#I had Scrubbing Bubbles he was mine

[pinata-candy]

My 7 children who I love very much <3

[buckyalpine]

18+ Filth and pure smut. My mind is on a sexy dilf Bucky with those delicious greys in his beard. I want his sweet wife teasing him over his age, especially after he shakes his head over the way their teenage sons friends keep trying to subtly hit on her. He doesn't blame them because his wife is gorgeous; an absolute milf and he's the luckiest man on the planet to call her his.

You can't help but playfully pinch his side when Bucky ushers your son and his friends all out of the house, slipping him a few bills, insisting he stay out late as he wants. He even gives him permission to crash at a friends house for the night leaving the two of you alone. (of course your son already knows why his dad is so persistent and it leaves him both disgusted and happy his parents are still so in love).

"Breakin' young boys hearts, Mrs. Barnes" Bucky lets out a low chuckle, untying the apron that was tied around your waist, letting it drop to the floor.

"Careful there, old man" You tease, giggling at the way he cocks an eyebrow not that the house was empty, "Might get a heart attack if you try anything at your age" and with that you saunter off to the bathroom to run a shower, looking over your shoulder to see if your husband would follow. He watches the way your hips sway, the insatiable little minx in you trying to get a rise out of him, discarding your clothing in the middle of the bedroom and leaving the bathroom door unlocked on purpose.

He'd show you exactly what an old man could do.

****

You felt your muscles relax as steam filled the room, hot water spraying against your skin while you added your peach shower gel to the loofah. You wondered what Bucky was up to, usually he'd-

"James" You gasp, feeling your husbands hard cock brush against your ass as he presses up you from behind, his large hands moving up your soap slicked body to grope onto your lathered breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples, giving them a harsh tug.

"Shhh," He smirked, nipping your neck, his tongue running up your skin, licking up the water droplets, "Don't stop on my account gorgeous, go on" He let out a satisfied hum when you went back to gently scrubbing your skin, his hands moving to rub up your thighs, ghosting in between them before pulling away and standing in front of you. His cock stood tall and proud, his swollen tip so pink, begging to be touched.

"James, please-

"Uh-uh, thought m' just an old man baby, just doin' what old men do" He smirked, palming himself, his eyes raking up and down your body, wrapping his hand around his shaft, "Aren't you pretty"

You went along with exactly what Bucky wanted, letting your hands trail along your body, soapy bubbles flowing down your curves while your husband started to stroke himself while leaning against the cold shower wall. "You're a pretty sight, look at what you do me to darlin' got me acting like a perverted little boy, touching myself while watching you"

He groaned, jerking himself faster, not sure what he wanted to focus on first. He'd seen you naked plenty of times and he'd certainly showered with you more times that he could count but he'd never get tired of the sight of his wife covered in the cutest bubbles, dripping wet, putting on a shower all just for him.

While Bucky was admiring you, you admired him right back. He'd aged like fine wine, his chestnut hair still luscious, the ends of his hair curling from the steam of the water. His beard had a few flecks of grey which just added to how handsome he was along with the thick muscle that ran under his skin. Nothing turned you on more than a very naked Bucky under hot water, lost in self pleasure with you as his muse. Every groan and whimper was for you, shamelessly touching every intimate part of himself because of you. It was that very sight that had your fingers start to travel down your body, your pussy desperately craving attention.

"That's mine, sugar" Bucky grabbed your wrist before you could slip it between your thighs, pulling it away and positioning himself behind you again. "This pussy here-" His palm cupped every bit of your cunt in the most debauched way, his cock slotted between your ass while his chest was pressed against your back, "Is all mine. I get to play with her baby, s'mine to touch"

"Then touch me Jamie, please" Your voice was nothing more than a whine now and the pet name that slipped out was more than enough for Bucky to know you needed him bad.

"M'Jamie now, huh? Thought I was just an old man before" He chuckled, rubbing his cockhead against your slicked entrance, teasing and letting the tip catch on your hole and pulling away before stuffing his way in.

"F-FUCK JAMES!" You cried out as he set a brutal pace without warning, his thighs slamming against your ass, his hands holding your hips with a bruising grip. "P-PLEASE-Don't-don't stop!"

"That's it, scream for me baby, let everyone know how your husband fucks you" Bucky's hands held onto you for dear life, fucking you like a ragdoll, his fingers skimming across your belly and down to your clit. He could feel your stretch marks as he felt your body up, one of his favorite things about you, his mind starting to wander.

He remembered the way they felt when you were pregnant with your son, the way he'd hold onto your belly, tracing over those gorgeous lines as they made room for his growing baby boy. He'd feel those same curves when making love to you, loving the way you were extra sensitive, constantly craving for him to fill you up. You were the most gorgeous thing when you had a piece of him inside you, fuck he missed it, his balls felt so fuckin' heavy and full and maybe it was just the heat and steam from the shower but-

"Think you could handle another baby?" Bucky purred, his cock already getting harder at the thought of you with a rounded belly again, looking fucking gorgeous, barefoot and pregnant. He was perfectly happy with the way things were but another wouldn't hurt....

Fuck it.

"M'gonna knock you up pretty girl, you'll have my baby again won't ya, gonna let me get you pregnant again? Show everyone I still know how to fuck, show em how well you take my cum in that tight little cunt"

"Oh God, Jamess" Your eyes practically crossed as his fingers began to strum your clit, your head thrown back, barring your neck letting him bite and suck bruises onto your skin, groaning into your ear, "Gonna-gonna cum"

"C'mon mommy, make me a daddy again" Bucky's pace grew faster, the obscene sound of skin slapping filling the bathroom. "Milk my cock, take my cream, want it, want another baby"

Bucky angled his hips to hit depths you didn't know were possible, his fingers rubbing tight circles onto your clit along with those words alone sent you crashing head first into your orgasm. A sob slipped past your lips as your vision went white, your cunt greedily pulsing and gripping onto Bucky's cock, coaxing for him to empty his balls in you.

"That's-fuck that's it, just like that, milk it, shit mommy, milk daddy's cock, fuck'm'gonna-oh God I'm cumming!" Bucky bit down onto your shoulder letting out a slutty moan as cum burst from his cock, his endless orgasm leading to drops of his pearly white seed splashing onto the shower tile below. "Fuck, you make me cum so hard for you baby"

His hips stutterd at the aftershocks of his orgasm, his cock still throbbing the last few spurts while his arms held your limp body, rinsing you both off. He wrapped you up with a fluffy towel, carrying you bed with ease and snuggling up in the sheets.

"Meant what I said, angel" Bucky gave you a soft smile, a hint of shyness now replacing his previous dominant demeanor. "How about another"

"I'd give you as many babies as you want, Mr. Barnes" You giggled, squealing when he rolled on top of you, instantly hard-

My bad, I got distracted while already distracted and then this happened. Look at him though, can you blame me.

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 25 - borrowed clothes

soap x f!reader | 880 words cw: and they were roommates, references to masturbation, pervy thoughts a/n: if you lived with soap, he would never wear a shirt. and i stand by that. summary: johnny borrows a shirt. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

You can’t decide if the universe is cold and uncaring, or extremely bored and too interested in torturing you specifically. Regardless, every day, it fucking tests you.

No. That’s unfair to the neverending, bleak void of space. 

John MacTavish tests you. Every. Day.

Well, he tests you on the days he’s at home in your shared flat. Sure, his direct deposit never fails, and you enjoy peace and quiet when he’s gone, but the man’s insufferable when present.

Cabinet and cupboard doors? Open. Dishware? Half of it’s missing. The couch? He hogs it. He spreads those thick legs, wears tight joggers, and puts those muscular thighs on display. An arm slung over the back. He barely moves when you join him, and there is always some part of him touching you.

It’s sick and twisted that he’s infuriatingly handsome and seemingly clueless about it. It’s devastating that picturing him crawling on top of you is the only way you’re able to get off anymore. Door locked, music on, vibrator on a too-low but quieter setting—eyes shut and ears open, listening to him meander around your flat while you imagine him bursting through the door to dramatically take you. God, you come so hard, hand glued to your mouth.

It doesn't help that he’s perpetually shirtless.

He’s constantly on the move and complaining that he’s warm. It’s hard to not stare when he enters a room. His broad shoulders stretch out wide, muscles firm and thick beneath his skin. Dark hair covers his chest and dusts his arms, always shiny after his morning runs and near-daily push-ups. Rugged and imposing, the kind of body that just makes you want to climb. You want to smash his face between your thighs, yank him by the mohawk, and sit on those stupid, hot shoulders. Drown him until he cries uncle.

But today, you can’t stand it anymore. He's elbow-to-elbow with you, tidying the kitchen, still damp and glistening from the shower and clad only in a pair of sweats.

“Johnny?”

“Mm?”

“Do you…mind,” you stare out of your periphery at the size of his hand compared to the sponge he’s holding. “Putting on a shirt?”

He stops. “Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

The sponge drops onto the counter, and he leans into your personal bubble. “Ye sayin’ a man cannae be comfortable in his own home?”

You grit your teeth and focus so as not to let your gaze drop to the pec right next to you. The scent of soap wafts off of him. You want to lick—

“Well?” 

“Maybe I don’t want to be subjected to a half-naked man every moment of my day.”

A second passes in silence. Then another. The corner of his lip curls, and he raps his knuckles on the counter, chuckling. “You’re a tricky one, hen, but I s’pose I can oblige ye. I dinnae ken if I have anythin’ clean, but…”

“Not my problem.” You hiss through a clenched jaw and return to furiously scrubbing the oven.

He’s gone for a few minutes. Long enough that you clean a section well enough to stare at the vague blob of your embarrassed face. Maybe you ought to put yourself out of your mystery and start looking for a new flatshare. 

This time, when he returns, you keep your eyes forward.

Until he clears his throat. “Like I said, nothin’ of mine’s clean, so I had to make do…”

With an exasperated sigh, you glance over to see what he’s on about and freeze. A glob of cleaner slops onto the ground from where it leaks out of the oven. Yeah, me too, you think distantly.

John’s gone and taken one of your shirts from your things. He went into your room, probably rifled through your wardrobe, and stole a shirt. And not just any shirt, but a ratty, shrunken shirt you’d bought as a joke on a girl’s trip years ago. You hadn’t ditched it for purely sentimental reasons, and now, his nipples stand at attention underneath the worn, whisper-thin fabric. His arms strain the babydoll sleeves. It cuts off above his navel. The top tufts of his happy trail stick out.

The words ‘Female Body Inspector’ stretch across his chest.

Maybe you died, and this is your hell. Or heaven. Hard to tell.

Your mouth dries. “Where–Did you get that from my room?”

“Hope it’s alright. Picked somethin’ I didnae think ye’d miss.”

Rising to your feet, you strip the long rubber gloves off your hands and toss them in the sink. You swallow and run your tongue across your teeth. You slowly close the distance, staring dumbly at the man in front of you. Fuck. Were you really doing this? An old silly shirt’s the catalyst?

He grins, his voice deceptively soft. “You’ve gone quiet again. See somethin’ ye like?”

“Johnny, if you’re amenable to it, I’m going to ride you to the River Styx and back.”

His brows shoot up. His eyes gain a wild glint. “Oh?”

Some responsible part of your brain implores you to see reason and remember how sleeping with your housemates is generally a bad idea. It shuts up when you see him twitch in his sweatpants.

“Mhm. My room in two minutes. Leave the shirt on.”

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Monster

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Orc!Bucky x Sacrifice!Reader

Kink: Teratophilia (Monsterfucking)

Summary: You draw the devil’s coin in the village lottery, you will buy another season of peace for your people—but you don’t want peace.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Monsterfucking, References to past violence, References to past murder, Witch Burning, Forced Marriage, Dubious Consent, Violence, Revenge, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Darkfic, Dark Fanfiction

A/N: as a note, this story does NOT share a universe with my other Orc story, Brave. this is another version of Orc!Bucky that i cooked up for kinktober. speaking of which, i hope you all enjoy the first installment of my 2023 kinktober ficlets and drabbles! mind the warnings, and enjoy!

Your wedding day dawns bleak and cold. The snows have come early this year, snuffing out the brief, brittle green of summer with icy finality, blanketing the hills in thick layers of white.

Your death day.

“Up with you.” You aren’t asleep, but Thera rips the blanket from you anyway. “Come. It’s time you prepare for your... husband.” There is no pity anywhere on her wrinkled face as she grimaces at you, her eyes dark with disgust. “Witch.” She mutters the last part like a curse you aren’t meant to hear. You do, though, and you bare  your teeth at Thera like an animal in response. You are satisfied when fear settles over her features, her rheumy eyes widening. 

“If I were a witch,” you hiss, “You would not stand whole before me, Thera Truthspeaker.” This time it is her name that burns in the ear like acid. “You would lay at my feet in pieces.”

She slaps you for the threat, and you taste blood in your mouth as your head jerks painfully. Thera grasps your chin, and you turn dazed eyes toward the old priestess.

“You speak with as foul a tongue as your mother,” she spits.

“Pity you couldn’t burn mine out of me like you did her.” At this, she looks regretful, cutting her eyes at you angrily.

“Lucky for you Demon King likes his brides whole.” She squeezes until you grunt with pain. “And unspoiled.” She tosses your head to the side before standing away from your cot before brushing her hands down her long, thick robes as though wiping your taint from them. “Save your venom, little snake. It is by my grace you were not put to the torch two seasons ago with your witch mother.”

