#The Flower Behind the Moth | OOC

[pushspacetocontinue]

Adorkable Astrophile | Russell Charles Tolbert

“Oh h-hello. Welcome to, to Hidden Gems. I um, I don't, I don't, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here be-before. Want some, want some game recommendations or uh, or maybe a drink? A snack maybe? Sorry, my, my mouth doesn't always work as, as it should, but feel free to, to have a look around and, and stay a while if, if you'd like. I'll, I'll just be here"

Please feel free to give this post a like and/or a reblog if you’re interested in interacting with Russell, a courteous and kind (if not a little bit shy) clerk of an indie-focussed game store (with an attached café) who will gladly greet and serve a werewolf, a ghost or a vampire or other supernatural beings as much as he would a human customer for their gaming, caffeine, or treat related needs.

Indie, multi-fandom (AUs listed), and multi-ship fandomless original character. Crossovers, other OCs, and canon characters all very much welcome. Prefers to roleplay with mutuals but not completely closed off to non-mutuals, I promise. Feel free to hit me up in my ask or IMs if you want to plot. 

Penned by Flower (or Rae, whichever you like). They/them pronouns. 30+ years old. 15+ years of writing and roleplay experience.

[Character Stats] [Rules] [Ask] 

Artwork for this post created by @finch-beeps and used with permission.

Mobile Links Available in the Sidebar

[blooddrinkingbartender]

Regarding Antonio's hypnosis abilities.

I got a (rightfully) concerned anon about this, and while I have explained it, I figured putting it in a separate post wouldn't hurt either.

His powers of hypnotism are not going to be used for any godmodding or power play or anything like that.

If he's hypnotised a muse in a thread with seemingly no effort or resistance, it's because the other writer and I plotted it out, discussed and agreed on it behind the scenes, so to speak. Same goes for whatever the muse might do under his command.

Antonio is pretty powerful with his mind control, but I won't be doing any power playing or godmodding. None of it is out of nowhere or without permission whenever he uses those powers on other owned muses (just NPCs or my other player characters), whether it's for plot reasons or just because it would be funny.

Rest assured. None of the stuff Antonio does to another muse in a thread in regards to hypnosis/mind control is not done without permission or agreement from the other mod. Permission and plotting with that is always done first

[diushek]

Shen Yuan, who has been getting tattoos since he was eighteen due to his extra money and little sense of self-preservation. Nothing anime or anything virgin like that: landscapes elaborated like paintings, cherry blossom trees like ink dripping on his skin, a full sleeve of artwork that climb up his shoulder blade and slide down his spine with butterflies and moths, wild flowers, spider lilies, traditional clouds on his ribs; it was painful, but hey, the chronically ill Shen Yuan knows pain, and he's used to it. At least he'll leave a nicely decorated corpse behind when he goes.

So, Shen Yuan transmigrates. Shen Qingqiu has no tattoos, of course; his skin is white and flawless in a way that Shen Qingqiu hasn't seen his own skin in years. It's a little sad, but he sighs and lets it go.

Then one morning, he see a spot on his forearm. It looks like a mole is sprouting there, but more than a mole... It looks like a petal? Shen Qingqiu examines it and sighs, because honestly, he has seen stranger things lately.

So, more petals. The curve of the branches of a cherry tree. Shen Yuan recognizes the outline of his own tattoos on his old body, somehow ridiculous, transmigrating slowly into this body too! What the hell!

He thanks the robes that cover every part of his skin for the first time. Nothing is visible or strange. It's not like anyone would see Shen Qingqiu naked enough to ask questions about it.

Not much has happened and he hasn't even fully unlocked OOC mode when his skin is actually covered with his own tattoos. Oh, poor original goods, wherever he is, he must be rolling over in his metaphorical grave.

Then, that first mission happens, and Shen Qingqiu finds himself awakened in that skinner demon situation... Half-dressed!!!

Oh no!! The tattoos on his collarbone and chest are visible now!!!

Oh, fUCK, LUO BINGHE IS WATCHING HIM-

(Luo Binghe doesn't make any comment on that afterwards. Shen Qingqiu pretends he hasn't been seen and they both ignore the elephant in the room.)

...

(Luo Binghe had never been so horny in his whole life. How could someone as cold and neat as Shizun have so many drawings tattooed on his skin? Would he let Luo Binghe see them all, ever? Did he only have those, did he have more? What drawings were they? What meanings would they have? Would Shizun take needles and ink and put a drawing over Luo Binghe's heart? His Shizun couldn't refuse that, Luo Binghe would say that the only way to make it safe would be with the help of his Shizun... and he couldn't deny that Binghe had tattoos, considering all his own... Whatever his Shizun chose for him would be fine, just for having his Shizun making them on his skin so Luo Binghe could wear them forever...)

