#Mildy dark reader

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

Sylphanie/Sylph

The awesome @sammys-magical-au is almost always my go-to for brainstorming, whether it's for characters, plots, descriptions, etc. And it seems they were kind enough to remember one of the much more obscure fanegos I've been quietly working on for a while now. Kind enough to even mention her in one of their latest fics!

And that basically kicked certain parts of my brain into gear, so...here we go! I've currently got yet another WIP cooking up, so I figured I should do some clarifying before it's ready for posting.

Much like Caliban and R.D., this uncanny lady is a partner to LeviathanPat! Or...partner-adjacent? As you'll soon see, things are rather complicated. (Go figure, I'm the writer behind aforementioned things, lol)

Although she isn't bound by standard entry rules like L.P. is, she still has her fair share of limitations. The biggest one being that she can only stay on certain planes of existence (such as Earth, for example) for short amounts of time, whereas L.P. can come and go as he pleases.

She may not be as morbid or aggressive as L.P., but it would be a grave mistake to see that as weakness. In fact, she's actually one of very few entities who have a little more power than he does. As for what exactly her power includes...well, you'll just have to wait and see~

She's one of very few entities who can call L.P. by his true name (only half of which is pronounceable by the human tongue, hence why Sol just calls him "Pat").

To say that Sylph and L.P. go way, waaaaay back would be an understatement. (Yes, that was technically a pun. No, I'm not sorry.) The feelings on either side are mutual, though certain views and methods are...not. Admittedly, Sylph sees humans in a way similar to how humans see insects. Little creatures that are sometimes interesting and mildy-entertaining...but not much else. Still, that doesn't mean she condones putting them through twisted experiments just to see what happens to them, L.P.

Now, I wouldn't be me if I didn't pile on the angst, so...While the two of them are on a very similar creature-caliber, Sylph and L.P.'s natures are just so antithetical to each other that they can only afford to be in each other's presence for a limited amount of time. Granted, they can gradually adjust to get closer and make physical contact, but even that is a slow-moving process. In fact, a huge part of their relationship revolved around the two of them searching for a way to overcome this. Unfortunately, surreal shenanigans ended up happening, which ultimately led to...The Incident. Ever since then, they haven't really had a chance to see each other...which just might change in the future. Hint-hint. (Please just be patient with me. Writing is hard, okay?)

Where L.P.'s form relates to darkness, Sylph's form relates to light. That is all...No, actually, I lied. That is NOT all. I'm talking bioluminescence plus-plus. I'm talking so bright it's legitimately kinda painful for mortal eyes to try looking at.

Then again, that light is mainly produced by her internal organs. Some of it sort of functions as her hair, and some of it does leak out into the world through her eyes. And by "eyes" I mean, "a scattering of holes in her skin that can stretch to be wider/longer or even move along as she pleases." (much like L.P., she often has way too many of them).

In fact...for the readers who have watched Jordan Peele's NOPE (and for everyone who hasn't...WHY?! IT'S SUCH AN AMAZING MOVIE! GET OUTTA HERE AND GO WATCH IT NOW!): remember the forms Jean Jacket took in the ending scenes? Well, I'm not saying that Sylph looks exactly like that, because I don't want to plagiarize...but that doesn't mean I can't take inspiration from it.

So, just imagine Sylph's outer skin behaving in sort of a similar way to Jean Jacket's. It can resemble all manner of things from jellyfish to orchid flowers to sheets of billowing cloth. Layers of it basically orbit around all the light she produces, all working together to form a vaguely human-esque shape. Not only that, but her skin also has a sort of opalescent effect to it. It can reflect hints of a variety of colors beyond the bright, pale glow of her internal system.

I usually apologize for rambling...but not today, because it took so much time and patience and experimenting to come up with a description that would be pretty and unsettling at the same time. Thanks again for all your help, Sammy 💞)

Because of that orbiting effect I mentioned, Sylph is also capable of shapeshifting much like L.P. is. The main difference is the fact that Sylph's form technically has visible structure, whereas L.P. is basically a moving, talking void no matter what shape he takes.

@insane4fandoms @inkbedou @the-matpat-ever @b-is-in-the-closet

[bri-the-nautilus]

WIP tag game

@fairygreatbow and @the-unkindled-queen thank you guys for tagging me!!!

RULES: Reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

Public WIPs

[Elden Ring] Unnatural Born: Astel does a magical girl transformation and fights aliens in a post-main quest world.

[Dark Souls/Dark Souls II] Sinner's Rise: Lost Sinner fic, starting with her time in Izalith as a daughter of the Witch laboring to create the Chaos Flame. Calamity and imprisonment ensue, after which comes some sapphic hurt/comfort and the gang fighting demons.

[Elden Ring] Dancing with Dragons: mildy gay very gay Eleonora x reader headcanons and shorts

Unpublished WIPs

[Elden Ring] Untitled: Roundtable fic featuring Gideon, Seluvis, and Dolores. How they met and fell out. Mostly centered around Gideon getting his spy ring off the ground with some help from Seluvis. Alberich, Ensha, Henricus, and the rest of Gideon's henchmen will all have roles to play.

[Elden Ring] Recusants: I go back and forth on if I'll ever end up publishing this. It's a Volcano Manor fic featuring a bunch of my Recusant OCs from Luminaries/UB. All the sin and vice you can use, because Volcano Manor.

From the posts that have crossed my dash I get the sense that most of the people I know have already been tagged in this, so I'll just leave this as an open invitation for whoever wants to!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THE PAINT DOESN’T MOVE THE WAY THE LIGHT REFLECTS ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; when the king puts you under the supervision of a dashing knight, you promise to make his job as difficult as possible. unfortunately, suguru geto is the patient sort.

word count; 21.1k (this accidentally turned into a novella idk how it happened either nobody look at me 💔)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (mainly addressed as ’my lord/liege’), knight!sugu x royalty!reader, royalty au (not accurate to any time period ever), technically a bodyguard au, slowburn, reader is a brat and suguru likes it a little more than he should, reader also has thinly veiled daddy issues, protective sugu <3, descriptions of violence and bloodshed in one part (it’s not that bad!), very fluffy overall, mountains of thinly-veiled devotion; includes shifting povs & time-skips.

a/n; HAPPY late BDAY SUGU MY BABY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE this fic has been in the works for a WHILE now and means a lot to me much like sugu himself :’3 dedicated to my beloved @kissxcore for infecting me w this concept & also my dear @mossmurdock for bringing knight!sugu into my life, both of u have made the brainrot infinitely worse and i will never be free (and ofc @softgirlgonehaywire & @dollsuguru & @jtkys for being the sweetest always) I LOVE U ALL!!!!!!!!

like most things, it begins and ends with a dream.

images form in the depths of your subconscious, wild and vivid, splattering on the canvas of your mind. a dream of cold metal, dark thickets, iron-scented skin — and a knight. 

(or… a wolf?)

before you is a small clearing. trees sprout from the rugged grounds, blooming proudly, clogging up the wool-coated sky. all around you lie empty, discarded suits of armor, dirty with rust and something that smells of death. wilted sunflowers stumble under their own weight, and dragonflies buzz in a frenzy, manic, driven to hysteria. in the distance you think you hear the shrieking of ravens.

and there’s a knight, just ahead, tall and imposing, covered in steel from head to toe. holding a blinding sword, facing the sky, doing nothing to stop the pitter patter of raindrops ricocheting off his burganet. you stand by the entrance of the woods, and watch him in silence. 

he looks a little lonely. 

and in comes the wolf. gracious, growling, big and bad, snarling and showing off the white of its fangs. dragging its claws against the ground, unruly fur ruffled by the harsh breeze; widening its maw, a silent fury on its tongue. from this angle, it looks a little like a grin.

the wolf begins to chase the knight. or maybe it’s the knight chasing the wolf — you can’t really tell. they run in circles around each other, like the sun and the moon, an orbit of violence, matching their steps. almost in harmony — almost, but not quite, because suddenly they’re closing in on you, great and ugly, beasts wearing different hides, and —

and that’s when you wake up.

”your highness!” 

a groan pushes past your lips, groggy with fatigue, and your eyelids flicker open like the drawing of a flimsy curtain. a series of mismatched little blinks, until your vision clears. 

above you waits a familiar face. impatient. one of the maids, your foggy brain tells you — and she isn’t pleased. but all you do is drag your limbs up to cover your pillow-creased face, sluggishly, muttering beneath your breath.

”a wolf…”

silence. 

the maid tilts her head, with a furrow of her brows. 

”… excuse me?”

”there was a wolf,” you echo, a dreamy exhale muffled against the skin of your palm. stifling a yawn. ”and a guy… he was cool.” 

she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. settling back into her usual rhythm. mildy berating. ”did you have another one of your dreams?” she asks, a little irritated, and for a second you think you hear a tick-tock ticking down. ”at any rate — you need to get up. the king and queen demand your presence.”

ah. of course.

a huff, displeased, even as you force yourself into a sitting position. stretching your limbs like a grumpy feline. ”demands…” you murmur, a click of your tongue. ”they think they can just wake me up whenever they want? at the crack of dawn?”

”it’s 11 a.m, your highness.”

”early,” you rasp, letting your legs hang off the bed. ”what do they want, anyway?”

she gives out a hum, walking towards the edge of the room to pick up your discarded blouse. ”i was told it was of utmost importance,” is all she says, bringing it to you and letting you snatch it from her hands.

from your position, still cozied up in bed, on messy sheets and fluffy pillows — you have a clear view of the world beyond your window. a sky so gray it’s almost comforting, dark clouds forming in the distance. when the maid pushes it open, and a cold breeze slips through, you can smell the rain. heavy, earthy, daffodils and oak wood. in the distance, sunflower fields seek shelter from the downpour. 

but your eyes remain glued to the woods. far ahead, but still close enough to see — the woods you long for. the ones you’ll never get to see up close. 

a bitter taste blooms on your tongue. 

(spitefully, your teeth sink into the tender flesh of your bottom lip.)

”fine,” comes a heavy sigh, ruefully resigned. forcing yourself into compliancy. before you can change your mind, you hop off the mattress, running your fingers through tousled strands of hair. ”i’ll go see them.”

and she brightens. visibly, disapproving frown smoothed away with the breeze — for now. ”thank you. they are worried, i’ll have you know.”

a scoff, as you cross the threshold of your private quarters. laced with humour. ”i bet they are.” 

”your highness,” she calls, following close behind. her tone is reprimanding, now. you will yourself not to shrink. ”we almost lost you.”

”i almost got kidnapped,” you huff. ”not the same thing.”

again, that exasperated sigh. it’s a wonder her lungs haven’t run out of air.

”do you have any idea who that man was?” 

the question makes your mind still. shifting gears, a clockwork coming to life, repeating it inside your head — do you have any idea who that man was? 

”… he was hot.”

a sigh. the loudest one yet. you hear it before it comes, and raise your lips on instinct. 

”no, i mean it!” you ensure her, throwing a fleeting glance behind you. ”he just had that rugged look about him, you know? the scar and everything…” a blissful little exhale, as you gush over your would-be killer. ”what a waste. if only he had gotten away.”

”with you in tow?” the maid quips, raising a brow. her words are steeped in irony.

”of course!” another disapproving glance. ”i mean, did you see those biceps —”

”behave.”

with a flutter of your puffy sleeves, you turn around to face her. and ah, there it is. the hardness of her jaw, those frosty pupils, the impending signs of her dwindling patience — you can see it, hear it, that eerie tick-tock signaling the breaching of her limit.

all humans have one. a clockwork heart, of sorts, ticking down to the moment they run out of leftover kindness to give unruly heirs. over the years, you’ve gotten expertly good at making the clock tick quicken. a skill you’re very proud of.

”and what if i don’t?” you bite back, just barely restraining your growing grin. delighted at the attention. ”he had nice biceps! what, am i not allowed to tell the truth?”

and the tick-tock quickens. she stills, just behind you, hands on her hips. frustration bubbling beneath sharp syllables. ”my god, you are impossible today!”

for a moment, you stop to look at her. weighing your options. should you reel it back in, try and appease her? or keep pushing?

the answer, as always, is push. it’s all you’ll ever do.

so you turn on your heel, and take a step forward, a spiteful grin curved into your lips. ”deal with it, or leave.” a beat. ”i don’t remember asking you to accompany me.”

before you round the corner, your ears pick up on one final harsh sigh. she makes no move to follow you.

(hmph.)

”where is your maid?”

in front of you stands a throne, proud and luxurious, polished marble, two seats right next to each other. the quarters of the royal pair are the same as always, vivid paintings hanging from every wall in sight, wolf pelts thrown over tables and windowsills. the scent of dried lavender seeps through the air, suffocating you. 

and, of course, the king. speaking to you with the same judgemental voice as always; one you’ve grown painfully accustomed to. 

”i wanted her to get me breakfast,” is the lie you decide on, finely tailored in white. just to make sure she doesn’t get into any actual trouble. ”you didn’t exactly give me time to eat any.”

the king sighs, mild disappointment laced into the breath. nothing new. when he says your name, it comes out sounding like a bad joke. ” — you aren’t a child anymore. one day you’ll be ruling this kingdom; forcing the maids to do your bidding won’t win you any favours.” 

”mhm.” absently, you fidget with the sleeves of your blouse. not quite listening. ”so, what did you want? it’s not often i’m allowed here.”

an evil glint shines in your eyes, for a moment. you cast a meaningful glance at the maid by your father’s side — his personal favorite. 

”don’t you have, ah…” you taste the words on your tongue. ”more pressing matters to attend to?”

he doesn’t flinch. as always, he pretends not to know that you know — that everyone knows. 

yet he still gives you that cold, cold look, colder than the howls of wind beyond the castle walls, cold enough to send a shiver down your spine. it makes you want to push, push, push. break the clockwork in half.

but he’s wise enough to follow your lead. “let me get to the point, then,” he cranes his neck, showing off the fox pelt snug around his shoulders. ”the queen and i thought it best to hire a new knight for you.”

you blink. eyelashes fluttering. all you can hear is the pitter patter of rain against the windowpane. 

then you groan.

”another one?” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet on the floor. ”please, no. it’s such a pain getting rid of them. you know they won’t last long!”

”we aren’t talking about any ordinary knight,” he tuts, as monotone as ever. ignoring your little temper tantrum. ”after what happened with toji zenin, we aren’t taking any chances.”

you tilt your head. confused, for a moment. ”toji?” the gears of your mind turn, clicking into place; zenin. a family of assassins, a man with a scar on his bottom lip. ”ohhh — the hottie.”

your father pretends not to hear you. 

”it was a close call,” he hums, and you muster the strength not to crack another joke about his biceps. it takes restraint. ”we need someone who can protect you properly. indefinitely, from even the stealthiest of assassins. so…”

your eyes meet his. gazes overlapping, the same colour, one above and one below. he’s always, always towered over you. for as long as you remember. 

that is what royalty means — absolute dominion. 

(it makes you want to curl into a ball.)

”today, you’ll be meeting with the greatest knight.” he says the words with an odd sense of pride, an inner satisfaction. ”he’ll be here any moment. i thought it best for you to get acquainted as soon as possible.”

a moment passes. you’re broken out of your bout of compliance, like a rubber band snapping. a clock tick quickening. ”wait, what?” you gape. ”father —”

”your majesty.” 

…

the correction is stern. gritting your teeth, you force the words from out your throat. ”… your majesty,” there’s a slight grumble to your voice, ”what the hell? now? i haven’t even —”

”you have no choice in this matter,” he cuts you off. coldly, coldly, coldly. ”behave, and there won’t be any complications.”

behave.

behave, behave, behave. it’s all they ever want from you.

(you might as well be a pet.)

the queen is silent, as always. eerily so, not saying a word, like a puppet on a string. she hasn’t looked you in the eye even once so far, not even a passing glance. not like you’d expect her to. her clockwork heart stopped beating for you a long time ago. 

automatons, the both of them. making decisions for you, like there isn’t a sliver of rational thought in your brain. how irritating.

you’re just about to part your lips, when —

”… am i interrupting?”

you still.

a velvety voice. silky, smooth, tailored by the finest seamstress — tucked between the slightest raspy vowel, a hint of something deeper. it sounds like honey, wine, a molten mass of spring clouds. 

the king ahead of you brightens, suddenly, lips curling up into a smile. it looks almost warm; you didn’t know he was capable of making that kind of expression. ”ah, suguru!” he calls out to the source of the noise. ”no, certainly not. forgive me for the short notice.”

when you turn around, you see a knight.

he’s beautiful. gorgeous, even. fair skin, sharp facial features, no scars to be seen. a sword hangs in a scabbard by his hip, and he’s wearing a set of armor, still glistening with the aftermaths of the rain beating down outside. his hair cascades down the metal like a black river, loose and silky, a single strand obscuring his pretty face. and his eyes are a soothing shade of brown; you’re almost certain they’d look warm, if there was any sunlight to engulf them. as it is, in the shadow of a murky spring morning, they’re a dark cedar, almost obsidian. but they look kind. 

and they’re fixed on the king. he’s smiling, too, a dangerous little tilt. disgustingly charming. he hangs his head in a bow, hand on his heart — reverent.

(ah. he’s one of those knights.)

”my king,” the strange knight greets, tongue wrapping around the vowels like a dragon curling around a pile of gold. ”not at all. i’m always grateful for an opportunity to see you.”

(oh god. it’s even worse than you thought.)

”i should say the same of you,” the king echoes, with a warmth that you’re wholly unaccustomed to. your stomach churns, swirling with discomfort. ”our nation’s pride and joy.”

the knight chuckles; muffled by his closed fist. he’s feigning embarrassment, you can tell. ”you flatter me,” he purrs, words flowing smoothly from his lips. too smoothly. ”i’m simply doing my duty as one of your subjects. though, needless to say — i’m honoured to have earned your respect.”

finally, his gaze shifts to you. and you think he must notice how disgusted you are, the reproach you feel for him, that silent contempt. because you aren’t trying to hide it; it’s there, clear as day, in the crease of your brow, your frosty pupils. lips pursed, like they’re aching to bare and to bite.

but he continues to smile. warm, still, like a mellow summer breeze. a well of pizzicato drops.

you feel a little nauseous.

”ah, and you must be the royal heir?” a tilt of his head, knowing. a shimmer of recognition painted in those ashen eyes. ”or should i say…. my liege.” 

he walks towards you, in long strides, slow and steady, only to get down on one knee. ew.

”forgive me. my name is suguru geto — your knight, from this day forth.” his palm unfurls, cedar eyes crinkling with feigned endearment. holding it out towards the subject of his newfound devotion. ”i’m delighted to finally meet you.”

(suguru geto.

you’ve heard of him, of course. who hasn’t?)

his hand stills in the air, waiting patiently for yours. waiting to bring it to his glossy lips. but you don’t do anything — nothing, other than to study his smile, picture perfect, tailor-made, sweet enough to melt on your tongue. so sweet you know it must be at least a little bit fake — the smile of a liar. 

it’s a smile you know well.

so you mimic it, a bitter glint in your eyes, only for your hands to retreat to your pockets. and out comes a purr. ”you’re a bad actor.”

silence. the knight doesn’t flinch, not even close, but he blinks, a flutter of his dark eyelashes. like a raven taking flight. that everlasting smile never falters, but for just a second, a clock-tick or two, you swear you catch the slightest hint of something flickering through his keen iris.

interest?

”forgive them, suguru,” the king is quick to chip in, finally stepping down from his throne to join you on the floor. the queen doesn’t move, but she gives suguru a fond smile, and it makes your grimace deepen. ”they woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning. and they’re a bit of a problem child — i’m sure you’ve heard.”

that makes you snicker, silently. maybe just a little bit smug. you’re sure it must be a headache for him to deal with.

”i can’t say i haven’t,” suguru chuckles, raising himself up from the marble floor. your smile falls. ”but it’s not an issue. i understand.”

he looks at you, really looks at you, and you give him an unimpressed stare. wholly disinterested. trying not to squirm under his scrutiny. 

”i’m sure it must feel suffocating — being under this kind of supervision.” he gives you a tilt of his head, strands of charcoal following the movement. smooth, like a waltz, one you didn’t agree to. ”isn’t it?”

ah. the sympathy card.

before you can answer, he bows; hand on his heart. knights and their rituals. ”i’m at your service, my liege. if i make you uncomfortable, at any point, just tell me.” once more, he meets your gaze, a sincerity in his own — reserved just for you. ”really.”

… ugh.

to your right comes a pleased voice, deep and satisfied, as self-affirming as ever. ”i knew i could entrust them to you,” the king speaks, placing a palm on your shoulder. you try not to flinch. ”aren’t you grateful? this handsome, kind man is all yours.”

a sharp scoff is all you can muster, nails digging into the skin of your palm. but suguru only chuckles, good-natured.

they continue to speak, about this and that. you tune out most of it, caught up in preparing for the long headache ahead. sure, you’re an expert at getting knights to quit, but it takes time. weeks, sometimes, just to make them finally crack, push and push until their patience reaches its limit. and suguru seems resilient. more than anything, he seems thoroughly loyal to the king; that really doesn’t bode well for you.

before you can formulate a step-by-step guide to making his job a living hell, the sound of your name snaps you out of your trance.

it’s the king, of course, as always. you hate that you still instinctively respond to his call. like an obedient puppy. ”show suguru to your quarters. he’ll be accompanying you indefinitely, from now on. don't give him any trouble.” his voice finally sounds cold again; a warning. ”i’ll hear about it.”

(indefinitely.)

a moment passes. then you sigh, deep and heavy, haphazardly hiding a roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah,” you cross your arms. ”i got it.”

suguru meets your furrowed brows with something gentle, a soothing little smile. offering his arm, for you to hold on to. knights and their rituals. ”shall we?”

but you brush past him. stubborn in your independence, in your desire to make this as discomforting for him as it is for you. ”follow me,” is all you say, a dissatisfied huff. loud enough to pick up on.

to your great displeasure, he matches your hurried pace. side by side, as you walk down the halls, the clicking of his shoes echoing against the marble. a shadow you can’t shine away; one that’ll stay with you indefinitely. you feel his gaze burn into you.

”my lord.”

”don’t talk to me,” you sigh, sharp like the sword by his hip. a low click of your tongue. ”just so you know, i didn’t agree to this.”

”that was my question, actually,” he grins, ever so slightly. fingertips tapping against his scabbard. ”i am sorry, you know. i meant what i said — i’m sure it’s difficult for you.” he casts you another one of those meaningful glances, a meaning you have no intention of discerning. ”but i have my orders.”

you bite back a laugh. ”you guys love those, huh?” when you turn your head to face him, still walking forward, he’s met with a taunting smirk. ”your little orders.”

but his smile doesn’t falter. damn.

”not a fan of knights?” he asks, instead, a playful lilt to his syrupy voice. coaxing, accommodating. infuriating.

”nope.” your footsteps quicken — but he keeps up, effortlessly. curse those abnormally long legs. ”you’re all just bootlickers. especially you.”

”oh?”

”don’t oh? me,” you snap, practically growling, ”like you weren’t seconds away from making out with the king back there. it’s all so fake.” the comment makes the corners of his lip quirk up, but you don’t turn around to see it. ”now that you’re alone with me, you’re already acting way less uptight, see?”

he hums. ”i figured it’d make you feel more at ease.”

”god, will you just cut it out?” a hiss breaks out of your throat, sharp and exasperated. tired, drained. you just want to go back to sleep. ”quit acting like you care about what i think. you’ll do whatever the king asks of you — that’s all you really care about.”

suguru stays silent, this time. matching your steps, observing you silently, out of the corner of his eye. the frown on your lips, the crease between your brows. etching them into his memory. you’re pissed, that much he can tell. and you definitely, definitely don’t like him. 

(”you’re a bad actor.”)

the knight comes to a standstill. parting his lips, enough for his voice to flow through, silken sheets and molten honey. a raspy tilt he tries his best to hide.

but his words carry a sincerity he could never fake. 

”from now on, i serve you.”

when the clicking of his shoes against cold marble flooring fades away, you halt. turning around, hesitantly, quirking a questioning brow. rain beats on beyond the window to your left, flicking against the glass, droplets clinging to the translucent surface. marigold petals kiss the windows in a flurry of cream and orange, fluttering about with the harsh bites of the wind, carried from the castle’s orchard. the endless hallway you find yourselves in smells of rainwater and spring.

suguru looks steadfast, where he’s standing, immovable. a little like a pillar of salt. when he speaks it sounds like he’s reciting a scripture.

”i’m loyal to the king. i have to follow his orders.” there’s something about his words that you can’t quite pinpoint. is it guilt or pride? ”but i am at your service. certain things are set in stone, but not others. i’ll let you decide how this goes.”

the hallway goes silent. he smiles, again, smaller this time. somehow more genuine.

”from now on, i’m your knight.” the pitter patter of rain mashes with the steady beating of a clock; rhythmic, soothing, a lullaby of rust and time. ”that’s all. i won’t be anything else.”

you stare. lips pursed, awaiting a clarification, but it doesn’t come. he’s giving you time to respond.

(he’s your knight, now. indefinitely yours.)

an inhale. the clock hands of your heart begin to move. ”in that case,” you exhale, lips curling up into a taunting smile. pleased with yourself. ”i promise to be the most insufferable lord a knight has ever had. i won’t make your job easy for you.”

and suguru only chuckles. raspy, like the bark of a tree, claw marks on the ground. ”good,” he grins, eyes rich with mirth, golden pears hanging off the branches. ”i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

he looks sincere. sounds sincere. all you do is blink, a sense of frustration nibbling at your heart, but the knight before you doesn’t falter. he only offers his arm to you, once more; a silent step towards reconciliation.

you watch him, silently. 

then you’re turning on your heel, swiftly, a low grumble at the base of your throat. ignoring him and his offer, walking towards your room with irritated steps that fade as you turn the corner.

behind you, suguru’s smile only grows.

”good morning, your highness.”

blinking sleepily, still regaining your ability to form coherent thoughts, all you can do is stare. studying the figure above you, towering over your half-asleep form, the deadpan expression on your face.

black hair, and amber eyes. a disgustingly charming smile. 

the gears of your mind finally click into place.

a whine flows from your lips, meek and disapproving, and you roll over to your side. pulling the covers over your head, as if to protect you from the existence of your newly hired knight. so it wasn’t just a bad dream.

but he doesn’t fade away, like an apparition. he stays right by your bed, crouching down next to it. you feel the weight of the mattress shift when he rests his elbow on the cushion. ”still too early?” he asks, soft enough not to grate your sensitive ears. ”i was told you usually get up around this time…”

a muffled groan. ”leave.”

”i’m afraid i can’t,” he hums, but you don’t sense much remorse. ”i’m not supposed to let you out of my sight for more than brief intervals at a time… that’s one thing i can’t compromise on.”

”i don’t care,” you whine, petulant. tightening your grip on the blanket surrounding you, desperate to savour the leftovers of your fuzzy dreams. ”’m not getting up…”

a click of his tongue. quiet, contemplative. until he decides on a course of action.

”would you like me to bring you breakfast, then?”

…

slowly, your eyes flicker open, consciousness beginning to stir. the tasty temptation rouses you from your half-slumber, ever so slightly; because he sounds sincere. he sounds like he really will bring you breakfast, if you just give him the order. 

it’s tempting. dangerously so. 

(how long has it been since one of the maids actually bothered to serve you breakfast?)

