#Shape Up Slim Tea

[teaazatea]

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[demonsword586]

Gehenna pp headcanons! (Just nobles)

(A little warning. This gets explicit. I was trying to make it goofy but I think I might have gone a bit....off. Still I hope you enjoy it. Mind you,I never saw a pp before,only an imaginary one of my friend and they still didn't let me poke it.)

Sitri

- Okay let's start off with the size...just from what I seen of him,I think he's on the bigger side. Definetlly bigger than Satan and his king is still pissed about that from time to time.

- 20-21 cm I think

-Now he is a gentleman. He was raised in hell called Hades. Which means he was probably taught of proper higene. In other words,this man's lower region is as smooth as a baby.

-Smells like tea. He drank so much tea,his piss now smells good and his cum tastes like black tea.

-Now for the shape and color. I think his tip is on a brighter side of pink. It's suprisingly slim and elegant compared to someone like Satan who's penis looks like a meat claymore.

-Anyway good penis on a good man. Refreshing as well if you need a man with flavoured cum.

Zagan

- Hmm....Now for Zagan,I think he's a grower.

-His bulge is pretty small but if we think on how much he exercises,there's no way he isn't training his penis as well.

-Okay hear me out. He has a little workout routine for his pp. He flexes up his muscles and makes it go up and down,probably does a helicopter to warm it up.

-And it actually works! His pp has grown in lenght and girth from his training and now he can make it hard on command.

-He does smell a bit funny though. He works out and while yes,you can hide the scent of sweat on most of your body,this is one part where he can'r mask the scent because it is simply too strong.

-My point? His pp smells...of manliness!

-He tries to take care of his pubes but would prefer to keep a small white bush above the shaft. You can't get him to shave it off tho. The bush stays.

-Also I think most of his cock is the color of his skin except his tip which is just one shade lighter.

-His seed tastes like protein tho.

Paimon

- Tucks it. I can't explain why but he tucks it. This bulge? Those are his balls.

-The actual size of it is around 13 cm. A little small for a devil but still packs a punch.

-He wears very cute underwear. He knows no one will see it but it just feels nice to know he has something cute on. Wears comfier undies when he's home and done for the day.

-Likes to put glitter on it. He just thought it would be a funny little thing if he putted some of that super fine and sticky glitter on the shaft....and now he puts on a little fasion show for the other nobles every once in awhile.

-It's actually good tho. He uses those little brushes and stencils. He once even did it for Leraye who then ran around pantless to show everyone how talented Paimon is at dick decoration.

-Sometimes when he thinks he doesn't smell good,he might put some parfume on it. Don't be suprised when his pp smells like flowers or vanilla.

-Very well groomed. No hair on the balls or around the penis. The only thing that he does have...is a little heart shaped bush slightly above his pp.

-The penis itself is on a little more girthy side and when hard it leans slightly to the right. Pretty pale with a pale pink tip.

Leraye

- flat

- Anyway Leraye I think is also a grower. It may not look impressive flaccid wirh only 12 cm but when it gets HARD..oh boy. It goes from a puppy to a wolf. This thing is easily 21 cm once you wake it up.

- The shape is on a leaner side. Being slender but also long. He does hower go thicker around the base. But only at the base,like a slight knot.

- He once walked in on Zagan when he was warming up his pp with the helicopter move and then very euthusiasticlly asked Zagan to teach him.

-Next time you two were about to have a passionate night he wanted to show you a trick. Wipes it out and then swings his pp around like a disco ball while saying 'Look what I can do!😃' It ended up being a little joke between the two of you.

-Suprisingly doesn't have a headless teddy anywhere near his cock. If you ask him,maybe just our of curiousity,why he doesn't have a teddy there like on his horn he will look at you with dread. That would be just rude of him to dirty the dead body of a plushie by impaling it on his pp. He can't bring himself to go as low as Glasyal.

- He does have a bit of pubic hair. A small, dishaved,blond bush . Very pretty and suits him. Please let him keep it.

-His cock is as milky as him. A very pretty color with a flush tip.

Belial

- Normal. Questionably normal lenght. It's not too big and not too small. Just...normal. maybe falls a cm or two from perfect.

-It's also on a little skinnier side. Nice and thin.

-Still size isn't everything. It's important how he uses it....and unfortunatelly for you,he's good!

-He manages to fill in for the lack of impressivness with his experience.

-He is quite strong so with him you're able to try some more adventurous positions like the bicycle or the ballet dancer.

-Gets easily moist. His precum is very watery so his tip looks like it's always glistening.

-Very well groomed. Almost no hair down there except for a thin strip. Also the carpet maches the drapes,his pubes have red ends.

- He also has 2 frenum piercings. Astaroth recommended him to get them,saying " You will corrupt many mortals with these. "

-The dick itself is pretty pale with a darker shade of pink at the tip.

Astaroth

- OH HOLY MARY

- *cough* Sorry *cough* thighs...

-Anyway! Let's go from the size down....BIG. The snake on his bory isn't the only snake he has.

- 26 cm

- You know how snakes hide their pps in what looks like a slit? Yea Astaroth can do that.

-Normally he keeps it inside of himself,but when he gets shy or horny,it pops out and his pants suddenly look a little heavier. There was a time when Sitri didn't know about his anathomy and just saw him suddenly get a bulge. He asked him if he just shat himself.

- Once out and hard,his cock naturally curves upwards. It's just slightly thicker than a normal one but with how long it is,that may be for the best.

- He has a dydoe piercing on the head of it. He considered going for more but decided not to after how intense it felt. He does always wonder how it would feel like if his piercings got stuck inside of you. How romantic~ Two lovers tied together as one for eternity~ (Thankfully it never happens. He is nice enough to take them off if you don't like the feel of them)

- He likes to keep himself well groomed. I mean very well groomed. He waxes off everything and then puts extra virgin olive oil on top. He also puts some on his shaft from time to time to make it a bit more smooth and squishy.

[when-i-wake-if]

It has been 18 years since humanity was brought to the truth that monsters, creatures and deities they were all too sure were myths are in fact real well most of them anyway with these new realizations comes new mysteries, problems and hope but dawn (MC 1) never paid too much attention to it but after the death of their father they have been sent reeling the perfect life they had crumbling slowly forcing them into positions they never would have dreamed of. their life colliding and slowly meshing into the unknown creature's deeper darker world. Across the city in a dingy alley badly hurt dusk (MC 2) awakes to no memories other than their name and something they were told that stung like a dagger in their heart for some reason. As Dusk tries to make sense of what is happening they somehow fall into a rabbit hole of crime, mysteries and dark truths all because they are trying to find out who they are and how they ended up in that alley

~Customize your MCs looks, gender identity, clothing style and name

~ Choose your legal job! (Dawn starts the game with a certain job but that job doesn't stay long)

~ Make deals that will change the course of your life

~Customize your room and apartment aesthetic style

~As Dawn manage the relationship with your mother, your ex your, past relationship and current feelings about your dead dad. As Dusk unravels your past try to figure out what happened to you or set It all aside and attempt to make a new life for yourself

~Romance 4 different characters for both MCs and hey if you want to romance a god as one or both MCs!

Dawns ROs

Xeno || Xe/Xem || 21 || Human

"Hellooo how is my favourite co-worker! I brought you your favourite drink, I'm amazing! I know~"

Description ~ Short coily dark brown hair, lean build with a Bronze complexion, dark green eyes, Nubian nose, Xyr height is 5’11, Xe has a full tattoo sleeve on Xes right arm and a tattoo on the side of Xyr neck when outside of work Xeno tends to wear ripped black jeans, no sleeve neck length shirt, runners and a bunch of rings, necklaces and one stud earring.

Selena || She/Her || ?? || Ghost

"Please! Don't be scared i mean you no harm le-let me explain"

Description ~ Shoulder-length ginger hair that is curled at the tips, She has a chubby build and pale skin, greyish blue eyes, a button nose, height if she could stand on the floor would be 5’3, freckles kiss her face and shoulders, she forever dressed in a light blue tea length swing dress and stockings with a pair of black flats, adorned in pearl earrings and necklace, to most she appears slightly translucent

Brier || He/Him or She/Her || Gender selectable|| 228 || Vampire

"Oh, sweetheart are you okay? please don't cry how about a rose? will that give you back your pretty little smile"

Description ~ Chin length afro-textured dark brown hair, Slim build and ebony complexion, Dark red eyes, button nose, height 5’7, outside of work they typically wear wide cuff pants, cropped blouse with a sweetheart collar, 4-inch heels or black dress shoes, round glasses, realistic heart shaped earrings, ruby necklace, silver rings

Míng || They/He || 30 || Dragon

"Well maybe if you watched or read the news more you would know how shitty it is, for people who aren't human like you."

Description ~ bleached white shoulder-length hair, lean build light brown complexion, black sclera and piercing yellow iris, flat nose height being 5'7, scales litter their body colours mainly being yellow and orange with some red ones sprinkled in, typically wears graphic tees , with a worn-out black bomber jacket, cargo pants and platform boots

Both MCs

Is || she/her, he/him or they/them || Gender selectable || ??? || Minor God of death {and dreams}

"Is it truly a lie or is it just not the truth you want to hear. darling, you have so much to learn"

Description~ Long straight black hair that reaches past their ass typically in some kind of intricate hairstyle with silver jewellery woven in, curvy build with a tanned complexion, pale white eyes, roman nose, height 8,5 when not forced to dress modestly they are always wearing a short dress with a marabou robe or a satin robe and six-inch heels, adorned in many silver bracelets, necklaces, rings and flower earrings and they have belly button piercing

Dusks ROs

Sire || He/Him || 26 || Kelpie

"you should watch where you going around here kid someone will end up killing you if you are not careful"

Description ~ Shoulder length wavy dark green hair so dark it almost appears black Sire's hair always seems to look wet/damp, he has a dad bod and Ivory complexion, black eyes, Greek nose, His height is on the slightly shorter side standing at 5’4, usually wearing black leather pants, dress shoes and a button up shirt that never fully buttoned up

Loralie || They/Them || 24 || Siren

"you are so adorable I could eat you up~ how about I buy you a drink gorgeous"

Description ~ Mid back length black goddess braids, Athletic Swimmer build and Dark brown complexion with dark blueish grey scales scattered about, piercing grey eyes, Flat nose, height 6’2, a large scar down the middle of their chest, gills most noticeable upon their neck, outside of work they typically wear cargo pants, muscle shirt, converse shoes, a gold locket, dangle earrings, spectrum piercing

Joshua || He/They || 20 || Werewolf

"Plan?? I never said I had a plan did I? ...oh well I didn't but don't worry I can get us out of this"

Description ~ Short messy dirty blonde hair, muscular build and tan complexion, amber eyes, Greek nose though it has obviously been broken in the past, scar along the right of their jaw, freckles speckled over his face, height 6’0, typically wears work boots, jeans and a muscle shirt with a flannel jacket

Z || She/He/They || ?? || Undead

"pay me back? how about you let me eat you and I'll take that as your repayment I'm quite hungry and you're starting to irritate me"

Description ~ Messy straight chin length black hair with strands of grey hairs throughout, skinny build and pale olive and appears slightly greeny yellowish, black eyes, hawk nose, the height of 5'6 the left corner of her mouth is carved away revealing most of their teeth and flesh and their left hands pinky and ring finger are just bone the surrounding area seems to have a hideous burn scar though he typically covers it up by wearing white gloves, black turtle neck, beige torn pants and two different pairs of dirty runners

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

How do you climb up from rock bottom what are you willing to do. to sacrifice. to find out the truth what will you do when you get those truths what if they aren't what you expected or wanted will you help others or push the world aside? how far is too far to achieve your goals

Demo: TBA || My other IF || Charater Portaits: coming soon

[ineylesian]

Hey!! If it’s not a bother, could I request sleeping hcs with the TSF boys (+ könig and graves??) You can do fluff or NSFW (or both.) If you do thank you so much and have a wonderful day!!

SLEEPING HCS

— TSF, KÖNIG & GRAVES X GN! READER

MASTERLIST | AO3

— FT. / simon “ghost” riley, kyle “gaz” garrick, john “soap” mactavish, john price, könig, & graves.

— WARNINGS / partial nsfw, mentions of insomnia, mentions of nightmares & terrors, mentions of separation anxiety.

— AUTHOR’S NOTE / found this in my requests and thought i’d do it to try and clear my writer’s block. even though i’m technically not accepting requests, i’ll most likely do small things like hcs!

CERTAIN PARTS OF THIS WORK ARE MEANT TO BE WRITTEN IN AN ADULT READER’S POINT OF VIEW. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

— SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

SFW

⤫ in all honesty, simon doesn’t sleep much, especially after or during deployments. he has a particular habit of pacing around during the night, and will often sit by you on his side, but he won’t sleep. part of this stems from deep rooted anxieties concerning war; he’s seen what happens to people who let their guard down, and he’s not willing to even think about taking such a risk.

⤫ if you’re also the type of insomniac he finds himself to be, your nights will often be spent staring out of your nearest window or balcony, indulging in mindless chatter until it’s time to hit the road again. in these moments, you’ll find simon more vulnerable than usual, and he’ll take it upon himself to talk about things he wouldn’t dare speak of other times. there’s always an underlying look of distance in his eyes when he speaks of his past, and you know as much as him that he wishes it was different.

⤫ when he does sleep, it starts off distant. he’ll quietly shuffle himself onto his side of the bed, give you more than enough room, and bid a whisper of a good night call before he’s silent. if you choose to face him, you’ll see that he often sleeps straight on his back, half-lidded gaze dragging shapes into the ceiling, and, when he does finally succumb, that’s when he tends to get handsy. part of you assumes it’s because of his dreams, and he’s subconsciously latching out, but you don’t stop him.

⤫ you tend to find yourself being greeted by an ever so slightly contorted face of shock and rapid shuffles every morning. simon knows his sleeping habits, he ends up clinging to you every time he falls asleep, yet he can’t help but utter an apology every morning and scramble to get off you. it takes time to get him to let go of this habit, and eventually he does, waking up only a little less shocked and reluctant to pull away.