You almost wish they had, instead of forcing the scarred coin into your hand. At least you can serve the light like this, the priest had said, his grim face illuminated by the firelight. You have not forgotten the way your mother’s body burned bright, her head turned heavenward, her mouth open in silent scream as the flames leapt from her blackened lips.

At least you can serve some good when he comes.

Despite her age, Thera’s grip is strong as she forces you up out of the narrow cot. The stone floor of the chapel is like ice on your bare feet as you stumble after her. There is an old metal basin in the chapel’s meager kitchen, and Thera instructs you to strip before ushering you into the steaming water. You hiss at the burn, but it’s the warmest you’ve been in weeks. Months, more-like. She scrubs your skin raw with rough fingers, and tears through your hair with the comb until your scalp stings. When you wince, Thera cracks her open palm against the back of your skull.

“Be still!” Your ears ring from the force of her blow. “This is an honor—a great privilege you have been afforded, though you are tainted and unworthy.” 

The laugh that bubbles from your chest is bitter. “This is not your pulpit, Truthspeaker, and I am not your sheep.” 

Thera paints the symbols for fertility and prosperity on your damp shoulders in perfumed oil before rubbing them into your skin. She combs the oil through your hair, too, braiding gold thread into it as she pins it up away from your face. As she is closing the bridal robe around your shoulders, the door flies open.

The priest practically falls through it, his face shining with sweat despite the temperature. The charcoal around his wide, fear-bright eyes runs dark on his pale skin, like dark tears tracking down his gaunt cheeks. His terror is catching, your own heart pounding against your ribs. 

“He comes! The Demon King comes! He rides for the village!” Thera glances at you, her thin lips curving into a cruel smile. 

“And his bride waits.”

—

You have seen a bride taken, once. You were young, six seasons, perhaps? Seven? You saw the Demon King ride away with her, her long, black veil whipping behind her in the icy wind.

Mother had told you not to go, not to watch—It’s barbaric, my love, we needn’t take part—but you couldn’t help yourself. She is lucky, she is blessed, the townspeople murmured amongst themselves as they watched her go. Chosen. She’d drawn the coin from the bag, the same pitted, pocked metal that the priest had forced into your trembling hands as you’d watched your mother burn.

Life for life.

The rope bites into your wrists as you tug uselessly at your bindings. Your breath leaves your lips in frantic clouds of white as you pull and pull. Your only victory is the creak of the rope as it tightens. Your teeth chatter as you stare into the fog. It rolls out between the trunks of the bare trees like tendrils, creeping along the snow-covered ground until it fills the air, obscuring light and sound until all around you is dim as twilight.

“Your bride awaits you,” the priest’s muffled voice trembles. “Take her and honor our agreement, as it has been, and as it shall be.”

For a long time there is no answer from the thick, swirling fog. You count each second, your aching arms stretched above you, the rough wood of the post digging into your back through your cloak. The cold eats away at your bones as you shiver. It’s not snowing any more, but the loose drift blows up into your face as the wind rips at you. The priest’s voice trembles as he begins again.

“Take her and honor our—”

“Silence.”

 The voice vibrates powerfully in your very marrow, in your head and all around. He is near. You can barely see a foot in front of you, and now you are glad for it, glad you cannot see the face of your death. The mist swells, roiling angrily around you as your skin prickles with his closeness. You know not what the Dark King looks like, but you know what you have heard murmured in the dark corners of ale-soaked taverns and in the pews of every chapel of the Holy Light—he is darkness, he is devil made flesh and set upon the children of light so that they might know fear. 

That the price of flesh paid by your people is all that keeps him from loosing his terrible fury upon the valley—

But you do not yet know you believe.

You are afraid, that much you can tell from the thundering of your heart and the staccato sound of your own breath. You cannot see him, but you know he circles you, like a wolf, just behind the curtain of smoke and mist. The silence is deafening, and for a moment you wonder grimly what the Truthspeakers will do with you if the Devil himself does not take you—

“I accept this offering.”

 He steps sideways out of nowhere, the air simply parting like a curtain to reveal him. The Orc regards you silently, watching your breath cloud the air and disappear. He reaches for you and you flinch, but he doesn’t touch you. Instead, he pulls at the ropes. The priest knotted them tightly around the post, but when the Orc pulls lightly, it comes away easily, as if undone by his touch. 

His face is more human than you expected, fierce blue eyes set above chiseled cheekbones. His tusks poke out from beneath his bottom lip, but only barely, more evident as he grimaces. You wonder if he is displeased with you, as he looks you over, and you flinch when he reaches out with one massive, gloved hand. He grasps your chin firmly, turning your head this way and that before sighing. 

“Come.” 

 This time, his voice does not echo through the clearing as if spoken by a dozen men. He reaches for you again, this time drawing the dark veil down over your face. His horse is as large and dark as he is, and the great beast paws the ground as you near, and you see your own fearful face reflected in its strange red eyes. He chuckles at your reluctance.

“Afraid, little bride?”

You are. Truly afraid. Of him. Of the village. Of the way forward, wherever it led. But you would not be like Thera, like the cowering priests in their chapel. Your fear would not rule you. 

You grasp the reins and fit a foot into the stirrup. 

“I am afraid.” Swinging your leg up, you climb into the saddle. “And I am more than fear.” He smiles, the sharp, white points of his teeth gleaming as his lips part.

“Good.” He steps up behind you, and your face flushes with heat as he fits you against his front. 

“What are you called?” He hesitates, and you wonder whether or not he will tell you the truth.

“James.”

—

The sun is low in the sky by the time you see the encampment, nestled in the dark, snowy hills like a glowing ember. You tense as you see it, going rigid in the saddle.

“I did not know you came to collect your bride price with an army.” You reply, and behind you James chuckles. 

“How else would I make sure it was paid?” 

You feel small and alone as you ride into camp, your veil still pulled low over your eyes. The sounds of music and conversation die as the king approaches, the garrison watching with curious apprehension. The pack parts for you, people stepping away from James’ horse with a respectful bow. He is King here, of that there could be no doubt. A great fire blazes at the heart off the encampment, and James rides close enough to feel its heat before dismounting. He holds out his hand to you with a thin smile. 

“Come, little wife. Lay aside your fear and let us know your fate.” You return his grim smile with one of your own. 

I suppose I always knew it would end in fire.

You take his hand, and James helps you down. For a moment, there is no sound other than the roar of the flames and the shrill whistle of the icy wind. 

“She is small.” The voice is heavy with age, and rife with irritation. “It will not be her.” You turn to see the stooped Orc step out from the crowd of onlookers. She leans heavily on the staff she carries, the top adorned with an assortment of feathers and tiny, white bones. James does not look away from you. 

“The fire will tell.” 

He pushes your bridal robe from your shoulders, undoing the tie around your waist. The cloth falls to the ground, leaving you naked. You are not cold, though, not this close to the fire. The veil he leaves on, and the fabric whispers against your bare ankles. The old Orc hobbles closer, peering at you with her one good eye. 

“You know what to do.” 

You do—you step into the fire. It burns—burns hotter than anything you have ever known—

But there is no pain. You open your eyes. All around you is light, beautiful, glorious light. You lift an arm, and flames dance along your skin, leaving trails of radiant heat. You raise your arms above your head with a shout. They should have burnt me in the village. You imagine the streets burning bright with your flames. 

Something is changed in you, something opened, something broken free, something you’d never even known was caged inside you. You are the fire, it is you—

The old Orc slams the staff against the ground with a sound like thunder,  and the flames cool to embers as you drop your arms, panting. You are giddy with power, your heart beating in your chest as fiercely as the flames. 

“Fire-sign.” She draws symbols on your face in red ichor, and matching ones on James. Her scarred mouth twists into a smile as she pulls the veil from you. “Burn brightly.”  

James gathers you in his arms, lifting you with ease. He makes for one of the tents, pushing aside the heavy canvas hanging over the opening. James spills you unceremoniously onto the furs by the small fire, ripping at his clothes as he sets upon you with his hungry hands and mouth.

“Knew it would be you,” he mumbles as he lowers his mouth to yours. “Could smell the smoke on your skin.” 

Gods you burn as he kisses you. You are no longer standing in the fire but you feel it in your veins still, like it’s part of you. Your head swims as though you’d drunk your share of mead, James’ touch only adding to the dizzying rush of sensation. He kneels down between your legs, his eyes dark as he drags them down your writhing body. He licks his lips.

“My fire-sign.” He cups your cunt with one massive hand, trailing a thick finger along your slit. From the bits of hushed gossip you’d overheard from the older women in the village, wifely duties were to be penitently endured, you were to feel pain and discomfort, not this, this—

Fire.

James parts your thighs until they are wide enough to accommodate him, and he bends low. The whites of his eyes barely visible as he stares at your slick center. 

“What better wedding gift?” He says lowly, tugging your hips roughly forward until you can feel his breath on your cunt. 

You lick your lips. “And what is mine?” You ask, and James laughs. You keen as he licks a long, hot stripe up your soaked slit. 

“What would you ask of me?”

“Burn the village.” There are two voices coming from your throat when you speak. There is you, the you you know, the you you have always been—

And there is the fire. 

The thing of smoke and passion and rage in your skin now, too. 

“Leave nothing standing.”

James lowers his head to your sticky core, and wraps his arms around your thighs anchoring you to his face as he feasts. His tongue slides hungrily through your slick folds, and your eyes fly open a your hips roll of their own accord. You come apart then, shuddering and whining, but he doesn’t stop. Your hands tangle in his dark hair, pulling at his ceremonial braids as he tastes you till you’re dizzy. James finally relinquishes his hold, and when he rises his chin is wet with your pleasure. 

“You wish me to wage war, little wife?” He asks, reaching between your bodies to palm his cock. You can’t look away. “To spend fire and blood for you?”

You nod. 

“For that, I will require more than a marriage of convenience,” he replies, and you shiver as he taps the head of his cock against you with a slick, sticky noise. You whimper as he circles one of your nipples with his thumb. “I want more than just your body, understand, little bride?” His hand spans half the length of your belly it’s so big, and you stare wide eyed down at his cock. 

“I will have all of you.” James growls down at you. “Not part.” You whine as he pushes against you, the blunt head of his cock pressing inside with a pop.  Your lips fall open, a strangled moan escaping them. James’ claws dig into your hip, and he utters a curse. You’re already so full of him, you don’t know how more can fit, but James works his hips against yours, rutting shamelessly against you until you swear you’re choking on him. 

The ache is so sweet it brings tears to your eyes. 

“Y-yes!” 

He draws out, leaving you almost empty before filling you with a hard thrust. James moans low in his throat, his head falling back. He cups your face with one hand, dragging his thumb across your lips. You rake your fingers over his muscled chest and he grits his teeth, driving into you harder, curling over you as he presses your knees against your chest. 

Your breaths escape you in choked little mewls, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he drowns you in pleasure again, and the fire in your veins swells, consuming you. Behind him, the fire blazes more brightly than ever before, and  James looses a low growl, his cock pulsing inside of you.

“Then you will have war, little queen,” he says, nosing down the side of your jaw. He nips at your throat, hard enough to bruise.

You smile. 

[minkkumaz]

WATER WASHED SHOULDERS

when the tension of your day lies in your knotted shoulders, all you want is a bath with the man you love the most to ease your nerves.

PAIRING kim seungmin x fem!reader WC 0.7k TAGS established relationship trope. suggestive (?). fluff. OMI NOTE needed to get something out even if it was small, and this idea has been on my mind forever ahgh. bathing with seungmin sounds so intimate i wanna smooch him.

work days always ran long for you and seungmin, leaving not much time to actually spend with one another. it was something the two of you mutually craved, the opportunity to hold each other without passing out for the night. 

and while he wasn’t as into physical touch as you were, even he got antsy sometimes, just wanting to be around you. that puppy - like yearning he always had became more evident. though, whenever he gets the chance to pamper you, it’s like the world came in full circle. 

you arrive home shortly after he did, kicking shoes off your sore feet and dropping all your things at the door. every part of you was ready to clean up and go to sleep. the sound of rustling in a cabinet piqued your interest, as you turned the corner to see your boyfriend grabbing two towels.

“hi pup, are you about to take a bath?” you question, giving him a quick embrace.

“no, we are about to take a bath.” he responded casually, stacking the material in one arm and taking your hand with the other. 

“ah– really? we haven’t bathed together in so long..” your lips perk into a shy smile as you follow behind him in the bathroom.

“i know, but i got home a little earlier today so i set something up for us, is that okay?” he says.

“of course it’s okay! you’re too sweet when you want to be.”

“don’t get used to it.” he tries to sound annoyed, but you know he’s just being sarcastic.

turning the knob, you see all the bubbles practically overflowing out of the tub. the lights were dim, making the glow from the two scented candles on the countertop more prominent. the steam rose from the tub, creating a comforting and misty atmosphere in the bathroom.

his expression was fond, feeling proud of the work he did and your smiley reaction to all of it. 

“min.. this is so lovely oh my gosh.” you frown, squeezing his hand.

“let me take care of you, yeah?” slowly slipping the clothes from off your heavy shoulders, the two of you undressed and lowered yourself comfortably inside the sudsy water. it splashed slightly around you as you gripped the sides of the tub. instant relief enveloped your body in the form of warm water.

seungmin took it upon himself to pull you close against his chest, feeling the contrast between his cold skin and minor heat of the bath. his arms wrapped around your torso lightly as you relaxed into his touch. a sigh of relief left your lips.

he took a pastel - colored bottle from the ledge, opening the cap and squeezing a dime sized dollop of the shampoo he uses. a finger reached around to the tip of your chin, tilting your head back so he could rub it into your hair. the scent engulfed you, making you open one of your eyes to look up at your boyfriend.