”… whatever,” you croak, finally. weighing the value of your own response — putting effort into not sounding too excited. ”sure. do what you want, just let me sleep.”

a relieved little breath slips from suguru’s lips, as he watches the lump under the blanket stir. ”alright,” he breathes. ”what would you like, my lord?”

(suddenly, you get an idea.)

a smug grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief on your mind. ”figure it out yourself,” you chirp, awfully pleased. 

silence. 

then, you hear him hum — rising to his feet with a quiet groan. ”understood,” he quips. ”i’ll be back as soon as possible, your highness.”

when you hear the creaking of the door, as he steps over the threshold, you barely restrain the urge to kick your legs in victory. now he’s sure to get you the wrong breakfast; and then you can be as difficult as you please, demanding something else, over and over. an ungrateful, spoiled little brat.

that’ll definitely make him quit. 

— sadly, it seems you were underestimating him. just a tiny, tiny bit.

before you, on a silver tray, lays a wide variety of breakfast foods. everything from syrupy pancakes and buttery croissants to neatly cut sandwiches and porridge, slices of fruit and fresh lemonade, coffee with cream and sugar, tiny jars of marmalade and jam. sparkling, glittering, begging to be devoured. handmade, you can tell, meticulously crafted by someone who knows what they’re doing.

with a gulp, you attempt not to openly salivate — you had no clue the kitchen workers were this talented. too speechless to muster up even a sneer, all you can do it sit in silence.

he really went ahead and got you some of everything.

stumbling for the right words, any words, the only thing that escapes your throat is a meek huff. meant to sound displeased, but coming out just a little awestruck. ”this is… way, way too much. are you insane?”

he only shrugs. a sweet smile on his lips, sharp jaw resting on the heel of his palm. ”well, you wouldn’t give me any specifics,” he reminds you, a bit too smug for your liking. ”just eat what you like. i’ll keep your preferences in mind.”

you want to protest, want to put up a fight. want to resist his charms, his little peace offering.

but your stomach growls, suddenly. loud enough that you’re sure he hears it, but you don’t turn around to see any silent laughter — just picking up the fork, embarrassed, eager to just get rid of the ache in your gut. eager to get a taste of the delicacies in front of you. with hesitance, you cut into one of the fluffy pancakes, slathered with syrup, trying to ignore his expectant gaze. biting into it with your eyes closed.

when the sweet taste curls around your tongue, you physically feel yourself perk up. letting your eyes flutter open, your eyebrows raised, a sweetness that makes you sit up straighter. it practically melts in your mouth, honeyed and buttery, and it takes all your willpower to withhold a blissed out little sigh. 

it must be evident, on your features. because suguru sounds amused when he asks; ”good?”

”... better than usual, i guess.”

despite your half-assed attempt at hiding how pleased you are, his ever-present smile extends. ”oh, really?” he leans back in his chair, right next to the bed. exhaling in relief. ”i’m glad. i was worried my cooking wouldn’t be to your tastes.”

…

you pale.

silently, both awestruck and horrified, you look up to meet his teasing gaze. ”wait. you…” a pause. silent, palpable, dreading his answer. ”… made this?” 

”yes.”

another pause. 

”… like. all of it?”

”mhm.”

your gaze falls down to seek solace in your lap. avoiding his own, biting down on your lip, not quite enough to sting. fuck — you accidentally complimented his handmade breakfast. not off to a great start.

wallowing in your silent loss, you simply dig in; desperate to savour it, despite the lingering taste of failure on your tongue. once you’ve sipped the last of your coffee, foamy and rich, the knight to your right speaks up.

”so, your highness,” he begins. tactful, careful. clearing his throat. ”now that you’ve woken up a bit… and, forgive me if i’m overstepping, but —” he searches for your guarded gaze, playing with the beginnings of a smile. ”i was thinking it’d be good for us to get to know each other better.”

”ugh.”

a chuckle — seriously, does nothing offend this man? — flits past his lips. ”oh, don’t be like that, your highness. don’t you think it —”

”cut it out.” you shoot him a glare, voice set to a shivering tilt. ”stop acting like some perfect servant. it’s so obvious you’re playing it up.” a tiny huff, as you pop an apple slice into your mouth. ”makes me sick.”

”… right. you called my acting bad, before.”

”it is,” you nod, a mocking imitation on your tongue. eyes fluttering shut as you bring a hand to your chest. ”oooh, look at me, i’m so humble and loyal! why, of course i don’t mind being summoned with no prior notice! would you like me to lick your shoes, my sweet king?”

and, honestly, you expect him to get at least a little bit angry. the last guy certainly was.

but suguru laughs, suddenly, from the bottom of his gut — a genuine sound. sunshine spilling from his lips, amusement laced together with the octaves. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, like the leaves of a golden ginkgo tree. ”okay, okay,” he puts his hands up, as if readying for a smooth surrender. still amused. ”i’ll try to be more… unguarded, then. would that satisfy you?”

you give him a look. 

he returns it with a smile. ”i’ll take that as a yes,” is all he croons, reaching a hand out. it hangs still in the air, waiting patiently for a response. a familiar sight.

you blink. looking at it, silently, as if trying to solve a puzzle in the pattern of his fingertips. 

then you sigh. ”for the last time, i’m not letting you kiss my hand, you —”

”a handshake,” he cuts you off. soft, reassuring, a tilt of his head; awfully charming. ”no kissing involved.”

a handshake.

(come to think of it, you don’t think anyone’s ever tried to shake your hand before. it’s something you see other people do; maids, knights, butlers. people on equal ground with each other.)

after a moment of silence, you avert your gaze. there’s a slight, slight flush to your cheeks, one you hope stays hidden from his keen eyes. you grumble, intent on not appeasing him.

”… i’m not shaking your hand, either.”

suguru quirks a brow, smile yet to fall, waiting a few moments more until he gives in. ”you are difficult,” he chuckles, and it sounds almost pleased. ”kento was right.”

kento? now, why does that sound familiar…? 

”— but that’s okay. i look forward to getting to know you better, either way.” his hand retreats to his lap, pliant. ”eventually.”

”that’s not happening.”

”oh?” you swear that smile of his grows, just a little. a man who enjoys a good challenge. humming, closing his eyes for a brief second, switching tactics as if shifting gears. ”then, tell me — is there anything you’d like to know about me?”

hell no, is what you want to say. and you almost, almost do. eager to move one step ahead of him, stubborn in your desire to scare him off.

but then you remember the tale.

so you still, ever so slightly, and suguru leans forward. by a hair— noticing your expression, maybe — the curiosity simmering in your veins. it seeps out, little by little, and even though you know you shouldn’t —

you just can’t resist the temptation to ask…

”… is it true?”

he tilts his head.

”the … you know.” you move your hands, a bit, as if hoping they’ll say the words for you. they don’t. ”your sword. did you really…” a pause, as your eager gaze trails down to his hip, the scabbard attached to his belt. and then a gulp. ”… pull it out of a stone?”

a series of silent blinks. then suguru chuckles — dripping with fresh amusement, a glimmer of teeth behind his lips. ”oh, so you’ve heard?”

and, like a pair of shooting stars, your eyes flicker over to meet his. almost gleaming with newfound excitement, a little erratic. ”is — is it true?”

”it’s an old folktale,” he’s quick to intercept. ”gets told about basically every great knight… or, what the public deems as great, anyhow.”

(ah. the humble facade slipped away.)

in a matter of seconds, you deflate, slumping back until your spine meets the headboard. sulking silently. ”so you didn't pull your sword out of a rock?” you huff, mood souring again, a lemony flavour in your veins. ”lame.”

”stone,” he corrects, unperturbed. ”and i'm afraid not.” he gives you another one of his placating smiles, barely concealed amusement swimming in his amber eyes. ”i pulled mine from an oak tree.”

…

”wait, really?”

the gleam in your eyes is back. suguru almost, almost feels bad.

”depends,” he shoots you a lazy grin. ”how gullible are you, my lord?”

(... oh. he was teasing you.)

an embarrassed heat crawls up your neck, rooting itself into the column of your throat, and all you can do to distract him from it is to scoff. sharply, as if hoping just the sound will be enough to cut into his smooth skin. ”whatever.”

suguru continues to smile, crows’ feet by his eyes, something deliberate in his silent stare. so you stumble for something, anything to say.

”also, can you quit the my lord stuff?” you settle on, taking a shallow sip of the lemonade. sour and sweet, nice and chilled on your tongue. ”it’s creepy.”

he blinks. a flutter of his dark lashes, fingers tapping at his bended knee. he looks contemplative, for a moment. ”does it make you uncomfortable?” he asks, tilting his head. ”i can stick to my liege, if that’s better. just say the word.” 

”god, you’re so annoying,” you groan, licking the lemony residue off your lips. ”just use my name.”

suddenly, suguru stills. fingertips frozen, for a moment, no longer tapping at his thigh. he traps his bottom lip between his teeth, a hesitant hum crawling up the confines of his throat. 

”that….” he trails off, thumb absentmindedly smoothing over the leather of his scabbard. ”seems a little much.”

when you turn to look at him, he seems a little put off. uncomfortable, maybe — or just caught off guard? it’s hard to get a read on him. for someone who smiles so often, his emotions don’t appear very bright.

a pang of something grasps onto your clockwork heart, and a frown pulls at your bottom lip. frustration gnawing at your veins. ”you’re here to service me, aren’t you?” you ask, with a shallow huff. ”just do as i say.”

”well, i still have my boundaries.” suguru leans back, crossing his legs, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. ”and, on paper — i’m only here to protect you. the servicing is my own choice.” 

a very, very judgemental look. he returns it with a tug of his lips. 

”… you really do like being ordered around, don’t you?”

suguru shrugs. playful. ”makes me feel needed,” he purrs, watching you wolf down the breakfast he made.

once you’ve had your fill, he’s quick to gather the silver tray in his steady arms, and you do your very best to hold back from thanking him for the meal. it aches a little, but you can’t give in — you don’t have a choice. you can’t allow yourself to be anything other than the most ungrateful, annoying royal in the kingdom.

anything to snap his clockwork heart in half.

a week passes by with no particular developments.

you try your damndest to bother him, but suguru is stubborn. stubborn enough that you’re starting to doubt he’ll ever leave you alone, no matter how much you ignore him, or hiss at him, or whine at him to make you an annoyingly specific assortment of breakfast foods. he never stops smiling, no matter how bothersome you’re being.

the tick-tock of his patience remains unbroken. 

(so for now, you figure you’ll just have to adjust.)

a sense of contentment simmers in the open air, when suguru knocks at your door, waiting for a groan and a grouchy come in. it takes you a few moments longer to respond than what he’s used to, and he notes that you sound a little less irritated when you do.

as he steps over the threshold, bowing his head instinctively, he’s met with the sight of you fully immersed. holding a paintbrush between your fingers, lifting it, movements delicate, self-assured. like it comes to you without thinking. you’re seated right by the window, enough for the would-be daylight to flicker in. as it stands, the weather is still sour. 

he walks up to you, as always, never more than a few steps away.

and, for a moment, all he does is watch you. silently, as you dip your brush in smeary cobalt paint, a splatter of colour on the white canvas. melting together with the indigo and obsidian. there’s a certain rhythm to it, a kind of dance between you and your mind and the painting in front of you — not even close to being finished. a dip of your brush blooms into a jaw, a flick of your wrist into a set of fangs. cobalt cream and silvery edges, an imitation of what you saw in your sleep. murky, blurry, a dream-like clearing in the woods. 

as you work, a sense of relaxation smooths along your sinuses. coaxing you into breathing out, into letting your clenched jaw rest for a while. turning all your irritation into brushstrokes. into a hungry, hungry wolf. 

finally, your knight opts to break the silence.

”you’re quite talented.” 

it’s an earnest comment. filled with respect, not the idle flattery you’re so used to. and despite yourself, you can’t help but grin — glowing a little beneath the praise. prideful, smug, almost giddy. he watches intently as your expression shifts, as those fleeting flickers of joy dance along the contours of your cheekbones. as you lap up his praise like the chamomile tea he served you this morning.

suguru smiles. you have a cute side, he thinks. for no more than a mere moment, he finally feels as if he’s getting somewhere; getting closer to breaking that thorny, thorny shell of yours. closer to meeting the little lamb beneath the wolf’s hide.

but your mind quickly catches up to your body, realizing that your lips are curled up into a pleased smile, and you clench your jaw again. mindful not to let him see it. painting makes you far too careless, too unguarded; you have to be mean.

stuck in a bout of frustration, you put a little too much force into the motion of your fingers, a small slip of the hand. but that’s all it takes. suddenly, the smooth, calm sea of fur on the canvas turns violent, a little more unruly, and you withhold a wince. doing your best to mend the damage. flick, flick, across the canvas, as if to appease the hungry wolf. 

from behind you, a tiny exhale. laced with a kind of stifled amusement, one that makes you snap your jaw in his direction. brows knitted in anger.

”what?”

suguru clears his throat. ”nothing, my liege,” he hides a smile behind his knuckle. eyes gliding across the murky smear of fangs and fur, interest piqued. ”i’m just curious… why a wolf?”

a huff. briefly, you consider ignoring him, but….

(something in his tone convinces you not to.)

”… i saw one,” you admit, absently, staring at the blue and gray of the canvas. flick, flick. violet, navy, a little more depth. ”in my dream.”

silence. your knight doesn’t respond. surely, he must think you childish; everyone else does. why would he be the exception? why did you tell him anything at all? a sense of regret mixes with the paint.

the weight of a brush in your hand truly does make you careless, doesn’t it?

”… huh.”

a clenching of teeth. you muster the will to turn your head, just to give him a questioning look, a silent aggression. biting before he can. but he’s not looking at you; he’s looking at the painting, the wolf that isn’t quite a wolf yet, just blue and gray on paper. a blur of messy motions.

then he shakes his head. ”no, nothing.” 

you quirk a brow. 

but you don’t say anything. falling silent, falling back into the rhythm of it all, painting until you grow bored of it. the wolf looks at you both, still thoroughly unfinished, jaw half-painted, no trees or knights to keep it company. solitary, blurry; baring its fangs towards no one at all.

a sorry spectacle of teeth.

a couple days later, as you’re walking through the castle with suguru in tow — still adamantly refusing to curl your fingers around his bicep — a loud crash breaks you out of your hushed banter.

the two of you share a look. it came from farther away, just beyond the next turn, a certain hallway decorated with delicate vases. one the castle maids desperately tried to keep you from, when you were younger, worried about your habit of jumping around while pretending to be some sort of feral animal. worried, of course, about the safety of the porcelain rather than the safety of the child.

it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the source of the sound. and, lo and behold, what waits beyond the turn ahead is a crying boy and a broken vase.

fat tears cascade down his reddened cheeks, silent fear knit into the way his face is scrunched up. he can’t be older than six or seven; one of the maid’s children, you assume, the kind that doesn’t have the luxury of making mistakes. he looks panicked, down on his knees, holding a large piece of porcelain, painted flowers etched into the front.

what a mess.

when the clicking of your shoes reaches his little ears, he looks up at you with wide, shameful eyes. still sitting amongst the littered shards, the spilt water and irises soon to wilt. it reminds you of something, a memory you don’t quite want to recall; a different child, tiny and alone. taught to feel shame at the moment of their birth. 

it makes your pace falter, a bit, but suguru moves without hesitation. long, careful strides, one foot after the other. 

he crouches down in front of the boy, gentle as he takes the shattered piece of porcelain from his tiny palm. ”hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, speaking even softer than usual, his voice like a flurry of feathers and jasmine petals. ”are you hurt?”

he’s patient. smiling comfortingly, considerate, grounding, a blanket of wool like the one forming on the border of the horizon. but the child continues to sniffle and hiccup, curling into a ball as if readying for a strike. like an abandoned puppy.

you sigh.

after a moment’s hesitation, you’re stepping forward, figure slipping from the shadows and coming into view. joining the miserable pair, the jagged shards on the marble floor. 

there’s a cold, cold look in your eyes when the boy raises his head to meet them.

a flick of your wrist; you wave your hand once, then twice. ”shoo. hurry up.” 

he blinks. tears clumping his lashes together, cheeks flushed from the panic of it all. he stammers when he parts his lips. ”b… but —”

”didn’t you hear me?” comes a scoff, harsh, cutting through the air. right through the fear and panic. ”that was an order. just run back to your mommy already.” you cross your arms, shaking your head in disapproval. mimicking the king, though you think it’s lost on your spectators. ”all that crying is making my head hurt, geez.”

a series of hesitant blinks. crumbling beneath your commanding gaze, the child stumbles to his feet, sparing suguru one last unsure little glance before scurrying off. the sigh that slips from your lips is quiet, barely audible, tinged with relief. 

when you look down to the floor, you find that suguru is already looking at you; a furrow to his brows. angry, for once. just a tiny, tiny flicker of distaste. you reward him with a cold smile. 

(so this is how you get under this skin. cruelty, aimed not towards him, but towards the defenseless. 

what a picture-perfect, self-destructive little knight.)

just as the child turns the corner ahead, you hear the echo of a maid calling out from behind you. her voice is dripping with fatigue, exasperation, a flurry of sighs you’ve grown far too familiar with.

”your highness! what have you done now?”

there it is, you think; the curtain call you’ve been waiting for. with a swift turn of your heel, sheepish expression ready to go, your focus shifts onto one sole objective — act annoying.

”walked into a vase,” you chirp, proudly, just the slightest bit theatrical. gesturing dismissively towards the broken spectacle, as suguru raises himself from the floor. ”my bad. not my fault you make them so easy to break, though.”

she inches closer, with a disapproving stare, and you hear a tick-tock in your ear. sensing the limit of her patience. ”i’ll have you know these vases are expensive,” she clicks her tongue. ”do you truly think you can go around breaking whatever you please?”

”… i mean. i do kind of own this place, don’t i?” you tilt your head, faux contemplation on your features, shifting into a spoiled smile. ”or i will. so — technically — i broke my own vase. no harm done!”

”… my lord —”

”quiet.” suguru stiffens, ever so slightly, following your sharp whisper. ”don’t fuck this up.”

he looks at you, silently. not saying another word.

(there’s a shame in his eyes that you don’t turn your head to see.)

it doesn’t take long for the maid to shoo you away, pinching her brow at your carefree laughter, bitter at the prospect of cleaning up your mess. she makes sure to give suguru a sweet smile, though, and doesn’t bother to hide the sympathy in it. sympathy for him, such a handsome, well-behaved knight, forced to service such a brat.

the smile he gives her in return is a stiff one. almost, almost cold. but he bows, and follows your retreating form, until you’re all alone together.

the walk is silent. maybe just a little heavy, as you try to ignore the stare burning into your skin, trying to swallow your own displeasure. it’s subtle, something you learned to internalize long ago, but it’s there; a slight sadness. you don’t enjoy getting yelled at.

a thick silence stretches on, before crumbling into dust. you aren’t sure how much time has passed when a certain velvety voice curls around your senses.

”your highness.”

he’s come to a standstill, again. you really should just ignore him and keep walking. but you still, anyway, following his cue, turning towards him with a look that says what now? — you aren’t sure what to expect. certainly not the sentence that ends up spilling from his lips, like a spring breeze through an opened window, tinged with something you fear may be close to fondness. 

(in your chest, your heartbeat tick-tocks.)

he smiles, gentle, with eyes that see right through you. and he speaks. 

”you’re actually kind, aren’t you?”

…

”… huh?”

he pays no mind to your stupefied expression. continuing, unperturbed, eyeing you with a look you distinctly dislike — as if he’s trying to glimpse into your mind. ”the vase,” he hums. ”you took the blame, even though you didn’t do it.”

a huff escapes you. face hardening, setting into firm lines. ”that wasn't intentional,” you grumble, defensive. ”i just wanted him to leave.” 

but suguru shakes his head. ”you could’ve left when the maid came. but you stayed, and lied, and got yelled at so he wouldn’t have to.” a second passes, silence thick with meaning. intentional on his part, you’re sure. ”is that not what you’d call kind?”

another moment gone, little tick-tocks of your heartbeat counting down. you part your lips, but no sound comes out, as you stumble for words to say. irritation stirring in your veins. or is it nervosity? you think your skin feels a little hot, suddenly. 

just what the hell is happening?

”i’m… i’m not �� ” you bite down on your lip. harshly. stammering, voice cracking a bit, to your great dismay. ”… not kind. i hate all of them.”

”but you protect them,” he whispers, ”look after them.” his smile doesn’t waver, never ever, but you’ve never seen it look quite this knowing. and suddenly, he’s closing in on you, gazing at you with laughter in his eyes. 

you try to stand your ground, wanting nothing more than to flee, curl into yourself, scratch at him until he leaves. but your throat feels so dry, all of a sudden, a sensation that only deepens with the next words he breathes into life. 

”a little sweetheart who pretends to be all big and bad…” he eyes you up and down, a meaningful look, raven locks moving as he tilts his head. towering over you. ”is that what you are?”

nothing. no smart reply comes to you. all you can muster is a harsh glare, a low hiss crawling up your throat, like you’re preparing to lunge at him. it serves as a warning, but the amusement in his eyes doesn’t fluctuate. ”you…”

he chuckles. raspy, breathy, a shiver down your spine. ”your acting is even worse than mine.”

”shut up,” you snap, baring your teeth. it comes out almost like a growl, hot and heavy in your veins, and you don’t understand where all this emotion came from. strangling you, bubbling up within your bobbing throat. ”you don’t — understand me, okay?”

no one does. 

and that’s fine. you don’t want them to. 

(you just want him to stop looking at you so fondly.)

”not yet,” he admits, eyes fluttering shut. a thoughtful hum on the tip of his tongue. ”… but i think i’m beginning to.” 

he’s looking at you, again, amber and honey and raven lashes, lapping up every hint of a tell in the way you shift from foot to foot. speaking like he knows you, like he’s known you all his life. ”you act difficult, scare everyone away… but deep down, you love them, don’t you?”

a scoff. desperate. ”no.”

”you want to loved,” he continues, not allowing you to flee. relentless in his pursuit of whatever he imagines must be hidden inside your soul, beneath all those layers of frost. ”understood. everyone does.”

”not me.”

”your highness.”

…

the knight continues to look at you, and you avoid his gaze like it could burn you into cinders — like it could turn you into dust. but he parts his lips, anyway, and speaks. so sincere it makes your chest hurt. words that echo through the endless hallways of the castle, against the surfaces of glass that line the walls. words that make your skin flush under the shadows of rain soon to fall.

he smiles, wide, teeth showing. and he speaks. 

”that was very, very kind of you.”

silence. so thick you wonder if you’re about to faint, or fall to the floor, or something equally embarrassing. a sentence so simple shouldn’t be making you feel this way, this weird. you don’t understand why it makes you feel anything, anything at all, and you don’t understand why your eyes suddenly feel a little glassy.

(someone saw through the act.)

”… whatever,” you squeeze out, at last, but it sounds a little meek. a tiny puff of air. turning around, sharply, blinking rapidly to shoo the tears away. ”i just didn’t want to hear that brat whining. it was hurting my ears.” 

suguru bites back a coo.

as he watches your back retreat, hurrying back to the comfort of your room, he’s almost certain that he’s making progress. that your walls are beginning to crumble, slowly but surely, bit by bit. the path before him clears — a thorny, foggy path through the woods, until a sunsplatter falls on the ground and tells him where to plant his feet. 

it’s not much, barely anything, but suguru’s always liked his hunts blindsighted. 

you turn a corner, and he follows suit. sparing a passing glance at the clouds on the boundary of the horizon, the sole ray of sunlight breaking through.

then he’s catching up to you with long strides.

(it’s his duty, yes, but he doesn’t think he’d mind it so much — getting to know his kind, misunderstood little lord.)

sadly, disappointingly, to your great shame —

you begin to grow used to suguru’s presence in your life. constant, always close behind, always ready to be of service. as infuriatingly patient as ever. it’s a stretch, but you may have become just the slightest bit fond of it. maybe, possibly, you’ve even silently decided to stop trying to scare him away. stop acting so difficult with him, all the time.

or, well — sometimes.

”take me outside, please?” you whine, bottom lip jutting out into a deep pout, accompanied by a flutter of your lashes. the voice that spills from your lips is hopelessly meek, pleading, so sweet you’d get cavities if you didn’t know how fake it was.

effortless, perfected, your one god-given talent; an irresistible pair of puppy dog eyes. 

suguru answers with a smile, tight-lipped. ”no.”

a beat.

”aw, come on,” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet. frustration bubbles up inside your veins, trickling down to your wrist, nails digging into your palm. ”why not? you’re supposed to listen to my every command!”

”still no, sweetheart.”

a series of grumbles scratch at the base of your throat, but suguru pays them no mind. patient, patient, patient. he’s even kind enough to ignore the way you pointedly avoid his gaze after the term of endearment slips past his lips. ”sorry, but that part is non-negotiable. you know i don’t have a choice.”

you do know. but it still makes your mood sour, pulls a sigh from out of your lips. he moves closer, familiar silver tray in hand, dragging a chair to where you’re seated by the windowsill.

”i did bring you this, though,” he gestures towards a particular glass bowl, filled with red berries. they shine like rubies in the light. ”strawberries, like you asked for. wasn’t easy to get a hold of.”

he places the tray right next to you, smiling as he takes a seat. ”cheer up, hm? don’t be so grumpy.”

your pout remains, but you do settle down a bit. just the teeniest, tiniest bit. definitely not because he was kind enough to indulge your cravings.

”… thanks for breakfast.” 

suguru beams, and you avoid his gaze, like always. biting into one of the rubies, the soft murmur of thanks still burning your tongue, soothed by sweet nectar. he lets you flee, lets you continue on like nothing happened, like it isn’t obvious how much you’ve warmed up to his presence. 

”you’re welcome, my lord.”

…

(even after spending more than a month together, he still won’t call you by name. won’t even entertain the idea. why does that bother you so much?)

peacefully, your morning ritual continues. the same as always; you eat, while suguru watches, a sweet smile on his lips. the silence remains until he opts to break it.

today, he sounds a little hesitant.

”say, your highness…” he picks at a piece of lint on his cloak, absentminded. ”could i ask you for a favour?”

you almost drop your fork. gaze snapping up to meet his own, as a few silent seconds tick on by. tick-tock, tick-tock. then you clear your throat, regaining your composure. trying to sound nonchalant. 

”what is it?” you probe, cutting across the yolk on your fried egg. watching the orange seep out, trickling down, sinking into the crust of your toast. suguru hums. 

”a friend of mine — he’s also a knight…” he wrings his hands together, legs parted. tapping his heel on the floor. ”we’ve been sparring together for a while. once a week, at least. but ever since the king hired me, we haven’t been able to.”

you watch as his gaze flickers down to his lap, then up to you again. it’s smooth, charming, but you still think it seems a little out of place. he must not be used to asking for favours.

”i was wondering if you’d be willing to accompany me? just down to the training fields by the castle.” his fingers tap against his bended knee, slow and methodical, from pointer to pinkie. ”the king gave us permission to spar there, but i’m obviously not allowed to let you out of my sight…”

you bite back a huff. obviously. he waits for a response that doesn’t come.

”… so?”

you meet his gaze, expectant. hopeful, maybe. it’s a nice touch — matches with the amber of his eyes.

”would that be alright with you?” he inquires, again. you think he sounds just a tiny bit unsure of himself.

a moment passes. silently, you look down at your lap. folded hands, itching to do something. something fun, new, exciting. 

your tongue forms around a wish. it spills into the air like a shooting star, a meek little whisper.

