#ITS LIKE THE ONLY THING I TALK ABOUT BESIDES ANIMAL CROSSING

[sugarverse]

when they have crushes on you they..

[ bnha headcanons ]

izuku, bkg, iida, todoroki & kiri

✩ I. midoriya

always makes the conversation about you. he just knew you’d enjoy it! Or you’d have something to say about how something went down.

He was always fixing his clothes around you, trying to make sure both of his shoes were tied, etceteria. He couldn't do much with his hair but he tried his hardest to be presentable.

stutters so bad trying to talk to you. “c-c-can.. jeez. um. can I um.. can I borrow that marker? when you're um.. when you're done, y/n?”

obviously it gets better but it gets much much worse first.

often invites you to play imessage games when he wants to talk but is too nervous whatever he has to say isn't interesting enough

tries to get your favorite kind of coffee when you're having a bad day, wanting to be the person you leaned on. he knew how hard school could be and how hard being a heroine would be. it's the least he can do.

asks if you want to go on his morning runs with him, it gave you two time to talk about things he couldnt spit out over text :)

★ t. iida

offers the last bite of his food, always saving some to the side for you to try. you had always been pretty indecisive on what you wanted to eat and he picked up on it. so he made sure he'd save a bite or two for you of whatever he had. this started more as a habit of ‘wanting you to eat’ he couldn't understand why it could be related to his oh so private feelings

often rests a hand on your back whether rubbing it or guiding you through the hallway.

always trying to help, hovering over you as you cooked for yourself, weasling his way to helping you cut vegetables. Or carries your laundry, thinking how beneficial it would be to just do both loads at the same time.

covers the corner of tables as you storm by, ranting about something that really pissed you off. he'd always be there to listen and agree with you.

will wait those few last seconds so you aren't late, alone. he'd never risk his punctuality for anyone.. but he couldn't help but wait for you. Its like you made him stuck.

realizes he has a crush by getting something he'd thought you'd like at the mall, some charm bracelet you might not wear but your favorite characters had been on it. He gave it to you as a “good job on sportsmanship”? Thats what he tells you anyhow.

✮ s. todoroki

stares at you from across the room, not being able to hide it for the most part but you're oblivious to it.

always turns when your name is said to hear what anyone has to say about you

arm gets a little too hot when you brush against him and he often has burn marks in his shirt.

follows you around, not speaking much but liking when you two would sit next to each other and you'd show him the games you had on your switch. he was very invested in Animal crossing

buys you lunch most of the time, swiping his card whenever you got what you wanted and stepping ahead to pay. you only fussed about it one time, knowing he was just being gentlemanly. andhisglarewaskindascary

the quietness of his crush doesn't last long, he flat out tells you “Y/n, I think I have feelings for you.”

⋆｡° e. kirishima

started buying your favorite kind of snacks when he went to get his own , absentmindedly thinking about you more often than he should.

always opens the door for you, did it before he Realized he had a crush. but now? he does everything. he'll slide your chair back, shut the door for you, let you use his umbrella when needed

lowkey stalks your reposts on TikTok to see what things your into

always asks if youll be his player two on a game because it's easier to beat that way (games like minecraft)

always wants to work out with you, figures out when the best times were to ask and makes you routinely go together or he's blowing your phone up

ALWAYS always ALWAYS laughs at your jokes. he thinks you're the funnest mf walking earth besides himself and denki duo.

⛦ k. bakugo

sidewalk rule, pulling you to other side of him kinda roughly before putting his hands back into his pockets. “You don't walk in a straight line, stay over there.”

always has an extra jacket for you, you forget too much, dumbass.

when he does, always makes too much. So he makes you take whatever leftovers he's made and pretty soon he accounts for what you like and don't like.

reads romance manga that reminds him of you and him lol

changes music he listens to to someone you listen to, actually enjoys it and adds albums of music you'd never know he listens to until he's humming along to B.A.S by Megan in the gym??

weird compliments. like when you got your hair done? “your hair doesnt look shitty today” and when it does look bad? instead of being a bigger dick, he often mumbles a “did you get any sleep?" instead of the normal "your hair looks like burning trash."

@fizzintine negrofied everyone but bkg lol thanks bae for the coloring!

[ataraxiaspainting]

Morningstar's Road.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader x Yan Feitan.

Synopsis: Your routine is average, to say the least. But due to Chrollo’s orders, Feitan cannot snatch you up yet – so he simply mirrors your behaviors instead for self-satisfaction. His boss does so too.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, kidnapping, a few suggestive actions, manipulation, some descriptions anxiety/depression for the reader, animal death, and violence/some gore.

Word Count: 4.4k.

*~*~*~*

Feitan is so close to you that he can just about hear your beating heart. He could only see the back of your head, hair loose and surely will be knotted by the morning sun, but he can smell you whenever he is this close.

You always smell so nice, but for some reason, you smell even better – of that floral-scented oil you put on your neck and wrists before you go to bed. Maybe you added extra because it is the weekend.

You are on your right side – the fetal position was always your favorite – and hugging a plush that resembles your childhood cat. This was typical behavior for you; you had cried for days when your older sister called to say he had passed from old age. You weren’t weeping anymore, but you were when you saw the stuffed animal near the window of that dollar store you pass by daily on your way to work. You named it Silky, the same as the real thing, and tuck it in whenever you are in and out of bed. Feitan somewhat wished he could get the same treatment, to be in your arms as you sleep and to feel just a hint of your comforting warmth.

Feitan brought his own blanket.

It isn’t pastel pink like your sheets or your pillowcases or your pajamas and it has holes from moths and years of being stretched as he grew and his fights came to have higher and higher stakes.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time he was stabbed were just under the giant white skull pattern, although since most of the blanket is black it wouldn’t show even in the brightest of lights.

If he had recalled correctly the bloodstains from the first time it was stolen are still there too; on the bottom right corner.

“This type of nen won’t last forever, Fei.”

Feitan turns his neck, his bandana doing little to hide the slight scowl on his face. “I know.”

“Now, now… I never said you did not.” Chrollo responds while giving a small smile, still having the Bandit’s Secret in his right hand while your diary is held in his left. He turns to the next page while Feitan goes back to snuggling up beside you.

If Chrollo had a third arm, he could have the rest of your coffee you didn’t finish and left in your fridge. There is a lipstick stain, the color of that tint you often sport when in your office space. A light taffy color, he muses. 

Very fitting.

“I simply wanted you not to fall asleep too slow or too deep, we do have to leave by dawn after all.”

Feitan said no answer. Chrollo is used to that – a little too used to it, maybe, but Feitan has always stood out from fellow people from Meteor City even by the Phantom Troupe’s standards.

“Same oil?” He asks, and on cue, Feitan gives a loud sniffing sound.

“Yes.”

“Cute.”

Around your waist Feitan’s left arm lays, and his right hand holds the blanket tighter than a noose.

If Chrollo were to guess, if Feitan had a third arm he would put two of its fingers on your lips to feel how soft they were. Chrollo had done so before, but his friend hadn’t. He almost chuckles at the irony. The member of the Troupe the most intimate when it comes to matters of anatomy and torture felt that his fingertips having pink on them was a line he could not cross. It’s almost funny in a way. It’s adorable.

“Boss.”

“Hm?”

“For just a while,” Feitan starts. His tone is shy, like a little boy about to ask his classmate crush for their hand in marriage. “Can you read it to me?”

“‘It’?” Chrollo teases slightly, yet he knows what Feitan is talking about.

“The thing in your hand.”

“‘Thing’?”

Feitan huffs a bit and follows it up with a sigh.

“The… diary. Please.”

*~*~*~*

I think I���m getting worse and wondering if I have ever been happy with myself.

There is this girl that sits at the desk across from mine, Lyra is her name, and I don’t hate her by any means.

I just wish I was her, you know? She gets along with everyone in our office, Her hair is always nice. She has only been here since February and has already been promoted to the status it took me three years to get. 

Don’t get me wrong, she is incredibly nice and I always have a few laughs with her from time to time. Maybe it’s just my insecurities getting to me.

I wonder if sometimes she has similar thoughts when with other people, or even me if that were possible. I know she has a habit of procrastination and has a record of not handing in her work until a few days or weeks later – those are qualities I don’t have, but maybe she doesn’t feel anything negative about herself.

I’m known as the quiet and sweet girl at my job.

I’ve always had a bone to pick with the title, in a way. All my life that is what I was labeled as. People come to me for advice, and it does make me feel good, but I wish I could be a jokester like Lyra too.

That’s all I have… at least for now, I guess. I’m going to drink tea with honey and go to bed.

May 8th

*~*~*~*

The duo entered through the front door this time. You were gone tonight, as evidenced by the messy pile of umbrellas and house shoes that flooded the entrance, so they could break in without much sneaking around. They know where you headed to – and for now, Chrollo orders Feitan not to slit the man’s throat and gouge out his eyes. Your boyfriend, the only one of your past romantic interests not yet dead. Francis.

He’s quite the simple fellow as Chrollo had noted. Feitan was only focusing on where his organs started and ended when they both saw you with him near midnight months before.

“Not yet.”

Chrollo turns his head and looks down at Feitan as they walk down the hall. 

“I know you’re still thinking about it, but your actions may cause our plan to fail.”

No verbal response, though Chrollo notices how Feitan’s steps get slightly louder.

“Fine.”

“Are you saying you’re fine? Or are you still agreeing to not go haywire on the man yet?”

“New one.”

“Hm?”

“New word.” Feitan’s nails retract slightly from your walls as he rolls his eyes. “Hay… wire.”

His hand stops at a photo of your dead cat framed on the wall – he’s a kitten in this one, with his first collar and teenager you hugging him – but your face is cropped out.

He moves the hand away from it for just a few steps. Chrollo finds it polite of him – as polite as Feitan can be with others, anyway.

At the same time, they consider bringing the photos you took off your walls and onto whatever penthouse walls Chrollo has rented out for the next few months or so. It would be cute seeing smiling pictures of you all over, especially since you’ll be switching locations soon enough, and in turn, that expression will soon enough become rare. 

But when Chrollo thinks about the idea further, a problem arises. Your photos aren’t focused on you. They’re focused on your friends and family. You are always in the corner or hidden behind someone else. It’s of your own volition. Chrollo is sure of it. Perhaps he can get Shalnark to work his magic on them and ignore the teasing. Feitan would do nothing more than threaten to bash in his teeth, as with friends he is nothing more than a ‘grumpy wet cat’ – those are Shalnark and Uvogin’s own words. Not Chrollo’s.

“No.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll cut ‘em,” Feitan suggests while putting his sharp nails on your bedroom’s door frame.

“How do you intend to do so when there’s near nothing to cut out?” Chrollo asks. Feitan goes silent until he sits on your bed.

It’s still unmade. You must have ignored that chore list of yours again and opted to work extra hours instead.

Chrollo sits down at the small part of your room that is clean; your desk. It’s mainly used for just reading and video games, hence why the only two things not neatly in piles are a book and your computer. Shalnark told them both the password, but neither of them had decided to tread into that territory for multiple reasons. Firstly, neither of them knows a single thing about the internet and simulations. Secondly, Shalnark can just get whatever information they need without them looking inside it themselves anyway. Thirdly, they already know you enjoy wholesome things on there – the opposite of what you’re reading, if the books on your unfinished read pile mean anything to Chrollo – so there is no point in venturing for unneeded facts about you.

You’ll surely tell them yourself one day. 

Eventually. In maybe weeks. Months. Years. 

Eventually.

It’ll feel like forever and a day if you decide not to talk to either of them. Chrollo and Feitan have agreed without any argument that if you want something, you will ask them. Nicely, of course. 

Broken fingers aren’t necessarily something people flaunt. 

You wouldn’t brag about being forced onto a lap for hours out on a balcony either. 

You’ll eventually tell them. You have to. For your sake.

Eventually. Nothing lasts forever, after all.

“Fei. I promise you that this will be worth the wait.”

Feitan shakes his head, scoffing. “Will it? It would have been easier to just grab her and run.”

“I know,” Chrollo leans in a little, putting his elbows on his thighs. “I know. But you’ll lament it. I would have too if I had agreed with you to go down that route.”

A stare is the response.

It isn’t anger, Chrollo knows that much.

No. 

In all the years Chrollo has known Feitan, Feitan has never gone back on his loyalty to him and the Troupe.

But. But.

Chrollo hasn’t ever seen him have such a concurrence when there is still such division in his eyes.

“Are you sad?” He asks.

“No,” Feitan replies, looking at your cat plush instead of his leader of the full moon outside.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

*~*~*~*

Francis lives outside the city in a farmhouse. It’s up a tall hill with no pathway aside from little rectangular stones here and there – and if you ignore the animals and their housing, people would think that the place is deserted.

Feitan and Chrollo make their way to the white picket fence surrounding the chicken coop. They continue to bite down into the soil for worms or leftover grain. All female. Only three were brown; the others were smaller in frame and white.

“I’ve heard his eggs go for high prices in markets,” Chrollo grins a little. “Maybe I’ll raise some chickens of my own in my later years.”

Feitan raises an eyebrow at him.

“I was joking, Fei.” He clarifies.

“Ah.”

Feitan continues to walk with his hands still stuffed into his coat pockets. 

Chrollo looks at the farmhouse up at the top of the hillside. The lights are still on, meaning you were most likely still up and about in there.

The rooster resting on top of the mailbox makes eye contact with him for a few moments.

“Don’t scream,” Chrollo murmurs, his words sweet as sugar.

“What?” Feitan asks, not even bothering to turn around.

“I’m talking to the rooster.”

“[First]’s rubbing off on you too much.” His friend rolls his eyes and makes sure not to step on a twig.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed how these animals look at us.”

“They’re animals now. What came before… that doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Maybe to you – but I find it intriguing.”

“Talk later,” Putting his hand on the fence gate that leads to Francis’ garden, Feitan turns his head for just a moment. “Near. Quiet. Look.”

For once, Chrollo is the one that does the nodding.

The gate gives off a little squeak as it is opened. It reminds them of Francis’ prized pet pig Annie – though she is only allowed to be inside.

There are all sorts of vegetables and some fruits back here. Cucumbers, chili peppers, watermelons, corn, tomatoes, peaches, pears. They’re all in pristine condition, and so are the flowers growing in pots near the far-off window sills.

Feitan considers giving you the daisies. 

Chrollo considers giving you the marigolds.

They both look at the pig’s head hastily buried under the soil, her ears still popping out and facing the moon. Despite the interment being new, perhaps even being dug today, flies have already spread to the top part of the head and ears. They’re happy you didn’t see her because that would be quite an awful gift from your boyfriend.

Francis is probably happy too, not that they care.

From what Shalnark was able to gather from someone who barely has any social life, Francis moved here from another country about four years ago. He acquired this farm and its land almost immediately afterward. 

From a lottery, Shalnark had explained to them. Or an inheritance. Either way, man’s life is going pretty dang good. Too good, actually, because my senses are tingling too much.

Shalnark was right in that regard. Francis may adopt animals from time to time from farmers’ markets, but a majority of them suddenly appear a few days or weeks apart. There were three white chickens he had purchased. Then after a month or so, there were twelve. The three brown ones came all at once one day.

“Where’s Annie?” They hear you ask as you open one of the windows to get some fresh air. “She usually runs to the door to see me…”

Using hatsu to conceal their presence, the pair aren’t detected among the plants.

“She ran away.”

Feitan almost snickers at your boyfriend’s answer, looking down at the flies and corpse rotting beneath his feet. He didn’t mind the smell of rotting flesh – he has almost always enjoyed it since he was in his teenage years.

Chrollo’s feet don’t dig into the soil – he has opted to instead stand on the few pieces of stone that are by the cucumber plants. He makes a note to go to the laundromat after this; even though it has already been the third time in a row this week alone.

If he can convince Feitan, they’ll steal some things from your place to wash up too – Francis has always been touchy, after all.

“That’s weird,” You say worriedly, not looking into the garden anymore but instead inside; to Annie’s little bed huddled next to the window. “Did you leave the gate open?”

“Yes, I’m still rather upset about it but I’m sure she’ll be found soon.”

Soon. Chrollo grins a bit as he closes his eyes, imagining the moment he’ll save you from this man. Soon isn’t enough. No. This…

This is the moment.

This is the day.

This is the time.

“Feitan.”

“Hm?”

Francis will die today. Or tomorrow maybe, Chrollo isn’t completely sure.

“Don’t make it too bloody,” He instructs, getting off the stones and onto the dirty tiles of the garden’s path to the back door. “I’ll focus on her. We’ll leave the others alone.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you, Feitan.”