“is this your shampoo?” 

“mhm, is the smell too strong for you?” he asks quietly, his hands stopping from massaging your scalp.

“no, just wondering why you didn’t use mine instead. yours is almost out, pup.” you close your eye again, letting him continue his movements.

“just want you to smell like me.” he mumbles, using one of his hands to grab a cup of water to let it slowly trickle down your head.

once all of the soap was washed from your hair, he took a small loofa and lathered it with body wash in the same scent. his touch was tender and affectionate, demonstrating his love and desire to take care of you. the warm water and his ministrations relaxed your tired muscles, melting away the stress of the day.

your back, shoulders, arms, and every part of your body was scrubbed lightly in a soothing rhythm that eased your body. it had been awhile since the both of you had the opportunity to have such an intimate moment together; basking in the comfortable silence in which so much love drowned the two of you.

moments like these made you feel so lucky to have seungmin with you, and the drive he had to pamper you showed that he felt the same way. he poured more water on you in little bursts, washing away all of the bubbles against your skin.

“are you ready to get out, pretty?” he leans his head around to place a kiss on your wet cheek.

“just a little bit longer.” you rest your head back on one of his shoulders, eyes still closed shut.

“sounds like a plan.”

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[greenishghostey]

Prompt lol

"Are you humping me?" "...maybe."

The good shit right here 👌

///

Most people would look at Eddie and assume that he was a slob. The town’s running theory about how he lived was close to that of a feral raccoon in a restaurant dumpster.

However, that could not be further from the truth. Eddie was messy - who wasn’t at the best of times. But he was never dirty. He always made sure to do the dishes, hang up laundry and vacuum when needed.

Eddie “domestic goddess” Munson. That’s what you liked to call him while he dashed around doing chores because you showed up to his trailer too early.

There was something oddly attractive, almost sexy, about watching Eddie clean. He usually changed into comfortable clothes that he didn’t mind getting wet. An old Slayer t-shirt and navy pyjama pants with one of the back pockets missing. The pyjamas hung low on his hips and shifted perfectly when he walked.

After a magnificent spaghetti and meatball dinner, Eddie insisted on doing the dishes because you were the guest. He always seemed to forget just how much time you actually spent at his.

With his back to you, Eddie hunched over the soap-filled sink. The muscles in his back moved as he scrubbed at the dried tomato sauce on the bowls. His hair was loosely tied back so he wouldn’t need to keep shaking it out of his face.

The guy was obscene. And he was doing the dishes. It amazed you just how effortlessly alluring he was. Even in the most mundane moments, there were little flecks of saccharine intimacy.

The sweetness of the situation was comforting, and calming too. But you had a much better method of expressing just how much you appreciated his domestic efforts.

“Babe, can you bring the glasses over too?” Eddie asked, gesturing behind his back at you and the dinner table. You were already silently on the prowl towards him. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.

“I’m gonna leave mine out. Need more lemonade.” You replied, keeping your voice quiet to imply distance as you closed in on your target.

“You've had two glasses already! I only got like half of one because you had to take a leak-" Eddie was just about to turn around to point a soapy finger at you, but it was too late. You had launched your attack.

Your arms snaked around his waist as you pulled yourself impossibly close to his back. You reeled your hips back and started humping Eddie like some feral animal in heat. Exaggerated moans and groans were also included - it added an element of dramatic flare that he would no doubt appreciate.

"Are you humping me?" Eddie laughed, standing still and peering over his shoulder at you. He was glad that you could be such a little weirdo with him.

"...maybe." You did your best to imitate his sex noises - groans and a wonderful amount of whimpering. "You're so wet, couldn't help it." It wasn't a lie, his hands were dripping, and some of the water had gotten on his t-shirt.

"Uh-huh, all for you," Eddie whined, trying his best to imitate your sex noises. Douchebag that he was. "You wanna feel how wet I am?" was he actually getting off on this? He couldn't be.

Eddie wasn't getting turned on - well, at least not entirely. He had about a half-boner going. The moment that you started to slow down in your thrusts against his ass was when he struck. A pile of dish soap bubbles were pressed into your chest as Eddie cackled like some mischievous gremlin thing.

"God, you bitch!" You shrieked, swatting at Eddie as he continued to basically massage your boobs. The ulterior motives were all too clear.

"Yeah, call me that again. Fuck, I'm gonna cuuuuuum." He moaned and giggled, now humping at your thigh with a firm grip around your waist - you weren't going anywhere.

[the-fiction-witch]

Scrubber Girl

Media Artful Dogder

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty AF

first fic post show release for Jack Dawkins!

I would like to formally welcome him to the roasta and thank everyone involved in artful dodger!

I hummed myself a gentle tune as I folded laundry away into the upper cupboard when suddenly this smell, this stench! this utter aporance! met my nose. 

"Ohh my-" I gasped turning to see if I could see what on earth had happened only to see a strange sight indeed. 

As Resisdent Dr Jack Dawkins came trudging up the stairs dressed in his shoes, socks, his undergarments and a dirty old coat, with a look of anger and frustration his body coated with dirt, blood and... frankly I didn't want to know what else. His whole body stank enough I could smell him before he even reached the top of the stairs.

I met his angry eyes, then his... undergarments utterly in shock grabbing a yet folded sheet to hold over my eyes

"ahhh goodness gracious! Dr Dawkins!" I yelped "What on earth happened?"

"Don't ask." He snapped heading to his room, 

I quickly finished the laundry and took my dress in hand to scamper along behind him to his room quickly going in before he stopped me 

"What on earth happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it" 

"Alright, You need a bath. You utterly reek"

"I'm fine" he said stripping the jacket off and washing his face from the basin by his bed

"Jack you need a bath." 

"I'll deal with it in the morning Y/n I know you trying to help but It's been a long day I just want to get to bed." 

"I just clean those sheets jack, No absolutely not." I said moving to stand in front of his wardrobe to prevent him from getting clean clothes

"Y/n."

"I will ask you nicely once Jack, and I will ask you rather bluntly a second time. Do not make me ask you a third." I glared 

He rolled his eyes "Run me a bath." 

"Thank you, I will add some extra bubbles just for you" I smiled going to scamper away to run him a bath but he grabbed my arm "Yes?" I asked his response like normal was to merely rub his nose on mine "Not on your life while you're smelling like that doctor. Once your bath is finished I will consider it" I told him before I hurried down to the bathroom running the large tub with a nice fresh bar of soap, some fluffy towels and extra bubbles and soon enough he arrived wrapped up in his jacket with a fresh set of clothes "You're bath awaits you, Dr Dawkins" 

"Thank you y/n." 

"You're welcome, now come on let's get rid of that horrid... whatever it is." I told him 

He smiled and stripped off what remained of his clothes before climbing into the tub "Ahhh hot,"

"if its not hot your not clean" I giggled "Enjoy your bath" I smiled going to leave but he grabbed my arm and tugged me back "Yes?"

His response was to lean on the side and give me puppy eyes 

"Alright" I rolled my eyes sitting on the edge "What on God's green earth is in your hair?" I asked 

"You don't wanna know" he sighed relaxing a little 

"I worry about you sometimes." I sighed picking up a rag from the side getting a good rub of soap and starting on his matted hair filled with chunks of... ehhh I don't wanna know "You get into another fight again?"

"No."

"You trip over the surgery waste bucket again?"

"No. And I can do it myself you know" He pouted 

"Alright I'll go" I laughed trying to get up and leave but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back

"Ohh no you don't" He smirked tugging me back so much I almost fell in his bath with him 

"Jack let me go!" I giggled 

"How am I ever meant to get clean without my little scrubber" He smirked 

"Jack!" I giggled pushing him off before he really did pull me in his bath with him "Not while you still covered in... Ohh my- Is this flesh in your hair! How- what- when-"

"I told you, you didn't want to know." 

"Let me guess some crack pot scheme of you boys downstairs gone horribly wrong?" I asked having to work a bit harder now I knew what it all was getting the good scrubbing brush 

"More or less" He shrugged "While your at it scrubber girl I have a terrible itch on my back" He complained arching his back so I could use my long scrubber 

"I protest to being labelled your scrubber girl" I complain playfully but still decently hitting him on the head with the wooden steam of the scrubber 

"Owww" He complained "Sorry scrubber girl"

"One of these days, your going to call me that and I'm going to push this scrubber slightly further down and end up shoving it right up your arse. Like to see your quick fingers get you out of that"

"You'd be amazed what my quick fingers can do" he smirked "I suppose you wouldn't be surprised. Would you scrubber girl?" He smirked leaning back to playfully wink at me 

"You want me to hit you again? cause I'll do it. and it'll be much harder."

"not the only thing getting harder." he smirked 

"Okay. You asked for it." I glared fetching the hard brush the one often used for the bottom of your feet, calus hands and stubborn merky mud. I dabbed a bit of soap and before he could argue or protest I shoved the brush down his chest until I met his crotch and scrubbed like I was cleaning off old boots to which he squealed like a nine-year-old girl has lost her dolly and immediately he scampered himself to the other end of the bath sheepishly holding his legs to his chest

"No." He warned "Noo. put the brush down."

"I'm not sure, a scrubber girl needs to scrub" I giggled jumping to the other side and trying to get him again but he again moved in fear 

"ahh no! no. okay... I apologise." He said, "Just put the brush down."

"Alright," I giggled setting the brush down "What am I?" I asked 

"My scrubber girl" he smirked 

"Jack," I warn going to pick it up again

"Alright! Alright, Your y/n. my very sweet little laundry girl." he smiled moving over to be close to me leaning on the tub a little "Not the scrubber girl"

"That's better" I smiled fixing his hair a little and giving his lips a soft gentle kiss he tried for more But I pulled back 

"Would my lovely laundry girl like to join me?" He suggested

"After what's just come off your body Jack you have more chance of getting the virgin Mary herself coming through that door to give you blow job" 

"I mean... you can empty it and re-run it if you feel that strongly about it"

"Just put some pants on Jack before I really do shove that scrubbing brush up your arse" I warn getting up and throwing him a towel to it hit him in the face

"Thank you-" He sighed 

[pasukiyo]

YOU'RE ALWAYS GONNA BE MINE

| CHAPTER ONE

a royalty au. remus lupin x princess!reader. multi-part series. series masterlist.

word count; 4,521 summary; lord sirius is visiting the castle! the princess is more than enthusiastic to see her dear friend again but brunch doesn't go quite the way she planned, and now all she wants is to disappear, to run away and leave everything behind. remus belongs nowhere-- the forest is all he has ever known.

so even in a different life, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless...

 “Forgive me, your highness, but it’s time to wake up!”

 She stirred in her sleep and groaned as Marlene drew the curtains away from the windows of her bedroom, sunlight spilling like an egg yolk inside the room. She squeezed her eyelids shut and dug her knuckles into them until she saw stars, arching her back off of the bed, feeling the delicious crack of her bones. “Is Lord Sirius here already?” The princess asked, her voice thick with sleep. She hoisted herself up into a sitting position, lids barely open as she found Marlene’s figure across the room, the midnight blue dress she had requested the night before draped over her arm. 

 “Not yet, as far as I know,” Marlene replied. “But soon. I insist, princess, you must get up now. We simply don’t have a second to waste. I’ve already drawn you a bath.” She grumbled as Marlene ripped the comforter off of her, her head lolling forward until the top of her head was flush against the mattress. “What happened to quiet, shy Marlene from last night?” The princess mumbled, hesitantly swinging her legs over the side of the bed, groaning as her feet met the floor below. 

 “You told me to stop acting like that, remember, princess?”

 She narrowed her eyes over at Marlene where she stood by the vanity, taking stock of everything she needed. “Hmph,” she huffed as she rose to her feet, stumbling over to the restroom where Marlene had drawn her a bath already, a towel neatly folded on a stool beside it. With half a mind, she slowly stripped herself of her nightgown, stepping into the burning hot water, hissing as she slowly sunk further in until her bum hit the bottom of the tub. 

 “Will you wear your hair down or in an updo today?” Marlene asked as the princess scrubbed her body, her skin white as she lathered herself with soap. “Down, if you will, Marls,” she replied simply, pouring water over her head, the bubbles sliding off her flesh. Her skin smelled of olive oil and a hint of lime, her hair like sage and thyme and at last, she was done, rising from the tub.

 She leaned over to grab her towel and wrap it around her body, and Marlene rushed over to the tub to take a hold of the princess’ hand, guiding her safely down to the floor. The princess willed herself to suppress her laugh as the handmaiden led her back behind the dressing screen where she slipped on her undergarments, Marlene practically shoving her into a corset. 

 The princess hissed as the handmaiden began to tighten and lace it, Marlene furrowing her eyebrows in apology. “So sorry princess,” she said as she laced the corset even tighter, until the seams were practically busting. The princess coughed, her teeth sinking down into the flesh of her bottom lip to help ease the discomfort. “No matter,” she sighed as Marlene grabbed the midnight blue dress draped over the top of the screen, rolling the skirt until the head was visible. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

 Finally, the dress was down over her head and Marlene made quick work of tugging it down the remainder of her body, tugging at the skirt until it laid on her hips perfectly. The princess blinked down at the dress before up at Marlene as the handmaiden stepped away, eyeing the fabric for any wrinkles she may have missed. 

 “So?” The princess spoke up, tilting her head at Marlene. “I trust I look pretty and comfortable?” The handmaiden pressed her lips together to stifle her snicker and nodded, “as always, highness.”