”… i wanna swing a sword.”

suguru blinks. once, then twice. ”you…” he tastes the words on his tongue, turning the image of you around in his head. ”want to swing a sword?

you nod. glancing at him, coughing a little under your breath. summoning just a bit of audacity, eyes trailing towards the sword by his hip. longingly. ”… i’ll only watch you spar if you let me try it.” 

a brief pause. he studies you intently, a mystery he’s yet to solve.

then he chuckles, light and airy, full of mirth. a sound you’ve grown fond of. ”well, okay. that’s fair.” he rises to his feet, smiling down at you. ”thank you, my lord.”

you don’t respond. but your eyes glitter with excitement, as you dutifully finish your breakfast, wolfing it down. waiting patiently for him to head down to the kitchen with the tray, for him to change into his training gear. 

when he knocks at your door, he’s wearing a flimsy little blouse. almost see-through, if you squint your eyes enough, exposing his bare skin. you think you see a scar curling up from his chest, reaching for his shoulder, just below it by a hair. and you can see his biceps, the fat, the muscle, practically begging to be bitten.

(tantalizing.)

he’s speaking to you, saying something, but you tune him out. focused on trying to restrain your growing urges. when he reaches up to fix his hair, tied up into a bun, the muscle of his arm twitches.

and, suddenly, you can’t contain yourself. 

giving in to the salivating temptation, you grab hold of his bicep, sinking your teeth into it — gentle, but enough that he feels it, enough to leave a set of teeth marks soon to fade. gnawing at it like a dog with a bone.

suguru blinks. pupils wide, quirking a silent brow, quick to smooth over the surprise in his eyes. 

you don’t move. teeth planted against the fabric, the firm muscle beneath it, surprising even yourself; his arm just looked so biteable. you wonder if he’s put off. upset.

but, as always, he’s eerily placating. like nothing you say or do could rock the ship of his patience, an endless sea. smooth, airy laughter flits past his lips, giving way to an indulgent smile. he studies you with fascination, like you’re a creature he hasn’t encountered before.

ever so gently, he grabs hold of your jaw — and the warmth of his touch shocks you into letting it go slack. before you can say anything, he’s rolling up his sleeve. exposing the tender skin.

”go wild, your highness,” he grins, offering his arm up like a lamb to a hungry fox. a teasing mirth in his eyes, his voice coming out as a low purr. ”i don't mind a mark or two.”

to your horror — it flusters you terribly.

you cough. taking a step back, averting your gaze, suddenly disinterested. feigning indifference, anyhow; that was definitely a scar. and a cool one, too. you think you might even have caught a glimpse of a birthmark or two. 

”i’m… just keeping you on your toes,” you stumble for an excuse, still unable to look at him properly. missing the way he stifles a bout of laughter. ”for your training, y’know? gotta stay on your guard.”

”of course. i appreciate the help,” he quips, fond, as he gestures for you to take the lead. ”he’s waiting for us. are you ready?”

for a second, just a second, you consider grabbing his arm. letting him guide you. but the thought is fleeting, like a bundle of peach blossoms, brushed away by the sunshine seeping in through the window’s glass — illuminating the marble flooring. 

a mellow excitement simmers in your bones. 

you head down to the training grounds with a pep in your step, and your loyal knight follows suit. just behind, always, wearing a smile you can’t see.

”suguru!”

the man that greets you with cheerful fervour, seated cross-legged under a peach tree, isn’t quite what you expected him to be. 

when you heard knight, you imagined someone a bit more… intimidating. but this guy is far from imposing. a little shorter than suguru, brown locks stopping right around his ears, exposing his sunkissed skin. freckles scattered across his nose and cheekbones, a happy little grin curled right around his lips. 

he’s cute. a bit like a puppy. not very knightly, though.

”haibara,” suguru greets, a mellow warmth to his voice. the man in question shoots up from the ground, stumbling towards you both, excitement in his hazel eyes. suguru gestures towards you. ”this is the royal heir. the one who doesn’t like having their hand kissed.”

your head whips towards him, an angered flush to your cheeks — you’re almost sure that he’s smirking, giving you a teasing glance, but haibara’s exclamation prevents you from voicing any protests. 

”hi!” he beams, bowing deeply, so sudden that you jolt a bit. his head whips up instantly, brown locks stirred by the breeze, voice warm and smooth. like honeysuckle nectar. ”thank you so much for letting us spar, your highness! i’ve heard so much about you!”

”… um.” your gaze falls down to a pebble on the ground. unsure of how to act, murmuring under your breath. ”you — it’s… no need to thank me. i wanted to get some air, anyway.”

he continues to look at you, eyes shining with a pure kind of cheer. glittering, honeyed and sweet, too bright to look at directly. you hear suguru exhale amusedly to your left. he’s looking right at you when you glance towards him. 

his hand inches closer to his scabbard, fingertips trailing down the leather. ”shall we get started?”

haibara brightens even further, if possible. ”oh, right!” he exclaims. ”you wanted to try swinging a sword, your highness? that’s so exciting! is this your first time?”

a blink. you aren’t really sure how to handle this guy; he’s a bit too sunny to be snarky to. like a fuzzy ball of sunshine given human form, bouncing on the balls of his feet, tail practically wagging behind him. all you can muster is a weak cough. ”uh, yeah.”

”well, you’re here to learn.” suguru speaks up. guiding you both towards the center of the field, hand still at the sword on his hip. ”let me show you.”

in one smooth motion, he’s pulling it out of its sheath, a stripe of silver absorbing the rays of the sun. glimmering, slicing the blue sky in half. 

you’re a little awestruck.

and then he’s facing you. leaning forward, with a familiar tilt of his head, offering the blade with a smile. ”do you want to try swinging it around a bit?”

barely containing your excitement, you nod. making grabby hands at it.

that makes him chuckle. he makes no move to stop you when your fingers curl around the hilt, only parting his lips for a quick warning, a split second too late. you take it into your arms. ”careful, it’s a bit —”

— the sword clatters to the ground with a thud.

silence.

haibara breaks out into laughter, sudden, fond and warm, but enough to have your cheeks burning. fresh with embarrassment, humiliation, before you even hear the breathy chuckle that slips from your knight’s lips.

”… i was going to say it’s a bit heavy,” he hums, one closed knuckle in front of his lips and obscuring his smile. ”i’m sorry, my lord. do you —”

”whatever.” a hiss escapes your throat, and suguru winces. he knows where this is going; knows a bundle of thorns just erupted from the stalk of your spine, that you're about to get defensive. ”like i’d ever want to touch your dusty sword. get — get real.”

he tries again. patient, patient. the familiar tick-tock of his never-ending kindness. ”hey, we aren’t making fun of you,” he soothes, hoping it’ll make your edges soften. like scratching a feral dog behind its ear. ”it’s understandable. you weren’t expecting it. i’ll let you try again, hm?”

a tiny pause. 

(you’re being childish, again.)

brows furrowed, hanging your head, you kick at a pebble on the ground. having collected yourself a bit. ”… maybe next time,” you finally speak, still grumbling. after you’ve spent some time lifting weights in your room.

suguru tilts his head. speaking softly. ”you sure?”

”yeah.” taking a step back, you raise your head to meet his gaze. ”i’ll just watch you. it’s fine.”

”… okay,” he exhales. leaning forward to pick up his sword from the ground. ”i can spar with you next time, if you want. you’ll be a pro in no time.”

he gives you another sweet smile, bangs fluttering with the breeze; painted in cerulean sunshine. he’s so gorgeous it makes you angry.

a sharp huff. ”don’t patronize me,” is all you can mutter, meeting the eyes of the knight by his side. standing up straighter. ”haibara,” you call. ”knock him around a bit for me, okay?”

from the corner of your eye, suguru pouts.

but the puppy-knight only grins, as bright as the sun in the sky. ”you got it, your highness!” he salutes, cheeks flushing with giddy excitement. 

as you sit on the benches a little farther away, dragonflies buzz in the air. fleeting glimmers of chartreuse and cerulean, chirping happily, keeping you company as you watch the knights spar. the clangs of their blades, the elegance in the way suguru moves. a violent little waltz. he’s sweating, just a bit, but you can see it, droplets glittering in the sun.

he looks like he’s having fun. he looks like himself. like he isn’t holding back, isn’t acting obedient or well-mannered for the sake of pleasing his superiors. like this, here and now, he looks wild, free, a dog that turns into a wolf under the glow of the sun. 

for a second, your eyes meet — just as he narrowly avoids a slash. 

and he smirks, ever so slightly, suddenly gaining a little more momentum. flashing a brief grin, sunlight reflecting off his white teeth.

you huff. heat crawling up your neck. 

show off.

”excuse me, your highness?”

the sudden voice snaps you out of your stupor. mesmerized, by the spectacle before you, the glimmer of their blades and the sight of your knight’s smile. it’s an unfamiliar voice, close, close enough that your head turns to meet the stranger’s ugly grin — inching closer still.

(uh oh.)

— just up ahead, lost in their own worlds, are two knights; huffing and smirking and narrowly dodging each other’s strikes. suguru takes the lead, as always, guiding haibara into improving his swordsmanship. but they both learn from it. and it’s fun, lighthearted, a respite from their more gruesome duties. 

it’s helped suguru more times than he can count; those tiny flickers of normalcy, in a wholly unpredictable profession. a life of bowing and bowing and killing what needs to be killed.

slash, slash, and then two steps back. the same old dance. haibara’s starting to lose momentum, he notices, adam’s apple bobbing with his heavy breaths.

so suguru stills. ”alright, that’s enough for now,” he calls, stretching idly. craning his head, looking around him absently. he wonders if you’re still watching. ”i think i see what the problem is.”

haibara perks up, obeying without a word, wiping the sweat off his forehead and walking towards his friend with a sunny smile. ”okay, great!”

but suguru isn’t looking at him, anymore. 

he’s looking towards the benches, where his little lord is seated, speaking to an unfamiliar man. one who currently has his hand on their forearm, caressing it. you look guarded, irritated, a little like you’re about to bare your teeth. trying to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. and suguru recognizes that look — the one that means you’re about to start biting and hissing, inching your claws into whatever’s within reach.

(not to injure, but to ground yourself, he’s learned. like how you clutch onto the fabric of your clothing when you’re nervous, sink your nails into your palm. not to injure, but to feel safe.)

in the blink of an eye, he’s making his way towards you. beckoned by his duty, his natural instinct, a protective itch that curls around his ribcage and crawls up his throat. large strides, much swifter than usual. he moves without thinking, and he’s there before he has the time to form a coherent thought.

with as much gentleness as he can possibly muster, he grabs hold of the stranger’s arm. smiling, tight-lipped, cold. ”excuse me, sir,” he greets, ”i need to borrow them for a moment.”

the man meets his gaze with a sour look. bitter, ugly, oddly possessive — like he thinks he owns the arm he’s holding. it makes suguru want to teach him a lesson, show off his sword, but he resists the temptation in a way you never could. his expression is a warning, though, enough to scare most rowdy drunkards and snobby royals away.

and it works. the stranger looks to you, briefly, before finally letting go of your poor arm. something rigid in suguru’s jaw finally relaxes. ”who are you?” comes a question, as the man turns to face him with a look full of contempt. ”their knight?”

before suguru can say anything, you’ve hopped off the bench. clinging to him, with a firm nod; your arms around his bicep. ”yeah. he is.”

(suguru fails to stifle a smug smile.)

with a string of bitter mumbles and a silent frustration, the man scurries away. hesitant, only after being met with another warning glance from the knight in front of him. intimidating, far less subtle, towering above him like a predator over their prey.

as soon as he’s out of sight, your knight turns to you, scanning your face for signs of discomfort. loyal, attentive. ”are you okay?” he asks, a silent shame in his voice. if only he had noticed sooner. ”did he do anything to you?”

you shake your head. ”it’s fine. probably one of the king’s friends — stops by every now and then.” a sigh, a little fatigued, following your explanation. ”they’re mostly harmless. just creepy and touchy.”

”that doesn’t sound very harmless…” suguru lets you pull away, quick to hide the disappointment that flashes in his eyes as you do, waving haibara off with a silent gesture of give us a minute. ”don’t worry. i’ll keep an eye out, from now on.”

still a little guarded, you nod. letting suguru guide you by the small of your back, taking a seat on the solid bench once more. together, this time. 

”there are a lot of those types around the town square,” he exhales, weary, stretching out his limbs before leaning forward. elbows resting on his bended knees. ”they’re a pain to deal with. i’m sorry you have to.”

”are there?” you ask, tone laced with curiosity. ”in the town?” 

”well, i’m sure you’ve heard. that place is a bit of a mess, these days…” a click of his tongue. ”more work for the knights.”

a dragonfly settles on the bridge of his nose. suguru blinks, smiling gently, until it flutters away with a raspy squeak. fading away, melting into the blue paint of the sky. you bite down on your lip. 

”… i haven’t.”

he turns to look at you. raising a brow.

”i haven’t heard about it at all. the king told you, right?” you meet his eye with a rueful smile, before leaning back, nose turned up towards the sky. for a second, you think the air smells a bit of rain. ”i’m not allowed to go out into town.”

your knight falls silent.

so you continue. grinning, with no humour to it. maybe a bit eager to overshare, to break the silent rules you’ve been given. the secret tastes like honey on your tongue. ”i’m a bastard child. he probably told you that, too.” you wouldn’t be surprised. ”thinks it's optimal for everyone involved if i just stay cooped up in the castle.” 

closing your eyes, your voice drips with something close to longing. barely above a whisper. ”i haven't been to the town in a couple of years, now.”

…

he only hums. ”i see.”

(there’s sympathy, in his amber eyes, but you don’t turn around to see it. you don’t turn to look at him until he’s finished sparring, and haibara’s about to leave. 

you wonder if he’ll meet your gaze the same way as before.) 

that evening, suguru knocks at your door right as you're about to fall asleep. three rapid knocks, the same as always, knuckle against wood. rousing you from your rest.

when you open it, he’s holding something out towards you.

”here,” he says, voice set to a mellow tilt. upon closer inspection, he’s holding a bottle. transparent, see-through, stuffed to the brim with sea glass. smooth little colourful pebbles, green and blue and pink and orange, like frozen camellias. ”for you, my lord.”

blinking sluggishly, you take it into your arms; holding it up in front of your eyes. when the light of the moon flitting in through the curtains hits it just right, it blossoms with colour, sparkling with every shade you’ve ever seen. shining like a heap of jewels, in your hands, like something out of a picture-book. magical.

it’s mesmerizing. 

”i asked haibara to get it from the town,” he explains, drinking in your expression of awe. ”this one lady — she collects them herself. i see her by the beach nearly every time i go there.”

when you look up, his smile is serene. peaceful, if just a little bit tired. but he looks pleased, lips curling around silky syllables. ”i thought of you.”

it’s odd, you think. you aren’t a stranger to gifts; you get most of what you desire if you just say the word, an easy way for the king to keep you compliant. as if to make up for the plethora of experiences you’ve missed out on since your birth.

but this — this particular gift…

…

”it’s pretty,” you murmur, finally, unable to voice even a sliver of the emotions clogging up your chest. shying away from his gaze, feeling your heart pulse against your ribcage. ”… i guess.”

suguru just smiles. always, always, always. no matter what you do. ”i’ll get you something else next time,” he promises, ready to go back to standing guard outside the castle. ”get some sleep, okay? be good.”

and you can’t bring yourself to protest. not even a tiny huff of don’t tell me what to do. you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod, soft and pliant, still gazing at the bottle of sea glass in your hands. like you might turn into one of those transparent pebbles, if you wish for it enough.

that night, you dream of waves crashing against sand, the taste of seafoam on your tongue. every colour in the world. a newfound, reawakened wish —

a wish to see more of it.

”are you trying to sneak out again?”

owlishly, all you can do is blink. propped up on the windowsill, immersed in the process of tying pillowcases and bedsheets together to form a rope. caught in the act — by none other than suguru, standing by the threshold, hand on his hip, watching you with silent disapproval. you didn’t think he’d come check on you this late.

you swallow a gulp. ”… no?”

and he sighs. walking towards you, brows furrowed, running a hand through his raven locks. you can tell he’s trying to be a little more sympathetic, this time, but it only makes the bitter taste on your tongue thicken. 

”look — i know it’s not fair to you, but the king and queen specifically ordered me —”

”i get it,” you cut him off, with a hiss, a little harsher than you meant to. you soften your voice before continuing. "i know. okay? i know.”

resigned, but frustrated, you clench the silken material of the bedsheets. glaring at them like it’s somehow their fault that the queen couldn’t bear an heir, that your father has a knack for sleeping around. like it’s their fault that he’s so ashamed of your existence that he doesn’t want you integrating into society on anything other than his own terms, until he’s dead and gone and doesn’t have to take accountability anymore. 

like it’s their fault that it’ll always be like this, forever, that it’s better not to hope for more.

(why can’t you just accept that?)

the knight before you exhales. troubled, watching your nails dig into the fabric, watching the way you bite down on your lip and rapidly blink. all signs of your frustration, your sadness, that you always try so hard to hide. 

”hey. how about this?” he tries to get your attention, voice soothing enough to coax you into raising your gaze. ”i’ll tell you a story instead.”

he stifles a chuckle, at the dubious look you send his way, teetering on the edge of a glare. slithering towards you. ”i’ve seen a lot of places. i can tell you about them, if you’d like.” he takes a seat right next to you, on the windowsill, a slice of the moon in bare view. ”what do you want to know?”

you’re silent, for a second. gnawing at your bottom lip, in contemplation, the tiniest bit of nervosity. like you aren’t quite sure if you’re allowed to speak your wishes aloud.

”… the woods.”

suguru blinks. quiet.

his silence makes you want to bare your fangs, a bit, misinterpreting it as judgement. your voice comes out cold. ”what?”

but he’s quick to smooth over his features with a smile, as always, cocking his head amusedly. ”sorry — i was expecting you to say the sea, or something. it's the woods that you're so curious about?”

a pout slips into your lips.

”… you can see them from here.”

his head turns towards the window’s glass, squinting his eyes to see the sea of dark green in the distance, a cluster of thick trees. he hums. ”yeah, you can. well… that particular spot isn’t too bad. not many bandits or beasts.” your gaze stays glued onto his lips, every word that spills from them. ”there are wolves, though. this side of the kingdom is crawling with them.”

”they sell their fur,” you state.

(that’s one thing you do know. you spent more of your childhood around wolf pelts than your own parents. they might as well be your legal guardians.)

suguru nods. ”they do. it's a big portion of the kingdom’s exports… general market, as well.”

a frown tugs at your lips. you think of your fluffy childhood guardians, unable to howl or even make a sound; hunters turned decorations.

”isn’t that… kinda fucked up?”

he smiles, revealing no emotion. ”do you think it is?”

you only shrug. ”i’m not surprised that they eat us.” you think of all the stories you’ve heard, the fairy tales you grew up with. “if i was a wolf, i’d hate humans too.”

”would you, now?” familiar amusement, seeping from his tongue, soft crows’ feet by his cedar eyes. ”good thing you aren’t a wolf, then. we’re lucky.”

”mhm. you’d be my first target.”

that makes him chuckle, a little deeper this time, and you drink in the glimpse you get of his teeth, the fondness that dances across his face when he looks at you. 

a sudden urge overtakes you. 

”… i wanna know about something else.”

”oh?” he tilts his head, soft locks framing his kind eyes. ”and what would that be, my dear?”

”you.”

… 

for a moment, the mask falls. a silent, subtle kind of surprise, something in the way the tips of his fingers twitch that tells you he’s caught off guard. it coaxes you into continuing, following through with your question. swallowing the embarrassment. ”i wanna know more about you. how you became a knight, and… stuff.”

suguru looks at you with a strange glint in his eyes. undecipherable, unspoken, just watching as moonrays glide across your soft skin. ruffling your hair. 

a hum buzzes in his throat. he scratches at the back of his neck, resisting the urge to dodge your question. clicking his tongue. ”… well.”

anticipation blooms in your eyes, and you cross your legs, waiting patiently to hear him speak. he can’t deny you, when you look at him like that — so suguru simply exhales. a breath of indulgence. 

”it’s not a very interesting story,” he leads, closing his eyes in remembrance. ”they scouted me when i was pretty young…. a bit of a troublemaker, honestly, but i got lucky." memories flash behind his eyelids, fresh bruises, sliced fruit. bittersweet. ”ended up around some powerful people. they liked me. knighthood felt like the right choice.” 

he meets your entranced gaze, speaking with sincerity, devotion dipped in honey and holy water. sinking deeper still. ”it’s my purpose in life,” he breathes, a flurry of whispers on his tongue. heavier than either of you know. ”truly.”

you cock your head. ”being a knight?”

”protecting the weak,” he says. recites. like he’s said it a million times before, in the face of beasts, in the reflection of broken mirrors, a mantra to live and die by. ”protecting those who can’t protect themselves.”

the look in his eyes frightens you. deeper than the deepest lake, dark and murky, dragging him down. a devotion that smells of iron, tastes like steel. mania disguised as loyalty.

(knights love duty. almost as much as they love dying for it. that’s what your father always says.)

”but, honestly — this kind of thing isn’t bad,” he breaks you out of your trance, grinning sheepishly, almost boyishly. ”it’s been a while since i had so much fun on the job… thank you for that.”

he’s looking at you, right at you, into your eyes, an expression reserved for you and you alone. terribly earnest, grateful, a sincerity he wouldn’t show anyone else. ”honestly.”

you can do nothing but avert your gaze. swiftly, meekly, feeling heat crawl up your neck, blooming across your cheeks like the branches of a plum tree. suguru grins, gulping down the slightest coo — but he can’t resist the urge to poke fun at you a bit.

”… you’re a shy one, aren’t you?” he searches for your gaze, chuckling when he doesn’t find it. when you don’t let him. ”can’t even look people in the eye if they’re being nice to you… how precious.”

”oh, shut up,” you groan, glaring out into the night sky. blinking slowly, drowsily, biting back a yawn that your attentive knight still manages to notice. 

(he looks a little enamored.)

”ah… is my sweet little lord getting sleepy?”

”no,” you scoff, far too quick. ”i’m… tired.”

”of course.” he reaches out, carefully, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. ”tired — not sleepy. that would be outrageous, wouldn’t it?” 

a yawn. ”it would.” 

low laughter bubbles up at the base of his throat, like seafoam, melting roses. deep and summery. ”alright. that’s enough stories for tonight, i think.” and with that, he gets up. ”let’s get you to bed, hm?”

rubbing your eyes, absently kicking your legs, you give him a slow nod of your head. making grabby hands at him that you’re sure you’ll be embarrassed about in the morning — but it feels easy, to be greedy, to know that your wants won’t be ignored when you’re with him. ”carry me, suguru.”

an indulgent smile. he doesn’t say anything, only curling his arms under your thighs, lifting you up and cradling you to his chest. you can feel his firm muscles, like this, trace them with your fingertips, hear the beating of his heart. tick-tock, tick-tock. a lullaby. a sense of safety, when you can’t tell where your heartbeat ends and his begins.

lost in that fuzzy, sleepy feeling, a blink away from falling into dreamland, fatigue washes over you — but you cling to his sleeve, even as he tucks you in, dragging the blanket up to cover you properly. 

”suguru,” you murmur, so quiet you doubt he hears it. ”will you tell me more stories tomorrow?”

”of course.” right before sleep coaxes you into its cradle, you feel the weight of his palm on your head; ruffling your hair. ”as many as you want, your highness.”

he smiles, as your eyes flutter shut, at the soft little breaths that flow from your lips. before he slips out, he blows out the candle on the nightstand, a silent prayer that your dreams will be kinder to you than his. 

one week of nagging later, suguru’s resolve finally crumbles.

it’s progress, at last, a tiny crack in his clockwork heart — but for once it works in your favour.

”do you really want to see the outside world that badly?”

he’s got an arm locked around your waist, stopping you from one of your numerous escape attempts. you’ve gotten bolder, sneaking away the moment he takes his eyes off you, but suguru isn’t easy to fool — catching up to you just as you stepped outside the castle, now stuck in place under the portico. it’s to be expected, with that sixth sense of his, the one that seems to alert him as soon as you think the thought to get him in trouble. 

but you still can’t help but pout, huff and puff, pushing at his chest in a helpless attempt to break free. he’s sweet about it, gentle, but entirely unmoving. like a big, annoyingly handsome rock.

”what do you think?” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. ”no, of course not. this whole time, i’ve just been trying to escape for fun. like, as a bit. how could you tell?”

he rolls his eyes, and you break out into a grin. ”mind the sarcasm, please.” he barely resists the urge to pinch your side; letting you loose, instead, trusting you not to scurry away. he’d catch up to you instantly, anyhow. "i’m just saying, it might not be as interesting as you think —“

”what are you, stupid?”

”what did we say about letting people finish their sentences?” he raises a brow, and you try not to cower. rolling your eyes, instead. suguru just sighs. ”i understand why you want to leave. but you have a good life, here. better than most.”

”… i know that,” you grumble, biting down on your lip. a resignation in your eyes that your knight can't protect you from. ”i just —”

you sigh. 

”it’s just so suffocating.”

suguru falls into a contemplative silence. weighing his options, studying the flicker of emotions in your eyes, the tapping of your idle fingers. hands eager to fidget with something. 

moments pass, one at a time, a familiar lullaby of pitter patter ricocheting off the ground just outside your vision. the air smells of marigolds, burning wood, wet concrete. the beginnings of summer.

finally, he makes up his mind. 

”okay, okay.”

when you look up from the ground, what awaits you is an outstretched hand. a familiar palm, and a familiar knight, with a familiar smile on his face. ”but don’t get used to it, alright?”

…

you part your lips, but no sound comes out. gaping like a fish out of water, hunting for the right words. suguru waits. patient.

”w — hold on,” you stutter, eyes blooming with hesitant hope, studying him intently for any signs of trickery. ”you mean — seriously? like, for real?”

he shrugs. ”it’s my duty to keep you happy.” devotion clings to his tongue, sweet indulgence. ”figure i can make an exception this once.”

another moment passes.

(there isn’t a hint of deceit in his features.)

a grin breaks out across your lips, like a joyous bolt of lighting, and you lunge into his chest — throwing your arms over his broad shoulders, jumping up and down, planting a wet kiss against his cheek. bubbly, giddy, heart racing with disbelief. you don’t even have it in you to be bratty. ”thank you, thank you, thank you!”

suguru makes a choked out noise, a little comical, breath hitching in the back of his throat. stabilizing you with a palm on the small of your back, patting it softly, once or twice, before retracting his arm and pulling away. clearing his throat. ”… you’re welcome.”

(his ears burn a cherry red.)

”but this is our little secret,” he reminds you, firmly, collecting himself. or trying to. ”got it?”

”yep.”