[wolvietxt]

𝓒LOSER 𝓣HAN 𝓑EFORE !

pairing : daryl dixon x female!reader warnings : implied age gap, crybaby!reader, he’s a bit ooc, overprotective rick wc : 2.1k a/n : i’m seriously debating writing for carol i want her so bad also can u tell i’m in love with rick

it had been a week since the group returned from their last supply run. as usual, you'd found a quiet spot in the prison, back against the cold concrete wall, a pencil in hand, and your notebook resting on your knees. with each sketch, you could lose yourself in the lines and shapes, letting the chaos of the outside world fall away.

daryl had seen you tucked away like this more times than he could count. he often found himself stealing glances in your direction when he thought you weren’t looking, the way you focused intently on your drawings. there was something calming about it, a slice of peace in a world that had long since forgotten the meaning of the word. he liked that you managed to create beauty in such a bleak place, and it stirred something warm inside him.

as he gathered supplies for the next run, he couldn’t help but feel a pull toward you, the way a moth is drawn to a flame. but even as that warmth spread through him, a thread of hesitation tugged at his heart. he didn't know how to approach you without sounding awkward or making things weird. you were sunshine to him, and he feared his often grumpy demeanour would cast a shadow over your light. but he was trying, to be kinder, especially around you. the group made it easy, at this point, rick was almost like a brother to him, and carol a best friend. to his eventual dismay, this meant she knew a whole lot about him and could read him like a book.

“hey, daryl,” carol’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. she had a knowing look in her eyes, the kind that made him shift uncomfortably. “you’ve been staring at her again.”

he scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. “i ain’t staring.”

“sure,” she said with a teasing smirk. “just like you weren’t the one who picked up that flower for her last week.” 

that had been a mistake. you had looked so happy, your smile lighting up the whole room. and damn if that hadn’t made him feel all sorts of things. but now, he just shrugged it off. “she’s a good kid. just… i dunno, wanted to do something nice.”

carol raised an eyebrow, a playful grin on her face. “you’re not fooling anyone, daryl. you care about her.”

“i care about everyone in this group,” he replied a bit too quickly, his tone defensive. 

“sure you do,” she said, walking away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

he watched you again, how you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, completely absorbed in your art. he wanted to be closer to you, to show you how much you meant to him. but the words always stuck in his throat, trapped beneath layers of his own insecurity. he knew he wasn’t good enough for you, but he wanted you like he never had before.

later that day, the group gathered to discuss the next supply run. rick, as usual, was leading the meeting, his face drawn and serious. “we need to get more medical supplies. that last run barely did us any good.”

you were sitting under carol while she toyed with your hair, comfortable inbetween her legs while she was sitting on one of the beds. flipping through your notebook, a page with a half-finished drawing of a sunset catching your eye. you liked how it reminded you of the days before everything fell apart. 

“we’ll need someone to stay back and guard the place,” rick continued, looking around the room. “any volunteers?”

before you could even think, carol spoke up. “i’ll stay. i can help keep watch.” 

“me too,” you chimed in, glancing at daryl, who met your gaze for a brief moment. there was something in his eyes that made your heart race, but you quickly looked away, focusing on the conversation at hand, hoping the heat rising to your cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

“you sure?” rick asked, his voice skeptical. “it’s dangerous out there.”

“we’re capable,” you said firmly. “if something happens, we can handle it.” 

daryl watched the exchange, his brow furrowing as he weighed the risks. he knew you were strong, but he also hated the idea of you being out there alone. he couldn’t shake the need to protect you, but he didn’t want to stifle your independence either. 

“i’ll - i’ll be careful, i swear” you added, sensing the tension in the room, especially from daryl.

after the meeting, the group dispersed, but daryl lingered behind, gathering his gear. he overheard rick talking to carol, their voices low and serious. 

“she’s too inexperienced,” rick said, frustration lacing his words. “what if something happens? we can’t afford to lose anyone.”

rick loved you, he really did, as much as everyone else in the group, but he also had a tendency to worry, especially about you. you weren’t new to the group, you’d been with them since the camp, same time as rick. rick had found you limping down the road, a herd of walkers following not far behind you. he’d scooped you up as quick as he could, and since then, he’d always felt rather overprotective of you. your naivety often put him on edge, his worst nightmare would be you ending up in a bad situation because you were often too trusting of others. you didn’t know what kinda guy he could’ve been when he’d picked you up in the middle of the street, but you didn’t struggle at all. he cared for you like a father.

“she’s tougher than you think, rick,” carol replied. “but she’s also got a soft side. you know that. don’t underestimate her.” 

“it’s not that,” rick snapped. “it’s just… i mean she’s irresponsible, she’s - ” 

you walked past them, catching the tail end of the conversation. your heart sank, unsure of what to make of it. you wanted to prove yourself, but hearing rick’s concerns made you doubt your abilities. you ducked into a hallway, hoping to clear your head.

daryl noticed you walking away, and for a moment, he considered following you. he wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay. but then he thought about the conversation with rick, and fear gripped him. he didn’t want to sound like a worried parent, but you were really important to him. 

he took a deep breath and made his decision. he would go on the run with the others, but he would make sure to bring back something special for you. maybe that would lighten your mood.

as the day wore on, the run took longer than expected. they fought off a few walkers and scrounged around for supplies, but daryl’s mind was elsewhere. he kept thinking about you, how you had looked when rick was questioning your abilities. the way your smile faltered, and your confidence seemed to waver. he hated that rick could make you feel small, even if he didn’t mean to. 

when they finally returned, daryl felt a rush of relief to see you sitting in the same spot, sketching in your notebook. the others were busy unpacking supplies, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. your brow was furrowed in concentration, and it made him want to protect that focus, to shield you from any negativity.