⤫ is amazing at making tea for any occasion. if you’re restless, don’t fret, simon has something that’ll put you to sleep halfway through the mug.

⤫ following that, if you don’t like tea, simon is always willing to talk you to sleep. he’s nothing if not a great listener, so he’ll have you ramble until your words are drifting off to meaningless drawls.

⤫ contrary to what others may believe, i don’t think simon would sleep with the mask on. he would only be open to sleeping in the first place if he knew he it was impossible to be compromised, and he knows you, so he’s okay with it. however, when he first started sleeping with you, he did wear it, and it took nearly a year for him to take it off.

NSFW

⤫ simon doesn’t see sleeping sleeping as a terribly different thing than the regular, but the question of whether he’d succumb to such a thing depends on his mood.

⤫ on deployments, chances of sleeping with simon are slim, as the threat of being somewhere he doesn’t know makes him cautious. adding onto that, if you did end up sleeping together, you wouldn’t hear much, as his mind is typically elsewhere.

⤫ cautiousness is a major turn off for him. the chance of you being compromised in such a vulnerable act is something he just won’t risk, so you’d only get to be with him in secure areas.

⤫ his energy fluctuates depending on the type of missions you’d led that day. if something went wrong, (especially concerning you) expect simon to be on the more brash side. scolding flows in and out of as many rounds as you can manage, and when you tap out, he’ll be soon to follow.

⤫ the softer side of simon only really comes out in the safety of your home. not having one himself, being welcomed in the comfort of your place is akin to a haven for him. he’ll treat you as if you were the finest piece of glass he’d ever seen, and would stay in bed with you no matter how restless he feels.

— KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

SFW

⤫ i’m just gonna say, either a totally chaotic sleeper, or so quiet you can’t even tell there’s someone next to you.

⤫ gaz usually tends to lean on the more hectic type of sleeping on deployments, as the adrenaline doesn’t quite leave until he’s completely knocked out. this could be really bad, or really good, depending on if you like to be smothered when you sleep.

⤫ no matter what position you’re in, your limbs are bound to get tangled with gaz’s. on particularly “bad” mornings, you’ll have to wait until he wakes up to escape.

⤫ however, gaz does have a calm side when it comes to sleeping. he’ll knock out with a hand wrapped around your waist, subconsciously pulling you up against his side.

⤫ gaz is a snorer. a quiet one at that, but if you lean in close enough, you can hear it. if you tell him, he’ll insist that he doesn’t and you’re just teasing him.

⤫ i cant stress this enough, but night chats with gaz are a regular. he could talk for hours on end, and it only gets worse when he’s tired. if you’re chatty as well, expect a multi topic conversation with your lover before bed.

NSFW

⤫ accidentally (?) loud. every place you touch seems to be a sensitive spot for gaz, and knowing that, it’s rather simple to get him going. keeping him quiet is always fun, especially when you’re in close proximity to others.

⤫ always has enough energy to please you before bed. though, he does prefer taking it easy so you can both relax properly.

⤫ aftercare is a little tough with gaz, as once he’s tapped out, he’s nearly spent. despite this, he has an iron grip and will refuse to let go despite how sweaty you both are.

⤫ pretty big pillow talker. gaz loves to ramble about the things he wants to experience with you one day, and the intimacy of laying beside you makes him feel like a love struck boy.

— JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

SFW

⤫ hugger, plain and simple. soap’s grasp is so tight that you can’t even begin to pry yourself from his grasp.

⤫ soap is big on swooning over you when he’s tired, no matter how disheveled you may look. he typically puts you to sleep by mumbling sweet nothings in your ear while drawing soft kisses over your hair.

⤫ can also be a chaotic sleeper like gaz, however, he’s usually more on the calm side. he has trouble sleeping if your skin isn’t touching, though.

⤫ would never admit it, but soap loves to be the big spoon. something about feeling you flush against him develops a sense of security in his mind, and makes sleeping much easier.

⤫ sleeps with an eye mask on, and is not ashamed of it one bit. his favorite is the one with cat eyes and ears that you bought him for his birthday.

NSFW

⤫ unlike some of his comrades, soap is down to sleep with you almost anywhere. he’s willingly to play a game of risk if it means he can satisfy you.

⤫ missions tend to get him riled up, and with that, he’s more aggressive in bed. if you can handle it, he’ll take you for a few rounds in a row before abruptly tapping out.

⤫ is super into cockwarming you during the night, especially if you’re too tired to do anything else. the feeling of being inside you puts soap to sleep faster than anything else.

— JOHN PRICE

SFW

⤫ heavy, heavy sleeper. once he’s out, he’s not waking up until the morning.

⤫ prefers to have a cigar before getting into bed. will gladly share a light with you if you’re interested.

⤫ only sleeps on his back, but loves to hold a grip on you. his favorite way to sleep is with your arms wrapped around his neck.

⤫ if you have a hard time falling asleep, price has a few tactics in the back of his head to help. depending on the night, he usually ends up raking a hand through your hair, or softly droning on about something you certainly don’t care about. tea also works if you’re particularly restless.

⤫ on deployments, price doesn’t tend to sleep nearly as much as usual. on some nights, all you can do is stay up and talk until you fall asleep. during the later hours is usually when price lets his words slip, and in those moments do you truly hear how much he values you and the task force.

⤫ doesn’t sleep until the later hours of the night due to his duties as the task force’s captain. however, when he can, price will sit beside you in bed while you drift off, and humor any of your requests until you’re asleep.

NSFW

⤫ despite the pent up stress that follows him through the day, price isn’t a big fan of drawn out sex at night. adrenaline will only allow him to manage a quickie before he’s knocked out.

⤫ however, price is super into giving you oral before bed if you’re willing. and, knowing him, he’ll have you shaking out an orgasm (and exhausted) before the five minute mark.

⤫ off deployment, price is one of the best service partners you could ask for. if you’re restless before bed, he’ll make sure to take his time and deliver whatever pleasures you desire.

⤫ on the other side, if he’s in some type of mood, price will have you singing until your vocal chords run dry. when this happens, you’re both passed out just barely after your last round.

— KÖNIG

SFW

⤫ absolutely massive. in most cases, way larger than you and will absolutely smother you (accidentally.) if you happen to be around the same size as him, expect to be wrestling over blankets every night.

⤫ on the topic of blankets, könig simply takes up so much of the bed that he ended up getting his own blanket. it’s weighted, too, and he is very possessive over it.

⤫ huge fan of soft touches. könig typically isn’t in the mood to talk much when he’s tired, and would rather fall asleep holding your hand.

⤫ always bids you a quiet “schlaf gut” with a kiss on the cheek before bed. it’s one of his odd necessities, but sweet nonetheless.

⤫ pretty clumsy sleeper. könig tries his best to be cautious, especially if you’re a margin smaller than him, but it’s pretty much impossible to keep him from flopping around once he’s asleep. you’ve just learned to deal with sleeping below a giant mass.

⤫ has a similar case as ghost when it comes to wearing his mask to sleep. will only take it off if he’s sure the both of you are safe.

NSFW

⤫ like soap, könig is a huge fan of you cockwarming him to sleep. the feeling puts him at ease, and usually has him asleep pretty fast.

⤫ if he’s more needy, könig will silently plead for you to give him some sort of relief. his favorite way to relax is with your hand wrapped around his cock, and silencing his whimpers with your lips.

⤫ most of your more heated make out sessions are in bed, when you’re too tired to do anything else. könig will be on your lips for hours, and he really gets going when you trail kisses down his jawline.

— GRAVES

SFW

⤫ stomach. sleeper. always has one of his hands on his stomach, and the other is usually wrapped around your back.

⤫ if you’re not allergic to animals, expect to share a bed with one. graves has a small tuxedo cat at home that adores him to no end, and will always manage to shove in between you.

⤫ (reluctantly) graves allows you to pamper him before bed. he’ll be too tired to even complain about the extensive routine you put him through sometimes, and will fall asleep with cucumbers over his eyelids.

⤫ in the summer, graves sleeps like a 50 year old dad. won’t sleep without the window open or ac on, and snores at a moderate volume. however, he’s completely silent in the winter.

⤫ instead of one or two pillows, graves has a singular massive one that he sleeps with. you argue that he should buy something softer, but he wouldn’t trade that pillow for anything.

⤫ if it’s possible, graves needs to sleep with white noise. whether it’s the soft buzz of a random channel on TV, or rain patterning on the window sill, any noise will help him sleep.

— NSFW

⤫ graves sleeps with you, a lot. having sex in the later hours is just his thing.

⤫ if you have the night off, graves will make sure he takes his time with you. he’ll go numerous rounds over a couple hours, and it’ll end with the both of you completely knocked out before it’s really that late.

⤫ on deployments, graves has the drive of a rabbit. he’ll take you almost anywhere, as long as it’s sheltered and safe.

⤫ relating to the last points, if the two of you were on a particularly dangerous mission and couldn’t sleep together, he will be all over you the moment you arrive home. most times, he’ll take you right on the couch in your living room, and you won’t even make it to bed.

[mrsnancywheeler]

Time for smutty angst! (I have so much anxiety I’m so sorry if I’m bothering you)

‼️CW FOR LIKE HEAVEY DEGRADING AND JUST LIKE HUNGER GAMES ESC STUFF???

Don’t imagine the way Finnicks heart breaks as he’s forced to degrade, to hit, to choke, to pull his sweet girl while all the elite are watching. Don’t imagine all the things he’s forced to say…

“Fucking slut, you like being watched huh? Say hi to all the nice men…”

“Such a crybaby. Cryin’ cause it feels too good, yeah? Being fucked to tears”

“I’ll just leave you here, let these nice men take you. Bet you’d enjoy that, dirty bitch”

“needy whore, can’t get enough cock?”

A part of him breaks at every word. After each session he holds her, whispering praises, trying to undo all his words.

“I love you, Angle. You’re so beautiful…”

“Come here, it’s okay to cry…I’m here…shhh….”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Tomorrow we can stay in bed all day, how does that sound? My sweet girl…”

Yet as much as he tries the words leave imprints on his soul. He can’t decide which is worse though, his hateful words or the way he’s forced to hit, punch, choke, abuse her. Anytime he looks over and sees a bruise, a scratch, a bite, a slash, anything done without the care she deserved he feels like he’s dying inside.

He remembers when he was forced to choke her, the next day he saw bruises on her neck in the shape of his hand. That damn near broke him.

-🌾anon

you're not bothering me at all, i literally get so excited when I see you in my ask box. I love answering all of these and talking about all the nuances of their relationship and the story

but I feel like finnick would spend every moment being so soft and delicate to make up for all of it, like saying she's his pretty girl and doing everything for her, he feels like he needs to endlessly make up for it because of all the terrible things they make him say

"being so loud, what a pathetic whore"

"crying like that just makes me want see more tears"

"don't try and hide you moans, everybody already knows your a needy slut, don't play innocent now"

how's he supposed to say that and know you're gonna lay on the bed wordlessly for at least an hour, staring at the ceiling, after it's all done? how could anyone expect him to say things like that to the sweet girl he moved heaven and hell for so she could stay alive?

when he's being told to choke harder and there's the outprints of his fingerprints on your neck or when he obeyed you and hit harder, leaving nasty bruises on your face, how was he supposed to live with himself? he wondered what the people in the district thought with no idea of what the Capitol was really like and no makeup artists to keep the bruises covered, they probably thought he was the devil incarnate. he probably deserved that, it's how he felt when he had to lay his hands on you like that.

even if you tell him constantly that it's not his fault, that you don't blame him it still makes him hate himself for going along with it. he wants death to embrace him when you lay there after and be softly tries to coax you enough so you'll let him clean you up. because you could spend hours staring at the wall and then there's only a slim amount of time before the mask is back on again. before his sweet girl is once again pretending everything is just fine, trying to protect him.

"it's okay, sweet girl, everyone's gone now. just you and me."

"I didn't mean any of it, you're so perfect, angel, I'm so sorry."

"I love you so much, angel, do you want to take a bath?"

"I can make you tea, sweet girl, and rest your favorite book to you, but you gotta get up. let me take care of you."

his words are so soft and whispered as he gently plays with your hair as if it will make up for all the harsh pulls. it's never less then half an hour, usually an hour, sometimes more of soft coaxing while your fade back into the real world. then he can take care of you

never for long though until you're starting to gain consciousness once again, the mask of bravery sliding back into place

"Finn, don't feel guilty, I know it's not your fault. Could never blame you."

"it'll go away, not as bad as last time."

"do you wanna go sailing when we get back home, take your mind off things?"

and your voice is quaint enough that he knows it's because you feel like it's a necessity to take care of him over yourself, who's still not ready. he knows you'd much rather recover by spending a day with him holding you in bed, but you'll refuse to let him unless you break. unless he softly reminds you that you're allowed too, makes you confront your unsteadiness until you're bawling. and he just wants to protect you because he feels like he's failed at it again and again.

but yeah I'm literally crying rn, this hurts

and disclaimer, I'm not in any way trying to romanticize this issue, I'm exploring the trauma of two fictional characters, my interpretation of finnick based off my series and his sweet girl, who's a character I created. It's fiction, it honestly helps me world build to think of all the small pieces not explicitly mentioned. if it's not for you, just scroll, I don't need to know about it, thank you.

[cheesybebengka]

overly sweet tea 🫖

Pairings: Caitlyn Kiramman x Fem Artist!Reader

Warnings: none just pure fluff and awkwardness. (Also english is not my first language so sorry for the errors)

Author’s notes: Inspired by that trend where couples draw or paint each other’s portraits except you two are friends. A LOT of staring cause you two are both cowards to do or say anything more than that.

The aroma of grounded coffee beans and freshly baked pastries wafted around the bustling cafe of Piltover. It was the perfect place for you to unwind for awhile, relax into your seat and enjoy the delicious pastries while you finished your little project. The sounds of people conversing and giggling with one another slowly faded into the background as you found yourself engrossed into the image you were trying to draw before your focus was abruptly pulled away from your sketchbook as a familiar thickly accented voice rang in your ears.