 Her lips curved into a grin as she followed Marlene to the vanity, sighing as she plopped down onto the stool, letting her handmaiden pull and tug at her hair and batter her face in as much makeup as she desired. As she was putting on the finishing touches to the princess’ makeup, three knocks rapped on the outside of the bedroom door and she glanced over at it from the corners of her eyes, sighing. 

 “Peter, no doubt,” she mumbled, “come in!”

 The door swung open and, really to no one’s surprise, in came Peter, eyeing the pocket watch in his hand. “You, your highness, have approximately five minutes before your father expects you to be down in the dining hall for brunch. Unfortunately, he asked that I escort you down there today.”

 She narrowed her eyes over at Peter as Marlene dabbed a little more blush to her nose and held her chin as she fought the urge to sneeze. “You always escort me, Peter,” she replied while Marlene stepped out of the way to allow her to gaze at herself in the mirror. 

 “Yes, and every time is more unfortunate than the last,” she watched Peter sigh and stuff his pocket watch into his coat through the mirror. 

 She rolled her eyes, “charming.”

 She turned back to face herself in the mirror, eyeing the way her hair curled, the way the corset of her dress squeezed her waist so tight, her bosoms had no choice but to press against the neckline of her gown. Marlene clasped a golden chain around her neck and her gaze ventured down to the dark pendant resting just below the space between her collarbones. It was a gift from Lord Sirius, she recalled, from the very first day they had met only a few years before when she was the age of sixteen and Sirius eighteen. He had officially become a Lord then, and despite it being his day, still insisted the royal princess be given the necklace. The corners of her mouth twitched at the memory. “Are you alright, highness?’ Marlene asked from beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder to help stir her from her daze. The princess clasped her hand around the pendant, her pad of her thumb soothing over the obsidian as she nodded, glancing up at the handmaiden.

 “Three minutes, highness,” Peter’s voice cut through the moment like a knife and her expression deflated again, turning around on the stool to face him. “Lord Sirius is waiting, may I remind you.”

 Her smile was quick to return to her lips. “Well, why didn’t you say so!” The princess exclaimed, practically leaping from her seat as she ambled towards the door, grasping the handle and swinging it open. She could hear Peter call her name as she lifted her dress and jogged down the corridor, peering back over her shoulder as Peter scrambled after her, Marlene on his left. “Slow down!” Peter called after her as she made her way down the staircase, nearly losing her balance on the skirt of her gown had it not been for Marlene clutching her elbow, allowing her to stumble into the railing.

 “Careful, princess!” Marlene hissed. “I didn’t spend all that time prettying you up for you to fall straight onto your face!” 

 She giggled and gripped the railing, walking the rest of the way down the staircase. “Sorry Marlene.”

 “Sorry Mar– how about sorry Peter!” Peter hissed behind them as he finally clambered down the stairs, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. “Here I am— just doing my job! Why must you be so insolent…”

 “Oh, but Peter! Were you not the one trying to rush me?” She asked as they approached the dining hall, turning around to face him, her arms crossed over her chest. “You wouldn’t want to displease mother and father now, would you?” She laced her fingers together behind her back and grinned at the Royal Advisor as he sneered, stepping past her to push open the doors to the dining hall. “Princesses,” she just caught him muttering beneath his breath before following close behind, her parents and Sirius talking ahead. 

 Her smile widened when Sirius turned, dark gaze swift to catch hers, his lips curling into his own grin. “Your highness!” He exclaimed as she approached, a hand behind his back as with his other, he gingerly took her hand, bowing and placing a kiss to the back of it. “Always a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 Her eyes rolled at the formalities, a knowing glint in his eyes of dark obsidian when he lifted his chin. “You look beautiful. And what a pretty necklace,” he commented as she slipped her hand away from his, exhaling a laugh through her nostrils. “It was a gift from a dear friend. And you look very dashing. What shade of black are you wearing this time, Lord Sirius?” Sirius tipped his head back to laugh at this as her parents approached, her mother’s arm draped around her father’s. 

 “Nearly late, my dear,” the King said as she approached, rolling onto the tips of her toes to press a kiss to her father’s cheek. She furrowed her brow, “not quite. Peter made sure I was right on time, isn’t that right?” She turned towards where Peter stood to the side of the hall, his lips twisted in a tight-lipped grin to mask the sneer twitching at his lips. “Of course, highness,” he bowed his head, an eyelid narrowing in spite of the princess. 

 “Yes, well, I do suppose you’re hungry then? I’ve had Tobias make our famous meat stew for us today,” the Queen gestured towards the grand dining table, following close behind her husband as they circled around the table, finding their seats. Sirius stepped aside to allow the princess before him and her face illuminated with a soft grin as she ambled past, the Lord close behind. Before she could settle herself in her seat beside her father, Sirius reached out and closed his hand around the back of her chair, bowing his head when she turned to face him. 

 “Allow me, your highness,” he insisted and when she cocked an eyebrow at him, he flashed an eyelid in a wink, the corners of his lips twitching in an amused grin. She rolled her eyes as she bowed her head, murmuring her gratitude, voice laced in sarcasm. They both settled themselves in their seats as the royal house elves began placing down plates and silverware whilst she folded a handkerchief in her lap. An elf poured red wine in her father’s goblet and the King eyed Lord Sirius from over the rim of the cup. 

 “Lord Sirius, tell me,” her father began as a house elf placed a bowl of meat stew before her. “How is the trade?”

 She deflated at the topic of discussion, glancing over at Sirius as he spoke to her father. It had been awhile since she last saw him, a few months, at least. He hadn’t changed much, perhaps other than his raven black hair must have gotten longer. But when she looked closer, he seemed… tired, evident from the faint but somewhat visible circles beneath his eyes. It certainly didn’t take any away from his charming glow, no, he was still, in fact, as handsome as ever. Perhaps he just had a rough night, she thought to herself. Perhaps it was best not to ask. 

 Sirius must’ve felt her gaze on his pale skin, for he took almost every chance he could get to sneak glances her way, his lips twitching in levity as he listened to the King rant on and on about trade and merchants and whatnot. Quite frankly, she couldn’t find it within herself to care about anything her father said– she missed her friend, she missed Sirius. She was absolutely itching to finally get to talk to him again.

 A silence fell over the table for a fleeting moment and she turned away from Sirius to face her parents, her mother’s hand on her father’s arm, their lips unmoving but their connected gaze communicating every unspoken word. She furrowed her brow at this, wiping her lips with her handkerchief, her heart suddenly lurching in her chest. If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that silence was never good.

 “Should we tell him, dear?” Her mother finally murmured close to her father’s ear and somehow, she seemed to already know the direction the conversation was about to take. The King shifted in his seat and set his goblet back down onto the table, a soft grin on his lips as he looked from his daughter back to Sirius.

 “Lord Sirius, it is to my understanding that you have met King Fleamont and his son James, yes?” Her father inquired, cocking an eyebrow as he awaited a response. Suddenly, she didn’t seem to have much of an appetite. Her gaze fell to her lap and as Sirius shifted in his seat, she snuck a glimpse over to the man beside her. “Yes, your majesty,” Sirius replied, a brow raised quizzically. “Tell me, what do you make of them?” The King asked and she shuddered in her seat, her skin feeling hot like wax. 

 Why would he bring her betrothal up now of all times?

 A silence loomed once again as Sirius pondered his reply, his tongue swiping over his teeth as he eyed the bowl of near empty stew before him. He could sense the princess’ sudden discomfort but alas, as much as he wanted to change the subject for his dear friend’s sake, he and she both knew it would do neither of them well to ignore the King.

 “They’re good people,” he finally replied, nodding his head. “Wealthy. Powerful.”

 This seemed to please her father and she fiddled with her fingers in her lap as he hummed, leaning back in his seat. “It pleases me to hear that,” he replied, Sirius’ addled expression certainly not going unnoticed. “I ask you this, Lord Sirius, because your family has been dear friends to ours for generations, and I do believe in your better judgment.”

 Sirius nodded along, still somewhat confused but silent, anxiously waiting for the King to continue. The princess’ heart was thundering in her ears now and her chest burned, as if she’d been kissed by flames. She really did not like where the conversation was going now. 

 “I’ve accepted King Fleamont’s proposal to wed the princess to Prince James, you see.”

 She exhaled the breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding in, suddenly feeling the meat stew and wine bubbling in acid at her throat. She felt like she’d been set aflame, like she was the lava oozing over the mouth of a volcano. She wanted to move, she wanted to leave, she wanted to run.

 But her legs wouldn’t move. She was frozen, glued, stuck to her seat. 

 Sirius tried to mask his surprise, sneaking a swift glance down to the princess, able to sense her nerves just by the way she breathed, the way she seemed frozen still. 

 “You’ve… accepted, already?” Sirius stammered out, clearing his throat and hoping to play his apprehension off. He looked between the King and the Queen as they both shared glances, their daughter’s behavior certainly not going unnoticed yet, neither of them made any move to comfort her. It made Sirius almost tremble in anger— he knew better than to think they’d care for her, this was technically her destiny, after all. 

 But was it fair? Sirius wasn’t so sure. 

 “Yes, the prince should be arriving in two to three days’ time,” the King continued, scooping his goblet back up in his hand, taking a swig of wine. “He‘ll be staying in the castle for a few weeks and I do hope you’re able to stop by every so often, I’m sure he could use a friend, someone he already knows.”

 He was speaking as if she weren’t there, as if her mind wasn’t feeling, her heart drumming so fast she’d fear it was prone to explode at any given moment. Of course she’d heard of her betrothal in passing but to hear it now, to hear her parents speak of it so casually, to think that they have made their own decision without having so much as a word with her… she wished she could disappear, she wished she could be anywhere but here. 

 She turned her head, glancing over at Sirius as he cleared his throat, catching her gaze for a brief moment before turning to acknowledge the King once again. He pressed his lips together and hummed, “of course, your majesty,” he replied. “Also, I think you ought to know, I recall the prince particularly fancying lamb.”

 He was trying to change the subject, for the princess’ sake, of course. Fortunately, the Queen took the bait and began interrogating him over everything the prince fancies or doesn’t fancy or what he thinks the prince might come to fancy, meanwhile the princess was still trying to anchor herself down to the conversation at hand. She was doing her best to make it seem like she was there even if she was, in fact, not. The dining hall seemed to fade away, her mother, her father, Peter, Marlene, Sirius, everyone along with it. Sirius’ attempt at changing the topic of discussion became nothing more than a mere background murmur, her vision blurring to watercolor. 

 All she wanted was for brunch to be over, to speak to Sirius and Sirius alone. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could take sitting here, having marriage beat into her head before her tears slipped down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she knew Marlene worked so hard on. She couldn’t take one of her mother’s lectures either about how princesses shouldn’t cry, how she was ridiculous and stupid for being so upset over marriage. How she should feel proud, honored that such a well-off, handsome young prince was her betrothed. 

 All she wished to do now was curl into a ball, even willing the very chair she sat on to absorb her until she was nothing. Disappearing was better than having to exist in a world that has already written her destiny for her, she supposed. 

 The princess sniffled as the King and Queen rose from their seats, turning to speak to Tobias, one of the many royal house elves and the main chef. Sirius was swift to seize the moment, reaching for her hand beneath the table and sliding his fingers into her closed fist, the pad of his thumb soothing over her skin. 

 “Are you alright?” He asked in a soft murmur and she pressed her lips together, willing her weeping to remain lodged in her throat, her body trembling with the effort. She couldn’t reply, for if she opened her lips, she would most certainly break into a fit of loud, violent sobs. So, instead, her tears fell silently in river streams down her cheeks, her head shaking in response. 

 Sirius glanced up to where the King and Queen stood with Tobias and Peter, their backs all turned to the two who remained at the table. Marlene was standing off in the corner of the room, trying to make it seem like she wasn’t watching the Lord and the princess. Sirius wouldn’t have minded if she was— all he cared about was his dear friend. His free arm wrapped itself around her shoulders and pulled her quivering body against him, briefly maneuvering his hand out of hers to wipe at her tears with the back of his knuckles. 

 “There, there,” he whispered as he let her squeeze his hand again, inhaling deep through her nose, doing her best to gather her composure. 

 “I can’t do this, Sirius,” she hardly managed to whimper, her lips trembling. “I don’t… I don’t want this.”

 His hand gripped her shoulder as she sniffed again, dabbing at her under eyes with her handkerchief, praying to whoever it was above that she still looked presentable. Sirius pulled away when the King turned to address him again and the princess blinked away all the tears she could as she rose from her seat, standing beside him. 

 Marlene rushed towards the princess as Sirius quickly divided the King and Queen’s attention away from their daughter, an arm wrapped around her shoulders where Sirius’ had been, using her handkerchief to dab at the smeared makeup on her cheeks. “Your highness…” she murmured, the princess sniffing, furiously rubbing at her tear-stained cheeks. 

 “This isn’t going to happen, Marls,” she whispered. “I won’t let it.”

 Remus’ bones cracked and ached as he stirred awake, a soft grunt slipping between his lips and his eyelids squeezed together, the sunlight pouring inside the room straining his eyes. It was well past morning— that much Remus could gather, which wasn’t uncommon after waking up from a night of great pain. 

 He laid there for a number staring up at the ceiling, wishing he could lie around in bed all day, wallowing in his own pity. But his father would be wondering where he was, he supposed, and he never wanted to seem like he was intruding on Sirius or taking advantage of his friend. 

