#I know all pigs aren’t pink just the white ones

[gypbitch]

Why do men make fun of women’s genitalia and we’re not supposed to be angry? Most of them haven’t probably seen one in real life and you want me not be angry at you for making fun of a women’s genitalia for not being pinker then a pig?

Context- I saw a video of a man making fun Sexyy Red genitalia after her sex tape was leaked. He was saying how it wasn’t pink despite Sexyy Red being a black woman, he was a black man.

[deadghosy]

Hear me out

What about a moth! reader

Like the moth from sky! Children of the light that likes to fly around the hotel and honk at people sense they can't speak

And them giving candles as a way to ask"do you wanna be friends??"

(this is my first time ever requesting something so sorry if it doesn't make sense, feel free to ignore this く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡)

……ANON MARRY ME RN CAUSE I USE TO PLAY THE HELL OUT OF THAT GAME!! RN MARRY ME

HAZBIN HOTEL X MOTH COTL! READER

prompt: a cute moth character enters the ring of hell due to a malfunction of the realms

STORY MODE: you were celebrating days of love as your ikemen softly puts a flower crown on your head as you honk happily. You hugged the Ikemen as he hugs you back, lifting you for a hug spin as he chuckles lowly.

He lifted you on his back as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He pointed towards the valley realm as they wanted to celebrate your one year anniversary together. You started to spam honk excitedly as the Ikemen nods and runs into the realm. But something went wrong.

END OF STORY MODE: You just stand there as you smell blood and fire in the air. You were confused as you didn’t see your beloved Ikemen anywhere which made you honk out loud…you didn’t see their name either. You inhaled all the air you could and let out a big HONK! That got you the attention of a fellow moth man who smirked behind you. You jolted with a quick honk as Valentino poked your mask. “My my my~ what a cute little thing you are.” Valentino says picking you up like a child.

You didn’t want to die so immediately you pulled out your candle. That made Valentino drawn to the candle as he squeaks happily at the candle and take it. Before Valentino could talk to you, an arm grabbed you and sped away.

Who was the culprit who took you, it was Angel dust in his pink scooter. (A/n: don’t question the scooter) Angel heard that big ass honk and a light as he was curious and went to go look for it only to see you shaking in Valentino’s hold. He didn’t want to save you, but your small frame was shaking and he couldn’t stand it so he had to save you.

And now you are part of the hotel’s crew as they greet you with open arms.

Angel loves you dearly, you immediately warmed up to him giving him a bright white candle as his eyes shined at the light of the candle shaping like a heart. So when Angel took it and it dissolved in his hands. You were so happy you kept spam hugging him.

You literally follow all the members like a first time moth, holding out a candle as you want more friends!

Fat nuggets just oinks and follows you. You pet the cute demon pig who licks your hand back

CHARLIE LOVESSS YOUU😭💗 she picked you up and you honk hugging her back.

Vaggie admires you as well. You seem like a reliable person to bring hopes up.

Lucifer adores you..I mean you are just so affectionate. He immediately accepted the candle and he lifted you up. Kissing your head and gushing over you with tears yelling “I WANNA ADOPT THEM!”

I headcannon Charlie and Lucifer debating which color scheme suits you better as they try to take off your brown moth cape as you honk at them.

I always headcannon skykid moths to be at least like 4’9 and every time they gain winged light they get taller. 🦆✨but since you aren’t in the Sky cotl universe, you are so small so literally they treat you like a kid.

You know like your light decreases when a dark creature hits it or like basically darkness. (Especially during that damn fire trial😐) I can imagine moth! Reader having a night light that Lucifer made you with a duck light shining on the ceiling so you feel safe.

Husk doesn’t even understand what the fuck you are doing by honking at him and following him around constantly with a bright ass white candle.

Husk eventually accepted the candle which made you hug him alot..and oddly husk liked it. Now you gained a drunk uncle.

BIG HEADCANNON THAT VALENTINO WILL TRY TO ADOPT YOU, BUT ANGEL IS DEAD ASS SHAKING HIS HEAD NO AS THE OTHER CREW MEMBERS PROTECT YOU FROM THE GRASP OF THIS MOTH DEMON

As you kept getting adopted by random people, your ikemen was going around every season area asking other skykids have they seen you as he has a missing poster of you….poor Ikemen looks down seeing the flower bracelet you made him.

Back to you as you are making the whole crew paper bracelets thanks to Charlie’s trust exercises and activities.

I can see sir Pentious and you getting along to the point sir Pentious is like a caretaker when you don’t have anyone to be with. Even his egg boiz love to hang with you. Even if they don’t understand you.

You one time big honked and every light flickered since a ring of light was around you. So now the cast is little bit cautious at how “powerful” you are

Alastor would think you eat human/sinner meat as he would bring it to you, noting you don’t eat anything. 😭 DO YOU GUYS KNOW THAT GAGGING CAT?! THATS YOU WHEN YOU SMELT THE MEAT-

Alastor was so offended but he should’ve guessed that you weren’t a cannibal.

Niffty was teaching you how to clean and you accidentally drank bleach making niffty literally chase you around worried as you run.

You actually one time lost your light as you were crouched on the floor. Immediately Lucifer grabbed you up scared that you were dying as your body got out of the state and into your regular appearance.

Tbh Lucifer thought you was a scary demon crawling for your life, until you honked is when he realized it was his moth friend.

You fly around honking as you help razzle and dazzle with putting up banners. Razzle and dazzle pick you up if you don’t have enough energy to fly. You guys are flying buddies is what I headcannon.

I imagine husk is sleeping and you glide down from the stairs as you honk softly in his ear to wake him up. He grumbles at first so you decided to do a big honk. You inhaled as a ring of light surrounds the place as the honk rings out in the hotel.

“GAH!” Husk yells falling off the couch grabbing you as he thought you were trouble to only find out there wasn’t no problems. He grumbles angrily at you.

You once flew down like Batman and Angel recorded it founding it adorable.

Charlie had noticed you like to collect candles so she bought a stack of candles which made your eye light up and immediately run to your room with them.

Your mask definitely falls off your face, so imagine the whole hotel’s cast reaction to your face just being completely black with eyelashes (bruh skykid’s eyelashes are so damn pretty and long 😭)

When you went with Charlie to meet with the angels, Adam raised a brow at you because he never seen a “demon” like you. But he didn’t feel any angelic or demonic energy off you.

“What’s up lil dude…where’s your mama?” Adam says teasing you as he pats your head while Charlie watching nervously. You just honk at him and pull out a big white candle. Lute and Adam glanced at each other as Adam took it. The candle dissolved into a circle as Adam felt warm. You honk happily and hugged him.

“So can I keep this little shit?” Adam says to Charlie. “WHAT NO?!-”

I headcannon you once did the backflip emote and they all applaud you like “oh wow!”

Alastor and Lucifer are the smart ones to try to get you to call them dad…but you just honk and hug them like a little child happy to see them.

Of course Valentino is blowing Angel’s phone asking him if he seen a moth like demon….

Lucifer made you a duck cape. Like the cape was heaven sky blue with duck patterns in it. He found it so cuteee! 🦆💗

You honked madly at fat nuggets as the pig had eaten up your brown cape making angel dust make you a pink cape. It was bedazzled and it didn’t look like the sakura or valley cape you see other skykids wore once

[thorneswife]

ok hear me out. scarlet x emilie or whatever her name was

it’s all the little pieces of you

an Émiliet ficlet

1.2k words

Honestly. Gilles’s restaurant is a pig’s sty. Scarlet huffs in disgust as she flings the wet rag in her hand down at the table. It’s a waste of time cleaning the tables between customers when the tables have grime an inch thick embedded in the wood.

Someone hollers and the glasses rattle. She glances up from the disgusting table top to see Roland and his gang of thugs are present this fine afternoon. She rolls her eyes. It’s way too early in the day to be as drunk as they are right now. Émilie scurries over to Scarlet beaming. She weaves her way through tables effortlessly. The woman is taller than Scarlet and has the most enchanting golden curls. She tugs on Scarlet’s arm in greeting.

“Mon amour Scarling! Gilles sent me to tell you he hasn’t forgotten about you and the univs.”

Scarlet settles her hand over both of Émilie’s. “He’s a rat and you know it.” She growls.

“He is my employer.” Émilie chastises. Her tone is soft though and no harm is meant.

“He asks me to help out while he runs around like a chicken with its head cut off and sends you to appease me. My verdict stands.”

Émilie tuts disapprovingly but there is a sparkle of mirth in her big eyes.

Scarlet finds herself staring suddenly transfixed by Émilie’s pink lips. They are very pink. Very pouty. The pretty waitress flips a golden curl over her shoulder. She pauses, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes, Scarling? Do I have something stuck in my teeth?”

Scarlet shakes her head.

Émilie runs a thumb over her lips thoughtfully.

Scarlet catches herself watching and feels her face heat a degree or two.

She feels longing deep in the pit of her stomach. It's not an unpleasant sensation but it is an unwelcome one. One she refuses to pursue. Émilie is her friend. Only her friend.

That sensation and the thoughts that accompany it aren’t allowed.

Émilie chatters away about this handsome customer or that one. She goes into detail about the compliments she’s received today and the tips. Scarlet isn’t listening but she arches an eyebrow anyway, pretending to pay attention. Émilie doesn’t care either way. She hugs Scarlet close and prattles on.

Scarlet is on her way back to the kitchen when it happens.

“Take a load off Émilie! Rest your feet.”

Scarlet sees it out of the corner of her eye.

Roland grabs hold of Émilie’s arm. “I mean it. Take a seat right here with me. Gilles won’t mind. It’s just for a moment.”

One of his vile friends pats the seat next to him and leers.

Roland is a big blonde man but Scarlet has no doubt that she could take him in a fight.

He reaches up to stroke Émilie’s long golden curls. He flicks her on the nose. Émile jolts away in surprise. He laughs raucously and his friends join in. 

Without warning, he wraps his arm around her waist and tugs her into his side. Émilie makes a sound of protest but Roland doesn’t care. Scarlet sees white. Heat rushes to her face and blood pounds in her skull. In a heartbeat, she grips the arm holding Émilie, her nails biting into his skin.

“She has work to do.” Scarlet growls.

Roland winces and withdraws his arm. He glares up at Scarlet, lips peeling back to bare his teeth. “Get your hands off of me Scarlet Benoit! If that crazy old hag never thought to teach you manners, I will.”

She freezes, fingers extended mid drawing them away.

“Say that again?”

Roland sneers. “She’s crazy Scar. Always has been.”

She slaps him. Hard. “Say that about my Grand-mére again!”

Roland tips back in his chair crashing into the dirty floor. He scrambles to his feet glaring and spitting profanities. “I’ll teach you that lesson!”

His friends are on their feet as well.

He’s a big man—the biggest of his associates—and towers above her. She tenses for a fight.

Her fists curl for a strike. “Try it!”

He yanks her up by the collar of her hoodie. She yelps in protest. Roland swings his fist for her face but she catches the blow.

Émile shoves her way between them. “Mon dieu! Roland!” 

She shoves her delicate hands into his chest pushing him backwards and he edges away looking unsure all of a sudden. He straightens his spine, shakes his blonde hair out. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth Scarlet.”

“I can beat your ass! Don’t want your little friends to see you lose?”

He sneers, “Keep going. See what I do.”

“You’re pathetic—“

Émilie is quick to de-escalate again. She hooks an arm through Scalet’s elbow and drags her backward towards the kitchen.

“Enjoy your meal, Roland!” She’s forcing a cheery smile.

Émilie shoves her through the swinging kitchen door. Scarlet stumbles on the slick linoleum. She catches herself on Émilie’s shoulder.

The blonde ushers her over to a short table by the wall and out of the way of the hustle and bustle. She presses down on Scarlet’s shoulder to make her sit.

Scarlet refuses to be subdued. “You heard what he said! You heard him!”

“Yes I did, but Scarling, Roland is an idiot, a drunk, and a brute. I know your grandmother. I know you. And—“ She takes both of Scarlet’s hands in her own, soothing her thumbs along the redhead’s wrists. “You don’t need to prove anything. People who love her know it too.”

Scarlet swallows with difficulty. Her throat is suddenly sand dry. Her skin burns where Émilie’s hands cover it.

She likes the way those hands feel.

Émilie strokes a palm along Scarlet’s cheek. “I know that idiot upset you.”

Scarlet swallows again, she rises off of the low table, still gripping one of Émilie’s hands. “He tried to touch you.”

“And I wouldn’t have let him.”

Scarlet’s anger doesn’t cool. In fact, it heightens. Her face blazes and color blooms high in her cheeks. She wants to push back through the swinging doors and show Roland a thing or two about manners.

“He deserves to be locked up! To be beaten! To be strung out and lashed!” Émilie tucks a strand of hair behind Scarlet’s ear. She smiles sweetly. “Merci Scarlet. Merci.”

Scarlet grits her teeth against that heat in the pit of her stomach. It stems from anger at Roland but it’s more than that. She’s furious at him—but not even that explains the fire in her belly.

Scarlet wants something.

She can’t admit to herself what.

She refuses to.

“You need to be more careful Émilie. Beautiful women like you make men lose their heads.”

“Oh is that all?” Émilie quirks an eyebrow. “Yes. Yes, I’ll be careful.”

Scarlet scowls unconvinced. She grabs her hand firmly, catching Émilie’s gaze with her own. “I mean it.”

Émilie pauses.

She takes in Scarlet’s fierce expression. Something shifts in her face, something softens. “I will be careful Scarling. Just for you.”

Scarlet feels her neck redden. All the possessive energy and need she feels calms.

She settles for the feel of Émilie’s palms against her flushed skin. She settles for the dip of those sweet dimples in Émilie’s pretty face. She settles for her mere presence.

It’s enough because it has to be.

[fountainpenguin]

You said on your Off the Rails post that Gary's still living with his mom in the Red and Gold AU and that if we remember her, we know that's bad news. I don't think I remember hearing much about Gary's mom. What's going on with her?

She's not shown up much for you guys, but she's in Pink and Gray & just generally haunts the narrative, playing into why Gary clings so tightly to Betty and why he feels like he has nowhere else to go after the Pixies and Betty dump him.

So... Elaine is not kind to Gary. She's a witch who doesn't totally understand why she is what she is... only that she knows her son was also born one. She and Gary are both genie-descended witches, so they share the same weaknesses: burning in water, vitamin D-deficiency, extreme claustrophobia, and growing extremely lethargic after sunset.

POV, you're trying to take care of your firstborn and bathing him is a huge struggle because he's in pain and screaming and you know perfectly well you're hurting him but what else are you supposed to do?

I like to think Elaine knows the scrappiest little basics about witch biology, but mostly through human friends who've trialed and errored with her. She gets a lot of details wrong... But somewhere in there, she IS trying to look out for him and keep him safe.

In Chapter 3 of Pink and Gray, we know Gary's parents are getting a divorce and that he was on his way to live with his mom when the Pixies nabbed him. 8-year-old Gary lists off things about her that stress him out, including how she regularly tells him he's never allowed to date when he's older because he might not come back before dark.

Elaine's vision: He's younger and less experienced than I am, and I don't even go outside after dark. If he passes out behind the wheel of a car, he's going to die. Gary: I'm pretty sure it's not good that she's keeping me inside all the time and doesn't like when I make friends.

He also specifically refers to H.P. as "rescuing" him from his family situation and is pretty blinded by his attachment to him and Sanderson, compared to Betty growing increasingly uneasy as she ages and starts putting the pieces together that the Pixies aren't... sweet or unselfishly motivated.

Shout-out to the Gary POV later in that chapter being "omg, he's only going to keep one of us and I HAVE to make sure that's me" and also "If Sanderson thinks I'm a happy person, he must've been spying on me for a really long time." Okay, buddy.

Man, I forgot how much I love Child Gary. And also H.P. being the actual worst all throughout this story. He's SO bad and uncensored in this one compared to some of his other appearances and that's honestly partly why I stopped this story, and why I probably need to up rating when I pick it up again... No one in this 'fic is okay.

Here's a Pink and Gray scene I'm excited to get to someday. Gary and Betty are 16 years old:

“This doesn’t look like the grocery store,” Gary said quietly, peering out the window. Oh, sweet summer child… Of course that’s exactly what he’d say at the end of a three hour drive, never questioning their location until it slowly dawned like lifting sun. Betty pushed in the brake, rolling the truck to a stop on the pebbled drive. The three ducks rustled their wings and swaggered away. She spat out a curl of hair and switched the car off. “No.” The ducks kept quacking. For another few seconds, he remained silent. Then, quavering, “Betty…? This house is super-duper big and fancy. It has pillars along the front, and a giant metal star hanging next to the door. There aren’t cows or pigs, but there are horses and ducks. This looks exactly like a place my mom would buy.” “Funny how that works, right? It’s getting dark. Let’s go ring the bell.” She popped the door, only to be greeted by a blast of warm wind that almost blew it shut again. Dust swirled across the driveway, scuffing the hems of her white capris. Gary had been right about the horses… she could smell them even from here. His fingertips had left burn marks down his seatbelt strap, knuckles so white they were practically translucent. Betty noticed this when she came around to open his door. Gary stared straight ahead, feet still planted on the floor. Even with the spilled milkshake down there. “Oh. Ohhh my goodness. No. No, no. Please don’t make me go in there. Can we cancel this? I think we should cancel this. Did I forget to mention I haven’t seen my mom since I was eight? If nothing went awry in the plan, she still thinks I’m dead.” “Gary, come on. Don’t assume the worst of everything or your brain will freeze like that. We came all this way; we should at least say ‘Hi.’” When his dismayed eyes shifted over to her, Betty’s pixie-cold face almost cracked. Gary gazed up at her like a toddler, blinking drops of sweat from his eyelashes. “Betty, I don’t want to do this.”

Elaine was very overprotective of Gary, but didn't make him feel loved; in fact, he felt ignored and mistreated. Here's a scene I like from "Looking Back," where post-130 Prompts-arc Gary is still pretty broken about stuff:

Gary stares through him, his eyes focused on something nonexistent on the other side of the classroom. "I… I should call my mom. It's been a long time. Can I borrow your phone, Crocker? She has my number blocked." [...] "That's not going to help," he says to Gary (as bluntly and as gently as he simultaneously can). "Elaine's a nutjob, and not in the sensible 'can be reasoned with' way like yours truly." Elaine. The woman doesn't deserve to be called "Gary's mom," even in his head. Just the thought of her heats his face. He doubles down. "You told me years ago not to let you do that again. Calling her up's about to be a one-way ticket to Shattered-Heartsville."

By the time he's nearly 18, Gary wants his mom back in his life. He's tried to initiate contact, but it goes badly every time and even Crocker knows she's bad news. Extremely specific found family Happy Peppy Gary-Denzel Crocker dynamic, my beloved... "If time heals all wounds and Timmy froze it for 50 years, why didn't it heal me?" Gary breakdown, my beloved... Crocker projecting his affection for his estranged half-sister on Gary, my beloved... Crocker "Hey, what the Fairies did to me and what the Pixies did to Gary was pretty f'd up, actually" my beloved...

Idk! The core of Gary's character (to me) is that he's extremely paranoid and has major trust issues, and he's been this way ever since he was a kid. He's one of those abused kids that grew up hyper-aware of his surroundings and knew how to avoid making noise or leaving evidence of what he's doing. His mom generally tried to keep him alive, but he had an unstable home life that, in his view, lacked love.

And of course, his loneliness and clinginess set him up perfectly to come crashing done after the Pixies lose interest in him & Betty moves away from Dimmsdale and asks him not to move in with her and her boyfriend, hence the Purple Train story arc...

Man is associated with fire; is it any wonder he crashed and burned?

The children yearn to rotate Happy Peppy Gary

Anyway, all this to say that in the Red and Gold AU, Gary does still live with Elaine through his teen years and young adulthood. But on the upside, Betty and Kenny never lost their parents! And Kenny never gets sentenced to Burger World, so... y'know. That AU's working great for them!

The inherent cruelty of "Gary gets to be happy only in the AU where Betty is in agony & Betty only gets to be happy in the one where Gary is suffering at home"... yikes.

To this day, I've still never written Gary and Betty actually being, y'know... happy. oh no.

I guess I did write them finding Norm's lamp one time and they had the brilliant idea of rubbing it at the same time "so they'd have 6 total wishes," which... did not go to plan, but I never came up with good things for them to wish for.

"Why don't you just write them both happy?" / "Why would I do that?"

Bonus Pink and Gray WIPs that are Gary-related, but not connected to his mom... They just make me laugh...