”if anyone asks, you —”

”yep, yep, understood.” you brush him off, still grinning brightly. ”don’t worry! i won’t tell a soul, i promise. swear on my mother’s grave!”

your knight exhales. worried, maybe, a little exasperated — mostly just trying to mask how infectious your joy is. how addicted he is to it, now that he’s seen it up close. he’s only caught glimpses in the midst of your painting sessions; to see it directed at him instead of the wolf on your canvas is a treasure he won’t soon forget. 

sneakily, stealthily, like a pair of bad dogs, the two of you begin your journey to the woods on the horizon. wearing cloaks, sticking together, until the sun begins to set and the sky drains of colour. 

and before you know it, it’s right there in front of you. a narrow path into the woods, a cluster of trees, a world you’ve always dreamed of. dark and gritty, beautiful, brimming with bugs and sights yet to be seen. creatures you could only ever see in picture books. a dreamlike world that takes shape before you, like paint splattered on a canvas, as you follow suguru’s lead — right behind him, clinging to the fabric of his cloak, excitement flooding your veins. heart thumping erratically in your chest. 

when you’ve made it to a tiny clearing, you stop in your tracks. suguru’s holding a lantern, a flicker of orange in the dark green world before you, attracting fuzzy moths. proud trees stand tall all around you, keeping guard, mushrooms and forget me nots scattered across the dewy patches of grass. keeping them company. 

everything smells of life, earth, oak wood and thinly veiled secrets. you want to live here forever.

suguru turns to look at you, noticing the way you’ve stilled. completely mesmerized, bewitched, eyes gleaming with childlike happiness. he tuts, doing a bad job at hiding how pleased he is. the sound makes you meet his eye.

”careful,” he croons, inching closer. fingertips ghosting over your wrist, right above your pulsepoint. ”could be wolves around. stay close.”

”i’ve already got one right next to me, though?”

the comment earns you a flat expression, unimpressed, and it pulls a giggle from out your throat. the corners of suguru’s lips curl up, unwillingly, as he shakes his head; exhaling a tired breath. exasperated. 

then he hums. ”well, at least you're aware.”

suddenly, he’s walking forward, slipping away, cold air replacing the buzzing warmth of his skin on yours. hot blood, ever flowing, hidden within his veins — pumped out from his heavy heart. it’s there and then it’s gone. tick, tock, one step after the other, until he’s turning around to face you again. unfurling his outstretched hand, waiting for you to grab hold of it. 

his long hair sways with the breeze, smooth and unburdened, black like the night sky above you. a starry glint in his eyes. his voice comes out deep, a raspy lilt, like the scraping of metal against concrete. 

when he smiles, you think you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth.

”will you trust this wolf to keep you safe?”

under the web of shadows cast by the trees, barely illuminated by the shivering moon, all you can do is watch him. his gleaming eyes, the curl of a toothy grin on his lips. a knight, a wolf, a friend.

your protector. 

finally, finally, you grasp onto his offered hand. his fingers intertwine with your own, a puzzle finally solved, and his palm feels a little calloused. skin littered with tiny scars, years of training and killing, but it’s still somehow so soft. nice and smooth. 

he’s warm. and now he’s smiling at you, like you put all the gold of the world into his palm. 

”yeah,” you grin, a little cheeky. stepping closer, clinging to him without restraint, knowing he’ll indulge you. ”keep me safe, wolfie.”

his laughter rings out into the air like a cicada song, sweet and nostalgic. or a howl, maybe. it makes you want to gnaw at his bones; memorize his taste, so you’ll never quite be without him. it’s not your fault he looks so chewable when he’s smiling like that.

”i will,” he promises, vows, pledges, hand on his heavy heart. knights and their rituals. ”you don’t have to worry about a thing. not while i’m here.”

and you don’t. you know you don’t. because suguru is the greatest knight, the coolest wolf, and his clockwork heart never ceases to tick. it won’t break under pressure, no matter how much you push — so you don’t bother holding back. wrapping both arms around his bicep, cozying up to him, tugging at his cloak with a pep in your step. 

”c’mon, c’mon!" you beckon him forward. "i wanna see how everything looks up close.”

and he just lets you manhandle him, for a bit. following your lead. ”your wish is my command, your highness.”

the night stretches on, seemingly never-ending, like the branches of the oak tree you find in the heart of the woods. broken, beautiful, stretching out in all directions — a garden of forking paths, covered in jagged bark, but still somehow so warm to the touch. you’re sure there’s a heartbeat in there, somewhere. maybe a couple of swords too.

all good things must come to an end. but you refuse to leave the comfort of your mossy haven until suguru promises to bring you back, someday, maybe, if you play nice. it’s a deal that you’re willing to take.

only then do you begin your journey back towards the castle. having gotten your fill, for now, left to wallow in the newfound sights etched into your memory. still clinging to your knight like a child with their favorite doll, babbling into his ear about something or another. about how you’re almost sure you saw a wolf in the bushes, about how pretty the cicadas’ songs were. how you’re gonna convince him to take you there every single day.

the sun is yawning, stretching its endless limbs out, getting ready to rise and envelop the world. the sky is a calm blue, soon to be painted orange and pink, but you aren’t tired at all. you must sound a little incoherent, but suguru nods along to your every word. listening attentively.

so kind. so patient. sure, he’s a tease, and more than a little patronizing — but you don’t think you’ve ever liked anyone this much before. it’s weird. it’s fun. 

(you wonder if he feels the same.)

”hey, suguru?”

he keeps his eyes locked on the road ahead, but still spares you a brief glance, just to let you know you have his full attention. a second of hesitance is all your sleepy brain allows you, curiosity enveloping most of your functioning thoughts.

”would you… i mean. if i was, like… a different person —” you pause. suguru quirks a brow, and you suddenly feel a little flustered. ”um, what i mean is! like, if the king ordered you to be someone else’s knight… would you protect them like you do with me?”

he blinks. once, then twice, meeting your hopeful gaze. stifling a yawn, and parting his lips. 

”of course.”

…

your face falls. lips dropping down into a soft pout, rich with disappointment, paired with a barely audible huff. suguru furrows his brows, playfully, smiling in the way he always does when he’s about to tease you.

”ah, my bad,” he croons. ”were you expecting something else? a… forbidden romance, perhaps?”

before you can begin to protest, warmth rushing to your cheeks, he stops walking. dropping down on one knee, dramatically, with a flutter of his cloak. theatrical. gently, he grabs hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips as his eyes flutter shut. you bite back a squeak.

his voice comes out low, sultry, honeyed — so heavy with emotion that it’s obvious he’s faking it. ”the only person i yearn to protect is you, my liege,” his breath feels hot against your skin. ”i could never love another. my existence is for you, and you alone.” 

suddenly, he’s smirking. you feel it against the knots of your knuckle, right before he cracks a single eye open. glimmering with deep amusement. ”… is that better?”

and you huff. sharply, doing all that you can to avoid getting flustered, his heavy gaze burning right into your own. it really, really doesn’t work. ”you’re so mean.”

”not mean,” he chuckles, rising to his feet. dusting off his cloak. ”i’m just… managing your expectations, my lord. they’d have my head on the chopping block if i so much as touched you without their consent — you know that.”

another little huff. ”i never said i wanted you to…” 

suguru hums. ”i’m your knight,” he reminds you, as always, until you get tired of hearing it. steadfast, irrefutable. ”that’s all. remember?”

(something bitter settles on your tongue.)

but you nod. ”that’s right,” you hum. ”mine.”

a teasing mirth flickers through his eyes, like the first setting sunrays reflecting off cathedral glass. reverent, dyeing the world in all the colour it asks for. and he gives a raspy chuckle. ”possessive little thing…”

that’s right, you remind yourself. he’s your knight. your lying, teasing, playwright of a knight. always wearing a mask, hiding behind a suit of armor, playing one role or another. only baring himself under the light of the sun, when no one is around to see. he’s infuriatingly patient, endlessly loyal, the greatest bootlicker you’ve encountered in your life. but he’s kind, too. maybe a little too kind. 

and he always, always kneels. 

such a large man, all toned muscle and tall stature, broad shoulders and a firm chest — kneeling at your feet. like a loyal dog. with a rustle of armor, a flutter of fabric, a sigh and a smile. as soon as you ask for it.

”c’mon. let’s hurry back,” you hear him say, biting back another yawn. ”before anyone finds out i kidnapped you. don’t want me to get in trouble, do you?”

”i kinda do.”

a silent look. unimpressed. it’s the most sincere expression he knows how to make, and also the most comical. ”careful,” he looks ahead, hiding his amused smile. ”wolves eat bratty heirs, you know? better stay on my good side, your highness.”

a bout of sleepy giggles. you curl an arm around his bicep, putting your weight onto him, but he doesn’t stumble. ”sorry, mr wolf! please, by all means, eat my dear father instead.”

”don’t be disrespectful.”

”sorry,” you quip, entirely unapologetic. ”i forgot you had a crush on him. that’s my ba — ow!”

suguru brushes by you, walking forward, hiding his growing grin. leaving you with an ache in your hip and two wide eyes. 

”hurry up, my lord. we don’t have all day.”

”wha — you pinched me!” you stumble after him, barely containing your quiet delight. ”they’ll have your head for this, you know!”

silent laughter. you don’t need to hear it to know that it’s there, just ahead of you, tucked into crows’ feet and a curl of his lips.

suguru always kneels.

but, sometimes, he talks to you as if you’re equals. sometimes he takes the lead, pinches your hip, tells you off a little. teasing, patient, but there’s an edge to him that he doesn’t always hide. sometimes, he lets you see it, and you figure that must make you at least a little bit special.

sometimes, he feels like your best friend.

careless, careless, careless.

how could he ever be so careless?

everything blurs into a puddle of red. murky, sticky, everywhere all at once. all he sees is red, all he feels is burning. his heartbeat pulses at the base of his throat, bottom lip bruised and aching from hours of sinking his teeth into the flesh, over and over — every single nerve of his body running on adrenaline and nothing else.

(adrenaline and fear, maybe, but they’ve always been synonymous. never one without the other.)

the slaughter is mindless. suguru knows that’s how they like it, anyhow — knights aren’t supposed to think. they don’t need to. 

suguru certainly isn’t. cutting his way through the bandit’s den, practically growling, sword painted such a dark shade of red that he doubts he’ll ever be able to wipe it clean. harsh slashes, pure instinct, wildfire inside his veins, iron on his tongue. 

suguru isn’t thinking, he’s hunting. sniffing like a bloodhound. eyes scanning the area before him like a hungry beast.

suguru is hunting — for you.

and when he sees you, at last, tied up and barely conscious, he’s almost certain he’s going to grow claws, fangs, matted fur. that he’s going to turn into a beast beneath the fading moonlight.

but he falls to his knees, instead, like a wounded dog. throwing his burganet off, with a clatter, crawling closer. heaving breaths, untying you with shaky hands, greedy fingertips hunting for a pulsepoint —

and only when he finds it does he allow himself the luxury of breathing again.

when you come to, veins dragged down by a fuzzy sensation, your vision is blurred. foggy, dull colours on the canvas of your mind, gradually washed away as you struggle for control. you stir, and finally see the figure above you. 

what you see is a knight, a wolf, a beast beneath the moonlight. a kind, kind man.

suguru.

bloodied armor. sweaty, messy hair, sticking to his forehead. pure panic in his bloodshot eyes. he cradles your face, cold metal on your cheek, dirty and smelling of iron. he moves his mouth; you delude yourself into thinking that his bottom lip is trembling. forming around familiar vowels.

he’s saying your name.

there must be something wrong with you, you belatedly realize. the last one to do so. because you’re hurt, scared, but you still feel a skip of your heartbeat. 

(he finally said it.)

you muster all the strength at your disposal, eyelids fluttering. and you try to answer, you do, reaching for that thread between your brain and your tongue — but it comes out as a garbled little thing, more air than noise. 

it’s enough. the tense crease between his brows melts away, and he sighs.

”oh, thank the heavens.”

another sensation. he’s touching your hand, now, cold metal on warm skin, bringing it up to his lips; a shaky little exhale brushing against the knots of your knuckle. his lips are chapped. 

then he’s scooping you up, cradling you close, as close as metaphysically possible, as if willing to cut his stomach open to fit you inside. his grip is firm, comforting, desperate, a mother wolf carrying her cub to safety by the skin of her teeth. his hair tickles your skin, but you don’t mind.

only when he brings you back to the castle does everything fall into place. he explains everything, as you sit in bed, still recovering. a sudden attack, from within the castle, a kidnapping. some enemies of the king, a scandal to do with you and your blood. something, something, something. you’ve grown used to not understanding why you keep getting hurt. 

and you’re too distracted by the sullen face of the knight in front of you to pay attention.

suguru wasn’t there to stop it — wasn’t there to save you, be your knight in shining armor. the king had invited him to a game of chess, and you had been adamant in your refusal to join them.

so you don’t understand why he’s apologizing.

he’s smiling, but it’s weak, as flimsy as a piece of paper. his lying smile, tight-lipped, betrayed by the redness of his eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. dark crescents. he sits by your bedside and looks a little like he wants to curl into a ball. 

”i’m sorry.”

and ah, you think; there it is. guilt. always, always clinging to him, a ghost haunting him wherever he goes. it’s been there since the beginning, in the scar reaching for his shoulder, the nature of his never-fading smile. guilt, guilt, guilt. you wonder if he's ever gone without it. you wonder if knights begin to crumble when they stop feeling ashamed. 

he looks sad.

with a breathless inhale, you part your lips. you want to tell him that he has nothing to apologize for, that you’re fine now — that you could never be mad at him. not really, never truly, never at him. you want to tell him that he’s your favorite person, not just your favorite knight, that he’s allowed to make mistakes without demanding that he suffer for them. 

you want to tell him that it’s okay, really. seriously.

but all that leaves your lips is a meek little sniffle. as the shock of it all finally settles, sinking deep into your bones, the fear of being captured, the dull ache of your skull meeting the ground. you can’t tell him any of the things you want to, and you feel so awful — 

because suguru’s face falls. like you just thrust a knife into his sternum and twisted it. he looks like he could cry, too.

”i’m sorry,” his voice cracks, right down the middle. like a broken vase. ”i’m so sorry.” it’s not at all what you want to hear, but you can’t tell him that either. he’s bundling you up before you know it, dragging you into the comfort of his chest, one large palm on the back of your head; tugging you closer still. he smells of soap and oak wood and peach blossoms. ”it was scary, wasn’t it?”

and you nod. into his neck, wet tears brushing against his skin. not stable enough to act tough. you don’t think he is, either.

suguru exhales, shaky, clutching you like he could lose you if he lets go. lose himself. he knows you’re scared, but you let him soothe you. it means something, he thinks. it means something that you let him come so close, closer than anyone’s ever been. so he swallows the guilt until it’s no longer clogging up the back of his throat, if only so his voice can flow out through the gap, give you the comfort you need. just rubbing your back until you calm down, apologizing silently — over and over again. manic, like the tick-tock of a clock.

until your voice breaks him out of it.

”it’s not your fault.”

he stiffens. still holding you, feeling your heartbeat settle down, hearing your voice break out of your throat. it comes out as a weak croak, with just the slightest hint of disapproval.

he gulps.

”don’t worry about me, right now,” he hushes you. a silent plea. ”i’m not the one who’s injured.”

”suguru —” you sigh, almost a hiss. ”i hit my head. once. that’s all.” you wipe away the wetness of your cheeks, biting back a sniffle. ”… you’re acting like i’m fucking dying. cut it out.”

(for once, he’s relieved to hear that sharp edge of your voice. it means you’re feeling better.)

a weak inhale. ”… they kidnapped you. it must’ve been terrifying. please, just…” and a tired exhale. ”please just don’t strain yourself.”

”it wasn’t your fault.”

…

”your highne —”

”i’m serious.” you’re pulling away, suddenly, clasping onto his cheeks with your tearstained palms. squishing his face together. ”it wasn’t your fault. it was mine.”

he shakes his head, eager to protest, so you squish his cheeks with more force, and shake his head for him. like a misbehaving dog. ”nope. if you even think about apologizing, i’ll start crying again.”

he lets out a huff. frowning, sadly, a downcast pair of eyes.

”don’t pout. i’ll bite you.”

it’s slight, barely even there at all — but you think the corner of his mouth twitches upwards, just by a hair, exhaling through his nose with just the slightest hint of amusement.

he places his palm over yours. 

a moment passes, slow and steady, both of you catching your breaths. calming down, letting the fear of it all seep out of your aching bones. you hope the warmth of your skin against his soothes him as much as it soothes you. 

”… you know, your highness,” he murmurs, softly. meeting your puffy eyes with his tired pools of amber gold. ”there’s something i never told you.”

you blink. he continues.

”just the night before the king reached out to me… i had a dream.” he musters a weak, exhausted little smile. ”dreams… i don’t have them very often. and when i do, they’re nothing good. but this dream…” 

his eyes flutter shut. a curtain closing, a raven taking flight, the tick-tock of a heartbeat. you can’t look away. ”it stuck out to me.”

silence.

your voice comes out soft, like the bedsheets beneath you, the man before you. a tiny breath of a question. ”… what was it about?”

he smiles. smoothing a thumb over your knuckle, reverent, as if memorizing every ridge and dip.

”a fox.”

…

”it had…” his hand slips from the small of your back, reaching for your cheek, pinching it gently. ”a cheeky smile.”

your skin heats up, beneath his touch. and you blink, not saying a word, because there isn’t any need to. all the words you could ever want have already been painted out.

(well, maybe not quite all.)

”suguru.” you lean close, just a little, drinking him in. and he listens, as always, so you don’t bother beating around the bush. swallowing any embarrassment your tired mind can still feel. because your knight is right in front of you, eyes still red from crying, and you want him to be happy. “i think you’re my favorite person.”

he stills.

then he’s burning up. 

”wha — where did that come from?” he stammers, a strawberry hue to his ears, his neck, the tips of his fingers. enveloping him like a blanket of warmth.

you only shrug. ”you told me the truth. figured i should return the favour, for once.” a giddy, exhausted smile. “we’re both awful liars, huh?”

suguru opens his mouth. then he closes it, again, desperate to collect himself. you think he must be a little too exhausted to, and you wish you could say you felt bad. ”you… you can’t just —”

he squeezes his eyes shut. sighing. giving up, the gears of his mind grinding to a halt. your grin blooms wider.

”hehe.” you poke at his flushed cheek, and he cracks a single eye open. ”you’re blushing.”

he huffs, leaning away from your touch, and you find yourself enjoying the reversal of your usual roles. very much so. he tries to smile, tries to get one up on you, but he only blushes a deeper shade of red once your words reach his ears. 

so he settles for using cheap tricks.

”you’re hallucinating,” he scoffs, shoving your head into the fluffy pillows all around you. ever so gently, listening to your muffled giggles. trying to stifle his own joy. ”go back to sleep.”

”my blushy knight,” you coo, and he drags the blanket over your head. biting down on his lip to stop himself from joining your bubbly laughter, blushing more than ever. 

(the word knight sounds very pretty, when it’s falling from your lips.)

”i swear,” he exhales, heavy and exasperated, but you can hear the smile in his voice. ”just what am i to do with you?”

it’s fond. delicate, even in his bouts of teasing, the light instances of manhandling. and you’re happy, because he’s not apologizing anymore, and he’s happy because you aren’t crying anymore. give and take. there’s a rhythm to it, a point where everything else becomes background noise, whether it’s memories of a kidnapping or a decade-old guilt.

he stays with you all night, even after you’ve fallen asleep. just watching you, safeguarding you, checking your pulse every now and then. content to watch as your chest rises and falls, with the tender ticking of your heartbeat.

that night, you dream of a kind, kind wolf, and a painting yet to be finished. 

before you lies a field of stars.

you’re seated on a blanket, with a pretty knight to your left, up on top of a grassy hill. daffodils bloom around you, sweet nectar hanging in the air, a field of sunflowers waving at you from below. dragonflies greet you with a scratchy song. 

everything is perfect. a midnight rendezvous, a picnic under the stars — suguru’s own idea. to celebrate the time that you’ve spent together.

(well, that part was your idea. but you’re sure he appreciates it, too.)

the basket next to you is filled with fruit and berries, marmalade and jam, bottles of herbal tea. suguru’s delicious sandwiches. you bite into one of them, humming happily, and he’s quick to brush the occasional crumb from the corner of your lip, ghosting over your skin with a smile.

there’s another basket, too, just in front of you, that you brought on your own. hiding a secret; one you're just about to unveil. 

you clear your throat to get his attention.

like clockwork, he’s looking at you. listening, when  you tell him to close his eyes, only giving you a questioning raise of his brow and an amused exhale. 

you’re quick to lean forward, uncovering the basket, revealing the secret you’ve hidden so well. suguru is still waiting, indulgent, patient. you feel a little hesitant, but still part your lips.

“… okay. you can open them, now.”

he does. instantly, two ravens taking flight, and the sight that awaits them is that of a painting; a painting of a wolf, in the middle of the woods, empty armors and wilted sunflowers all around it. dragonflies and dragonflies, a knight just out of view.

he stares, silently, and you do your best to hide your growing nervosity. even as he takes it into his lap, and your gaze falls to the blanket below you. ”it’s… not my best work, but —” his eyes stay glued onto the painting, as you stumble blindly for the right words to say. wringing your hands together, clutching at the fabric of your sleeves. ”i’d… like you to have it. i mean, unless you —”

”thank you.”

you raise your head.

suguru is gazing at the canvas with the softest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen. melting amber, crinkled at the edges, accompanied by a sweet grin. 

”i’ll treasure it,” he vows, meeting your eyes, voice dripping with warmth. hand on his heart, and you can’t even poke fun at it. ”always.”

his earnest acceptance is enough to fluster you, enough to make you feel as it your heart is about to collapse, but he continues to look at the painting with enough awe to fill an empty lake with water, and it makes you terribly shy. 

until his smile drops.

”uh, actually — i…”

now it’s your turn to stare, silently, as he fumbles with something in the basket at his feet. gentle, as he takes out glass jars and wrapped sandwiches. out comes a sheet of paper. 

then he’s clearing his throat. handing it to you, pointedly avoiding your gaze. ”i’m not an artist, so you know. i just…” he coughs, a little out of his element. “well. here.”

with delicate hands, you accept it, bringing it down to your lap. big, curious eyes taking it in.

it’s a sketch — made with coal, a little smudged, but awfully charming. pretty, delicate.

it’s a sketch of a fox.

wide-eyed, all you can do is stare. gaze flitting up to meet his own, his nervous expression, before falling back to the little canine. ”you — this…” back and forth, over and over again. ”for — ?” 

you point to yourself. 

suguru chuckles. ”yes, it’s for you. who else?” he taps the pads of his fingers against the handle of the basket, watching you silently admire the mischievous fox. not saying anything; so he continues.

”like i said, i’m not an artist. you can always throw it away, if you’d —”

”i’m gonna frame it.”

…

”i'm gonna frame it,” you repeat, eyes shining with sincerity. a little manic. ”i’ll hang it on the wall of the castle hallway so everyone can see it. it’ll be there for centuries to come, passed down —”

”please don't —”

”d’you think a gold frame would ruin it? maybe a modest silver is best.” you turn to face him, ignoring his expression. ”oooh, hang on! the king knows this guy who makes them with real minerals. i’ll just —”

”your highness,” the knight cuts you off, almost with a squeak. ”please. it’s just a dumb drawing. i just… wanted to give it to you. that’s all.”

a pause. you look into his eyes, flickering with hesitance, an earnest desire for your approval only.

… so you hum, though a little hesitant.

”… alright. if you say so. i’ll hang it in my room, then.”

he sighs. relieved. ”that’s better. really, you —”

”thank you.” you whisper, blinking away the wetness at your lash-line. staring at the sketch with a dreamy, dreamy smile. ”i love it.”

you grin, happily, practically beaming. suguru wants to keep it there, always, on those pretty lips; he wants to lay his life on the line to protect it. but something tells him that would just make it fall. 

the air fills with peace; the scent of herbal tea, fresh strawberries, acrylic paint and hushed whispers. your own ritual, repeated over and over, a loving waltz. 

as always, it’s suguru who breaks the silence. shatters it with the tip of his tongue. 

”hey,” he calls, softly. “my lord.”

mouth full of bread, you simply look at him. chewing silently, attention piqued. swallowing with a gulp. he places his folded hands on his lap, exhaling a little breath. ”… i’ve been thinking.”

”uh oh.”

he gives you one of those silent, flat, unimpressed looks of his, and you quiet down with a grin and another mouthful. quirking a brow, he exhales amusedly, then shakes his head and continues.

”i retract my earlier statement.”

when you glance up again, he’s smiling. showing more teeth than usual, a little wider, a little wolfish. a little more himself. you want to paint it, keep it hidden away somewhere only you can see.

”if it was someone else — anyone else…” he trails off, tasting the words on his tongue. “i doubt i’d feel this way. i doubt i’d want to protect them as fervently.” his voice flows out like a river of gold, just a little scratchy. it always is, when it sounds this sincere. 

he meets your eyes, and everything falls into place. 

”you’ve become precious to me,” he admits. ”i can't remember what it felt like to not be yours.”

his tongue curls around a familiar set of syllables, and your name seeps from his lips like a prayer, a vow, a trickle of honey and wine. devotion sticks to his tongue, to the vowels, a heavy fondness — something devout. something you've only ever heard from the mouths of priests.

and then he’s smiling. 

”i think i’ll be your knight until the day i die,” he breathes, and deep down you know it’s a vow. “even if the king were to discard me of that title.”

silence.

(except for an increasingly loud mantra of tick-tocks, from the depths of your own chest, echoing in your ears. your knight is in front of you, he’s yours, and he’s smiling like he loves you. like he always will.)

”… suguru.”

he hums, eyes lidded, blinking slowly. serenely. he lets you cling to him, pull him close, practically dragging him into your lap.

”stay with me,” you plead, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. too desperate to feel embarrassed. ”forever. promise me.”

an exhale, right by your ear. it sounds so fond you could cry. 

“i promise,” he whispers, fingers intertwining with your own. a perfect puzzle piece, a functional clockwork. lifting your hand, bringing his glossy lips to your knuckle; where they belong. ”until death tears me away from you.”

”it won’t,” you deadpan, partly to distract him from the growing heat of your fingertips. mostly because it’s true. ”you won't let it.”

he smiles against your knuckle, breathing out an airy laugh. ”clever little thing…” his free hand goes to rest on your spine, as always, and you lean back to see him properly. knowing he’ll catch you if you fall.

“.. but yeah," he sighs. "i won’t.”

before you know it, you’re leaning back in. because his eyes are the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen, and his hair is just a little tousled, and he looks so kissable it aches.

his jaw trembles, a little, when you press your lips against the curve of it. his whole body seems to still, for a moment, and you pull back just to see if he’s blushing. he is. 

but he must have anticipated your teasing, because he’s tucking you under his chin before you can see it through. pressing you close. and he tuts, a click of his silver tongue, a touch of restraint. ”… you little tease,” comes a whisper. ”how am i supposed to hold back now?”

”don’t hold back, dummy,” you grin, muffled against the column of his throat. you just barely resist the urge to sink your teeth into the skin. ”you’re a bad actor, anyway. the worst.”

and he is. he’s been looking at your lips this whole time — he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.

suguru laughs, breathy, overflowing with fondness. chest rumbling with the noise, blending together with the rhythmic thumping of his clockwork heart. ”okay,” comes a soft lull of his tongue. ”i won’t, then.”

a drowsy feeling overtakes you, just as you feel his lips meet the crown of your head. it’s not much, but it’s a start. and it’s tender, tender enough to get you choked up, to get you to close your eyes to stop any tears from forming. because one person in this kingdom understands you, and he tells you that he’ll never leave. and you think you can actually find it in you to believe him. 

one person’s clockwork heart never breaks for you, and maybe that’s enough to convince you to stop trying to push it there.