Feitan looks confused for a moment. If Chrollo were someone who hadn’t grown up beside him, he wouldn’t have noticed the small millisecond of his friend showing emotion. ‘For what?’ He wants to ask. 

Chrollo knows it. He knows it so he answers the silent question. “For being more vulnerable with her and I. [First] seems to have rubbed off on you too much too, huh?”

“I don’t like your jokes,” Feitan replies as he stuffs his pockets even more – perhaps to hide his balled-up fists. Whether they were made from the hatred of Francis or the annoyance of everything else is up to interpretation. No one will be getting an answer anyway, even Feitan himself. “You’re very happy lately.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Chrollo’s grin widens just a smidge more. “We’re about to rescue a princess.”

From that look, he knows Feitan agrees with his reasoning and is happy as well.

*~*~*~*

“You’re beautiful, darling.”

You’re laid out on Francis’ bed. It’s rather large for a room this size, but it is comfortable to undress on. You picked a periwinkle blue dress today with buttons on only its top front side. Francis wanted to help but you declined. You don’t decline a lot of things, especially when it comes to him. Francis is annoyed by that but he tries not to let it show. He hides a lot of things from you.

“Thank you.” You sheepishly smile, a light flush on your cheeks as you start to undo your buttons.

“Of course,” You’re his favorite by far. You aren’t stuck up or are with him just for his money. You’re so nice to him. You’re so sweet to him. “I wouldn’t lie to you, honey.”

You aren’t like those whores, those sluts, those fucking cheap little bitches.

“I’ll take it slow since it’s your first time and all.” He promises.

You look up at him.

Your frown is just barely noticeable – but noticeable enough for him to see.

“What’s wrong?” Francis asks.

“Lyra’s still missing… I’m worried.”

“Why?” Francis asks, getting more annoyed the more time you spend covered up. “Why are you so worried about her right now? It’s not the time for that.”

“I don’t know,” You look at the open window, cool air still blowing in along with the slight scent of flowers. “I really don’t, I just… have suddenly gotten a little sad just now.”

You’re shivering a little.

“Ah, you must be cold.” He deflects. Having only his shirt on now, he walks up to the windowsill and looks at the vegetable patch. With both hands, he pulls the window closed. “Better?”

You must not have heard him, because you keep playing with your buttons instead of being fully undressed already.

“Could you…” 

Ah. You did hear him, but you seem concerned for something else. That’s fine, as long as you aren’t playing with him and will soon attempt to run away. 

“Close the curtain? Please? I’d really… appreciate it.”

“Sure,” Francis replies, his smile returning to his face. “Anything for you. Just get comfortable, pumpkin.”

The wicked thing came all at once before either of you could blink. Shards of glass flew into Francis and into the bedroom walls. Francis screams as his bleeding hands are quick to go to his eyes, his fingers attempting to get the glass shards out of them before his vision is gone for good. In front of you was a stranger in a suit – he pushed you out of the way in a fraction of a second and onto the floor. The bed had shielded you and him. 

“Are you alright?”

You’re too shocked for words, peeking from behind the bed to where Francis is still screaming.

In front of him was a man in all black stepping on the back of his head with one of his feet. The soles of his boots seemed lodged into Francis’ scalp, and it takes you a moment to realize why. There were spikes on them; not that you could see them much because of how hidden they seemed to be right now. They’re silver judging by the color of their slight sparkle, but the rusted kind. No. Maybe that’s just the bloodstains.

The feeling in your chest is so horrible like you’re very sick. There’s pressure on your heart. It’s strangling you, despite the taller stranger’s grasp on your shoulders being so pleasant. So tender.

“What are you doing?” You screech. The sound doesn’t make either of the intruders flinch. Francis does instead. “Let go of him!”

The shorter man doesn’t look at you, opting to wedge the spikes of his shoes further into Francis’ brain. You try to get up but the man in the suit pulls you back down, shushing you as you protest and cry. “Don’t… it’ll be over soon. I told him to be gentle, you see.”

“Gentle?” You repeat.

“Yes, my dear.” One of his hands rises from your shoulders to where your eyes are. You struggle some more and the stranger whispers something in your ear. “Behave – I can always tell Feitan to torture him the amount he deserves if I wanted to. I know he wants to.”

You deflate and your eyes are forced shut by his palm. “Please stop… I don’t know what we did, just please-”

“You didn’t do anything,” The other man – Feitan if the taller man had named him right and he wasn’t just some assassin he hired; he said his name so tenderly too like he is an old friend – interrupts you. “He did.”

You feel like you’re about to throw up all the wonderful food you just ate. Chicken pot pie, beef tenderloin, roasted pork belly – it all feels like it is about to release from your throat and onto the wooden planked floor below.

“Oh dear,” Another hand covers your nose and mouth. Instead of blood you now smell cologne – sandalwood and amber. “Can you please hurry up, Fei? She looks like she’s about to collapse.”

*~*~*~*

“It’s a wonderful time to be alive,” Chrollo says as he puts the key into his car’s lock. It’s embedded with little multicolored jewels – he had commissioned some artist to customize it for him a week or so ago while Feitan went into your home on his own. “Or at least a wonderful night. Wouldn’t you say so?”

You’re in the passenger seat. You fell unconscious after Francis’ barely alive body got its fingers broken one by one. Some of his blood got on your skirt, but Chrollo is sure that the laundromat will fix that just like the workers will fix his clothes. As long as he pays them enough or threatens them enough. The latter would be more fun for Feitan but the former would let him be seen as a kind patron. Whichever way the coin flips. 

He doesn’t blame you for fainting. If he hadn’t been born in Meteor City and hadn’t been raised in a constant state of fear and a constant battle for power over others, he would most likely do the same. 

Feitan is in the back, silent. His hands now have gloves on them and are now brushing through your hair.

“Should we make the pit stop or go straight?” After the second question, the car’s lights turn on.

“Bed.”

The car starts moving into the barren street. 

“Alright,” Chrollo chuckles a little at the insistence in Feitan’s tone. “We can get some of [First]’s clothes tomorrow then. She’ll probably sleep throughout the day.” 

He doesn’t explain why because they both already know the reason. There is a short chain attached to the main bed. Depending on your behavior early on, it will either lengthen or become briefer. 

There are also some syringes in the mirror vanity that Feitan asked him over and over to keep in case of an emergency. He doubts there will be any real threat where they would have to use them. 

Feitan doesn’t. Feitan doesn’t doubt many things.

“Blankets too.” 

Feitan doesn’t ask for many things either, much less demand them.

“Ah,” Chrollo makes the left turn as his fingers tap on the steering wheel. It’s a song you enjoy listening to on your avenue home. He knows you aren’t listening to it but that doesn’t matter right now. He’ll continue to do so until your mind associates the tune with small controlled adventures to and fro and not you having a life of your own. “All of them?”

“Yes. Please.”

“You don’t say that word very often,” He teases, looking at the flat glass mirror overhead.

“Hmph.”

Putting his hand on your thigh, Chrollo continues to drive while still glancing upward now and then. 

*~*~*~*

Your heartbeat has calmed down. Feitan is now able to look at your face as you sleep. 

You look at peace now. When he had placed you on the bed, your eyebrows furrowed for a moment – perhaps your subconscious being afraid – or disgusted – by him.

The flowery scent of your perfume vanished long ago and has been replaced by a stinging one. Feitan doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot of things when it comes to you.

Unlike the bodies of those who have died by his hands, Feitan places the white blanket on top of you gently like you would shatter if he was just a tad bit rougher. 

Well… Body bags don’t really count as blankets, do they? They are meant to be ripped open and stuffed full of parts no wandering soul hopes to find.

Chrollo decides to break the silence. “After she adjusts a little, we’ll leave. Or you can stay if you want. I can carry her things on my own.”

Feitan turns to look at him.

“Pictures.”

Chrollo sighs. “Alright. But we’ll get Shal to edit them. No cutting.”

“...Tch. Fine. Silky too.” A thumb is pressed against your lips. After it is lifted, there is a light pink that covers its print.

“It’s a pretty color, isn’t it?” Chrollo muses, hanging his suit jacket on the edge of his sofa as he holds his book. “I’ll try to get the same shade for her when she runs out of it. Though I suspect it will be a while before then, huh?”

“It’s fine,” Feitan states, rubbing his thumb against your lips more. “She will always be pretty to me.”

“Never took you for the romantic type, Fei.”

“Hmph.”

[writingduhh]

Omg, yes, I'm so glad I found your blog, I absolutely love ur writing! Anyways, I was thinking recently a lot about how ted or schlatt(separately) would do if readers cat hated them. Specifically inspired by my childhood male pet cat who hated all men for some reason, so like what if readers cat hated man too, including Schatt and Ted and how would the two cope with the cat, especially with a reader who loves their cat more than life and treats the cat like their baby.

-💣 Anon

Thanks so much! ❤️ and I love this idea! I hope you enjoy! I wrote for both of the boys, sorry of they’re similar i just wanted to make sure they were both meeting the request the best I could :(

X fem reader

❥ Jschlatt:

Schlatt had never been one to shy away from a challenge, but this was a whole different ballgame. Your cat perched on its favorite spot on the back of the couch. It glared at him like he was the ultimate enemy. And sure he’d faced some fierce opponents in his life, but none quite like this… A fluffy ball of fury with sharp claws and an aversion to his very existence.

“Come on, furball, what’s your deal with me, huh?” Schlatt muttered, holding out a treat. But as expected, the cat hissed in response, tail flicking with irritation. Schlatt glanced at you, half-amused, half-frustrated. “Your little demon hates me.”

You smiled sweetly from the kitchen, clearly unbothered. “He doesn’t hate you. He just… has trust issues with men.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Schlatt muttered, stuffing the treat back in his pocket. He watched as you moved around, your attention on anything but the cold war happening between him and the cat. It stung a little, mostly because you loved your cat more than anything, and Schlatt just wanted to be a part of that little bubble.

Later that evening while you were reading on the couch your cat curled up contentedly on your lap. Schlatt sat beside you giving the animal plenty of space. “I’m telling you, it’s personal. I haven’t done a damn thing, and he acts like I kicked him.”

“He’s just protective,” you said, scratching behind the cat’s ears as it purred in contentment. “He doesn’t know how amazing you are yet.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t feel that way.” Schlatt crossed his arms, his eyes locked on the little furball a mix of determination and affection in his gaze. “You love him, so I gotta get him to love me. I’m not giving up.”

The next few days became a silent competition between Schlatt and the cat. He tried everything, treats, toys, even soft-talking to the feline when you weren’t around. But the cat, true to form, would hiss, swat, or flat-out ignore his every attempt.

One night after you’d fallen asleep on the couch with your cat beside you Schlatt sat on the floor, staring at the sleeping ball of fluff. “I get it, alright? You’re her baby. But you gotta cut me some slack here, man. I’m trying.” He spoke quietly as if not to wake you. “I’m not going anywhere, so maybe... ease up on the whole hating me thing?”

To his surprise the cat blinked lazily at him, but there was no immediate swipe. It was a small victory.

The breakthrough came a few nights later when Schlatt found himself alone with the cat while you ran out for groceries. He sat on the couch scrolling through his phone when the cat jumped up beside him. Schlatt froze, not daring to make a move.

“You finally gonna give me a chance, huh?” He murmured. The cat stared at him for a moment then slowly curled up at the farthest end of the couch. It wasn’t much, but for Schlatt, it was a win.

When you came home, you found Schlatt grinning, pointing at the cat. “Did you see that? Progress.”

You laughed softly, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Looks like he’s starting to come around.”

Schlatt wrapped an arm around you, feeling triumphant. “I told you, babe. It’s only a matter of time before we’re best buddies. Just wait.”

From that point on, the cat’s hostility slowly lessened. And every time Schlatt got a bit closer, literally or figuratively, he’d look at you with that smug grin of his as if to say, See? Told you I’d win him over.

Because in the end, Schlatt knew there was no way he’d let a cat get in the way of the two things he loved most: you and your weird little family.

❥ Ted:

Ted had always considered himself a bit of an animal whisperer. Dogs loved him. Birds? Sure, they’d chirp at him from time to time. But your cat? Your beloved furball who, for reasons Ted couldn’t understand, seemed to despise him on sight? That was a different story.

“I don’t get it,” Ted said, standing a safe distance from where the cat was sprawled on your lap. The feline’s eyes were half-closed, but the moment Ted moved too close those eyes would snap open, ears flattening like a silent warning.

You giggled from your spot on the couch, running a hand through the cat’s fur. “He’s just picky. Besides, he’s never liked men. Nothing personal.”

Ted gave you a look, half-bewildered, half-amused. “How can it not be personal? I’ve been nothing but nice to him! Look, I even bought him treats.” He held up the bag of cat treats he’d picked up on his way over waving it like it was some peace offering.

Your cat of course was unimpressed.

“He’ll come around,” you said with a smile, completely confident in your cat’s ability to forgive. Ted, however, wasn’t so sure.

For the next few days, Ted became a man on a mission. If you loved your cat as much as you said you , and it was obvious that you adored the little furball, then Ted was going to win the feline over. That was just the way it had to be.

First, he tried some charm. He’d lean down, give the cat his most disarming smile and speak to it in the softest tone. “Hey, buddy. We don’t have to be enemies, you know? I’m a great guy. Your mom likes me. Maybe we could start over?”

The cat blinked slowly and then turned away, flicking its tail in Ted’s direction. He sighed.

Next came the food. Every time he came over Ted brought new treats, convinced that sooner or later, the cat would crack. But it seemed the feline’s hatred ran deep because not even the fanciest most expensive treats Ted could find would win him any favor. At most the cat would sniff the offering, glance at Ted with a smug “nice try” look then walk away.

You watched all of this with a mix of amusement and sympathy. “They’re stubborn,” you said one evening after Ted’s latest attempt at befriending your cat ended in failure. “But so are you.”

“Yeah but he’s winning,” Ted muttered, looking defeated as the cat curled up smugly on the other side of the room, far from him. “And I don’t like losing.”

Then one day while you were in the kitchen making tea Ted was alone in the living room with the cat. He sat on the floor, facing the animal, trying to bridge the unspoken divide. “Alright, listen up,” Ted began in a serious tone. “I get it. You’re the king of the castle. But I’m not trying to take your throne, okay? I just want to make her happy. And if that means you and I have to find some middle ground, then fine. Let’s do it.”

The cat blinked at him still looking unimpressed, but for the first time, it didn’t turn away.

Ted, feeling like he might have made some small progress, reached out carefully and the cat didn’t immediately swat at him. It wasn’t exactly purring in his lap but it was something. Ted’s heart swelled with hope.

You walked back into the room just in time to catch the tail end of the scene. “Wait, is he… is he letting you pet him?”

Ted grinned proudly, hand hovering above the cat’s head still wary but cautiously optimistic. “I think we’ve had a breakthrough.”

Ted glanced up at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Yeah, well, it only took me three bags of treats, a couple hours of groveling, and a motivational speech.”

But as if on cue, your cat did the unthinkable… He leaned into Ted’s hand, just a little, allowing the smallest of pats. Ted froze , his eyes wide in disbelief.

You gasped beaming at the sight. “He likes you!”

Ted chuckled his heart racing at the sight of your happiness. “Yeah, well, how could he not? I’m irresistible.” He teases

From that day forward, Ted and your cat were far from best friends, but there was a mutual understanding. The cat still gave him a hard time now and then but every once in a while, it would curl up near him. Even sometimes let him pet him without fuss. And each time that happened Ted would look at you with the biggest grin. Like he’d just won the world’s most important battle.

And maybe, in a way, he had.

[darlingsfandom]

Little Lamb

AU: Priest Cillian x Fem Reader!

Father Murphy x Fem Reader!

Warnings: Angst! Religious themes, loss of virginity, age gap, p in v, raw sex. Priest kink!

It burned, the bitter taste of jealousy dancing on your tongue as you watched your priest simply talking to one of the church moms. Jealousy and lust have been running through your veins for years. Your family moved to town when you were only six years old and at the time church was fun! All the stories about Noah's ark and all the animals but you're not a child anymore. You grew up in this church watching all the new babies be blessed, all the family picnics, trunk or treats over the years and when you reached puberty it was terrible. You only had one person in mind, Father Murphy. He was double your age, a man of god! He watched you grow there was no way he'd ever look at you in the devils light. He was always sweet to you, thanked you for all your time involved with the church, he'd even let you take some extra candy during Halloween for your help, but you'd refuse because you were worried about your soul.