 So, despite his creaking bones and aching limbs, he pushed his way onto his elbows, hissing through his teeth as he managed himself up into a sitting position. He paused for a moment to gather himself, blinking the rest of the sleep away from his eyes while his mouth parted in a yawn. He rolled his neck as he swung his throbbing legs over the side of the mattress, stumbling onto his feet and tidying the bed to the best of his ability.  

 He strode up to the mirror on the opposite side of the room, running his fingers through the wild mess of unkempt brown locks atop his head, his mind still a foggy haze from sleep. He didn’t loiter much longer, staying long enough to fix his coat back on his shoulders, pawing at the sleeves as he crept his way down the steps of the home and towards the back door. He’d grown used to this routine, Sirius’ house always his haven when he had transformation-related pain, never wanting to burden his father more than he already had. 

 The sun gleamed down at him as Remus stepped out onto the street, its light kissing his skin and making his eyes narrow. He breathed the autumn chill in, his lungs full of crisp air and burning like tree bark. His house was on the other side of the village— the poor side, to put it bluntly, of course. Before meeting Sirius— which was completely by chance, for the record— Remus never dared set foot on this side of town, never dared even look at this part of the village. He was bitter then and admittedly, still bitter now. How could some be so well off and comfortable when there were others hardly getting by, hardly even living at all?

 He assumed all people of wealth were snobs, that they sneered at the mere thought of the less fortunate ones. Which was why it came as a total shock when he met Sirius to learn that he was a Lord, one of the wealthiest in the village, in fact, and that he was so close to the royal family. It would’ve been enough to make Remus wrinkle his nose in disgust and wish to never see him again— which was why he was so surprised when he realized that he didn’t push Sirius away. 

 Remus huffed as he turned down his street, his dingy, little house one of the many on the poor, beaten-down road. He passed by many of his neighbors, sparing them not even so much as a glance as he padded up to his front door— which was leaning to the side and falling off its hinges. Carefully, he twisted the knob and pushed open the wooden door, its creak permeating the small room he had no other choice but to call home. 

 “Remus?” A low, husky voice called from the other side of the room where Lyall Lupin sat in a rickety old wooden rocking chair, his fingernails burrowing further in the divets they’d already created in the arm rests. “Is that you?”

 “Yes, father,” Remus replied as the door slammed shut behind him, its bang loud and scattering dust. “Where have you been?” Lyall questioned as Remus shuffled his feet towards the paper thin mattress he called a bed, its size not nearly big enough to hold his long legs. “You didn’t come home at all last night.”

 Remus cupped a hand on the back of his neck and rolled his head, lips falling agape in a soft sigh at the delicious crack of his bones. “I’m fine, dad,” he responded, reaching for his knapsack tucked away in the corner behind his bed. “I was just out… thinking.”

 Of course his father appeared skeptical of this, his mustache twitching as he twisted his lips and narrowed his eyes over at his son. “You’re not hurting again, are you?” Lyall asked. “The full moon isn’t for another couple of weeks, you shouldn’t be—“

 “I said I’m fine, dad!” Remus’ voice thundered and shook the walls of their home and he sighed, dropping his head as he shouldered his oversized coat back onto his frame. “I’m not a child anymore, you don’t have to worry about me.”

 Lyall’s teeth chewed at the inside of his lip as he pondered what to say next, his tongue twisting in his mouth. “You are my son, Remus. My duty as your father is to worry about you,” he began. “Your mother— your mother, she… she—“

 Remus was like the frayed end of a rope as a flame rolled down the length, at the end of his limit and ready to pop. He wasn’t sure if it was his transformation pushing him to his limit or if he was just tired, but all he knew was that he couldn’t take it anymore, squeezing his eyelids shut before turning on his father, skin hot and blaring with frustration. 

 “Mum’s not here anymore, dad! When will you open your eyes and see that?” He practically roared, the walls shaking with the aftershocks of his fervor and Lyall’s lips snapped back closed. His father’s lids were blown wide, his fingers were rolled into his palms, his bottom lip was quivering, and his chest was heaving with his irregular breathing— in Remus’ eyes, this was fear. 

 His father was afraid of him. 

 And once again, Remus was reminded of how much of a burden he was to everyone he knew. 

 Neither Remus nor Lyall said anything more as the former turned on his heels to make his way back towards the creaking door, a shaking hand tugging it wide open and letting it fall shut behind him as he stepped back out onto the street, uncaring if it fell straight off its hinges. He couldn’t be here, not at his home, not in this village, anywhere. He needed to be alone— so he went to the only place he knew. 

 Remus maneuvered his way between crumbling buildings and withered handcarts as he ventured further into the outskirts of town where the forest outstretched its arms at the sight of him, welcoming him into its embrace. 

a/n; i'm sorry the first chapter was rather uneventful but i can say with certainty that the next chapter will be where all the fun begins :) i still hope you were able to enjoy chapter one and i thank you all for your support on the prologue, it makes me so happy to see you guys already feeling hype for this story! i certainly hope i won't let you down :) and remember to fill out the taglist form in my pinned post if you'd like to be added to this series' taglist!

TAGLIST !!

@cancelledkaley

@burns-in-the-sun

🫶✨

[sinsandsweetness]

hi. idk if you’d be down to take it on but i would really like some gentle smut or just some fluff with daryl x fem!reader. him taking care of her in whatever way you see fit.

my mental health has taken a beating this week and sometimes i like to pretend he’d take care of me in his dixon sorta way.

if not, that’s absolutely okay. thank you regardless. ♡

I’m sorry your mental health has been tough on you lately, baby. I’m honoured if my blog can act as an outlet to escape for a little while <3

I went with fluff/comfort because I’m just in that kinda mood so… enjoy sweetheart (and feel free to check out @daenysx and @writella for some soft/gentle smut as well)

Wiping your runny nose with your sleeve, you take a few deep breaths and attempt to compose yourself. Knowing that Daryl would be home any minute now. You didn’t feel like being questioned about your tears. Rolling your sleeves up, you dip your hands into the hot soapy water, grabbing the nearest plate and getting to work on it. Using the sponge in your other hand to scrub the porcelain a borderline excessive amount. Rinsing the dish off under a cooler stream, watching all the bubbles swirl down the drain, before placing it on a clean towel, laid out on the counter.

You hear the front door open and close. Taking a deep breath you try to calm yourself even further before the man sees your glossy eyes and flushed face.

You grab a glass and begin cleaning the rim, then the inside, twisting the sponge in order to reach the bottom of the cup.

Within a minute, you feel strong, leather covered arms wrap around your waist, as Daryl rests his chin you your shoulder. You let out an involuntary sigh at his touch. So warm and comforting. Something you’d been craving all day.

His beard tickles your skin as he presses sweet kisses down your neck.

Finally, after the cup is rinsed and placed alongside the other clean dishes, you turn slightly to press a kiss to his lips.

Immediately he notices your slightly disheveled state, though he refrains from reacting too harshly.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, reaching up and swiping a thumb over your cheek.

You shake your head, feeling the tears starting to well once again.

“Hey, sweetie, c’mhere,” he spins you around and tucks your head into his chest, as your arms find themselves snaking under his jacket and pulling him in close. “Let me finish these.”

You look up at him to thank him, and notice a shiner on his right eye that definitely wasn’t there before he left the house that morning.

“Dare…”

“It’s nothin’,” he insists, way too focused on you to even start to explain the day he just had.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s go for a walk. You can tell me about your day, then I’ll tell you about mine. And we can see who’s is worse.” He jokes and you stifle a wet laugh into his chest.

“Going by the state of your face, I’m putting my money on yours.” You mumble.

He huffs an amused breath and tips your chin up to kiss you once more. Soft and slow and everything you need. He grabs your hands and starts tugging you towards the porch, leaving the dishes for when the two of you get back and he has you smiling and laughing instead.

“Come with me and you’ll find out.”

[gliphyartfan]

@yanderelinkeduniverse @stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes @eternadreeblissa @justanerd1

(Runs in, throws post in your face and runs back into the void. Plot bunnies chasing after me)

How many times will you watch it Fall young warrior? 

As many times as it takes to leave this place.

.

.

.

She watched him mutter as he meandered through the town. 

"Finish the temple..obtain...speak to...reset everything." 

He seemed to become more and more erratic after the first 3 days. 

 He kept muttering to himself in a way that made it sound like gibberish. Barely acknowledged her. (Though to be fair she deserved it for helping Skull kid steal from him) Yet the very first day he arrived, he walked around aimlessly as if in a daze. It looked as if something was wrong with him.

 (Perhaps being turned into a Deku scrub affected him more than she thought?) 

Then on day 2 she saw him standing out near the Laundry pool for most of the afternoon, staring up at the clouded sky with an empty expression on his face. 

 She had never seen a stranger looking so lost before, let alone a kid. She couldn't help it; she felt bad. 

So on day 3, she tried to talk to him, tried to distract herself from her nerves, distance herself from the nearing moon and trembling grounds. She barely pulled him out of his strange trance at times and have him look at her. 

Any words she had wanted to say shriveled away when he looked at her with such sad yellow eyes. "Um, I-" she started, but she would trail off as he kept staring at her, before slowly continuing his dazed walk. 

She watched as he found a stray fairy and healed the great fairy in North Clock Town, gaining the blessing of magic from her.

She didn't say a word on the third day as the boy turned Deku scrub took slow steps towards the stairs that led up to the top of the tower. 

She kept a brave face as they confronted Skull Kid, allowing her anger to boost her confidence when he hurt her brother, yet panic swept through her as he used the mask's powers to begin the moon's collapse.

Yet the green clad boy didn't panic. 

He just used a Bubble Blast to knock the Ocarina out of Skull Kid's hands, scooped it up, and summoned up pipes to play.

She wanted to ask what he was even thinking (how could he play music at a time like this?) 

But light filled her vision as he played the final note. Felt this sense of weightlessness that could only come from falling, and suddenly, she was staring at the now distant moon, the busy workers continuing their construction.

 She was in the past. Back to the first day of their arrival. Her gaze swept through the area, trying to find an answer as to what had happened. 

Has it been a dream? No, her heart was still racing, she could not have dreamt something so frightening. 

And Link? He merely turns his back to the town and pushes through the doors behind him and makes his way inside the tower. 

"H-Hey!" 

Tatl rushed after him as he approached the ever grinning merchant. 

----

(The Gods have use for you still, young warrior. Yet despite heeding their call, you walk a path that they are utterly blind to.)

Let them continue to be blind. Their arrogance will only benefit me and mine. 

(Such confidence, or is that not arrogance as well? What is the difference between you and the Gods?)

I'm willing to be beaten down if it means never making the same mistakes again. 

(…Curious.)

Aren’t you the same? 

(…)

----

The fairy had thought the boy's strangeness would ease off after he was changed back, but it just seemed to worsen.

 When before he had been a muttering mess, he was now almost always silent. and when he did speak, he sounded different. More monotone. 

The only time he talked normally, or pretended to talk normally, was when he was dealing with someone's request. 

It shouldn't have disturbed her to see the light in his eyes fade when he left the eyesight of whoever he spoke to. 

It was as if…he was playing a part. 

 As if, like an actor, he was pretending to be someone else. But why? It was as if...he was playing some elaborate game, why wasn't he saying something? Anything? 

What was he thinking about? "Link?"

Dull, empty, lifeless eyes turned to look at her.  A stare, devoid of any warmth or emotion

."Hello…there." Tatl waves a hand at his face,"Um…what are you gonna do?"

The boy just stared at her before turning back to continue onward.

"...Do you need anything?", she asked hesitantly, "Do you even know where to go?." Tatl commented. 

"...Yes." A response! 

 She had gotten him to respond !!! "Really!?"Tatl questioned in disbelief, "Yes." The child repeated.

 "But where are we going?" She asked, fluttering a little bit closer to him. Link didn't seem to care and continued walking as if she weren't even there.

"...Woodfall Temple."

The young fairy blinked. "Huh..?".She looked at him in surprise, then turned to look back down. 

"But...how do you know that?"  she asked. 

"...An owl told me." He answered simply, still staring ahead. 

An owl? They hadn’t met any owls…

The wind blew slightly and rustled the bushes behind them...

…and she didn't have the courage to ask him for further details. 

And as he continued to walk forward, it showed he didn't seem to care enough to provide them. 

-----

(Do you think you could be forgiven for your sins against the one you supposedly hold dear?)

No…but that won't stop me from making amends. 

(Is it worth it, for one mere soul?)

For Her, I would freely allow the world to End if that is what She wished. 

(...)

and I am not the only one with such beliefs. 

(No...I suppose you aren't.)

---

He seemed to know exactly where to go, who to speak to, what to do. 

Tatl felt utterly useless, even her knowledge of the enemies weren't of use. 

The boy seemed to have no trouble with all the monsters he battled. He fought them as if he dealt with them his whole life. 

 And the monsters that festered in the temples, there was no way he could have known how to deal with them. Yet he did. With experience. 

Experience he shouldn't have. Experience that there was no way he could have. 

So all she could do was hover awkwardly nearby as she watched him continue on his way. 

She felt utterly useless, she couldn't help him with anything, nothing at all!

 All she could do was..observe him, waiting until something happened, hoping that nothing else bad happened, then move forward.

She was lost in her thoughts as dull blue glanced over at her silently. 

-----

(Your memory of her. Such a curious thing. What beholds you to such a small soul? When there are others with more power and prestige that would freely offer themselves to you?)