This conversation about sterility, friendship, and love:

“You’ve actually known for nine years?” “Yes. Does being sterile bother you?” Gary scratched his fingernails against the Head Pixie’s desk. “I don’t know. I know it shouldn’t, I know it’s good and noble to adopt orphans and stuff, and I always assumed Betty and I were going to adopt at least one kid anyway if we got together, but it kind of does bother me.” “Ever since I was infected with Wolbachia, I’ve been sterile myself. I understand what it’s like.” “That’s different, sir. You have your pixies.” Gary held his elbow. “Betty said she didn’t think I could be passionate if we tried to be romantic.” H.P. turned and looked behind him. Then he looked at Gary again. “Wait. Are you still talking to me? About emotions?” “Kind of.” Gary tensed his shoulders. “Mostly I’m trying to be logical about this. Do you have advice about what I should tell her?” “Well.” H.P. placed his hands along the rim of his desk. “Would you be passionate?” “I think so. I’m passionate about everything. How can I prove it to her? What would you do if you were me?” “Probably things in the bedroom that aren’t appropriate to discuss aloud,” H.P. said, going back to his writing. Sighing, Gary said, “We’re not married. Stop thinking we’re married. What do you and Anti-Cosmo do to stay friends?” H.P. froze. After three sharp seconds, he looked up. “What?” Gary tilted his head. “I’ve known you for almost a decade, sir, and I’ve noticed that you seem to have a very close friendship with the High Count. Don’t give me advice from your marriage with your ex-wife. Give me advice from your relationship with him. That’s the one that’s lasted, after all.”

Gary meets Timmy, who's riding on his mom's motorcycle (and yes, Gary calls her Mom... Everyone calls her Mom).

Two enormous turquoise eyes peered up at him from under the brim of a rosy pink hat. Gary couldn’t hold back his gasp. “Why, hello!” he greeted, leaning forward. “I’m Gary! What’s your name, little turkey?” The small boy ducked his head, burying it in his mother’s puffy sleeve. Still, he said, “I’m Timmy Turner. Do you like pink?” Gary blinked. Then it dawned on him. Betty’s umbrella. “Oh! Well, this isn’t really… my…” Timmy’s eyes threatened to water. “I do! In fact, my very favorite shade of pink happens to be the exact color you’re wearing right now.” The little boy rubbed his cheek with the back of his wrist. “Heh heh. Does… does anyone ever tease you about how you like pink?” Gary smiled. “Aw, those meanies don’t know what they’re talking about. They don’t mean to hurt anybody’s feelings, and their teasing doesn’t bother me. Pink is absolutely my most favorite color, and no one can stop me from liking it. Boys can like pink, and that’s okay!”

Fun fact! Gary's child design for Pink and Gray is directly based on Imaginary Gary-

- with the implication being that 4-or-5-year-old Timmy based Imaginary Gary on Happy Peppy Gary after meeting him in this scene! ... Ironically...

Man, thinking about the OG script of the Musical again... Would that have been silly if we had two villains named Gary in the same episode or what?

Can't stop thinking about Gary and Betty being chill with I.G. after he came out as an imaginary friend... Can't stop thinking about them turning on the Pixies because I.G. told them to... what was that...

[starkstruck27]

Second fill for @mungrovebingos !! This one was fun to write, so I hope everyone enjoys!! Ao3 link is here and the story is under the cut.

Prompt is "Broken A/C" and it's 3,048 words.

August in Hawkins brings with it the worst humidity that Billy has ever felt in his entire life. He’d finally gotten out on his own, but he didn’t have enough money saved to be able to head back to California yet, so he just got a tiny apartment above one of the shops in town and decided to work his ass off to get out there as soon as possible. And now, when he finally had a day off to relax, it was the hottest, muggiest day of the year. And his air conditioner had decided that it was the perfect day to just quit working.

Billy had always loved the heat, but right now, he felt like he was dying. He had stripped down to his underwear and was still sweating like a pig. He couldn’t even try to relax on the couch and watch TV because he was sticking to the leather cushions and it was making him itch. And when he finally ran out of cold sodas in his fridge (he would’ve preferred beer, but Max was making him cut back on that for his own good), he finally broke down and opened the phone book to call a repairman. 

It felt like hours before the guy finally showed up, just in time to save Billy from going crazy with the heat and shaving off all his hair to try and keep cool. He saw his van through the windows of the living room and heaved a sigh of relief, at least he wasn’t going to have to suffer much longer. 

Finally, the guy made it up the steps to Billy’s apartment and knocked on the door, and Billy opened it quickly, not quite understanding it when the guy on the other side smiled nervously and blushed. 

“Hi, I’m Eddie from Munson’s HVAC Services. You called about your air conditioner?” He said, trying very obviously to keep his eyes from wandering. It was only then that Billy remembered he was in nothing but his boxers, and it was his turn to blush, but he decided not to call attention to it if this guy wasn’t going to.

“Yeah, I’m Billy. The damn thing quit out on me this morning and I’m about two minutes away from locking myself inside the refrigerator, so I figured I should probably call someone to fix it,” he said, stepping aside to let the other man into his apartment. 

“Ooh, yeah, I can see why. It’s like an oven in here!” Eddie chuckled as he stepped inside, waiting for Billy to close the door. “But the good news is that when appliances just quit out of nowhere, they typically aren’t too hard to fix. I should be able to get it done pretty quickly, just show me where it’s at.”

“Yeah, sure. The control box is in the hallway and the actual unit is outside by the steps. It’s connected to the shop below, too, but I don’t think they’re having any problems. And obviously the vents are in the ceiling, so I don’t know where the problem is,” Billy said, showing Eddie around his apartment. He went over to the control box and looked it over, but he didn’t seem to see anything wrong with it, so he moved on to look at the vents. Billy got him a stepladder out of the laundry room and left him to his work, slipping away to his bedroom to actually put on some clothes.

He was feeling even hotter now as he pulled on his loosest fitting tank top and his breeziest shorts, and it wasn’t just from the clothes. He was absolutely mortified that he had forgotten to get dressed before the guy showed up, and it only made matters worse that he was so handsome. He had huge brown eyes and full, pink lips and pale skin framed by dark, curly hair. Most of it was tied up in a ponytail to keep it out of his face and off his neck, but a few strands came loose and hung around his ears. He also had bangs which covered his eyebrows just enough and a goofy, pearly-white smile that was cute enough to die for. And Billy had shown up to meet him covered in sweat, smelling like stale cigarette smoke, his hair frizzed to high Heaven and in nothing but his underwear. He wanted to smack himself.

But he didn’t, he just finished getting dressed and hoped the guy wouldn’t bring it up as he grabbed a book and went to the kitchen, choosing to sit at the table instead of the couch so he wouldn’t stick as badly. He poured himself a glass of water and, after a moment of consideration, another one for the repairman, who was still tinkering around with something in the vents.

“I, uh, thought you might like some water,” Billy said as he approached, offering the glass as Eddie stepped down off the ladder.

“I would, thanks,” Eddie said, flashing that smile again, “And I think I figured out the problem.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy asked, sipping his own drink as if telling the guy to go on.

“Yeah, it looks like there’s some screws loose in the vents, which made them disconnect from each other and is causing the cool air to escape into the ceiling instead of the apartment. Then it gets caught by the insulation so it never lowers down, and when the hot air rises up, it just turns that air hot, too. It’s kinda far in there, so I’m gonna have to climb in there to fix it, but once I do it shouldn’t take me long to get it fixed up,” Eddie said, glancing up at the vents again as he downed his water and handed the glass back to Billy. 

“That’s great, thank you so much,” Billy said, taking both the cups back to the kitchen and returning to his book after putting them in the sink. 

Ten minutes later, Billy felt a whoosh of cold air coming down from the vents, and he sighed in relief as he felt the apartment slowly start to cool down. He put away his book and redid his hair, pulling it back and relishing the way the cool air licked at the nape of his neck. He sighed again in relief and wiped some sweat from his brow as Eddie strolled in from the hallway, all smiles as he tucked his screwdriver back into his tool belt.

“All finished. It’s feeling better in here already,” he said, walking over to Billy.

“You are a lifesaver, man. I was about to go nuts, so thanks again for coming out. How much do I owe you?” Billy asked, shaking the man’s hand and smiling for the first time since his apartment became Satan’s back porch. It was met with another grin from Eddie, and Billy began to feel hot again, even though his place was pretty much back to normal by now.

“Actually, getting to see you open the door all sweaty and in your underwear was payment enough for me,” he said, placing his hands on his hips. “But if you really want to pay me, you could let me take you out to dinner sometime.”

Billy could almost not believe his ears. He didn’t know this kind of thing actually happened in real life, he thought it was only something that happened in the movies. But apparently it was real, and he had to admit, he wasn’t opposed to the idea. Eddie was attractive, and he seemed nice, and it was only dinner he was asking for, nothing else. So he got control of himself and smiled, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to summon up some of that old confidence he’d had in high school.

“I think I can swing that. Just tell me when and where,” he said, his cool (no pun intended) facade covering up the mosh pit of butterflies in his stomach.

“Here,” Eddie said, taking Billy’s hand and pulling out a pen, “Give me a call sometime and we can hash out the details. I’ve got a few more appointments today, but I get off at 6:00, so anytime after that would be ideal.”

He let go of Billy’s hand and tucked his pen back in his uniform shirt pocket, smiling still, but seeming even more nervous as Billy glanced at his hand. He’d written his number on it, and Billy smiled again as he looked back up at Eddie.

“I’ll call you around 6:30, then,” he said, his heart racing as Eddie began to fidget in front of him.

“That sounds good,” he said, then paused before adding, “And, uh, I know we kinda just met, but the fact that you want to go out with me makes me think that I’m not getting my wires crossed on this, and I learned my lesson before about not taking chances and waiting too long before, so, uh, please don’t, like, think I’m a creep for asking, but… Can I kiss you?”

Billy almost forgot how to talk, he was so stunned, but not in a bad way. In fact, it was the complete opposite of that, he was flattered and now that he’d been given the suggestion, he wanted nothing more than for it to happen. He finally found his voice and beamed brighter than the sun as he said, “Yes, I’d like that.”

And so Eddie kissed him, just a press of his warm, full lips on Billy’s own, short and sweet, but it felt amazing. Billy almost forgot himself and went to deepen the kiss, but held himself back and let Eddie pull away after a few seconds. Both of their faces were as pink as if they’d been sunburned, but they just smiled and laughed lightly at themselves before finally stepping back into their own space.

“I’ll definitely call you tonight,” Billy said, his fingers and toes all wiggling and tapping around as he tried to contain his excitement.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Eddie said, grabbing his things before going over to the door and waving. “Talk to you later, Billy.”

As soon as the door was shut, Billy finally let out all excitement he’d been trying to keep in by running to the couch and flopping down onto it, immediately picking up his phone and calling his best friend, Steve. He took what felt like forever to answer, but he finally did, and Billy barely gave him time to say hello before he was rattling off the whole story. 

“And then after he kissed me, I promised I’d call him tonight and he said he was looking forward to it and then he waved and said he’d talk to me later as he left. I honestly thought that this kind of thing only happens in the movies, but I guess not, because it just happened to me and I’m so fucking happy about it!” He finally finished, and he could hear Steve laughing on the other end of the line.

“Honestly, I thought when you first started this story that it was going to end up like a bad porno, and the fact that it didn’t means either you didn’t try hard enough or he’s some kinda prude,” Steve teased, making Billy roll his eyes affectionately. He loved Steve, but he could be such a bitch sometimes.

"Or maybe he just didn't want to seem like a dickhead, unlike some people I know," Billy teased right back, and he could hear the smile in Steve's voice.

"Are you referring to me?" He asked in mock offense, but only laughed harder as Billy said yes. "But no, seriously dude, I'm happy for you. And if he ends up actually being a dickhead, let me know and I'll kick his ass."

"Yeah, sure you will, Stevie," Billy deadpanned, but they both knew he was just joking. "But no, thank you for that. Although I seriously doubt I'll need you to. He's really handsome and he seemed really nice, so I think I'll be fine."

"People said the same things about Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer when they first met them," Steve said, and if Billy didn't know any better, he might've said that he sounded worried. "Just be careful is all I'm saying. And make sure to let me know when the date actually happens so that if you go missing, I'll be able to tell the police where you went."

"You really are the mom friend," Billy said, "But I promise I will."

"Good. And if it turns out that he's not a psychopath, I want all the dirty details as soon as you get home, okay?" Steve said, and Billy rolled his eyes again.

"Sure, Stevie. I'll talk to you later," he said, shaking his head with a fond smile as he hung up. 

Billy still called Eddie that night. He couldn’t help but be a little nervous, with all the terrible thoughts that Steve had put in his head, but he was also too excited to care. And really, just a phone call couldn’t hurt, right?

Eddie was perfectly charming and sweet on the phone, and they arranged the dinner date for that Friday night. That gave Billy two days to get ready, but also two days to wait. He was antsy the entirety of Friday morning and afternoon, and by the time it was time to start getting ready, he was about ready to bounce out of his skin. But he didn’t, he just got showered and dressed and did his hair, and called Steve one more time before leaving his apartment and heading to the restaurant to meet Eddie.

“Wow,” Eddie said as Billy approached him, “I don’t know which I prefer: You in your underwear or you all dressed up like this.”

Billy was glad that the sun had already begun to set, so that Eddie wouldn’t notice his blush. He had dressed up special, but Eddie didn’t know that, so it was nice that he still noticed. And he was looking good himself, perched against the side of the building and finishing up a cigarette while he waited. He had on a plain black button down, ruby cufflinks, a pair of black jeans and some ratty old converse sneakers. His hair was down today, and it reached down to just past his shoulder blades, clearly freshly washed and combed out into its natural waves. It suited him, and Billy almost couldn’t pry his eyes away.

“If that was supposed to be a compliment, then thank you,” Billy said, leaning next to him and stealing the smoke from Eddie’s fingers, “You ain’t lookin’ so bad yourself.”

Billy allowed himself to relish in the sweet little blush that came to paint itself over Eddie’s cheeks as they finished the smoke. They passed it back and forth until it was close to burning their fingers and then they tossed it into a trashcan, ready to head inside. 

Eddie was a perfect gentleman. He opened the door for Billy and pulled out his chair for him and made sure to fill the silence with conversation. He ordered them wine and told Billy to get whatever he liked, it was his treat. Billy argued with that one, but Eddie insisted, and he knew it was going to be a losing battle, so he didn’t even bother fighting it. Though he did thank Eddie up and down for everything. 

When they finished their dinner (which was amazing, by the way), Eddie held the door for Billy again as they left, and walked with him to his car to make sure he got in it okay. Billy had never dated anyone who treated him like this, and it was honestly amazing. Eddie had kept him laughing and talking all through dinner, paid for him, was going over the top with the shows of chivalry, and now was walking him to his car to make sure he was safe. Billy had never known that dating could be like this, and now that he’d had a taste of it, he knew he’d never be able to go back to the way it used to be.

“I had a great time tonight,” Eddie said as Billy unlocked his car door.

“So did I,” he replied, flashing a 1,000 kilowatt smile, “But I get to treat you next time. Y’know, if you were interested in there being a next time.”

“Of course I am. I’m always up for a next time, especially if it’ll be with you,” Eddie grinned right back, making Billy’s heart soar. It felt like it lifted him right up into the sky, and if Billy didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn that it actually had, because when Eddie kissed him again before leaving, it felt like kissing an angel.

“Drive safe, okay?” Eddie said as he leaned back, a goofy smile on his face as he did.

“Always,” Billy said back, his own grin spreading over his features. “I’ll talk to you soon, Eddie.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Eddie said, waving over his shoulder, “Talk to you later, Billy.”

Billy was on cloud nine all the way back to his apartment, with its fully functioning air conditioner, and grinning like a fool as he flopped down on the couch and picked up the phone as soon as he got inside. He dialed quickly and it was picked up just after the first ring, the person on the other end saying, “Well?”

“Yeah, hello to you, too, Stevie,” Billy teased, but he kept on smiling. 

“Oh come on, you know I’m just eager. Obviously this guy isn’t a serial killer if you got home safe, right? So, you know what I want to hear. Give me the deets!” Steve exclaimed, entirely too excited about his best friend’s love life. But Billy told him everything anyway.

“He was such a gentleman, and he kissed me goodnight and everything! I really like him, Steve.” Billy said, twirling the phone cord in his fingers.

“Then I guess I only have one question left for you,” Steve said, his tone oddly serious. “When do I get to meet him?”

[lonely-lost-soul]

Beauty and the Beast

<<Previous part/Next Part>>

(C!Technoblade x Fem!Reader): Beauty and the Beast AU

Cover art is done by: @abovenyx

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate! I do and this is my gift to all of you because I'm grateful for all of you and your support.

~~~

Chapter 1:

The morning came way earlier than you would’ve liked, and the birds called for you to get out of bed. You got dressed and slid on your work boots, a chill ran through you and you glanced outside. It had snowed that night, the ground was covered in a fresh coat of white and the house was cold and quiet. The cold wasn’t anything new, but the quiet was, your home was never quiet...Tommy was never quiet.

“Tommy?” You called grabbing your shaw and opening your door, “Theseus you here?” You searched high and low around the house and found nothing except for an empty workbench with a half-finished invention on it. Your throat tightened, he snuck out to get more parts, fuck he promised he wouldn’t do it again. At least not without your explicit permission the little shit, you slid on your snow boots and pushed open the cabin door. You didn’t know what time it started and stopped snowing last night, his footprints had long since been covered by the fresh snowfall. “Fuck me,” you swallowed gathering up your dress and heading into the deep woods. You screamed his name until your throat went raw and eventually you came upon a large castle, with large gargoyles and an atmosphere of unease. Tommy could’ve stayed here for the night, after all, he had no concept of danger. You stepped through the gate ignoring the endless howls of wolves behind you, and you knocked softly on the grand castle doors. There wasn’t an immediate response but the opened with a soft creak. “Excuse me, I’m coming in!” You called stepping through the doors, you heard some rustling but saw no one. You swore you could hear whispers in the halls as you wrapped your shawl tighter around your body. “Is anyone home? I’m looking for my brother Tommy?” You walked down the halls shoes clicking on the floor, “Please have you seen him?” A loud crash was heard behind you and you jumped startled out of your skin lights turned on in the hallway behind you like they were leading you.

Even though every fiber in your being was telling you no, you pushed the thought away and followed the lights. You came across a small dungeon hole and your heart sank, “Tommy?”

“Fuck-Shit-(Y/n)!” He ran up to the bars grabbing at them, you ran up taking his hands in your own. “You have to leave right now! This place is fucked as all hell!”

“What? Not without you, what mess did you get yourself into? Nevermind! I’ll get you out of there, just hold on.” You tried foolishly pulling on the bars and they didn’t budge Tommy’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Seriously (Y/n). You need to leave, it’s dangerous and I’m the man of the house so it’s my job to protect you-”

“Bullshit!” You snapped glaring at your little brother, “I’m the eldest and it’s my job to protect you! So shut your mouth, got it? I’ll give up everything for you and I won’t hear a no. Get a grip-”

A low growl came from the darkness and you turned around, red eyes stared at you from the dark. Hands were pressed on your shoulders from behind, Tommy pulling you close to the bars. “Back off monster freak!” Tommy yelled from over your shoulder and from the darkness appeared a giant monster. Seven feet tall with large tusks curling around his snout, pink fur covered his body and he had a large boar-like tail, and pig-like ears sat on top of his head. A large cape sat on his shoulders and draped down to the floor, it was cherry red with white fur on the top, gold jewelry decorated his tusks and body and your face paled. You sucked in a breath and held your head up high,

“You’re intruding, like Sister like brother it seems.” He snarled his teeth baring at your form, “Unwanted visitors aren’t welcome here. Leave. Now.” His eyes flashed in warning, you huffed turning your chin up high, you shakily stood on your feet.

“Not without Tommy.” You hissed back, if he wasn’t going to be kind to you, you weren’t going to be back.

“You don’t get to make those choices here. Get out.” He hissed grabbing harshly at her arm,

“Let her go!” Tommy hissed lunging at the bars, “don’t touch her!”

“Technoblade!” Phil scolded and the monster flinched and immediately loosened his grip on the woman’s arm. “What are you doing? That is no way to treat a young woman.”

“Phil-”

“Let her go.” That was a clock, a fucking clock was speaking to you, you were going to pass out. It seemed the clock noticed and began to fret, “oh! Techno! Release her!” Technoblade listened to the clock and dropped the arm of Tommy’s sister. She leaned back against a wall, “I’m sorry about his behavior. He’s antisocial.” Technoblade snarled in response, hands clenched into fists at his side, “You could help us and save us all.”

“Phil shut up.” He hissed, his eyes narrowed harshly, silence fell over the group before Tommy broke it.

“What the fuck is going on? Am I gonna be let out of here or not?”

Phil looked at Techno, eyes practically looking into his very soul, “Only on one condition.”

“Anything, I’d do anything for Tommy so long as you let him go.”

“Switch places with him. You’ll never see him again, but he’ll be safe.”

“What the fuck! No way!” Tommy shrieked and you took a shaky breath,

“Okay.”

“What?!”

Technoblade shoved you to the side and opened the bars of the cage and picked Tommy up by the back of his shirt. Dragging him out of the cage, “Hey! Let me go you bastard!” Tommy snarled, wiggling in his grip, “(Y/n)!”

“Tom! I’ll be okay!” You called as he left down the hall Technoblade shoved your brother in what seemed to be a carriage that could move completely on its own and your brother was ripped from your life just like that. Your lip trembled and the monster turned to face you, Technoblade grunted rolling his eyes, and made moves to walk away from the woman. However he was stopped by a rather fuming candlestick, Wilbur was giving him such a look that he turned back towards the upset lady.

“Come. It’s not proper for a lady to stay in a dungeon.”

“But it was fine for a kid?” You shot back another growl rumbled in the back of Technoblade’s throat, once more Wilbur cleared his windpipe.

“I have a room available. It’s up to you if you decide to use it.” He huffed, “come.” There were no footsteps for a moment before he heard the soft footfalls of you following behind him. Pride swelled in his chest and he smiled slightly, he opened the door to a gorgeous room. The bed was bigger than you’ve ever seen, the pink wardrobe was a nice touch.

“Oh wow…” You murmured and Technoblade felt his cheeks heat as he stared down at your bewildered expression. He cleared his throat, straightening significantly, “I want to let you know that you’re allowed to go anywhere in the castle since you’re going to be staying here indefinitely. All except the West Wing, it’s always forbidden. You will meet me for dinner tonight, wear something decent.”

“If you think I’ll be eating dinner with you you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Pardon?”

“I said I won’t be eating with you.” You scoffed,

“Yes, you will. Do you know who I am?”

“No, and I don’t fucking care. I will not be eating with the man who locked me up.”

“If you don’t eat with me then you’re going to starve.” He snarled above you successfully pinning you against the wall, “You hear that!” He roared and you steeled yourself so you wouldn’t flinch. “She doesn’t eat tonight!”

Your nose scrunched up but before you could retort he was already out the door. He was stomping his way down towards the wing you were oh so forbidden to go down. What a stuck-up prick, finally alone you let the tears fall down your rosy pink cheeks. Your nails dug into your arms as you fell to your knees, Tommy was just a kid but he was level-headed he’d be fine so long as he didn’t get into more trouble.

He was a good kid and too many people didn’t see it.

Meanwhile from the West Wing Technoblade watched you through his magic mirror with an ache in his chest. He watched you cry on the floor of the bedroom he had given you, he didn’t know why he felt so bad seeing you so upset. He felt like the safety of his staff and friends were on his hands, if she didn’t fall in love with him they’d all be stuck like this for the rest of eternity. It was a lot of pressure on his shoulders, plus how could anyone fall in love with him when he looked as beastly as he did. He huffed running his hand over his face tiredly, he looked over at the beautiful glass case containing the elegant rose and watched mournfully as another petal landed on the ground.