”you can sleep, if you’d like,” is whispered against your hair. soft, soothing, his palm on your spine. ”i’ve got you. always.”

(one person in this world can make you feel safe, with just four little words. and isn’t that something?)

so you doze off, on the shoulder of your very own knight. your favorite knight, always and forever, a sword at his hip that was forged to protect you. or so he’ll tell you, years from now, when he’s got you in his lap, when there isn’t any need for him to act anymore.

and you dream a perfect dream. a dream of a wolf, and a fox, and a garden of stars.

[inevitablysomber-dark]

I was wondering what happened when Steve's wife found out that he cheated or has been cheating if she does.

 Steve (Unwanted)

Mildy Dark! Reader X Cheating! Steve

(OneShot)

Go below the marker if you'd like to skip to the story.

Warnings: Mentions of Cheating, restraints. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS DNI.

So I would like to state that when I read darker pieces with Steve, I prefer him as the dominant aggressor (if you will). Why? Well, because in canon, he’s such a goody-two-shoes. The thought of someone so well-regarded doing such depraved things really gets me going. However, when I received this ask, I never really put much thought into what kind of person Steve would get married to in this regard. Of course, Steve is obsessed with his wife, much like Bucky is with his. Of course, Steve would do anything to keep his wife, things Bucky had already done in Unwanted. But then I thought, what if she was a Sociopath? 

Then this fic was born. Enjoy. 

Check out my series Unwanted if you haven't alread (The universe where this Steve is from)

You never thought you’d find yourself in this situation, it was expected, but you didn’t take it seriously. 

THE Steve Rogers, the Golden Boy of the US of A, was being unfaithful to his wife. Ouch! Galavanting across the city with a coworker who had a husband of her own… Double Ouch!

You weren’t usually a vengeful bitch, but this circumstance had you seething. The affair had been with Sharon Carter, a woman who’d been in your home multiple times. Someone you’d even gone on double dates with until last year when you found out that she and Steve had been exchanging extremely friendly text messages and ridiculously long phone calls at ungodly hours.  

You tried not to let it get to you, with the threat of insecurities being brought up, but eventually, you had to tell Steve to stop messaging her and to stop inviting her into your home. 

He was always bad at listening. 

When you found he was still messaging her, he insisted it had only been due to some issues with work. 

A few weeks ago, Steve had gone to ‘visit’ Bucky, and you didn’t believe him. You thought he planned on seeing Sharon and was using Bucky as an excuse. You suspected it wouldn’t have been the first time. The thing was, you had no way to prove it, and you knew you couldn’t follow Steve without getting caught. You tried.

To your surprise, he’d been back in 45 minutes and spent the entire rest of the night fucking you into the bed. The feelings, the noises, and the smell all grew to be a bit much, and frankly, you couldn’t keep up. 

‘Did Sharon not feel like fucking?’ you asked when he finally laid on his back to rest. Your own eyes closed, and your body set in fatigue from the rigorous bonking.  

Sometimes you just couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut.

Steve just about had a fit, one would’ve thought that you questioned his manhood with the way he was berating you for your uncouth language. He left to get ready for work in a fit, and you just shrugged your shoulders. 

It wasn’t until you checked your phone that your suspicions had been confirmed.

Steve just admitted to me that he’d been cheating on you. 

The message comes in a few hours into your coital activities. It came from Bucky’s wife. You’d only met her a few times, but she seemed lovely.

 Why would she message you this? Did this mean that Steve went to go see her? Why would Steve go to visit Bucky’s wife? Why would Steve admit to cheating, to her? 

Receiving this news has been a blow to you. You loved Steve, and he loved you, at least you thought he did, and you suspected the cheating, but it didn’t feel as real as when you received that message. 

One moment, you didn’t know what to do, but then you knew exactly what to do all at once. 

Back to present day, you had Steve tied up in the buff, cock rock hard, pointing to the ceiling. He had a smirk on his face, and you had his eyes covered with a blindfold. 

You bent over the bed, giving a long lick on his frenulum, and sucked the tip into your mouth. The action causes your own pussy to dampen. You pulled him into your mouth a few more times until you felt a twitch in his shaft and removed yourself. 

“Babe,” he groaned. 

“Patience,” you say, climbing on his head and sitting on it. He engulfs your clit in no time, lapping away at your folds like a man starved as you grind your pelvis into his face, chasing your climax. When you finally release, he guzzles you down like a delicacy lost.

When you finally perch yourself on his cock, you push down a gasp escapes from your lips.  Steve groans impatiently as you stay still, basking in the stretch he gave you. 

You move your hips, grinding your clit  against his pelvis as you move him in and out of your cunt, you bend over to push your mouth against his in a sloppy kiss, resting your feet on his thighs, as you fucked yourself on his cock. The moment gets more intimate as you take charge and your juices flow. Steve braces his legs against the bed as he fucks upwards into your pussy, intensifying the sensation.

God, you were going to miss this. His penis, his mouth, his face, his body. Stevie Boy was a fine fucking specimen, and the thought that you lost him to fucking Sharon Carter, did something to you, and it wasn’t good.

Your anger, forced you down harder on his manhood, pushing both of you into a mind-blowing climax. He releases inside you, and you collapse into his restrained form. 

After a moment, you felt him twitch, indicating that he was ready for  round two. But you were done, so you got up, and started getting dressed. He seemed to sense that something was off and finally opted to speak. 

“So, What was that about?” He gave a nervous chuckle. 

You grab the TV remote and sit next to his subdued form on the bed, removing his blindfold, in the process. 

“Honey?” he asks. 

You turn on the TV, and several images of him and Sharon popped up on the screen, and that seemed to shut him up.  You had asked Nat for help in gathering evidence, and she was more than willing.

“It’s funny how brave people get when they think no one is paying attention,” you say, when gesturing at a photo of him and Sharon fucking on a beach.

He pulled on his cuffs and seems to be surprised when it doesn’t work.

“Vibranium cuffs,” you say. “I told Tony to make them, for more excitement in the bedroom.” you shrugged. That was a lie, you asked Pepper and she had Tony make them for you. You felt like he would’ve asked too many questions.

“Besides you haven’t even gotten to the best part,” you press a button on the remote, and there you are, getting railed doggy style by Sharon’s husband. “His cock isn’t as good as yours, but that hardly mattered.” you paused  “I still got to cum,”

Steve is livid, he pulls hard against the cuffs and for a moment you think the bed frame will break, but when you inspect it, you are safe, for now. 

“Tit for Tat,” you say.

“You grew cold and we stopped having sex-” he started, but you interrupted.

“Oh I’m sure you were fucking her long before then,” you state. “Don’t worry, I sent Sharon a copy of the presentation,” 

“You bitch! you’re going to fucking pay for this,” he growls. 

“Oh, look at that, the golden boy is making threats,” you say in an apathetic voice.

He pulls again, and you hear a ‘ting’ of something popping off, but he seems too angered to have noticed. 

You go into the nightstand and pull out some divorce papers, placing them on his chest and patting them twice.

“Don’t forget to sign these and send them to the office,” you say.

You pull a bag from under the bed and walk out. The last thing you hear before leaving is.

“Alexa, call Bucky,” with a loud growl. 

You laugh all the way to your car, and drive off. 

Of course, you were hurt, but it felt good, knowing that you sent the knife back.

[angrythingstarlight]

Can we focus more specifically on THIS part because I think I might have lost consciousness

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Smut. Mild mentions Choking. Orgasm denial. Mafia Buckys big ol c*ck. Mildy NSFW thots below. 

A/n: Written on my phone. Lets talk about that. 

Divider credit@maysdigitalarts and pic @rainbowkisses31

|Masterlist|Mafia!Masterlist|Vacation w/ Bucky|

You see him waiting for you when your driver, John, pulls up to the house on his private island. He’s gazing out the window, shirt open, revealing his cut abs, a thin trail of hair disappearing under the band of his loose black shorts.Bucky had to deal with some business before the two of you were supposed to leave. So he told you to have a spa day while he worked.

The plan was for you to arrive first after you were done at the spa. Because he likes to have you ready for him at all times whenever the two of you are on vacation. And you love it because he lavishes you in orgasms, love and attention.

He expected to walk in to find you on the bed wearing only his shirt.

But you’re running late.

Bucky doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Especially not when it comes to you.

You know better. Or you will very soon.

John is opening your door when your phone rings. You glance curiously at Bucky's name flashing on your screen and then at him where he’s still staring you down. He taps his phone on the glass once. Brows raised, mouth set in a firm line. Something dark and heady brewing in his glass blue eyes.

“Hey,” you draw out the word, clutching your phone to your ear.

“What did I tell you, kotehok?” His accent is thicker, laced with frustration.

“I’m only an hour late. You’re the one who insisted I get a massage and then I figured I might as well get my nails done since I was there.” You step out of the car, admiring your nails, his favorite color does look good on you. The car takes off and you start up the cobblestone path to the front door. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“And what I’m about to do to you isn’t my fault.” He laughs, flinging the door open.

He grabs you by the waist, plucking your phone from your hand, carelessly tossing it on the floor. You don’t have time to shriek, because his lips are on yours, chapped and sweet. His hands move up to the sides of your throat as he deepens the kiss, the taste of sweet whiskey lingers on his tongue and you greedily suck it until he moans in your mouth.

The room spins around you in a blur of colors as he breaks the kiss and pushes you into the very window he was staring out of and he slides his warm palms down your arms and places your forearms on the glass, spreading your legs with his thigh.

“Bucky,” you gasp, excitement flowing through your veins, feeling his cock pressing into the small of your back.

You look over your shoulder and your heart slams in your chest when you catch his gaze, the blue you love so much is now a thin rim of color around his lust-blown pupils. And you shiver. Bucky takes your chin and turns your face back to the glass.

“Good girl,” he hums in your ear, heat pools between your thighs at the praise. His head drops to your shoulder, peppering kisses along your vanilla-scented until he reaches the spot that makes your pulse race.

Bucky hooks his fingers under the strap of your dress and pushes it down until the sheer material falls to your heels.

The firm, smooth ridges of his abs brush over your back as he lifts your leg to position himself. Another gasp, airier and needy than before falls from your lips. His swollen, leaking head slips between your glistening folds. Fuck he feels good. You clench down, the need to be filled making your clit pulse.

“How long have you been wet for me, kotehok?” It’s a rhetorical question, he knows you’re always soaked around him and he doesn’t give you a chance to respond because he’s pushing into your slick, aching pussy.

Bucky tilts your head back, capturing your moans, kissing you as he goes deeper and deeper until you’re stretched around him, so full you want to cry out his name.

He mutters you feel so good, so tight against your lips, the soft rumble of his baritone melts in your mouth.

His languid pace builds into a steady rhythm, god he knows your body, his hips angled so he can hit that sensitive spot with each deep stroke until you have to break the kiss to press your forehead on the glass, sobbing his name. Your hands slip down the window, he grabs them, intertwining his fingers with yours, and pushes them back up.

“I got you, kotehok,” he reassures you, sweetly kissing the back of your neck as he fucks you harder, caging you in between his body and the window. The knot in your belly winds tighter, fiery sensations flowing through your veins. “Are you close?”

“God yes,” you slur, your orgasm begins to encompass you. Bucky prides himself on the fact that he can get you to cum with just his cock and you will, fuck yes, you will, you think if his cock glides across your spot again if he keeps pounding into you, fast and deep, if he just keeps doing that. “S’close Bucky, don’t stop, please, please.”

“Oh I won’t,” he promises, a smirk pulls at the corner of his pink lips. “But I didn’t say you could cum kotehok.”

Fuck.

You whimper, mouth opening to beg, but he takes your hand and places it around your throat, his larger hand squeezing over top of yours. “You made me wait. So now you’re going to wait.”

 He bends down, his eyes catching your glossy ones. “And you’re going to take every inch while you do.”

[osamusriceballs]

(No) Strings Attached

Sakusa x fem Reader

Warnings: NSFW (18+)

Words: 1,8k

About: A friends with benefits relationship with Sakusa.

________________

"Fuck, Kiyoomi-"

The sound of bare skin slapping against each other fills the room, one of your hands tightly gripping his bare back and leaving a trail of desperate red marks while your legs are tightly wrapped around his hips, urging him to go faster and deeper. His head is buried in the crook of your neck, his deep and heavy breaths right next to your ear making you feel like you could explode any second. It's hot, so hot, the way he fucks you slowly, making sure you feel every single thrust, every single inch of his cock inside of you, while his lips press against your neck ever so softly-

A moan gets stuck in your throat when his hand suddenly finds yours, his fingers quickly intervening with yours and squeezing your hand firmly- a sudden intimate gesture, that makes you widen your eyes in surprise. You don't have time to question his action, your mind too distracted when Sakusa keeps on rolling his hips, moving faster just a little bit, still thrusting smoothly inside of you again and again. A groan leaves his lips when he pulls back and you feel heat raise to your cheeks when he looks down on your naked bodies and watches how his cock disappears between your folds, his movements even slowing down to have a proper look. He gaze moves to your face, his dark eyes intently staring at yours, and he suddenly leans down, connecting his sweaty forehead to yours. His face reveals none of his thoughts while he silently stays in that position, his hips barely moving at this point, his weight on top of you almost crushing you. Your wet lips part, your breath comes hitched out of your mouth when he slowly leans down to kiss you deeply.

The moment feels so painfully intimate, your bodies connected in the closest way possible, his lips move against yours in a loving and delicate way- that's unusual for Sakusa, and you both know that.

Your whole relationship started when both of you drunkenly met in a club a few months ago- the very first time you both ever met outside of your workspace. You barely remember anything that happened in the club, just that you were out with your friends and that you were deeply surprised when you met Sakusa there too. He's usually not the type to go drinking, hell, to actually go out on a Friday night- but there he was with a dark button up shirt that perfectly fit his build body, the sleeves rolled up and showed his toned arms- he was definitely the center of attention that night. You were mildy surprised when HE actually came to greet you, your hazy mind never considering the possibility that he could remeber your name, leave alone feeling the urge to talk to you, even though you technically see each other everyday at work.

The rest is a blur, some faint memories of your friends elbowing you and telling you to catch "that snack, who keeps eye-fucking you", you being flustered when you realize that he heard them but tactfully chose not to react to their comments and then how the two of you find yourself at a bar, having one shot after another, the distance between the two of you basically gone by the end of the night when you somehow sit on his lap.

Everything gets crystal clear the second you entered Sakusa's apartment though. How you thought it was nice and clean, how you both stood in the bathroom, giggling while he helped you wash your hands and removing your makeup. How he laughed, a rare but extremely pleasant sound with his deep baritone, when you smeared soap on his shirt- and how you were almost melting at how carefully he held your hand and guided you to the guest room to sleep. He was just as drunk as you, continuosly stating that he barely drinks due to his profession, but he had still been drinking probably twice the amount you had. He made an attempt to leave the room but you grabbed his hand when he turned around and told him to stay.

Then how you suddenly sat on his lap once again- this time on the bed, his strong hands guiding you to straddle him on his muscular thighs- hesitation on both of your sides for a second but when your eyes locked, you were certain about one thing. That you want this.

He fucked you all night, dragging countless orgasms from your sensitive body with his thick cock, you could barely feel your legs when he mercilessly pounded into you, encouraged by your constant moans and pleas. You're pretty sure that his neighbors heard you scream his name like a prayer, your throat was pretty sore the next day, but being drunk and high on Sakusa, you don't really care. You had been pleasantly surprised when he wrapped his hand around your throat while he thrusts into you, the sight of the naked volleyball pro on top of you, holding you firmly under him and fucking you mercilessly forever engraved in your memory. That night showed you that having sex with Sakusa Kiyoomi is addictive. You could never get enough of him, mentally cursing him for setting your standards so high.

You were again surprised when you saw a message on your phone two days later, just a short "hey" from an unknown number, but you quickly figured it was Sakusa. He hadn't left your mind the past few days, your body secretly craving for his attention again, thinking about how he shamelessly ate you out, or how he fucked you with his ever so flexible fingers, curling them at angles that should be impossible, yet brought you pleasure that you never thought was possible. He ruined you for everyone else in just a single night. Did you have the same effect on him?

You were on cloud seven when he proposed to meet again, stating that he enjoyed the night and was hoping you did so too. From then on you started to meet frequently, you found yourself under the mysterious dark-haired male at least twice a week, sometimes on top of him, but no matter where, you were always satisfied deeply.

Sakusa is like a drug for you. He knows how to touch you, how to make your knees weak, how to control his body no matter how needy his actually is, to hold back until you reach your high first- sometimes also second or third time before he even considers to chase his own. The sexual tension between the two of you is undeniable- and the little touches and stolen kisses in the locker room are always a promise for a wild night.

He refused to get emotionally closer to you though, even keeping his distance at work and strictly talking about volleyball when you had to interact, and you fully respect that, being happy with the silent agreement you had. Just sex, no strings attached.

That's why your eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he grabbed your hand and fucked you- like you actually mean something to him. He's moaning your name between kisses, your body on fire now with your hips arching to meet his thrusts. "Faster, please-" you whine, your eyes shutting close and you barely manage to reciprocate the kiss when he speeds up, the tip of his cock now hitting your most sensitive spot again and again.

"You feel so good-" he rasps, and you moan as response, your legs involuntarily tighten around his hips as pleasure runs through your body, little jolts of electricity going from between your legs right through your body. You feel his cock throbbing inside of you, the veins on his arms popping out from the force it takes him to hold back. "Fuck- you're so hot. So fucking hot- how- dare you-" He groans through gritted teeth, almost angrily when you moan his name as response in a desperate and breathless way. "What?" you manage to voice out, taken aback by his sudden emotional outburst. His pace speeds up and you can barely focus on his words, just feeling him inside of you, overwhelmed by pleasure-

"You- I can't stop thinking about you. How I want to ruin that pretty little cunt every time I see you, how I want to spank your bratty ass when you flirt with that disgusting Miya guy and show you that-" he stops and his thrusts slow down, but quickly get harder, each word fueling his emotions, his hand tightly gripping yours as he keeps on fucking you. Your walls clench when you feel him twitch inside of you- he is close too.

"Show me what?" You move your hand to his hair and pull his head back, forcing him to look at you, not caring about the fact that he will definitively give you a good spanking session for that later- you'd enjoy that anyways.

His eyes are captivating, his expression filled with lust but also a softness that you have never seen on him before- it makes you even more breathless. "Show you that only I can make you feel this good. Show you that you should be mine, and only mine to ruin and touch."

You cry out when he suddenly reaches down between your bodies and presses on your clit, rubbing it with two of his fingers- and that's when you lose it. The orgasm that rushes over your body is one of the most intense you ever had, your legs caging his body tightly while he trusts into you, filling you up so good while your cunt is spasming and tightening around his cock. You barely realize how his hips stutter when he chases his own high, his body eventually stilling when he cums inside of you, filling you up with hot ropes of cum while grabbing your hand tightly. Your name leaves his lips, you faintly hear his voice over your loud moans, your heart almost exploding in your chest while you're on your high, holding tightly onto his hand too with your other hand around his broad shoulders to keep him close.

Sakusa finally collapses on top of you, his cock twitching a few times in your oversensitive pussy before your legs release him and let go of his body. You feel the soreness in your thighs, your body protesting when you relax and lean back into the mattress, desperately trying to catch your breath.

Sakusa doesn't move for a while, your hand now coming up to play with his dark hair, making a satisfied grunt leave his lips. His words replay in your mind again and again, a sudden warm feeling rising from your chest when you recalled how he called you his, and his only-

Maybe there are strings attached.

[vaudel]

masquerade, t.m.r [part two]

[part one]

summary: tom forgets to give reader amortenia

Word count: 0.5k words

Warnings: headache, love potion (lmk if there are any more warnings)

Requested by: @weebjai1 im so so so so sorry that i didnt do this sooner- i forgot about your request sdjskdjs

This could've been better, but I didn't originally plan on making a pt.2 on this so I left it on a cliffhanger and im shit at continuing them :/

The girl's eyes fluttered open to find her husband laying beside her, fast asleep with his chest rising and falling.

She slowly got up and detached herself from the soft realm of their bed and made her way to the kitchen.

Her head was throbbing as her entire body was screaming as she entered the kitchen and opened a cabinet and began looking for the calming draught.

She finally found some gulped the liquid down, her headache mildy relieved. She heard Tom behind her, she usually would have a burst of love and affection at the sight of her husband but now she only felt lava flowing through her veins.

"What's wrong, darling?" he asked with his usual deep morning voice and with squinted eyes.

"Nothing Tom" she said through gritted teeth "I just got a mild headache"

A look of worry washed over Tom's eyes as he walked over to her and picked her aching body up. His soft lips brushed against hers as he walked over to the couch and set her down.

"I'll make you some tea, you'd like that won't you?" he said analyzing her from head to toe. The girl had a pout and her eyebrows crossed together as she matched his gaze.

She didn't know why but she felt a pang of hatred for the man which was out of the usual. She brushed it off thinking that she probably had too much firewhiskey at Lestrange's party honoring the dark lord.

After a couple minutes, Tom strode back into the living room with two teacups in both his hands. He offered her one which she reluctantly took, but dismissed the suspicions as soon as she smelt the hypnotizing scent of the tea. It smelt of cigarette's and cologne just like every time Tom made her tea.

She took a sip of it and immediately felt her nerves relax from the warm liquid. The tea was quickly gulped down till the teacup was completely empty.

She looked up at Tom who had a look of amusement on his face as the girl grinned at him.

"Are you feeling better now love?" he spoke after setting the teacup down on the table.

"I feel much better now, thank you" the girl smiled as she too set down the table and made her way to where Tom sat.

He pulled her onto his lap and peppered her face with kisses and then she did the same.

The girl loved moments like these, with her beloved husband with her and with no worry in the world as the sun began to rise and fill the room with orange hues from the gap between the curtains.

"I love you"

"I love you too Tom"

Tom stood at the cauldron watching it bubble and splutter as Tom prepared the next batch of amortenia.

His heart had crawled up his throat at the sight of his lovely doll looking him like that, she had almost opened the curtain of his façade and he couldn't have that, he couldn't have her leaving him.

He won't make the same mistake as his cowardly mother did, he would give her a higher dose of the potion to keep her grounded with him.

After all, he couldn't remove his mask in their lovely little masquerade.

[mythicalmyles]

(18+ Helen x Male Reader mildy dub, bullying)

This time was different, his eyes had darkened and rage filled his features rather then the sadness you were use to. You had to stop yourself gulping, if looks could kill you wouldn’t be standing. One of your friends grabbed your shoulder and started pulling you to class, you eventually ripped your eyes off of Helens form and followed your friends. You didn’t know why they gave the boy so much shit, you had transferred a few weeks ago and saw them all ganging up on the other. Rather then help you chose to join in on the bullying, you wanted to be popular more then anything and that was what you had achieved. Now you honestly felt guilty, you hadn’t eaten the passed few days due to it. Helen could’ve easily floored you if he had been on your own. You shook the thoughts out of your head, huffing out before entering your class and sitting down, prepared for a long boring lecture.

You let out a loud groan as you slammed your palms against your head, the memory of earlier still running through your mind. A hungry howl filled the room, your stomach begging for food but you couldn’t bring yourself to get up. You felt like you was in too deep. You let out another huff as you turned to your side, staring out at the moonlight. Your eyes drooped as you watched cloud’s pass by, it didn’t take long for you to slip into sleep.

The door handle to your room began to turn, you forgetting to lock it before you had ran into your bed. A masked man let out a chuckle, of course the (H/C) was this stupid. He opened the door quietly, peeking into the messy room. He paused once he noticed a young male sleeping, the (H/C) that had caused him so much torment was lying there, sleeping as peacefully as could be. The masked mans lips dropped and he frowned, anger coursing through his veins. His eyes couldn’t help but take in the others form, freezing once he noticed the other was only in a jumper. Bare legs wrapped around the sheets, he couldn’t help but bite his lip once his eyes landed on your thighs. He let out a sharp breathe before closing and locking the door, you weren't so powerful now, half naked, no friends around to help.

Giddiness suddenly rung through the masked man, as he hit the moonlight, his blood covered clothes were revealed. The dark stains of those who tortured him, he had always thought about getting revenge but he had been too much of a coward before, but when that smug little (H/C) looked him in the eyes and smirked after beating the hell out of him it was like something had snapped in Helen’s mind. He couldn’t deny that when the little pricks tongue dipped out to lick his lip the only thoughts that filled his mind were better things that he could do with that mouth. His head tilted as he stood infront of your sleeping body, his hands coming to unbuckle his belt. His breathing stirred up as dirty thoughts filled his mind, his bloodlust turning into something else.

He pulled his belt out of the hoops of his jeans and used it to tie your hands to his bed, the shifting causing your shirt to rise up. Helen couldn’t stop himself as he used one hand to tighten the belt and the other to place on your stomach, pushing up and taking the jumper with it. Helen licked his lips as he exposed your body to himself, he wondered if you had ever let one of your friends take you. He let out a snort, he wouldn’t be surprised. Those kids were all the same and they were always screwing each others brains out, Helen wanted to know what it felt like. His breathing got harder as anger suddenly filled him, what if you had let your friends pass you around like some whore? That thought really angered him, he wanted to be the one to take everything from the smaller male. He wanted you to depend on him, beg for him.

He was gonna teach you a lesson the you would never forget.

He grabbed a hold of your neck, tight enough to have you jolting up and trying to pry his hands off. He couldn’t help the psychotic laugh that left him, glee suddenly filling him up as fearful (E/C) eyes stared back at him. It felt good, he was in control now. He had all of the power here and there was nothing you could do, any friends you could’ve called on were dead. Their intestines coating their rooms, he figured he had at least until dawn he should get to use you as he pleased. He stopped choking you for a second, watching you choke and cough as you tried to suck air back into your lungs. Helens licked his lips as he watched tears roll down your cheeks. Toby leaned forwards. “C'mon baby, you know you love it.” You froze, recognising both the voice and words, it was something he had said during an encounter with Helen.

Horror flooded through you as everything clicked together.

You had been horrified at your own words after, vowing to never do it again and you hadn’t. But you couldn’t help but feel that this was karma, you looked the other up and down, you knew you weren't wrong about it being Helen but he almost… seemed bigger, stronger. Fear filled your guts as you noticed the dark reddish brown stained on the other, you couldn’t help as your chest started to rise and fall rapidly. Anxiety over whelmed you as you realized that you were completely at the others mercy. “Please don’t kill me. Please.” You begged, tears openly falling as you begged for your life. You froze when Helen began laughing, arching back as he cackled, hands coming up to cover his face. You shook and sobbed more, you knew you'd fucked up bad this time.

“Shhh sh sh.” You whimpered as Helens hand covered your mouth. “You’re gonna be a good boy for me aren't you.” He shook your face, emphasizing his point on you being a ‘good boy’. You couldn’t deny that those words caused something to stir deep inside of you, your cock twitching with interest. Helen grabbed one of your thighs and slipped between them, pushing himself close to the others groin, hips keeping your legs nice and spread. You let out a little groan as the others crotch brushed against yours, your eyes closing for a second.