That recognizable pretty accented voice could only belong to Caitlyn Kiramman. An enforcer you’ve frequently met and conversed with during you strolls around Piltover. You’ve grown quite close to her despite the differences in your paths, finding common interests and a growing interest towards each other.

Except neither of you knew that the feelings were mutual, convincing yourselves the budding relation with one another is purely platonic.

“If you don’t mind, may I join you?” Caitlyn asked once more, noticing how your focus was still a little bit on your sketchbook.

“Yeah, yes of course” You replied, quickly snapping out of your daze to focus on Caitlyn now. Looking up to see her in her enforcer attire, prim, proper and as always she looked stunning.

She then took the seat infront of you, getting a much closer look of what you were working on “That looks quite hard” she said as she observed the drawing on your sketchbook. Her gaze lingering on the intricate details, the smooth and sharp lines and the blurred shading.

“It’s only hard if you don’t simplify it into basic shapes. Draw what you see not what you think” You playfully retorted.

“Do you think we can draw each other’s portraits then?” She suddenly asked, challenging you and herself. It was a spontaneous idea and compulsive request, a challenge she’ll gladly do if it means she can shamelessly stare at you with no qualms.

“I believe so.” You replied a little too quickly, without much thought or hesitation you accepted her challenge with the same eagerness. An opportunity to stare at her shamelessly to your hearts content too.

So began the challenge of drawing portaits while you silently basked in each other’s company. A few lingering gazes here and there, the occasional sounds of pencils swipping and sliding against the papers and waiters passing by to serve you two.

As you got more and more engrossed into drawing the portrait, your reference started to fade into your mind. Slowly the image of Caitlyn blurred, unable to get a clear look of her features so you peeled your gaze away from your sketchbook to get another good look of your reference. But your instead met with Caitlyn’s eyes staring right back at you, a gaze that could only describe admiration. It’s as if her eyes were tracing every single dip and curve of your features, memorizing the beauty marks that littered your skin and just about inspecting your beautifully sculpted face.

You were staring right back at her too, admiring the curve of her jaw, the tall, slim bridge of her nose and just how sharp and chiseled her features were. Of course this was all in pretense of trying to observe and understand your reference—or so what you tried to convince yourself with.

The silence was stretching, tense yet it wasn’t awkward. Just two girls staring at each other—Admiring the features that uniquely made up each other’s faces for a long while until Caitlyn decided to break the ice, her voice cutting through the silence.

“I’m sorry for staring, it’s just that your easy on the eyes.” She said with an amused chuckle, her words spilled out faster than her mind had processed it.

“easy on the eyes to draw” she sheepishly added, swiftly and smoothly hiding the hidden implications of her compliment—but it was too late for that now.

You immediately knew and understood what she fully meant with her words. You practically choked on your own saliva as you gulped down the wrong pipe. Coughing as your throat was irritated with the unsual sensation. Both of you were in disbelief on what she said, flustered even.

Caitlyn watched in horror as her words took effect on you, coughing and struggling to compose yourself before she quickly suggested “Here, drink this” offering the tea she ordered to soothe your irritated throat.

Yet again, you were staring at her then at the teacup. Your mouth seemed more dry and irritated than it was before as you stared at the teacup Caitlyn offered, it was a simple cup of earl grey tea but one that touched Caitlyn’s lips.

“I can order some water for you if you’d prefer that. I understand that tea doesn’t suit everyone tastes, it’s known to taste quite bitter or plain to some—“ Caitlyn quickly suggested, rambling off as she sensed your hesitance before she finally just stood up from her seat to make her way towards the counter.

It was a simple remedy for both your throat and mouth but it seemed like a hard pill to swallow. You weren’t disgusted nor against the tea she offered it’s just that the circumstances the teacup was in made your cheeks burn softly. It flustered you to drink out of the same teacup Caitlyn drank from—to touch the same rim Caitlyn’s plump, soft and inviting lips touched.

“Nononono—this is fine, thank you” You quickly interjected with a sheepish smile formed on your lips, hastily picking the tea cup from the table. Staring it for a moment, the steam hovering against your face before you finally took a sip from it.

The tea tasted bitter with the various herbs and notes infused to it but it’s unpleasant taste was immediately replaced with sweetness, giddiness as you were pressing your lips against the surface that once made contact with her lips. Receiving an indirect kiss from Caitlyn.

Immediately Caitlyn sat back on her seat, her gaze flickering between the teacup held by your hands—and how your lips wrapped around the rim as you drank from it.

Clearly, you weren’t the only one affected by this cup of tea….

“It’s sweet.” You were lying obviously but you were feeling too giddy to taste the bitterness of the tea

Caitlyn was about to playfully retort to your blatant lie but the familiar voice of her coworker calling her out in the distance cut her off.Unfortunately duty calls for Caitlyn, and your time with her is abruptly cut short by her duties as an enforcer.

Caitlyn let out a soft exasperated huff as she stood up to leave and go back to her shift, frustrated that her break time ended a little too soon and she’ll have to leave you now.

“I’ll see you around?” She asked as she gazed at you one last time, her eyes flickered around your features as if memorize all of it to remember for later.

“In a while.“ You smiled. It was a definite answer, one that your confident of. You were going to see each other later, after all you two always found each other.

She then smiled back at you as she waved you farewell before she left to go back to her shift, patrolling the streets of Piltover.

You were left with her unfinished cup of tea, a sweet memory to go along with it and an unfinished protrait of you. One that you would hold onto until you two finally meet each other once more.

[elyssialumengard]

Alastor x Reader : Fragile Link ( Part 4 )

Link to the second chapter for those who haven't read it : https://www.tumblr.com/elyssialumengard/741972142524088320/alastor-x-reader-fragile-link-part-2?source=share

Link to the third chapter for those who haven't read it : https://www.tumblr.com/elyssialumengard/742072151760355328/alastor-x-reader-fragile-link-part-3?source=share

Summary : In this chapter, Alastor remembers times spent with (y/n), the day before the confrontation against the Exterminating Angels.

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

Tomorrow was shaping up to be the big day.

A month had passed since Charlie and his clique had begun training the cannibalistic sinners rallied to their cause, motivated by various aspirations, but above all by the desire to taste the flesh of the exterminating angels. Even Cherry Bomb had joined their camp, unable to resist the call of battle alongside her friend Angel Dust. They did everything they could to maximize their chances, however slim they might be.

On the eve of the battle, after Charlie's speech, everyone was aware that this evening could well be their last and acted accordingly. Gathered at Husker's bar, they chatted happily, served by the demon himself. Sir Pentious raised his glass and said, "Here's to being alive today and not dying tomorrow !" Glasses clinked in agreement, followed by a lively discussion.

Upstairs, Alastor was watching the scene, leaning against the railing with Niffty. The Radio Demon shared his thoughts with the little demoness, who in turn expressed her attachment to this place where the residents seemed to accept her eccentricities without judgment. In response, he confided that he was beginning to enjoy the company of this unique collective.

They then burst out laughing after Niffty solemnly gave him the title "King Roach", placing on his head a wooden diadem decorated with dead beetles placed on a leaf. After this moment of frank hilarity, he rested against the railing, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips.

As he observed the merry band below, a smirk stretched his features. If he had been in the presence of (y/n) at that moment, she would surely have commented in a haughty and icy tone on his unworthy attitude of an Overlord. She would certainly have told him to straighten up and maintain his composure in all circumstances. But for now, he let himself relax, savoring the warm atmosphere.

Resting his head in his hand, he closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander to the one occupying his thoughts. (y/n), with her noble aura and unwavering strength, was always present in his mind, even in the most critical moments. Although he knew he might consider sacrificing her to achieve his goals, if it were necessary, he couldn't help but feel a form of concern towards her.

Alastor then returned to their last meeting, a month ago after seven years of separation. He distinctly remembered the way she wore the pearls he had given her, clinging to her antlers, despite everything that had happened between them. This detail evoked a memory in him that brought a sweet smile from his face. A memory dating back at least thirty years, perhaps more, but engraved in his memory, like all the moments spent in his company.

He saw himself entering without announcing himself, as usual, into the house where she before resided in the same dimension as them. She had accepted his presence, although it caused displeasure among those she considered family. He had gone to a room serving as a tea room, where (y/n) was sitting at the table enjoying a cup of tea. Behind her, a demoness was busy filing her antlers, trying to shorten them or even make them disappear. Despite Alastor's presence, the atmosphere remained tinged with tranquility, although his arrival broke this usual tranquility, Taku not being there to block his way, thus letting his absence shine through.

She looked up from her cup, unsurprised by his presence which she had detected as soon as he entered her domain. But she had not seen fit to act, knowing in advance that any attempt would be in vain in the face of the stubbornness of the man who allowed himself far too many liberties for her liking.

"Alastor," she said in a voice mixing exasperation and feigned amusement, "what a surprise to see you today. What brings you ?"

He had offered her a smirk, the mischievous glint in his eyes testifying to the pleasure he took in disturbing the Overlord. Standing there in front of her, his hands carefully hidden behind his back.

“Oh, just a sudden urge to visit you, my dear (y/n),” he replied in a cheerful tone, aware of the trouble he was sowing around him.

“I see,” she sighed lightly, then turning towards the demoness who continued to file her antlers. "You can leave us, we'll finish later. Thanks, Lily."

The demoness had nodded and left the room, casting wary glances at the unwelcome person, leaving Alastor and (y/n) alone in the relative tranquility of the tea room. He then let out a light, teasing laugh.

“Aren’t you afraid of being alone with me ?” He said with a mocking smile.

She arched an eyebrow, her expression hardening slightly.

“Why should I fear that ?” She asked in a calm, but firm tone.

Alastor gave him a smirk. "Well, who knows what might happen when we're left to our own devices, right ?"

She rolled her eyes slightly before responding : "If you're implying that you scare me, you're sorely mistaken. If I wanted to, I could easily tear you to pieces."

He had laughed softly, recognizing (y/n)'s confidence.

“You would be a tough opponent, I grant you that,” he admitted, feeling a slight shiver run down his spine at the idea of facing (y/n) in a real fight. He knew too well the formidable abilities of the Overlord, much older and experienced than him, present long before the arrival of Princess Charlie.

"Alastor. I only have a little time for you," she said dryly.

He nodded slightly, recognizing the seriousness of her request, and joked, "Of course. Is it because you need to file your antlers ?"

An exasperated sigh had passed (y/n)'s lips before she retorted, a slight annoyance piercing her voice : "I don't have the luxury of having yours, Alastor. I have to do it daily, otherwise they become too long and it becomes problematic.”

He shook his head in feigned desolation.

“What a shame,” he murmured, his eyes glinting with amusement.

She arched an eyebrow, intrigued by Alastor's comment. "What do you mean by that ?" She asked in a curious tone.

He gave her a playful look, admitting : "It's a shame, because I think your antlers are graceful and elegant."

A slight sound of disbelief escaped (y/n)'s lips, thinking for a moment before responding with a skeptical tone : "I'm not sure I share your opinion. They're more restrictive than anything else. I don't see any reason for their presence."

He smiled teasingly. “Oh, but I could find you a valid reason, you know.”

Curious, (y/n) tilted her head slightly, putting down her cup and asking, "Oh ? And which one would it be ?"

He had approached, revealing what he had been holding in his hands all along : A box. He had placed it delicately on the table in front of her, then stood back slightly, a mischievous smile on his lips, observing with amusement her reaction, no doubt wondering if she thought it was a trap.

“Intrigued ?” He murmured, brushing his fingertips against the top of the back of the chair occupied by (y/n).

She had stared at the box warily, but with a hint of curiosity evident in her eyes. Carefully, she opened it, expecting everything except what she discovered: Magnificent pearls, small and discreet, resting inside.

A gasp of surprise escaped (y/n), eyes glinting as she examined them in wonder.

He looked at her with a mischievous smile. “Well, what do you think ?” He asked, a look of anticipation in his eyes.

She looked up at him before looking back down at the jewelry in the box. "It's... Beautiful," she admitted, her fingers brushing the delicate pearls. “But I don’t see where you’re going with this.”

He burst out laughing, a warm, amused sound that echoed through the room. "Turns out the other day, I walked past a little shop and saw these pearls. Immediately I thought of you and how well they would look on you," he explained, taking gently held the pearls between her fingers, showing how they were held together by two almost invisible threads.

Alastor continued to observe them with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, then his eyes landed on (y/n)'s woods. "Can I ?" He asked, pointing at his antlers.

She hesitated for a moment, but ended up acquiescing with a slight nod. “Be careful,” she warned him in a serious tone. “I wouldn’t put up with any missteps.”

A strangely sweet smile had stretched Alastor's lips. “Count on me not even thinking about it,” he replied, before leaning down to delicately touch (y/n)’s antlers with almost excessive caution. During this time, he hummed a song, adding a calming ambiance to the room.

Once he had finished, he stood up and turned towards her with a tender look, an expression he only showed to her when they were alone. "So ?" He asked, waiting with some excitement for her reaction.

She had observed him with her usual calm, seeming to take a moment to think. “I don’t know,” she finally replied in a measured tone, “I don’t have a mirror to see the result.”

He had nodded, understanding her reluctance. “No worries, my dear,” he replied with a soft laugh. "I'm sure the pearls look great on you. You wear them with grace, believe me."

Seeing that she wasn't completely convinced, he looked around the room and saw a mirror in a remote corner. His shadow had detached itself from him to eagerly grab the object before bringing it back to Alastor.

"Here's a mirror so you can see for yourself," he said, handing her the object with an encouraging smile. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the result.”

She took the mirror carefully, focusing on the reflected image of his decorated horns. He had observed her attentively, impatiently awaiting his verdict which was slow in coming.

"Well ?" He finally asked, impatient.

She placed the mirror on the table next to her cup, sighing slightly. "It's not bad," she admitted matter-of-factly, but he could see a slight glimmer of approval in her usually impassive eyes.