~~~

“Why’re you crying, miss?” You tensed head shooting up to lock eyes with your wardrobe,

“I-I’m sorry,” You whipped your eyes quickly and she tutted, walking over and using her handles to pat your head tenderly. “(Y/n)...”

“That’s a lovely name for a lovely girl. I’m Niki, a professional stylist.” She hummed, “Chin up darling I promise you it’ll be okay. What do you think? Would a new dress cheer you up?” You giggled and gave a little nod,

“What could hurt Miss Niki?”

“That’s my girl!” She squealed, throwing open her drawers and cabinets, throwing dresses upon dresses on top of you. You laughed in delight and were mid-trying on a lovely red dress when there was a quiet knock on the door. Stepping inside was a candlestick, you saw him briefly earlier “Wilbur! You’re lucky she was dressed.” Niki scolded and if candlesticks could blush he would’ve, “I thought Sally would’ve taught you better.”

“Oh hush Niki…” He huffed sticking out his tongue and he turned to you, “You look, lovely Miss. My name is Wilbur Soot, I’ll be escorting you to dinner tonight.”

“Oh no thank you. I’m not going.”

Wilbur blinked, once, twice, and then a third time. “I’m sorry...no?”

“Yeah no thank you. If...Technoblade is going to be there then I must decline.” The candlestick laughed, his fire flickering oh so happily. You gave him a confused look,

“He may say you have to starve but we servants will not let a lovely lady such as yourself wither away in here. Even if you do have Miss Niki as a company. She doesn’t exactly cook.”

“Oh shut up! I used to be able to bake like a star...I can’t exactly do that now…”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“Well you see Miss we’re all…” She looked at Wilbur and gave a nod “cursed.”

“But who would do such a thing?” You asked softly, “You mean to say you were all human once?”

“A rather handsome one at that.”

“Wilbur, you're married.”

“Me being handsome is a fact of life Niki.” You burst into laughter, eyes drying up, Wilbur hummed pleasantly, “Now if you don’t mind I’d like to steal our guest away for dinner.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be waiting here for you.” She waved with her handle before you followed Wilbur out the door. A rather stern looking clock joined in leading you to the grand dining hall,

“I promise to do whatever I can to help you all.” You whispered and if Wilbur or Phil heard you they didn’t comment.

“Technobalde isn’t going to be happy about this Wil. You know better than anyone that he’ll have your head for this.” He ranted, Wilbur scoffed at his father giving him a look of his own.

“What and let this beautiful lady go hungry? Not in your life, old man.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cause trouble. I can go back to my room, I don’t want you in trouble, Mr. Wilbur.”

“Just Wilbur is fine love and it’s alright. I insist, Technoblade is a big softy at heart,” You gave him a disbelieving look but nodded slightly at his response. The conversation on your end trailed off from there, Wilbur kept telling you about the grandiose things around the castle and their historic significance. It was interesting but you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach was rumbling with hunger and nerves.

“Wilby there you are!” A feather duster cooed rushing over to him and snuggling against his...face? “And is this her? My, she’s beautiful! I’m Sally, Wilbur’s wife!”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” You curtsied and she giggled,

“So polite Sally is fine! Come, come everyone’s so excited to meet you.” Sally the feather duster sat you down on a chair at the head of the table. She let out a loud whistle and the dinging hall came to life, Wilbur cleared his throat and smiled.

“Welcome to your dinner darling.”

It was like magic, the way everything seemed to come alive, food was placed in front of you at an alarming rate. Two tiny teacups popped into your view, one had a chip on its rim, they introduced themselves as Tubbo and Ranboo. They seemed to be in awe of you talking your ear off about the outside world and asking questions.

“How old are you boys?” You asked tilting your head with morbid curiosity,

“Seventeen!” Tubbo declared, your eyes softened and both boys seemed to notice.

“Is everything alright?” Ranboo asked hopping over to nuzzle against your hand, you smiled softly picking him up in the palm of your hands.

“My brothers around your age. Both of you, I think you’d all get along splendidly. It seems you both have a knack for adventure.”

“Oh absolutely!” Tubbo hopped about, “You’ll help us be able to meet your brother someday as people!” He chirped excitedly, “Cause you and Prince Technoblade are gonna fall in love.” You flinched and Phil seemed to catch wind of the conversation.

“Tubbo, Ranboo stop bothering the poor woman and let her eat.”

“They’re no bother.”

“Yeah, she likes us!” Ranboo beamed happily from his spot on your hand,

“Maybe so but still. She needs both hands to eat, plus your families are looking for the both of you.”

“Uh.” Tubbo whined, “Come on Boo.”

Ranboo pouted, hopping off from your hands, “it was nice meeting you Miss!” He chirped, hopping off after Tubbo. Phil sighed rubbing his eyes and you smiled pityingly,

“You have a lot on your shoulders huh?”

“Nothing for you to worry about though, everyone here has their hopes high that you’ll break the curse.”

“But what if I’m not able to do that...I don’t love him. Phil I barely even like him…”

“Then that’s alright love, he’s not as cruel as he seems...I promise.” Phil spoke softly patting you on the hand, “For now just eat. You’ll want your strength.”

Eat you did, everything was scrumptious and you made sure to thank everyone who brought you more food and then finally dessert. “This is the most I’ve eaten in my life!” You laughed as Sally giggled beside you,

“Puffy will be glad to hear you liked it.” She hummed stifling a small yawn, “Excuse me I must head off to bed, Phil and Wilbur will help you back to your room.”

“Thank you for being so kind and welcoming.”

“No need to thank me.” She tutted, “It’s basic human decency. I’ll wake you tomorrow to get some rest.” You smiled as Wilbur and Phil both walked over to you, they seemed to be in a heated debate about something or other.

“Everything alright?”

“Fine, fine nothing you need to worry about.” Phil huffed motioning for you to stand up to follow them back, you did so but they acted like you very much weren’t present. You admired the artwork on your way back but you stopped in front of the hallway leading down to the West Wing. Phil nor Wilbur seemed to notice you had stopped as they kept walking forward in the direction of your room, you knew you weren’t allowed in the West Wing, Technoblade had made that clear. However, much like your brother you never did well listening to authority figures, maybe it was because you both didn’t have parents. Either or you stepped foot into the rather dusty corridor leaving the safety of the other wings behind.

~~~ Tommy tore through the woods like a bat out of hell. Snow sticking to his face and boots, frantically looking for someone, anyone to help him. His sister was trapped by a monster, he sucked up his pride and burst into the nearest pub. A place he knew Dream and his crew would be lurking,

“Help! I need help!” He called as silence fell over the bar, Dream raised an eyebrow.

“Tommy? Aren’t you a little too young to drink?” He snickered, eyeing George who nodded in agreement. Sapnap eyed all three of them from his spot at the bar, his husbands standing on either side of him.

“He has her. Has (Y/n)! Has her locked in a dungeon!” Tommy babbled grabbing onto Dream’s arm,

“Who?” He sounded serious, worried even, that some man had claimed what was rightfully his.

“A beast! A horrible monster has her locked away!”

A beat of silence before laughter tore through the pub and Tommy wilted significantly.

“Is it a big beast?” Dream asked wiggling his fingers,

“With spooky eyes.” George joined in mockingly,

“And fangs!” Sapnap mused, sticking out his tongue.

“This is serious!” Tommy snapped, stomping his foot on the ground, “She’s in danger!”

“And you’ve always been a boy who cried wolf!” Alex chimed from his place beside his husband, “Why would any of us believe you?”

“Because I’m telling the truth!”

“I’ll help you.” Dream mused and Tommy looked hopeful,

“You will?”

“Of course. KICK HIM OUT!”

“No!” Tommy cried as Sapnap and George tossed the boy out into the snow.

~~~ Tag List: @taysgarden, @solivagantlife, @otterly-fey, @reverse-iak, @abovenyx, @luluwinchester, @victory-is-here, @hopefulann, @fandomramen, @fischlvonluftschloss, @honeyco0kie, @judas-draws, @friday-dsv, @blxux, @boiled-onionrings, @pastelmoonwitche, @jupiters-night, @mack4676, @xx-smiley-xx, @dreamslittlebitch, @sandyy-woo, @hee-hee-haw, @theultimatewifu32, @royaltytheo, @fiorenc, @creatorofstars

[thetfchangingroom]

I know you’ve changed guys into dicks, but ever change someone into an ass?

(Check out the full, NSFW version of this story HERE!)

You know what… I don’t believe I have!

This is crazy; I’ve been around for a while now and I’ve turned guys into all sorts of shit, but I can’t name a single time I turned one of them into a butt! Which is tragic really because it can be a lot of fun (depending on who’s butt; some guys don’t know how to clean up down there).

But there’s a first for everything, right? Now, who’s ass would you like to be?

Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed that since you asked, you were the one looking to be transformed. Was this just meant to be a hypothetical question? A curious query? Well, let me walk you through some potential candidates so you can “ass”-ess your options. Perhaps I can change your mind…

First, let’s start with the classics:

Why not be any ordinary, run-of-the-mill ass when you could be America’s Ass? Yes, I am offering you the opportunity to be Captain America’s tush.

As you can imagine, Cap’s ass sees quite a bit of action—and I’m not just talking about fighting bad guys (though I must say he is one limber son of a bitch and that suit breathes like Egyptian cotton. You’re bound to have a great time either way).

No, I’m talking about the action Cap sees off the field. You’re kidding yourself if you don’t think all these ridiculously hot superheroes aren’t fucking each other senseless when they’re not off saving the world. All that pent up stress, all that athletic ability going to waste… the Avengers headquarters is basically one non-stop orgy, and while Cap might dominate the battlefield, his tastes in the bedroom are a little more…

Yeah, you get the idea. As Cap’s ass, you’ll be getting real familiar with Thor’s beard, Natasha’s strap on, and the Hulk’s you-know-what (trust me: it fits). Captain Rodgers won’t be able to suit up without someone’s load leaking out of your pretty pink hole, and get ready to have bright red handprints on your cheeks 24/7. That ass sees a lot of love… tough love.

Butt wait! There’s more! If you think a real life superhero might be a bit too intense for a first time tourasst (yes, I just came up with that) why not one of the guys who plays one?

God went a little overboard when he designed Chris Hemsworth. Big biceps, big pecs, big Disney paychecks and, most importantly, a big fucking ass.

Being Chris Hemsworth’s butt means getting to sit in (or rather, be sat on) for all of his crazy Marvel workout sessions. You know what I’m talking about: those incessant instagram posts of Chris in various states of undress, sweating like a stuck pig, pumping iron as if he’s training for Mr. Olympia while some equally attractive personal trainer screams in his ear.

You’re hard just thinking about it, aren’t you? I sure as hell am.

Now: imagine being Chris’ butt. You can practically taste all that celebrity sweat dripping down your crack, your puckering hole tensing in tandem with each guttural grunt.

Just wait ‘till he starts doing squats. Chris loves those squats. He likes to go pretty low, spreading you out and stretching your muscles until you’re burning white hot.

And when he’s done? Chris likes to spend some quality “me” time in the sauna. Of course, “me” in this case includes you, so if you’ve ever wanted to get up close and personal with Chris while he beats his fat donkey cock, this is about as close as you can get (unless you wanna be his dick, but that’s another conversation).

Who knows? He may even stick a finger or two in you. It wouldn’t be the first time…

So, what do you think so far? Does being a butt sound like a good time? Well just you wait because I think our final candidate has some attractive “ass”-ets.

Meet Sam.

That’s right: I saved the best for last.

Sam’s ass is—for lack of a better word—legendary. This man has spent years and years sculpting those cheeks into two perfect globes of muscle and fat. To say they are his pride and joy would be selling it short. Guys come (and cum) from miles around to get a taste of Sam’s perfect butt… literally. Nary a day goes by when Sam’s hole isn’t filled with a dick, a dildo, or someone’s thirsty tongue.

As such, Sam runs a tight ship down there. His butt is clean and well manicured, which means if you choose to become Sam’s ass, you’ll be treated like a princess (and likely called one too).

And the best part? You’ll get a lot of sun. Sam doesn’t keep his ass hidden under suits or sweaty workout shorts like Cap & Chris. Quite the contrary; Sam seldom finds himself in a situation where his ass isn’t hanging out or on full display. You’ll be getting very familiar with his vast collection of jockstraps, singlets, and thongs.

Needless to say, he can be quite the exhibitionist.

Have you cum to a decision? Are you down for some “butt stuff” or are you gonna pass on this one?

But I already know the answer.

I can see it, flashing in your mind’s eye. I’ve gotten very good at reading people over the years, at sniffing out their deepest desires and giving voice to their unspoken wishes. I know exactly which ass you want to be, you don’t even need to tell me.

After all, it’s not like you could anyway. Your transformation has already begun!

That’s right; there’s no use for talking when your mouth is slowly becoming an asshole, when your lips start to curl into a round, flowery sphincter. You may start feel each of your cheeks inflate like those of a chipmunk, growing and growing until they’ve consumed your entire face. You feel them gently touch each other, forming a crack over your former mouth.

You want to reach up and touch the miraculous changes occurring on your face, but you no longer have any hands to touch with. Your arms are gone. Everything is gone, in fact: your legs, feet, torso, even your own ass is missing.

Because nothing belongs to you any more. You are only a part of him, one of many muscles on a big and busty body.

Ugh, you make such a cute butt, don’t you? Well, I hope you have a great time as Sam’s ass. Who am I kidding: I know you will! There’s already a big muscle stud with a 10-inch cock on his way to dump a load in you as we speak!

Just be sure to let me know once you’ve had your fill of spunk and spit (among other things).

How will you let me know, you ask? Oh don’t worry… I can just tell.

Have fun getting torn a new one!

[hqbbg]

still.

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

prompt: “I told you to stay still.”

genre: smut

word count: 5.3K (I got carried away, oops)

warnings: 18+, masturbation, some degradation, oral (f!receiving), fingering, some spanking, vaginal & unprotected s3x (make sure you wrap your presents, kids), like 2 seconds of cockwarming, uhm I think that’s it oop

author’s note: I'm back with another Haikyuu!! Headquarters collab piece! check out the master list of everyone else’s works here ✨ I hope y’all enjoy this!

The air in your room feels thick as you pant helplessly, feeling the familiar ache in your fingers as they begin to cramp up while plunging in and out of your sopping cunt. You feel so close to your own undoing, unable to control your thoughts as they drift to the man whose room is on the other side of your bedroom wall. You can’t help but think that it’s his fingers squelching within your warmth, though you’re sure they would reach much further than yours ever could.

You don’t do this often, touching yourself to the thought of your roommate while he’s out at work or running errands, but lately you’ve been frustrated.

When you had put out an ad for a roommate, you were hesitant. You didn’t have much of a choice, as your last roommate decided to move out in favor of moving in with her boyfriend, leaving you to scramble for a solution in order to continue to afford rent. As a full-time student with a part time job, it would’ve been inconvenient to move out in the middle of the semester, and it seemed reasonable to quickly search for a roommate to help with the bills until your lease was up.

Miya Osamu was hot, to say the least, though it wasn’t the main reason why you ended up choosing him to be your new roommate. On top of having manners and being financially stable, he knew how to cook and respected your space in the apartment. Unfortunately, you’ve been unable to say the same recently. The number of times his room door was cracked open as he changed almost made you consider that he was doing it on purpose, as if encouraging you to take a peek.

As you recall the way his back muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head all those times you’d told yourself that you were just walking by, you let another moan slip past your lips. Your fingers begin to move quicker, toes curling, and you can feel your arm beginning to tire out. Your back arches as your other hand quickly moves to massage your neglected clit, rubbing harsh circles until your vision flashes white.

You fail to hear the front door open and close as your moans continue to fill the room. The memory of seeing Osamu stepping out of the bathroom in a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a towel around his neck is still fresh on your mind. You feel yourself clench around your own fingers as you recall your eyes briefly catching sight of the outline of his cock, the image practically ingrained within you. Too many times have you thought about how it would feel inside of you.

Another moan resonates on the walls and you bite your lip, though it does little to stop you from moaning Osamu’s name. Before you know it, you’re overwhelmed by pleasure and your whole body tenses before it relaxes. Your chest heaves as you lay there, trying to recover from your intense orgasm and you want nothing more than to sleep now. You hardly notice that your door is open.

Over the next few days, you can’t help but feel that something is off with Osamu. Though you aren’t particularly close, you’d like to think that you two have developed some sort of friendship with all the shared meals and evenings spent in the living room just chatting about life.

Did he hear you the other night? There was no way; you made sure to give yourself enough time before he was supposed to come home. Then again, you didn’t hear him come in…

Your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that he’d heard you. You let out a groan as you bury your face in your hands, leaning onto your desk. The little motivation you had to study has effectively disappeared and an unsettling mix of nervousness and shame begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you try to push the dreadful thought out of your head and sit upright. An idea suddenly pops into your head and you abruptly stand up. You walk over to your door and poke your head out, scanning the area to locate your roommate. He’s conveniently in the kitchen, snacking on some leftovers he’d brought back from his restaurant the previous night.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly as you step out. He looks over at you and hums in acknowledgement, his mouth full. You decide to go ahead and speak, though your fingers fidget with the hem of your oversized shirt. “You’re not working tomorrow night, right?”

Osamu shakes his head, swallowing his food. “What’s up?”

“Well,” you hesitate, trying to find a way to come off as casually as you can, “I saw this recipe online for some salmon and vegetables, do you wanna be my guinea pig?”

“Sure,” he nods as he shrugs. “What time?”

“Dinner time,” you say, a little too eagerly. “How about seven?”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. “Sounds good to me.”

You watch as he takes another bite of his food before you realize you’re staring, clearing your throat.

“Okay, well, have a good night,” you say and quickly scurry back towards your room. Once you shut the door, you release a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. You swiftly move back to your desk, your forgotten notes pushed even further aside as you begin to look for that recipe you’d seen all those weeks ago.