Soul? You scoffed at the memory while you stood in the cafeteria of the church helping clean up the tables after everyone else left besides a few goers that liked to have a silent prayer up by the alter. You were convinced you had no soul. You were old enough to decide on your own who you wanted to be and now that you were living on your own you were trying to figure new things out, but one thing never changed: your feelings for father Murphy. You stood there clenching a tray tightly as you watched Father Murphy talk to the church mom, your nostrils flared when her hand ran over his arm. Something snapped inside of you causing the metal tray to fall to floor with a loud clank. Both of them looked in your direction making your face heat up with embarrassment. The air became thick as you quickly picked up the tray and tossed it to its correct spot before sprinting off towards your safe spot in the church.

Bubbles of jealousy stirred in your stomach as you hid in the storage closet that kept all the decorations for the holidays. A soft knock came on the door making your body freeze out of fear.

"Y/N? I know you're in there? Are you okay?" Father Murphy spoke softly as you moved around the decorations to slowly open the door. "Oh my, what's the matter?" His hand gently grabbed your cheek. His scanned every black stained tear on your cheeks, darkened pupils and redness bursting on your cheeks.

"It's non of your concern father!" Your words spit out like venom as you removed his hand from your face before turning your face back into the room.

"You are in the house of God! You do not speak that way to your priest." Father Murphy grabbed your arm, pulling you forward and stumbling on your feet.

"I'm in the house of sin!"

"And what does that mean my child?"

"Ask that whore you were just all over!"

Before you could speak a sharp sting came across your face as father Murphy had slapped you in the mouth. You grabbed your face in shock.

"I'm sorry to have done that you my child.. but..

"I'm not a child!" You blurted out before stomping your foot. Father Murphy straightened himself out before grabbing your hand and taking you back into his office. His office has not changed once in over fifteen years everything was the same. You sat down on the old leather cracked chair as he sat down at his desk with his hands folded.

"Would you like to explain yourself for dat little outburst?" He leaned forward with stern eyes lingering over you while you sat there with your exposed legs crossed over each other while slightly swinging your black heel off your foot and arms crossed under your chest to push your breasts up out of your yellow sundress. You chewed on the inside of your cheek while looking out the window of his office before he cleared his throat to make you look back at him.

"I already told you!" Your words were lashing out and he couldn't believe your attitude. This wasn't you. Not his sweet little lamb. Father Murphy had watched you grow. He even gave you the sex talk when you were seventeen because your parents had caught you almost kissing a boy when you were studying. He couldn't understand how you've become so twisted.

"Lashing out, stomping your feet, calling people names, tats actin like a child. Now tell me, wats ta matter wit ya?" His voice was filled with concern this time.

You huffed. "Like you actually care."

"Of course I care, if I didn't I wouldn't have ya in here. Why'd ya tink I didn't care bout ya?"

You unfolded your arms and placed your hands on your lap before smoothing your dress. Blood was pumping like crazy through out your veins when you straightened up and looked dead into his eyes.

"Ever since she showed up at the church, you've acted like I don't exist! You've tossed me aside like a cheap whore! Well I got news for you father , I'm not a whore! I've been saving myself for you since you gave me the sex talk years ago! I've never even touched myself not once! Never even kissed a boy because of you! And she waltzed right in here and suddenly I'm not yours anymore! I'm not special to you anymore! I'm nothing to you!" Your eyes bursted with stinging tears as your heart ripped out of your chest. Father Murphy quickly shot up of his chair before he wrapped his arms around you.

"None of that is true my little lamb! Well at least the last part. Of course you're special to me. I watched you grow into a beautiful young lady. I've always been there for you. Just because we have a new member of the church doesn't mean I'd forget you !" His fingers trailed down your back slowly while you hid your face in his chest. Father Murphy moved his hand up to your hair and stroked your hair making you calm down until you were breathing normally.

Father Murphy pulled away slowly to look at your face. His thumbs wiped away your tears as he held your face in his hands. Both of you stood there silently searching for something in each others eyes. You sighed softly before he cupped your chin and lifted it upwards. His eyes scanned over you again before stepping away to grab something from his desk. He grabbed your hand while holding his prayer beads and walked out of his office until you two were standing at the altar. No one was around , even she had left which made you happy, but father Murphy pulling on your hand brought you back.

"Kneel before me." He had his head held high.

You kneeled before placing your hands in your lap with soft eyes glancing up at him until he placed the beads around your neck like a necklace.

"Y/N , you have admitted to the sin of jealousy and lust. Ta lord has heard of your sins. As your priest I may cleanse ya of yer sins if you ask for it. I shall take away yer sins and re bless your soul if ya dedicate yerself ta me and only me. God knows yer dedicated him days why were asking for his blessing for us!" His hand stayed placed on your head as he spoke. "Do you child, truly wish ta be mine and only mine? To be me only love?" His voice broke a little which made you place your hand over his and pull yourself to up.

"Father Murphy, I poured myself to you. I don't want you to pity me. Do you truly have feelings and urges for me?" Your eyes were pleading as he looked into yours.

"As God as our witness, I have. I have wanted ya for a long time but being a priest ... and you being so young!" You placed your fingers over his lips before standing up straight as his hands cupped your face, his lips connected to yours slowly. Your noses bumped against each other making you giggle which made him smile.

Something took over in you as father Murphy kissed you again. Your hands ran up his chest before clutching onto it. His hands gripped onto your arms making you whimper against his lips. "Take me father, please." Both of you had just declared each other as yours before he grabbed your hands and took you back into his office. He looked through his stuff before grabbing a set of keys. He took you to a room that you had never seen before, the door lead down into a basement that was surprisingly in excellent condition.

"Father? What is this ?" You asked following him down. When he flipped the light switch on you seen that it was fully furnished with a queen sized bed, simple black and white bedding, a statue of the Virgin Mary and lots of candles.

"Tis is where I live sweetheart." Father Murphy walked you over and sat you down on the edge of his bed before sitting next to you. His hand rested upon your knee giving it a squeeze which made you tingle.

"Take me father, please?" His hand rubbed against your cheek, pulled you in closer and kissed you gently. His tongue pushed against your lips which you open your lips slightly so he could slide his tongue in. He tasted like coffee and toothpaste. Fever rushed over your body making you climb into his lap. Father Murphy held your hips while licking your tongue before pulling away. You leaned back into him and wrapped your lips around the tip of tongue, sucking gently his hands ran over your back while pulling down the zipper on your dress. The fabric fell down exposing your white silky bra to him. Father Murphy pushed you off carefully and stood you up so your dress could pool around your ankles.

"Wow, my little lamb, ya really did blossom into a beautiful woman!" His hands ran down your curves giving your love handles a squeeze before turning you around to look at your ass. Your cheeks turned pink when you felt his hand gripping your ass. "Such a beautiful woman." His lips attacked the back of your neck. Your knees felt weak making you grip his arm as he wrapped it around your waist. Father Murphy continued to kiss your neck while groping your breasts from behind and pressing his hard on against your ass.

In a matter of seconds Father Murphy had your bra unhooked on the floor and you laying on your back on his bed.

"Yer a goddess, I know shouldn't say tat but tis true!" He unbuttoned his pants slowly while you laid there biting your bottom lip. His pants were on the ground before he climbed back into bed with you. His fingers trailed over your thighs while looking into your eyes. The air was thick again , your heart was going to burst into a million pieces . How is this real life? How is this happening when a few moments ago you were pouring your heart out.

Father Murphy kneeled above you grabbing your plush thighs and pulling them up to look down at your sex. It was glistening with your arousal as he looked at in awe before looking into your eyes. He leaned into you brushing his dick against your pussy so he could kiss you gently. His fingers laced with yours while he looked at you again. You were below him with such pink kissable lips, your neck covered his small bruises from his kisses, the way his prayer bead hung on your neck and laid between your breasts, you were his personal porn star. The only thing he left you in besides his beads was your heels.

"Tank ya Lord fer me little lamb. She's been a holy girl til now, she's mine. She's da perfect woman tat I've always needed and wanted. May ya bless her lord as we act in sin, she might be da devil ta others but she's perfect fer me." Father Murphy prayed above you. His words struck your core making your thighs clench before he opened them again.

"Just tell me if ya need me to stop sweetheart!" Father Murphy grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart before he slid the head of his aroused cock inside of you slowly. Your nose scrunched up as a tear dare shed from your eye while he pushed into you. "I have ya darlin, just relax." His cock twitched inside of you.

This was all new yet familiar to you. Your nails dug into his shirt pulling the fabric a little you felt the sting slowly disappear. The room suddenly felt full like everyone was watching the two of you, but when you looked back into Father Murphys eyes you felt safe, loved, protected. His free hand pressed against your cheek and stroked it gently as he gave one final push because now he was all the way inside of you.

"Oh! Fuck!" You cried out as your hips flew up making him moan at the sudden motion.

"It's okay darlin, I'm all the way inside of you." His fingers traced along your jawline before moving over your nipples giving them each a pinch before he slowly started thrusting into you. It was a little weird and messy as he held your hips making sure to get an angle that felt good since you laid there whimpering. Once he held your hips up and slightly twisted his fat cock was hitting you just right making you moan his name while dragging your warm hands over his sweaty chest.

"Yer so pretty like tis , yer always pretty but us actin in sin together ! Ya really could be a little devil!" Your lips curved into a smirk while he thrusted in and out of you at a faster pace making the smirk turn into an O! Your eyes locked in on his as a weird feeling waved over your body.

"Stop stop stop! Father I feel funny!" You tried to push him away when he grabbed your wrist and slowly stopped.

"Wat are ya feelin?"

"Like my insides are going to burst, my nipples are sore ... I ..

"Yer gonna cum honey! It's your first orgasm! It's gonna be okay. I got ya, just relax and let go!" His words went right to your core! Your body jolted forward and with a cry of his name you were dragging your nails into his arms while squeezing your eyes shut. You collapsed into his chest while his own orgasm hit him hard. He filled you with his cum making your eyes widen as he groaned into your ear.

Father Murphy pulled out of you slowly while gently laying you back down on the bed. He disappeared for a second before coming back with a wet wash cloth and slowly cleaned you up before getting into bed with you. "Don't ya worry honey. It's us now. No one will come between us. Yer me girl from now on."

"I thought priest couldn't have girlfriends." You curled into his side while he wrapped his arm around your waist. His fingers played with your hair while you laid your head on his chest.

"No priest can have girlfriends, I just waited for mine to finally get it out there." Father Murphy kissed your head gently before he gave you another kiss. This is all you ever wanted and you finally got it.

[kkpaaw]

Jay as a Animal Crossing character!

I'm back at it again with the bullshit. turning the ninja into random stuff and this time its Animal Crossing characters!

Here we have Jay who is a Special Villager, all the ninja will be, so he's not one you can invite to live on your island, but he does have some use that I thought waaaaaaay to long and hard about.

His species is a dog but since he's a special villager I didn't have him follow the dog villager mold. He's wearing a simplified version of the outfit I throw him in usually and the light bolt just shows his connection to his og total of ninja of lightning even if in ac he was never one.

His left eye is cloudy blue with a (X) to show his blindness!

Now let's talk about his purpose

_____

- Oh hi! Nice to meet you! My name is Jay and I couldn't help but noticed the nice furniture you have around here! It's so nice and inspiring! You know? I make furniture too! But I make it using trash!

Hey don't give me that look! Trash can be very helpful as I'm sure you have seen with the few recipies i see you have! People are so careless with their trash and don't think about the endless possibilities with it! Well not me! My ma and pa taught me that anything can be put to use.

I used to doubt that too ya know. I mean trash?! That stuff should be thrown away yea. I would know I lived in a junkyard heh. But my pa used the trash In that place to make so many cool things and proved to me that you don't need fancy new tech wear to make cool things! With only a few pieces of trash you can make nearly anything!

....

Heh sorry i got carried away.. As you can see I'm a bit of a yapper. Kai tends to say i talk too much but bah what does he know! Zane says he likes my chatter! And besides, he can be as much of a chatter box as I can especially when he talks about himself!

Anyway, back on topic, I make things using trash. So if you have any trash on you I'll buy it off you! Orrr you can commission me to make you some furniture too! For a small price of course.~"

- Jay, Animal Crossing New Horizons

_______

Jay can be found wandering around your island admiring any furniture u have placed down or architecture. If u approach him he'll start his chatter.

He'll buy any item deemed as trash in the game (old tires, boots, cans) for about 200 bells each. So u can make slightly more money selling your trash to him over nooks cranny.

OR

You can commission him to turn them into actual furniture, and send them to you via mail that you can then use!

And I'm not talking just the furniture you can already craft with trash In the game I'm talking other types of furniture outside of that! The amount of items he'll send you depends on the amount of trash u give him and he will ask you for any preferences to furniture just so u have a higher likely of getting an item you'll actually use.

He'll need 3 pieces of trash per one item and it doesn't matter which piece of trash u can mix and match em. To get the max amount of items which is 5 u need to give him 15 pieces of trash.

He will then deliver them to you once per day starting the very next day

So he's a good way to get extra items as well as a way to reuse your trash in a way that will be more beneficial to you!

----

He will show up anywhere from once a month to 4 times in a month, but never more than once a week

All the ninja in ac work as a unit and as such are associated with eachtoher and will talk about another when they visit

Jay is always the first one to show up, as he's the one to talk the others into visiting.

He will mention one or two of the other ninja randomly in his chatter, which will give u a hint as to which of them will show up next month. Each ninja will show up in a given month and which ninja is next will be randomized, but your hint will always be between which ninja is mentioned by whoever has visited you. It will never repeat until all the ninja have visited you in which case its then randomized who shows up next.

____

I put too much thought into this plz save me

[honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s]

"Enemies" to lovers with Matt | Aching |

thank you so much @fl3wers for the request!! sorry it took so long my love, college was on my ass 😭

warnings: all lowercase, angsty with a dash of fluff, slow-burn/pining

word count: 1.2k

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he was just annoying. not necessarily mean or cruel. and you didn't hate him but he was so gorgeous and so unavailable that you didn't know whether to jump his bones or smack him. not that you'd do either of course. he's nicks brother.

you knew that matt was an anxious person, quiet at times too. maybe you freaked him out with how you talked nonstop whenever you got passionate about things, and maybe the way you always forgot where you put things made him impatient, and maybe the fact that you still talked to him even though you drove him crazy just pushed him into hating you more.

“why are you still here, don't you have a home to go back to?” matt asked, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his hands gripping the door frame above his head as he tilted his head like an inquisitive puppy.

“why? you sick of me already sunshine?” you teased, poking his ribs as you rolled your eyes, brushing past him to grab your keys.

“hey! where are you going?” he asked immediately, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist to pull you back to him. you immediately pulled his arm away from you, ignoring your heart pounding from his simple touch.

“you just asked me to leave dipshit.” you teased, looking at him with a dead stare, your arms crossed. he rolled his eyes at you but you cut him off before he could protest.

“I'm going home” you replied matter-of-factly, his eyes bore into yours before they moved to scan your face. you could've sworn they lingered on your lips for a moment but why would they? omfg focus.

“its past two am.” he stated.

“well done, you can tell the time bernard.”

he rolled his eyes at you, his jaw clenching. fuck why did have to look like that. you turned away from him, moving to grab your jacket but matt stepped in front of you, your head crashing into him. you shove him gently, his hands wrapping around your wrists in annoyance.

“I'm not letting you go home this late, it's too dangerous” he shook his head, a light blush dusting his cheeks, “nick would never forgive me if anything happened to you” he muttered, “stop being stubborn and accept me actually being nice to you for once”

you blushed, looking down at your feet. you hated that he was right, and you hated that he was being nice and you hated his beautiful face.

“fine” you spit out, like the word was on fire in your mouth.

“you can stay in my bed.” he said like it was obvious, letting your wrists go before swiping your keys from the counter and walking away, leaving you standing in the kitchen.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

you ignored his instruction, walking to nicks room instead to ask if you could stay with him. you opened the door, sighing as you see chris's head above the covers with nick snoring beside him. fuck chris and never sleeping in his own bed.

you sighed, closing the door and preparing your stuff to sleep on the sofa but to your surprise, you find matt laying on the sofa, his head resting on his arm as he scrolled through his phone.

“go to your bed matt” you sighed, hitting him on the head with a spare pillow. he laughed at your attack, throwing a cushion back at you.

“see this is why I'm not nice to you, you're never grateful” he smirked, “I told you to take my bed, I'm okay here.”

“you can't tell me what to do bernard” his jaw clenched at the nickname, his eyes closing in frustration.