If you need to ask me such questions, then you are as blind to what makes her soul beautiful as those that would ‘freely offer themselves to me’. 

(…)

-----

Link supposed he was being a bit cruel…towards someone he was meant to consider a friend. Yet her presence, the presence of Termina as a whole, simply reminded him of how far he was from where he belonged. 

 He knew (How could he not with what he experienced?) how long it would take to reach his destination. Yet that only emphasized how much time remained before everything was right again. 

For the past several weeks he had been wandering aimlessly between areas. Occasionally taking requests from people. It was odd, how familiar he has become to the sensation of being the only one who was ever aware of what truly transpired. 

It was a dull sense of familiarity, of knowing he would remain the only one who remembered the knowledge of what would come and what would not, and had, passed. Normally such a thing wouldn't have bothered him, not anymore at least.

But then again, normally, his being wasn't screaming that he was going insane. Normally his mind wasn't screaming out for the others his sword brothers, the only ones who would understand how he was currently feeling because She was not. Here.

He wondered what was happening with them right now, were they in the same boat as him? Trapped in a past that had long since passed for them? Trapped in a point in time where their memories were the only proof of the trials they had overcome? 

Trapped in another time period where their choices had taken them down a path away from the quiet lives they had once lived? 

Perhaps…trapped in time which had once been their home. Their home which was now so familiar yet so…foreign.

The memories held by so many…now only held by them. 

It was a burden he wouldn't wish on his sword brothers. Yet it was one he selfishly prayed for. 

 To make himself feel better perhaps.

That maybe, in a way, he was not alone in this cruel fate. 

Perhaps they too walked forward, waiting to reunite with each other. 

Yet no amount of self-comfort could push aside the fact that...he was alone...for the first time in so long, he was alone...and he hated it so much. 

 His brothers were gone. The uncertainty of whether or not they would retain their memories left him off-kilter. 

And Termina... 

Termina.

How this land taunted him greatly. 

Striving forward yet trapped in a cycle that forced him to continuously stand still. 

Each day passing yet the sense of tomorrow never truly arriving. 

It left him desperate. Desperate for some semblance of connection...control…

Some kind of reason to get out of his own head.

Desperate to stop feeling. Desperate to let go of this burden weighing on his shoulders. Desperate to leave this place...desperate to return.

Desperate to return to the world he knew... 

 To regain what he had lost.

Because of the fear that he could have lost it forever.

That he would be the only one to even remember, in life and in death…it swirled within his heart. 

And it terrified him. 

It terrified him so much. 

So he just allowed the memories of this cruel place to lead his body forward. 

The paths and foes here ingrained in his memories so deeply, that traversing this place was easier blindfolded than not. 

In the end, while he felt some sense of guilt for treating Tatl distantly. He did not care. 

She would leave in the end anyway. 

So he wasn't going to waste his efforts escaping this place just to appease her feelings. 

In a land where 3 days was too much yet never enough. 

He just didn't have the time to waste on useless things. 

—

—

(What would you give in order to protect her?)

What would I need to give you in order to protect her? 

(So quick to return the question, would you truly offer something precious to me for her sake Young warrior?)

If you must ask me...

(....Then I suppose I must not be seeing what is clearly there.)

My memories, my heart, are open to you, you know this…make use of that privilege. 

(...I suppose I shall.)

—

"Hmhmhm~ What a rather curious fate you've been handed." 

"Has my fate piqued your interest?" was the young, yet far too old, hero's reply to that. 

"Quite so! There is something fascinating about you….the fact that you seem to be rather familiar with the item I am asking you to seek...with this whole land in fact…" The ever-grinning salesman commented, "You seem to always have an answer or word at the tip of your tongue to placid anyone who interacts with you, even me." 

"Perhaps I have a knack for picking up on conversations and people," Link replied. His voice was calm and steady, his eyes focused on the turning gears above them. He had asked Tatl to wait outside for him when the smiling man requested a moment to speak. 

Link wasn't bothered, not like he was short on time. 

"Yes, yes! Indeed you must!" The merchant exclaimed, "And you are correct about our current conversation." He stated, grinning down at the boy in front of him.

"You are a curiosity I wish to 'pick apart' so to speak. you seem to have quite the experience with the task I've presented you." 

Link nodded, "I'm used to situations like this. So, what will you gain from such a conversation?"

"The satisfaction of my curiosity sated, of course." 

"I suppose you'll be sad to know you're in for disappointment." 

A chuckle filled Link's ears, the man smiled as if he was enjoying some joke Only he understood. Then he leaned in close, grin seeming to grow wider. 

"You seem to know a lot about me." The man remarked.

"More than I'd like to," Link answered back calmly.

"Such an interesting response!" Link simply shrugged.

"So child, will you humor my curiosity?"

"...Well, since you seem insistent..." The merchant laughed. 

"Of course! Of course!" 

Link looked at him properly, "Alright…”

"So what do you want to know?"

"Well..."

.

..

...

…..

...

..

.

Tatl waited patiently outside for Link, she had been hovering by the water when she saw the doors of the Clock Tower open, she flew over as Link walked out,  her gaze fixed on his form.

She frowned as she took notice of the strange expression he wore, almost as if he were troubled...

She flew beside him, watching him quietly. Link turned his head slightly to look at her briefly before looking forward once more.

 His lips were pressed into a thin line, frowning in thought.

Tatl blinked in confusion. Did the strange man upset him somehow?

Her wings fluttering anxiously behind her. She reached up to put her hand gently on his shoulder but then quickly withdrew. Her hands folded together.

"Link…." She murmured softly. Her brow furrowing. Did she try to make him talk with her? Or was something more wrong?

Did something happen that she had not noticed?

Was he thinking about everything that's happened to him since arriving in Termina?

"Hey…" She called, swallowing her hesitation and lightly tapping his shoulder, trying to catch his attention, "What's wrong?"

Link glanced over at her and shook his head slightly. Then he moved forward. Tatl followed along with him, her eyes never leaving the back of his head as he continued onwards.

—-

---

(So quick to flee, young warrior.)

..That man will always unsettle me. 

(It is not monsters you feel the need to flee from, nor gods...yet a mortal such as he is enough to send you off to the hills.)

Monsters are simple, they have only one aim, to kill any and all for their master. 

(…)

Man, on the other hand, can unsettle even a God with the right words. 

(You think yourself a god?)

Never. 

(...Apologies…that's right...only one holds such a position in your heart.)

And only one.

---

Link stared into the masks covering the moon children's faces as he tracked each of them down.

-Your friends…

What kind of... people are they?

I wonder…

Do those people…

think of you... as a friend?-

(My brothers, My lady...to ask such a thing would be to diminish the value of what I, what we, believe in.)

-You…

What makes you... happy? 

I wonder…

What makes you happy…

Does it make... others happy, too?-

(The happiness of others has long ceased to matter to me. My brothers...My Lady…All I wish is to be with those who have long earned my trust, loyalty, and devotion.) 

-The right thing…

What is it?

I wonder…

If you do the right thing…

Does it really make…

everybody... happy?-

(My first attempt at the right thing nearly cost me a place in her heart and bond between my brothers. My second attempt cost my brothers and I everything. I pray there will never be another attempt after this.) 

-Your true face…

What kind of... face is it?

I wonder…

The face under the mask…

Is that... your true face?-

(When was the last time I looked at my face and thought of it as mine? When did my child face become that of a stranger's to me? Perhaps the face beneath this child's mask only shows when united with my brothers. Perhaps my true face only shows when blessed with Her presence.)

—

—

He walked calmly towards the last moon child sitting at the base of the tree. 

‘Do you want to play with me?’

"No." He answered. "But you want to play with me." 

‘...Everyone has gone away, haven't they?’

"They all chose to play somewhere else, yes." 

‘You don't have any mask left...do you?’

"No..none left...but you have a mask that you want to give me, don't you?" The child nodded.

"Then, give me the mask, and then let's play a game together. Good guys against Bad guys." Link then smiled at the child, smiled in a way that didn't fit on his own child-like face. 

"I'll be the bad guy.”

The moon child stared at him silently, before slowly tilting their head. 

‘Yes...Let's play that.’

Link held out his hand and the moon child stood and placed a mask in his grasp. 

The moon child watched as he stared down at the Deity's mask, his face blank, his attention focused within. 

Whatever the child saw was enough to please them and they spoke once more.

'Are you ready?' Link swallowed and nodded. 

"Yeah." 

'You're the bad guy…’

'And when I'm bad, I just run." Link finished for him. 

The moon child nodded. 'That's fine, right?'

"Only if you're fine with being chased." Link answered back. 

The child's shoulders seemed to shake lightly in silent laughter.

'Well...shall we play?' Link bowed his head and smiled in amusement. 

"Fine...Let's Play." And with those words, he placed the mask on his face.

Almost instantaneously, the fledgling (-flayed, torn, should have never been severed-) bond that had lingered weakly within the depths of his mind since he awoke in Kokiri Village, the bond that (barely) kept him from falling into the lies this world tried to trap him into believing-

(What had kept him sane during a period when he didn't have any proof other than his turbulent memories of a time that no longer existed.) 

-It all solidified. The presence within the mask, potent, powerful, deadly, surged forth and wrapped around his mind in such familiarity, he would almost be willing to admit he missed. 

(-Young Warrior...My vessel...-) 

For a moment the illusion of wholeness trapped Link in it's hold. 

 But only for a moment. More than enough time to make him choke just before his body began to transform.

 …It seemed this land was fated to always make him feel something. 

-Rest Young Vessel.- The Deity of Ferocious War spoke to the boy whose body the god claimed as His. 

...Or rather…was it instead the Boy, who claimed the deity? 

Their bond was strong, their minds united in this form. It did not matter who claimed who. 

All that mattered was the eradication of the one who would dare threaten that connection. 

The child was claimed by him from this very moment, and the god was now free to wage battle once more.

And as Majora stood before him, the Fierce Deity raised his sword. 

Blood roared within him to bring ruin upon this beast that dared attempt dominance over him and his.

---

---

Link stared at the sky for what felt like hours. The moon no longer visible within the early dawn. 

There is nothing much left to see out here in this land.

The sun would rise every morning, bathing this world in its warmth. 

The moon would rise every night, lighting the darkness with its gentle glow. 

Time finally moved forward in this land once again. 

Which meant..it was time for him to move on from this place. 

In a way…he'd miss Tatl. He had been happy to see her again, even if he had become so different from the boy she had gotten to know in another life. 

But she is back with her brother, and they are friends again with Skullkid. 

At least for Tatl, her parting with them had been short. 

What a lucky gal, compared to him..

…

-

- -

- - - 

- - 

- 

"So what do you want to know?" he asked the mask merchant standing before him. 

"...Who are you?" the merchant asked.

"...I am Link."

He wasn't certain why the merchant asked that or who he was, but perhaps asking that question would give him some answers.

"...Are you?"  Link frowned, focusing on him more intently. 

A moment passed in silence while the merchant considered him. 

"Why do you travel child?" Link turned his eyes away. 

"To find someone precious to me." 

  Link said quietly, returning his eyes to the merchant after a moment. "Someone I love very dearly..."

"How far are you willing to go for such a person?"

"As far as they want me to go, and beyond."

"Where will you go next?"

Link shrugged. "I don't care as long as it's not this place." His eyes glancing back towards the gears above them. 

Another moment passed in silence.

"...I see.." the merchant muttered.

"…Do you?" Link asked.

The ever present smile grew on the merchant's face.  "I see...you are a lonely spirit...empty, unwhole." 

The merchant chuckled, "and you wish to seek answers to a puzzle hidden deep inside you, haunting you, and you have a chance of finding it if only you stay alive long enough to reach its conclusion."

 He continued to laugh at Link's expression. "Child," he continued, "if you were to continue living like this, you wouldn't survive until the end."

Link opened his mouth and closed it again, unsure whether or not to reply. 

"You need to let go of all that weighs upon you, or you'll drown."  Link remained silent, and the merchant smirked as he noticed the lack of response.

"This journey that you've set yourself on. You're trying to fill a hole that no one is willing to fill." 

"Shut it." Link muttered under his breath. 

"No one has been able to fill the space left by the absence of those who once filled that void inside you." The merchant clasped his hands in front of him. "Or rather, you refuse to allow anyone but the ones who once filled that void to hold such a place on your heart." 

"Enough." Link said, a bit louder. 

"You're looking for an answer to some questions, but not all answers can be found in this world."  

"You think I don't know that?" Link growled at him. 

"I know. But there are many worlds where the answers might be within your grasp...or the world you've lost might still be close enough for you to find, if you simply look."

"Stop talking nonsense."

Link turned his head away from the merchant and older man sighs deeply.

"Ah..Then allow me to ask you one last thing" the merchant asked softly. "What direction are you hoping to take?"

"Home." Link replied simply.

"And where is home?" 

"Far away." Link answered quietly.

The merchant hummed. 

"Far away? That is a vague description. Is there any particular location that you mean to return to?"

Link was silent. 

"...I see..." He said to the young boy. 

 "Despite your companion, you are indeed alone, aren't you?"

Link looked up at him, but still said nothing.

"You have many waiting for you." He continued, his eyes locked onto Link. "Is this something you desire?"

"..." Link clenched his fists and glared at the floor.

"You're going to walk away without any answers, and you will be forever confused." The Merchant stated.

"I've already found what answers I could find ..." Link said, almost sounding bitter.

"And yet you still cannot understand why."

"...I believe that's enough questions." Link said before turning to leave. 

He only took a few steps before the merchant spoke up.