The following day, you make a quick trip to the store to buy ingredients and find yourself nervously counting down the hours and minutes until it’s a reasonable time to start making dinner. You step out of your room to see Osamu already perched on a stool at the small island in the kitchen. He’s slouched over, scrolling through his phone when you walk up. He glances up and greets you with a small smile as you place your phone down near the center of the island countertop.

“Okay, so before I start, I just need to say that I’m definitely not a professional chef in any way,” you say as you move to wash your hands. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, pulling the vegetables from the fridge. You grab the apron hanging on the pantry door and sling it over your head, tying it behind your back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya wear that,” Osamu muses as he leans his cheek on his palm. His elbows are both propped up on the counter and you resist the urge to playfully roll your eyes.

“I have to make sure my shirt doesn’t get dirty,” you say, “it’s one of my favorites.”

He says nothing in response, opting for a light chuckle as you begin to wash the vegetables. Once you finish, you pull out the cutting board in front of him on the other side of the island, placing a carrot in the middle.

You open a cabinet and pull out a knife, giving it a quick rinse before positioning the blade to cut through the vegetable. Placing your fingers on the edge, you lift the knife just slightly.

“Hey, be sure to cats paw,” Osamu pipes up, pointing to the hand that’s on the carrot, “If yer not careful, you’ll knick yourself.”

“Huh?” You blink your eyes at him, trying to prevent yourself from sounding like an idiot.

“Like this,” he says, lifting his hand up and curling his fingers inward into a loose fist. You try not to focus on the veins lining his hands, tearing your eyes away and mimicking his motions. You see him drop his hand from your peripherals and finally attempt to cut into the carrot.

Before you know it, the knife slips from your grasp, making a shallow but clean cut across your index knuckle. You let out a curse and hiss as you drop the knife.

“Whoa, are ya okay?” Osamu stands as you begin to make your way to the sink, blocking your path.

“It hurts, but I’m fine,” you reply, looking at him curiously before glancing at your finger. You examine it for a moment, seeing the familiar crimson begin to bead.

“Let me take a look,” says Osamu, gently grabbing a hold of your wrist. He lifts your hand up closer to his face, his eyebrows slightly creasing as you do your best to resist the blush creeping up to your cheeks. “You should be careful.”

“Well, it’s not like this was intentional,” you grumble, unable to meet his eyes. He sighs softly and you glance at him, opening your mouth to say something. However, your train of thought is  completely derailed when his lips wrap around the small incision.

You feel his warm tongue gently lick around it and you can’t help but stare at the way his lips look around your finger. He catches your eyes and pulls away.

“I used to do this to my brother whenever he’d get hurt or something when we were little,” he says, letting go of your wrist. Your face is burning as you drop your hand back down to your side. “Wait here, I’ll go grab a bandage.”

You nod wordlessly, mind still reeling as you try to figure out and process what exactly had just happened. You watch his retreating figure head towards the bathroom, disappearing for only a moment before resurfacing with a familiar pink wrapper with Hello Kitty’s face scattered across the outside cover, a gift he had received from his brother. He makes his way back over to you, pulling the tabs apart and plucking out the bandaid.

Without prompting, you lift your hand up towards him and watch as he moves your hand towards him with his pinky, wrapping it around your finger.

“There, all patched up. Is that too tight?” He asks, picking up the trash and crumpling it in his fist. You lift your hand up and examine his handiwork, nodding in approval.

“It’s perfect,” you say, feeling your stomach flutter at the self-satisfied smirk that’s found its way onto his face. “I still have to cut the vegetables, though.”

“Hand it over; I’ll do it.” He motions towards the knife.

You pout, making no indication to hand the utensil over to him. “I kind of wanted to cut the vegetables though.”

He raises a brow at you. “Are ya sure? Ya already butchered yer first chance; I don’t want blood all over my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen, huh?”

Osamu shrugs. “I hardly see ya in here, so it might as well be.”

“So are you gonna help me or not?” You raise a brow and choose to ignore his statement as you cross the kitchen to grab your phone, pulling up the recipe to skim through the instructions before placing it back down. “I’m supposed to Juliette these vegetables.”

Osamu stays quiet for a moment. “Do ya mean julienne?”

“Yeah, same thing,” you wave your hand dismissively, walking back over to the cutting board. You pick up the discarded knife, giving it a quick rinse. Upon returning to your original spot at the island, your hands position themselves once again, curling your fingers like Osamu had previously shown you.

“Wait, yer gonna end up hurting yourself again,” he says as he walks up behind you. “How thin are ya trying to cut this?”

“About this much,” you reply, positioning the knife towards the edge of the carrot.

“Okay, first things first,” he says as he wraps his arms around you. Your eyes widen as you feel his chest press against your back, his hands moving to hold yours. “Ya have to cut it in half and get a flat surface.”

He grabs your hand holding the knife and moves it to the middle of the carrot, wrapping his thick and long fingers around the handle, completely swallowing yours. He ensures that his grip is stable before pressing down, the blade making a sharp cut.

“Okay, so now that ya have this, ya said ya want to make them look like noodles, right?”

You can only nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you choose to speak. Your head feels fuzzy, your senses overwhelmed by the scent of his musky cologne hitting your nose and the way his strong arms continue to guide you. The heat radiating off his chest envelops you in an oddly comforting embrace and something about it feels very domestic. You try hard to keep your knees from buckling under you, shifting your weight between your feet. You immediately tense when you accidentally press your backside against his hips.

Briefly scanning the island countertop, you see that his phone is on the other side where he’d originally left it when you began cooking and try to ignore the sinful thoughts threatening to infiltrate your mind.

“Makes sense?” Osamu says, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“I-I think so,” you stammer, though you bite your lip and mentally scold yourself for your faltering voice.

“Alright,” he says, taking a step back. You exhale slowly, trying not to think of the loss of warmth. “While ya keep doing that, I’ll prepare the salmon. Where’s the recipe?”

“It’s on my phone.” You nod towards it, setting the knife down. He walks over to the side of the counter you’d left your phone at and brings it over to you. “What’s yer passcode?”

“That’s classified information, sir.” You see his eyes darken for a moment as you pluck your phone from his hand, typing in the digits before placing it in his open palm.

“Never thought you’d be callin’ me that so soon,” he says offhandedly, locating the recipe in your browser. You feel your lips part to say something, but no words come out.

You simply resume cutting the carrot and grab more vegetables, shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts. You see Osamu grab the salmon from the fridge, pulling it out and getting some seasonings you’d bought earlier.

“Hey, can ya grab a pan from that cabinet there?” Osamu asks as he points to one of the bottom cabinets in front of your legs.

“Sure,” you nod and take a step back, opening the cabinet door and bending over at the hips. You rummage around for a decent-sized pan, feeling Osamu’s eyes on you before you straighten up. He’s quick to avert his eyes as he holds his hand out to you. You place the handle in his open palm and he takes it, setting it on top of the stove.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you prepare your own things, with you seasoning and cooking the vegetables while Osamu prepares the fish, searing it on the pan. As you both finish your portions, you decide to bring out your nicer plates for the occasion.

Opening one of the top cabinets, you stand on your toes to reach for the plates, wondering how they ended up so high to begin with.

“Need help?”

You jump slightly, startled when you feel his body pressed flush against yours with a hand on the dip of your waist as the other reaches above your head to grab two plates, placing them down onto the counter. You turn your head to look at him and realize just how close he is, his face merely centimeters away. His eyes are on your lips as you tongue pokes out to wet them before they flicker upwards to meet your eyes. You look up at him, anticipating his next move with bated breath, and feel his hand that had been holding the plates move to gently hold your jaw. He leans forward just slightly and your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet.

His lips move slowly against yours, though it’s nothing short of passionate. You feel his hand on your waist pull you closer to him and you lean into the warmth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to welcome the warm muscle inside, letting him explore freely.

The both of you seem to run out of air at the same time, pulling away breathlessly. Before you can say anything, he kisses down your jaw to your neck as you crane your head just slightly so he can have better access and you’re not straining your muscles. He nips gently at the skin before dragging his tongue along, finding a particularly tender spot to pay special attention to. A hiss slips past your lips and you’re reminded of how close he is to you when you begin to feel something hardening against your backside.

“If ya wanna stop, ya have to tell me now,” he mutters against your neck as both of his hands settle on your waist, thumbs playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I’d rather not,” you admit rather shamelessly. You can feel Osamu’s lips curve upwards against your skin as his hands give you a slight squeeze.

“If ya say so,” he says before one of his hands reaches between the two of you to untie your apron. “If ya ever need me to stop, let me know.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, slightly dizzy from the reality of what’s happening right now. One of his hands begins to slide upwards from your waist, cupping your clothed breast and giving it a squeeze, while the other slips downwards under your apron and pushes past the waistband of your shorts, hovering over your panties. Suddenly very aware of the wetness between your legs, you move to close them a little.

“That won’t do ya any good,” Osamu mutters against the back of your neck. As if to prove his point, he presses his middle finger against your clothed slit and swipes upward, humming to himself. “Yer practically dripping and I haven’t even started yet.”

A moan slips past your lips and you can only bite your lip in embarrassment at your own shamelessness.

“It’s just the two of us; you don’t have to be quiet,” he says, as if encouraging you to be as loud as you want and disturb your neighbors. When you still refuse to make another noise, he nudges your legs open with his knees, almost forcing you to lean over the counter for support. As if to further prove his point, he pushes your panties aside and slips his middle finger in between your folds, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Osamu,” you whimper as you feel him kiss his way towards the back of your ear.

“What is it, baby?” His finger is still and unmoving inside of you as you try to gain any sort of friction, attempting to grind your hips against him. His hand doesn’t move as you feel his tongue trace the outer shell of your ear.

“Stop teasing me,” you practically whimper as you ball your hands into fists on the surface in front of you.

“What do ya want me to do?” He sounds smug and you can almost visualize his teasing smirk behind your closed lids.

“Just fuck me,” you say. You fight the embarrassment heating your cheeks, too aroused to focus on anything else.

“I know we’ve been living together for awhile now, but let’s not forget our manners,” he says, beginning to slide his finger out.

“M’Samu, please fuck me!” It comes out too eagerly, too desperately, but you want him to just do something to you.

“That’s all you needed to say,” he lets out a soft chuckle before he slides his finger back in. You find yourself leaning completely on the countertop so you don’t buckle under him and moan when he slides another finger inside, stretching you.

You were right; his fingers reach so much further than yours ever could.

His calloused fingers continue to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace as his other hand that had been on your breast moves down to slip under your shirt. You bite your lip as you feel him expertly unclip the bra before sliding around to cup the flesh, nudging your loose bra aside. His fingers pinch your hardening nipple and you breathe out his name.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he practically grunts, “if ya keep soundin’ like that, I won’t be goin’ easy on ya.”

Part of you has half the mind to take him up on the offer while the other is failing to form coherent words and thoughts.

A familiar tension begins to pull at your lower abdomen as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. It seems that Osamu’s also aware, quickly slipping his hands out from your dripping cunt.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine as you turn back to look at him. He offers a smirk before removing his hands completely from your pants and lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. The way his half-lidded eyes are locked on yours as he swirls his tongue around makes you clench helplessly around nothing.

“Don’t worry, yer gonna thank me later,” he says, dropping his hand. He begins to lower himself so he’s on his knees on the ground before he pulls your shorts and panties down in one clean tug. The cool air hits your wet heat and you bite your lip at the sensation.

You watch him with anticipation as he leans forward, using both hands to massage your ass a couple times before spreading the cheeks apart. He nudges your feet so you can spread a little wider for him, which you wordlessly oblige, and inhale shakily as he leans forward and licks a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck, Osamu,” you hiss as you turn back to look at him. You use one hand to reach around and weave your fingers through his hair, fisting it as he begins to sloppily lap at your cunt.

His tongue dives in and out, the wet squelch echoing around the apartment. You feel your legs tremble as he angles his head to reach a bit further before opting to have his fingers rejoin the fun. Your moans sound nearly pornographic as you attempt to grip at anything, unable to get yourself to properly stand as Osamu wags his head a couple times, swirling his tongue in the process.

A sharp gasp leaves you when you feel his fingers angle themselves and hit a spot you didn’t even know existed, your walls beginning to clench and flutter around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, pushing his head deeper against you. You feel him hum against you as if to encourage you to release onto his face, so you do.

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you feel every nerve ending spark up and you come undone above him. He lets you grind your hips against him a couple more times before he pulls away, breathing heavily as he stands up. He turns you around by your hips and you see your slick coating his lips and chin.

“Look at this mess,” he taunts you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You don’t say anything and wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to taste yourself. As you do so, he makes quick work to get rid of his sweatpants and pulls away to lift his shirt over his head. You go ahead and do the same with your apron, tossing it onto the island behind him and removing your shirt and bra to leave the both of you stark naked in the kitchen.

You take a brief moment to unabashedly check him out, admiring how toned and built he is. Chewing on your bottom lip, you let your fingers trace along the hardened and defined lines of his abdomen, trailing your fingers down to palm him through his boxers. You see the fabric straining and recognize the heat rising to your cheeks as you feel how hard he is, creating a slightly darkened and damp spot where the head of his cock is located. You glance up at him and meet eyes as you hook your thumbs on his waistband, pulling them down. His length practically springs to life, standing proud and tall before you and your mouth practically waters at the sight.

Wrapping your fingers around the base, you bite your lip as you drag your hand upwards to the tip and collect his beading precum, spreading it around generously with the pad of your thumb before using it as lubricant to continue stroking him.

“Fuck,” he moans softly as you lick your lips, getting ready to get on your knees to return the favor that he so generously had given you moments ago. He grabs your wrist to stop you and you look at him curiously. “As much as I’d love to see you suck my cock, I just want to be inside of that pussy of yours right now.”

The hungry look in his eyes is all you need before you kiss him again, this time much sloppier than the previous ones. He maneuvers you around the kitchen for a moment and before you know it, you’re bent over the island countertop with a leg propped up on the cool surface. You hear Osamu spit into his hand and look back to see him give his thick cock a couple generous strokes before positioning himself with one hand while the other holds your hip.

You feel the bulbous head nudge your lower set of lips apart before slowly easing in, your back arching at the pressure already building inside of you. A soft hiss escapes your throat as you try to take all of him, grateful when he pauses once he’s bottomed out within you. You take a deep breath for a moment and feel your muscles relax slightly as you adjust accordingly.

“Are ya ready?” Osamu’s voice comes out surprisingly soft as he leans over you, placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod quietly before feeling both hands on your hips as he slowly begins to pull out. You realize just how thick he is when you feel empty, though it doesn’t last for long when he slams right back into you. A strangled mewl bubbles from your throat as he begins to thrust in and out of you. You lower yourself onto your elbows on the counter and ball your hands into fists, no longer caring how you sound; you’re too lost in your own wave of pleasure.

As Osamu continues his ministrations, you feel the counter buzz slightly and hazily look around with half a mind to simply ignore it. You see Osamu’s phone shaking across the surface next to your discarded apron, the screen lit up with an unfamiliar name.

“’Samu, your phone,” you say between moans, “your phone is ringing.”

His hips slow, though his thrusts continue to hit deep inside of you. He doesn’t have to reach far to grab it and glances at the screen.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “Stay still for me, will ya?”

You halfheartedly nod your head, though you can’t help but whine at the loss of friction as he stills inside of you.

“Hello?” His voice is even as he answers quickly. “This is Osamu, yes.”

It’s hard to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in your chest as he uses one hand to keep your hips still while the other holds his phone. He continues to speak formally, so you assume it’s probably someone important or has something to do with work. You know better than to tease him in the event that this call is actually important, but you can’t resist the urge to just roll your hips a little.

There’s a slight hitch in Osamu’s voice before he clears his throat, though it sounds more like a warning to you than anything. However, that doesn’t stop you as you grow more bold, deciding to create your own rhythm of shallow thrusts. His grip on your hip tightens, though it’s not enough to hurt you just yet.

“Something just came up, so I’m gonna have to call ya back,” you hear Osamu say, his voice becoming more strained as each second ticks by. When he finally hangs up, the phone smacks onto the table, startling you to a halt.

“Sorry, I couldn’t w-”

“Ya think yer so cute, dontcha? I told ya to stay still.” His voice is dangerously low as he hunches over, practically growling in your ear. You whimper softly in response, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. You’re not sure if you should be as turned on as you are right now, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stands upright and reaches around to grab one of your arms, practically yanking you back so you’re also standing up. His other hand reaches around to grab your other arm, pinning your wrists behind your back.

“If yer gonna act like a slut, I’m gonna fuck ya like one,” he snarls lowly and you resist the urge to moan. He manages to reach for your apron and rolls it up, looping it around your elbows.

As one hand holds your newly bound arms behind your back, the other holds your hips before he begins to pull out of you. You feel his whole length leave you empty with the exception of the tip and you’re about to complain again when you feel him slam back in roughly.

“Is this what ya thought of when ya were touchin’ yerself?”

You hardly contain the cry of mixed pain and pleasure as your back arches, his hips snapping against yours at a relentless pace. You can barely process his words, though you know the embarrassment will hit you later; you simply can’t form coherent enough thoughts to care. The hand that was on your hip leaves but only momentarily before his palm claps against your ass. You yelp in surprise as he releases your arms.

“What, did ya never get spanked as a kid?” Osamu taunts as he rubs the reddening skin. You lean back over, supporting yourself on your elbows. His comment barely processes in your head as he does it again.

Coherent words fail to form as you feel your legs begin to tremble. You’re practically running towards another orgasm and you can tell Osamu is too, based on his unstable rhythm and sloppier movements. You feel one of his hands reach around you to play with your nipples while you let your own hand rub your clit, the sensations overwhelming you in a crashing wave of pure bliss.

As your walls tighten and flutter, Osamu pulls out and fists his cock a couple times before you feel hot ropes of cum paint your back and ass, a guttural groan leaving him.

“Holy fuck,” he pants once he recovers from his orgasm. You’re still shaking, bent over the island, breathing heavily.

A dull ringing can be heard in your ears from the intensity of your climax, but you faintly hear the sink running for a moment. Not long after, you feel a warm and damp towel wipe across the mess on your backside and Osamu’s gentle arm pulls you up.

“Hey, was I too rough on ya?” His voice is soft and you shake your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he hands you your clothes from the ground. “Do ya wanna eat now and shower later?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” you sigh as your head begins to clear up. You look over to your forgotten food, your mouth curving downwards into a frown. “Wait, did you not turn off the stove?”

“I was a little preoccupied.”

[helliontherapscallion]

Hello! Um hopefully this is ok but can you do a platonic poly relationship with tech reader and philza? And one day the reader comes over to there abode with a basket full of sweets and pastries (muffins bread ect-) also cottagecore quiet reader please she/they pronouns

Thank you! :D

(A/N): I’m back yall! Sorry I’ve been gone (in terms of writing/request doing) for so long, I just kinda lost motivation to write for a bit

Ok so you’re childhood best friends with Technoblade

You two met when you accidentally bumped into each other in the village by the sbi fam’s house

You were calmly along the cobblestone path when a cute dress in a store window caught your eye. You kept walking, but you were eyeing the dress as you walked by it. It was just your aesthetic: a vintage ruby red dress with laces tying the two sides together, a floused opening to the bottom of the dress, and puffy white sleeves. It looked like it was in your size too. It was absolutely perfect.

Just as you were about to walk into the store to check out the price, you bumped into someone and fell to the ground behind you. Looking up, you saw that the person that you bumped into was also on the ground looking at you. You saw that the boy was about your age with fair skin and long pastel pink hair tied into a messy ponytail. Peculiarly, he had small tusks poking out from his bottom lip, floppy pig ears on the top of his head, and crimson eyes. A piglin hybrid perhaps?

Feeling a small blush work it’s way onto your face, you quickly got up and held out a hand to the boy. “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going! Are you okay? Here, let me help you up.” 

He looked at your hand for a bit before he grabbed it with his own and allowed you to haul him up to his feet. You looked him up and down scanning him for any injuries he might’ve gotten from the fall. Luckily, it didn’t look like he got hurt. The boy looked down at his feet and bent over to pick up the picnic basket and the few muffins that dropped out of it. Putting the muffins back in, he handed the basket back to you with a small smile and a blush of his own.

“It’s really no problem, I’m fine so it’s no harm done. Actually,” he chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, “I wasn’t looking where I was going either. I got distracted by that sword in the window.” He pointed with a thumb over his shoulder at the armory shop next to the dress shop. In the window was a shining golden sword glimmering in the bright sunlight. If you squinted, you could see a sign that said that it had a high level fire aspect and looting enchantments. 

“Well, it looks really pretty. I don’t know much about swords, so maybe you could tell me about them? I’m (y/n),” you gave him a small smile and stuck out your hand once more. He shook it with a grin, “Technoblade.”