“fine.” he groaned.

he got up, moving his stuff from the sofa. you hopped on the sofa the second he got off and started making yourself comfortable when you noticed matt do the same on the floor beside you.

“matt what the fuck, go to bed” you laughed. he ignored you, placing down his pillow (and stuffed animal) and getting comfortable.

“you're not the only one who can be stubborn” he smirked, looking up at you smugly as he pulled his blanket around his shoulders.

“youre ridiculous” you rolled your eyes but your cheeks gave you away. you laid back down so he could no longer see your blushing cheeks. you longed to see his face as he continued his teasing but didn’t trust yourself to not kiss him to shut him up.

“youre the one who passed up my gracious offer.” he teased.

“and you're the one who'd rather sleep on the floor than his own bed just to spite me” you teased back, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing. there were a couple beats of silence before matt spoke again.

“it's not to spite you”

“what's it for then?” you asked shyly, turning on your side so you were facing towards him, despite still not being able to see his face, just the tips of his hair.

“I don't want to be alone” he whispered.

you quietened, looking down at him shyly.

“you must be pretty lonely if you'd rather have me for company than be alone”

“shut up” he laughed, throwing a pillow at you as you keel over, holding your tummy in laughter.

you both continued your conversation into the night, laughing and joking like you were childhood best friends. it almost felt like a sin, a secret crime committed by your forbidden friendship. you left behind your roles as rivals and simply existed in dumb jokes and embarrassing stories and fond memories.

the night made him softer and it made it harder for you to pretend to hate him. you wished that you were next to him, that you were in his bed with him and that you could hold his hand and play with his hair. you hated how he made you feel like a dumb child with a crush, craving domesticity.

you listened to him tell you about a hockey game where he ended up being sent off (again), his voice lulling you to sleep. everything in you ached for him, you craved closeness and sleepily you reached down for him.

matt noticed your outstretched arm hanging off the sofa. he reached to hold your hand, his heart aching for you close to him but stopped himself, blush rising on his cheeks.

you couldn't have possibly been reaching for him because this wasn't a movie where the boy ends up with his brothers best friend. he turned over, silently cursing himself for starting a dumb rivalry with you instead of kissing you when he got the chance. and so he fell asleep wishing that you had taken his bed so he could've laid with you instead of regretting his choices.

when you woke up, his stuff was gone and you realised he went back to his bed at some point during the night. you sighed, thinking that maybe you two were finally going to drop the facade. that maybe you were what he wanted and not the dumb fights. and so you stared up at the ceiling and wondered if your late night talk was all in your dreams when you should have been waking up with him instead.

THANK YOU FOR READING FEEL FREE TO REBLOG AND COMMENT YEAH THANK YOUUU

[koji-haru]

Time Travel AU Part: 25

[Sooo, I've finally written the next part. Sorry for the long wait! 🙇‍♀️ Anyway, some plot progression, finally!

I wrote this while sick, and I still am, so please forgive the quality]

Amora didn’t like Gabriel. That fact alone wasn’t particularly odd, the large cat usually wary of new presences and preferring to keep to herself. However, she would normally begin to tolerate their presence over time as she did with Eve and Michael. It was obvious at times that Amora still wasn’t the biggest fan of Michael, purposely messing with the angel usually by pouncing on him, but with Gabriel, she would simply run away everytime. Not run away in a ‘terrified and wanting to escape’ way, but something more akin to wishing to remain far away from the angel as if sharing the very air with him would make her sick. 

Today too, as soon as Gabriel was visible in the skies, making his way down towards Adam, Amora swiftly got off the first man’s lap and ran far away into the nearest shrubs. Needless to say, Gabriel was once again disappointed to know that Amora had run off again and that he had missed meeting Adam’s best friend yet again. And so, he sat cross legged beside the human, childishly glaring towards the direction where he last saw the jaguar run into. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Adam said, voice level and nonchalant as he lightly hit Gabriel on the head with a stick while he worked on weaving a piece for a table he was making. He didn’t need to turn and look at the angel beside him to know what the other was thinking of, having known enough about him during both his past life and the many times Gabriel had visited the garden. 

“I wasn’t–! You can’t even know what I’m thinking about!” Gabriel huffed as he tore his sights away from the shrubs, turning back towards Adam. “I just don’t get it.”

“Hmm?” hummed Adam, eyes still on his craft.

“Animals usually like angels, or at worse, never minded our presence,” Gabriel started as he leaned back on the tree the two of them were under, peering through the bright gaps between the foliage. “But your friend seems to REALLY mind my presence.”

Not knowing how to explain Amora’s behaviour, Adam simply responded with another hum and a shrug. “She’s not too fond of Michael either.”

“I know, but at least she doesn’t run away from him. With me, it’s like she actively avoids me!” Gabriel argued, waving his arms around in petty frustration. 

“I guess she just doesn’t like you,” Adam responded casually. Really, he didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t as if Amora’s avoidance of Gabriel brought any sort of problem anyway. If it wasn’t causing any trouble, then Adam could honestly care less. The garden was a perfect paradise devoid of everything that could thwart his current lifestyle, really, truly, he didn’t care if a single animal disliked Gabriel. “Maybe she just has the correct intuition to avoid you.”

That comment got Adam a light shove from the angel, causing both the wicker to slip from his hands and his craft to fall off his lap, his focus on his work disturbed. Adam let out a quiet ‘tsk’, frowning slightly down at his unfinished work on the grass before turning to look at Gabriel’s insouciant form to send him a glare. A glare that was waved away with untroubled ease.

“Or, maybe you taught her to react like that towards me!” Gabriel exclaimed aloud as if a revelation had suddenly fallen upon him. “That would make sense, seeing how mean you actually are.”

But before Adam could argue back, Gabriel began to talk again, “But that’s not the only thing I find odd about your best friend.”

“What now?” groaned Adam, rolling his eyes as he picked up what he was working on off the ground, hoping to gain his focus back and resume what he had been doing. 

“It’s just odd how Amora has never talked to me,” Gabriel started as he played with a small yellowed leaf that had fallen on his face, twiddling its petiole between his pale fingers. “In fact, I’ve never even heard her utter a single word.”

This time, Adam couldn’t help but pause what he was doing as he set the wicker down, actually interested in Gabriel’s nonsense for once. He turned towards Gabriel, the angel having stolen his full attention with his comment. “What do you mean?”

A contemplative look was painted over the angel’s face as he hummed a light tune, purposely prolonging the time before his answer, if only to further annoy the now curious human beside him. For all his stubbornness and sometimes petty childishness, Adam remained a human, his curiosity forever unceasing and predictable. Something that Gabriel found particularly amusing and easy to manipulate. 

“Just say it,” Adam demanded with multiple pokes at the angel’s cheeks, his impatience showing with the way his brows furrowed slightly, his lips in a pout, eyes gleaming with curiosity ready to burst. 

“I don’t know…Would I want to share something with a bully?” Gabriel mused aloud, his tone a playful song. 

“You’re the bully, not me,” Adam argued back as he sat back on his knees and crossed his arms over his chest with petty huff. “You’re the angel with magic, and I’m just a human. No matter how you look at it, you’re the one with power, not me.”

“Hmm, how about a trade?” suggested Gabriel, finally turning his head to meet Adam’s eyes. 

“Michael said no more tea and the like for you,” Adam swiftly responded, cutting down any hope of restocking that Gabriel ever had. 

“He wouldn’t know. He’s not even here,” Gabriel tried to reason, still hoping a little to get some more of that nice, hot drink.

“But he would still know,” Adam retorted, “especially since you’re not particularly subtle about it.”

“Fine, fine, sheesh.” Gabriel rolled his eyes and turned his head back to face the foliage above him, the specks of light seeping through the gaps like multiple tiny suns in the morning. He hummed some more, the merry tune easily dancing along the breeze as it spread throughout the garden, as he thought of a suitable exchange. Then, he turned his gaze back towards Adam, “Okay, how about you answer some of my questions then?”

“Such as?” asked Adam, tilting his head slightly to the side, confusion painted across his face at the odd offer. Sure, it seemed harmless enough, but still, a little odd. 

“Not now, I’ll have to think about them later,” Gabriel waved him off.

“I guess…I mean, sure, why not?” Adam accepted. 

“Great!” Gabriel pushed himself off the tree he was leaning on and clapped his hands, a bright gleam in the greens of his eyes. “That’s a trade then!”

“So, what you said about Amora…” Adam reminded the angel as he readjusted into a cross-legged sitting position, leaning his face on one hand, his attention fully on Gabriel. 

“Right, right. Let me explain. I can communicate with everything, it came with the role our Father gave to me as messenger to all life,” Gabriel clarified, the gleam in his eyes suddenly looking very solid as an expression Adam couldn’t quite describe took over the friendly angel’s face. “Yet somehow, I’ve never heard your friend speak, not a single word. At most, she just stares at me briefly from a distance before running off.”

To say that he was disappointed would be an understatement, Adam felt like he had just been baited and tricked into thinking there was something more interesting in Gabriel’s ‘revelation’. His shoulders sagged, heavy with frustrated disappointment as he let out a loud sigh, combing his hair back with his fingers. “Gabriel. We already talked about how she doesn’t like you, it’s no surprise she wouldn’t talk to you.”

Realising that the first man hadn’t fully understood his implications, Gabriel waved the human off once more as he sat up straighter, ready to explain some more. “Nono, you don’t understand. If I focus and try, I can actually hear a lot of things even from a distance. The thing with Amora is that, it’s as if I’m unable to communicate with her at all. Just pure silence from her. Isn’t that odd?”

“Oh. Well…” For once, Adam didn’t know what to say. Was it odd? Maybe for seraphim like Gabriel it was, but how was Adam supposed to know that? Sure, he too had a gift for communicating with animals, but it was communicating not directly talking with them. Though, now that Gabriel mentioned talking to animals… 

A few weeks had passed since then, and many things had occurred, things that Adam could never have predicted and shook him like a thunderstorm, throwing his easy life into this odd curve. He had been so preoccupied with dealing with all raw emotions that rushed at him thanks to Michael’s actions, that he had completely glossed over and eventually forgotten about something that, now that he thought more carefully about it, was in fact very odd. It only happened once, during when Adam’s mind was still in a chaotic mess regarding his feelings for Michael (not that he no longer had some conflicts stirring within his heart). Adam remembered, it was in a dream, but still… Amora… might’ve spoken to him. Sure, he had no proof it was actually the jaguar, and maybe he had gone crazy from his prolonged isolation in the garden – that was entirely possible considering the recent changes in both his behaviour and views. But something in his heart, the way that voice in his dream echoed everywhere, loud but light, commanding but ethereal, present yet far away; something within him was sure that it was Amora who had spoken to him.

Now here arrived another dilemma. Should he mention this occurrence to Gabriel? Would it be wise to share such seemingly significant information to the angel? It wasn’t as if he had a particular aversion for the angel in front of him, however, if this Gabriel was still the same angel he knew in his previous life, then perhaps it would be wiser for Adam to remain quiet. At least for a while, until Adam himself could figure out what to do with this information he had just received. Now that he knew that Gabriel could talk to animals, that meant Amora was purposely, consciously avoiding interaction with the angel. Why? Well, that was something Adam would have to find out later. 

A million thoughts swirled inside Adam’s mind as he sat quietly still on the ground, fingers on his chin, golden eyes heavy with questions looking at nothing in particular. Suddenly, he felt a light poke between his brows. Blinking once, then twice before Adam was fully out of his thoughts and Gabriel pulled his finger away as he leaned back. 

“You were frowning,” Gabriel flatly remarked, looking a little concerned though the glint of his green eyes showed an inquiring curiosity. “Did something in particular stand out to you?”

“Huh?” Adam blinked for a third time, suddenly finding the air around them a little cooler than usual. “Oh, um, no, not really. I was just thinking of any reason why you couldn’t hear Amora, but I came up with nothing.”

Adam decided that now was one of those instances where he had to wear another layer of mask. And so, with a sheepish smile and an awkward chuckle as he scratched the back of his head, he continued, “But I guess I wouldn’t really understand how angel magic works, huh?”

Silence. Adam was met with silence. And while he looked carefree on the outside with his easy grin and relaxed posture, on the inside, Adam began to worry. He could feel the blood within his body rush throughout his veins, sending a slow heating panic everywhere within him. Did– did he slip up? He hadn’t said anything too out of the ordinary, had he? With every moment passed wordlessly, the anxiety inside of him only grew larger and larger until it was threatening to spill on the outside and show in his expressions. 

What felt like eons to Adam was in truth only a few seconds of silence. And soon enough, Adam heard a disappointed sigh leave Gabriel’s lips. 

“Hm, I suppose you’re right,” Gabriel said as he leaned further back, one hand flat on the grass. The greens of his eyes returned to that once sparkly colour like young leaves under the bright sun. And soon followed the air around them, warming back up once more to the freshly freeing breeze of Eden. 

Then, with a cheery smile, he said, “Never mind then! Sorry for asking.”

Part 24

Part 26

[anim-ttrpgs]

Hey I know you’ve probably said or before. But what’re some of the playable Supernatural folk in ANIM.

Firstly, just to be clear, A.N.I.M. is the design team, while Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is the TTRPG currently in its final week of crowdfunding (ends 2:00 PM CST on Friday May 10th)

As for the supernatural folk, even though most PCs in Eureka end up being mundane, there’s quite a lot of options for supernatural characters, which we have talked about before, but we never miss a chance to talk about them again!

This will be a brief overview that will barely even scratch the surface of the depth and nuance we’ve written in to most of these abilities. If you’re interested in learning more, why don’t you just download the fully playable, free prerelease version of the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy rulebook available on our website and our itch.io page, and go to Chapter 8!

There are ten of what we call “Mage traits.” A “mage” in Eureka is something you could think of as kind of like an X-man. They are otherwise normal people except for one single inexplicable power. Some of these include pyrokinesis, telekinesis, lightning powers, supernatural speed, supernatural beauty, and even the option to play a “psychic detective” who can receive clairvoyant revelations based on clues.

These powers tend to come with few if any downsides, besides the fact that the character can only have at-most one of them. There is also a slight investigation point penalty.

Then, there’s the playable monsters, of which there are five, each of which is fleshed out to the point that they are entirely unique gameplay experiences.

First up is the vampire.

Playing a vampire is a unique challenge because of their rather large list of weaknesses they must contend with in everyday life. The sun, while not instantly lethal like in Hollywood vampire movies, does strip them of all their powers, and they must contend with a compulsion to count large numbers of small objects, an unwillingness to enter private residences uninvited, difficulty crossing bodies of running water, an aversion to garlic, and more! They must of course also drink human blood to keep their Composure up, as they do not gain Composure from eating or sleeping.

These weaknesses are more than made up for by incredible stealth, combat, and mobility options. They can move nearly silently, travel through shadows as if by teleportation, are superhumanly strong, nearly unkillable, can walk effortlessly on sheer surfaces and ceilings, and can “remanifest” into a variety of forms, such as the classic bat, a wolf, an enormous monstrous bat form, and even mist! There’s also a religious angle with them but that is too complicated to get into with just a brief overview.

Next up, the wolfman.

The wolfman is like a Hollywood werewolf. They can transform from a mundane human to an anthropomorphic wolf(however you choose to interpret that) or a very large regular wolf. In either wolf form, they can only be permanently killed by decapitation or by silver weaponry.

My favorite thing about them is the fact that they transform involuntarily on the night of the full moon, or when they hit 0 Composure. In this state, they will rampage uncontrollably, attempting to devour just about anything that moves for a period of time. The fact that it can come out at the worst of times is so awesome it makes me super excited to hear about in future sessions.

Then there is the witch.

The witch is actually a regular human and has no supernatural weaknesses except for the fact that their powerful witchcraft takes more of a toll on their body than the supernatural powers of other playable monsters.

The first thing a witch can do is place a variety of terrible curses on people, a few examples of which include turning them to stone, putting them in a supernatural slumber, or turning them into animals.

The other thing witches can do is cycle throughout all the different Mage traits. They can only have one at a time, but if a Mage trait exists in the rulebook, they can have that trait when they need it, which basically represents their ability to cast a wide variety of different spells in addition to those curses.

My actual favorite thing about the witch though is their ability to enchant certain objects to make them fly, which is not limited to just broomsticks, although broomsticks are of course a classic.

Then there is the fairy.

The fairy was a tough one to translate into Eureka because of the sheer number of different things attributed to fairies in historical folklore. We had to come up with a sort of “generic fairy” that gets the gist of fairies across while leaving room for a player to get way more specific if they are so inclined.

