she wants with (what she thinks is) no repercussions.

To be fair, I think most of the mentors lash out verbally at times, but Coriolanus also mentions after she sock him in the arm that she's "always socking people" (Ch. 6). Now, I don't really know if we want to take Coriolanus at face value since he's kind of annoyed at her in this scene, so always might be a stretch. I do think that maybe she does kind of do that ribbing you too hard that you flinch kind of thing more than can be excused as accidental.

The TLDR, I think she punches down and lashes out at given opportunity both verbally and potentially physically. The way this manifests particularly irks me because I add a layer of hypocrisy, but also that's what I like about it. The hypocrisy interests me because it's so indicative of the environment she grew up in.

[sakuradeservedbetter91]

Title: conversations beneath the moonlight

Pairing: Sakura/Shisui

Rating: T

Day 1: Mermaid AU, written for ShiSaku week 2024 hosted by @shisakuweek

Tags: mermaid au, pirate au, a smidge of flirting idk, if google existed in this world Shisui would def have a search history of how to flirt with a mermaid

Summary: Shisui is tired of the same old routine as captain of the pirate ship Flicker. Until one night brings him the taste of a new adventure with a new companion.

Snippet:

Wanting to hear her speak, if she could, he tried again. “Are you a siren come to lure me to my imminent death? If so, I have to say I’m a bit disappointed at the effort. I’m worth at least one song as I find my demise.”

The siren smiled again before tinkling laughter rang in his ears, and Shisui smiled, pleased that she at least understood him. And then she opened her mouth, and his heart stood still.

“Sirens are distant cousins of mine,” she said, her voice reminding him of windchimes playing a soft melody on breezy days back on land. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m a mermaid. If I dared to sing, I fear I might be cast out of the sea and forced to live on land for the torturous sounds I'd produce."

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56547709

[spacenintendogs]

7 4 and 11 for the httyd ask game :DDDD

4. What is your favourite type of dragon and why?

this is what peak performance looks like.

school of dragons baby whispering death model t pose my beloved

whispering deaths will forever and ever be my number one fave dragon. they were so important in riders/defenders and i thought they were just the COOLEST. they have rows and rows of teeth that rotate to dig through the ground which is so often SOLID ROCK on those islands in the barbaric archipelago and blow RINGS of FIRE?? ALSO THE LACK OF IRISES AND PUPILS UUUGH THE GHOSTLY EYES!!

i love these sharp noodles <3<3

7. Do you have any OCs? If so, talk about their appearance, backstories, and personalities.

ermintrude!!

she's a bog burglar who's a musician!! she plays the lute mostly but she dabbles in other things!! the flute, pan flute, the lur (basically a wooden trumpet vikings played!!), and more!! she genuinely enjoys making and playing music and she uses it to her advantage! she plays in public places to distract people while her fellow bog burglars are pickpocketing :)

she's born and raised a bog burglar, her mother is a bog burglar & she doesn't know and doesn't care to know who her bio father is bc no bog burglar does bc ew men. she's as vocal as any bog burglar comes and is not a fan of men. she's quick-witted, dry, passive aggressive, and very empathetic, despite trying to hide it due to a slight worry of judgement from her fellow bog burglars (some do judge, not all). she's all talk and doesn't have much of a bite but her talk will have you so confused she escapes or you'll be on the floor crying.

smth i've mentioned but haven't gone in depth abt is her fear of dragons. it runs deep and is paralyzing, due to witnessing a friend of her's and camicazi's be killed by a hideous zippleback during a dragon raid (bog burglars experienced similar dragon raids like the hooligans). when rumors circulate abt berk amassing a dragon army/training dragons she laughs and finds it to be the most ridiculous notion of all time.

until she meets snotlout and hookfang. hookfang helps her slowly get over her fear, although she nevers gets a dragon herself. she thinks snotlout is pathetic but can be alright (for a boy, of course :)) they're never in a fully commited relationship but when they're around each other they have each other's full attention & when ermintrude realizes she's fallen in love... he fell first, she fell harder. but at her core she can't bring herself to leave her life as a bog burglar and it's why they never marry. but they write to each other. she writes songs for him and he'll write poetry to act as lyrics & she's one of the only ppl he'll do that for.

depending on the au they have a child together :)

i'm still working on her and her story but!! i like developing characters as i write & figuring out how they respond to situatuons rlly quickly narrowing down their personalities!! i gotta do more with her ;_;

11. What are your favourite locations in the Barbaric Archipelago?

oooooo......

(old) berk is def one of them!! i used to want to live there so badly!! i love the cove so much and i'm saddened it never came back in the films (it did come back in riders/defenders :'))

dragon island looks cool as fuck esp the concept art

dragon's edge is also cool!! as a teenager i also yearned to be there </3