"I'll tell you something that tickles my mind, then." Link glanced at him.

 "You are not alone in this."

Link tensed.

"Don't worry. Your companions will wait for you just as you wait for them."

"...How do you..." The Happy Mask Salesman chuckled, bowing to the boy. 

"...Perhaps one day you will realize the truth behind my words." 

-

- - 

- - - 

Link stroked Epona's mane, smiling softly as she whinnied and shook herself. 

Parting with Tatl had been numbing, though not as bittersweet as last time. He had given her a genuine smile and wished her and her brother all the happiness in the world. 

That had surprised her, he could easily tell, and she wished him luck in return. 

With a promise to Skullkid that he'd see him again, he left.  

And in spite of his best efforts to remain stoic, Link allowed himself the momentary break, allowing the tears that had threatened to spill fall freely as he buried his face into Epona's neck, inhaling deeply the scent of her coat.

He just wanted to return to everyone, he wanted to be united again. Termina had been crueler than the shift between his adult form and his child form. 

So much time wasted yet no time wasted at all.

Epona's comforting noises and her warmth was what he focused on to feel calm and secure in this moment. 

After some moments of silence he pulled away slowly, wiping his tears. He couldn't afford to be weak, no matter how much he wanted to be free of this curse…there was work to be done. He couldn't let himself get distracted.

So much time still needed to pass after all.

But it will pass…

…

…It will always pass.

[hyenasrcute]

Bitten

I knew the risks when I started dating a vampire. Bloodlust, occasional fits of aggression, lack of aging. All the things they teach you in the supernatural unit of seventh grade health. I always did get Bs in that class. Now I'm in some dingy motel room by the gas station wearing his jacket because mine was coated in my own blood and the smell was driving me insane. Last I remember is making out with him, feeling him against me. Then things got steamier, he started getting more aggressive. He bit me. Again: I knew the risks. I can only blame myself really. He even warned me when I asked him out: he had trouble controlling the thirst. A brief thought bubbles about calling Mom but I shake it away. How would I explain this? "Hey Mom, you know that vampire that you didn't want me dating? He bit me!" No. I can't tell her that. Put her through that. This is my fault, I got him riled up. I should've known better. The smell of my jacket from the tiny metal trash bin saunters it's way into my nose. No. I have to fight it. I need to get myself out of this. I can't let this ruin my plans. I got into Brown. I'm going to study ancient runes with a minor in art. I'm going to get a nice place in Gnome Acres and I'm going to be okay. A cough escapes my lips and blood splatters over my chest. I feel a sharp prick in my gums. I'm growing fangs. I wipe away the blood with a sweep of my tongue and spit it out on the floor. I can't bring myself to care about the poor cleaning pixie that will have to scrub it out of the carpet. I wonder where he is. Perhaps searching for another (ridiculous, stupid, naive) human kid to seduce. What's another another six months to an immortal? I wince as I feel a stabbing in my tongue. I stick it out to see it coated in coagulated viscera. I gag, practically upchucking it out of my mouth. After a cough or two I look at my tongue again. It's forked. A cold feeling enters my stomach. Like a stone being dropped down a mile long well. My body is being permanently altered. My tongue will never be circular again. My teeth will be sharp and jagged forever. I tear my tear filled eyes away from the ground towards the blinds. I think it'll be the lack of sun that'll get me. No more bright beach days with Mom. No more afternoon strolls. I won't get to feel the light bounce of my skin and warm my flesh ever again. Maybe thats why he was such a curmudgeon. The lack of sunlight. Or maybe it was just his natural disposition. Either way I guess I'll be finding out soon. I look at the blinds again. The previous dark navy that permeated the sky and peered through into the dingy room was slowly beginning to brighten. I know that it's time for me to leave but where am I supposed to go? I wrap his jacket tighter around me and stand up, my knees rattling slightly at the movement. As I step out of the motel room and stumble my way out of the parking lot I have no clue where I'm going. Nowhere feels safe anymore. Nobody. Another thought slithers in: I'm so thirsty.

There's a young man across the street.

[talesofsonicasura]

Glamorous Mishaps

Based on this post. I thought it be best to put my examples about Optimus Prime's mishap with glamour here since they're more story oriented. There will be three involving OCs of mine as I got other ideas for Self Insert. Now let's get started!

Transformers Prime: Oil and Sugar

Optimus Prime was a being of habit. It is quite rare to see him leave the base, much less rest. His current outing was one of those unique times as curiosity led the Autobot to explore Jasper. Optimus didn't mean to bump into the strange woman and knock the pastries from her arms. Nor find out why she smells like a rabbit.

First example is my rabbit yaoguai Tikki Cho, owner of the therapeutic Sweet Healing Bakery. A kindhearted motherly woman who prefers not to fight and settle issues peacefully. It doesn't mean Tikki will let people walk over her as the rabbit can suplex someone like Optimus in seconds.

She had recently settled into Jasper to open her bakery when our dear Prime enters the scene. Optimus decides to help Tikki set up shop mainly as an apology for his less than stellar greeting. The two become great friends with the Autobot Leader visiting in holoform whenever he can.

It's all fine and dandy until Megatron returns. A Vehicon attack forces Optimus Prime to reveal his true nature and take Tikki to base. Funnily enough, no one expected the human woman to become a big fluffy rabbit!

Optimus Prime: You aren't human?

Tikki Cho: I guess both of us had a secret, dear.

Here's what to expect!

Therapy for everyone! You can bet your ass Tikki is gonna get both bots and humans to healthily process trauma. If she happens to give sessions to some Decepticons, they consented.

Cybertronians underestimate the rabbit baker. It's all fun and games until the bunny kicks your bearings with boulder shattering strength. Or throw your metallic ass into a mountain as if a purse.

Bumbling mess Optimus Prime. Man clearly doesn't get enough positive affection and he has no idea how to properly react. He tends to blue screen as one hug from Tikki solidifies how touch starved he really is.

Sacred paperweight and eldritch Satan are afraid of a bakery owner. Breakdown quits cause "bunnies are better and fuck everyone except Knockdown". Deception Leader has misinterpreted jealousy fueled hate against Optimus' ward.

Transformers Animated: Don't Stop The Beat

It's very rare to find a shop in Detroit's mechanical central not run by a robot. Yet Koro Beats proudly stands booming with prosperous music selections. Although the shop owner would never expect her secret to become uncovered by a humble 'dropout'.

Here's our second OC guest, Kororo. A feisty and extremely blunt Deku Scrub who dislikes Hylia for taking away her god son Link. She left her world to set up shop in the TFAverse years before the events of the show began.

Kororo used to babysit Sari for Isaac and only the young girl knows about her true form. An involvement that leads to the Deku Scrub becoming entangled in the Autobots' lives during the search for Sari. She would honestly say it was like someone dumped three extra kids, an inexperienced young adult and a grumpy grandpa on her.

Kororo becomes Optimus' emotional support as it's clear he needs a friend around his age. Things turn out fine until Black Arachnia accidentally wreaks havoc with the All Spark. Kororo drops her human mask before Optimus and helps him save Sari.

Optimus Prime: Kororo, you're a small...tree person?

Kororo: Finally! Someone who doesn't mistake me for a dummy!

What to expect:

Autobots have a one Deku Scrub pep squad ready to throw hands. Sentinel Prime and Ultra Magnus are intimidated by this small tree woman as magic bubbles fired like bullets HURT. No one berates Optimus Prime with Kororo around.

Sari tries to parent trap music store owner with a giant robot. Both are so damn confused about the constant weird shenanigans happening. Ratchet puts a stop to it because one trap left him in an ugly yellow paint job.

"How To Accidentally Adopt Decepticons by a still confused Deku Scrub." Being nice to one Con having a bad day becomes a domino effect. Megatron and Starscream are so bewildered about the sudden decrease in numbers.

When your missing god son shows up at the door with your lost mask trapped deity friend. Link wonders how he suddenly got adopted into a family like this but doesn't mind. Optimus Prime somehow becomes a ward to a forgotten war god. More at 11.

Transformers Knightverse: Steel Magnolias

A shrine surrounded by roses. Optimus had been plague by the visage despite never encountering such a place. As he searches for clues about his scout's on this strange planet, Prime would stumble across a mysterious entity living secretly amongst the unaware humans.

The final OC for this glamour based mishaps, Rose Elysium or Rosa for short. An wandering emissary of chaos who travels dimensions searching for wonders. She only aids those that proves themselves worthy or gather her curiosity.

Optimus Prime stumbles across Rosa by sheer accident as he searches for Bumblebee. He constantly encounters the mysterious woman who helps him bit by bit whether it be his search or a companion to talk to. Only when the Autobot leader ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time does Rosa shed her mortal disguise to help him.

Optimus Prime: Are you an angel from human mythology?

Rosa: I may angelic but I am far from a simple angel.

What To Expect:

Million year old war veteran is claimed by an ancient eldritch entity. Those that earn Rosa's friendship or interest become her wards. No one should dare touch the claim of the divine as a fate worse than death awaits them.

Optimus Prime becomes accustom to seeing roses on a daily basis. A bed of flowers is more comfortable than the cold hard floor. Even a Prime needs his beauty sleep and Rosa is happy to provide it.

Optimus' helm is a perch for chaos emissaries and susceptible to hugs. Rosa is nice enough to cover his optics or audials when someone's about to do something stupid. He can finally be childish for once without breaking his 'Prime air'.

Tired dad of three kids now has a caretaker to help manage them. Mirage definitely started calling Rosa 'mom' and it quickly spreads. He also tries to ship her with Optimus like the gremlin he is. Bumblebee helps much to bossbot's future horror as they will enact the Parent Trap scheme. (Side story.)

And that's it! I thought about just doing only Transformers Prime for all three but decided not to since every iteration deserves love. As for ships, those will stay in side stories mainly because some readers rather read fics without romance being in the way.

Until next time folks, I'll see you later! Transform and Roll Out!

[trivialbob]

Yesterday my ice maker acted up. It’s not a door type, I don’t like those. Mine is in the bottom pull-out freezer. To look at it I had to empty it and disassemble the front of the drawer. Doing that uncovered a lot of dirt. I decided to thaw the freezer and ice maker. After unplugging the refrigerator I put the frozen items in the garage freezer and the refrigerated items in boxes in the garage (it’s about 35°F in there).

Then I scrubbed the whole thing, top to bottom, shelves and drawers. I even got a vacuum cleaner for the back of the outside.

The stupid ice maker is still misbehaving, dripping a tiny bit of water into the ice bucket and freezing some cubes together. But damn! After cleaning everything, and throwing out a few things, the inside looks like it’s now lit by NFL stadium lights.

Last night I watched The Banshees of Inisherin. A weird combination of comedy and drama. I liked the movie, but not as much as I thought I would. Some things were really sad.

This afternoon I went to a gun range. I wanted to shoot a bit, but I also wanted to clean all my guns. Two were still dirty from the last time I practiced. The place I went to today has a fantastic cleaning room. Solvents, brushes, and rags are provided. It’s included with a range pass. The best part of this is not stinking up my own house. Sure, I like the smell of Hoppe’s #9. I’m not sure Sheila does. She made butter chicken and rice today. The house smells much better that way.

Times have changed. As I switched out a target, a 30-something woman and a 50-something man walked in. She was kind of bubbly sounding and wearing yoga pants. She spoke with the two safety officers like she knows them well. The man remained silent. The woman was there to give the man a shooting lesson.

This evening I went to the grocery store for a few things. I wanted some snacks and drinks for when Sheila is done working tonight. There’s also stuff for me to make a big breakfast tomorrow. Prices are crazy. A dozen eggs is currently $5.49! I spent almost $70 on provisions. The prices make me cringe, but they didn’t stop me from buying everything I wanted. Now I’m sitting here debating whether it’s worth it to spend $5.99 to rent Triangle of Sadness from Amazon. It sounds interesting, and someone I follow here said it’s good. But is it worth six bucks, he says while opening a six-dollar bottle of foo-foo beer.

[samrieimg]

This very late Monday drabble is from a later chapter of "Play Like You Mean it"

...

TW: Graphic descriptions of violence/some descriptions of nudity/abundance of pred/prey

...

He stooped next to George, his movements filled with the grace, yet laziness of a victorious old dog after it got the downed fowl. George acted his part of dead fowl. Dream trailed a hand down his face, his fingers tracing his jaw.

 “I think that’s enough for today, don’t you? You don’t do this is as much as I do. You’re getting all worn down." George bristled, but he only blinked slow, focusing on his breath rising and falling in his chest. "But you know, I love how hard you try. You want to own me so bad,” Dream trilled. “But you’re still too soft. You got so close, but you won’t kill me. You won’t cross the line.”

Dream cradled George's head against his shoulder as he scooped him up. Dream’s hoodie is soaked in blood, enough it smears on George's cheek. He can feel Dream limping, a jolt in every step as he carries George like a prized catch back inside. 

“Let’s get cleaned up, George.”

Cleaned up? George wanted nothing more. 

By his own hand. In his own bathroom.

George missed his bathroom. He missed the perpetual mildew on tiles too high for him to bother with scrubbing as hard. He missed the water stain on the wall near his shower. He missed his own soap, he hadn't thought the half-empty travel-size wash he'd used over a year ago and mildly disliked would feel so foreign, nor worse when nothing he saw or smelt in Dream's bathroom was like his own.

The little slice of agency a smell could give someone completely absent. 

Dream set George against the tub in the bathroom. He sat him up, making sure he was able to support himself before he dropped his hands.