That was the start of a beautiful friendship with him and his family

You met Philza, his father

The avian was extremely excited and happy that his quietest son finally made a new friend

He treated you like you were his own daughter

You might as well be a part of the family with how much you came over to babysit Tommy or to just relax with Techno

You always bring over a basket of baked treats/pastries whenever you came over

Lemme just say, the family feasted and always fought over the last one

When you started to come over at least once a day for a bit with a basket full of sweets, Philza had to pull you aside and ask you to slow down a bit with the treats

“Hey (y/n) could I actually talk to you for a second?”

“Sure! Tech, I’ll be out in a sec.” The piglin hybrid curtly nodded and walked out the back door to the backyard. You smiled at Philza before you set the basket down onto the table and started to put the rolls onto a plate.

“I know it’s not much today, I didn’t have much time yesterday to bake.”

“That’s fine, but it’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Internally, you began to panic slightly. Oh Ender, you didn’t do anything bad did you? You couldn’t think of anything you did wrong. In fact, you actively avoided any wrongdoing or talking to strangers. Oh no, were you accidentally rude to someone?

“You aren’t in trouble,” he smiled lightly when he saw you slump in relief, “I was just wondering why you always bring over baked things. Don’t get me wrong, they’re delicious and we really appreciate that you take the time to make us things, but we kinda have a little too much. Maybe slow down a bit with bringing them over?”

You felt an embarrassed blush spread across your face as you nodded and put all your focus into transferring the bread rolls over to the plate. “Sorry Phil, I just bake whenever I’m stressed or bored and I just have a lot left over after I give some to my family.”

“And that’s completely valid! Just maybe don’t bring over so much, breaking up the fights with Tommy, Wil, and Tech just gets a bit much at times,” he grinned and clapped a hand over your shoulder.

As the years passed, you and Techno only grew closer

You taught Techno how to do meticulous neat braids in his hair while in turn he taught you some self defense

Mans makes sure you can properly and efficiently wield a sword and shoot a bow and arrow 

Poor guy can’t lose another friend

When he moves to the tundra, he invites you to live with him but you reluctantly refuse

You had Tommy and Wilbur to look after in L’manberg

Being pissed at Schlatt when he exiles them

Following them into exile leaving behind shocked Manbergians 

They didn’t think you were capable of the screaming, let alone such profanity

Practically launching yourself at Techno when he agrees to helping Pogtopia

Him making sure that the withers don’t harm you, even going as far as hitting them and luring them away from you

Staying with Techno after L’manberg is reinstated under Tubbo’s rule

Starting to dislike leadership and governments in general after Tommy gets exiled (again)

Convincing Technoblade to let Tommy stay with you two

Absolutely hating governments when the Butcher Army places Philza under house arrest and rolls up to your guys’ house and takes Techno and Carl

They lock you in the house, but you pick the lock with the bobby pin you kept the bandana pinned to your hair with 

You follow them to L’manberg and break down when you see the anvils crashing down onto Techno

Screaming profanities at the Butcher Army and taking out your sword to attack them not noticing when Techno runs away safely

Philza watching everything from the balcony and cheering you on

You almost take away one of Fundy’s (whom you considered to be your nephew until the whole Butcher Army incident) lives before you feel a sword slice your arm and an arrow shooting its way through your thigh

Turning, you gave Tubbo and Ranboo the fiercest glare you could as you were standing over a half-dead Fundy with a sword dripping blood hanging at your side

You, the soft spoken and sweet one that gave everybody baked goods wherever you went, screaming profanities at the festival and the execution was scary enough, but this?

Absolute nightmare fuel, gonna stick in their minds for a long time

You attempt to fight them but you lose and end up with injuries too severe for you to continue fighting

Philza being the one to yell at you to go home to the tundra telling you that Techno’s alive bc of a totem of undying 

You felt kinda stupid after that, Technoblade never dies (you often half joked that he was immortal like Philza)

You limp home and get met with a bone crushing uncharacteristic hug from Techno

He patches you up after reassuring you that the blood on him wasn’t his (he tells you about the duel in great detail)

In turn you tell him about your 3 v 1 duel, feeling a bit dejected bc you ended up losing

Him being literally so proud of you for facing 3 people at once, but also scolding you slightly for going into it blindly

When Philza moves in, everything feels complete and fulfilled (at least to you)

You help Philza clean and dress his damaged wing

Also helping him do some physical therapy so that he could at least move it

Comforting him whenever he felt down about not being able to fly again

You invite him and Techno to cook with you and it surprisingly ends up better than you expected it to be

When Tommy betrays Techno, you and Philza end up being the only ones he could fully trust (later slowly adding Niki and Ranboo to the mix when The Syndicate is formed)

You are Harpocrates when The Syndicate is formed due to your quiet nature

Philza and Techno fully 100% supporting your decision of not wanting to reveal your identity

At the second meeting you show up with a full mask covering your face and the opposite of what you normally wore (more of a grunge type beat)

Only communicating in nods and writing at meetings, living up to your nickname

You never reveal your identity to Niki or Ranboo

Pleasant late night conversations around the fire with hot chocolate and your baked goods

Techno still lets you braid his hair (sometimes you even put flowers in it) from time to time

You braid Philza’s hair when it gets too long

Braid chains when yall get too bored? Hell yeah 

Ultimately, you three become a strong family unit (goals)

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch  @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng  @404rynnotfound  @luluwinchester  @laura--444  @the-cult-classic-bitch  @youngstarfishdinosaur

[blorboverse]

Chapter 1: Roxan

The first world I travel to is beautiful.

The thing you have to know about my home dimension is that it’s depressing as fuck. Think, um, like, hardcore cyberpunk. You never see the sun past the thick clouds of smog. The buildings are dull gray concrete, with windows that need cleaning. And the people? Let’s just say, there’s a reason I left.

This, however, rocks. The sky is a beautiful blue, verging on teal, and I’m surrounded by green and yellow fields. Honeybees dart between flowers, and the smell of wheat is heavy in the air. In the distance, there are thatched huts clustered together. 

I exhale. I made the right decision.

I set off through the tall grass, hoping that ticks don’t exist in this dimension. The town is about an hour away– maybe I can find someone to help there. 

I’ve walked for almost seven seconds when my leg gets caught in something, sending me sprawling to the ground.

Something jumps out of the grass and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the knife point to be pressed to my throat–

But suddenly I hear the cords of a string instrument. What the hell? I open my eyes again.

My leg is caught in a snare. The tight wire is snug to my leg, not tight enough to break the skin but definitely tight enough to bruise. And standing in front of me is a humanoid with pink-purple skin. He has jaw-length short black hair, horns, and a long thick tail. He’s wearing a long white dress and flats, and holding what looks like a lute. A messenger bag is slung over his shoulder.

There’s a beat. Then,

“Are you going to rob me?” I ask.

“Are you rich?” he asks me back.

“I don’t even know what currency this world uses, man.”

“Then no.” He pauses. Considers for a moment. “You must be one of those dimension hoppers, huh?”

“I guess,” I say. “This is my first world. Other than home, I mean.”

He cracks a toothy grin. “Oh, man, congrats. My uncle did a little hopping once upon a time. I’ve heard it’s pretty fun.”

“Yeah, sure. Can you let me out now?”

“Oh, right.” He strums a few chords on his lute, and the wire disappears from my leg. He offers a hand to help me up. “The snare wasn’t even for people, by the way. I’m trying to study how musical buffs affect the energy of wild pigs!”

“Sounds kind of dangerous,” I comment.

He laughs. “I’ve been charged a few times. But I always heal both the pig and myself before I release it.”

“I’m Can,” I say. 

“Roxan,” he says with a smile.

“I like your dress,” I tell him. 

“I like your bodysuit.” he replies. “So, Can, why are you hopping? Treasure? Glory?”

“Friendship,” I say. “I want to make at least one friend in every dimension, and help whoever possible.”

“Aren’t there infinite dimensions?”

“Yup.”

“You’ll be traveling forever.”

“Yup.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself. Am I your friend for this dimension?”

“I guess,” I say. “Is that cool?”

He looks like he’s about to nod, but catches himself, and furrows his brow. “I’ll only be your friend if you help me with something.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” I ask incredulously.

That makes Roxan smile. “Yes. But it’s fun blackmailing. I just want you to jam with me for a while!”

“Jam with you?” 

“Like play music.”

I look down. “I don’t play.” Not much time to learn instruments in a science lab.

“No problem. I have something easy.” He digs around in his bag, and pulls out a wooden circle with long thin strips of metal on it. He plops down, criss-cross, and pats the ground next to him.

When I do, he hands me the object, and says, “This is a finger piano. All you have to do is press the little tabs.”

I hold it, not touching the tabs. After a while, Roxan starts to fidget. “What are you waiting for?”

“Just like, press anything? What if it sounds bad?”

“Then I’m not going to be your friend,” he laughs. “Just play. I’ll follow.”

I thumb one of the tabs. It makes a plink sound. I thumb another. I start pressing random keys, hoping that the jumble of notes will somehow arrange itself into a melody.

Roxan cocks his head at my mishmash of chords. His ears twitch, and I’m worried that I’ve, like, irreversibly fucked up. But then, he dips his head and begins to play his lute.

Oh my god.

His music sounds like a million butterfly wings. Or seedlings popping out of the ground. Or maybe just springtime. Whatever it sounds like, it’s nothing like the grind and hum of machinery that I’m so used to. Every random note I play gets swept up by the melody, calling to mind the fluttering of a bird’s wings and the crawl of an earthworm.

I pick my eyes up from the piano and am met with a wondrous sight. All around us, the grass is sprouting purple flowers. Lots of them. Tiny buds grow on the stalks of grass, expanding and opening immediately, until the stalks are covered in the flowers and are too heavy to support themselves on their own. Then, the grass stalks topple, and the flowers cover the ground like a carpet. As we play, the circle of flowers around us gets bigger and bigger.

I pluck two more tabs that I hope sound kind of final, and then stop. Roxan gets the hint, and trills off into a finale. He opens his eyes. “Pretty cool, right?”

I give him a small smile. “Pretty cool.”

“Keep the piano,” he says. “Maybe next time you come visit, we can jam again.”

“I’ll be better next time,” I promise. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Roxan says.

“You… don’t know my history.”

“You don’t know mine.”

“Touché,” I concede.

“What’s important is the now,” he says. “And right now, it’s a beautiful day.”

I breathe in the wheat-smelling air. I exhale. And we just sit there together, enjoying the blue sky and the purple, purple flowers.

OC by @fitzkn​

[lolita-lollipop]

yandere other mother x reader- Coraline au

warnings- yandere behavior, platonic yandere, manipulation, slight infantilism, mentions of neglect, false reality,

this one really isn't bad, but just to warn you, if any of these things trigger you, please don't read!

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“Y/n this is insane! Can’t you see that she’s crazy?!” Coraline yelled at you from inside the dusty room while the three ghosts watched, their mouths had been sewn shut long ago, so they weren’t able to intervene. You stood there, feeling like you wanted to cry, this “other mother” was amazing, your real parents never showed much affection, going far enough that it could be Called neglect, so when your other mother held you in her lap, and braided your hair, and gave you warm hugs, and kisses on the cheeks, you felt happy. Your other father was just as amazing, but still, their treatment of you felt similar to one of a baby’s, always treating you like a young child who can’t think for themselves. Coraline noticed this far earlier, while you remained happy and oblivious, the buttons for eyes were the last straw for her.

“I know okay! I just, she’s so nice, I don’t even know what to think anymore, you know what it feels like to actually have parents… I don't, my entire life I’ve been shoved in a little blue house down the stairs and told ‘don't disappoint us’ by my parents! I just want to feel loved… it’s just, it’s just not fair” you spoke, lip quivering, you couldn’t even remember the last time you allowed yourself to cry, you weren’t supposed to love the “other parents” but you did, they were the parents you never had, and you just had to live them. At this point silent tears were trailing down your cheeks, Coraline remained fuming at you, not even sparing a moment to acknowledge the two small black buttons that seemed to appear out of nowhere, peeking through the wall.

“That doesn’t matter, do you really want tiny little needles poking in and out of your eyeballs? Do you really want to leave your real parents behind? Do you want me to leave you behind?” She seethed, you shook your head, letting out a few small whimpers and sobs under your breath, you hated that she was right, you hated it so much, you couldn’t just leave everything in the real world for this parallel universe void of life, you should want to back there right? where no one cared about you, where no one loved you, where you were nothing.

“Coraline? Is that any way to speak to your friend?” A soft voice rang from behind your form, the few lost souls floating in the room ten up, showering to the far corners where the other mother couldn’t see them, then you felt warm hands engulf your waist, pulling you closer to the women’s chest, you subconsciously leave into her warmth, she glared down at Coraline, stoking your head lovingly. In reality, she hadn’t wanted for you to get pushed down here, but Coraline was getting in the way, and you just got caught in the crossfire, she did make sure that your landing was softer though, while Coraline's was harsh.

“You don’t get to tell us what to do, you aren’t her mother.” Coraline breathed out, slimming her eyes into a harsh stare at the woman in whose chest you were sobbing into. One moment, you were in the cold cellar-like room, the next, you were back in the baby pink room that was yours in this place, your true room was a boring white, with a ritzy mattress in the middle, and a small cabinet that served as a closet. Although you didn’t particularly like the color pink, it was nice to know that someone cared enough to bring true colors into your life. The other mother continued her embrace, picking up and cradling your head against her shoulder, you felt a wave of drowsiness overtake your senses, it hit you like a pound of bricks, and you squeezed the back of the women’s shirt to see if you were dreaming or not, her hold just felt so… comforting.

“Was she mean to you darling? Don’t you worry your little head about it, shhhhhh, just fall asleep, mother will take care of everything.” She spoke, bouncing slightly up and down with each step she took towards the large bed that was displayed in the center of the room. You barely muttered a small “wait” before falling asleep in her arms. She tenderly placed your body under the silky sheets, wrapping you up with the soft fabric and placing a small pig plushy next to you, keeping an eye on her precious’s little daughter while she tended to some “housework”.

The second you went unconscious you slipped into a weird dream, you were walking on a thin sheet of water, in a pitch dark room, it was so cold like someone had dunked you in a bucket of ice, you stared out into the nothingness, gradually growing more anxious, where are you?

“HELLO! IS ANYBODY OUT THERE!” You screamed, only to be greeted by the echo of your own words, nothing more, nothing less. You started to swivel around in a moment of panic, having just about no idea what could happen to you in this dark abyss. That was until you dek the floor below you disappear, and you popped into existence into a completely different place, it was a medium sized room, the layout was similar to a grocery store, multiple shelves made the room feel smaller, what was odd about it, was that all the shelves were packed with hundreds of snowglobes. You admired the pretty glass structures as you slowly walked down the aisles, each had a completely different design, with little figures inside, you found it adorable, ogling at the pretty things. That was until you heard quiet clicking of heels, and your other mother came into view.

“There you go, now don’t be rude to me! You are a very lucky girl that I’m even letting you live, you should know much better than to taint my daughter's mind with your filthy voice, oh you make such a great addition to my collection! Enjoy your stay, forever” she chimed, you were positive that she couldn’t see you, mainly because you were standing frozen directly in front of her, and she hadn’t acknowledged you. At least you weren’t freezing anymore! You tiptoed closer to the snowglobe that was just placed among the collections, wondering why your mother was so enthusiastic about it. And saw nothing special about it, other than the bright yellow raincoat that adorned the figurine.

you remained completely unaware. of the thousands of button eyes that watched you from the globes, begging to be shattered, and set free.

“Pretty” you muttered to yourself before the world faded again, and you were back into your body, snuggled up under the covers, clutching the pig plushy close to your chest, you felt awake, but also very asleep, forgetting your entire dream the moment your eyes opened, slightly surprised to see that you were still in the pink room, in the other house. You could hear the feint sound of your bedroom door opening, the creak rang through the room. And the other mother smiled softly at your lovable position, cooing under her breath, trying not to be too loud and wake you up.

“Darling, we have to get up now, oh I know I know your still tired, but it’s dinner time, you can’t stay in bed all night, little sleepyhead, my little sleepyhead.” She spoke, rubbing your shoulder while you groaned at the sudden speaking and noise. You didn't know how long that dream lasted, but you did know that it was odd, so odd that in fact, it made up your mind for you about the whole button eyes thing.

“Uhm- Mother? I-I’m sorry, but I- I don’t want to put buttons in my eyes.” You muttered, awaiting a harsh reaction, but instead, getting another one of her sweet smiles, she picked you up again and sat you in her lap, your small frame getting engulfed by hers.

“Oh is that what you were worrying so hard about? Don’t worry honey, you never were going to have to sow buttons in your eyes, it was just to see if I could trust you, and I know that I can trust you now.” She stated, calmly, a little too calmly. So… she lied? You got in a fight with your best friend because she wanted to “see if she could trust you”?

“Oh- okay, where coralline though? Can I talk to her? Please, mother?” You started begging after seeing her stoic expression, why did you want to see her? Was she not good enough for you? Coralline was mean to you, she hurt her little girl! Why did you want to see her? We’re you going to leave your mother for a snobby brat? She tightened her hold on you, pressing you closer to her, whispering little “shh” or “stay with me” in your ear, for some reason, you couldn't place what Coraline's face looked like, even though you had seen her just earlier, any memories of her were slowly dimming, fuzzy spots started appearing in any of those memories, and like turning of a staticky tv, they disappeared. You couldn’t even remember the name “coralline” after a few minutes of being cradled in this women’s lap.

“Cmon darling, let’s go eat dinner now, your father made it this time, I’m surprised he hasn't burn down the kitchen!” She spoke, getting a few sleepy giggles out of you. After helping you down the stairs she led you to the dining room, where you went on and sat at the large table next to your two parents. And so, you forgot about your “real” world, staying young forever here, even growing younger and smaller as time went on, forgetting about coralline, and your parents, and the small door, you lived your life happy, dressed in frilly pink clothing, learning to lobe your mother as she grew more obsessed with you, she got what she wanted in the end

You stayed mother’s little girl forever

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have a great day today :)

[gallivantingheart]

eau de vie

who?: god!jeonghan x (f)reader

word count: 1586

genre/s: modern gods!au

warnings: mentions of alcohol

synopsis: “how long do you plan on staying?” // “until i figure you out.”

a/n: look! a new fic! a new...jeonghan fic, what a surprise. what’s next - pigs flying? also, if you want, listen along here

You aren’t a party goer - at least not ones like this. The wild ones that end in slippery memories and sticky shoes and shattered glass. You were more about house parties with semi casual attire where the most that would happen is fight down the side of the house, a lightweight puking their guts in the prized petunias and maybe one explicit romp in the wrong room.

But tonight you weren’t feeling tame or casual. The tumbling combo of end of year and a nasty breakdown of a relationship left you needing some kind of break away.

Shimmied into your most alluring outfit you could find, a friend on each arm, A swirling neon sign lighting your way. Eau De Vie.

Joy simultaneously coos and screws her nose up at the dark pink-burgundy sign. The line stretches long and you lament your heels.

“Oooh, that’s a pretty fancy name for some club out east.” She says, her velvet mini skirt hugging her hips and thighs desperately.

Your ankle tips on the uneven pavement and the three of you burst out into hysterical giggles. Pressing yourselves against the wall, you shrug.

“I guess, but I’ve heard really good things about the place. They have an r&b room and a rooftop wine bar.”

Yeri perks up at the prospect of the r&b vibes, her short hair rolling with the breeze.

You team up with a few guys behind you - one brimming with energy named Chan, another with dark hair and mesmerizing eyes called Wonwoo and the last introducing himself as Soonyoung, a bleach blonde with a savage turn to his lips. You exchanged names and universities along with what you were all studying. Turns out Wonwoo had your communications lecturer last year and had the grace to give you pointers on them. The bouncer knew the three men though and waved you all in, shooting you a wink with his dimpled smirk. You didn't even have a chance to pay for entry as you’re swept in.

The vibe throws you off instantly. Oddly enough, as if you were dancing in a wine bottle. Dark purple and red lights and a vibration that hums through you. It was different to the beat that thrums from the speakers and through the floor. It felt like a different frequency, radiating through your bloodstream. As you look between your friends though, it seems you’re the only one who feels it as they beam and wonder, dragging you toward the bar. You order some kind of cocktail - Cranberry Sunset - in a swirling orange and cranberry. The straw is quirky enough to loop and twirl in neon pink, an umbrella balanced in the ice. Yeri squeals at the sound of a Beyoncé remix, dragging Joy out before she has a chance to order and you laugh as they spin and sway into the fray of the dance floor.

The more you watch and swing your hips absently to the playlist, the more things seem to tip and turn. The feminine figures look a little manic, the lights shining in the whites of their eyes and glinting off their teeth like something feral. Yeri appears suddenly, sweat beading along her hairline and dripping down her neck. She grips your hand tight enough for her fake nails to dig in.