An amused smile stretched the lips of the Radio Demon as he contemplated (y/n)'s stubbornness in maintaining his impassivity. He let his hand rest on the top of the back of his chair, while with the other, he gently grabbed (y/n)'s fingers, bringing them close to his face without kissing them.

“I understand what you mean,” he murmured with a smirk. “Is that reason enough for you to stop filing your antlers ?”

She hesitated for a moment before answering : "I'll think about it."

He sighed with amusement, knowing that meant tacit agreement. "Lovely," he said, placing a light kiss on her knuckles.

Coming back to the present, he opened his eyes and realized that Niffty was long gone, probably to get rid of the cockroaches that were still hanging around. He took one last look at the bustling group downstairs and noticed Charlie looking at him quizzically. A smile played on Alastor's lips as he gave her a slight wave before walking away.

Walking down the hall towards his room, he wondered why that evening his thoughts were constantly on the one who had surprisingly found a place in his cold heart.

He remembered the occasions when they had crossed paths during the meetings held by Carmine, discussing the political affairs and intrigues that shook Hell. He remembered the times they had exchanged advice and strategies, recognizing her as a valuable ally despite their differences.

Of those moments when their words cut through the air like sharp blades, challenging each other's authority with equal audacity. To those where the silence of their meeting gazes revealed, if only for a moment, the complexity of their bonds. He remembered every detail with almost obsessive precision.

He also remembered the rare occasions when they had shared more intimate moments, away from prying eyes. Moments where he had discovered a side of (y/n) that he would never have suspected, a softer and more vulnerable side that contrasted with her image as a ruthless Overlord.

Like that evening when he invited her for a walk in one of the public gardens of the pentagram, where the secret of the sleeping roses seemed to whisper in their ears, their conversations tinged with teasing and intellectual challenges.

Or that time when he invited her to attend a performance in an old theater, where they enjoyed the shows while exchanging sharp glances to the rhythm of the actors. She had relaxed to the point of letting out small laughs at the comical scenes, Alastor savoring this rarity on the part of his companion with tenderness.

And then there had been Alastor's many impromptu visits to have dinner with her, which had eventually become a pleasant routine. They shared exquisite dishes and discussions imbued with a dignity appropriate to their status, before competing in mind games where their natural competitiveness was displayed in verbal jousts or complex table games. In these moments, he always admired the courage and presence of the oldest.

These enchanting memories brought him back to reality with a sweet nostalgia as he continued to walk down the hallway, his mind still filled with images of the one who had captured his interest and adoration in a unique way.

Arriving in his room, he closed the door behind him and noticed half of his meal left on the table in the forest linked to the room, the flies already flying ferociously around it. He told himself he should get rid of it, but not right away. Removing the piece of wood that Niffty had placed on him earlier, he placed it on the small coffee table located between two armchairs, facing a fireplace.

With a snap of his fingers, the fire was lit. Sitting comfortably in one of the armchairs, he placed his cane on the armrest. His shadow appeared again, busy preparing him a whiskey while the radio played soft music, evoking a melody clearly older than its time. The shadow brought him his glass and Alastor took it, swirling the liquid gently before bringing it to his lips, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

As he listened to the music, his thoughts drifted again to a distant moment, a moment shared with the one who could no longer see him in painting.

This memory was about one day, in (y/n)'s private garden, where they had taken a walk, alone, after she had insisted that no one come and disturb them. They had serious topics to discuss. At first, their conversation had focused on managing territories and the new demons that seemed to be growing more and more powerful, a concern that weighed on (y/n)'s shoulders as the protector of those who depended on her for their safety against the horrors and perfidies of other sinners.

However, Alastor, tired of these serious discussions, had decided to change the subject. He had made a seemingly innocuous remark to (y/n), telling her that he had never had the opportunity to see her dance.

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this abrupt change in conversation. " Why is it important ? » She asked in a calm voice, but full of curiosity.

He shrugged his shoulders, a teasing smile stretching his lips. "Oh, just out of curiosity. I thought maybe you didn't know how to dance."

" I can dance. But dances from my time, not really those from today. More like waltzes. Unfortunately, I don’t know anyone around me who can dance the waltz as well as I used to do,” she replied.

He had a curious look as he asked, “And don’t you miss not being able to share these dances with someone?”

“I guess sometimes that lack shows up. But overall, I'm used to living with it. After all, there are many other things in life that deserve my attention."

He seemed to be thinking as she prepared to resume their serious conversation. But he had cut her off before she even started, announcing that he could fix it. Intrigued, she turned around and saw Alastor leaning forward, offering his hand with a charming smile.

She raised an eyebrow, asking, "What are you doing, Alastor ?"

Alastor, still smiling, replied : “I invite you to dance, my dear (y/n), that seems obvious to me."

She narrowed her eyes, slightly skeptical, retorting : “To dance ? Do you even know how to dance the waltz ?"

He replied with a slight laugh : “Oh, the waltz ? It's not that hard. And who knows, maybe I'll give you the opportunity to be better than me in something. Isn't that tempting ?"

She had thought about his proposition, weighing the pros and cons, before asking in a serious tone : “Hmm... I'm not sure. Are you sure of yourself ? The waltz requires close physical contact throughout the performance."

Alastor, with his usual confidence, replied more gently : "It touches me that you take this into consideration, but don't worry about it. After all, it's me who wants to initiate contact."

However, despite the confidence displayed by Alastor, a glimmer of hesitation persisted in the eyes of the powerful overlord. She had pointed out that they could not dance without music: “I can understand that. However, without music this is not possible. We only looked like two young people in the prime of life, innocent and naive, but that is not our case. What if we are seen ?"

Alastor, still wearing his charming smile, sat up slightly and said in a soft voice : “Don't worry about that. I have an idea."

He began to hum softly, a melodious tune that seemed to hang in the air like a promise of something magical to come, while she asked him skeptically, "And what exactly are you planning to do ?"

In a fluid gesture, he snapped his fingers, causing shadows to appear, each holding a different musical instrument. Violins, violas, cellos, and even a piano. Their notes had blended harmoniously to create a captivating melody, specific to the waltz.

As the soft sounds filled the air, Alastor, still smiling, moved a little closer to (y/n), holding out his hand again with a delicate gesture, whispering : "In these places, he no one there to see us. I have erected a barrier around us, which only we can undo. You can relax, (y/n)."

"...I don't know if that's a good idea, Alastor," she began, but he cut her off before she could finish her sentence, giving him a flirtatious look. Not malicious or with an ounce of dishonesty to better manipulate as he was used to doing, but a rarely sincere, authentic look, which slightly broke the demon's defenses, something he noticed.

“Come on, (y/n), you're not going to find another reason to refuse, are you ?"

She stared at him for a moment, feeling the weight of her own resolve weaken under Alastor's insistent gaze. Breathing deeply, searching within herself for the strength to overcome her apprehensions and let herself be carried away, she finally nodded, placing her hand in his with a slight tension in her gestures, but also, a glint of excitement in her eyes, ready to let yourself be drawn into the dance, if only for a moment.

Alastor, still smiling, said in a teasing voice : “Don't worry, my dear, I'm ready to take on the challenge. But I warn you, I will not spare you."

“You don’t have to hold back. I won’t either,” she retorted.

A light laugh escaped Alastor's lips as he replied, "Great, that's what I like to hear. After all, I'm a good dancer at soul, and I intend to prove it to you."

They began to dance, slowly at first, their movements synchronized to the rhythm of the haunting music that filled the air. At first, (y/n) seemed a little tense, her steps slightly stiff, but over time she relaxed, letting herself be carried away by the music with grace and beauty.

He couldn't help but be captivated by the overlord's transformation into an elegant and graceful dancer. Her natural charisma seemed to radiate as she grew in confidence, and he found himself completely charmed by her regal appearance.

Little by little, their dance turned into a sort of silent confrontation, an unspoken challenge to determine who would take the reins of the dance over the other. Their movements became more fluid and more complex with each passing moment. Their steps blended harmoniously with each other, their gazes never breaking away for a single moment as they let themselves be carried away by the music and the momentum of their dance.

As they continued, an unexpected warmth came over Alastor as he saw the bright smile light up (y/n)'s usually impassive face. His heart, which he thought had been extinguished for a long time, had skipped a beat, overwhelmed by a wave of emotions that he struggled to understand. It was the first time he had seen her like this, so alive, so radiant, and he felt strangely overwhelmed by this revelation. An intense heat erupted in his chest, a new and unfamiliar sensation that left him almost stunned.

He found himself selfishly wishing that time would stop, that this moment would never end, that they could continue to dance in this bubble of intimacy and connection. He wanted to capture this image of (y/n) smiling in his mind for eternity, a memory he knew he would cherish long after the music died down.

Then, like a rude awakening, the song shifted to the present, and he came to, his gaze falling on the glass of whiskey in his hands. The sweet melody of the waltz faded away, replaced by another in his room.

These memories swirled in Alastor's mind, reminding him with a hint of pain that those moments with (y/n) were gone since what he had done to her, breaking their already fragile bonds. However, he promised himself that if he survived the next day, and he was convinced that he would, he would do everything in his power to reconnect with (y/n), no matter how complicated the situation. He was determined to rebuild that bond, to try to regain her trust, even though it seemed like an almost impossible task.

Because after all, even demons needed moments of gentleness and light in the darkness of Hell. And if anyone could give him that, it was the one who captured his heart, even if he would never admit it out loud.

And he had all eternity ahead of him to do it.

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I hope this chapter has immersed you in the intimacy and complexity of the relationship between Alastor and (y/n). Thank you for reading and I hope to see you soon for chapter 5. ^^

[ravencincaide]

When the dead talk

Summary:  Sometimes you wonder whether Dazai seeks you out because of your ability or if there is an obsessive element to your encounters. Either way as long as he keeps his part of the deal, you’ll make the dead talk for him. OR the real reason Dazai is always dirt poor. 

Pairing: Necromancer!reader x  Dazai

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 19: Teeth Brushing 

Warnings: This is a somewhat morbid and contains: Necromancy, toxic-unhealthy relationship, hint at suicide (lets face it, it’s BSD and Dazai!), hint at Odasaku, cursing,  

Polish polish polish bones, grimy bones, dirty bones 

Polish polish human bones, my fair lady

You ran the slim blush over each and every tooth; first the top ones. You paid  extra attention to the canines. Then down the jawline and up to the second row of teeth. There you scrubbed a little harder to brush away the dirt that got in between the crevasse. You changed brushes several times; first the normal toothbrush, then onto a different thin one and then into an even thinner one. Each one able to get more easily into the crooks and gaps. 

Once satisfied you went back to brushing the jawline, focused on removing any of the dirt gathered there before you  flipped the skull over. You did a similar meticulous job of cleaning the underside. Being thorough to remove soil and all the other nastiness from the precious bone. Under your breath, you were humming the tune of “London bridge is falling down”, though you replaced the words of the familiar nursery rhyme with more bone related appealing lyrics. That was until you heard the metal door far above open, while its hinges squealed loudly in protest. The sound made you lose yourself in the made-up lyrics; a groan of annoyance making it past your lips. 

“ Was that really necessary?” you whined as the worn out dress shoes made an irregular tip-tapping sound against the concrete floors. 

“ Still working donna?” was the reply you got instead. The voice was neither warm nor icy, something lukewarm. It grew closer, the steps tipp tapping away until they came up right behind you. A bony bandage-clad hand placed a paper bag with a take away container and some other items beside you. The hand lingered there for a moment longer, waiting until you fully acknowledged the generous gift he brought you. When you didn’t, the hand snapped upwards, grabbed your face and twisted it to the side. 

Face to face with the young devil. 

 “ I told you to be done by the time I arrived.” Dazai’s expression was displeased, raw chewed lips turned downwards into a frown. The hand on your chin tightened; no doubt tomorrow you would wake up with finger-shaped bruises on your skin. 

“ You pay peanuts, you get monkeys” you replied back, meeting his hollow gaze with your unafraid one. Still your hands slowly lowered the skull you worked on onto the table, the gentle clang of bone against metal seemed to snap him back into reality. He gave you another warning look before he shoved your face away from himself.  

You danced away; twirled to the opposite side of the otherwise tiny room and the metal sink placed there. Hands reached for the soap, scrubbed at the dirt and pieces of flesh before running your digits under ice cold water. You were not about to dig into much needed dinner with dirty hands- even you had standards.You held them there until you lost feeling; skin red- almost blue from the cold. Then you turned the water off with your elbow, while you wiped your hands onto a nearby paper towel, Then back you went towards Dazai and the paper bag he had gotten for you. 

“ Awwe Rice on Tea again?” your smile dropped as you opened the half-cold container. “ C’mon really? Even prisoners get more variety than this!” 

Dazai chuckled at your reply, a humorless sound at your choice of words, while his eyes watched your every move with hawk like dedication. Dazai tried to look unbothered, tried to hide the itch in his hand and the frustration which brewed in the pit of his stomach.  “This is plenty in return for your services” he replied stiffly. 

You dug your chopsticks in, twirling the half soggy rice around the plastic bowl. Then brought a grain to your lips. Although tasty the food left you to craving a new blend; “ I bet Port Mafia’d give more” 

“ You’re not cut out for Port Mafia” Dazai growled, his one uncovered eye narrowed. Just daring you to continue this conversation. You knew he wouldn’t kill you- but that did not mean starvation and torture was off the table. “ You're still too weak; its safer here” 

I don’t share.

That was what he was actually saying. The underlying threat right there; care twisted into sadism with you balanced on a thin beam between. One wrong step and begging for mercy would be the least of your worries. Setting the food back down, your eyes shifted onto the rest of the bones beside the human skull you had spent the last few hours cleaning. Your fingers reached out towards the femur and you picked it up with interest “ Can I keep these?” 

“ No.” he answered in a heartbeat. “ Not these ones” 

You frowned and turned to face him. A pout on your lips “ Oh come on, pretty please. I already do so much for you and you get me so little in return” you moved closer, practically in his face.

“ I SAID no!” You tightened your grip on the bone, the brittle thing beginning to crack in your grasp. The sound made Dazai snapp, his hand moved faster than your mind could register. But you knew what he’d do; whenever he got emotional he was so much easier for you to read. 