The fairy shares the witch’s ability to place curses on people and cast a variety of different spells, but also can take pieces of people’s identity, such as their names, and/or spirit them away to the fairy world, from which they may never return.

This is offset by the fact that they cannot lie, as well as a few other folkloric fairy weaknesses.

Finally, one of the fan favorites, the thing from beyond.

(Fanart by @umbraldame)

The thing from beyond is kinda like if you wanted to play as something inspired by The Blob and The Thing.

Imagine a color-changing “blanket” of flesh and teeth that can fold itself up into the shape of a human, change colors to mimic the right colors including clothing, and mimic human speech. It wants to be your friend, and eat you, which, to it are not mutually exclusive.

The thing from beyond can do anything a thin blanket of flesh could do when unfolded, such as squeeze under doors or camouflage themselves against surfaces, and also fold themselves up to mimic just about anything, including specific humans. They tend to have a default human persona, but can get very specific with their mimicry if they want, which gets easier the more of that specific person they have ingested. A small sample of blood or hair could give a bonus, but eating the entire person makes mimicking them effortless.

Eating a person also allows them to absorb bits of their memories, which means they can get to know bits of what their meal knows, which is represented in mechanics by them getting bonus investigation points for the duration that they are digesting their latest victim. If the victim knew anything about the current case they are investigating, that means even more investigation points.

Here’s a fan comic about that, if you’d like to see it in action.

And here’s a post about the themes of monstrousness in Eureka if you’re interested.

You can play as all of these things and more in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, which is in its final week of kickstarting right now! Crowdfunding closes at 2:00 PM CST on Friday May 10th, so lock in your copy now while you still can!

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

You can also support us on Ko-fi, or by checking out our merchandise!

Join our TTRPG Book Club At the time of writng this, Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is the current game being played in the book club, and anyone who wants to participate in discussion, but can’t afford to make a contribution, will be given the most updated prerelease version for free! Plus it’s just a great place to discuss and play new TTRPGs you might not be able to otherwise!

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[b-00-biez]

Hello! I love your works ^^

Ok, so what if the slashers (You can pick any slashers you'd like!) had an S/o that was extremely talkative and a bit loud, also gets excited to talk about the interests they love so much?

If you don't feel up for it please don't feel forced to do so <3 or please ignore this, have a good day!

Fr like me lmao

Slashers with a talkative S/O

characters: Thomas hewitt, brahms heelshire, Vincent Sinclair, Michael Myers

Thomas Hewitt

Its his past time listening to you while he works or doing chores

Like its crazy how youre talking about animal crossing while he chainsaws a victim 😭

Although if hes not doing work he would throw you on his lap and listen to you talk for hours until dinner

If hoyt ever says something about how annoying you are he would send a glare right back at him

He absolutely loves you and loves how you're comfortable with him talking so much about your life and interests

but dont be too loud only if hes not working

He doesnt want hoyt nagging him about focusing

So he asks you to reserve the loudness when hes not working or just chilling with you

He REALLY loves when you talk right before yall go to sleep

It makes him relax and hearing your voice is like music to him🥺

Brahms Heelshire

Before brahms could ever show himself to you you'd talk to the doll a lot

Like about your day, funny things that happened when you were in school, your hobbies

He feels like hes talking to you and finds you interesting

Its all when you found out about brahms being alive because he kept stealing your stuff

Like half of your luggage is gone

and you scolded the doll😭😭 the funny thing is after that all your stuff starts coming back

So after he reveals himself and asks for a kiss

You tucked him in bed and talked to him for hours he would appreciate a good night sleep and continue it tomorrow!

So tomorrow comes he loves listening to you at breakfast It's like hes a normal kid again

He loves knowing what you like so that one day he would also experience that with you

He also likes listening to stories about your childhood although he doesn't have much to share.

Vincent Sinclair

He thinks its pretty neat

He finds it boring being alone in the studio with all the artworks he has

and its nice to have someone other than his brothers checking up on him

If you both have similar likes he would absolutely be happy to listen to you everyday

Just like thomas he would listen to you like a radio or background music while he works

He puts you beside him or on his lap holding your waist while you talk his ear off about absolutely anything

Although dont be too loud

He would like a moderate speaking voice from time to time but if youre excited about something go ahead

Just dont be too loud often, he cant concentrate if theres too much going on

If hes not working he would either lay on your lap or lay you on his lap while you talk about anything to him

He would brush your hair or just massage your head while you do so

Michael Myers

This old man cant keep up and half of the words that left your mouth just gone through one ear and out the other for this one

He appreciates peace and quiet and would love to listen to you at the same time but once you grow old like him hes all grumpy

So to him all he can hear is "blah blah blah.." and would only hold onto key words

If you're talking about someone he will not remember who they are or any other details about them

He would act like hes listening but once you ask him if hes still listening you can hear him fucking snore😭😭

so your solution is to talk a bit louder which kept him awake half of the time

When he doesn't mind or is in a good mood

He would just listen to you blabber when making dinner, lunch or when hes too tired to stop you and too lazy to even get up and leave

When hes not in the mood he would just put his hand on your mouth and just stare at you blankly

👁️👁️ "stop"

And youll be like

👁️👄👁️

This fucking dick puts on your favorite movie to make you shut up too like youre going on about something and you just hear your favorite series playing

[liminalpebble]

The Spoils of War (An Emperor Geta and Coriolanus Crossover)

AO3 Link

Emperor Geta x slave girl reader x Coriolanus

CW: sexual slavery non/dub con, talk of violence and blood, Minors DNI

(Build up, the truly nasty, hide-your-face-from-the-lord, smut is in the next part).

AN: Hello, friends. Welcome to the depraved crossover nastiness we've all been waiting for. I thought this would just be one chapter, but it's looking like a two-parter for now. It should go without saying that this will absolutely not be historically accurate in any way, shape, or form. I swear to god, I actually am highly educated. I studied Shakespeare and Latin and the Roman Empire extensively but, fam, THAT IS NOT WHAT WE'RE HERE FOR. We're here to be whores. So without further ado...

Chapter 1: The Victor Returns

Your wide eyes take in the vast marble hall, the gold embellishments, and the lights of dozens of flickering lamps reflected off of shiny fabric, statues and bodies; so many bodies, squirming, gasping, undulating, and rutting like animals. You sit nervously on your cushion at Geta's feet, beside his gilded throne, seeing but hardly believing the scene around you.

Geta had plucked you, like a delicate flower, from your little village mere days ago. Those few days had taught you so much about the flesh, about hedonism, and about how absolutely obsessed the insane young emperor is with corrupting you. This first attendance at one of his famously debauched orgies is only the latest lesson of your education.

A deep, filthy laugh beckons you from your reverie, and you meet Geta's eyes, black as the abyss, and his wolfish grin. His thick hand with its many glimmering rings combs through your hair affectionately, aimlessly, as you would pet a kitten.

“You've never seen anything like this, have you, little pet?”

“No, sire. I apologize. I'm just...”

“Absolutely adorable when you're shocked, and it drives me absolutely mad with lust. Come, sit on your king's lap.”

You obey, readily. The slender golden chains criss-crossing your warm skin chime gently as you rise. As Geta settles you carefully upon his thigh, he admires your body and the adornments he chose for it. The silk is iridescent, thin, and transparent as the wings of a dragonfly. It leaves nothing to the imagination, on the contrary, it only draws attention to the curves beneath it, curves which Geta now leers at shamelessly as he gulps his wine.

“Now, darling, look...observe well,” he whispers close to your ear, plush lips ghosting over your skin. “You needn't be shy.”

He dips a fingertip into his honeyed-wine then holds it against your lips with a silent command to taste. You open your mouth and surrender to him, licking and sucking gently as you would attend to his cock. You've learn how he likes this. You've been an apt pupil and it delights him.

“Good girl,” he sighs, watching your now wine-blushed mouth. “You're a quick learner....never need to be told twice, do you? My generals could learn a thing or two about that.”

Then, a messenger greets Geta with a deep bow and kneels. He announces that his general, Coriolanus, has returned from the battlefield and comes to report.

Geta smirks to you, like it's an inside joke, “Well, well. Speak of the devil. Yes, very well...send him in.”

You tug his robe very gently to get his attention and ask, “Sire, shall I leave until you need me again? Perhaps this is not for my ears?”

He grins broadly, but it's unsettling. It doesn't extend to the voids of his eyes. “Of course not! Please, by all means, stay. I'd like you to meet Rome's greatest general...obstinate though he is.”

He ushers you gently back to your cushion as the doors groan loudly, heralding the entrance of the elite soldier. He's filthy in his armor, painted in mud and blood and the sweat of battle. A sharp contrast to the rich, bright, sensual scene on either side of the aisle. His presence parts the vista of pleasure like the Red Sea as he storms forward and takes a knee before his god-king.

“Caesar, I bring you glad tidings of our victory, yet again,” says a deep, smooth, voice. The haughty aristocratic accent slices through you like the razor-sharp sword he carries.

“I expected no less from you, Coriolanus,” Geta drolls out, swirling his wine idly in his goblet, nearly bored, even by the monumental news. The practical aspects of ruling never appealed much to the emperor, only the pleasurable ones. Another wicked grin crosses his features, the one that tells you he's up to some depraved game for his own diversion.

He finally looks over his general. “Rise, Coriolanus. As your reward, I invite you to stay for this delightful party. You've earned your relaxation. Please, enjoy all I have to offer.”

You dare to raise your eyes, curious about this man even Geta praises. The champion stands, towering over you with his long, lean height.

The first thing you notice is the striking difference between this man and your king. Where Geta is an impressive, heavy, scepter, Coriolanus is the sharpest of swords; a man made of all harsh angles, seemingly forged of steel. Especially his eyes, gods, those eyes, cold as iron and blue as an icy sea.

You had become accustomed to the warmth, the blood-flushed pink lips and round animated feature of Geta's face. Now, his general's thin, unsmiling mouth and impervious expression rather frightened you. But beneath it, could you dare admit that it aroused you?

You shake the thought away. These choices weren't yours to make anymore anyway. Your sex belonged to one man to do as he pleased...and he certainly did please, often and well. You were grateful, really, for your privileged spot. It could have been so much worse.

The men talk and you struggle to keep your curious eyes politely averted until ordered to do otherwise. Therefore, you don't see it when Coriolanus' eyes rake over you extensively, drinking you in with covetous longing. His marble shell cracks ever so slightly with a feeling...with lust.

Geta for all his madness and failings, is however, very talented in perception. He can find weakness in a man's face and exploit it entirely, mercilessly. But today, he is in a good mood. Today, he is feeling merciful.

Geta watches and smiles knowingly. “Beautiful, isn't she?”

He takes your hand, urging you to stand with him. He gently guides your chin up to meet the soldier's eyes. The king's hand strokes your hair then grips your breasts possessively while he speaks. “And to think this beautiful diamond in the rough was languishing away in some provincial hovel.”

Finally, a smile crosses his thin lips, and his face is transformed into a charming portrait of a chiseled god. “A tragedy, indeed, sire. May I touch her?”

“Of course. Just be gentle. She's quite precious to me and still...learning.”

He begins to extend his hand towards your soft cheek, but then remembers the blood and dirt covering his body and reconsiders.

“Ah. Perhaps, I shouldn't until I've bathed properly. I wouldn't want to soil you, my dear. At least, not yet and not like that.”

Despite your nerves, you giggle faintly at the innuendo, still afraid, but charmed and aroused, maybe even because he is so powerful, so intimidating. Or maybe because of how his rich deep voice drops even lower as he practically growled the words, like a majestic beast barely restrained. Maybe because he could tear you apart.

“Oh, but you must have a taste of her. Her cunt is so sweet, like honeyed-wine.” Geta turns to you and says with a gentle coo, “Darling, be a good girl...slide your fingers between your legs and let the good general have a taste of you.”

“Yes, Sire,” you say with as you part your silky skirt and slide two dainty digits between your folds where your juices have already begun to drip. There's plenty to collect for him.

Geta holds your chin to meet Coriolanus' eyes while you bring you fingers to his lips. The gazes of both men bore into you as he licks and sucks you into his mouth, cleaning your fingers with the long muscle of his tongue and never looking away.

Geta hums, “hmm. So wet for us already, pet?”

You blush and try to stutter out an apology, to which both men simply chuckle. “Oh she is sooo sweet, Geta. So eager to please...so obedient and innocent. I can see why you're quite taken.”

“Well, why don't you bathe? The sooner you do, the sooner we can both take her.”

Your emperor's words set your blood on fire as it rushes to your cheeks and between your legs in anticipation. You weren't sure what to expect from this debauchery, but you certainly didn't expect this.

@mischiefmaker615 @sst0txx @pepperstories @myheadspaceisuseless @icytrickster17 @erisriddle @starry-avidan @screaming-blue-bagel @sheneedsrocknroll92 @lil-graveling @goblingirlsarah @muddyorbs @gigglingtiggerv2 @smolvenger @loz-3 @veemoon @elegantkoalapaper @thatnerdliv @userchai @anythinggoesemily @palomahasenteredthechat @scorpiongirlsthings @ashleylsu86 @littlegayboisworld @marcotheflychair @punk-in-docs @eveybitch @sosawmeinhalf @writingwenches @jamdoughnutmagician @soulpiercing @cookieworldcake @the-breakout-boy @alexakeyloveloki @sweetsigyn @acidcasualties @joejoequinnquinn

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Matthew | Letting Go | Romantic

As star-crossed lovers, it is difficult enough to see Matthew the way you do. When he is called by a Preacher Who is stirring unrest in Capernaum, you know that you need to let him go.

Requested by Joanne

You quicken your step to catch up with Gaius as he paces so quickly away from you that you’re almost convinced he doesn’t actually want you with him. Your father is wearing his usual duty-scowl that you’ve occasionally made fun of him for in spite of the stink-eye he gives you whenever you bring it up. Perhaps that you’re starting to understand his hesitation as to why he’d rather have you back at home, but your mother is too occupied with the children in the household to have you around as well.

It’s not like you’re a burden of sorts. Quite the contrary, since you are way older than Marius, your younger brother who came twelve years after you were born. Not that you minded a sibling, for your childhood has been quite lonely up until that point. However, the sudden care for another baby paired with your father’s affair with one of the servant women had caused enough friction in the household to make you feel a quite invisible. Now that Ivo, your half-brother, has been ill for a while, your parents had deemed it a good idea for you to go with Gaius on a few of his daytime shifts just to give your mother some more space. At first, you hadn’t really liked the idea, but you’ve made an unexpected new friend.

Two, actually. A dog as black as night wags its tail as he happily trots your way upon seeing you and Gaius round the corner towards the booth. Matthew is already inside, rummaging around through some documents. Your heart flutters a little inside your chest upon seeing him. It has been a feeling that has been haunting you for the past few months although you hardly know what to do with it, even though you have a strong inkling of what it might mean.

You pat the loyal canine sniffing your hand as it smells whatever whiff remains of your breakfast. “Hello there, good boy.” you praise the animal, who excitedly circles you as you approach the tax booth. 

“Good morning.” Matthew curtly greets. Gaius clears his throat and gives a small nod.

“Hello, Matthew. How do you do?” 

You hop onto the barrel you usually sit on whilst your father goes to stand next to the booth, hands resting on the pommel of his gladius. Matthew looks up at you, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lip. He likes the way your hair looks today, but he doesn’t say it out loud.

“I’m doing well, lady (Y/n), thank you.” You hum at his formality and smile a little. 

“What did I tell you about calling me that?”

“I’m just trying to be polite.”

He avoids eye-contact as he writes down a few things into the ledger. “It’s not like I’m that much older than you. Only by a few months.” you try again, an argument you’ve often brought up with Matthew whenever he’s calling you by that oddly formal, distant title. “Besides, I’m not a lady and you know it.” 

Your father makes a noise between a cough and a scoff, clearing his throat as he looks at you from the corner of his eye. Smiling a bit, you roll your eyes at him, hoping he’d cheer up some time. 

“How are you doing, miss (Y/n)?” 

At least he isn’t calling you ‘lady’ this time, so you decide to let it slide.

“I’m doing good, Matthew. Thanks for asking. What did you have for breakfast this morning?” 

“Two eggs, a slice of bread, a handful of red grapes in an even amount.” The publicanus answers the same way he always does, and even though you know his breakfast to be the same every single morning without exception, you know the young man appreciates the routine of your daily talks with him. Same questions, same answers. Matthew feels at ease around you, knowing to expect a good and genuine friend in you. Lately, a strange feeling has been developing inside his chest every time you are near, but Matthew doesn’t really know how — and if — to voice it. 