You lay there for a moment motionlessly, Helen gripped your hoodie by the neckline and yanked you up, so close your noses were almost touching. Fear filled back up in your eyes, but the lust was still there. “Beg for my cock, be a good boy and beg for my forgiveness.” Helen nuzzled the you before letting go and watching you drop back down, he watched as you adjusted yourself, biting your lip. “Please.” Helen didn’t move except to cock his head, staring expectantly through the holes in his mask. You let out a deep breath before you began begging, for anything, for Helen to please fuck him, to forgive him, how sorry he was. Eventually Helen pressed his lips against yours, his tongue quickly delving into your mouth and taking control. You moaned, Helens hand came up and held onto your neck while the other slipped behind you and quickly made its way to your hole, hands gripping and spreading your ass.

You arched your back, encouraging the touch. Your mind swirled with lust as a finger worked its way in, he must’ve lubed it up without you noticing as it slid in easily. It didn’t take long before Helen could push in another finger, scissoring and opening you up more. You didn’t bother trying to stop the moans that fell from your lips, you were loosing your mind. You needed Helen, you tried to beg him but it sounded more like incohesive garbage. Yet you guessed Helen had understood you as he pulled his trousers and boxers down, revealing his rather impressive cock.

Helens hands quickly gripped your throat, causing drool to pool out the other as he shoved himself deep into you and began railing into you. The sound of skin slapping rang out throughout your dorm along with the sounds of moaning and grunting, you found yourself loving the defenceless feeling, you loved the way Helen had dominated you. The feeling of having no control drove you insane. It didn’t take long for cum to come shooting out of your cock, some even hitting your own face. Your mouth was ajar as you stared up at Helen, weakly moaning as the he continued fucking you at an almost brutal pace. While the over stimulation stung a little you couldn’t help but still moan with pleasure as the others cock rubbed against your prostate, hitting deep inside of you. “You love this cock right?” You nodded. “Yes. Yes.” Helen groaned, he wanted nothing more then to keep inside of you, filling you up. Eventually after a few rough thrusts Helen came, shooting deep inside you who moaned. Helen fell on top of you, yoursweat skin sticking together but neither wanted to move. “You’ll be coming with me.” You just hummed and cuddled closer to Helen, who’s mask was now pushed over his head.

[specialbrewbutterbeer]

More Than Just Nerves (Part III)

Regulus Black x Platonic!Reader (Arranged Marriage Fic)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Words: 6680

TW: Alcohol, Sex (not graphically decribed or anything), mildy injury at the very end

A/N: It's taken a while to get this out, I wasn't sure how I wanted this part to go, or if this would be the last one, and when I started I didn't think it would be good enough to bother posting, but I persevered and I actually think there are some pretty good parts in here! I really hope you enjoy it!

Any feedback or requests are very welcome! (and useful!) 

Masterlist (X)

Requests Page (X)

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

The whole event had been planned for four months. The dress was designed and made especially for her, a modest satin gown, buttons running down the full length sleeves and back. The venue was set, the guests had been invited and every detail of the day was planned in classic, elaborate style. Every moment flaunting wealth and their class.

Everything was beautiful. The venue was a great gothic cathedral, flooded with light that was tinted through the stained glass. The ceilings were vaulted and painted with constellations and clouds and cherubs. The entire place smelt strongly of incense and everytime you brushed past the large flower arrangements you could smell the honeysuckle and rich red and yellow roses. Their perfume was sweet and light, whilst the incense was much heavier, all setting the scene for the day.

The cake was large, and simple. Soft vanilla sponge, each of the three tiers filled with buttercream, and covered in fondant and delicate sugar flowers. It was beautiful, and had been delivered to the reception venue, the ballroom of a relative's summer estate in the nearby countryside, early in the morning of the wedding day.

Truly everything was ready, apart from, it could be mentioned, the bride and groom.

The week leading up to the wedding had been filled with fittings and preparation. Narcissa Malfoy, Reg's cousin, who seemed to have taken a shine to (Y/n), was given the task of bridesmaid. She looked so beautiful in the dark royal blue velevet dress that just stuck to her slim form, (Y/n) was sure that she would outshine her by a mile, though she didn't really mind.

Regulus would have had his brother as best man, but considering the circumstances he knew it would never be possible, so he simply had no one.

They hadn't seen eachother that week. Considering they had spent most of their lives together, this was strange, spending such a long time apart. All Regulus longed for now was to see the young woman he loved again, and he knew it would be at the end of the aisle.

That morning, (Y/n) woke up, in her childhood bedroom, knowing she had slept her last night there. She buried her head in her pillow, soft and familiar. The cold morning light streamed in through the blinds and seemed to blind her as she lifted her head and ran her fingers through her hair.

It was still early so she had a few minutes to clear her head. Her stomach was swirling and a nauseous feeling had surfaced. A shiver ran down her spine. She wore only a pair of shorts and a vest, and the late autumn air gave her goosebumps up and down her bare arms and legs. 

Today was her wedding day. It hadn't set in yet. (Y/n) pushed her hand up and rested on the pillow in front of her face. She twisted her hand, letting her engagement ring glint in the light. She sighed and closed her eyes again. Squeezing them closed she tried to shake of the dread she felt. She didn't dread Regulus, she dreaded marriage. She had been sure she was okay with it, she was in some ways, but she hadn't been prepared for how quick it would all be. Both she and Reg were barely 18, and it felt so fast. She was about to be married and she was frankly terrified.

It was then that she heard a knock on her door, and her mother's voice telling her to get up and get ready for breakfast. For now this instruction gave her something to do and she was more focused on getting ready for the day than her fear.

But it stirred again as she paused, brushing her hair through, looking in the mirror, seeing her ring again and being reminded of what today would mean for her life.

She made her way downstairs in her dressing gown, meeting Walburga and her Mother in the kitchen, where Narcissa was already sat. Her father was in his study, and would be out in a little while according to her mother.

Breakfast was quite, Walburga encouraged her to eat lots of fruit as 'you'll want to have energy for the day but miss the bloating'. She didn't have the capacity to refuse the woman, but equally she still felt deeply nauseous, so ate a handful of grapes and a fig that was given to her.

After this all three women ushered her upstairs, making her feel a little like they were small dogs about to nip at her ankles if she didn't hurry up. 

Narcissa diverted to go and get her own dress on, whilst (Y/n) was pushed into her own room.

Here she sat back down at her dressing table and she began to get ready.

Both her mother and Walburga were fussing, her mother pinning her hair and out of her face with small gold pins. Walburga for now was only watching, discussing and passing judgement with Mrs (Y/l/n). The comments weren't negative so far, but she certainly made her opinions known when something was pinned incorrectly.

(Y/n) sat still, quietly allowing the mothers to induldge themselves in the wedding day excitements that she herself couldn't bring herself to enjoy. After all, this was the wedding of their only children, and this was their one chance to impose themselves.

Then, delicately, as her mother finally ceased, she began softly brushing a dark eyeliner onto her lids, and brushing through her lashes with mascara. Then a dab of concealer underneath the eyes, then a pass of blush and bronzer across the cheeks and blood red lipstick, it seemed in only moments her make up was finsihed. This lead to the next stage of preparation. The dress, was retrieved by (Y/n)'s mother from somewhere in the house. As she walked in, by now Narcissa was also in the room, having slipped into her own dress and donned sultry and smokey eyeshadow. As Mrs (Y/l/n) walked in, the dress draped across her arms, blinding white and so smooth. Something about it was intimidating, and (Y/n) almost wanted to shy away from it. And yet moments later, she was stepping into it. Underneath she had a tight corset and white lace underwear, with a garter to match. She held tightly onto the arm of Walburga, who had a sly smile on as she helped her daughter-in-law to be into her wedding dress.

Without speaking, the three women seemed to surround her, and button her into the dress, constricting her even further than the corset already had. The nausea was worsening, her head was reeling, so much so that she felt even less like herself than she had when she woke up.

Before they continued, and after the dress was snugly on the body of the poor young woman and the others had stood back, admiring her like a doll, attention turned to the matters of 'something old, something new, something borrowed something blue, and a sixpence in her shoe.

"Here my dear." Walburga smiled, sincerely for once, handing (Y/n) an ancient looking red velvet box, about the size of an outstretched hand and an inch thick.

Taking it in her hands, (Y/n) delicately opened it, revealing a three piece set, a necklace, earrings and a bracelet, all diamond and gold. They were pieces of artwork, intricate and gleeming. The necklace trailed like a vine, forming leafish and included fleur de lis like shapes. The set sparkled in the morning light and it shocked (Y/n) out of her fear for a few seconds.

"These are yours now dear, I have had them since my wedding day and you will wear them until it's your turn to pass them down to your daughter." Walburga told her firmly, before picking up the necklace and placing it around (Y/n)'s neck.

(Y/n) smiled, desperate to prove herself greatful for the honour of being bestowed with the jewels, she brought her hand up to feel the cold stones on her much warmer skin.

"These are your something old." She stood back satisfied as Narcissa clasped the bracelet onto (Y/n)'s wrist and the earrings pinned into her ears.

Next was her mother's turn, with tears in her eyes she placed a thin golden band of tiny enamel and pearl blossoms onto her head, pinning it in place. This had been worn on her mother's wedding day, and this would be her something borrowed. Her mother clung onto Walburga's arm, a glint of pride in her eye.

The something blue were her satin heels, simple and a small bow on the back. Inside the left shoe had been placed a sixpence, as tradition dictated. Now all was left was the something new.

All three of the other women had been ready in their own dresses, and feathered fancinators for the elder two women, for a while, it remained only for the bride to continue on her way.

Narcissa stepped forward, holding an incredibly long lace veil in her arms, carefully she pinned it into (Y/n)'s hair and pulled the blusher over her face. The train of it was cathedral length, fitting for the venue, and the blusher came to just below the shoulders. She was shrouded and beautiful. The house was almost entirely silent, and as she decended the stairs, she met her father, who as usual was colder than you would imagine a father would be on his only daughter's wedding day. Everyone seemed to sense the apprehension of the bride and this only made them hurry things along before she could think to protest. 

Arm in arm with her father and her bridesmaid holding her train and veil off of the floor, they made their way to a large dark green car, her legs were shaking and the blood had drained from her face, she could tell. This would take them to the cathedral.

She was bundled in and as she watched the place she grow up in slide away from around her as the car pulled away, she felt her grip tighten around her bouquet. 

"Don't be so scared dear, you'll soon realise that this is the most important day of your life." Narcissa turned and told her, casually and then turned to look out the window again. These words were meant to be comforting but only seemed ominus to (Y/n). 

There was a second car ahead, where the two mothers had taken the forefront, making sure everything they had left in place was perfect for the arrival of their precious bride.

Slowly she could see the dome and spires of the cathedral in the distance. She was so close to leaping out of the car and running, but she knew she wouldn't get far if she had tried. Her stomach was in knots and she was getting light-headed. Her knuckles were white with the tightened grip on her bouquet and she was beginning to find it hard to breathe properly.

Her father, sat across from her and Narcissa, checked his watch. They had arrived exactly on time.

From inside she could hear the organ beginning to play. First the other two people in the car stepped out, whilst (Y/n) lingered inside, waiting for her cue. Her hands were shaking now. She closed her eyes tightly and prayed that she had made the right decision. She didn't open them again until she heard the click of the door and felt her father's hand reach out and place itself heavily on her shoulder.

She took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, facing head on the large doors that would lead her into the next phase of her life. There was no excitement in her and no happiness, only now resignation and some element of determination to continue on. 

The doors creaked open and her father threaded his arm through hers, almost pulling her initially inside, clearly still worried about any of her reluctance.

But suddenly there was a rush of adrenaline that took her over. She now knew there was no escape so all she could do is what was expected of her. So she stood up straight and walked with confidence beside her father.

Behind her veil no one could see the remains of her fear in her eyes, or the way her lip wobbled as she saw Regulus, stood alone at the other end of the aisle. Waiting for her. He stood tall and proud, though similarly to his bride, not particularly happily. Or he hadn't until he saw her. Then his eyes sparkled and he visibly took a large breath of air. 

The organ thundered a processional tune but (Y/n) was sure her heart was beating louder. All eyes were on her and her's were trained on Reg. It seemed that with every step closer to his her fear melted away just a touch more. 

So much so that by the time she had reached him, and taken his reassuring hand, she had almost forgotten herself and the place she was in. Suddenly everything was perfect as they stood together. The vows went smoothly, and all Regulus longed for was to lift the veil away from her shrouded face and see her beautiful features.

Finally the moment came, they exchanged rings and they were pronounced man and wife. Both of their hearts seemed to swell to bursting then, and Reg squeezed (Y/n)'s hand tight.

He nervously lifted the veil, revealing her face into the dappled light of the cathedral, the jewels that adorned her sparkled just as bright as the tear that ran hot down her cheek and Reg couldn't stop himself as he cupped her face and place a hand on her waist. Pulling her toward him, they shared their first tender kiss. One that was possibly over due between them.

Of all the lips that either of their's had crashed into, drunkenly or regrettably or passionately, they found eachother's to be the sweetest.

There was some relief as the bells rang loud above and the couple were ushered out, smiling, back into the car to take them to the reception.

In the car (Y/n) held her new husbands hand tight and buried her face in his shoulder.

"Reg-" she started before realising she had nothing to say, all she wanted to do really was cry. The past morning had been a build up and release of tension it had become overwhelming.

"Darling-" Regulus smiled and laughed, his heart still pounding and barely being able to belive that what they had been waiting for their entire lives had finally just happened.

"We're married." He breathed out his words, shocked.

(Y/n) looked up at him, looked him in the eyes and saw how happy he was. Something in her was relieved about that and she let herself breathe and smile back at him.

"We are." She replied and it began to set in for her too.

"Can I kiss you again?" He asked, and she nodded. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around Reg's neck and pulled him in. The kiss they had shhared in front of the crowds inside the cathedral was gentle and tender, this was much more passionate. And yet they pulled away and, with their fingers still tangled and bodies pressed together in the backseat of the car, seemed shy. A gentle blush decorated (Y/n)'s cheeks. They had never claimed to be in love, nor declaired any such sentiment to eachother, so where this had come from they weren't sure- but as they were husband and wife- it didn't feel wrong.

The ballroom where the reception was held was also a beautiful place, garlands of the wedding flowers were hung from the walls and there was golden candlelight everywhere. Speeches were made, and the amount of alcohol drunk must have been huge. At somepoint in the night, slightly drunk, (Y/n) missing her heels and Reg missing his tie and jacket, they found themselves on the dancefloor. The later the night got the less formal it got. Reg twirled his bride around, and laughed. He felt like he hadn't laughed in so long, and he'd missed her.

In the end the day was successful. The parents were satisfied and the bride and groom seemed happy and cooperative.

Next thing (Y/n) knew, she was waking up in a bed, bright morning light hurting her head, hungover from the night before. She felt something heavy resting on her waist and someone's breath on the back of her neck. She knew it was Reg, she recognised his perfume.

For a moment she panicked, remembering the night before, the night they'd spent together, both drunk and both happy. For a moment her heart sped up and her hwad was swimming.

How could she have fucked Reg? Her best friend? What an idiot-

Then she remembered, the man she had fucked was also the man she was married to. She exhaled and rolled her eyes and her own ridiculousness. 

As she did she felt Reg pull her closer into him, half asleep he rested his head in the crook of her neck and softly kissed her there too. (Y/n) blushed, still unused to this new form of affection, but enjoying it.

Quickly she fell back to sleep, sleeping off the hangover seeming a better bet than trying to cure it any other way.

Next time around, Reg awoke first. It was about eleven am by now, but he didn't feel like getting up yet. He liked the feeling of their bodies together, warm and safe. Although this was all new between them, she seemed constant and familiar. 

He felt like the luckiest man alive to have her as his own, and he wanted to prove to her that she hadn't made a mistake; he was still partially convinced that (Y/n) didn't want to be married to him. Though it was too late now, with no escape for either of them all he could do was his best.

Still draped around her neck were the jewels that he recognized, for some reason Regulus felt that those were what made their marraige feel real. He inhaled, smelling her sweet perfume, mixed with bitter champagne. 

Slowly he pulled himself away from her, reluctant to leave her, enjoying the feeling of her skin under his fingertips and the warmth of her.

He made extra care to be quiet as he tiptoes around the room. It was mildly familiar, they had both seen it, the house that had been purchased as a wedding gift from his parents for them to live in. It was nice, similar to Grimmauld Place, but it hadn't yet had it's soul killed. It still didn't feel like theirs, but it wasn't unpleasant. 

Reg was careful not to tread on his own clothes strewn on the floor, or indeed his bride's dress, in a crumpled pile at the foot of the bed. He smiled as he just about remembered the night before, though they were both rather drunk and the memory was slightly foggy. Eventually he got around to the wardrobe, which didn't have much in, plucking out his comfiest tshirt and joggers, intending not to leave the house all day. 

He shuffled into his clothes and headed downstairs as quietly as possible. He crept across the cold wooden floors, trying to remember where the kitchen was. He had to avoid boxes and boxes of things, wedding presents wrapped in fancy paper, moving boxes and things that his mother had ordered for the house- one of which he figured out was a kettle. When he stubbed his toes on it that is.

He picked it up, trying not to swear at his throbbing pain in his foot. Bringing it with him he pulled the door of the kitchen open, its creaks echoing though the house. Placing it on the counter he pulled it open and plugged it in, filling it with water once he was sure he hadn't already broken it with the kicking he'd given it earlier.

He returned to the hallway, looking through a box labled 'Grandmama's Tea Set' that had also been passed down to the couple. It contained a vile sage green tea set, with guilded pictures of orange slices and blossoms. He retrieved two cups, and a tin of tea bags, as well as a littler box he was sure had some cutlery in, and got back just in time to catch the kettle boiling.

He plopped a bag in each cup, and poured in the water, stirring with a teaspoon he'd found in the little box.

This was when he realized he didn't have any milk. Fortunately he did have some skill in transfiguration. So, he went to hall and found the milk jug from the tea set, filled it with water and scrabbled to find his wand. He wasn't sure where it was, but soon remembered that it was in his jacket pocket, which he had left hanging on the banister when they'd gotten in the night before.

He actually found the jacket on the floor beside the banister, that may have been because he wasn't exactly concentrating on the jacket when he put it there, he was in a rush and had much better things to think about.

Finally he was managing to get these cups of tea made. He gave a flick of the wrist toward the jug of water, and with a quiet fizz it clouded into milk. He smiled, pouring a touch into the tea cups and stirring. He picked on up and wrapped his hands around it, warming his hands on the hot cup. He took a sip, satisfying his thirst for a moment. Then he picked up the other cup and made his way back up to the bedroom. He placed it by (Y/n)'s bedside and put his own on his own bedside table, and sat down gently beside his other half, who was was still soundly asleep.

Reg placed his hand on her shoulder, and gave her a gentle nudge.

"(Y/n)?" He whispered, and watched her eyes flutter open, and listened to her groggy voice answer back.

"Reg?" Was all she could think to say. He smiled, affection glistening in his eyes. (Y/n) thought he was particularly handsome this morning, she always thought he'd looked his best just after he woke up. His hair was messy, strands curling over his pretty face, his voice was deeper and hoarser than it was usually, and his long, thin figure always had suited these casual clothes, that no one but (Y/n) ever really saw him in, more than the uptight, more put together things most people were used to him wearing.

(Y/n) raised her arms, writhing out from under the covers and placing them around Regulus' neck, pulling his down toward her and kissing his cheek delicately as she had done so many times before. In this kiss was hope for many more mornings of wakening beside him, hope for happiness and hope for hope's sake. She longed for his happiness as well as her own, and she wished so desperately that he might know so. Somewhere between them was a unity that they had never expected to arise, there was love and adoration and desire; all new and yet familar and well worn. 

She pressed her flushed cheek against his, and closed her eyes for a moment, listening to his breath. The moment and feelings were tender, and fell away quickly. She let a hand lay on his neck, and she pulled away slightly, letting her lips hover up and to his forehead, which she quickly pressed them against.

"Thank you Reg." Maybe this thanks was for the tea, or for something deeper, but it made no difference to Regulus, it was precious all the same.

He pulled himself away, his fingertips hesitating and then trailing from their place on her waist, his eyes doing the same. They were trained on her features, as beautiful as he found them to be, and they stayed there as her own fell away, moving to the attention of the tea she had been brought. Reg sat in a chair at the other side of the room, having collected his own cup, and reclined, warming his hands again on the porcelain.

Slowly (Y/n) lifted herself up, sitting upright and holding the quilt up against her body with one hand to cover herself, and took her tea in the other.

Here they sat, seeming to observe eachother over their tea and say nothing. The silence was comfortable and the air was thick with intention and expectation. A shared thought crossed their mind as Reg stood, dragging his feet just slightly, he took a sip of his drink, let his eyes linger in (Y/n)'s just for a second longer and then shut the door behind him as he left.

(Y/n) let her head lay back on the headboard of the bed. She sighed. Some element of disbelief in her situation swam in her head, and yet there was a satisfaction there. With every moment something in her stirred, an emotion, a feeling, maybe only a theory of an emotion. With every second that thing grew and brought her more satisfaction in her own decisions past. Alone in the room, with only her thoughts with her, but her new husband not far, she let out a rippling laugh. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, and she let a hand raise to cover her mouth as it opened and closed in awe. What she felt now seemed extraordinary, and it was warmer than she had ever belived it would be. She loved Regulus Black with every chamber of her heart, every fibre of every muscle and organ, and every splinter of every bone in her body.

She began to recover from this realisation, as she rose from the bed and dressed. Afterwards she picked up her wedding dress from the floor and held it up by the shoulders. There were red wine stains on the very edge of the sleeve, and it was creased and wrinkled. Pressing it to her face she inhaled it's smell, stale perfume and alcohol exuded nostalgia from no more than a day before and this scent would be one she would grow to love as much as the memories it held. 

She folded it, preserving it's smell and the marks her wedding day had scarred it with. She left it on the bed, and walked away, to wash her face and move on with the life she had so long now persued.

When she stood at the top of the stairs and looked down, she found Regulus sat quietly at the bottom, sorting through a box and occasionally lifting something out, holding it up to the light that streamed in from the windows surrounding the front door. He would examine it, then place it delicately on the floor beside him before burying his hands again in the carboard box at his feet.

She watched for a few moments, and then smiled and began making her way down. At the sound of footsteps Regulus twisted to see her, his eyes wide and wonderfilled. A smile graced his lips and he welcomed her with his arms open, into her first steps into their shared home.

(Y/n) sat beside him, allowing his arm to snake around her, and she looked out from the rails of the banister and into the hallway and open door to what would be the sitting room.

"I'm not sure all this feels real Reg" she said, counting the boxes stacked in the hall. "Barely an adult and now I'm married and I have a home of my own to look after."

Reg smiled and hummed in agreement. "Well, at least you're not going it alone. We're in this together now darling." (Y/n) turned to him, smiled and nodded.

"You're right. You're now by sweet, intellectual and darling husband, perfect to help me choose paint colours and do all the heavy lifting for me" she teased, feeling more homely than she thought she would have done.

Reg just rolled his eyes and looked back down into the box at their feet. He plucked something out at random. It turned out to be a small cut glass dish, about the size of a closed fist and only shallow. The box was filled with yet more things that the two families were passing down and offloading things they didn't want anymore but often felt shouldn't be thrown away, and this, Reg remembered, had once been in his aunts house, on a windowsil on her landing. He turned it in his hands for a moment, then held it out to his wife.

She took it, and held it to the light. It scattered rainbows across the room as she did so. It landed across Reg's face, lighting it up with colour that she hadn't seen in it for a long time. This morning, in this light, he looked more alive than he had been for as long as she could remember. Her heart swelled with the feeling.

She stood, stepping over a tea pot and a lamp on it's side, and went to the front door. Beside it stood a dark stained sideboard. On top of this was a telephone and a vase, still stuffed with newspaper. She placed the dish down and slid the vase to the side, arranging them nicely before taking the paper from the vase. Then she turned, and spotted Reg's jacket hung on the end of the stairs, she went to it and took the house keys from the pocket, and placed them in the dish.

"There." She smiled with a hint of pride. "The first part of the house is set up nicely." Reg gave a breathy laugh and nodded, his own smile making his eyes crinkle up at the edges and a slight dimple appear on his cheeks.

"Only a hundred thousand more boxes to unpack and we'll have a lovely little house on our hands." He opened his arms, gesturing around at the stacks that indeed surrounded them.

Over the next days and weeks slowly they unpacked and explored and decided exactly how the house would be.

On the ground floor there was the sitting room, a dining room and the kitchen, as well as a glass conservatory that lead into the garden. The garden was long and thin, consitsing of a small patio and strech of meadow grasses, before it converged into a crop of tangled trees and briars that continued back a good while.

Under the stairs was a door, that lead down into the cellar. Down there it was usually quite cold, though not damp, and it served well enough as storage, for extra things rather than wine as it was intended.

Upstairs there were a total of four bedrooms across two floors. There was the master bedroom, a bathroom and a second bedroom, then there was the attic, with had the other two smaller bedrooms and a second bathroom. The attic rooms had beautiful circular windows, one room looked out on the garden, and the other onto the street in front of the house. This room with a view of the garden was the one that (Y/n) became rather fond of, and it was allocated as her study, whilst Reg took the second bedroom on the first floor as his own space. The last bedroom was simply a spare.

The boudoir, as it was affectionately known, was quickly filled with cushions and lush fabrics. A pair of velvet curtains were draped across the window, under which was a desk, and a small chaise lounge sofa was placed at the other side of the room. Reg erected a set of bookshelves on one wall too. All in all it was warm and inviting. A space in the house all for (Y/n), though often she invited Regulus up there, where they would sit together and listen to vinyls and read. Often times Reg would lay his head in her lap and she would run her fingers through his hair. There they would remain until they fell asleep. It was reminiscent of their days at school.

In Reg's study, it was much more a library, in as much as it was lined with bookshelves and contained only a desk and single large leather armchair that sat in front of the fire place. It was darker and not nearly as welcoming as (Y/n)'s, as it was primarily used for less leisurely work. 

Their shared bedroom was much more simple, just the bed and wardrobe, a chest of drawers and the dressing table, layed out with make up and perfume and (Y/n)'s large gold mirror, most of which had once been in her room at home.

As they filled the house, finsihing it to their liking, the winter was coming to an end. In this time Reg had been working a little, putting together some experience and a portfolio of sorts so that he could get a job, hoping to become financially independent from his parents before his trust fund ran out, so that they could properly seperate from them, from the Dark Lord. By now he was fully turned against the death eaters, everytime they were summoned to a gathering, everytime he saw the Lord's slimey serpentine face and he held (Y/n) just that bit tighter and closer to him, he hated it more.

But for now, their parents were still close, not as much as they had once been though. As adults they could now avoid them more, and this new independence, although not wholly freedom, was a breath of fresh air and a step toward seperation and added to the distance they were making between themselves and the old pureblood mania.

They had rather expected some backlash from this, but the Dark Lord had instead found their step away to be exemplary- he chose to interpret it as his ideology in action- two beautiful young purebloods, building the new generation of followers.

So, as spring came forth, warming the soils and making the garden bloom, they found themselves with time, and decided to spend most of it out of the house that they had finally now finished putting together, and instead often sat in the conservatory, or in dry weather (which was rare) in the tall grass.