“ Ahh ahh ahh marvelous, are you gonna shoot me? Let this ugly flesh rot away until my sceletton can join the others, to be feasted on by vermints and rats, or tossed outside as vulture food. Please hurry up, you’re getting me all so excited” you clasped your hands and held them cutely to the right side of your face, tilting your head to the side and giving him long flaps of eyelashes.  The sight might have looked cute- endearing even were it not for the bone covered in dirt and half rotten flesh clasped in between your hands. 

You were flirting with death; literary. 

“ Do that again and I’ll shoot you to pieces, inch by inch” Dazai hissed in warning, nudging the gun closer to your temple. You grinned in response, yet your grin dropped the second he whacked you with the weapon. 

“ Holy fucking shit- ouch!” you yelped as you took a step back, your back hitting the metal table, adding insult to injury. Your head clasped in your hands; part in actual pain and part in a feeble attempt to guilt a softer responsible- a gentle reaction out of him. 

Seeing right through your act, Dazai took a step closer, almost suffocating you with his murderous aura.  The look in his eyes told you, you were going to regret pushing and toying with him. “ How long until you’re done?” Dazai barked, not a sign of the usual softness he’d use whenever he wanted something out of you. 

You were unbothered by it; neither his loudness nor the gun in his hand scared you any longer. You could see that the rage was there to hide the more vulnerable emotion; longing, fear and desire. Human emotion not reserved for the demon protege. 

“ Hmmm about an hour” you answered without even flinching as he slammed his gun against the metal table behind you, right beside the remains, careful of them, less careful of your hand.

“ An hour? I told you to get this finished before I come!” 

“ You pay peanuts, you get monkeys” you repeated a second time, softer this time. You watched the infuriated emotion pass over his face, then saw it twist into something almost gentle. A caring seductive look that did not suit this terrible man. 

“ You disappoint me Bella,” his voice a silky purr, a heart-wrenching sigh; his body in your space again. Arms on either side of you, head bowed to rest on your shoulder. “ I thought you weren’t going to do that” he turned his head to the side, hot breath fanning your neck. 

You barely resisted a shiver, then felt your knees grow weak as his lips landed on your skin, right above your pulse. You could feel his smile as he pressed more open mouth kisses. Making your mind a jumbled mess, your body an involuntary respondent to his advances. 

God this man was a demon; a monster who played you like a flute. 

You gasped, your head thrown back as his teeth nipped at your skin. Your knees shook, growing weaker with every touch; “ ahh h-he is w-waiting in the other room.”

At your words Dazai let out a low hum, finally stopping his assault on your skin. When he pulled back, he wore a smile. The kind of sweet hopeful look that was not reserved for you. 

Never you. 

You felt his finger tap your nose, bringing your mind back to reality. “ Make sure you keep it up for longer this time, and you’ll be well rewarded” Dazai flashed you a smirk and then stepped away from you. There was a slight skip in his step, a humm that wasn’t there before as he moved towards the door on the opposite side of the room; a bottle of whiskey he swiped from the paperbag in one hand and two glasses in another.  

You heard the door open; Dazai’s sing-song voice calling out “Odasaku~” and a less pleased reply before the door slammed shut. Keeping you out locked out of their conversation, yet just close enough that your ability wouldn’t fade. Not like you would be going anywhere; not when his kisses had turned your body to jelly. 

A dirty yet very effective trick. 

But it was okay; as long as Dazai kept his part of the deal, you did not mind making the dead sing for him. 

Author note: An anon asked if i'd be posting more Dazai fics. And my answer is basically this. Another one with unclear dynamic between reader and Dazai but still I hope you enjoyed,

[ros3kill3r]

angsty & regulus’ death || the letter sirius received from his brother || part 2 of 8

~*~*~*~*~*~*

~*Sirius Black*~

“Drink the tea, darling, it’ll help with the headache.” Euphemia cooed, bringing over a cup of Chamomile tea and placing it in front of her second son. Sirius thanked her with a nod, picking up the cup and bringing it to his chapped lips. James hasn’t been talking to him ever since what happened with Regulus, so because of the cold shoulder he had been getting, he had packed his bags and went to Effie’s and Monty’s house. This had given him some very unwelcome nostalgia and deja-vu.

He chugged the cup in three gulps—to Euphemia’s dismay—and placed the teacup back on its saucer. He placed his head in his left hand, the other fiddling with the handle of the cup. He hadn’t spoken to Remus in a while, it made him realize how much he missed his boyfriend. He nearly smiled at the thought, but then remembered his brother, and he frowned again.

He had a pile of letters sent from Regulus, and Sirius being the stubborn mule he is, he hadn’t read any of them. Remus had told him he must one day, and sadly—Sirius knows this. His relationship with his brother hadn’t been good, not at all, and he wishes his stupidity hadn’t brought them here, yet it did. And it was too late to change that. But was it actually? Maybe he would have the chance to reconnect with his brother. The chances were slim, but not impossible.

He continued fiddling with the empty cup, closing his eyes as the pain in his temples slowly began to fade away. The feeling of the war going on had numbed him. He can’t feel anything now-a-days.

Sirius’ eyes snapped open when hearing a loud thump. He lifted his head, and saw that his now-empty cup had been replaced with a letter. It was upside down, so Sirius didn’t manage to see the address. Monty sat down next to him at the circle shaped table with a huff, ruffling the newspaper in his hands and sliding his glasses down his forehead and onto his nose.

“Who’s it from?” He asked, his eyes not leaving The Daily Prophet. “That owl wouldn’t leave me alone until I untied it.” Sirius sniffled (it was cold in the house—it made him uneasy), and shrugged sluggishly, “No clue. I’ll read it later.” It’s most likely from Regulus. Those words were left unspoken.

Euphemia placed herself gracefully on the other side of Sirius, her own cup of tea in her hands. She smiled at him, and he couldn’t resist smiling back. “Is your head better, dearie?” She hummed, grabbing his hand and rubbing her thumb on his skin in a motherly fashion. It brought him comfort, yet the feeling would always be replaced with guilt after remembering Regulus.

Somehow, maybe it was because of her motherly instincts, Sirius had no clue, she sensed his thoughts. Her gaze wandered down to the upside down letter, and she sipped from her cup, her warm touch still on his hand, and he let her. Effie kicked Monty’s leg under the table and he yelped, dropping the paper from his hands. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he grinned at her sheepishly. Sirius watched this exchange.

She beckoned her head towards Sirius, staring into her husband’s eyes, and he immediately understood. You see, Sirius always craved the advice from a father figure and the love from a mother figure, and both parents had been using this fact to make sure Sirius was more comfortable and more open with them. Monty’s eyes widened with realization and he nodded before grabbing his paper again and leaning back against his seat, a serious expression slipping onto his face, and Sirius barely held back his laughter, his head still in his hand.

“Son, why don’t you read those letters? I’m sure your body will allow some form of worry to let go. And hey, maybe you could reply back to him.” Fleamont spoke smartly, his eyes staring into Sirius’, though instead of Orion’s deadly and disappointed glare, it was a soft and caring one. Sirius sniffed again, and this time he didn’t know if it was from the cold or from uprising emotions in him.

“Darling, perhaps you should! It’ll be good for you.” Effie hummed, having finished her tea. Sirius shrugged, now placing his head in both his hands and rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I d’know, i’m scared.” He mumbled, and there was silence. He thought that perhaps they had left, or he had annoyed them, but all of a sudden he felt a warm embrace. It was Euphemia.

He felt a few warm tears slip down his cheeks, and he didn’t swipe them away. He let himself be engulfed in the parental hug he so desperately needed, and right when she pulled away she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Go read those letters, they might be from James, or from Remus.” She teased, and Sirius blushed with a laugh, thanking her for not mentioning who it most likely was.

He stood up, smiling when Effie slid in his former seat and right next to her husband. Monty smiled at him and with one nudge of his head, Sirius turned around with the letter in hand, and walked to his room. He closed the door behind him, and sat down on his bed. He stared down at the letter, and hesitantly flipped it around, expecting it to be perhaps James with an apology, but he froze. Was it from his parents instead? It was their address, but the writing…this was definitely from Regulus.

He shuddered, gripped onto the all-too-familiar green wax and tore open the envelope. Pulling out the paper inside, he noticed the dried splotches of tears on the letter, and his ‘protective brother’ act immediately flipped to the on button. His brows furrowed as he unfolded the letter with a sharp inhale of breath, and he read.

______________________

08/01/79

To my protector,

If you have received this letter, I am dead. I have told Kreacher to send out all of my letters if I don’t make it back. In all honesty, I always knew I wouldn’t make it back, but I foolishly kept my hopes up. I kept my hopes up that if I went on just a day longer, things would change. But they didn’t. To make sure you read this letter, even if you neglect all the others, I have sent an owl to accompany it and bring it to the receiver.

I will never forget the bond we had as kids, and I hope you never forget them either. I’m sorry that things have turned out this way, and I apologize for not being a brother like James. apologize for not being the little sister you had, and for wishing to be a man. Yet at the end of the day, you have chosen James. I don’t blame you, Sirius. James is an amazing person, and he’s a better choice than I would ever be.

Do you remember when we were kids, we broke our mother’s vase? I remember I was the one that broke it, not you, yet you protected me from the wrath of our mother. You knew she would’ve Crucio’d you, yet you protected me anyway. Because that’s just what you do, Sirius, you protect and that’s the way you love. That’s what I love most about you.

I forgive you for leaving me. Normally, I would never tell a single soul that I forgive you, that I send you letters, that I still love you, but considering my corpse will be underwater, there’s no reason to keep up my facade. I know my death will impact you strongly, because I know without a doubt that you still do love me.

Sirius, please don’t go too hard on James, nothing is his fault. I was the one who had made the first move, and it’s not that I was playing him no not at all, I loved him Siri. I loved him so much, and I always will. I’ll always be in love with him. He was my soulmate. I know that he’s still in love with Lily, and I hope they get together and continue their family line, filled with love. It’ll hurt seeing them together, but the pain will go away eventually.

I guess I should come clean about everything, should I? In our years at Hogwarts, I had joined Remus’ and Lily’s study group, and we had become close friends. I never admitted that I liked being with Lily, but now I will. I understand why James loves her, because I caught myself loving her too.

I have just one request Sirius, don’t judge anyone else for the house they’re put in. And when you see my friends in public anytime, respect them as they respect you. That’s my only wish before I die. I want to see the people I love most showing respect to each other in some way or another.

Never forget who I was, and never forget what I have tried to do. I am not on the Dark Lord’s side, nor am I alongside The Order. I am my own person, with separate beliefs. They’re both bad guys, Sirius. I have a feeling it won’t be long before I see you again after death.

I love you, brother. Maybe in another life we’ll be able to grow old together with the love of our lives. Maybe in another life we’ll understand each other, and there won’t be any stereotypes placed smack-dab in the middle of our foreheads. I face death with the hope that you will all live a long and healthy life, and if not, I fill myself with yet another foolish hope that when we all die, we’ll be reunited.

Tell our story brother, and don’t be ashamed.

R.A.B

______________________

He rose up from his bed, expression like stone but his eyes filled with the gaze of agony. His brother was dead. That’s it. His brother is fucking dead.

He held back his broken cries, stormed over to his closet, and began to rummage around for his luggage. When finding it, he placed it on his bed, opened it with two soft clicks, and began shoving random clothes into it. Euphemia barged into the room without a knock, having heard the ruckus and wanting to see if everything was alright. “Sirius?” She hesitated, staring at him as he ran back and forth around the room, stuffing a shoe in his bag and leaving the other pair in the closet.

“Sirius!” She yelled with an exasperated tone, crossing her arms. “Yes?” Sirius replied, his voice dry and cracking with held back tears. Almost immediately, her eyes softened and she uncrossed her arms. “Oh darling, what happened?”

“THIS!” He roared, his eyes welling up with burning hot tears, and his heart shattering by the second. He shoved the letter in her hands and continued packing. “This.” He mumbled, disbelievingly.

Her eyes surveyed the letter, and her gaze changed from confusion to shock, and then she was suddenly crying. Sirius couldn’t handle seeing her cry. “Oh!” She sobbed, approaching Sirius and wrapping him in her arms. He shut his eyes, not hugging her back. “Oh, I’m so sorry love, I’m so sorry poor boy!”

He sniffled, managing to hold back the volcano of tears waiting to burst. He pulled away from her, going back to packing but this time he did it calmly. “Is there anything I can do for you? Where are you going?”

“James.” He spoke, his nose clogged. Effie nodded her head, patting his back, “is there anything you need at all?”

He stopped, not facing her. “I want to be left alone.” He spoke after a few moments, and she nodded, stepping out of the room. Sirius heard her sobbing to Monty as his voice began to raise with concern and shock. They loved Regulus, so much. He continued packing, and finally closed his luggage, walking out of his room and down the hall, ignoring the calls of Fleamont, and fleeing out of the house.

Halfway through his walk, he realized that he could’ve taken the floo, but it didn’t matter now did it? His brother was dead. He shouldn’t be complaining about a 30 minute walk. His brother is dead. The disbelief was still there.

He knew exactly why he was going to James’ house and not Remus’. It was because 1, it was his house too and 2, James had a history with Regulus, and Sirius wonders if he received a letter too. He’s pretty sure he did.

Finally reaching the house, he noticed the lights were on, and he wondered what sight would be awaiting him when the door opened. He harshly banged his fists against the wood, feeling his heart’s rapid pumping accelerate. The door finally swung open, and he was greeted with the sight of a tired James, freshly cried, eyes puffy, lips bleeding and chapped, weak and stumbling, and Sirius didn’t know if it was from what he had just seen or from keeping in his emotions for so long, but he broke.

He let out a choked sob, taking a step forward and falling apart in James’ hands. Their grips were strong against each other, trying to keep each other steady, but it wasn’t really working. He could tell James was holding himself back, and it made Sirius feel like shit. Feel like shit that James can’t even cry in front of him when his boyfriend is dead. Or, well, his ex-boyfriend thanks to Sirius himself.