It had taken you time to build that friendship, but you’d be around often enough for Matthew to start to warm up to you more than he had done to your father so far. You knew that Gaius was fonder of the tax collector than he let on, but you know that he wouldn’t admit that, at least not to you. 

“That sounds delicious, I hope it was good.” 

“How did you sleep, miss (Y/n)?” 

“My night was good, although I had this odd dream about the Preacher Who has been around this area. I’m certain that you know Him, right?” 

Matthew hums and fiddles with his handkerchief as he ponders over your words as well as the implication that he is familiar with the Rabbi you mention. “I’ve heard of Him.” Matthew mutters. Before you can inquire, however, the first customer of the day heads up to the booth, drawing his attention away. More people follow suit, queuing up so that you are left to your own devices, swinging your legs back and forth as you absentmindedly pet the stray dog that had become a trusty companion over the past months. You’d think that it was high time to give the animal a name, but you haven’t settled on something that fits just yet.

Gaius keeps a watchful eye over the booth as Matthew works hard to get all the numbers in order, levying the people and kindly — firmly — demandingly requesting whatever Rome is owed. It’s not until noon that your father urges Matthew to briefly close the thing so that both him and the tax collector could have a break. 

The publicanus exits the poky room for the first time in hours and gives you a kind smile as you walk up to him. “I’ve brought you something.” you tell him, taking a wrapped-up package of food from the bag flung over your shoulder. You know how much he appreciates dried apricots from time to time, so you’ve made sure to sneak him extra from the breakfast table this morning. Gaius gives you a look as he realises this, even though this isn’t the first time; it wouldn’t be the last either, were it up to you.

His hand brushes against yours as he takes it, the feeling sending a jolt through you both although you quickly try and brush it off. Matthew gives you a smile, nodding his head curtly. “Thank you, miss (Y/n).”

You eat lunch in the sun whilst Gaius keeps a watchful eye over you two. He’s been having suspicions about the nature of your relationship to the tax collector. You’ve been acting chipper lately. Standing next to your bed at six in the morning to prepare for the shift without complaining, whereas you’d be staying in bed until the late morning otherwise. A certain glimmer in your eyes that you usually do not hold is present whenever you look at Matthew. Your father can’t help but be a bit concerned, even though he is well aware that if you have indeed feelings for the sweet albeit a little awkward publicanus, you wouldn’t act on them. Seeing your current situation, it wouldn’t even work out to begin with.

After lunch, Matthew has to get back to work. Tending to people coming over to pay their taxes, weighing the worth of their payments, carefully taking notes in the ledger to make sure that the right amounts are put with the correct names.

Bored with how the day is slowly creeping by, you play with a pebble underneath your sandal whilst Gaius attempts to strike up a conversation with Matthew. You watch and listen on in slight amusement. 

“Did you see the Parthian foot races last night? Darius ran like a gazelle.” 

You hum as you recall yesterday evening’s winner.

“It was quite the sight.”  

“Jews don’t go to foot races.” Matthew deadpans.

“Your old friend Simon himself used to run the wagering tables.” Gaius says.

A look of slight disgust crosses Matthew’s face. “We’re not friends. Next.” 

“Okay, fine, so you did not go to the races. You stay home?” 

“I went to see my mother.” 

“That would put me out, too.” You nearly snort at your father’s reference to your late grandmother. “Did she ask when you’re going to give her grandchildren?” 

For some reason, the question makes your chest feel tight at the notion of the tax collector having a sweetheart waiting for him at home. You had never dared to ask him about it, but now you might get your answer at last.

“She didn’t ask.” Matthew replies with a downturned gaze as he dutifully works on. The response doesn’t give you much to work with. You let out a shaky breath. 

“I thought your parents didn’t speak to you.” your father counters.

“I had questions I couldn’t ask anyone else.” 

Gaius squints a little. “A mother of a son with talent like yours should be proud.” 

“She’s ashamed that I could use a talent that God gave me against God. Next.” 

Your father keeps on talking even though it’s obvious that Matthew rather doesn’t speak of it. “You’re good at something. You found a way to make a living doing it. It’s that simple.” 

Matthew takes a moment to overthink what he should answer. “It must be nice to live in a world so simply ordered.” 

“We live in the same world, Matthew. Besides, what else are you going to do with a mind like yours?” 

Before Matthew can answer, however, a group of people pass by the booth. Even though this is nothing out of the ordinary, everything suddenly seems to slow down in time when the familiar face of the Teacher you’ve been hearing — and dreaming — about looks right into the booth. Matthew freezes where he stands, staring at Him and saying nothing. 

Your father notices it, too. He narrows his eyes in slight suspicion. 

Jesus halts and pivots, turning towards the three of you. Matthew cranes his neck to see Him closer in an attempt to figure out what is going on. The Rabbi steps closer, most of His students continuing to walk off. “Matthew,” His voice sounds, loud and clear, full of conviction. Gaius’ hand wraps the handle of his sword and you’re almost inclined to tell him off right away, but all words leave you as Jesus approaches you. A few of His companions have noticed the absence of their Teacher and are now joining Him.

“Matthew, son of Alphaeus.” 

The tax collector briefly hesitates, wondering if there happens to be another person going by that exact name and origin passing by, leaning a little closer to the iron bars of the collection booth. “Yes?” His voice wavers.

“Follow Me.” 

Your heart skips inside your chest as you turn to Matthew, who is looking puzzled as he tries to process what exactly is going on. “Me?” 

Jesus chuckles. “Yes, you.” 

One of Jesus’ followers rushes to His side to protest. “Woah, woah, woah… What are You doing?” 

“You want me to join You?” Matthew questions. Your heart hammers in both awe and realisation that if the young man you’ve started to consider your friend and perhaps even more decides to indeed join this Rabbi, that you’ll likely hardly ever see him again, let alone continue to build the bond you’ve shared so far. Still, you do not wish to stand between Matthew and his destiny.

“Keep moving, street preacher.” Your father threatens, his hands not having left the weapon hanging from his hip.

“Do You have any idea what this guy has done?” The student of Jesus points angrily at the tax collector. “Do You even know him?” 

Jesus smiles softly at Matthew before responding. “Yes.” 

The moment the word leaves His lips, Matthew immediately gathers his things and heads to the door. Your father, however, doesn’t want to hear any of it. “Listen, I said—” 

The moment he hears the lock of the booth being turned, his voice hitches as he sharply turns towards the now-former tax collector. As Gaius turns to speak to Matthew, you momentarily look at Jesus, Who kindly nods at you. You aren’t certain what it means. 

“What are you doing?” 

Matthew attempts to brush past Gaius but is halted in his step by an arm roughly shoved against his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Gaius, let me go.” 

You breathlessly watch the two as your father takes a moment to come up with a reply.

“Have you lost your mind? You have money. Quintus protects you. No Jew lives as good as you. You’re going to throw it all away?” 

Matthew pauses for a moment, a look of determination suddenly covering his face. “Yes.” He holds the key to his home up to your father’s face, who hesitantly takes it. Then, the ring around his finger. Matthew legs past Gaius and gives you a smile as he passes by you. “Thank you, miss (Y/n), for your friendship.”

Your heart aches as you watch him walk towards Jesus and His followers, tears blurring your vision even though you know it is right where Matthew is supposed to be.

“I don’t get it.” The same student doesn’t seem too happy with the new addition to their group. 

“You didn’t get it when I chose you, either.” 

“But this is different. I’m not a tax collector!” 

“Get used to different.”

The student quits his initial protest as Matthew halts in front of Jesus, seeming a little confused still as he holds his wax tablet close to his chest. “I’m glad we passed by your booth today, Matthew.” 

“Yes.” 

Jesus gaze momentarily flickers to you as He gives you a kind look, then turns his eyes back to Matthew. “It must be difficult leaving behind your friend. I can see that she means a lot to you.” 

The son of Alphaeus looks over his shoulder for a moment, blushing a bit as he sees you. 

“It is. And… She does.” 

You’re about to speak up, to say something, anything, but all words leave you. Jesus gives you a small shake of His head. 

“No, (Y/n),” He pipes up, your father frowning a bit as the Preacher addresses you. “Not yet.” 

Not yet. Your head suddenly spins with questions, but you don’t have the space or time to get answers for them, for Jesus gestures behind Him, turned to Matthew. 

“Shall we? We have a celebration to prepare for.”

“You’ll regret this, Matthew.” 

While ignoring Gaius, Matthew turns away from you, having accepted this new, thoroughly unexpected calling.

Gaius and you are left behind dumbfounded, your father stepping closer to you as he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Well have I ever… What did He mean by that, ‘not yet’?” 

“Exactly my thoughts, pater.” you mutter, attempting to choke back a sob as you watch Matthew walk away, mourning what could have been, whilst you also find an inexplicable sliver of mysterious yet tenacious hope. 

[milady-chance]

🌷 Miraculous Characters Favourite Animal Crossing Special Characters (pt 1/3) 🍃

This is mostly based on New Horizons since that’s the only game in the series I’ve played. I’ve included screenshots of the characters in case you aren’t familiar with the game 💫

With all the pictures its a long post so I added the cut. Anyways here is a random post no one asked for but here we go...

Marinette - Sable

The first thing Marinette does when she logs into Animal Crossing is visit Sable at the back of Able Sisters. She was determined to befriend the seamstress and loved learning about Sable's family history. Even after unlocking all the fabric patterns, Marinette talks to her every time she enters the store

Adrien - Pascal

Adrien lives for Pascal's jokes and puns. He spends hours time travelling to different days so he can dive for scallops and see Pascal again. When he's not diving, he spends his time fishing to read the fish puns. When he finds one he really likes he screenshots it and sends it to Marinette (who introduced him to the game)

Alya - CJ

Although Alya isn't a fan of fishing in the game, she bonds with CJ over their love for livestreams. CJ is a natural livestreamer and is always ready to capture a shot of the fish you bring him, which Alya admires

Nino - Kapp'n

Nino has a soft spot for the singing turtle. He loves taking trips to mystery islands just so he can have the opportunity to clap along and create a beat to Kapp'n's sea shanty. When he plays animal crossing with Alya and she skips the singing cut scene, Nino gets really sad

Luka - K.K. Slider

Luka got Marinette to decorate his island just enough for him to unlock K.K. Slider. He plays Animal Crossing every Saturday to assist his concerts. His only goal is to unlock all the songs available (his favourite song is K.K. rock)

Kagami - Timmy and Tommy

Although Kagami isn't allowed to own a switch or play animal crossing, she has her own profile on Marinette's Island so she can play. She loves visiting Nook's Cranny to visit her favourite tanuki's. She admires their hard work and their politeness when you visit.

Félix - Pavé

He doesn’t play Animal Crossing, but one day he saw Adrien playing during Festivale and he was obsessed with Pavé for obvious reasons...

Sabrina - Isabelle

Sabrina wants to be just like Isabelle. She admires all the hard work Isabelle puts into the island as Tom Nook's assistant. She loves playing at random times to see if Isabelle ever gets a break from her work (but of course she is always working hard and doing the dirty work for Tom Nook)

Chloé - Tom Nook or Label

Unsurprisingly, Tom Nook, the CEO of Nook Inc is Chloé's favourite. She loves that he doesn't do much besides ask the players for money (of course she makes sabrina farm bells for her to be rich in animal crossing). Another honorable mention is Label, she only buys her clothes from the designer and she would never step foot into the able sisters.

you can find part 2 and 3 in the reblogs or here:

[fandoms--fluff]

Ooookay (please once again bare with me for the request and I'm half asleep so it might not make sense) anyway another Hope x hybrid female reader (secret little). So like reader is normal this tough and independent girl who isn't afraid to speak her mind. As for the plot (?) the reader gets super stressed out over family issues or school (Alaric) and she hides in her room to regress because she's embarrassed or maybe even ashamed to tell Hope since Hope's only ever seen her as tough. (When reader regresses, she's into like coloring and stuffed animals and cuddling) anyway, while the reader is coloring, Hope walks into her dorm (she never knocks) and it catches bothbof them off guard but Hope quickly regains her composer. The reader is rather quiet when she regresses as well like she's always scared to talk.

Anywho, thank you for your time in reading this and thank you for you patience with me 😄 (please let me know if it's too demanding or detailed or anything you don't like🙏🏽)

Hiding No More

Little hybrid female reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: swearing, very brief and not detailed mentions of past trauma, but the rest is fluff!

A/n: Don't worry about anything babe!!! I love detailed requests 💛

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

Hope watches as you storm out of the room, hands acting as if you're trying to strangle someone. Doctor Saltzman she assumes, considering you were obviously trying not to kick his ass.

She wants to go after you, but she thinks it's best to let you cool and calm down a bit.

You want to smash everything in your path on your way to your room. After you slam the door closed, you lean against it, eyes turning amber. You slide down the door, crouching into a half fetal position.

Taking deep breaths, you start calming yourself down. There's still a want to smash Alaric's head into his desk, over and over and over again in the back of your head, but that's always there. What you want to do is just slip into your safe spot.

Its the only thing you've never told your girlfriend. You don't know how she'd react to you having a little space. She already has so much on her plate and you don't want to add to it with your own problem. Thanks a lot mom and dad, you thought, considering they were absolutely horrible parents and how you researched age regression after they abandoned you for good.

Fuck this, you think to yourself and slowly start getting up off the ground. You kick your combat boots off beside your mirror on your way to your opened closet.

You pull out a Disney fairies coloring book and a pack of 24 crayons from one of the shoe boxes you have. Walking over to the soft rug beside your bed, you lay your things down and sit down on it as well, legs crossed.

You turn to a page with Faun and Iridessa and start coloring it in.

After twenty minutes, Hope goes over to your room. She walks opens your door and walks in without knocking, just like she always has since you guys became friends when you first came to the school a couple years back. You guys bonded over both being part werewolf and vampire/soon-to-be vampire, and you told her stories about her dad since he's the one who turned you. After shutting the door behind her, she turns back to look in the room. Her eyes immediately widen, meeting yours, where you're sitting on the ground, yellow crayon in hand.

Your eyes also widen, but there's a sprinkle of fear in them. Your girlfriend just walked in on you coloring a little kid colouring book. You'd think that surprise and fear in one would jump you out of your headspace, but you're wrong. Sitting on the ground, you're still deep in your toddler headspace, it's not as young as you could be but it's not exactly great at the moment.

Hope snaps out of her staring, and makes her way over to you. She notices a half-drunken sippy cup of apple juice sitting beside you.

You start curling into yourself, not wanting Hope to see you like this.

"Hey, you don't need to be afraid y/n/n" Hope says gently, crouching down beside you. You look up at her, vulnerability shining through your eyes. Hope can see why you'd want to hide, you're not one to easily show being vulnerable.

She tries to rack her brain for why your behavior seems so familiar until she realizes it. Your parents sucked and were horrible to you, creating trauma for you, and you needed some way to cope with it, so your mind found comfort in your headspace regressing from a teenager to a kid. Age regression. She read about it in one of the books she has a couple months ago for one of her classes, not thinking anything of it and why it seemed familiar, until now.

She sits, legs crossed. "Your mind is different right now, isn't it? younger?" She asks with a comforting small smile on her face. Hesitating, you slowly nod your head. "Can you tell me how old you are sweetie?" she asks.

"Th-three" you speak quietly, not used to ever speaking in little space since you had no one to speak to. "...Are you mad?" you squeak out next, wanting to get it over with in the sense that she is most likely going to break up with you.

"Of course I'm not mad, baby. I love you so much, I want to take care of you," she tells you and kisses your forehead.

A second later, she feels you crash into her, head nuzzling into her neck. She wraps her arms around your torso and holds you close. "I'm always here for you, baby girl, no need to hide anymore" she whispers, eyes closed.

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

(Content warnings: TW: Fake Interrogation, TW: Mild knifeplay, TW: Restraints, Playful Soap, Adorable Soap, Loving Soap, Protective Soap)

The metal table was biting cold against Ana’s skin. That alone was going to cause her to break if the situation went on much longer. The thin fabric of her tank top did nothing to prevent the frigid sensation from chilling her to the core. And shorts weren’t much better when it came to comfort. She knew that if she just held out a little while longer, it would all be over. And if she could see a clock, a watch, anything to help her pass the time, she could steel her mind against all the discomfort she felt. The desperate thought made her laugh internally, though. Because, whether she had her eyes open or closed, she wouldn’t be able to see a thing anyway. A blinding light stared down at her from above, its brightness making her wince whenever she tried to adjust to it. And no matter how hard she twisted and turned in her restraints, she couldn’t diminish its unrelenting gaze.