George watched numbly as Dream tugged his bloody hoodie off and his shirt leaving his chest bare. The weak knife slash George had managed across his bicep was only skin deep at best but Dream traced it with his pinky. A small, awful little smile before he tended to it. George averted his eyes and Dream tutted.

"George, look."

George stared through his hair and eyelashes at him. 

 “I want you to see what you’ve done," Dream said, he rinsed his wound under water, letting the sink turn pink with watered blood..

“Why? So I can feel guilty?”

“Because I want you to be proud, George,” Dream corrected.  George shuddered. If he had pride, it’d dried up after that. 

Dream examined the knife wound, stretching the skin around it.  “I think it’ll scar. Both of these will.” He gestured to the burn.  It's a nasty thing for a stove top burn, the skin on his wrist is bubbling, and got uglier under the cool water, blisters bubbling up. Dream hardly winced, a testament to his pain tolerance. “You’re not much of a dog person, are you George? You're  more of a cat person.” 

George didn't answer him. His eyes lingered on Dream's injuries, willing them to be worse. He imagined the knife wound had been to the chest or the burn to the face. If he could break Dream…

Dream flashed that eerie private smile and began to strip off the rest of his clothes. He didn't bother with modesty and George averted his eyes to avoid staring at his flaccid cock. He'd already seen it before, but he wasn't in the mood. His eyes landed on Dream’s calves and with a small horror he saw skin gouged out around his ankles, like he'd been chained at some point. The more his eyes swept up the more scars he could find. A bite mark of a dog or something on his upper calf, flesh healed long ago, but badly. Dream wiped himself down with a rag, his hand lingering a minute too long on his cock to be accidental. 

“I can’t be your cat, George," Dream trilled, and he reached for George's face and tilted his jaw up. "But you—you could be mine. I like cats.” 

George stared into the green eyes. They reminded him of the woods, murky, familiar yet eerie. An uncanny horror lurking within. He shivered. Most people looked defenseless when naked, not Dream. George could see every hand that'd attempted to kill him, break him, and failed.

“I’m not your cat," George said.

“Not yet," Dream released his jaw and tossed the dirty rag on the sink. "Then again, what cat thinks it belongs to people, let alone belongs to a dog. Patches doesn’t think like that,” Dream hummed. He wrapped his arm slowly, firm gauze aroun. "No stitches. You'll appreciate I let this scar. You'll like looking at it," Dream said.

George swallowed. Rotten. He was rotten but he did hope it scarred.

“You are a cat. You certainly love knocking things over.”

George laughed, but fruitlessly he tried to muffle the sound, closing his mouth with a snap. Dream smiled, fond. 

“You know, you’re not half bad.” Dream said. “You’re such an oddity. For a cat person, coding does make sense. I checked if your little life story was true. I doubted. I used your fingerprint when you were passed out. You really are just what you said you are." Dream laughed a little.   "I’ve been wanting to learn to code." But—well, Sapnap and I keep busy.”

“If we were having this conversation before you tried to kill me…I'm sure I'd be more enthralled,” George muttered. He leaned back against the bathtub where he’d been set, onto his aching arms secured tightly behind him. “What now?”

“Well, we’re going to bed. And Sapnap will be here in the morning." Dream hummed in thought. “And then if this is all you have, you’ll die.”

“What more can I fight with. I tried.” George muttered, leaning his head back against the sill of the tub. “I admit it. I can’t fight like you. I can’t escape you. I tried. Can you just kill me in my sleep or now—get it over with? I’m tired.”

“…I could,” Dream says. “I wouldn’t even if I wanted to, I'm a loyal dog. But you’re forgetting, George.” Dream squat down, lowering himself to George. “Are you willing to own me?”

“I tried that too,” George said, but he narrowed his eyes,  his fatigue ebbing away. “But if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you’ll convince Sapnap not to kill me.”

 Dream tutted. He stood back up. 

“No,” Dream said. He rubbed salve on his burn. “Not a chance. Sapnap’s thick in the head. No. If you want to survive, George, you’re going to have to convince me.” 

He finished his lazy wound care and squat over George, straddling his legs. “I don’t want to kill you yet, but the thing is, Sapnap’s my owner. If you want me to disobey him, you’re going to have give me a strong reason to obey you.”

George swallowed and composed himself, tilting his chin up. He looked to the side, considering it. “What doesn’t Sapnap give you? Are you trapped here?”

“Mmm.” Dream sounded thoughtful. “Now there’s an interesting word. ‘Trapped.’ ‘Broken-in’, more like, George.” Dream said. “But what doesn’t Sapnap give me? For one, he’s a little insecure. He wouldn’t want to emasculate himself. Everyone Is willing to call someone their bitch, but…” He gripped George’s jaw and licked his lips, his face inches apart. “You can see how it feels, can’t you? Would you willingly humiliate yourself?”

“Not my kink,” George said. Dream laughed, a musical sound full of delight.

“Hm, maybe it’s mine,” Dream said. “But see, the thing I’d like to see in an owner, is someone who knows we’re both just messed up, rotten little animals. And maybe George, you’re right. I don’t want this structure, these rules. Not anymore. But…Your pretty face isn’t going to convince me, because the one thing Sapnap has miles on you is blood lust and the ability to hunt things. If you can’t escape a hunter then—you’re no cat, George. You’re just a little bunny rabbit.”

Despite his pulse hammering heavily in his ears, George coughed and straightened. 

“I’ll escape him. I won’t need you,” George decides. “But if I did. You’d want me. I wouldn’t have to try. You want me to beg you for help, pretend I’m a bitch? A runt? Not a chance.”

Dream was salivating, his pupils blown. He gripped George's jaw tight. He licked George, trailing his tongue along George’s forehead, over his eye,  down his nose and to his lips. He licked at his mouth and grinned as George flinched, twisting in his grip. “You’re definitely a cat, George. All prickly. You fluff up. You think it’ll protect you. That I’ll see that big fluffy coat and tail and I’ll back down. But you should know, George, it does make me want you—I want to see you beneath me.”

George huffed, but he’s feeling his cock rise, a mixture of fear and the tension reaching his stomach. Dream’s naked body has been pressed against him far too long and he remembered this morning, Dream hot and tight around him. “Because George, I don’t want another Sapnap—I want you to become something more. I want you to be better. You made me realize I’m not happy, and I’m going to make you realize you’re not happy.”

“I was very much happy with my lifestyle before this,” George said but Dream’s mouth pressed against his. A chaste kiss. “Liked it a lot more than this.”

Dream let out a derisive, disbelieving snort. Dream kissed his mouth again, his tongue and teeth catching George's bottom lip. “Don’t worry, George, cats can get broke-in to a new house. It just takes a different hand,” Dream says. “Sapnap never liked cats, but you could fit right in.”

“I would never stay,” George said, huffing out breaths against Dream’s mouth. Dream rubbed his cheek against George's, nudging his jaw with his nose. 

“Well, I didn’t ever say I was the nicest to animals,” Dream murmured. “I never hurt Patches, but she’s a sweetheart. You, George?” Dream hummed. “If I like you too much, I’ll have to do what I do to the mice at the orphanage when I was a kid. I’d break one of their little legs, so they could be my pets. Mine.” 

George felt his blood chill and Dream pulled his head back to take in his expression. "Obedience is useful, George."

"I'd rather you break my leg," George said. 

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

I had another dream about my love last night- that quickly devolved into going back to high school in a Walmart:

Okay so it started off with Vanilla and I hanging out in a bubble bath. Nothing naughty, but I'm going to describe stuff. I was sitting in his lap and he was washing my hair and scrubbing my head. I felt his arms wrap around me and his chest on my back 💙💜 Vanilla started kissing my cheeks and we were giggling and just being all snuggly and cuddly in the bubble bath 🥺💙💜

Then for some horrible reason, I was in high school as an adult with other adults in an adult high school. You might be thinking, you mean college right? No.... this was specifically high school. We were in a computer lab in a basement that had really cold water spraying from pipes overhead. I was in the "boys group" and I had broken away from the"girls group" (transgender metaphor?!)

We were trying to fix the pipes and we were laughing and singing, then suddenly it was time for PE. Everyone got quiet and slowly started forming 4 lines on either side of the coach. I was first in one of the lines, then a random dude held me by the shoulders and said, "No, little guy... you go right here." And pushed me back about 5 places. I was confused and a little scared.

The coach handed out these grey t shirts individually to the other guys. It was mine and my friends turn next. Then two of my friends broke off from the group and I asked, "Where are we going?"

One of my friends just turned around and looked at me deadpan then turned back. I followed them both through the Walmart that the high school is in for some reason. We went to the principal's office that was in one of the dense clothing sections. I guess one of the counselors was there to give one of my friends some kind of item, I have no idea.

Then my friends both teleported away and I had to run back to the PE class. I saw the ceiling lights were flickering and I was like,"cool!" And I headed back to class. The coach was mad that I didn't have my grey shirt, and I was like "oh shit I left it at the principal's office."

I had to go back there and I asked the counselor where my grey shirt was. She said, "do you know where the lost and found is?" And I said, "no" and she said "well that's where it is" and I said, "okay where's the lost and found" and she got angry and said,"I already told you this morning. You should've been paying attention"

No you didn't wtf- anyway I was looking around (and I literally mean AROUND the principal's office because it was this small one room building thing) until I found a teenage girl and a teacher with a mustache. I asked them where the lost and found was. I couldn't understand what the girl was saying, it sounded like she said it was in another state. I asked,"It's in another state?!" And she just looked at me with a blank face. Then the teacher was about to cry and he said, "I know where it is... it's under the desk... In the office..."

I said thanks and went to look for the shirt. But apparently it was too late because time had flashed forward to my last class of the day. I was so tired and ready to go home. The bell rang and we all headed outside. I remember thinking, "it sucks being a junior and a senior because we have to go home at 6pm instead of 3pm like everyone else"

For reference, I've had to move around a lot so the latest I've ever had to leave a school I went to was 4:15pm. The earliest a school I've been to would let out was 1:15pm. The times we had to be there were all around 7:30am, 8:30am, and 9:30am or something in between.

The rest would let out around the times: 1:15pm, 2:00pm, 2:15pm, 2:30pm, 3:00pm, 3:15pm, and 4:15pm. I've been to a lot of schools x_x (the number of times here are not equivalent to the amount of schools I went to, a few schools had the same times to be let out)

Also just letting you know, the 4:15pm time was for a middle school. But we got Mondays off! It was pretty cool.

I also went to a school that had Fridays off, but we would get let out at 1:15pm. All of the classrooms were in trailers and had 6-8 kids in each. I really miss it... that was when I had my first (counting him) boyfriend too. I was about 9/10. We would have gushers and chocolate teddy grahams for snack time. Gushers to this day still give me so much nostalgia... I'll never forget him and I hope he's doing well 💪 he was such a sweet guy

[shmoo92]

Toasty

Kokomi’s comm rings. She sinks deeper into her bubble bath and prods the ‘accept’ button with her toe.

Kaeya greets, “Did i wake you?”

Kokomi hums.

“If you said something I couldn’t hear it.”

Kokomi rises from the water high enough that her mouth clears the bubbles. “Bath.”

“Bubbles?”

“Of course.”

“What kind?”

Kokomi puffs at the suds near her mouth until she clears a small indent, then, “Toasted marshmallow. Tartaglia picked it up from Mondstadt.”

She sinks back into the water and streeeetches her leg and prods the comm with her toe.

The screen switches to video.

Kaeya’s delight quickly folds into comical disappoint as he realizes that all he can see of Kokomi with all the bubbles is one knee disappearing into the suds and the top half of her face. “How am I supposed to enjoy?”

Kokomi once again puffs away soap. “Bubble bath, kaeya.”

“Right.” His eye flicks away and back again. Nervous? “Did you happen upon an unattended, unidentified bag when I left?”

Kokomi hums.

“So it’s mine—“ He glances away and back again.”if you wouldn’t mind popping it a pod —“ His eye sparkles. “—when next you get presents, of course.”

“Mhm.”

“So that’s all.” Then he tosses his hair and lo, her Casanova’s returned. “I’ll have to call you from the bath next time. No bubbles, though.”

Kokomi blows away suds. “Good plan.”

“I learned from the best. Do try to enjoy yourself without me, won’t you?”

Kokomi sits up and leans her head back against the wall—

Kaeya hisses.

She brushes some suds from her collarbone.

His eye flicks down. Drags back up. Bites his lip.

Kokomi sinks back down and with her toe, pokes ‘disconnect’.

.

Scrubbed clean, toasty, and in a fleecy, one piece purple pyjama (with the hood pulled up over her hair), Kokomi glides to the entry way where she left the so called unattended and unidentified bag.

Frankly, if the Dodoco keychain and Pavo branding didn’t already suggest to whom the bag belongs, then the fact Kaeya (or one of his people) had scrawled his full name and contact info on the inside of the back certainly does.

She’s ever so curious as to why he seemed so nervous.

Since he described it as “unattended and unidentified” though, she should treat it as such, and it’s her duty as steward of this outpost to ensure its safety and continued well bringing by treating all such objects as dangerous and dealing with them according.

She opens the bag fully and rifles through.

As expected, pyjamas and toiletries. A spare comm and charger. Snacks—Kokomi helps herself—and an airport paperback and—

A doll, about the size of her hand. It’s well loved and well cared for. And relatively old, too—no one had sold Princess edition Sangonomiya Kokomi dolls for at least two years.

Kokomi smiles to herself, then at the miniature, plush version of herself.

“We’re going to have lots of fun together.”