“Let it out Prongs, I know it hurts.” He mumbled, hiccuping in his cries. James let out a gasp of air, and then he began to cry. They hugged each other, the grief and the pain in their souls intertwining into one. It was so cold. And Sirius knew it wasn’t from the weather.

After a while of crying and hugging, Sirius spoke, “Di-did you get a letter t-too?” He cringed at his stutter, keeping his eyes closed because he couldn’t really face reality at the moment. He felt James’ slow nod into his black hair (the height difference always bothered him) and the confirmation of what he had been thinking caused another wave of salty droplets to flow out of the tear-ducts in his eyes. They embraced tighter.

Sirius’ knees seemed to buckle, both of the boys falling down to the floor. They didn’t mind. The floor was cold, stable, it felt no different than the state of their hearts. The ravenette will admit, while hugging James he did imagine it was his brother. It was a bit therapeutic actually. It helped, because he knew Regulus had hugged James’ body before. Many times.

They eventually sat down on the couch, still huddled together, and exchanged letters. Seeing the true way Regulus loved James was gut-wrenching enough that the grief, the torture, and the loss made their way inside of his soul for the remainder of his life. It made its little home there, in the dark crevices of Sirius’ spirit. Then—so suddenly and yet so loudly—there was another avalanche of loud knocks against the door.

13 years later, Sirius Black was ashamed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

I wonder like what does Yves like to eat? Does he prefer sweet foods? Savory? Salty? Etc?

I could also imagine that he would change his darlings food cravings and wants with his reality bending if they are lacking a certain vitamin or mineral.

TW: eating disorders, gore and nasty horrible rich people stuff like making people their toilets or something, sexual harassment and human trafficking

He has expensive taste, the palate of a stereotypical rich person. It doesn't matter if the dish is sweet or savory, it must be made from scratch from the freshest produce the market can offer. He prefers to eat his own cooking as he can easily control what goes into it.

Yves has an intense aversion to strong-tasting foods, not because he can't handle the pungent aroma of garlic or other spices; he used to eat boxes upon boxes of takeout, fast food, and convenience meals.

It's because he associated them with the decades he spent struggling to find his footing in this world. They were cheap, accessible, and definitely not something he would willingly put in his body despite knowing it probably wouldn't affect him greatly in any way now.

Foods that are greasy, overly salty, processed to unrecognizable heights, and contain a barrel's worth of sugar are foods that Yves has a strong disdain for. He very much prefers eating foods that are steamed, boiled, or baked with minimal amounts of oil, salt, and sugar. His cooking is definitely still flavourful, it's mostly simple but it has a quality that makes it lavish and 'clean'.

Yves wasn't always like this though. Just like most humans, he started off hating his vegetables and fruits, yearning for junk and other vices. His previous cravings are only exacerbated by the stressful life that he lived, to no one's surprise, he wasn't always in the best shape. Or the best state of mind.

He knows what it was like to live in a severely unhealthy body on both ends of the spectrum. Yves was both a hundred pounds overweight and a hundred pounds underweight, neither phase was fun at all and it just made his life much harder than it was supposed to be.

Yves sobbed hysterically when he failed to stop himself from eating an entire 5-pound chocolate cake to cope with his emotions, then promptly threw up everything afterward on the dingy floor of his dilapidated rental. He was too familiar with the feeling of his two fingers pushing his uvula as deep as he could so he could empty his stomach into the toilet bowl, to the point that the off-white ceramic was painted red. Yves knew what half-eaten hamburgers covered in god-knows-what, found in dumpsters taste like. He knew what ingredient in candies to look for that aided him in vomiting, he tried all the slimming teas, laxatives, and enemas. Yves had his favorite brands.

Yves vividly remembers how he would be out of breath just by standing up, how his joints felt like it was about to give out at any moment. The bruises he received from merely sitting on certain types of chairs, the horrible chafing that led to nasty, debilitating infections because he didn't have the means to receive medical attention, the humiliation, and degradation, painful and permanent swellings, the increased frequency of sexual groping that usually led to something much worse, overheating in a flesh suit that he cannot just remove, the cruel loneliness, the desperation for food when he doesn't even have a single cent left to his name, his reflection and more revolting memories.

He remembers all of it. He remembers the broken bones that were forced to heal on their own, bleeding orifices leaking with excrement due to his abuse of weight-losing drugs, articles of clothing ruined by his own feces and vomit, the obsession over the number on his scale, the shivering even at scorching temperatures, locks of his hair clogging the drain, fainting spells that cost him his meager wages for the week, the taste of his own stomach acid still lingers on his tongue, his "friends" who were equally as ghoulish calling Yves a fat pig and incessantly oinking at him for finishing a whole apple by himself, being unable to chew properly because his teeth were eroded, being unable to fight back because he was just that weak, fingers that looked like it belonged to a rotting corpse, his reflection, the hunger, the hunger, the hunger...

And in both chapters of his life, one thing stayed constant. The infamous, deep-fried, saturated, tastebud-abusing slop served to the disadvantaged masses.

So please do forgive him when he gives you a blank look for an uncomfortable while when you eat a crispy fried chicken leg in front of him. He didn't mean to give the plate of french fries on the table a long, dull stare before digging in like any other normal person; with a lot more elegance. Yves just had a few memories pass through his mind, that's it.

Not to say that he will act like it's the end of the world to eat the food that he hates. You wouldn't know that he despised them unless he told you, Yves would have eaten it without complaint and hesitation, expressing his gratitude to you for getting these for him. He doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, after all.

Yves understands that his experience doesn't necessarily reflect yours, he has no issue with you eating garbage foods in moderation. You will have cravings, it's simply something humans like you have to deal with. He will still agree to have a date or two at a fast-food joint even if he detests the griminess and classlessness of it all, as long as it makes you happy to see him 'enjoying' himself too. Of course, he would attempt and succeed at making healthier alternatives at home.

If you're craving something that is missing many of the key nutrients but it's not harmful to your health, he would fortify it with the needed vitamins or minerals. You couldn't even tell the difference, but your body will.

He will have a massive problem if you exhibit the same symptoms his younger self had. Yves will plant his foot firmly on the ground, he wouldn't even talk to you about it. He goes straight to rewiring your brain without even thinking if Yves noticed your struggles. You would find yourself one day 'cured' of whatever complex you had with food, baffled but grateful, brushing it off as something trivial although it is anything but.

You might notice that the fridge always has at least one tin of sturgeon caviar on a block of ice. You deduced that his favorite food is caviar, but you might not truly know why.

He isn't stingy with it. Yves told you that you are welcome to eat as much as you want (within reason, it has a ridiculously high sodium content). Whether you like eating it or not, it was astonishing that he could replace it as soon as it's finished despite needing to pay an exorbitant amount for a container the size of your palm.

And he associated that overpriced spoonful of fish eggs with the dawn of a new era and the end of his horror-filled years. His life wasn't perfect when he first tried it, far from it actually. He still gets assaulted, spat on, molested, and insulted straight to his face, more so due to his new career as a budding fashion model. But it was a change, an overall positive change.

Despite first trying it at a mansion owned by a syndicate of influential Oligarchs who hire conventionally beautiful people and commit unspeakable acts against them, caviar became a symbol of hope. Yves, disheveled, drugged beyond belief, and covered in bruises, cuts, and disgusting fluids, managed to slip out of the room where the torture happened. His own disorganized thoughts drowned out the screams of his colleagues and the cheers of the rich, Yves was on a mission.

He somehow maneuvered his way through the hallways without being detected by staff or other members, finding his way to one of the private chambers. It was occupied an hour ago, as shown by the mildly displaced chairs and empty crystal glasses.

Even under the influence of substances, his first instinct wasn't necessarily to run away. It was to rob them of everything they had, watches, jewelry, shoes, bags- anything he could get his sticky hands on. God, he so badly wanted to own their wardrobe. The rings looked dazzling on his fingers, and the purses fit right around his arm.

Then his bloodshot, dilated eyes landed on the glass table.

An open bottle of champagne half filled; in Yves's eyes, half-empty. A tray with something he only heard of, but never seen. A tin filled with numerous, tiny black spheres accompanied by a plate of Blinis and an intricate bowl of creme fraiche, and a couple of lemon wedges.

His hands trembled as he stumbled towards the glistening set. These are what the rich and powerful eat. He thought to himself. Yves didn't understand the fondness towards these. Tastewise, he didn't find anything particularly exciting or great. Statuswise...

For a minute, just a mere minute, Yves felt like he was at the top of the world. Yves ate what his 'masters' ate.

It didn't matter that he got caught after, it didn't matter he was made an example of by being urinated in front of an audience, beaten unconscious, and had a skull fracture. For a moment, he was their equal. And this will be the last time he will be disrespected to this level.

He escaped with enough stolen goods to buy his way out of his hell.

And he stole a coveted tin of caviar for himself.

[anticanonsposts]

Hurt/Comfort Alphabet-König

Completely SFW

A= Alleviate (How do they go about relieving persistent physical pain?)

He’s a big ibuprofen paired with ice cream or warm compress kind of guy.

If its back pain he also loves it when you give him back rubs.

Especially because of your size difference he is able to lay on his stomach and you can easily just sit on his butt and go at it.

When he has more cold type symptoms like a sore throat, his go to is tea and honey. 

B= Bedridden (How do they behave when they’re sick?)

He is the suffer in silence type and won’t usually make a fuss about himself being sick.

But when you do cater to him, and coddle him a  bit when he is sick, he gets super happy.

But when you do this he also will not directly ask you for anything because he feels bad, but it’s pretty easy for you to figure out what he needs

C= Cling (Whose physical touch is considered most welcome in their minds when they are in need? Is there a specific type of touch they respond well to?)

He’s very open to arm and shoulder touches, at first he tenses up when you touch his shoulders and you always ask if he’s ok, and he assures you that he is.

Eventually he no longer tenses up.

D= Deathbed (How would they react if they realized they may not recover from their injuries?)

He would honestly think of you and his mom, and be thankful for the time he was able to spend with you two.

He would also be worried about  how his death would impact you and your life.

But his last thoughts would be of you, knowing that no heaven could match his time with you.

E= Emergency (What is their gut reaction when someone they care about is hurt?) 

Contrary to what people would think, his first instinct is to make sure that you are ok and taken care of.

He would first make sure that you are out of danger and the threat is nullified. 

Then his second priority would be taking care of the threat.

F= Fight (Are there circumstances under which they would not accept treatment or care? If so, what are they?)

He’s only human so I feel like there is a limit to what he’d be willing to go through.

If the doctor told him that his chance of recovery was very slim WITH a bunch of different and possible experimental treatments…

He would just not want to give you false hopes that he will one day get better.

Both selfishly and selflessly he would not want to go through a intense, aggressive treatment if the likelihood of recovery was low. Both because physically that would be terrible to go through of course, but also he wouldn't want you to see him deteriorate with a false hope.

G= Ghosts (How has their past shaped the kind of comfort they respond to best?)

Due to his history of being bullied and then the aggression he faced in the military he really responds to praises and words of affirmations. 

Even if they are very simple and casual they really touch his heart and make him feel warm inside. 

H= Home (What things (objects, sensations or people) remind them they’re safe after a scary situation?)

Your hand anywhere on him really comforts and grounds him.

Even though you are not the most physically imposing person he still feels very safe with you.

Because at least if you both feel unsafe, you will navigate the issue together, just knowing that he is not alone in it makes him very happy.

I= Isolation (How do they soothe themselves when no one is around to soothe them?)

He usually will sit or lay down and put something heavy on his chest and just try to focus on his breathing, trying to focus on how it feels and feeling the weight on his chest. 

J= Joy (When was the first time they were truly happy after going through something terrible?)

The two of you visited Austria and the two of you and his mom went to a park to have a picnic and he for the first time after the event felt so secure and happy.

He was with the two people he cared about most in the world and couldn’t get enough of the feeling.

K= Kindness (Do they believe they deserve the comfort they receive? Why or why not?)

Years of bullying have really made him feel like he does not deserve any of the comfort he gets.

But conversely he understands why he gets comfort/praise at his job because he is very competent and knows that. 

But he gets very used to the comfort and kindness you show him and values it very much.

L= Levity (What or who helps them take their mind off of the circumstances?)

Based on what I know about military personnel/veterans re-entering civilian society, I think this would be König’s main struggle to overcome.

He would need to get used to the slower paced and calmer domestic life and I think he would still be startled by loud noises/gunshots/fireworks at times, especially if he wasn’t expecting them.

Anyways 

Kind of a simple answer but I honestly think time would be one of the best healers for him 

The more time he spends at his civilian job and with you helps him get more comfortable.

Overall I think just being grounded in the moment helps his thoughts from running wild and reminiscing on the past.  

M= Music (Is there a song that comforts them? Why is it comforting to them?)

I know stereotypically I wanna say he is into German/Austrian rock but also I think that is the most logical answer

I feel like he might have grown up seeing older kids partake in the club scene in Europe, and might be familiar with that type of music.

I also don’t think he would be super picky when it comes to music, and would listen to whatever you put on.

I think he would eventually like more artists as you introduce him to more. 

N= Nostalgia (What things that comforted them as a kid still work today? Does anyone know that?)

Purely my opinion but I think the dark is very comforting to him.

In the dark he doesn’t have to be seen or perceived by anyone therefore no one is looking at him.

I think he finds security in the hidden aspect.

Also as a kid i think his room was his sanctuary in a way, away from his father mainly.

The dark is also very unstimulating and I think when he was working in the military he would be so stimulated throughout the day that it would be nice to sort of ‘turn everything off’ in the dark. 

And listen sometimes when you’re in a brightly lit, loud environment for a while you just need some time in the dark. 

O= Overworked (Who or what tells them to stop working and take care of themselves?)

Now that he isn’t in the military and in a much less stressful and high stakes job, he really doesn’t need this reminder often.

If he ever does get stressed I think you’d just need to tell him gently that it is not that serious and he would be able to chill out. 