Though her sight wasn’t her greatest asset, she could still hear just fine. And the sound of heavy footsteps pacing around the table where she lay made her stiffen with resolve. And the tiniest bit of fear. But she was determined to see this through no matter what happened.

“So,” a muffled voice spoke in a far too casual voice. “Where are they?”

Ana clenched her jaw, squinting to see past the light’s glare. Whoever was speaking had something over their mouth to disguise their voice. They didn’t want her to have any clue who she was talking to, so she could rule that potential intel out. But maybe she could see a detail that would give something away?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, with a practiced calm.

There was a long stretch of silence, and the pacing continued. But her whole body jolted when her interrogator slammed their fists down on the table beside her head, making her jump.

“Where are they?!” The man screamed. “I know you took them. Now tell me where they are or things will get very unpleasant for you.”

"There was a detail!" she thought to herself. "The interrogator was a man! Or, at the very least, had a very masculine-sounding voice."

A loud noise crackled next to her ear, and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man shove something towards her face. She immediately wondered what it was but fought the urge to turn her head. She had to be level-headed, collected, and perfectly calm. She couldn’t give any hints to what she was thinking. Ever.

Luckily, she didn’t have to battle her curiosity for long. Because the object was shoved at her face so that she could get a proper look. Her heart hammered in her chest as her vision focused on… an empty bag of Animal Crackers?

Just like that, her resolve morphed into confusion as her mind stalled. Her interrogator went on, but whatever they were using to muffle their voice had slipped a bit.

“You don’t want to talk? I’ll make you talk!”

Suddenly, a scenario that was supposed to elicit the ultimate terror devolved into peals of laughter. Ana writhed and gasped for breath, not from pain but from relentless tickles.

“Soap, that’s so not fair!” she gasped out between giggles. "I was really getting into it!"

"Can you be serious for just 15 minutes?" Price grumbled from across the room, exasperation clear in his voice. "This is supposed a torture simulation, not fun and games."

The overhead light clicked off and Ana blinked rapidly, trying to readjust her eyes to normal lighting again.

"I am being serious!" Soap protested. "She ate all my snacks and thought I wouldn't notice! You said we should try to use their weaknesses, and I know hers inside and out. Besides, tickles can be torture!"

Price crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Come on, Soap. If I'm gonna be forced to oversee this, you're doing it my way. It's late. And right now, her passing this training is the only thing between me and a good night's sleep. If I end up staying out here all night because of you, it'll be you on that table instead. Now start over. And be realistic."

Soap rolled his eyes, earning another giggle as he poked Ana’s side one last time.

"Okay," he sighed, tugging his mask up over his nose and giving her a playful wink. "Going back in character. Get your game face on, lass."

Ana nodded, letting her grin fade back into a deadpan expression as she tried to convince herself she was in real danger again. The overhead light clicked on and there was a faint beep as Price restarted the stopwatch.

"I'm gonna make this nice and simple," Soap growled, dropping his voice into a menacing tone. "Tell me where your team is. I want details and I want names."

After a slow inhale and exhale, Ana spoke. "I don't know."

"I think you're lying," the "interrogator" chuckled. "You know what happens to liars, girl? They always tell the truth eventually. At the cost of a few fingers or toes, yes. But it always ends the same."

The graphic threat was an effective touch. Ana could feel terror beginning to coil in her stomach and her pulse jumped. The fear only increased in intensity when he slowly pulled out a knife. She could hear the soft scraping of metal against metal as he drew it from its sheath. And her breath caught in her throat when the cool metal of the blade pressed lightly against her neck.

"Come on, baby girl," he murmured in her ear. "Sing for me. I know you want to tell me what you know."

He was playing dirty, and he knew it. It was common knowledge on base that a smooth talking man made her weak in the knees. After Alejandro caught her mid-breakup recovery watching the same cheesy romance movies on repeat, no one on the team ever let her live it down. But what Soap had no way of knowing was that he was tripping a very dangerous wire by using his knife alongside it. The minute it touched her skin, Ana's heart rate quickened. And it wasn't from fear.

The warmth of his breath ghosted across her shoulder, whispering through the fabric of his mask as he pressed closer. She felt a slight tremor run down her back. But she squeezed her eyes shut, trying hard to focus only on the assignment at hand. Not how close he was to her. Not how her body was reacting to that closeness.

"I-I work alone," she panted. "There is no team."

"Let's see if I can jog your memory then," Soap hissed, pulling out his phone and pulling up a picture of Captain Price. "Have you seen this man?"

Ana turned her face away as he held the image up to her face. She knew this trick well. He was trying to watch her face for the slightest hint of recognition. And she had a terrible poker face. But Soap moved with her, forcing her to face his phone.

When the image came into focus, she couldn’t help but start laughing all over again. It was indeed a picture of Price. It was one she'd seen before. But it had been cleverly edited in advance. In the original picture, Price was frozen mid yell while jabbing his finger at a snarky recruit's face. But Soap had clipped the image in the style of one of her favorite memes. So now there were a total of three angry Price’s standing in a circle, pointing and yelling at each other in classic Spiderman fashion. The tension shattered as both of them fell into yet another fit of laughter.

"That's it. I'm done," Price yelled, throwing his stopwatch across the room and stooping to collect his things.

Soap threw up his hands. "I'm sorry! It was too good of an opportunity. Did you see her face? Even you've gotta admit that was hilarious!"

Soap turned the screen towards Price, but the captain's scowl stayed firmly in place.

"Yes, very funny," he spat, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. "Since you're in a joking mood tonight, how about this for laughs? Neither of you are permitted to leave this room til she passes. Keep the antics up as long as you want, Soap. But if I wake up without a full report and a passing grade outside my door, I will personally kick. Your. Ass."

Price turned on his heel and stormed out of the interrogation room, slamming the door behind him. Silence stretched on for a good while afterward, too. Ana felt a bit ashamed of herself. Soap certainly wasn't helping with his playful personality. But even with that, she should have had the self-control to keep a straight face. It was a silly idea, but what kind of soldier was she if all a captor had to do to break her was make her laugh?

"He's right," she sighed. "We gotta get this done without goofing off. It's important."

"Come on. It's not that important," Soap mocked her, surprised she was turning serious on him now too. "The 141 doesn't get captured. He get in, we down the baddies, we get out."

"Yeah, but I'm not nearly as experienced as the rest of you guys are. What if something happens during a mission and I have to actually use this stuff?"

Soap went quiet, his grin quickly vanishing. His eyes flashed as he frowned a bit. "Not happening. Not on my watch."

"But it could! We have to be prepared for every possible outcome. I know you don't like to hear it, but it could."

"But it won't."

He said the words with a gruff finality, crouching to retrieve the stopwatch from the floor. His easy going nature was gone now. The sudden shift made it clear such a scenario was a topic he never wanted to dwell on and would not discuss any further.

As Ana watched his mood sink uncharacteristically low, suddenly his antics throughout the night began to make sense. He wouldn’t take the role playing seriously because he couldn't. He couldn't bear to imagine someone actually hurting her like that. And the minute he began to see true fear settling in her mind? The second she looked at him with real terror in his eyes? He had used humor and jokes to intentionally shatter the illusion, unable to handle her looking at him like that.

"Soap, are you okay?"

He sat down on the edge of the table, staring down at the bundle of training forms. There was a checklist of scenarios she had to successfully withstand. And there were blank areas beside them for him to describe her responses in excruciating detail. From the look on his face, Ana could tell he did not like what he was seeing.

"I'm fine," he snapped, sending the papers fluttering to the floor. "We can just fake it. We'll spend a few minutes getting our stories straight, check a few boxes, and you'll pass. Then we can just go to bed and forget any of this ever happened."

It was difficult for Ana to take on a comforting role in her current position. She was still strapped to the table and her hands and feet were still bound. But she hated to see him so distraught. She shifted a bit, gently nudging his leg with her foot.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay! None of it's real. What happens in this room stays in this room. At the end of the day, we're still just Soap and Ana. Friends to the end, right?"

She'd thrown in the sweet little motto he'd started shortly after she'd joined the team, hoping it would lighten his mood even just a little bit. Instead, he winced. His jaw clenched briefly at the mention of the phrase, and he still wouldn't meet her eyes. But Ana persisted, determined to lift his spirits somehow.

"Come on, don't be a debbie downer! Say it with me. I know you want to," she teased, gently starting a playful chant. "Friends to the end! Friends to the end! Friends-"

"Damn it, Ana! I don't wanna be just friends anymore! I'm in love with you, okay? Don't you get that?"

Ana froze, lying there on the table in shocked silence. Her mind stalled, unprepared for the sudden admission. And for a good while, she didn't know what to even say. But Soap went on.

"I've seen a lot of things, doing what I do. A lot of death, a lot of pain, a lot of suffering. I've seen what it can do to even the strongest people. How it changes them and makes them a broken shell of who they used to be. I won't let that happen to you. I'd rather die than let someone do anything on that list to you. And I sure sure as hell won't be the one to do it to you for a fucking grade. Even if it's just pretend."

"Soap…," her voice trailed off as emotions began to take hold. "I-I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. Just because I blurted something without thinking out doesn't mean you owe me anything. I just… I just thought you should know."

"...I love you too."

Now, it was Soap’s turn to freeze. Slowly, as if the moment was so fragile even a wayward breath would make it shatter, he turned to meet her eyes.

"Please, don’t joke. Not about this,” he whispered the words like a prayer. “Do you mean that?”

Though her face flushed bright red, Ana held his gaze. Her hand twitched in its bindings as if she wanted to reach for him. But she nodded.

“I do. I have for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it without risking our friendship.”

For a moment, time stood still as the two stared at each other. Their faces were a mixture of shock, pleasant surprise, and adoration. They were like two magnets once held apart by opposing threads that they’d just severed, now drawn together with nothing left to hold them back.

Soap moved, lunging forward into a passionate kiss. And though she lay prone beneath his shadow, Ana lifted her head as much as her restraints allowed to eagerly kiss him back. His hand slipped behind her head, deepening the kiss with a desperate tug. Soap’s lips felt soft against her own, sliding against her full lips like they were made to be their perfect match. Their tongues began a wild dance and Soap let out a low moan. All this time biting his tongue and holding himself back. And yet here he was, watching as his wildest fantasy was finally made real.

With what felt like great effort, Soap finally pulled back. His knees framed her hips, and he gently rested his forehead against hers. Their chests rose and fell, meeting with each inhalation as they caught their breath.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Soap panted, closing his eyes and savoring the moment they’d just shared. “To kiss you. To touch you. You’re so bloody gorgeous, doll.”

Ana sighed as his fingertips traced the outline of his waist, his thumbs brushing upwards just beneath the hem of her tank top. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. And from the way Soap shuddered above her, it was clear that he’d felt it too.

[theheartofone]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Thirteen

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Thirteen: A Line in the Sand

“Don’t expect me to fix anything else,” you say, crossing your arms. “After these three, I owe you nothing.”

Zoro, unfazed by your remark, watches the crew bustling around, moving your workshop contents onto the Sunny. As he steps on board with a case containing your meticulous work, vials of melted metals cradling the essence of his swords, he glances at you, his words carrying an air of detachment.

"Do what you want, I couldn't care less." His gaze lingers on your face for a moment before he turns away, striding off to find a suitable spot for your tools.

“THIS IS SO COOL!” Usopp yells, yanking out a pistol from the box he’s carrying. He aims the empty mock piece at the reindeer. “Chopper, play dead!”

“I’m not a dog!” Chopper shouts vexedly in his heavy point transformation, dragging a carton of metal ores on his back.

Meanwhile, Franky’s grinning on the Sunny, going through all of the transported items the others are constantly bringing in like a hyperactive child.

“Oh man, you’re an artist,” Franky gushes as he rifles through each and every one of your boxes. Suddenly, his arm plunges into your inventory, gently scrambling around to not dent your work and manages to whip out a crazy-looking lightsabre. “Woah, what is this?!”

Franky swings the beam around excitedly, attracting Usopp, Brook, Luffy and Chopper’s wild attention.

“A LASER?!” Chopper bubbles wildly, repeatedly hopping into the air to get a better look at the weapon.

Brook accidentally singes a part of his hair by leaning in too much, immediately emitting a worried yelp. "YO-HO! Even I'm not immune to its strength."

The aggressively blue laser beam glares wildly against all five of the fanboys' faces as they huddle around in a circle. You laugh a little, seeing them as a resemblance of animals poking a stick at an unidentified object.

“Raya, can I have it? I’ll take good care of it, I promise. Can I? Please?” Luffy pouts pleadingly at you, eyes sparkling with mischievous wonder. Nami gives him a side eye as she boards the deck, heaving a heavy container in her arms.

“Absolutely not,” she dismisses. “Remember the last time you used one of Franky’s beams?”

Luffy blinks at her innocently. “What’s the big deal? I only burnt half the island.”

Everyone turns around and stares at the other side of the island. A row of singed corpses of trees lay morose on the blackened sand.

“Luffy…”

“Ah, keep it, it’s only a draft anyway. But who gets to keep it…? Well, that’s up to you.” You devilishly flutter your eyes, placing a hand on your hip.

Usopp grunts, tugging helplessly at the handle from Franky’s stubborn hands. “Competition it is!”

“Can you lot talk about that later? We got stuff to move,” Sanji grumbles, giving them a dirty look; but as his eyes slowly flicker onto to yours, a big smile spreads across his face like butter on hot toast, his hot face steaming into heart-shaped swirls of love. “Our lovely Raya-san is relying on us <3”

Robin smiles, as a flutter of hands rolls through from the cave and downhill to the deck. Her eyes beam brightly as she looms over the gathering crowd, taking in the view of your weapon. “I wonder how many people you can cut with that simultaneously.”

Usopp stares at her. “I don’t feel safe when I’m around you.”

Sanji swoons, twirling around you and Robin, and shoots his hand up in the air. “I vote for Robin-chan to possess the weapon!”

“Declined.” The four boys wave their hands dismissively, turning their backs to Sanji.

Franky beams at you, placing a metallic arm over your shoulder. “Besides all a' that, our SUPER weapons master needs to keep her assembly goin’! I gotcha, Raya. Gimme a few hours.”

“Hey, no fair! You’re trying to win her over!” Chopper glares.

“Whad’ya say? Can’t hear you, Chops. Got things to do,” Franky says, already on the other side of the ship. He waves a hand in the air. “You won’t be disappointed, Raya~”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.  Are you stupid for joining their crew, or was this a somewhat reasonable decision? You can’t tell just yet.

As you rest your head against the wall, your eyes apathetically trace over the shapes of clouds. A twang of guilt reverberates inside you, almost like someone’s pulled the strings to your fragile insides out of spite.

You can’t help but feel like you’re awful. You’re awful for laughing - for smiling and feeling joy as if your dearest family member’s life isn’t hanging in the balance. Should you even be allowed the possibility to feel anything other than sadness and anger right now? Are you unfeeling for being able to?

Gramps' logbook, your precious memento, rests within the folds of your pocket, the heaviness of his novel-laden words filling your chest. Your fingers scatter across its leather surface, caressing it as if his soul lies within those yellowed pages. You trace the familiar curves of your grandfather's handwriting, your heart sinking.

And it hits you: you’re joining the crew of the man who let your gramps be kidnapped.

The way he just stood on top of that house and watched as your Gramps mercilessly took ruthless beatings, over and over again. Watching as the ink dragged his fragile, paralysed body into slime, consuming him whole. The memories start flooding in, the wide, squishy eyes of the sentient taking his whole form into its peripheral.

It kills you. The realisation hits you that you gave your complete trust to a man who was more than capable of saving your guardian and he simply refused to do so. He sat there and took it in. All of it.

Strength, the old man’s voice whispers into you. A whoosh of heavy wind brushes your cheek as a delicate reminder of him. Have strength, child.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the Thousand Sunny, Franky emerges from his little workshop cave with an enthusiastic grin. A dirty rag slung over his shoulder, a pencil tucked behind his ear, he gestures proudly toward the revamped space.

"Wanna see, Ray? It’s all done.” Franky smiles cheekily as if he’s bursting trying to hold onto his little secret.

You lean away from the wall, offering him a strained grin. “Totally. Time to show me your skills, Franks.”

The workshop is ingeniously integrated into the newly upgraded and expanded crow's nest, seamlessly extending its structure. On one half lies the gym, now revamped and full of equipment, while the other half unfolds into an expansive space of metalwork. Its spacious design accommodates a variety of workstations, each adorned with gleaming tools and metallic wonders. The ceiling, a marvel of engineering, forms a domed structure entirely composed of windows, providing a breathtaking panoramic view of the night sky.