“Come! Dance! It’s fun!” She yells.

You laugh and resist. “I’m g-good!”

Her brow creases - she knows what you’re thinking about - Jaehyun’s smiles and the pastel striped over shirts that made him look like he was always on holiday. “Damn Jaehyun! He’s done! Come - Dance.”

You relent with a smile and let her yank you into the throng of melting bodies.

You feel that vibration again as Joy laughs low and fixes her hands to your hips to guide your sway - you never had the best coordination.

“You’re hot!” She yells in your ear. “Act like it!”

The combo of your friends and the electric hum that ripples is just enough to let your hair down. Let go, you think you hear in a whisper behind your ear.

Song after song - some you sing along to so loud it scrapes against your throat, others hypnotic enough that it has you writhing so close to Yeri that you could see your reflection in her eyes and her breath on your cheek. But something is still a little off. You can’t quite lose yourself like everyone else, something manic in the way the crowd moves that scares you. The heady scent of spilled wine permeates the air, as if it’s stuck to your shoes or spilled on your clothes, strange but far more favourable than the expected ten different layers of sweat.

You manage to slip away from your friends to wade through to a sparsely populated bar. Turning you find most of the club goers on the dancefloor behind you, some kind of murmur beginning amongst them - someone probably just fell over. Breathless, you ask for a vodka and raspberry and something with a bit of fizz thrown in. Even the bartender looks surprised to see you - his dark doe eyes glowing with the purple lighting that surrounds him, shadowed by his long, long lashes. As you turn to rest on a barstool a pair of weights seems to rest between your bare shoulder blades, someone’s eyes on you. Thinking about it now, it’s been there for a while. You make a slow turn, chewing on your straw. Midway down the bar is the brightest sight you’ve seen all night. 

A young man in a black blazer and striped shirt, a little too formal for the chaotic dance club. His silvery hair catches the lights, bouncing it like a fractured halo. His eyes would be bottomless if he wasn’t wearing black already. Even though you’ve caught him he doesn’t break his gaze or shy away from your surveying sight. Instead he reclines against the counter top and leisurely lifts his shot of soju to his pink lips - only then does he turn away politely to tip it back. You swear it’s not magnetism that pulls you over, more curiosity at this man’s blatant stare.

A loud, obnoxious suck of your straw against ice and then, “can I help you?”

He shrugs. “No, no. We’re good.”

You take another sip and give him a skeptical up and down glance. His shoes even look too shiny. The scent of wine gets thicker the longer you stand near him until it feels like every breath is merlot on your tongue.

“Not many come for a second drink. We’re well known for our playlists here, thanks to Vernon.” He draws your gaze up to the DJ with a sharp jawline and infectious grin, his fingers dancing over the sound system.

You heave a breath and your mind seems to click. You turn back, gaping, your drink all but forgotten.

“I - you own this place?” You murmur.

You’re a little too shocked to voice it much louder, but from the smirk that turns his pretty mouth you’re sure he’s seen the penny drop. Now that you’re closer, you see that the striped shirt is thin and willowy, part of it curling up to wrap in a choker over his throat. There is a hint of shimmer that dances over his high points, a cool pearly silver. The contrasting elements of him are giving you whiplash.

“Yeah, I do.”

You state your name in respectful bewilderment. “And you?”

You hold your hand out to shake his but blink and laugh at your sober silliness - who shakes hands in a nightclub? The silver haired man giggles at the way you fold your hands in your lap, but says nothing of your propriety.

“Depends.” He shrugs again, twisting with all the grace of a dancer to pour two shots.

“On what?” You screw your nose up.

He hands you the glass and you gasp. As it passes from your fingers to his, you watch as it swirls from clear to a rich red. It’s the same shade as his eyes. The vibration that’s been unsettled in you all night seems to harmonize with something you can’t make out and you can finally breathe.

“How long you plan on staying.” He answers.

The drink stains his lips like food dye in a violent smear of crimson. It doesn’t scare you as you sling your own drink back.

“Until I figure you out.” You argue.

He laughs, properly this time, his body swaying with the sound. It drowns out the set Vernon is playing, even with a speaker a few stools away. The owner eyes you, eyes glowing. His fingertips lay achingly close to yours on the dark counter top, taunting you.

“Most call me Jeonghan.” His voice is high, the tone unfinished.

You purse your lips and roll your eyes. Despite your curiosity, you never had much patience for cat and mouse games. Nor the brain power for riddles.

“Okay. Jeonghan.” You huff.

Jeonghan shakes his head and moves towards you for the first time, closing most of the space. The air stills and you give in, laying your hand over his and turning it to fidget with his narrow fingers. He breaks his gaze for a moment to watch the motion and everything feels too slow, the world slanted sideways. You hear everything and nothing. Clear and muted.

“No. Dionysus.” He corrects you finally.

You can finally tell where the other hum is coming from - him.

You frown. “Like...the god?”

Dionysus grins.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

a little unconventional (part one)

[foster au]

this is set in America because i don't know how Romania works

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

rapture rising

“Alcina, my beloved sister, are you sure all of this is necessary?”

Alcina shot a glare over her shoulder at her toddling younger brother, who she was making carry in several boxes full of various items into one of the many rooms in her mansion. This one wasn’t one of the bedrooms, but rather a temporary storage room for all the things she had recently bought. She was going to have everything set up for the children to choose from when they eventually arrived. Just thinking about them getting to pick out their bedsheets and paint for their new rooms made a smile come to her lips, excitement rushing through her like dozens of butterflies flying for the first time.

…And then her idiot brother bumped into the doorframe and caused an avalanche of boxes to come down on top of him.

“Be careful!” Alcina barked, whirling around to him. She bent down to start picking the boxes up. “You’re lucky there was nothing fragile in here.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Heisenberg grunted, rubbing his head.

“And to answer your questions, dearest brother, yes, this is all very necessary,” Alcina said. “I need this to be perfect for them. This may be the first time those little girls get a real home.”

“Inflating your ego, aren’t you?”

Alcina stepped on his foot.

“I have the paints.” Moreau, Alcina’s other brother, shuffled inside, holding several cans of paint on his arms. If they were hurting him, he didn’t say anything. He seemed pleased with himself for being so useful.

“Thank you, Sal,” Alcina said. She took the cans from him and placed them against the wall. “Yellow, green, red, blue, pink, purple… Do you think that’s enough? What if they want, like, a mauve room?”

“Mauve?” Heisenberg echoed as he was crow hopping on one foot, still recovering from being stomped on.

“It’s a shade of purple,” Moreau supplied.

“I know what mauve is, asshole,” Heisenberg hissed. “I was just saying.”

“And I’m just saying, what if they want a lighter-colored room?” Alcina said. “This purple is dark. Should I go buy more?”

“You could mix white into the paint?” Moreau suggested.

Alcina thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I could do that. Good idea.”

“Who wants a mauve bedroom, anyway?” Heisenberg muttered.

“Alcina!” A fourth voice echoed throughout the house, and Alcina’s sister entered the room. Donna looked uncharacteristically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was clutching something in her hands. “Alcina, I have finished them!”

“When did you get here?” Heisenberg looked at her.

“Just now,” Donna said. “It doesn’t matter. Look!”

A beautiful doll was presented to Alcina. It was hand-stitched and dressed with great care. All the little details, down to the freckles and shiny eyes, were incredibly-made, and Alcina couldn’t help but pick it up tentatively, as though she were afraid of accidentally destroying it.

“Oh, Donna,” she said. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.”

Donna beamed. “I have also made stuffed animals and toy clothes for them. An entire wardrobe, in fact. Many selections.”

“Damn,” Heisenberg looked impressed. “Toys dress better than I do.”

“We know,” the other three said in sync, eyeing his ratty trenchcoat and old cowboy hat that he insisted on wearing everywhere.

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Heisenberg barked like one of his dogs.

“Shouldn’t have said anything,” Alcina shrugged daintily. She looked back at Donna and smiled. “Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate your support. I appreciate all of your support. Even yours, Karl.”

“Sure, sure…” Heisenberg said, though Alcina didn’t miss the glint of fondness in his eyes.

“This is so exciting,” Donna said. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, Alcina. Do you remember when we were all adopted by Mother?”

Heisenberg snorted. “I remember being kidnapped as a child and held for ransom, and then being one of the abduction victims to be actually found alive, only to discover that my parents had been killed while trying to get me back, to which I was then thrown into a home with you three.”

Donna winced. “Not…quite what I had in mind.”

“And you say ‘you three’ like we weren’t your best friends growing up,” Moreau pointed out idly, not looking at Heisenberg as he was helping unload some of the boxes. That one in particular held a wide selection of different bed sheets, ranging from leopard print to floral to plain blue.

Heisenberg raised his nose and huffed. “Well. Still.”

Alcina shook her head with a warm smile.

She vividly remembered life with her adoptive mother, Miranda, and her three other siblings. She was reborn from ash and flame after her old family estate burned down to the ground, smoldering the life she used to have and taking her parents with it. Yes, she could still smell the smoke, taste the embers on her tongue, even now, thirty-five years later. She was so small back then, only nine years old when the fire started, and she watched her home crumble to pieces right before her teary eyes. She thought it was over, that she had nothing, that she was going to be alone forever without her mother and father, but then a woman in a black cowl whisked her up into tender arms and took her under her wing as though she were the chicken to a nurturing mother bird.

She was the first of Miranda’s ragtag rascal children with harsh upbringings. For two years, it was just the both of them, reading books and watching movies in a beautiful countryside manor that quickly became her new home. Though the wounds had still been raw, the burns were very fresh, Miranda filled the void in her heart that her parents’ death left behind, extinguishing that eternal fire of survivor guilt and mourning.

And then the others came along.

At the time, Alcina had been rather indignant at the idea of having siblings. She was an only child with her birth family and she preferred to stay an only child with her new one, too, but she never voiced this opinion to Miranda. She grinned and bore it, even if it meant losing the attention of her mother.

Though, they didn’t end up being that bad…

The first of the “intruders” as she used to call them was Salvatore Moreau, a boy her age, though three months younger, and with a story similar to her own. He had been in a car crash after his drunken father got into a pretty nasty collision. The engine caught fire and it wasn’t long until the rest of the car followed. Moreau was trapped in the inferno, but managed to get out, running towards a nearby lake to extinguish the flames that were trying to make him its newest pyre. Unfortunately, the event left him badly burned, the scar still lingering all these years later, and nobody wanted to take in such a “disfigured child.” Miranda, however, stepped up to the challenge and fostered the boy, eventually adopting him fully later on.

Alcina was, admittedly, rather uneased by her new brother’s appearance at first, but she quickly got accustomed to him, even protective. There were several moments in school where she verbally (and sometimes even physically) pummeled any kids who dared to make fun of him, drilling into the bullies that he was not to be messed with while she was around. Some of her best retributions were when she threatened to leak unwarranted dick pics to the entire school, as it wasn’t uncommon for horny teenage boys to try to get into her pants, and that always shut them up quickly, especially when she loudly proclaimed details on their pathetic excuse for a penis, like the size and shape.

She and Moreau grew close rather quickly, much quicker than Miranda had been expecting. They both enjoyed more mellow things, like reading books and going on walks through the forest. Moreau was the sole reason she passed any English assignments done on Shakespearean literature, as he actually knew how to discern the confusing text, while she had to reread the same page over and over again to simply get a loose grasp on the grammar. He enjoyed cheesy romcoms, birdwatching, and swimming, the last of which he had a strong affinity for because of how the lake beside the car wreck very well could have been the only reason he survived. Now, he owned that very lake and made it into a popular fishing and boating destination for locals and tourists alike.

The second to arrive was Donna Beneviento, when Alcina and Moreau were both twelve. She was a full five years younger than the two of them and didn’t talk very often, at least for a good chunk of the first year she was there. She was put into the foster program after her parents commit suicide, leaving her with nothing but anxiety, trauma-induced selective muteness, and a doll named Angie.

It took time, but Donna eventually started opening up. First to Miranda, and then to Alcina and Moreau. Alcina strongly remembered a time when her little sister came to her room during a thunderstorm, lips quivering, tears glistening in her eyes, Angie clutched in a vice from her thin arms. She didn’t say anything, just stared from the doorway, whimpering and shivering.

“Alright,” Alcina had sighed. She flipped open her comforter, welcoming Donna. “Come on.”

Donna had brightened and skittered into the bed, snuggling right up against Alcina’s side. Alcina didn’t mind and resumed the book she had been reading before--Animal Farm, she believed. Donna pointed at the pages and then looked up at her curiously.

“Oh, this?” Alcina had said. “It’s called Animal Farm. It’s about these talking farm animals overthrowing their farmer to gain freedom, only to then be ruled by a communist pig.”

Donna blinked. “What’s a communist?”

“Well, you see…”

Her late-night explanation was certainly aided by the fact that they were in the middle of the Cold War at the time.

Overtime, Donna slowly grew out of her shell. Though she was still soft-spoken and reserved, she was also very kind-hearted and incredibly creative, which she showed through paintings, arts and crafts, and doll making. She would make dolls out of anything she could find--wood, thread, clay--so it made sense when she eventually became a toymaker once she grew up.

Finally, there was Karl Heisenberg when Alcina and Moreau were thirteen and Donna was eight. Right from the start, he was a loud, spitfire ten-year-old that broke the serene silence that used to hang over Miranda’s estate. He caused a great amount of mischief and mayhem, though Alcina would later discover it was to hide the fact that he was deeply traumatized by what exactly had happened to make him a foster child.

Even now, so many years later, Alcina still didn’t know the full story. Miranda said it wasn’t her tale to share and Heisenberg simply didn’t like talking about it very much. But from what she did know, Heisenberg used to belong to an incredibly wealthy business owner that ruled over their company with an iron fist. Due to the harshness his parents inflicted on their employees, it caused the workers to revolt against the abuse. A certain group took this way too far and kidnapped Heisenberg, holding him for ransom so they could get better treatment and pay at their work. Something ended up happening during the time between Heisenberg being held hostage and his parents paying up, and it left his mother and father in a way that he could never bring himself to explain. She only got snippets of the brutality of their deaths through brief moments when he would come to after vicious nightmares, one of which she actually stepped in to stop when she heard him struggling one night.

“Their heads, Alci,” Heisenberg had gasped, clawing manically for a desperate grasp on her arms, his body jerking and spasming in terror as his nightmare was still releasing his small, twelve-year-old body. “Their heads-- their brains were--” And then he stopped and keeled into her chest, sobbing in a way Alcina had never seen him do before in the two years he was living with her before that moment. Despite her occasional vex towards the boy, he was still her little brother and she was still his big sister, so she had wrapped her arms around him and held him close while he trembled and cried.

She never did find out what Heisenberg meant by “their heads,” but she had a hunch. Still, she never asked.

Nowadays, Heisenberg ran his own factory, where he treated his employees the way his parents should have treated theirs, learning from their mistakes. He also fostered all different kinds of dog breeds until they found their forever homes and rescued the more ‘vicious’ ones, like pit bulls and rottweilers, all of which he treated like royalty.

A freakishly tall girl, a burned boy, a selective mute, and a dog lover… They certainly weren’t the epitome of the stereotypical nuclear family, but they were family through and through, if not by blood, then by bloodshed.

“Do you guys remember the time Karl tried to clean the dishwasher with Kool-Aid?” Donna reminisced with a giggle.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Heisenberg said.

“Absolutely not,” Donna grinned at him.

“I still don’t know how you came to the conclusion that that would work,” Alcina shook her head.

Heisenberg threw his arms up into the air. “John said it did!”

“John also tried to steal a school urinal.”

“Also, you’re supposed to take all of the dishes out before you try to clean it with Kool-Aid,” Moreau spoke up. “You left all of the pots and plates and silverware in it.”

“And he didn’t even put it in the right spot!” Alcina joined, cackling. “You’re supposed to put the powder in the detergent dispenser. Karl, you just poured it out all over the dishes!”

“It wasn’t even the right powder,” Donna put in. “You’re supposed to strictly use unsweetened lemonade only. You used tropical punch!”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all burst into laughter, while Heisenberg crossed his arms and glared at them.

“John never specified any of that!” he blustered.

“Never trust John, dear,” Alcina tittered.

“Well, it happened!” Heisenberg said. “It’s over! What other boxes do you need to move!”

More laughter.

“I’m serious! I’ll get the boxes! Also WHAT IS THAT.”

They all turned to see a patchy tortoiseshell cat lazily strolling into the room with them. It looked like it had been run over, dismembered, run over again, and then put back together by a blind surgeon, but it held itself like it was the most pristine lion to ever walk the earth. It glanced over at the four siblings, meowed at them, then continued on its stroll to one of the empty boxes, which it jumped into and made itself comfortable inside.

“It’s a cat,” Donna said as if it should have been obvious, earning a snort from Moreau and then a glare from Heisenberg.

“It’s not funny,” Moreau said quickly after Heisenberg glared at him, too, but it was obvious Heisenberg’s leer was all in good fun.

“No, no. Tom from Tom and Jerry is a cat,” Heisenberg said. “THAT is an overgrown street rat.”

“Well, one could assume the same about you, but you don’t see us pointing it out,” Donna said breezily.

Another bout of laughter, this time with Heisenberg included.

“Okay, okay, you got me there,” Heisenberg said.

“Must you insist on reacting the same way every single time you see Tea Cake?” Alcina finally spoke up through the playful bickering. She crouched down next to the cat and stroked its back, which caused it to purr in content.

“It’s my trademark,” Heisenberg said with a shrug. “That old woman is still alive?”

“And kicking,” Alcina smiled fondly at her pet.

Tea Cake had been with her for a long fourteen years, witnessing more than a few existential crises and drunken concerts put on to chase off her lurking PTSD. That cat came during the worst part of her life, and Alcina owed everything to that little beast. She learned how to laugh and smile and genuinely feel again, not hide behind the facade that she was a strong, powerful woman who could take on everything and come out without a scratch.

And, yes, Alcina had known- still knew, that she had Miranda and her siblings, but sometimes they were not enough, not back then, not when she was filled with so much shame and self-hatred and disgust. Animals were different in a way people couldn’t be. Animals didn’t lie, they didn’t judge or think about how messed up you were in their heads. They didn’t share your secrets or give you false hope. They just--be there. They listened and lent their presence and, sometimes, that was all that was needed, and some people didn’t seem to understand that.

Tea Cake’s fur had dried more of Alcina’s tears than anyone else ever had because she never let them fall in front of others. Tea Cake didn’t get upset when Alcina touched her; she didn’t understand the concept of emotional trauma and sexual harassment and body image issues. She just cared, even if she didn’t quite get it.

Alcina would probably be dead if it weren’t for her.

Yes, she remembered that fateful night… The wind in her shaggy hair she hadn’t washed in days, the moonglow on her ashen skin, the tears burning in her eyes--all of it was so clear, even now. She remembered how horribly, hopelessly depressed she had been and how she drove out to a field with a note on the dashboard and a gun in the passenger seat.

At the time, nothing had helped her. Her antidepressants weren’t working, going out only made her feel unsafe, and her family’s presence no longer brought her comfort and happiness, rather guilt and shame. The only thing that ever helped was when she drowned herself in the alcohol she made for a living, drinking away her despair and trauma until her body tingled and the phantom hands went away. She was surprised her liver never exploded inside of her during those awful few months.

She had sat in her car for a while, leaning her head on the steering wheel and wallowing in silence and darkness. Then, she got out, made sure the note was visible, and grabbed the gun.

She considered calling or texting her mother and siblings, but that would make it hurt worse. It was better to leave them with their last memories of her than to have this sudden news of a goodbye that they wouldn’t be able to stop.

She placed the pistol’s barrel in her mouth and rested her finger on the trigger. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes like some movies or books say it did, and she was quite thankful for it. She didn’t want to relive the agony she had been put through that led her up to that point. She just shut her eyes as tight as possible in preparation for the bullet to pass through her brain…

Then, there was a rustling from the grass nearby.

Alcina hesitated. The metallic taste of the gun left her tongue and she looked in the direction of the noise.

“Hello?” she had called out in her best possible not-about-to-kill-herself voice.

A tiny meow answered her.

“Your roadkill wants you,” Heisenberg’s voice cut through the daze that had momentarily descended upon Alcina’s mind.

Blinking, Alcina realized that Tea Cake was gnawing on her finger and meowing. She smiled.

“It’s probably dinner time,” Alcina said. She stood up straight. “Come on, children. I have news to share.”

Curious, her three younger siblings followed her out of the room and to her kitchen, Tea Cake padding after them eagerly. Her house was a beautiful creation of the finest wood and the most luxurious stonework. Top-of-the-line appliances filled the space and every little detail, down to the hanging droplets on the chandelier and the grooves in the staircase railing, were customized to her preference. 6 bedrooms, 9 bathrooms, 17,182 square feet, 14.99 acres filled by lush vineyards, and $5,500,000 later, and you had the Dimitrescu Estate.