It was late one evening, in the low sunlight, as she sat at her desk in the boudoir, and as Reg slept on the sofa nearby her, snoring softly, that (Y/n) spotted a sparkle in the trees at the bottom of the garden. Over the winter lots of the dead branches had fallen and cleared the canopy, so you could just about see the floor of the woodland. She couldn't see what had glinted and caught her eye, but she remembered it a few days later. The weather had cleared and the sun had dried out most of the garden- Reg was inside, in the kitchen, she could see him through the window; he was pouring them both a drink, with a cigarette in his lips. He didn't often smoke, but recently something had gotten at him a little, worried him, so it had become slightly more frequently. Even more rare than that was when he smoked indoors- he didn't want the smell to linger too much, so often leant out the window, or just want outside- tonight he had decided not to, only being inside for a few minutes so it wouldn't matter.

As (Y/n) looked out toward the trees, she remembered what she'd seen, and wondered. She stood, brushing down her dress a little and slowly made her way through the grass, it getting thicker and thicker as she got closer to the trees. They hadn't explored the patch of woodland in the garden barely at all, other than to get to a small woodshed that stood near the border between it and the grass. She stepped over the brambles and one or two nettles, careful not to be stung by them, and made her way in; curious. 

About ten meters in she found a small stream. In it was a couple of small dark coloured fish, swimming against the current, so they looked suspended in the water. She crouched and trailed her fingers into the cold water, the ripples disturbing the fish, though they soon fell back into formation.

It didn't take long for Reg to follow her in, having seen her disappear away into the foliage as he came outside. He came and sat beside her, the scent of smoke having dispursed off of him in favour of the fresh air around them.

"Look at them Reg- it's like a little world right in our very own back garden." She smiled, still fixed on the two little fish.

Reg did glance at them, but he was more facinated by his wife. He adored her, the way her mind worked was amazing to him. It was in these moments that he came to the realisation that he had never told her that he loved her. Not properly, not more than when they said goodbye or goodnight to eachother- he hadn't told how he wanted to tell her. So he seized the moment.

"I love you (Y/n) Black." He said, quiet and sure.

(Y/n), froze for a second, unsure of what she had just heard. She finally turned to look at him, and this was when she knew what he had said was true. There was no nervousness or fear in his face. He just knew how he felt and had said so. Her heart fluttered.

"I love you too Regulus." She said back, feeling her cheeks flushed and her voice breathy and quiet.

"I always will" He smiled and took her hand, only now looking down properly to the fish. He watched them, and eventually (Y/n) pulled her eyes off of him and recovered from the moment. Soon the adrenaline of the moment wore off, it was almost forgotten as they walked hand in hand back to the house, though the sentiment of it was certian and hung in the air between them.

It wasn't long after this that one late spring morning (Y/n) awoke alone. Her heart had been pounding, and she could feel a cold sweat on her palms and forehead. She often woke up alone, Reg liked to get up and work sometimes but she knew something was wrong. She didn't know what, at first she wasn't sure if it was something with Regulus that was wrong or something else, but as she searched the house for him she became sure. He wasn't anywhere to be seen. The sun wasn't risen yet, it was still very early, but she became increasingly desperate, increasingly nauseous and she ran barefoot, covered only by her dressing gown, through the grass. It was still covered in morning dew and it soaked her legs as she ran to the stream. As she did she didn't bother to step over the brambles or nettles, they tore at her calves and stung her skin. As she already knew in her gut, he wasn't there. She couldn't find any trace of him and all of a sudden, as she stood bleeding and stinging in the garden, she felt tears falling down her face. As she wiped one away two more would fall in it's place, until she was just sobbing into the arm of her dressing gown.

She waited until the sun had risen, sat in the kitchen, dabbing at the scratches on her legs. There was something that told her that she should resign herself to his absence, as mysterious as it was. 

It wouldn't be until nearly twenty years later that she would ever learn where her husband had gone to that night, though she would wonder everytime she looked at her son, born barely seven months after that dreadful morning. 

She knew Regulus would be proud of her and Arcturus Black was exactly like his father.

[chubbyreaderchan]

Love Handles | Bo Sinclair x chubby!Reader | NSFW

Warnings: Mildy voyeurism, exhibitionism, roughness, quickies, etc

18+

Smut for smut sake

will probably expand later.

(Y/n) sat on Bo’s work bench. Watching him work on his car. It was her favorite thing to do in the empty town of Ambrose. Not that there was much else to do, unless she wanted to both Vincent or hang around Lester. Not that Bo would let her do anything else. He was quite possessive of his baby. He was the reason she was still around after all. She honestly never thought she would be in a situation like this. Happily drinking iced sweet tea with her very sexy but very dangerous boyfriend as he worked to fix something in his car that a tourist had destroyed. 

Wax figures.

Only thing saving her was her kindness towards Bo and--

“I see you staring at me, baby doll” He drawled, sauntering over to where she sat on the metal work bench. She wore a light sundress that Bo had swiped from a few towns over when he was looking for more tourists for Vincent. Oddly, he had quite the eye for what would hug the soft curves of his babe. 

“I can’t help it...” She admit as he wrapped his arms around her pulling her close to his sweaty and slightly sore body from the night before. He made her legs wrap around his hips, his rough fingers slid up her body pushing the skirt up with it. “You should work with your shirt off sometime.” She teased. 

“Well...” Bo leaned forward pressing a rough kiss to her lips. Bo was rough and tumble kind of guy. Rarely were there times of gentleness. Once or twice did he let her in and allow for a deeper connection. But she was patient. She could handle rough Bo until he could handle more from her. He thoughts were pulled from her brain when he spoke again. 

“Maybe you should wear less too... It is damn hot...” He began kissing down her neck sucking, leaving more marks to her flesh. Bo loved seeing her marked up head to toe. She was his. There would be no question. 

“No one wants to see that.” Bo stopped his movements and gave her a dark look. That shit pissed him off. She was sexy as hell. He wanted to see all of her all the damn time. “No one wants to see my fat out and about...” It wasn’t his true scary anger but he was still pissed. Without a word, Bo reached up and ripped the white dress in half. He looked at her bra and matching panties. He grunted enjoying the view of her curves and rolls. “Bo!” She scolded him. He grinned darkly. “I am showing you who wants to look at you.” 

His rough hands ran up her thighs and over her stomach and. stopped to cup her breasts over her bra. His thumbs brushed over her nipples slowly. “Damn it, Bo.” She hissed getting excited already. “You’re going to make me go home in a ripped dress? What if your brothers see?” He grinned, dark eyes moving from her body to her eyes. “I’ll kick their asses.” His hand picked up a pair of wire cutters and moved it between her breasts, snipping the front of the bra. It dropped away. 

“I want you on full display for me, baby girl” he gripped her sides, pushing her up to his mouth so he could suck on her nipple. He wasn’t one for soft and comforting words. His roughness was the way he could express his feelings. How he fucking loved her curves. He loved girls her side and they very rarely appreciated like he appreciates them. His warm tongue dragged along the hard nub, listening for her breathy moans. There they were, a soft and weak “Bo...” She was giving in. His cutters moved between her legs, he cut those away too before putting the tool back. He pulled the torn panties away and shoved them into a pocket on his coveralls. A good luck charm, if he would say so himself. 

“Look at you, you’re such a dirty little slut...” His knuckle gently rubbed against her burning hot slit. “So wet from a man ripping your clothes off...” His finger extended brushing the clit in a daringly slow manner. His lips landed back on her neck licking at the flesh again before sucking softly. He left a new mark as he pulled away to watch his fingers disappear between her thighs. Then he pulled his fingers out and sucked them before turning her over. He lifted the tattered dress. 

“I tell you what I like...” he rubbed his rough hands over her ass before gripped the bits of fat on her hips. “That I have something to hold while I’m fucking” Bo unzipped his coveralls and pulled his cock out, brushing it against. her. “It also makes it easier to do this...” He pulled her by her hips hard, slamming into her body moaning at her warmth. “Fuck... yo feel so good around me.” He leaned his weight over her, begging rough thrusts. 

“Your ass looks so damn amazing.”

“Oh fuck, Bo.” Despite his roughness she had a feeling that she knew what he was trying to do. Bo wasn’t emotional like that. Not always, he hid it with manly charms and dickish behavior like this. He never really learned, she supposed. His hips slammed against her again with a loud groan and a squeak of the table. Her hands held on to the metal for dear life. She was thankful it was metal and wouldn’t collapse under them, though she was sure that wouldn’t stop Bo, “Look at you, all exposed. How are ya gonna get home lookin’ like that?” Bo laughed harshly. “The whole town is gonna see how sexy your rolls and curves are.” His hand slapped down on her ass. His hands moved to squeeze at her belly and up to her breasts to tug at the nipple. This elicited a loud moan from his girlfriend’s pretty mouth. That caused  a dark smile to dance his handsome features. “Moaning like a whore. You’re going to have to prey at church tomorrow for your nasty mouth.” His hands moved back to squeeze her love handles again. Damn, he loved the way her velvety walls clenched him just right. It was as if they were made to go together. 

“Bo...” She huffed. Her body coiled and jiggled under him. So close. “I’m going to cum...” She sighed out, his speed picked up. “Cum on my cock, baby girl. Show me how pretty your body really is, baby” He groaned bumping up harder against her, the table probably giving her bruises. He didn’t care, it was one more way to show who she belonged to. He felt her clench around him and finally. “Fuck!” She yelled out, hitting her peak hard and clenching him so tightly Bo though he saw stars in the middle of the afternoon. His own release soon followed. He filled her with his essence and collapsed against her. 

“If I ever hear you shit talk my girl again, I am going to make you feel really sorry” He whispered, nipping at her ear. 

He pulled out of her, smacking her ass. “Now get in the damn truck so I can take you home.” Bo pulled out a cigarette as he watched his girl stumble into his truck. 

Damn she looked good

[writingsofmyimagination]

Instinct |6|

Levi x Reader

Summary: An unwelcome(ish) blast from the Captain’s trainee days comes back to the Scouting Regiment and old habits die hard.

Instinct: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

So I decided to carry on with the series. Bit of a time jump... now around Chapter 72 time :)

tags: @nefelimalfoy​ @beautifulimperfections13​ @pjimochi​ @submissive-bangtan​

Enjoy :)

Words:3232

Warnings: Swearing (Obvs), Smut, Smut -Pretty Sub Levi…..Like Oooof!

“Sooo, how did it go with Erwin, I assume you tried again to convince him to stay” Levi and you merged to walk the same direction in the dusty courtyard. Green cape briskly swept over your shoulder as the wind nipped at your forearms; little pin pricks of cold. The temperature measured equally in Levi’s dark face; hair half drooped over his forehead. The orange hue from all the lamps casting a shadow covering a scowl which quickly came into view.

“That good huh?” you added, trying to coax blood out of a stone.

“Those two brats just don’t stop” The stone completing dodging the question.

Oh

“Again!?” Eyes rolling.

“You should just let them go for it; they’d tire themselves out eventually”

“Ugh… if I didn’t need to make sure his energy was fully preserved for tomorrow I would” Levi unburdened you of the large unopened bottle of vodka from under your arm.

“Corporal YL/N” Erwin called as he added another walking body to the courtyard.

“I’ll catch up” You offered Levi as he’d already turned his back to you and walked off. The trio of Mikasa, Eren and Armin bundled out of the canteen hall in a cheery ball of jest.

“Hey suicidal maniac!” Jean called propping the canteen door open with his foot, hand gripped around a green survey corp jacket.

“You forgot this” Jacket launched quicker than Eren could react. You rushed over before Eren had finished screaming ‘You little…’. Your fist tight around Eren’s. You twisted his arm manipulating him to the ground before he could strike.

“Aaah” Eren wailed as he picked himself up from the dirt.

“Jean, extra clean up duty” His face shadowed with annoyance; Eren’s on the other hand brightened.

“Eren after this mission cleaning duty with Levi wherever he chooses”. It was now Eren’s turn for his face to drop and Jean’s to brighten in a balanced 360.

“Yes Corporal” They both mumbled heads down. Jean disappeared back to the canteen and Eren slumped down on the steps next to Mikasa and Armin.

“Sorry Commander” Returning to where you were called.

“It’s quite alright, ready for tomorrow?”

“As ready as you can be” Your response was still yet polite.

“Oh come on Y/N, I know your pumped, no need to be restrained for me. Anyway, I just wanted to assure you that I will be commanding tomorrows mission Despite the chattering going through the core at present”

“Sir, honestly,  I wouldn’t expect anything less, this is your dream too”

“Levi tried to convince me otherwise, to his failure of course”

“He did mention it, mostly in the form of him being quieter and slightly grumpier than normal”

A slight knowing smile crept minutely onto Erwin’s lips.

“I thought as much, anyway, enjoy your night. I assume the bottle Levi stropped off with was for you”

“Most definitely more for me. Good night commander. Rest well”.

The trio were still sat perched on the steps. Armin, the forever motivator of life beyond the walls exciting the others. The glimmer of hope sprinkled on their expressions light bright fairy dust a refreshing view. Even on Mikasa it was a sight to behold.

Entering the archway something black and still in the corner drew your attention. Head dropped down, his sullen gaze lightened, a few creases less on his face when the confusion struck yours.

“Didn’t know earwigging was your thing” You said, quieter to not alert the three kids. Levi shuffled himself off the floor and vigorously brushed himself down, slight creases grew in his forehead at checking his hands. He gave one more rushed wipe down before you both made your way to his office

“I wasn’t earwigging… I was listening to the brats be hopeful and dream about the future” There was slight distaste scattered through his words.

“Sooooo earwigging…. And is that a bad thing?” The over-dramatic roll of his eyes was heard like a sassy echo in the bare office he liked to squirrel away in.

All that was scattered on the wooden table to the back of the room was a few sheets of paper with diagrams, drawing, indecipherable scribbles that only Levi could understand.

He slumped himself down onto the armed wooden chair, scowl still present staring blankly down at the desk.

Jeez he really is in a grump.

“Okay captain scowl!” You began.

“Erwin needs this, I’m sure he is more than aware that this could potentially be his last mission. He’s not the type to sit back the same way you aren’t” Your arms now folded, strength firm in your stance.

“But his loss would be detrimental to humanity, guy is a damn genius”

“Yeessss he’s a genius, will it be a huge hit, course it will, but he wouldn’t be going if he knew that the Corps wouldn’t be in good hands if something were to happen” He shuffled the papers into a somewhat neater pile and placed them meticulously down in the centre of the table.

“I suppose your right” He conceded twiddling a pencil through his fingers.

“Aren’t I always?” Whisky frosting half of the small tumbler a golden brown which soon disappeared when the glass touched your lips.

“Now....” hanging onto the word diffusing into something much more sultry

You waltzed over to his desk, fingers already teasing undone the buttons of your blouse.

“Can you please stop thinking about work, it’s going to be a challenging day tomorrow as it is” you pleaded leaning against his desk facing him. The final button undone, sight teasing him away from his concentration. Holding the sides of the shirt like curtains to a happier Levi.

“Understatement” He mumbled, his finger finding its way through a belt loop, corner of his lips turning up to a wicked smirk, just how you like them.

“It’s also an understatement that you’re such a tease” he added, the shimmering glaze of mischief reflecting in his eyes coaxed a raised eyebrow with the victorious tinge of your lips.

“Oh Soo I am tempting you then?” his leg now in between yours, his hand resting on your sides

“Perhaps” He tugged at your bra with strong determined hands freeing your breast for his teeth to lightly toy with. Your only was response to hum in approval.

“LEEEVVIIII!” A high wailed cry barely muffled by the dark wooden door.

“Shit!” the pair of you breathed unanimously. You didn’t have any time to fix any of your clothing predicament before the door crashed open and Hanje burst in. To her you were just lent up against Levi’s desk with your arms folder; Levi remained in the chair stoic as ever.

Don’t come round!, don’t come round!

Panicked thoughts spun through your mind like a pin wheel.

“What do you want Hanje?” Annoyance slipping over Levi’s voice coating of distaste thoroughly embedded through it.

“I just wanted to let you know everything is ready for tomorrow”

That’s oddly calm considering her entrance.

Hanje looked mildy uncomfortable, her cheeks were slightly puffed, eyes were wide and flitty. Thankfully she’d not move from where she stopped on the right side of the desk.

You and Levi both waited a beat

“AREN’T YOU BOTH SOOO EXCITED!” She finally burst, her body fully exploding with movement. High pitched; almost intolerable. Levi’s eyes rolled. Obviously.

There we go.

“We’re going to THE BASEMENT!” she continued, her hyped up voice became distant as it was drowned out by the concentration of your fingers being sly in trying to do your buttons up. Levi thankfully battered no eyelids at your miniscule movements. Your shoulders dropped, reveal crisis averted.

“I’m aware” Levi droned

“Is Levi not too much of a damn stone to be spending all this time with? If I didn’t know Levi had such a small capacity for emotions, I’d say you two are a thing”

Hilarious. He may not have the massive heart…

“Can you actually imagine?” You laughed competing with her hysterics.

“Jesus Christ Ladies!” Levi complained tutting.

“I’m sorry Levi” Hanje managed still trying to control her laughter turning and leaving humming way too loudly on her exit.

“Can you not encourage that damn woman” He whined, stood out of his chair encroaching on your personal space, stealing a hard kiss from you.

“I thing you’ll find I’m helping our cover.” The two of you quickly became absorbed into each other again. As cold as he could be, his body never failed to be the warmth pressed against you that you needed.

“I think you’re a pain in my ass” he quipped back.

A pain in his ass he couldn’t let go of

“If you take me upstairs, I will be” You tested. His smirk against your lips was matched, pupils growing pools of craving.

Door clicked shut on the rest of the world, his shirt racing to the floor before you could tussle the buttons of your own shirt back open. The back of your legs hitting the rough surface of the table, the contact not disrupting the soft pressure of his lips dancing with yours; his bottom lip catching numerous times between the gentle tug of your teeth. The harsh pillows didn’t linger on your lips for long. The nips at your neck quickly ached with desperation, impatience crying through the hands fumbling at your trouser buttons. Your trousers pooled at the floor; strong grip at your waist encouraging you half onto the table. You placed a stern hand on his chest in halt.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed through staggered breathes. You answered with movement grabbing the towel from the dresser and coating the table.

“I’m not getting splinters for you. On your knees” You ordered sliding up onto the table after slipping of your underwear in a seductive swoop. Levi on his knees focused glistened eyes zoning on your every small movement. His glare ran ablaze with your foot firm on his shoulder, drinking in the view of soft pale skin. The thighs he knew looked so pretty with blossoming red flower bruises. The way he loved to make them quiver; you whimpering his name.

“Always so patient” you praised. His insides were clenched, teetering on the edge of desperation. Dying for your call. He swallowed hard, with the insatiable thirst had ravaging over him. This may have combusted when your hand dipped between your own thighs. Humanities strongest kneeling desperate on the floor beneath you trying to harness all the will to stay put.

“Tell me what you want” you offered your hand, foot sliding of his shoulder.  His mouth enveloped round the wetness of your fingers; a deep hum vibrated through his throat.

Your legs now parted with him snug in-between. He was making you wait for his answer.

“Well?” He stilled for a moment completely faking to ponder. Hands ghosting up your lower leg, your soft skin only imploring him higher. Your index finger stroking come hither under his chin

“Mmm” The pair of you mumbled, white knuckles gripped his shoulders. Even with your lips pressed together you could feel the wicked way the edges of his lips curled upwards.

“This” he managed, drowning out your whine. Already feeling the controlled digits inside pressing to your walls.

“Be more specific or you get nothing” pleasant strain and held back whines hidden terribly in your voice.

“Ugh” Levi complained.

“Did you roll your eyes at me?”

“On the chair!”. Your tone snapper quicker than a whip.

“You can’t tell me what you want, then I’m just going to keep giving until I’m finished with you”

“Hands behind your back until I say otherwise” you added, hands prying his thighs wider.

“Eyes on me baby” He tried not to blink. Forcing himself to look down, refusing his eyes to roll upward as you’d dropped to your knees. Tongue licking a slow stripe on the underside of his member. His bottom lip catching between his teeth. He could only enjoy the sweet warmth of your mouth for a few blissful moments before his bottom lip puffed out in hardcore sulk mode. You turned from him, sweeping your hair to the front of your shoulder carefully balancing your weight as you lowered yourself onto him; not how he’d like. You’d sat on his lap purposely avoiding him. Your hips circled, your head back resting the side of his neck, his low whines now right at the shell of your ear.

“Oh did you think I’d give it up that easy?”

“Don’t think so ….”

You thumb teased over the tip of his cock before honing your attention to focus on the movement of your hips”

“Please” He whined

“I’ve hardly done anything” You toyed. Knowing full well it didn’t matter; not with the fact the pair of you had had little time over the last week or so. It was all just too easy to get to him.

“Mmm…no. You can sit there and feel me.”

Frustration began seething though his controlled breaths, hips trying to match your movements under your weight. Your skin was heating up, but yet you could almost shiver with how sparked your nerve endings were. His lips stuttering soundlessly

“Something you wanna say?”

“Please just cum on me…”

//

Pale milky wax in droplets solidified on his chest. Each one earned a hiss past his lips with the occasional curse chucked into the air for measure. Moisture gathered where his hair met his skin and shone in the flickering candlelight

Small red flower patches blossomed so prettily when the wax dropped of his skin. Your lips followed the beautiful field to the buds on his chest. His desperate groan elicited at the grip of your teeth his hips couldn’t help but buck up into you.

“Levi…Fuck!” Finally allowing yourself to sink down onto him, exasperated pants omitted by both of you in solace.

“Please let me have you now, I need yooou” Your hands still at his chest, hips circling at a painful pace. Torturous eyes hand in hand with the unforgiving smirk beaming.

“But I love it when you’re so desperate, you’ll be begging me to stop when you’re too sensitive”

“How many times can you cum before you can’t take it anymore?” Levi had a damn near ridiculous refractory period, in addition to his extraordinary strength and healing speed. You loved it and saw it as a fun challenge to push it.

//

“Had enough? More?” You asked the writhing body under you, smirk still strong on your face. Moans choked in his throat. His stomach drizzled with himself, the rest of him you wiped away from around your lips. The veins in his neck jumping as he turned to you, his chest rising and falling in steadying moves. The unmistakeable moisture filled eyes, water gathering at the corners in frustrated droplets. His muscles quivering under your touch, so flooded with sensitivity.

“You” he whined, voice becoming dryer and crying with desperation with each passing breathe.

“Oh you think you can go one more with me?” You’d allowed yourself very little. Your walls were throbbing against nothing. The tension that had filled your muscles the tightly wound fibres needed an outlet.

The exhausted body beneath you moved with a sudden refilled confidence and stability knocking you back. Your hands locked behind his neck; you were half sat up and supported through his hand at your lower back. A fresh accelerated fire fight raging behind the dark orbs of his eyes, you’d pushed him, he’d had enough. Your cry had the hint of a giggle finally having him inside you, cheeky smile under your bit lip.

“Stop being a tortuous brat, ride me, make yourself cum around me or swear to god”

“Swear to god what?” you challenged clenching around him. His response; hissing with regret. Over-sensitivity pained in his features; brows knitted together as yours widened with your smile.

“Mmm” the pained hum melted right in your ear. Melted chocolate dripping of a soft pink marshmallow. Unwavering stable hand still solid supporting you. Your weight cradled into him, fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. Finally allowing your hips to spiral, unwinding all the patience you’ve exercised. Currents of heated heavy breaths washed across your chest. He ceased to challenge with any more words. Chest pushed against his; heat gathering in moist droplets between you.

You stole as many messy kisses in-between your moans and whines as you could; Levi had resorted to mostly grunts, his hips movements becoming staggered, each thrust becoming harder but seemingly more exhaustive. You shifted your weight forward. You’d felt his muscles begin to shake.  Levi was now on his back hair falling against the pillow as beautiful black spikes.

“God you feel so good” You whined rolling your hips. Hands planted cupped around his thighs, gripping hard nails leaving crescents in the muscled flesh. With your back arched, chest bare and vulnerable to the dragged out firm knead of Levi’s hands. His arms dropped to cradle your hips slowing them down.

“Too much for you baby?” You cooed sliding your hands to his chest, one creeping further to sit at his throat.

“Mmmhm…Don’t ……” He warned. You were never going heed his warning; you tightened your grip disobeying the pressure at your hips and rocking him freefalling off that cliff. His head rolled back harsh against the mattress. The intoxicating chimera of blissful pain bled into relief. Hearing the beautiful stuttering sounds and pants of Levi falling apart had you equally calling out his name with jaggged breaths.

//

You were gently coaxed out of sleep by floating plump kisses at your shoulders, a wandering breeze of his hand cloaking round your waist.

“Why does time go so fast” you mumbled, shifting onto your back. The cotton sheets were fresh against your exposed chest, cooled by the crisp air flowing in through the open window. High positive chirps from the birds living un-unbeknown to the burdens of the day ahead.

“Wait how come you’re not up and dressed and kicking me out of bed earlier than necessary?” The pleasant surprise had you smiling more sweetly than you’d like him to see and you felt more peace than you’d normally allow yourself.

The peace went to full blown serenity like a spring morning trickling stream when his lips half turned up followed by a soft chuckle oozing with acknowledgement.

“Jeez you moan when I up and leave and moan when I stay, am I ever going to get a break with you?” Levi huffed way to animatedly to suit him; he kicked off the sheets and went to lug himself out of the bed. You tugged him back towards you just off balance to get him on his back to secure your thighs at his hips.

“Do you honestly wanna break from this?”  Flicking your hair up in your grip allowing it to trickle loosely out of your hand. You fought his weight trying to push you off, which when he actually re-calibrated his balance he managed. One hand weakly holding your wrists together above your head. You were met with silence and a smirk worthy of the first ring of hell. He bounced off and slid his white shirt on. Neither of you spoke again until you dragged yourself to the bathroom.

“Annoyingly even when you act a brat I still can’t stay away. I’d would be weird without you now”

“Exactly”

Wait what?

[snowrobin-133]

Can I have a Malleus sister!reader? That likes to make fun of Sebek by doing mildy dangerous stuff, like hanging off high things, running away from him because she wants to have some fun with the other first years to do something stupid, etc. Thankyou!!! It can be headcannons or anything that you are more comfortable in making it. Thankyou!!💖💖

I'll be going with a scenario! Here is your request~

Mallory Draconia

"YOUNG MISTRESS?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THERE?!?!?" the familiar screams of Sebek could be heard all around the school. He was staring up into a tree, arms crossed.

Up in the tree standing on a branch was a young female horned fae with dark green hair and fair skin. She snickered at Sebek's yelling. "Stop worrying Sebek!! I'll be fine!" She yelled back.

"BUT WHAT IF YOU FALL?! THAT TREE IS VERY HIGH-"

"And I have magic, Sebek! No need to worry!!"

"BUT-"

She sighed and decided to ignore him as she started to explore more of the tree. Mallory was her name and the younger sister of Malleus Draconia. She wasn't as powerful as her brother but she was a force to be reckoned with.

Her eyes were caught by a familiar group of students. She smirked and snuck over to them before surprising them by standing upside down on the ceiling.

They stopped walking and the red and blue haired boys screamed. Mallory giggled in response, "Hey guys~" she spoke before returning to the ground.

"Mallory! You gotta stop that!" The red haired boy spoke as he pointed at her.

"Sure, whatever you say Ace~"

The others were Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and Epel Felmier. They were all first years similar to her. The shenanigans the group would get into would give many people heart attacks.

Sebek then came running, "Young Mistress!! You have to stop getting into dangerous situations!!" He scolded her quickly.

"Oh Sebek, just let it go! She can handle herself just fine!" Ace retorted and Sebek quickly threw him a glare.