P= Please (Have they ever begged for someone to comfort or stay with them? What was that incident like?)

When you first see him both maskless and shirtless at the same time he would be super nervous because of the copious amount of scars he has.

He would want to just stay with you the rest of the day, in each other’s arms. 

Q= Questions (Are they eager to talk about what or why they’re hurting? Why or why not?)

For sure not at first, he was raised with more traditional views/roles so it takes him a while to accept that he can have and express negative feelings other than anger.

Once he gets more comfortable though he gets better and better at articulating what is hurting him and why, and is better able to work towards solutions. 

R= Relief (How do they react to the realization that they will soon be fully recovered?)

Assuming that this pertains more to a physical injury I think like anyone he would feel better that he was going to feel normal again. And be able to do things as he normally did them before the injury. 

He would also reflect a lot on how much you helped him during this time and that makes him feel very loved. 

S= Scared (What would it take for them to admit that they’re scared?)

At the beginning of a relationship I think it would either take a very high amount of fear or lots of time for him to admit it. 

But as the relationship progresses he would be more comfortable accepting and admitting he was afraid. 

T= Time (How long does it take for them to feel better after an ordeal or illness? Do they tend to lie about how soon they feel better?) 

When it comes to physical illnesses or injuries I think he brushes them off pretty quickly since he is used to doing that because of work. 

You often need to remind him that he is no longer in a high stress, unstable environment therefore he can and should slow down and allow his body more time to heal.

An emotional/mental type wound would of course take longer to heal, and I do see him as the type of person to lie about if he was feeling better.

But you get pretty good at reading his moods, so even if he says he feels better and you can tell that he doesn't, you usually just do the same or similar things you do when he does admit to not feeling good.

I also peg him as also being able to read your mood very well (trauma induced hypersensitivity to others’ emotions) so I think he would catch on if you did this but would also be happy that you were not pushing him to talk about the issue and instead just offering him support until he was ready. 

U= Ugly (What part of their recovery process are they ashamed of, if any?)

I think after so many years of being treated like a giant strong man and having people constantly make comments about it, he would feel ashamed when either he physically was injured and had limits or mentally.

I think he would also feel embarrassed that he needed support from you, since in his eyes, he always wanted to be your safety net but now the roles were reversed.

Especially if it's an emotional type of issue, I think he was raised with pretty ‘traditional’ roles and it took him a while to accept that he could feel things and not feel ok and that that was just fine. 

V= Valiant (Has anyone told them they were brave for facing what they did? How would they react if someone did?)

Once he opens up to you about past bullying and other things that have happened in his past and you are nothing but supportive and sympathetic to what he went through…

Your reaction when he told you about the bullying was quite literally you telling him that you were proud of him and he was brave for what happened, I think he’d tense up a bit, not quite sure how to handle it.

He would probably even cry, especially if you two were in a private setting and would try to hold the tears in but you would coax them out of him eventually. 

W= Why? (How did they process what happened to them?)

I personally think that him volunteering for the armed forces was an act of rebellion against his dad as well as a way to get away from his home. I also think with his history of bullying he sort of saw the armed forces as a way for him to do something ‘right’ and even if he was still a victim of torment at least the other volunteers/recruits would be as well. 

I also think when he opens up more and more to you about it he would dismiss a lot of it and insist that it wasn’t really that bad. 

X= Xenas (Do they see anyone as an inspiration in their recovery? Does their inspiration know about this?)

For emotional and physical things I think that if you have had any issues he looks to you for inspiration.

Both because if someone as perfect and strong as you can get better and heal then so can he. As well he pictures a beautiful life together with you in the future, and uses that as motivation. 

Y= Yearn (What gesture, person or thing do they desperately want, but would never actually ask for?)

As much as he loves doing everything for you, he fucking loves being babied. 

Like I can imagine him bundled up in bed or on the couch sick as a dog, you with him, and frequently getting him meals, snacks, water, and gatorade. 

You tried to spoon feed him soup once and he insisted that was too much but secretly enjoyed it. 

Z= Zero (What is the best way to comfort them without touching them?) 

I think just knowing that you are there for him and available if he needs it would be the best comfort. 

For example if you are together in a parallel play type situation, where you are in the same room but doing two completely different things. 

Or if you were both at work, getting messages from you about benign or funny things, not necessarily about whatever he is going through, just your presence and open ears really comforts him. 

[imagoddamnonionmason]

Ashley "Smokey" Woods

Basic Information

Other name(s): Ash

Citizenship: US

Language(s): English, Spanish, Russian

Place of Birth: [redacted].

Date of Birth: 17/08/1983

Occupation: US Navy Fighter Pilot

Status: Alive

Physical Appearance

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Black brown

Skin: pale fair, white

Tattoo(s): Right arm, from shoulder tip spanning over upper arm and ending at the elbow. A phoenix, consumed by flames, ash and smoke. [Example Image]

Scar(s): none, yet.

Face Claim: (Adult) Jennifer Connelly, [child face claim]

Description: Ashley, in her down time, can be found wearing a combination of the following types of clothing: straight, mom or slim jeans, plain coloured short and long sleeved shirts, flannel shirts (got that style from her dad), leather jacket, heavy fur lined winter coat, sneakers or boots.

She got into the habit of wearing non-branded clothes throughout her teens, picked up from her mother; the only item of clothing she own that has any sort of picture/brand on it is a baseball cap.

Her features are an even balance between her mother and father, her eye shape resembles that of Jodie, whereas the colour is an exact match of Frank's. She has the same nose as her mother, too. Although, most people say she looks more like Frank, until she then stands next to Jodie. Then when she stands in the middle of her parents, people can't decide which on she resembles more.

However, most faces she pulls, the facial gestures, are very much Frank. You can definitely tell she is her father's daughter, lol.

Ashley's hair is very straight, black-brown in colour like Frank's and it straight cut at her shoulders with a middle parting. She keeps it long enough that she can comfortably tie it back without any strays falling into her face.

Personality

Like(s): adrenaline rushes, flying, tinkering with cars/bikes, taking things apart and putting them back together again, puzzles, rollercoasters, riding her motorcycle, adventure, pizza, coffee (like her mum), teasing/banter with her dad

Dislike(s): bullies, people who abuse their authority in order to cause harm to others, being underestimated, people making assumptions about her based on her parents, tea, certain kinds of bugs (centipedes will freak her out), scratchy tags in clothing, arguments without a point/baseless accusations, bland tasting foods

Strength(s): loyal to a fault, fast thinker, calm under pressure, witty, funny, cares deeply, tactically intelligent, diligent, meticulous, takes no shit, will stand up for herself and others, defends the little guy

Weakness(es): can be blunt sometimes, doesn't work well with new people easily it takes her time to warm up to new additions to teams, can sometimes seem like she prefers working alone/with a small group, can get annoyed easily when someone messes with her routine in a big way, can sometimes let her anger get the better of her, can sometimes be a little impulsive

Relationships

Parent(s): Frank and Jodie Woods

Sibling(s): none

Spouse(s): David Mason

Children: Savannah and Jessica

Biography

Ashley was born in 1983 to Frank Woods and Jodie Hall, who would then later marry to become Mr and Mrs Woods. Her childhood wasn't without its challenges, though it was the best that both of her parents could offer given their line of work and the dangers they faced. Ashley cannot really remember ever wanting for anything.

Though her memories are not great surrounding this, she knows that there was a time during her childhood that she had to be heavily protected, though she was never made privy as to why. Jodie always said that it didn't matter, that it was over with, and there was no need to worry about that anymore. Ashley was always curious throughout her teens of the subject, but Jodie would often ask her to stop. It's only when she's older that Jodie and Frank explain about Jodie's past and a man named Keith.

When old enough, Ashley had made the decision that she wanted to follow in the footsteps of her parents and pursue a career in the military and spent a lot of time weighing up her options; initially, she was met with both of her parents trying their best to convince her to choose something else to do with her life, but she was dead set on it. Jodie relented first, Frank did so later. Both knew she would only do as she wished anyway. Once Ashley had looked into all possibilities, she had settled on wishing to join the Navy, the interest sparked after David had joined. Given that she had a lifelong interest in aviation, planes and fighter jets, Ashley knew where her path within the Navy would take her. Her aim was to become a fighter pilot (maybe she also saw Top Gun, which made the job look even cooler when she was a teen).

The path to becoming a Navy fighter pilot was long, arduous but definitely worth it. She gained a degree in engineering, then moved through the required training. It may have taken her years, but those years were spent going through regimented, gruelling training to become a well-rounded, adaptable, skilled fighter pilot.

Later on in her career, she goes through more training to become an instructor, teaching the next generation of pilots.

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 2)

Masterpost, Part 1

Platonic Whitebeard Pirates & Reader-Insert (with glasses)

Warnings: Platonic Yandere behavior and yes, the kidnapping is still actively occurring. If yandere content disturbs or otherwise unsettles you, I deeply suggest you do not read this series and block the tag "oh sweet child of mine" as well as "one piece yandere". Though mostly framed in a humorous way, it is still very toxic and problematic behavior that you should, in no way, entertain in real life from anyone.

Stay safe and enjoy.

Word Count: 1,540 (would be longer, but I didn't want to have this transitionary chapter be squished in with meeting Whitebeard and settling in)

When you became a marine, you had considered what you would do if you ran afoul of pirates. Assuming they didn’t kill you outright, that is.

In none of these imagined scenarios did you picture yourself awkwardly curled up in a med bay on one of the ‘junior’ Moby Dicks. As it turns out, Fire Fist and The Phoenix were running a small supply run simultaneously to another junior vessel since none of the surrounding islands could accommodate the Moby Dick herself—the Yonko ship being so absolutely massive for her crew and captain. A young man with a blue mask over his eyes ‘Masked Deuce’ was wiping your face and inspecting your nose for any damage that hadn’t been healed with a critical eye. Fire Fist was somewhere else—likely getting food for himself if his gluttonous behavior was any indication—while The Phoenix appeared to be starting your medical file.

That… was probably not good. The slim possibility that you were going to just be ransomed seemed to dissolve with every scratch of ink he added.

“Well, aside from some possible malnutrition and exhaustion, you seem in good shape. Not what I’d expect of a marine in these parts, though I guess they didn’t care too much about your physical condition.” Deuce placed a firm hand on your shoulder and smiled. “If you’re interested, we can get you into good shape in no time! Or maybe you’re interested in pursuing something else? Oyaji has plenty of resources we can use.” You couldn’t help but grimace and tug on your hat.

“I uh… I’m a marine?” You said, wincing at the questioning tone. “I didn’t enlist for the uniform, you know… I… I’m supposed to try and arrest pirates. Not… join them.” You explained awkwardly. Deuce just laughed while The Phoenix snorted softly.

“Everyone adjusts differently. You’ll love it here eventually.” Deuce winked before handing you a set of clothes to change into. The shirt was emblazoned with Whitebeard’s Jolly Roger.

You were rather at a loss for words. You… well, you couldn’t exactly fight them. You knew that. But you felt rather like the world had tilted dramatically the other way on it’s axis while you weren’t looking. The only way this could get more bizarre is if Fleet Admiral Sengoku called you and congratulated you for the successful adoption and your new, very criminal, pirate-Yonko family.

“Bring-ring. Bring-ring. Bring-ring.”

Oh god, you weren’t ready!? Please no?!

Horrified, you scrambled to pull the snail from your pocket, The Phoenix sliding up and leaning on the bed as you answered.

“Ensign—”

“Where the hell are you?! Ensign Williams was found, thoroughly beaten mind you, on the ground! You were assigned to be his partner!” You almost wept with relief that you were just getting torn a new one.

“A-Ah—W-Well, I-I attempted to flee with Ensign Williams when The Phoenix was spotted with Fire Fist but was… very unsuccessful.” You admitted lamely as one of the men responsible for your plight gave a placid smile, his eyes fixed on you with a horrifying intensity. Though you had no idea what for. If he was pissed you answered, he was more than welcome to take the call himself at this point.

“And why not, Ensign?! Your orders were quite clear!”

“Because I was captured instead?” The snail sputtered.

“Then escape and return to base!” The operator screamed. You were nearly in tears, your day successfully having gone from bad to absolutely the fucking worst.

“How?!” You whispered in horror, practically seeing the dry response in The Phoenix’s eyes.

Run and I will scoop you up with my talons and fly you all the way to Oyaji myself.

The receiver was plucked from your hands and you were torn between thanking your captor or trying to get it back. In the end, you did neither.

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening. Feel free to mail us their last paycheck because they won’t be returning. Consider this their resignation.” The snail blanched.

“On who’s authority, you filthy pirate!”

The Phoenix grinned, all teeth and eyes narrow, sapphire slits.

“Their new big brother.”

It would almost be inspiring how confident he sounded if he didn’t say it like he was declaring that your kidney would taste delightfully delicious.

Any response was cut off by him lifting up the transceiver shell and crushing it with his bare hands.

His smile turned much more friendly as he set the traumatized snail down, but the edges still seemed… feral. He ruffled your hair, knocking off your marine cap in the process.

“Get changed and wash up properly before dinner. It’ll be a few more hours before we meet up with Oyaji. Ace will make sure it’s burned.” Overwhelmed and horrified, you couldn’t help the slight whimper.

“…but I like my uniform.”

The Phoenix paused, giving you a slightly pitying smile as he gave you a side hug, blue fire flickering over the both of you. Any other circumstances, it would feel warm and reassuring.

“I know it’s a lot, kid. But you’ll be fine, I promise.” He paused looking down at you. “The hat’s gotta go, but, I tell you what, how about you keep this, yoi?” He tugged the blue neckerchief loose and placed it on top of your ‘new’ clothes.

Against your better judgment, you were a little touched at the suggestion.

What is your life now? You’ve been kidnapped, forcibly made to join a Yonko crew, and now you feel touched because one of the commanders is letting you keep a token of your job?!

Whatever.

You’d just get issued a new uniform later.

If you ever get away from this crazy ass band of pirates.