And it was a barren prison.

It had always been there, ever since she moved in: that lingering loneliness that seemed to shroud every hallway. She had so much space, but nobody to fill it. Nobody except herself, Tea Cake, and her maids, of course. Lying awake one night, thinking about this issue as she often did, a solution had finally come to her.

After pouring some wet food into Tea Cake’s food bowl, Alcina grabbed a bottle of sweet butter wine out of her wine fridge and poured a glass for herself and each of her siblings, all of which were staring at her curiously. After taking a long sip, she finally began: “As you all know, I have plans to foster a child. And I greatly appreciate all of the support you three have provided me up until now.”

“Is this an award ceremony or something?” Heisenberg joked light-heartedly. “Can I have the award for most boxes carried? I think I deserve that one.”

“You mean most boxes dropped?” Donna giggled, earning her a playful poke in the side.

“No, it is not an award ceremony,” Alcina glared at Heisenberg without any fire in her gaze. She opened up a drawer in the stainless kitchen island they were gathered around. “Though, this may very well be an award…” She pulled out a blue folder packed full of papers and set it on the marble countertop, grinning brightly. “I just wanted to let you all know first that my training is done. I’ve completed all the classes.” Her heart swelled in her heart as she spoke her next words: “I’m a foster mom now.”

All at once, her younger siblings lit up brighter than the sun’s supernova, throwing their arms up into the air and letting out a celebratory shout. Donna and Moreau even raced around the island to hug Alcina, which she returned with a laugh.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Alcina!” Donna said, squeezing her with surprising strength. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too,” Moreau agreed.

“Sal, are you crying?”

“No!” Moreau yelped, then sniffled. “I just have something in my eye, that’s all.”

“You mean tears?” Heisenberg teased. He then looked at Alcina. “That’s amazing, Alcina. I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.”

“Aww,” Alcina crooned. “Is my little brother going soft?”

Heisenberg instantly steeled himself. “Me? No way! I was just saying what you would want to hear.”

Still being embraced on either side by her other brother and sister, Alcina chuckled. “I see.”

“Do you know your placement yet?” Donna asked, looking up at Alcina as though she were a child again.

“Placements,” Alcina corrected. She couldn’t help but grin again as she spoke of her future children. “Two. I’m getting two little girls.”

“Aww!” Donna and Moreau both cooed.

Heisenberg was nodding. “Girls. Yes. I can do girls.” He looked up at Alcina. “I’m getting them a puppy.”

“Oh, you don’t have--”

“I’m getting them a puppy,” Heisenberg said again, and it was clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Alcina chuckled. “Alright. A puppy it is.”

Donna and Moreau began to join in on plans for being the greatest aunt and uncle, with Moreau saying that they needed to come to his lake for a swim and Donna listing off all the toys she would make for them. Alcina listened to them with a fond smile, happy to have such a supportive family. This was exactly what her daughters were going to need.

Daughters.

Just thinking about that word made her heart flutter in her chest. Her grin turned giddy. She was going to be a mother soon.

As she sipped from her wine glass, she thought about her placements. She had gotten the call four days ago and was scheduled to meet the little ones in the next two weeks. She could still hear her caseworker’s words in her ears during the conversation as she recalled it to her siblings.

“The first is named Daniela,” Duke had said. He was a studious, patient man with a warm smile and hands like chipmunk paws, keen on helping Alcina ever since she started her training to become a foster parent six months ago. “She’s a little girl and eleven years old. Her parents have, unfortunately, recently died due to a car crash. Her living relatives are unfit to take care of her, so she’s been placed into the foster system. Right now, she’s staying with her aunt and uncle, but she cannot be kept there much longer because of, ah…jealousy issues with their actual child.

The second is named Cassandra. Another girl, this one twelve years old. She’s been in the foster program ever since she was a baby when she was given up, as she was born from a teenager who couldn’t take care of her. She’s had…quite a few foster homes, all of which had given her up to someone else due to…issues. I understand if you don’t want to take this child. She’s been known to cause problems in her houses and pick fights. There is-- woo, that’s a lot of complaints… There are some notes on her left by her former families and-- Goddamn. They’re writing of her like she’s a monster or something…”

“Of course, I couldn’t turn down either of them,” Alcina concluded her retelling. “Especially the second one. Cassandra. The poor thing sounds like she needs a good home.”

“You’re so sweet, Alci,” Donna said, smiling at her.

“Think you can handle it?” Heisenberg asked. “I’m not doubting your abilities, but from what you said about the kid… Well, she just sounds difficult.”

“You were difficult,” Alcina said, grinning at him. “And everything turned out just fine, didn’t it?”

Her youngest brother’s concern didn’t diminish. “Yes, but… I don’t want anything to happen to you or my niece.”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all cooed. Heisenberg huffed.

“Oh, shut it! I have a heart!”

“You do,” Alcina’s smile lightened slightly. “But don’t worry: everything will be okay. I can do this. I need to do this. Those two little girls need a mother.”

Heisenberg considered her for a moment, then nodded. He smiled at her. “You’ve got a good heart, Alcina,” he said. “If you ever need any help, I’m here.”

“Me too!” Donna joined in.

“Me three!” Moreau piped up.

Alcina laughed. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot to me. Now…” She raised her glass. “Let’s drink before we have to cut back because there will be children around!”

Her siblings laughed and mimicked her gesture.

Alcina couldn’t wait.

[sabraeal]

Consider: Obi is green-red color blind

A Color by Any Other Name

Written for @aeroplaneblues for a surprise birthday gift! Many months ago she mentioned wanted to see a colorblind Obi, and I said, WELL WHAT A GOOD EXCUSE TO WRITE THIS PROMPT JOANNA GAVE ME. I hope your birthday is a good one, filled with a lot more nice surprises!

“Are you ever going to introduce me to your guard friends?” Suzu asks around a mouthful of dumpling. “Or are you embarrassed?”

To say Obi is unprepared, would be an understatement; there’s a pork bun lodged between his teeth, his gloves not only coated in pig grease but also far less effective against steam than he’d thought they’d be back when he’d just grabbed a plump little blob off the stall. He’d laughed off Suzu’s concerns about protective equipment; after all, if smiths use leather gloves, they’ve got to be just as good as an oven mitt.

They aren’t. Not to mention the roof of his mouth starting to have a real good think about peeling off and having a vacation. Maybe even with someone who doesn’t eat entire dumplings straight from the basket.

“Wha?” he manages eloquently, nearly drooling spicy meat drippings onto the street.

“I know I’m not cool like they are,” Suzu continues, warming to his new thesis. If his sudden flush of confidence is any measure, he’s spent more of time composing his arguments for this than Obi’s ever seen him work on his actual defense. “And I’m no good with a sword. Or fists. Or really any implement that isn’t a scalpel, and any opponent that isn’t already anesthetized. But I am very smart.”

There’s a thoughtful pause before Suzu adds, “Some people do enjoy that, you know.”

What Obi knows is that this kid tried this conversation on for size in front of Yuzuri, and she didn’t even bother to warn him as a courtesy. See if he buys her any more meat-on-sticks when she’s ‘left her purse in the lab’ now.

“That’s not--” he takes a hurried minute to swallow-- “not what’s happening. I didn’t...”

Even know you knew I didn’t work for the pharmacy. His teeth clamp shut around that winner, and its friend, I didn’t think you lot would want to hang out with a bunch of men without degrees. Not only would that encourage Suzu to make a scene right here, right now, but if it got back to Jirou-- well, if he thought Suzu could turn any day into a disaster, the lieutenant would make that seem like a vacation.

“I didn’t think you wanted to,” he settles on instead. Similar enough in feel, if...creatively edited. “You scholar types tend to flock together.”

“Well, sure,” Suzu murmurs, stymied, “but we’re friends too, aren’t we? If all my friends are your friends, then all your friends should be my friends.”

Only an academic could talk about arithmetic with that amount of confidence, especially the kind that involved transitive properties and letters, and all sorts of things that made Obi’s head spin.

“Well,” he hums, one boot scratching his calf. “You would know.”

Suzu whirls on him, staring down his long fox-snout of a nose. “You mean it? You’ll really...?”

“Sure. If that’s what you want.” He twitches his shoulders, more casual than he feels. “It’s fine if it’s you.”

There’s always been a lazy lilt to Suzu’s eyes, but it disappears now, all the sleepiness gone to surprise. “Me? You wouldn’t want to bring anyone else?”

“Well, definitely not Kazaha.” The glares he’d get bringing that twiggy pedant into the guardhouse might be enough to drop him dead on the spot. “And Yuzuri would be too popular.”

Suzu grimaces. “The number of admirers she’d get from a wink alone...she’d be unlivable.”

He can see it now, her ponytail bobbing with a buoyant glee, giggling through every painstaking penned line from her fan club-- “Think of all the bad poetry.”

“Honestly, that might make it worth it. At least I’ll feel better about not knowing the difference between a quartet and a quatrain.” Suzu takes a thoughtful bite of him bun. “And you couldn’t bring Shirayuki, of course.”

“Right.” Not a one of them could be trusted to keep their lips sealed; she’d hardly have to take a breath and someone would call her Obi’s lady, or ask how they met, or whether she’s still Mistress behind closed doors--

But Suzu wouldn’t know any of that. “Wait, why?”

“Well...” He has the grace to look chagrined about it, whatever it is. “You know. Her hair...?”

“Oh.” Obi shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

“You guess?” Suzu stares. “Shirayuki has a non-zero amount of stories about being kidnapped for looking like a candied apple, and you guess there might be a fuss about bringing her ‘round to the guardhouse?”

“Well, none of you acted weird about it,” he snips, hiding his annoyance behind a bite of dumpling. “There’s no reason they will.”

“Of course no one at Lilias acted weird, Obi!” he squawks, arms flailing as he talks. “You couldn’t pay them to look at anything but their own project. But when a bunch of normal men with eyes and, uh, other working appendages see a cute girl with red hair and a soft voice, they’re gonna go crazy!”

His palm hooks around his shoulder, thumb digging into the hard knot at his collarbone. “Aw, come on. It’s not that special.”

“Not that--?” Suzu whips around, eyes round as dumplings. “Obi, she’s the only person I’ve ever seen with red hair.”

“You don’t get out much,” Obi deadpans. “No offense.”

“That’s not--” Suzu grunts, throwing up his hands-- “She’s the only person anyone’s ever seen with red hair!”

“Her dad’s is kind of red.” That observation wins him an unimpressed look, one that says you’re missing the point. “And Yuzuri had blue hair when I met her. That’s way more interesting--”

“It was dyed!” Suzu wobbles over to a wall, sitting with his head in his hands. “Shirayuki has a hair color so rare that the birth records in Clarines haven’t noted it in more than fifty years! And you think Yuzuri dying her hair with woad is more impressive.”

“Well, even her natural color is brighter than Miss’s. Not--” he waves a hand between them, quelling-- “that Miss’s hair isn’t nice enough. But I’d think that people would pay more attention to that.”

“...Brighter?” Suzu murmurs after a long moment, stilted. “Obi, could you tell me what color that sign is, right over there?”

“The one for the tea shop?” He wrinkles his nose. “Why--?”

“Just...indulge me for a moment.”

“All right.” He squints up at the moon cresting over a wolf’s head. “Blue.”

“Right, and, um, that coat over there.”

“Yellow.”

“Right.” Suzu’s voice is tight, stressed. “And what I’m wearing?”

Obi squints. This one’s a little harder, but he’s confident when he says, “Green.”

“Ah, right.” Suzu stands, a unsteady on his feet. “That would explain that, then.”

Obi blinks. “Explain what?”

“Obi,” Suzu begins, with all the gravitas of both a grim prognosis and a terrible joke. “You can’t see colors.”

*

It’s not the first time Obi’s played hound to his prey’s fox, but there’s something distinctly unsettling about it being Suzu that leaves him lagging behind, unsure of himself. Especially with the way he scurries through the concourse, bounding toward the mess hall with this idea caught between his teeth like chicken feathers.

“I can see colors just fine,” Obi informs him with far less confidence than he’d like. “Some of them are just hard to tell apart. Weren’t you and Yuzuri arguing yesterday about whether salmon is orange or pink?”

Suzu waves a hand at him, dismissive. “That’s different. Salmon’s both orange and pink, and what color it looks most like has to do with the composition of your eye-- and it’s pink by the way, with orange undertones--”

Between the two of them, Obi knows who he’d trust to know their colors. “Uh-huh.”

“You can’t make out red and green, which is different entirely, and--” the doors to the mess burst open beneath his hands, a noise lost in the din of a hundred scholars trying to share the same table-- “YOU GUYS WON’T BELIEVE WHAT I JUST FOUND.”

The whole of Shidan’s lab-- minus the man himself-- have taken up right by the door, bags and coats piled to save them their places on the bench. Suzu makes short work of the pile on his seat, haphazardly shoving them to the floor as he sits.

Kazaha peers at him and ventures mildly, “A new way to avoid finishing your thesis?”

“No,” Suzu hums between his grit teeth, “but I have found out--”

“I don’t think we need to do this,” Obi murmurs, handing Miss her muffler. “It’s not--”

“Obi,” he intones with far more gravitas than his name has ever strictly deserved, “can’t see colors.”

“Not at all?” Kazaha turns those sharp eyes to him, like he’s a specimen under glass. “Just black and white?”

“I can see just fine,” Obi huffs, tossing Yuzuri her coat before he slides onto the bench, knee knocking into Miss’s in a way that puts his heart through its paces. “Suzu is just making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“Is that so?” he hums with a grin. “Then what color is Shirayuki’s hair?”

He stifles a sigh. It’s best to put all this to bed now, before he’s stuck playing what’s this color for the next two years. “Red.”

“What’s the point of this?” Yuzuri yawns, already bored. Obi shoots her a grateful look, glad that at least one of them isn’t going to play Suzu’s game.

It’s too bad he’s already puffed up with unearned confidence, like an evolutionist at a botany lecture. “And what’s the color of Ryuu’s cloak?”

He knows it by heart-- how could he not, when the two most important people in this city wear matching ones-- but still Obi glances up, anticipating a trick. Ryuu stares back, confused and guileless. “Blue.”

“Great, good.” Suzu’s grin stretches from ear to ear. “Now what color is your scarf?”

Obi’s fingers knot in the fabric, the weft tickling the pads of his fingers. “Well, it’s...sort of reddish, isn’t it?”

This is the wrong answer.

“It makes so much sense,” Yuzuri murmurs in wonder. “You really don’t know how ugly Suzu’s outfits are. That’s why you still hang out with him.”

“Hey!” Suzu pouts. “That’s not very nice.”

“No, that has nothing to do with color, it’s the cut.” Anxiety spikes through him. “But wait, it is red isn’t it? My scarf?”

“No,” Miss murmurs at his side, cheeks flushes. “Obi, it’s...it’s green.”

He stares down at it, trying to imagine what that might look like. “Green.”

“It looks very nice on you!” Her small fingers wrapping in the fur at his elbow. “It’s your color, really.”

“Oh, sure,” he murmurs, faint. “I guess it matches my eyes.”

“Hey, what do you mean ‘it has nothing to do with the color?’“ Suzu’s hands fly to his hips, brows drawn tight over the long line of his nose. “My clothes are just fine.”

“They aren’t.” Obi leans in next to him, grin feeling thinner than it should. “But I hang out with you anyway, which means you know we’re really friends.”

Kazaha rubs at his chin, where his ode to Shidan’s goatee is failing to thrive. “You know what this also explains?”

Obi blinks. “What?”

“All the black.”

It’s not Kazaha that says it, oh no. That would be too merciful for a mortifying moment out of his life. Instead it’s low and feminine, and when Miss Kiki leans out from the other side of Miss, it’s like a siren emerging from the depths, teeth bared to tear a man to shreds. “What an interesting thing I’ve learned today.”

“Miss Kiki! How--?” He gulps. “Why--?”

“I came to deliver a message from Wirant,” she drawls, too pleased. “And it seems I’ve earned myself a fine tip.”

“No,” he breathes. “You can’t-- you’re not going to tell Master, are you? Or Sir?”

“Oh,” she hums, looking particularly hungry for manflesh. “I certainly will.”

*

“Oh, there there.” Miss pats his back, the sensation lost among the dozen layers of clothing between them. “I’m sure Kiki won’t tell them, not until you’re ready! You asked her not to.”

“I think that just means,” Obi mutters, voice muffled by his arms and the wall he’s throwing himself over, “that she’ll just enjoy telling them more.”

“Ah...” He doesn’t need to see her to know her grimace. “Yes, that’s...probably right.”

He lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh. It helps a little. So does a bit of flailing.

“They won’t make a big deal out of it,” Miss says, changing tack. “It hardly changes anything! I’m sure they’ll just forget as soon as she tells them.”

He peeps one eye over his elbow. “That’s easy for you to say, you haven’t spent the last half an hour playing What’s That Color.”

“Well,” she wheedles, “they are scholars.”

Obi groans, loud and long, which doesn’t help; but it echoes out over the rooftops, returning back to him, which does.

“How...?”

Miss hesitates, a gloved finger pressed to her lips. He sighs, already braced for the onslaught-- how didn’t you know? how did you go so long without knowing your colors? how do you find people if you can’t even tell what hair color they have--?

“How did you notice?”

Obi lifts his head, unblinking. “What?”

“How did you notice?” Miss repeats, more firmly this time. “You’ve spent your whole life this way, haven’t you? It must have taken something really special to realize there was more than what you see.”

“Uh.” It’s nice that it’s darker here, that it’s cold. He has perfect legitimate reasons to be flushed. “Well, it was Suzu really. He mentioned that--” his teeth clamp down around his words, not letting them out without a hasty edit-- “that people think your hair’s pretty special, and I said I didn’t get why...”

Miss stiffens beside him, a statue that breathes, and he hastily adds, “Not that you aren’t special, Miss. It’s just, the red...”

“Right.” The words comes out stilted, strange. “You can’t see it. You actually...haven’t ever seen it.”

A silence settles on them like a wool blanket; not one of those nice ones at the castle, or the fleecy ones Miss stockpiles like one day the North might run out of sheep, but the itchy, coarse-woven ones of his childhood. Uncomfortable and smelling faintly of animal.

“So,” he coughs, fixing his gaze out over the city. “What did Kiki want?”

“Oh...” Miss shifts, mouth pulling into a guilty grimace. “She came to tell me that the Queen Dowager has invited me to dinner. Tomorrow night.”

His brows raise. “Well, well.”

“Don’t,” she murmurs, head giving the barest shake. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” He shouldn’t press, but if he doesn’t, no one else will. “After you told Master--”

“I told him a list of reasons why I thought I would be a better ally as a friend, and not as a...” Miss loses steam, letting her words sigh into the air. “I’d like to believe this has to do with my work with Phostyrias.”

He watches her, careful. “But do you?”

“I don’t know,” she says, which is as good as any no.

*

Obi’s barely stepped into the Protector’s solar when Master asks, “What color is my jacket?”

His head swivels, delivering a glare so flat carpets would be jealous. Miss Kiki only hums, shoulder lifting in a disinterested shrug. “I said I was going to tell them.”

Fair enough.

“It’s blue,” he deadpans, flopping onto the cushiest divan. He’s too long for it, his boots spilling off one arm a idling over the floor. “Apparently I can see that one just fine.”

According to Miss, at least; she’d unearthed a slip of a book from the university’s library, outlining the limits of his sight. Little Ryuu had pored over it for a day before showing up at his door, flushed faced and nervous.

Garrack always told me I had nice eyes, he’d admitted, lingering at the threshold. I was hoping you could see them.

Cross as he is about the whole thing, Obi can’t regret that. He might not have Miss’s hair, or Suzu’s coat-- thankfully-- but Ryuu’s eyes would always look true to him.

“But not red.” Master’s mouth twitches, far too entertained. “Or green.”

“I do see them,” he protests. “They just...don’t look very different to me.”

Just another shade of yellow and brown, if those books are right. Which they are, since he’d always thought so. Subtly different, like the way Suzu and Yuzuri fought over salmon, or Master and Miss Kiki would dither over chartreuse. Just enough that he’d been able to eke by on keeping his mouth shut and a fondness for black.

Still, there’s nothing worse than finding out something new about yourself this late in the game. Especially when--

“What about the curtains?” Master inquires. “Can you see those?”

--Especially when it’s so endlessly entertaining to everyone else. “I can see them,” he grumbles, sinking further into the cushions. “Just because I can’t see some colors doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

“Then what about the note?”

Obi rolls his gaze to where Sir perches at his desk. “Huh?”

“To our red-haired guest.” Sir coughs, a flush working its way up his neck. “It’s just-- you wrote that.”

“Oh, His Grace told me that one.” A lifetime ago, it seemed. “‘The red-haired girl, you’ll know her when you see her, I’m sure.’“

Master winces. Obi can admit his talent doesn’t lie with impressions, especially ones of dour old men.