You step into the workshop, feeling the cool metal floor beneath your feet; the familiar smell of fresh wood and the tang of metal engulf you, making your heart burst with joy. Franky follows you in, his eyes eagerly scanning your expressions.

Franky, always one for grand gestures, hits a switch, and sleek metallic blinds glide up to the centre point of the dome with a graceful motion, forming a private enclave.

“And if you both need a lil’ peace and quiet….” Franky grins while flicking the second switch.

Another option presents itself – the odd partition between the workshop and the gym transforms into a thick wall of sound-proof glass.

“Or if there’s any…bad vibes goin’ on in here…” Franky spins to the third switch, fingers already on the job.

In an instant, the glass pane immediately flips into a solid metal wall. The crew gazes in awe at this spectacle, and Usopp, in particular, is on the verge of drooling with sheer amazement on the floor.

“Franky, why here?” Zoro frowns, staring longingly at his poor gym.

Franky grins, flexing his biceps as he responds. “Crafters work best under natural light, buddy! Our Crow’s Nest offers 360-degree light, in all directions, from every angle. Besides, I’ve expanded the gym to almost twice its original size to make up for it, did ya see? It's a whole new training ground now!”

Zoro crosses his arms, eyeing the newly expanded gym area and then glancing back at the workshop. His frown deepens for a moment, but then he grumbles, "Better be worth it. Don’t want anyone interrupting my training."

Franky laughs heartily, clapping Zoro on the back. "Don't you worry, man! Your workouts’ll be undisturbed, and now Raya's got the perfect space for her work."

Zoro mutters something under his breath, a mix of scepticism and acceptance, and then heads towards the expanded gym to inspect the changes.

The equipment held within your side of the Crow’s Nest is a fusion of practicality and artistic flair. Sturdy anvils are strategically placed, ready to endure the forging of blades and crafting of intricate designs. The workbenches, sleek and polished, offer ample space for organising your tools and materials. The entire space is ingeniously soundproofed, ensuring that the clinks and clangs of your work won't disturb the tranquillity of the crew's quarters.

Nami gasps as she takes the whole space in, turning to different areas with amazement. “This is beautiful!”

Luffy runs inside and plops himself on one of the stools. “Chopper, my right-hand man, hand me some metal!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Chopper says as he pretends to offer Luffy materials.

Zoro snaps his head around and raises his eyebrows from his side of the Crow’s Nest. “Right-hand man?”

“And look - you’ve got tons of space,” Franky says, showcasing the various workstations he has meticulously arranged.

A designated area for the vials of melted metals, a specialised section for assembling and testing your inventions, and racks filled with neatly organised tools. The walls are adorned with the posters he found in one of your moving-in boxes, adding a little touch of home to its interior, as well as a bunch of some playful doodles from the crew members.

As you move around the workshop, inspecting the meticulously arranged workstations and the various tools at your disposal, there's an undeniable sense of awe at Franky's craftsmanship. The fusion of his genius flair composed as a tangible product of your workshop is beyond your expectations, and you can't help but feel love for the dedicated space.

However, the beauty of the studio is somewhat overshadowed by the realization that you'll be sharing this closed space with Zoro. Every clang of metal, every creak of the floor, and every breath will feel like a reminder of his presence. The panoramic view that was initially breathtaking now seems slightly tarnished as you look from across the room, the gym resting in your peripheral as a stain.

You find yourself trying to focus on the positives, appreciating the thoughtfulness of Franky's gesture. Still, the irritation persists as you contemplate having to navigate your space with someone you'd rather not be around. You purse your lips slightly, mentally preparing yourself to coexist in this shared workspace.

“How come Usopp Factory doesn’t have any windows?” Usopp grumbles, side-eyeing Franky. Consequently, he receives a slap on the head from Nami, who hisses at him to be nice.

“So?” Franky turns to you, his eyes wide, growing more and more nervous with every moment of your prolonged silence. “What do you think, Raya? I can absolutely change the parts that you don’t—”

“Franky. You shouldn’t have,” you breathe out, a sense of admiration and fondness for the space bubbling up in your chest. Your eyes glimmer, taking everything in like a gasp of fresh air. “This is a crafter’s dream.”

“I know what a workshop means to people like us,” Franky gushes, blushing immensely at your gratifying reaction.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the sea, of fresh wood and sawdust, and the metallic tang of the workshop before turning to your fellow colleague.

“Thank you.” You grin brightly, gently punching his shoulder. “This is exactly what I need, Franks.”

Franky returns the punch, a broad grin on his face. “Then get unpacking already!”

You roll your eyes at him with a small smile, watching him aggressively gather the rest up in his massive metallic arms, to then rugby tackle them all out of the studio. With a couple of objecting yells, your door slams with a thud and all you hear left is the muffle of their complaints.

With a heavy exhale, your weight slams down on one of the stools, its impact reverberating through the entire workshop, echoing and echoing into the flush edges of the room.

In the midst of the ensuing silence, a realization strikes – you're not the sole occupant of this expansive space. Across the distance, your eyes lock onto a familiar grey eye and a soft white scar.

Despite the palpable awkwardness, Zoro remains a silent observer. His gaze meets yours, and even as you shoot him an unimpressed look, he stands there stoically, seemingly unaffected by the tension that fills the workshop.

"I..." Zoro begins, his voice low, "I didn't want it to turn out like this." The words hang in the air, the weight of their meaning palpable. His gaze is sincere, a glimpse of regret.

You meet Zoro's gaze with an unyielding and narrowed expression, your eyes conveying a mixture of emotions — frustration, hurt, and a determination not to be swayed by his words.

The silence hangs heavy in the air, pregnant with unspoken hatred.

His grey eye steely gazes at you, but you've already decided to shield yourself from the vulnerability his words might expose.

“Listen—” Zoro starts, pushing himself away from the wall.

Without waiting for him to finish, you turn away and stride purposefully towards the switch that Franky had installed for situations exactly like this. The tension in the room becomes palpable as your fingers deliberately flick the switch upwards.

The metallic wall, a masterpiece of engineering, responds to your command; slowly, deliberately, it ascends from the middle partition of the room. The sound of its movement resonates through the workshop, drowning out any potential words Zoro might throw out.

Zoro's eyes — chilled steel, intense, a reflection of the mutual irritation that charges the air — are the last thing you see before the ascending barrier closes in. As the partition completes its ascent, there's a visceral shudder, a palpable severance of the connection between you and him - and yet, it's not so easily shrugged off.

Because you know his presence is still there. You know he's stood on the other side, staring at the same wall as you are; simply, your newly issued armour is but a fragile facade of protection, a delusion of control. 

[blueraineshadows]

Your ‘Wedding Night’ fic is one of the best things I’ve ever read 🫶🏼 I was wondering if a Part 2 has crossed your mind? I don’t feel like there is enough Seb x MC stuff after Hogwarts and it would be great to capture them at this time 🥰❤️

Thank you so much 🥺💜 I'm so happy how well Wedding Night has been received and would love to write a bit more. I hope this okay, plenty of soft Seb in this one 💚

Sebastian woke to the first pale light of dawn. He blinked a few times and looked down at the warmth of his wife's body pressed against him, her head was nestled near his shoulder, her glorious hair spread across the pillow behind her.

His eyes worshipped the fan of her lashes on her cheeks, the delicate curve of her jaw beneath her ear, and a smirk slowly spread across his lips as he admired the bloom of red marks at the curve of her neck. He couldn't get enough of the little sounds she would make when he sucked her there. He felt the blood rushing to his cock and lifted the edge of the blanket, peeking beneath to admire the soft curves and dips of his wife's body. After six months of marriage, he was still hungry for her, hating any minute spent away from her. It was still a mystery to him how his luck had sent her his way. Without her he would be dead, or worse, he knew it in his bones.

She looked so peaceful in her sleep, but his mouth had other ideas. He caught her earlobe in his teeth and tugged, a hand swirling over a hip to cup her backside. He loved the sight of her arse in those tight little duelling trousers she wore, but he liked it even better naked and in his hands. He gave it a squeeze, urging her closer so that she nudged against his growing arousal. She sighed and shifted, her breasts moving against his chest. He gave a little moan of appreciation, they were next on his kiss list.

She opened one sleepy eye at him. "And what do you think you are doing Mr Sallow?"

He smirked and lifted her thigh to wrap her leg about him. He rubbed his nose against hers, lips searching out lips for soft kisses. "I missed you," he whispered against her mouth.

She half sighed, half chuckled. "I am right here, you know," she protested. Her eyes blinked sleepily towards the window. "Its only just dawn, too, and you kept me up so late."

"I definitely heard no complaints at the time." He bit her lower lip, rolling their bodies so he was above her, grinding his hips luxuriously against her. Her legs welcomed him, her foot sliding down the back of his leg. "Besides, I promised you a whole day of my undivided attention."

She braced a hand against his shoulder with full intentions of shoving her husband off and returning to her sleep, but his kisses had always been the most devilish distraction. MC found herself moaning against his tongue, lifting her hips to welcome the familiar push of his hardness as he filled her to the hilt. She moaned, a spark of devilment making her lips twist into a teasing smirk. "Fuck me," she demanded in a low voice. He loved it when she talked dirty.

It escalated quickly, his thrusts deep and forceful, fingers digging into flesh as they climbed to the peak. MC flung up her arm, her hand braced against the headboard as he pounded, relentless, his eyes hooded and full of fire. He was not holding back. His name burst from her lips in a cry, her eyes widening as her release crashed over her, but there was no respite. She gasped as he shifted, grasping her hips to lift them, fucking her harder, the sounds tearing from his throat were pure animal as he found his own release, collapsing over her, dragging air into his lungs in harsh breaths. She could feel the hammering of his heart where their chests were crushed together. She held him to her, smoothing her hands along his back, waiting for him to speak. Her own heart thumped at the intensity of their desire.

He shifted, lifting himself to kiss her softly. "You drive me crazy, Mrs Sallow."

She smiled, shuffling out from under him, her hands coming up to her breast with a slight wince. Immediately, Sebastian sat up and cupped her face, concern marring his brow. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, of course not," she assured him. She touched her breast again. "Its nothing, just a little tenderness."

His frown remained. "Is it your time to bleed?"

Her gaze softened and she pressed a kiss to his mouth, appreciative of his unfailing care of her. "I am fine, I promise. Although, I do need to visit the bathroom. When I come back you can tell me of your plans for our day together."

He looked unconvinced, reluctant to let her go as she slid from the bed and walked to the bathroom.

Wrapped in coats and scarves, Sebastian held MC's hand as they strolled along the Thames River bank near the ancient Tower. Sebastian looked across at the impressive structure of Tower Bridge. "Its quite something, isn't it?"

MC snuggled against him in the morning chill. "Yes, and no. Nothing will ever compare to Hogwarts in my eyes. I will never forget the first time that I saw it, magnificent against the sky. I had no idea just how much was in store for me."

"So many memories of our time there," he said. He kissed her forehead, frowning in thought. "You know, I'm feeling a little nostalgic."

"You are?" She gave him a curious smile.

"Ive got an idea," he said grinning.

He dragged her to the nearest Floo network portal and, giggling like children, they spirited off to the beautiful landscape of the Scottish Highlands. Hogsmeade, to be exact. Arm in arm, they strolled the cobbled streets they knew so well, bought sugary treats in Honeydukes, and ended up in the Three Broomsticks. They sat at their table, their hands entwined on top of his thigh, sipping at their Butterbeers.

"Its good to see you both," Sirona said. "How is married life treating you?"

They exchanged a look, the kind that two people deeply in love share, intimate secrets in their eyes that only they understood.

"Actually, dont answer that," Sirona said with a grin. "Its written plain as day on your faces, and I for one, am happy to see it. I remember the day you both burst in here after the troll attack, and I could see the spark between you even then. It did not surprise me when you finally married."

They ate at the Three Broomsticks, catching up some more with Sirona, before heading back out, wandering their way down the familiar path towards Hogwarts. MC sighed with pleasure at the sight, the sky clear in the brisk air, no smog or bustling city life to distract from the beauty.

"I remember every moment you know," he said. "Every adventure, every time you knocked me on my arse in Crossed Wands."

She giggled. "Sneaking out at night to the kitchens or the library," she added. She gripped his arm tighter. "We used to take so many risks."

"It was worth it though, right?" He paused to look down at her. "No regrets?"

She thought for a moment. "There are some darker memories, of course. It wasn't always perfect, but I have no regrets." She took hold of his upper arms, the breeze sending tendrils of hair across her face. She looked up at him, her love. "Every moment brought me closer to you, without the dark we would have never found our light. I remember our first kiss, in that very castle, I remember telling our friends that we were courting and how supportive they were. So many beautiful memories and all of them have you by my side. How could I regret any of that?"

Sebastian's eyes had turned glassy as she spoke, he swallowed, his face thoughtful as he gazed across towards the castle. His voice was raw when he next spoke. "Are you happy in London, MC?"

"I'm happy to be wherever you are," she said immediately.

A smile ghosted across his lips but he remained serious. "I mean, is it the right place for us? The way you speak of this place, it sounds like home. Earlier, in Hogsmeade, it just felt right, nothing like London. It just felt like..."

"Home," she said softly. She gazed at the castle now and smiled softly. "Hogwarts was the first time I felt truly accepted as me, and it brought me to you. It has given me so much to be thankful for."

Sebastian held her face in his hands, the pad of his thumb sweeping across her cheek. "You look tired of late," he said. Worry shadowed his face. "Just last week you felt unwell, you were so pale. You have been different, and then this morning you said you felt tender. Are you in pain?"

She could see the fear creeping into his eyes, memories, dark memories of when Anne had been so sick. A lump formed in her throat. How could she have thought that he would not notice these things about her? He had always been so protective, so attentive.

" Oh Sebastian, please, do not fear. I am not in pain, I promise you, in fact, far from it." She reached into her enchanted bag, rummaging about until she found a small package wrapped in brown paper, a silk, green ribbon tied about it. "I have been waiting to give you this, I was saving it for a special moment, but perhaps here where it all began for us is the perfect place."

She held out the box and he noted the tremble in her fingers. His stomach clenched as he took it, the worry refusing to leave. He stared at the cute package wondering what she had given him. At her urging, he tugged the ribbon free and tore at the paper. A smooth white box with a lid was inside, and when he lifted the lid, white tissue paper covered the gift. She bit her lower lip as he pushed aside the tissue paper, her eyes fixed on his face to see his reaction.

He frowned in confusion, his fingers hesitating to pick up what lay nestled in the tissue paper. MC held her breath, hands clasped tightly together. "What..." He stopped speaking, fingers lifting out the little bonnet in deepest green velvet, so soft and delicate. Beneath it in the box were a matching pair of little booties, a silver snake embroidered on the tops of each one. His eyes lifted to hers, wide, not daring to believe what he held in his hand. Surely his heart had stopped, there was no air to breathe. All that existed in that moment were her beautiful, beautiful eyes, and an infant's hat and booties in Slytherin colours. His lips parted but nothing came out. He tried again, but clearly, for the first time in his life he was rendered speechless.

MC placed her hands over her stomach. "Baby Sallow is due to be with us come Autumn," she said softly. "I have seen a doctor and he was happy with me, with us." She caressed her stomach with loving hands.

A shaky breath managed to escape Sebastian's lips. He hadn't moved. MC's bottom lip trembled and she brought her hands to his face, her fingers wiping tears from his cheeks that he hadn't even realised were falling. "You're...you're pregnant?"

She nodded. "I am."

He reached for her, crushing her to him and burying his face into her neck as he lifted her off her feet, the gift box and bonnet gripped tightly in his fingers at her back. A sob escaped him and she held him, stroking his hair, his back. "Are you alright?"

"There are no words," he said into her neck. "I love you. I love you so much it hurts."

He placed her gently back on his feet and moved back to stare at her stomach, a trembling hand reaching to press carefully against it. "I love both of you."

That night, they lay in each other's arms, hands exploring skin with gentle strokes and soft kisses. He held her so gently, his fingers constantly straying to where their child grew within her. He pressed his nose gently below her navel, light kisses peppering the skin. "I want our child to grow up knowing where he or she belongs, MC," he said. "They will have us, of course, but more than that, I want them to have what we missed out on."

"What do you mean?"

He moved to look into her eyes. "Let's go home, to Scotland. We can live there, near Hogwarts, near people who know us. Our child can grow there in clean air, free to be who they are away from this smog ridden, muggle life. What do you say?"

"I say, when do we leave?"