“I do like the color…” You added lamely, unwilling to push the argument considering how laughably easy it would be for him to force the issue. And then you’d have nothing left of your own.

“I like the color blue, too, yoi.” You looked at him with a frown. Glancing at his shirt.

“Not purple?” The Phoenix blinked, surprised at your dry response before chuckling.

“Alright, sassy pants. Get marching.” He smirked, shooing you to the bathroom to get changed. Flush and embarrassed, you escaped before he could say anything else.

Now… did your new pants even have pockets big enough for your animal treats?

--*--

Surprisingly, the new clothes fit well. Roomy enough that you didn’t get weirded out that they had your exact size but small enough that it wasn’t going to fall off of you anytime soon.

Your marine blue neckerchief was tied around your right wrist. The only part of your uniform you got to keep besides your shoes.

Any blood was gone from your hands or face but Fire Fist still felt the need to inspect them, playfully pinching your nose to see if it hurt still. Upon seeing that you were in perfectly fine shape, and freshly clean, he beamed.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Oyaji, he’s going to be happy to have a new kid running around. It’ll be a while before you get assigned to a division, but don’t worry, they’re all pretty great! Well, not as great as mine, but still!” Fire Fist laughed boisterously as The Phoenix rolled his eyes, lightly smacking Fire Fist’s head.

“They gotta get used to the crew first, Ace. Don’t jump the gun so quickly or you’ll hurt their feelings.”

Ah yes. Their biggest concern in this whole debacle.

Your feelings.

Cause fuck the law, that’s why. And everything else for good measure.

But also your feelings, because if that was actually a concern they would have left you with your asshat partner and a bloody nose.

… your previous circumstances does not, in fact, justify kidnapping and forced recruitment.

You are a marine damnit! Maybe not a strong one, or even a great one (yet), but there has to be a line somewhere!

“Ahah~! Right, sorry! Here, we’re having soup! It’s not as good as Thatch’s food, but we’re getting back too late for dinner so it’ll have to do. He’ll want a little more warning to pull out all the stops anyway.” Fire Fist laughed, handing you a bowl of hot soup. It smelled good, but despite your hunger, you were still a little thrown.

“…Does he often want to impress captives?” You whispered, more to yourself than anything. Fire Fist paused and actually flushed, laughing to himself.

“Sort of, yeah. He kept trying to feed me while I tried to kill Oyaji for over a hundred days, you know!” You blanched, horrified.

You had forgotten that little tidbit, although most of Fire Fist’s recruitment into the Yonko crew was a mystery, you had overheard that bit.

Suddenly, your prospects of getting out of this scot-free seemed… unlikely.

If being a marine isn’t a deterrent, and neither is many murder attempts, then what the hell could get you out of this? Fire Fist kept laughing as you caught The Phoenix’s eye.

He seemed darkly amused and very much aware of your predicament.

He clapped your shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about it so much. You’ll figure it out.”

Somehow, you don’t think he was talking about escaping.

[lettersfromaphrodite]

[3.17]

― pairing : Hyunjin x fem! reader ― content warnings : fluff, friends to lovers ― word count : 597

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

A deep sigh awoke you just as you were about to fall asleep. You shuffled as much as you could, or most likely, as much as Hyunjin’s arms allowed you to. Your best friend was laying behind you, protectively embracing your body as you two cuddled into each other’s warmth, both trying to fall asleep. Realizing he was still awake, you softly tapped on his arm around your waist and turned around until you faced him.

«Hyunjin,» you hummed, gently caressing his cheek and closing your eyes «Go back to sleep.» His arms tightened around your waist signalling he heard you, but he remained silent. You opened your eyes, trying to make out his shape as much as you could – as much as your dark bedroom allowed to, the tiny neon lamp painting his ceiling with various constellations slightly helping you. «What’s on your mind?» you tried again, softly. 

«Nothing, it’s just… Stupid.» Hyunjin shook his head, delicately placing his forehead against yours. You smiled, glad that whatever it was, he wasn’t so angry about it to completely shut you out from his thoughts. 

«I’m waiting.» you hummed, few silent moments later. Hyunjin sighed, and shuffled until he leaned down to hide his face in your neck.

«Stop asking me about how Felix is doing, it makes me insanely jealous.» his words were slightly muffled due to him speaking directly against your neck, so you weren’t sure you heard him well. Despite this, your heart started racing; you suspected that in the middle of the absolute silence of his bedroom he could hear it but even if he did, he said nothing

“Does he have a crush on me as well?” You thought.  You swallowed, nervously, asking him to repeat himself.

«I said,» he started, lifting himself off your body and rolling you around, so that you were laying on your back and he was partially laying on your chest. «Stop asking me about Felix. I like you, ask me about how I am doing.» he abruptly confessed, overcame by a wave of courage secretly provided by your perfectly audible quickened heartbeat. Hyunjin was perfectly aware that he was risking to destroy a friendship that had lasted for more than five years, but he felt like he had to take this weight off his heart. He felt that tonight was the right moment. You stared at him dumbfounded, your lips slightly parted.

«Hyunjin,» you said, with an insecure voice «Do you… like me, or do you… like like me?» you asked, your hands tentatively reached out to hug the other’s slim waist.

«Of course I like like you, silly.» Hyunjin chuckled, affectionately poking your nose with his index fingers and your hands immediately reached towards his nape, connecting your lips. Your answer came in the form of a kiss. Hyunjin’s kisses were exactly as you imagined them: soft, caring and gentle – exactly as Hyunjin behaved towards you during all these years. You sighed content and you felt him smiling against your lips, softly biting on it every now and then.

«I like like you, too.» you mumbled a few hours later, your head on his chest and hugging him close.

«I know.» Hyunjin whispered, you could feel he was smiling. You lift yourself up, confused.

He chuckled «Apparently, Jisung spills the best tea when he’s drunk.» You groaned, falling back on his chest with red cheeks and feeling embarrassed. Hyunjin laughed at your reaction, hugging you close to his body. You fell asleep like that not much later, both with a happy smile on your lips and a lighter heart.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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[aboredindividual]

Courting gifts and proposing

They courting process may vary depending on social status of the families, secondary genders involved and the level on which tradition is enforced but it also has few things that can't be skipped over. Courtship can last from 1 to 5 months, with courter and courted being often chaperoned (it's prevalent in aristocratic and wealthy families, common people are more lax with this). The pair will often exchange courting gifts and perform rituals that will bring the couple together . With courtship period ending , the pair will decide then if they want to go through betrothal and mate.

Courtship tokens :

Folded paper (Origami, zhezhi) - often is the first thing that a courter will gift even before formal courtship as a question ,,I feel something for you, do you feel the same?". If the reciever gives back a similliar paperfold back it is the sign that you can continue on with the affections. The paper used is heavily scented by the courter as a reminder and a keepsake. Popular shapes of the paper involve animals and flowers such as : mandarin ducks, swans , butterflies, doves, rose, lily, herons, Magnolias, Rabbits etc.

Combs - because of hair's smell-absorbing qualities, any hair related coutship gifts are always a good baseground and a popular choice. Combing one's hair is an intimate affair that only immediate family and a spouse will have priviledge to. Gifting a comb is a way to say ,, I wanna grow old with you"

Hair accesories - they vary from hairpins to guans, scented hair ties to hairclips, they are a flashy way to set claim on someone and a good test to whenever your tastes match with the courted.

Bracelet - omegas (especially high-ranking ones) wear wrist-covering bracelets for their scent glands. Single ones ofter wear simple styled bracelets, so gifting omega a lavish one may establish them as someone elses. It is a gift of utter seriousness of courted's feeling. Bracelets also can be given to beta's but it won't hold as serious meaning as omegas, but the beta will appreciate it nontheless ,who doesn't like jewelry amiright? If you are gifting bracelet to an alpha, remeber to keep it simple and slim, like a bangle :3

Collars - An official gift that has serious weight to it , equivalent to saying ,,proposal is just a matter of time" . Collar is a symbol of utter claiming that when gifted the omega will wear up until the end of courtship period and if they accept proposal- to the wedding date. Do not give the a collar if you are not completely serious about the matter. Presenting omega a collar and then not going throught with a proposal is a scandalous manner that rivals jilting!!

Nest supplies - a good, useful gift for an omega. Scented Pillows, blankets or plushies are good nesting companion , granted that they are made of easily washable materials. You litterally cannot go wrong with this gift. The softer the better!!

Food - A well meaning gift made from love. The courted will often make dishes by hand to show that they can provide and care for the courter. When dates are set in indoor places, food tends to be of less variety and being more filling , while date that take place in an outdoor space such as garden or a meadow ,then food tends to be more bite sized and varied for example dumplings, tarts, cakes, tea, sandwiches and fruitsticks.

Hankerchief - a scented hankierchief is often used gift by unmated omegas and female betas that alpha or male beta can always take out and take a whiff of. A classical gift of reciprocation of feelings.

Fans - usually depicting a piece of nature, poetry or historical events, fans are great gifts for summer heat. Fans are often made from wood and paper so it can also carry scent from the courter. A fan is a representation of person's personality so make sure that it matches the person recieving it!

Scent Perfume: A long distance gift suitable for any dynamics. To get them you need to go to a professional shop specializing in perfume making. The attendants will then carefully evaluate your scent and will best try to recreate it. They are a long lasting and easily portable.

Important ritual in courtship

Scent marking - a proccess when the pair exchange scents. It always starts small and with each month of courting the scent marking level goes further. In the beginning its only sniffing each others wrist, then evolves into rubbing eachothers wrists together, then it turns into intimate touches such as hugs or handholding and finally scenting eachothers neck. ( Note: in suburban and urban areas this step often is less regulated and strict. This high level of propriety and privacy remains often in high social clasess).

Proposing

Exchanging a bite on the wrist scent gland is often an action that cements betrothal. The mark is not permament and will fade after around 4 months. A bite on the wrist shows other people that you are taken and unavailable.

[when-i-wake-if]

Some quick important information before we get to the ros descriptions!

Firstly I have lovely nicknamed the MCs to differentiate them easily

MC 1 is Dawn and when I mention them I will use Orange colour!

MC 2 is Dusk and their colour is Purple

Secondly, this game is technically a side project to @wanted-game-if and will update in shorter parts but will still probably be as long as my other IF

If you have any questions about the game, MCs or anything really feel free to send asks!!

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Dawns ROs

Xeno || Xe/Xem || 21 || Human

Description ~ Short coily dark brown hair, lean build with a Bronze complexion, dark green eyes, Nubian nose, Xyr height is 5’11, Xe has a full tattoo sleeve on Xes right arm and a tattoo on the side of Xyr neck when outside of work Xeno tends to wear ripped black jeans, no sleeve neck length shirt, runners and a bunch of rings, necklaces and one stud earring.

Selena || She/Her || ?? || Ghost

Description ~ Shoulder-length ginger hair that is curled at the tips, She has a chubby build and pale skin, greyish blue eyes, a button nose, height if she could stand on the floor would be 5’3, freckles kiss her face and shoulders, she forever dressed in a light blue tea length swing dress and stockings with a pair of black flats, adorned in pearl earrings and necklace, to most she appears slightly translucent

Brier || He/Him or She/Her || Gender selectable|| 228 || Vampire

Description ~ Chin length afro-textured dark brown hair, Slim build and ebony complexion, Dark red eyes, button nose, height 5’7, outside of work they typically wear wide cuff pants, cropped blouse with a sweetheart collar, 4-inch heels or black dress shoes, round glasses, realistic heart shaped earrings, ruby necklace, silver rings

Míng || They/He || 30 || Dragon

Description ~ bleached white shoulder-length hair, lean build light brown complexion, black sclera and piercing yellow iris, flat nose height being 5'7, scales litter their body colours mainly being yellow and orange with some red ones sprinkled in, typically wears graphic tees , with a worn-out black bomber jacket, cargo pants and platform boots

Both MCs

Is || she/her, he/him or they/them || Gender selectable || ??? || Minor God of death {and dreams}

Description~ Long straight black hair that reaches past their ass typically in some kind of intricate hairstyle with silver jewellery woven in, curvy build with a tanned complexion, pale white eyes, roman nose, height 8,5 when not forced to dress modestly they are always wearing a short dress with a marabou robe or a satin robe and six-inch heels, adorned in many silver bracelets, necklaces, rings and flower earrings and they have belly button piercing

Dusks ROs

Sire || He/Him || 26 || Kelpie

Description ~ Shoulder length wavy dark green hair so dark it almost appears black Sire's hair always seems to look wet/damp, he has a dad bod and Ivory complexion, black eyes, Greek nose, His height is on the slightly shorter side standing at 5’4, usually wearing black leather pants, dress shoes and a button up shirt that never fully buttoned up

Loralie || They/Them || 24 || Siren

Description ~ Mid back length black goddess braids, Athletic Swimmer build and Dark brown complexion with dark blueish grey scales scattered about, piercing grey eyes, Flat nose, height 6’2, a large scar down the middle of their chest, gills most noticeable upon their neck, outside of work they typically wear cargo pants, muscle shirt, converse shoes, a gold locket, dangle earrings, spectrum piercing

Joshua || He/They || 20 || Werewolf

Description ~ Short messy dirty blonde hair, muscular build and tan complexion, amber eyes, Greek nose though it has obviously been broken in the past, scar along the right of their jaw, freckles speckled over his face, height 6’0, typically wears work boots, jeans and a muscle shirt with a flannel jacket

Z || She/He/They || ?? || Undead

Description ~ Messy straight chin length black hair with strands of grey hairs throughout, skinny build and pale olive and appears slightly greeny yellowish, black eyes, hawk nose, the height of 5'6 the left corner of her mouth is carved away revealing most of their teeth and flesh and their left hands pinky and ring finger are just bone the surrounding area seems to have a hideous burn scar though he typically covers it up by wearing white gloves, black turtle neck, beige torn pants and two different pairs of dirty runners

So this isn't absolutely everything but it is the most prominent thing of their appearances

The synopsis for the story will be coming hopefully by the end of May along with some more technical side I hope for the demo to come out in late August or early September we will see how things go