“Right,” Sir presses, voice oddly tight. “But you don’t see-- I mean, how could you find a girl that looks just like everyone else?”

“Ah...” He grimaces, scrubbing at the top of his head. “Well, I just looked for the girl who didn’t belong. It--” he hesitates, suddenly aware of Master’s eyes on him-- “didn’t take very long.”

Master’s frown belongs above one of those prie-dieu, to remind penitents that forgiveness isn’t absolute. “What is that supposed to--?”

“So what does she look like?” No one could say that after a decade of dedication, Miss Kiki doesn’t know how to do her job; she deflects Master’s brewing sour mood with the ease of a professional. “What does her hair look like to you?”

“Uh.” He clears his throat, tugging at his collar. “I wasn’t lying when I said I bought my scarf to match...”

There is a stillness to the room that is too much, too pitiful. Much as he hated it, Obi would much rather be a joke than a charity case.

“Huh,” Sir grunts, gaze still fixed to his neck. “Now I wonder what we all look like to you.”

“Well, I sort of wonder what you all look like to yourselves.” Obi let a sigh float wistfully through his lips. “At least I know that me and Miss still have the same eyes.”

There’s silence again, but this one buzzes, filled with words no one dares to say.

“What?” he laughs, nervous, pulling himself upright. “Don’t we?”

Sir grimaces. “Ah, Obi...”

*

Miss is quiet when they walk the walls home that night, the winter stillness making the silence and heavy as any drift. Her mouth is pursed, not with anything like anger, but something closer to consideration. As if there’s words back there she’s sorting through, trying to compose a thought that just won’t come.

Well, she should know: she won’t get anywhere if she doesn’t air a few of them out to look at. “Something wrong, Miss?”

She blinks, shaken out from wherever she gone away. Her mind palace, maybe. Suzu’d told him about those once, with busts and painting and curtained alcoves. What she’d do with a place like that, he couldn’t imagine, but if anyone asked, he’d put his money on hers having apothecary drawers instead, and gardens too. The kind with half crumbled walls, ivies curled around every stone. Cluttered desks piled high with books, and one of them with curtain drawn to let its owner nap the afternoon away.

“Oh,” she breathes, finally. “No, no. Nothing’s, um, wrong. I was just...thinking.”

He lifts a knowing brow. “So something is wrong.”

“That’s not what I said,” she informs him, primly. “I was going over my meeting with Haruto, and...”

Her lips snap shut around the words, distress narrowing her eyes. “And...?”

“She didn’t know about my work,” Miss huffs, arms wrapping tight around her chest. “Or, she did, but only what Zen had told her. Which...”

Was far less than the whole of it. He’d heard that part of her argument that night, try as he might not to. “So she invited you as Zen’s ally?”

“No.” The word is colder than any he’s ever heard fall from her lips. “That I wouldn’t mind-- I’m still trying to be his ally, after all, and if she saw me as an asset...” She shook her head. “No, she wanted to meet his...paramour, even if she didn’t say as much.”

Obi grimaces.

“And even that wouldn’t be so bad if...” Miss took a deep, steeling breath. “When I came in, after all the curtsies and pleasantries, she said, your hair is just as red as he said it was.” Her knuckles are white where they wrap around her elbows. “All those years, all those letters, and the only thing he thinks to tell his mother is that my hair...”

The rest is lost in a sigh, a cloud of mist swirling off the wall.

“It must really be something,” Obi deadpans, gaze following it off the edge. “Since it makes all these people forget how smart you are.”

She’s watching him; he can feel it as she sidles up to where he stands, hands unclenching from her arms and splaying on the crenellations instead. “Obi, you really can’t...?”

Miss hesitates, falls silent. He lets her; she’s put enough words in the air to sort through, and now all she needs is time. Obi’s happy to give it to her.

Especially since there’s a rabbit down there in the dark. A small one, moving slow, hind legs churning like clockwork winding up. It’s nose digs into the snow, snuffling around, searching--

“Can you really see better?” Miss asks, startling him back to the wall. “In the dark, I mean. That book said you could.”

“Well, after the past couple days, I’m a little shaky on what’s normal.” He jerks his chin over the edge. “Can you see the rabbit down there? Right by that sapling?”

She blinks, pressing in close. “The what? It’s just...dark out there.”

“Well,” he says, grin tight on his lips. “There’s your answer.”

Miss settles back on her heels, one hand already cupping her chin. “It makes sense. Without the distraction of color, your movement tracking must be much more acute...”

Obi only half-manages to stifle a laugh. “Seems like it definitely distracts everyone else.”

Miss goes quiet; almost too quiet, enough to make his teeth sit on edge. The seconds tick by, and Obi might play at patience, but it’s not in his nature. He glances down, just from the corners of his eyes, but Miss is already watching him, eyes strangely shuttered.

“Obi,” she says, so clear his name rings in his ears. “You don’t...? My hair, it’s not...” Her mouth works, quiet, before she manages, “It’s not anything to you?”

Anything special, she means. Because that’s what he said so stupidly last night, nothing special.

She’d tied it up tonight, finagling the strange looping knots that were partial to the queen’s court, but already some of it’s worn loose, slipping from its pins. “It is,” he murmurs. “I like it.”

She huffs, unimpressed. “But you can’t see it, not really.”

“Of course I can see it,” he laughs, weary. “Maybe not the color, but that’s fine. I like it because it’s yours.”

She ducks her head, and Obi might not be good at colors, but he can see her cheeks flush in the lamplight.

“Miss.” Her gaze lifts to his, no longer shuttered, just full. “Can I ask you something?”

Her breath catches. “Anything.”

“Be straight with me,” he pleads. “We do have the same eye color right?”

*

“Obi!” Miss‘s laughter bubbles bright with betrayal as she hops down the stairs after him. “Obi, please--”

“Let me grieve, Miss,” he grumbles, hands shoved in his pockets. “I’ve been a real champ about the rest, but let me have this.”

“Obi!” She catches him round the wrist, mouth twitching as she turns to him. “Is it really so bad that they’re gold?”

“No,” he mutters sullenly, shoulders slumped enough that with two stairs between them, they’re nearly the same height. “It’s just...”

Her eyes flutter wide with curiosity. “Just...?”

“It’s fine enough that they’re unique.” He spits the word with more venom than it deserves. “I just I wanted this one thing in common.”

“In common?” Miss blinks. “You mean, me and...?”

Obi would lay down his life for his mistress, but even she can’t ask him to do this, to lay down his pride for her to walk on.

“Oh!” She flusters, limbs fluttering in the air between them. He’s half-tempted to turn away again, but she grabs his face and holds him steady, her cold, slender fingers caught behind his jaw. “Just-- just one moment...”

“Miss?” he wheezes. This is entirely too close, too much--

“Yes!” He breath flutters over his lips, her own parting in a celebration of teeth. “That’s it. I see it. There’s a little, right there.”

He blinks. “A little what, Miss?”

Her teeth flash around the word, “Green.”

It’s cruel to throw a starving dog a bone, but he snaps it up anyway, heart nearly clogging up his throat with hope. “D’you mean it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Really,” she promises, her nod serious and officious as any she might give Little Ryuu. “There’s a thread, right around the middle. Green. Just like mine.”

“Oh.” His own hands raise, leather muting the feel of her skin, but-- Master always told him about the red thread that bound him and Miss together, that drew them toward their fated meeting, but this-- Obi will take this too. “Thank you, Miss.”

She smiles, eyes shining bright in the lamplight. “No, Obi, it’s my pleasure.”

Not much different between green and red to him, anyway.

[trentaafcsblog]

Take Your Daddy To School Day

Trent Alexander-Arnold

This is my entry for the lovely @footballffbarbiex’s writing challenge 🤍 thank you so much for letting me take part, I hope you all enjoy it and please go and have a look if it’s something that you might be interested in - there’s some lovely prompts still to choose from x

It’s been a good what...seventeen, maybe eighteen, years since Trent was sat on the yellow table in the Hedgehogs Class? The classroom still has exactly the same name and layout as it did when he was there all those years ago. The same blue felt tip stain on the bottom of one of the walls from where the boy in the year above ‘accidentally’ wrote his name in his four-year-old squiggly handwriting, and the water tray still being full of the same plastic dinosaurs that he used to chase his friends with when it was time for creative play. The name pegs by the front windows are still where they used to be too. Teeny tiny wooden hedgehogs glued above the multicoloured hooks, a white label stuck beneath them with all of the children’s names on. And obviously your little girl’s coat and bag hang on the first peg, just like Trent’s used to, because they’re ordered alphabetically, a wave of nostalgia hitting him because he used to love hanging his belongings there as it meant he was the first to leave at the end of the day - and it just so happens that your little girl has also picked up on her daddy’s habits when it comes to wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Put your knees under the table, daddy” she’s tutting as T does everything he can to squash them under the yellow-topped desk without accidentally flipping it and sending the pot of scissors, glue sticks and blunt pencils across the room. His cheeks turning a dark shade of pink when your little girl’s teacher spots him shuffling around awkwardly and trying to disguise the fact that he’s in absolute agony, only intensifying when your daughter insists on pointing out daddy’s ‘raspberry face’ to the little boy sat on the table behind. But eventually he’s managing to do it, although the little plastic chair he’s sat on is now threatening to collapse, the metal legs bowing slightly each time he leans more to one side to help your little girl with her work or has to turn around when one of the children gasps and points before not so quietly whispering ‘that’s the man that kicks a football’.

“Daddy, you can do this one” she’s announcing as they plough their way through the worksheet they’ve been given to complete by lunchtime. “But I’ve just done all of these ones” he’s giggling as he points to the group of maths questions he’s just answered because he knows your little girl struggles with her numbers and he’s too soft to let her sit and find the answer on her own. “But you’re cleverer than me” she smiles, hoping that her compliment persuades Trent to write the answer down, not that he needs any sort of persuasion because he’s already scribbling down the answer, but she’s already picked up on the fact that if you’re nice to people, they’ll be nice to you - something she definitely uses to her advantage. 

They’re both managing to finish the work before the bell rings for lunch, a miracle really since they've been interrupted every two minutes by one of other dads having a fangirl moment or one of the mums trying their best to impress Trent with their very limited football knowledge, obviously hoping that he’s blown away by it and runs off into the sunset with them. But regardless, they’re getting it done in time and heading off to the lunch hall together hand in hand. Trent carrying both of their lunch boxes and politely waving to the screaming children in the classrooms they walk past, your little girl still too innocent to understand why daddy attracts so much attention, hence the string of ‘why are they shouting at yous?’ as they make their way into the dining hall.

They’re sitting opposite each other on one of the collapsible tables with little blue seats. The smell of whatever unappetising it is being served for lunch filling their noses and making Trent feel quite sick, acting as a reminder as to why he refused to eat school dinners and instead stuck to his cream cheese sandwiches that were wrapped up in his Spider-Man lunch box. “Cheers” your little girl’s giggling as she smashes her jam sandwich against Trent’s tuna one, both of them cut into tiny little squares which T had begged you not to do, but it’s not really a ‘take your dad to school day’ if he doesn’t eat the same as the children, is it? Which is exactly why the Liverpool shirt shaped lunch box he picked up from the club shop on the way home from training the other night is full of a packet of Mini Cheddars, a strawberry Frube yoghurt (even though he tried to pretend that he didn’t like them), two tangerines to try and balance out the sugar in the Mr Kipling angel cake, and a Capri Sun which he has no shame in admitting that he absolutely loves. 

Their twenty minute playtime afterwards is consisting of Trent taking on the rest of the school in a football match, but obviously it’s not cool to be seen playing football with your dad in front of all of your friends, hence why your little girl is deciding to engage in a very in-depth discussion about last night’s episode of Peppa Pig instead, occasionally turning around to see if T’s still winning, which obviously he is, despite having about a hundred children slide tackling into him and pulling his shirt. “Are you not proud of me?” he’s saying jokingly as he makes his way off the pitch and over to your baby girl who’s pretending that she can’t see Trent leaping around in front of all of her friends, all because he beat a bunch of five year olds at his own job. “Daddy, stop!” she’s giggling, grateful for the few curls around the edge of her face that mask her blushing cheeks because seeing your daddy show everyone up is one thing, but now having him flexing about it is another. 

They’re making their way back to the Hedgehogs Class when the bell rings to signal the end of lunchtime. A few parents leaping in front of the two of them on the way to congratulate Trent on his most recent performances and awards, causing even more confusion for your little girl because since when has the whole world known about daddy and his job? And why is Jacob’s mummy, who always causes a scene in the playground when she sees someone wearing a football shirt because it’s ‘tacky’ and ‘the most pathetic sport’, suddenly so interested in a game that she tells everyone she hates? Or is she just interested in Trent? Who knows.

The two of them are spending the rest of the day doing creative play, flicking between playing with the dinosaurs in the water table, to making you a card for no other reason than because they love you, to creating one another out of red and yellow PlayDoh - something Trent won’t be doing again because he’s convinced himself that he looks like the slightly disfigured model that your daughter has made - one foot three times the size of the other, an unfortunate bulge on the top of his head, and arms that are extremely long and skinny. And his doubts aren’t going away because your little girl keeps reinforcing the fact that ‘it’s you, daddy’, much to the amusement of all of the other parents who giggle away at how disappointed and awkward he looks after being compared to crusty piece of five-year-old PlayDoh.

“I had fun with you being a big boy at school today” she’s saying as she walks hand in hand with Trent over to her peg, his dad instinct coming out as he helps her put her coat on and pack her book bag. “Did you?” he’s asking, his heart melting into a puddle when she nods her head and gives him a little smile. “I had so much fun too, even if you did splash me at the water table” he’s saying, tickling her sides and making her giggle at the memory of the plastic dinosaur ‘accidentally’ dropping from above her head right into the water in front of him. “Shall we go and tell mummy about today then?” he’s saying as he reaches down and takes her hand in his before the two of them are stepping out into the playground together, your little girl bursting with excitement ready to tell you all about their day and how Trent now has a gold star stuck on the wall for being the ‘cleverest at knowing all of the dinosaurs’ names’.

[shushiyuii]

Subject R4NB00 and Subject T3CHN0 (Part 3 of Subject T0M Au)

AAAAAA Part 3! I Hope you guy’s enjoy Phil’s story!

Warnings: Fighting (It’s a misunderstanding) and mentions of fearplay

Words: 1.3K

Document – Subject R4NB00 and Subject T3CHN0

Assigned to: Doctor Philza Watson (High standing)

R4NB00 is a tall humanoid standing above 8 ft tall. They have a black and white fur coat, a thin fur coat to be described as silky. Their coat is black on one side and white on the other, their hair is the same but in the opposite way to his fur.

They have heterochromia in their eyes, one being green and the other a bright red. They also have horns of small height; they aren’t sharp and rather small so they wouldn’t hurt anybody with them. They also have a thin tail, with it being fluffy at the end.

Subject R4NB00 isn’t the biggest fan of the regular attire assigned to all subjects, they rather wear a tuxedo embedded with the facility’s logos. They are also timid, avoiding conflict whenever possible. They also can speak but prefer not to due to being shy, they will only communicate with a select few.

Their abilities consist of having the ability to teleport at will and communicate in an unknown language. They also have weaknesses being unable to touch the water and having a state of mind of when they aren’t in control of themselves, they talk in their unknown language in this state and teleport randomly, they are to be awoken as soon as possible unless they are in this state for a test.

 Subject T3CHN0, also known as Technoblade or the Blood God. Standing above 3 metres tall. Subject T3CHN0 is boar-like in appearance with tusks, muscular build, pig-like ears, tail, and claws.

He has pink coloured fur with a texture akin to one of silky and soft. Subject T3CHN0 wears the facilities uniform.

At first, Subject T3CHN0 may appear aggressive, dangerous, and monotone. And that is true to an extent, with regards to rumours and incidents including Subject T3CHN0 a majority of what happened were either with caution or happened with some sort of reasoning important to the subject, they do not normally breach containment.

Subject T3CHN0 is approachable whilst being aggressive, he wouldn’t harm anyone, he’s saved several lives, to many Subject T3CHN0 is a hero.

Subject T3CHN0 abilities consist of being able to handle harsh temperatures and brute strength, easily breaking through walls and lifting cars. He is also quite knowledgeable in means of armour, swords, combat and oddly potatoes. Subject T3CHN0 is also very intelligent and important to the facility.

Entry 01 – 19/09/20—

So J’Schlatt’s asked me to do occasional entries in order to keep track of behaviours and shit, because of what happened yesterday, WITH TECHNO BREAKING OUT! BECAUSE I WAS SICK! To be fair nobody told him, despite not showing much affection. Techno is quite the worrier.

In regards to the incident, Techno has been punished accordingly for it, by taking away his sword collection and he’s pissed about it. Not much I can do about it though.

Ranboo was pretty freaked out after Techno had broken out, so I’ve talked to Wil about Ranboo seeing Tommy again and said yes so that’ll be coming up soon. That’s all I got.

Entry 02 – 20/09/20—

So, it was arranged that the three of them would be meeting up Tomorrow, that way Techno could apologise to Tommy, much to his dismay.

Also, Techno decided to apologise to Ranboo by just grabbing the dude and forcing him to cuddle with a small sorry? Fucking adorable if I’m honest.

Besides the usual amount of overwhelming paperwork, it was actually a pretty chill day.

Report 21/09/20— Meeting between Subject T0M, Subject R4NB00 and Subject T3CHN0

The meeting between 3 subjects was successful.

Before the meeting began, Wilbur seemed a little uneasy about Subject T3CHN0 in a sense of being worried for his own subject with regards to the recent incident. When the three initially met up, there was a bit of misunderstanding.

Subject T0M has misunderstood T3CHN0 intentions of meeting up with them. And instinctively grew in size and grabbed Subject R4NB00 and pulled them close to their chest in a protective manner.

Subject T3CHN0 is quite fond of Subject R4NB00, in a fury thought Subject T0M was going to hurt R4NB00.

So a fight almost broke between the two until the two researchers intervened, Subject T0M looked confused about the interruption but immediately remembered the circumstances and went to protect the other two, but T3CHN0 had beaten them to it.

The two growled at each other furiously, either one wanting to gain the upper hand. But then Philza told T3CHN0 to let them go, to which he denied his request, Wilbur made an effort to comfort T0M by yelling out that he’d be fine, but only got a saddened whine in response.

Eventually, the two did not move, in fear one was gonna hurt the other so both made the decision to let whoever they were holding go. Which worked and the meeting went well with a lot of them bonding. Subject T3CHN0 also apologised in regards to the recent incident.

Entry 03 – 24/09/20—

So Today I met up with Wil to spend time with him for the day, and also get to know Tommy a small bit, despite my worries it actually went really well. He and Wil are a pretty good pair in my opinion and honestly, Tommy is adorable.

Despite the accident with Tommy putting Wilbur in his mouth for the first time ever. It was really fun! I look forward to seeing more of the guy!

Entry 04 – 26/09/20—

Update on the two of them, Techno got his sword collection back and he’s been pretty chill since the incident, it’s been pretty good for him. But as for Ranboo, he recently had an Ender walk.

Which wasn’t a very pleasant experience trying to run around the facility to find him, he’s okay now though, his head’s just a little fuzzy but nothing else other than that seems wrong. Glad the guys are okay, don’t want him hurt or anything.

The funny thing that came out of this is that Ranboo now has to clean out his cell of flowers and dirt.

Entry 05 – 29/09/20—

Today, Wilbur came to help out with work since there’s been a lot of paperwork and meetings recently, I rarely have time for myself these days it seems.

By the time I came back Ranboo, Techno and Wil were chatting, it looked pretty wholesome if I’m honest. I’m glad Wilburs making friends.

He said when he was taking care of them, he and Techno had some roughhousing. Wonder what that must have been like!

Entry 06 – 30/09/20—

Well, since that interview on that popular show, I’ve had a lot of people come in for becoming an intern and some of them were just either unqualified or not just what I’m looking for, I’ve referred them to other people in the building.

Now, there is one that’s caught my eye, his name’s Tubbo Underscore, studying both physics and chemistry. Excelling at it even, he’s top of his class in one of the highest state universities.

Not only that the kid is actually quite talented with explosives surprisingly and has a strange obsession with bees. He seems very interesting. I’ll bring him in for an interview.

Entry 07 – 3/10/20—

So good news! Tubbo got the job and today was his first day here. He was an extreme help and actually got along really well with both Techno and Ranboo.

Actually, he seems to have taken a really big liking to Ranboo and Ranboo has definitely taken a liking to him as well with Ranboo constantly asking about the boy like “When will he be back?” and talking about the positives of him.

Luckily, Tubbo has a lot of spare time, so I’ll bring the boy in for a lot of shifts. I’m looking forward to working with him.

(End of document)