"Shut it Human!! You wouldn't understand!"

The two then started to bicker before a fight ended up breaking out. Deuce and Jack tried to calm down the tension but instead got caught up into it as well.

Epel was about to join before noticing Rook and Vil walking nearby. He sighed before returning to Mallory's side, "I want to join…" he whined.

Mallory giggled in response, "Well, at least it's fun to watch them."

Malleus, Lillia, and Silver then walked by. They had heard the commotion and came to see.

Malleus and Lillia greeted Mallory as Silver gave a nod before going to break up the fight.

"I see young Sebek has started getting more lively~" Lillia commented, grinning as he watched the scene.

"Did he start mothering you again?" Malleus asked Mallory. 

She sighed, "Yep."

Malleus smiled before giving her an affectionate pat on the head as they watched the scene.

Thank you for the request~

[gone-cotta]

Snowflakes and Hot Chocolate Stan Uris x Reader

Warnings: cussing but not really?

Summary: its Winter break in Derry, and what better way to spend it than with the losers club? However, when a day at Bill’s house takes a turn, you can’t help but worry for your curly-haired boyfriend.

~~

"JESUS FUCK! FINALLY!" Richie hollered from outside, and Bill groaned, getting up off the couch. You looked at Beverly, rolling your eyes. A moment later, a very cold looking Richie and very smug looking Eddie entered the Denbrough household.

Richie's messy dark hair was topped by a fuzzy black beanie with a blue poof on top, and he was shivering. His glasses were fogged up, and his jacket was dusted with snow. Cheeks bright pink, he shuffled over to the couch where he collapsed, wrapping himself in a nearby blanket.

Eddie however, was the opposite. His pale gray coat had very little snow on it, and he hung it on the coat rack upon entering. Removing his hat as well, it was revealed that his hair was just as neat as ever, and the only sign that he had been outside was his flushed cheeks.

"Wha-What the heck happened with you two?" Bev asked, scooting over so Richie wasn't laying on top of her. The boy didn't answer at first, instead twisting qround so nothing but his head was exposed from the blanket wrap he had become.

"What happened is Eddie weighs a million pounds" he got out after a moment, and you turned to look at the brunette, who just smiled deviously.

"He lost a bet, and had to pull me all the way here on his sled" he explained, and you laughed, shaking your head. Richie continued to look mildy disgruntled, casting Eddie looks from where he was bundled up.

"That doesn't exactly explain why it looks like Richie was dragged through a frozen lake" Bev giggled, and Richie tried to kick her from where he lay, but she swiftly dodged him.

"Oh, fuck OFF Marsh" Richie yelled tiredly

~~

Over the course of the next 25 minutes, Ben and Mike arrived together. Mike was wrapped in a fuzzy hat, a scarf, and the fluffiest parka you had ever seen. Meanwhile, Ben wore just a simple coat, with the hood up. Taking it off, he revealed bright pink cheeks and brown hair lightly coated with snowflakes.

“It’s getting crazy out there!” Mike exclaimed, removing what had looked like 3 layers of protection from the frosty weather. You frowned slightly, standing up to take a look outside the window. The snow almost completely obstructed your view as it came down. The sled which Richie and Eddie had arrived with, and had set in Bill’s yard, was now buried in the cold powder.

“Yeah...and when did Stan say he was gonna get here?” You tore your eyes away from the weather outside to look at Bill, who was on the arm of the couch.

“I thi-think he said around th-th-three?” He said offhandedly, before catching sight of your expression. His green eyes softened. “I’m s-sure he’s fine Y-Y/n” He assured you, but you couldn’t help but worry for your curly haired boyfriend. It was a bit of a long walk from his house, and with the current weather situation, anything could happen.

“Can you turn on the TV, Bill? I just want to see how long this weather will last” You asked, taking a quick glance back at the torrent of snow falling outside. Bill reached across Beverly to grab the remote, and pressed a few buttons. The small TV on the shelf lit up, and Bill quickly navigated the channel to find the weather reports.

“-weather is expected to last through tomorrow. Estimated 2 feet of snow to fall between now and 7:00. Be sure to stay indoors while it lasts, as the heavy weather may cause power outages throughout the night-”

Bill quickly turned off the TV as he caught sight of your face. “He’s j-just late is-is all” He said quickly before you could say anything, and you let out a sigh before collapsing on the cough next to Beverly again. The redhead rubbed your shoulder comfortingly.

“Stan’s never late...” you mumbled quietly.

~~

Nearly 30 minutes later, and while the rest of the Loser’s were still chilling on the couch, you were more anxious than you could ever remember. Not a minute went by that you didn’t glance over to the window, hoping to see Stan walking up.

Eventually, your worry became evident to everyone, and was to the point where you couldn’t even participate in the activities they were playing. “Come on Y/n. Staniel will be here soon, in the meantime you should play some T or D with us” Richie had said, trying to encourage you to join the group game of truth or dare that Ben had started, but you shrugged him off, insisting you would wait for Stan’s arrival before you played any games.

And so, here you were, sitting by the front window of Bill’s house, while everyone else talked in the background. Head in your hands, you gazed at the snow outside. Watching the snow clump and fall lightly, covering everything it touched in what looked like soft white powder. As you watched the snow land on the white picket fence lining Bill’s yard, the snow covering the points of the wood, a patch of white moved.

what the hell-?

Shifting slightly, you tried to keep watch on what you thought you had seen through the thick snowfall. It bobbed up and down, moving along the fence, before a hand reached up and ran through it, revealing the damp curls underneath the snow.

Without grabbing your parka or scarf, you threw open the door wide. The cold hit you like a pound of bricks, but you moved forward into the snow. You could hear the others calling your name behind you, but you ignored them.

The snow had previously looked untouched, having long since covered the tracks made by Ben and Mike an hour ago, but now it looked like a small dog had scrambled through it. You ran into the yard, paying little mind to the moisture that seeped through your leggings up to your mid-calf. Catching Stan just as he passed through the white gate, you fiercely embraced him in a tight hug, knocking him backwards.

The fall was light, with snow and many layers of clothing to shield you from the ground. A soft crunch as your bodies pierced the snow, and you were on top of the boy.

“What the he--Y/n! What’s happening?” Stan exlaimed in shock as you wrapped you arms around him. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, you stared into his confused golden eyes. 

“Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again, you hear?” 

~~

After getting inside a few minutes later, and Stan had taken off his very wet and snowy jacket, you sat on the now empty couch. Stan had explained that his watch had broke, and he didn’t realize it was so late. Now, he sat next to you, and you were curled into his body warmth, with his arm wrapped around you. Every so often you would look up at him to press a kiss to his neck or jaw, reminding yourself that he was actually here. Whenever you did so, Stan’s grasp on you would tighten, pulling you closer.

“Who w-w-wants hot cho-chocolate?” Bill asked, once they had grown tired of truth or dare. Everyone immediately accepted the offer, including you and Stan. 

As Bill retreated into the kitchen to go make it all, Richie piped up from where he sat. “Ah ah ah! Where do you think you’re going, Denbrough?” The boy said, standing up with a grin. Bill looked at him in confusion. 

“Uh, t-to make the hot chocolate?” He said uncertainly, and Richie rolled his eyes. Stepping over to the confused brunette with long strides, he paused, hands on his hips. 

“I’m putting in my own marshmallows” Richie said after a short pause, saying it as if he were a smug kindergardener. With a scoff, Bill turned to the rest of the group. 

“Fine. Anyone e-else want to p-put in their own mar-marshmallows?” The boy said with an eyeroll, and to his evident surprise, the others said yes. 

“I’m fine, I’ll stay here” Stan said, and you looked up at him before snuggling closer. Richie fake gagged, and Eddie swiftly elbowed him in the stomach. Beverly laughed, and the group all made their way into the next room to make the hot drinks.

Once the group was gone, you looked back to Stan to see him looking at you with a peculiar look in his eyes. Confusion, mixed with admiration and sadness? You couldn’t tell exactly, which was odd because Stan usually wore his heart of his sleeve around you.

“What’s up?” You asked, backing away slightly to look at his face. He shrugged.

“I don’t really know” 

Sighing, you reached up to brush his hair back out of his face. The curls still had some snowflakes dusting them. “You can tell me, no matter what it is” You assured, and the Stan smiled, flashing a hint of white teeth.

“I know that.” He said with a small laugh that lit up your heart. However, he sighed immediately afterwards. “I-I guess I’m happy that you were worried, but also upset? I dunno...” He mumbled, and you wrapped your arms tighter around his body, looking at his face which was flushed from the cold.

“I’m not worried anymore” You murmured, your breath warming his neck. He looked at you, and thought he could feel his heart swell. Reaching to lightly cup your face, you brought your lips to his, and they met softly.

It was a short kiss, cold and passionate. Pulling away, you met his beautiful amber ones. “I’m just lucky to have you in my life” He breathed, and your face lit up with a small smile.

“Jesus Christ you two! Get a room!” Richie’s voice called from the hallway, and you both wisely chose to ignore him. Besides, he was immediately shut up by Eddie, who shoved him so hard he nearly spilled his hot chocolate.

[ren-c-leyn]

Valentines Day Ask Game

I was tagged by @writingonesdreams, Thank you =)

[1] How big a part does romance play in your novel?

 Okay, so, this depends on the WIP we’re referring to, I’ll just break this down case by case.

The Plight of a Sparrow: Not really that important? It’s a series of small subplots, really. I only have two ships planned, and one is between a pair of characters that don’t get a whole lot of time in the story.

Silver Tiger: Mildy important, I think? The arranged marriage thing is an important plot catapult. Plus, the one MC has to teach the MC how to fit back in with civilization, while simultaneously trying to help her save the world from dark forces that she’s tempted to just let win.

The Dragon’s Crown: More important than the other two, in the very least. It’s a visual novel, kind of an otome rpg hybrid in story plot. The love interest, or lack off, shows you a different side to the story and can change the series of events a bit.

Illusion’s Edge: Haven’t gotten enough of this visual novel to say for sure. There’s a lot of potential love interests, but who knows how big their roles in the story will be.

[2] What is the nature of the romance in the story? Are there any tropes it follows? (Infatuation at first sight, enemies to lovers, best friends to lovers, etc?)

Depends on the love interest and the story, and please note that I really don’t know enough about the whole world of romance stories to really say I know all of the tropes, so yeah. I can’t really say a lot about the romance without huge spoilers on The Dragon’s Crown, haven’t gotten far enough in Illusion’s Edge to tell. In The Plight of the Sparrow, there’s an enemies to lovers sort of thing for the one, don’t know what the other ship is going to do yet. Silver Tiger, they don’t really follow a trope I know of? They’re just kind of stuck together for the world’s good and don’t really know what to think of the other.

[3] Why did you decide to pair specifically these two characters? What makes their relationship compelling?

Illusion’s Edge I couldn’t narrow down the love interests so I finally said to heck with it, let’s make it where you can flirt with (almost) them all. The Dragon’s Crown it’s all backstory and situation based. The Plight of a Sparrow, I picked the enemies to lovers kinda couple because they actually work well together when they aren’t bickering over their cultural differences. He can draw the emotions she keeps hidden out and she can help cool his. The other pair, I did some testing with blurbs to see how their dynamics would work and ended up actually shipping them, so, yeah... XD Silver Tiger, it’s hard to explain why I picked them specifically. I was sitting there trying to figure out how he’d get her out of the situation she was in, and after fighting with it for a while, I decided ‘well, it’s a survival of the fittest kind of kingdom right? Why not have a right of challenge to earn your bride?’ And that’s how they got stuck together.

[4] How do you handle your characters’ chemistry?

The same way I handle normal dynamics, write and see how they work it out themselves. My characters typically dictate the stories, their relationships with other characters, how they handle the stresses and situations, I’m just as much along for the ride as any future reader of my stories will be.

[5] At which point in your story do your characters realize that they’re in love?

Who knows? ;)

Tagging (as usual, there is no pressure): @sorenfarwalker, @mischiefiswritten, @somethingreallydeepandprofound, @inexorableblob, @imaghostwriter, @jude-blakes-adventures, @adenhamcreations, @snowdropwrites, @jaisanamiller, @the-violet-writer

[fortheloveofeos]

I wanted to thank you for the match-up, ForTheLoveofEos! Aaand I had a small mischevious idea for ya >:D I noticed someone gave you a phrase with a request for Gladnis, soo I'd like to try? Could I have a little bit of either... Oh, how about IgNoct or Noct and reader? The phrase: "The more, the merrier." Sorry if you weren't doing these! But thank you if you ever do get to do it! Have an awesome day :D

You’re so very welcome :)

Your prompt sentence is not the first sentence in this storyand I hope that’s okay – and that you like the story in general! It’s not exactly what you asked for but Ignis took control before I could stop him…

Mildly NSFW under the cut. 

XXX

“Flirting” would have been putting it mildy. Of course,flirting was like any other part of your personality. However, for one reasonor another, you were on an entirely different level with one Ignis Scientia. Ithad always been that way as long as you had known the royal adviser. Havinggrown up in the Citadel with him, you had seen him through his awkward stagesand before he became the perfectly composed man you knew him to be. Your fatherhad been a member of the Crownsguard and, being a single parent, he brought youalong to work where you often found yourself in the company of a young Ignis inthe children’s wing.

It had always been a game with you, to see just how easilyyou could ruffle the feather of the adorable little boy with glasses and brightgreen eyes. As the two of you aged, the game shifted into a flirtation wherethe goal was to get him hot and bothered and to crack that perfectly serenemask of his. Prince Noctis had become a sort of stand in on many occasions,though the young prince usually ended up with a deep blush and a stammer beforehe looked for an excuse to escape your presence. Though you found yourself withhim less than Ignis, he was fun to tease from time to time.

Your group had stopped off for the night in Lestallum for anight of actual beds and some much needed relaxation after the stress of makingit through Costlemark Tower. As usual, you had kept up your game with Ignis aseveryone got settled in throwing in some light touches and a wink to thickenthings. Ignis remained his stoic self with only a slight blush to his cheeks.When everyone had parted for the evening to do whatever caught their attention,you had slipped into the bathroom for a proper shower with the hopes of arelaxing night in. Stepping from the warm flow of soothing water, you wrappedyourself in a towel after drying off and left your wet hair dripping onto yourshoulder as you went in search of a change of clothes.

“You should be careful of leaving the door unlocked when youare so exposed,” a calm voice filtered into your ears from the door of theroom.

Spinning around, you clutched your towel to your chest in anattempt to keep yourself covered while you covered your mouth with the other tostifle the panicked squeak that bubbled up. “Ignis,” you gasped as you tried toslow the beating of your heard. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought youwere going to the market for some fresh ingredients?” Fully aware of your lackof clothing, you fidgeted with the flimsy towel that was keeping you fromexposing yourself to the man you usually felt so confident around. It seemedthe tables had turned.

Still as calm as ever, Ignis leaned back against the closeddoor of the hotel suite and kept his arms crossed over his chest. He carefullypushed his glasses up with one gloved finger as he watched you intently. “Itseemed as if something here required my…attention.” He smirked as if somethingseemed very funny to him all of a sudden.

“Right, well I’m just going to…get dressed,” you mumble andattempt to slip back into the bathroom after grabbing a change of clothes but afirm hand wraps around you wrist and pulls you to a stop, spinning you aroundand pushing you up against the wall.

Hot breath fans out over your  exposed and flushed skin as Ignis pressedhimself firmly against your front earning a small gasp from you. “Why would youdo such a thing as that? Isn’t this what you’ve had in mind all along?” Hepurred into your ear before gently tugging at your ear with his teeth. “Hasthis not been your goal for some time?”

You open your mouth to speak, only to slam it closed hardenough that your teeth click together when Ignis trailed his leather bound handteasingly up your exposed thight, slowly bringing it higher and higher. “Iggy,”you gasp as a gloved finger grazes just barely over the apex of your legs.

Suddenly, the door swings open and Noctis enters. Withoutquestion, he throws a mischevious smile over his shoulder as he throws the lockof the deadbolt to ensure that no one could interrupt. “Sorry I’m late.”

Struggling against Ignis’ hold, you turn to watch as Noctis standsjust behind him, placing a kiss onto his advisor’s neck sending a shiver downhis spine. “Wh-what?” You manage to stammer out at the sight before you. To sayyou hadn’t imagined this in some of your most heated moments alone would havebeen a lie but to see it happen in front of you was something very differententirely.

“Come now, darling? Surely you did not think that I would beso selfish as to try and keep you all to myself when it is clear that you needto be taught a lesson? That you should be careful what you wish for?”

“Or that you should be careful who you wish for? Because youmight just get them both – at the same time.” Noctis chuckled darkly andswatted Ignis’ hand away from you so that he could pull the towel from yougrasp. A soft moan left him in approval as he took in the sight of your nakedbody for the first time.

Swallowing to try and clear the lump forming in your throat,you did your best to channel your usual confidence in front of the two devastatinglygood looking men. “You’re being serious.” Though it was not a question, theyboth nodded in answer to your question.

“The more the merrier,” Ignis smiled and removed his glasses– something he only did when he meant business and the sight sent heat straightto your core. “I believe the two of us should be able to…sate your apparent appetite.”

Noctis pulled his dark shirt over his head and tossed itinto a pile with your towel. “Oh, I think we can do better than that, Iggy.” Heshot you a wink before pulling his friend in for a kiss that was so unexpectedand yet so hot you found yourself unable to keep from squeezing your legstogether in hopes of finding some sort of release on your own. “We’re just gettingstarted,” he breathed as he pulled back long enough to shoot you a wink.

[craftrising-blog]

Sierra Nevada Beer Camp Across the World 2017

The popular Chino, California brewery, Sierra Nevada, has been releasing collaboration 12-packs the last few years called Beer Camp. They get together with other popular and upcoming breweries and collaborate on unique, one-time beer releases. This year they put a little spin on it, doing six collaborations with Stateside breweries and six collaborations with breweries from around the world. In the past, I have been underwhelmed with the Beer Camp releases, they weren’t bad by any means but they didn’t really stick out as anything really special, however this year they have finally really decided to work toward the strengths of the breweries they are collaborating with and the results are distinct and impressive. This post will review all 12 worldwide collaborations, giving you, the reader, a sneak peek into the box before you buy.

First up, a collaboration with Tree House Brewing Company, East Meets West IPA. This beer is meant to be a representation of Sierra Nevada’s iconic West Coast-style IPA alongside Tree House’s New England-style IPA, known for its low bitterness, juicy flavor profile and hazy appearance. One of the first things I noticed about this one is the insane amount of carbonation and effervescence. You can definitely pick up the distinct West Coast-style bitterness and piney resinous but it is accompanied by notes of fresh clementine (both the fruit and the peel), mellow pineapple, bright lemon and light caramel maltiness. There's none of the telltale haze from the typical NEIPA and the body is lighter but it still has that soft characteristic and the juicy pop. It is definitely more West Coast than New England but this is the closest thing Arizona is going to see to having Tree House Brewing in distribution anytime soon so we'll have to accept it.

Next up, their Beer Camp collaboration with The Bruery from Placentia, California. This one is brewed with lactose, raspberry, cocoa and vanilla and is fittingly named Raspberry Sundae.  As expected, it is definitely sweet, but not overbearing, which I was worried about. There's a big hit of raspberry jam up front with a very mellow thread of vanilla running throughout followed by a lingering punch of milk chocolate. It has a nice, creamy mouthfeel and actually finishes pretty clean. I assumed it would be a sugar bomb with a lingering sweetness but they proved me wrong. This beer is a perfect example of them brewing to the strength of their collaborating partners as The Bruery is known for fruited sours and adjunct heavy beers. I could drink more of this one.

I decided to follow up the sweetness of Raspberry Sundae with their Ginger Lager, brewed in association with Minnesota's Surly Brewing. This one sounds particularly interesting as I am a fan of ginger but there is a fine line between delicious and way too much. They brewed this lager with ginger and cayenne and fermented it on oak, which I'm hoping will provide a really unique flavor profile. Bold, spicy ginger presents up front with a healthy kick of cayenne spice on the back end. The two distinct spicy flavors really work well together providing a spark on the palate and a slow burn in the gut. This collaboration finishes incredibly dry, which is a delectable follow up to the mouthwatering ginger up front. Light, crisp, flavorful, effervescent and dry. So far they're three for three this year in my book.

After a couple of funky twists and adjunct focused beers I decided to go for a more classic brew. Working with Boneyard Beer, Sierra Nevada brewed up this classic West Coast-style DIPA. A classic example of a crisp, clean, golden double IPA, there are notes of fresh pine and juicy grapefruit mingling with herbal hop flavors and a robust, mildly boozy backbone. The flavors are bright and fresh and the finish is dry with a nice, lingering bitterness. Not a lot to say here, this brew is just a really well-done example of a West Coast-style double from two breweries that have a lot of experience with the style.

I just realized that I have yet to crack into any of the overseas collabs so I figured I could start with a simple, classic brew, Dunkel Weisse from Ayinger, a classic brewery that has been cranking out delicious German beers for over 130 years. This one is pretty straight forward, dunkel weisse means dark wheat, so you pretty much know what to expect. It's a Bavarian-style dark wheat beer was created using traditional open fermentation to assist in highlighting Ayinger's famous Hefeweizen yeast. Banana and wheat malt characteristics dominate this brew with bread crust flavors and a low sweetness and long, dry finish. An absolutely perfect example of a traditional German-style beer, this is full flavored and refreshing. Killed it.

Garage Project is a small brewery from New Zealand that opened with a 50 liter brewkit back in 2011 (that's the equivalent of roughly 13 gallons). Their business model is to create unique and experimental beers. For this year's Beer Camp project they joined with Sierra Nevada to brew Campout Porter, brewed with malt smoked on Manuka wood (a tree native to New Zealand) and Mankua honey as well as beechwood honey from California and Tahitian vanilla beans. Creamy and dark, this beer is exactly as advertised, maybe even better than I expected. Roasted malt, mellow smoke, creamy, light honey sweetness with just the slightest hint of vanilla in the background. It's like a smokey, toasty marshmallow drizzled in honey. The best “smore” beer I've ever had and maybe my favorite from the 12-pack thus far.

Denmark's premier gypsy brewer, Mikkeller, is known for his eclectic style and crazy ass recipes. Thai-style Iced Tea is a drink popular in Southeast Asia typically made from strongly brewed Ceylon tea, condensed milk, sugar, orange blossom water, star anise, crushed tamarind seed and other spices. To try to recreate the classic flavor of this drink Mikkeller and Sierra Nevada brewed a spiced amber ale with black tea, sweet orange peel, tamarind and star anise with lactose added in place of the condensed milk. The bottle pours with a golden amber hue and a nice level of carbonation that maintains a consistent half inch of white, foamy head. The anise really comes through strong backed up by strong, dark tea and sweet citrus with a medium body and a crisp bite. I haven't ever had Thai Iced Tea but I'd imagine this is pretty close. It's very refreshing and would make a delicious summer beer. This isn't my favorite of the box so far but I'm really enjoying it, I think the only thing I'd change is to lessen the amount of star anise.

Duvel Moortgat Brewery is a Flemish family-controlled brewery founded in 1871 that currently produces approximately 1,200,000 barrels of beer per year. They're a large European brand that owns a few smaller brands including Ommegang, De Koninck, d'Achouffe, Boulevard and Firestone Walker. For this collaboration, they brewed a Hoppy Belgian-style Golden Ale, which is a variation of the style they are already known for but hopped up and brewed with lemon peel. This brew is full of sweet, estery yeast flavors, a slight booze kick, bitter lemon and sweet citrus finishing with a sharp, dry bitterness. A tasty classic with a welcome twist.

Next up is Kiuchi Brewery from Japan. This collaboration is a White IPA with Yuzu. Yuzu is an Asian citrus fruit and the beer was also brewed with nutmeg and coriander. Up front is a ton of bright lemon and tangerine peel followed by spicy coriander and a dry, piney hop profile. There's a thread of sweetness on the back end but the beer finishes fairly dry. Another light, crisp summer style beer in the 12-pack and another delicious addition to the Beer Camp series.

I'm coming up on the home stretch here with Sierra Nevada's Beer Camp Across the World 2017 limited edition 12-pack. My next brew is a collaboration with Saint Arnold Brewing from Texas, known for crafting everything from traditional German-style recipes, like this one, to big experiemental styles. For this collabrew they decided to put together a Dry-Hopped Berliner-style Weisse. There is a citrusy, fruity hop profile that is backed by a crisp, mellow tartness with a lemony wheat base. Pretty classic berliner with a mildy hoppy, fruit forward hop twist, very clean and refreshing.

Avery Brewing, from Boulder, Colorado, is partially known for their barrel program and their big beers, like Mephistopheles Stout, Tweak and The Beast. When collaborating with Sierra Nevada they decided to head down this road by brewing this Dry-Hopped Barleywine-style Ale. Despite the name, which comes from the fact that the alcohol level is usually high, like wine, barleywine is definitely beer. They are typically 8-16% ABV and, depending on the style, American or English, can vary in hoppiness and bitterness. English barleywines are more malt forward and less bitter, with little to no hop flavor, closer to Old Ales than anything else. American barleywines, just like any other Americanized styles of beer, are super hopped up and really taste much more related to double IPAs, just with a much more powerful malt bill. Both of these breweries make a popular American-style barleywine already so it is no surprise they decided to go that direction. Sierra Nevada releases their yearly Bigfoot Barleywine and Avery has their Hog Heaven, which was recently rebranded as an Imperial Red IPA, as “IPA” will always outsell “barleywine”.

This one follows much of the barleywine blueprint to a t. Incredibly rich and malt forward with bittersweet caramel and toffee malt characteristics accompanied by a piney, floral hop twist. Typically an American-style barleywine is going to have a very piney, resinous hop profile, which is present here, but it is joined by a somewhat light, floral, lingering hoppiness sprinkled over the top. This was probably the one I looked forward to the least, as I'm not particularly a barleywine fan, but it is surprisingly tasty though it may be my least favorite of the set.

Well, this has been a fun journey across the US and the world with Sierra Nevada Brewing and its time to wrap up this entry with the final review of my favorite beer from this box, Fuller's Brewery Atlantic-style Vintage Ale, an English-style old ale brewed with plums. It isn't the most unique or the most standout beer in the box, but it is an outstandingly brewed, solid, classic brew and it really hits what this collaboration was all about. Fuller's is known for their series Vintage Ale, which has been released with a new recipe every year since 1997. The releases that I have had are always very malt forward, rich, deeply complex beers and they are intended for aging, which usually means sparing use of hops, which fall off of the flavor profile very quickly. This is another robust entry in the series, heavy caramel malts and dark fruit (plums and raisins) back up a yeast-driven aroma and flavor. There is a deep, fruity richness that just coats the throat and creates a heavy, hot, deep feeling upon the swallow. This beer is straightforward and simple but with a subtle complexity and richness that allows you to savor each sip.

The Sierra Nevada Beer Camp Across the World 2017 12-pack is a resounding success in my book. The beers range from classic standby ales to experimental “everything but the kitchen sink” style modern brews and there is a little something here for every fan of craft beer. I think this is far and away the best Beer Camp pack that has ever been released and, if they are still available in your area, I'd recommend checking it out. Not one of the twelve beers was an all out disappointment and, coming in at about $2 per bottle/can, it's actually one of the better deals you can find in craft beer currently. Try them for yourselves and decide, maybe I'm insane. See you next time, same craft time, same craft channel.