“hey,” he said softly, approaching you cautiously. 

you looked up, surprised, and your face lit up with a smile that made his heart skip. “hey, daryl! how was the run?”

“it was alright,” he replied, his gaze flicking to your notebook. “what’re you working on, sweetheart?”

“just a little something,” you said, your cheeks flushing. “nothing special.”

he leaned over, trying to sneak a peek at your drawing. “looks pretty damn special to me.”

you turned the notebook slightly, revealing a sketch of the prison with a sunset in the background. it was beautiful, full of vibrant colours, and it made his heart swell. “y’re real talented, you know that?”

“thanks, daryl.” you replied, a hint of shyness in your tone. “it’s just a hobby.”

“hobbies are important,” he said, feeling bold. “keeps you sane in this crazy world.”

“what about you?” you asked, curious. “do you have any hobbies?”

he scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “hunting, i guess. and, uh, taking care of my bike.” 

“i’d love to see your bike sometime,” you said, your eyes sparkling with interest.

“yeah?” he said, surprised. “i could show you. it’s not much, but it gets me around.” 

“i’m sure it’s more than that,” you replied, smiling softly. 

“here,” he said, shifting the conversation. “um, i got you something.” he pulled out a worn paperback book from his backpack, the edges frayed but the cover intact. “found it on the run. thought you might like it.”

your eyes widened, and you took the book from him gently. “oh daryl, you didn’t have to…”

“i wanted to,” he said, a hint of shyness in his voice too. “thought you could use a new read.”

you opened the book and gasped, looking up at him with a mix of disbelief and joy. “this is one of my favourite authors!”

“really?” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “figured you might like it.” 

you hugged the book to your chest, your eyes brimming with tears. “thank you so much!”

“ain’t no big deal,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the warmth in his cheeks betrayed him. “now don’t you go cryin’ on me.”

you laughed through your tears, and he felt his heart swell. “sorry, i can’t help it. ‘s just really thoughtful of you. you always do nice things for me.” you said, giggling through the tears now streaming down your face. you didn’t really know why you were crying, but you hoped daryl didn’t think too much about it.

“i just think you deserve it,” he replied, shrugging but unable to hide his smile. 

“you’re really sweet,” you said, wiping a tear from your cheek. 

“ain’t sweet,” he teased. “you’re just a damn crybaby.” 

you playfully nudged him, and he chuckled, feeling the tension that had built throughout the day start to dissipate. “you really like it?” he asked, wanting to make sure he hadn’t messed up.

“i love it,” you said sincerely. “and it’s just what i needed. i’ve never read this one before. ‘m gonna start reading it tonight.” 

“good,” he said, his heart racing. “maybe we could, uh, read together sometime.”

“i’d love that,” you replied, your smile brightening even more. 

he was struck by the way you looked at him, your eyes shining with genuine happiness. it made him feel brave, like maybe he could push past the awkwardness. “i mean, if you want to.”

“i definitely do,” you said, your voice soft. 

the two of you stood there, the world around you fading as the moment stretched on. daryl felt a surge of affection that he could no longer contain. he stepped closer, the heat radiating off you making him bold. 

“can i?” he asked, his voice low, leaning in slightly. 

you nodded, and without thinking, he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours. it was soft and tentative at first, but then you melted into him, deepening the kiss. the warmth spread through him, and he felt like he was finally letting go of everything that had held him back.

when you pulled away, breathless, he couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “damn, you really are a crybaby.”

you giggled, a flush spreading across your cheeks. “maybe just a little.”

“well, if you keep bein’ so sweet, i might just have to keep makin’ you cry,” he teased, unable to hide his grin.

“i wouldn’t mind that,” you said, biting your lip, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

“good,” he said, his heart racing. “because i ain’t goin’ anywhere. you’re stuck with me.” 

“i wouldn’t want it any other way,” you replied, feeling a sense of peace settle between you two.

as the night drew closer, the two of you settled into a comfortable rhythm, sharing stories and laughter, the world outside fading away. daryl felt a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t experienced in a long time, and he knew that no matter what came next, he wanted to face it with you by his side.

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[lustkillers]

LOVE & WAR !

PART I. the garden heist.

⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - clyde and you yearned for each other, but poison ivy and spider-man were mortal enemies.

┃ tags/warnings. ࿐ ❪ friends to lovers? yet enemies to lovers? a whole lot of crime fighting violence, fluff, angst, injuries, a whole lot of swearing, clyde/spider-man is a part of the sassy men apocalypse. ooc clyde?? ❫

⊹₊ ⋆ pairing - spider-man!clyde x poison ivy!reader.

⊹₊ ⋆ note - this SUCKS and it was long overdue... might make this a multi-part series! if you do want it to be a multi-part series, please let me know!! requests are open as well :)

[ @cc-luvr , @amandayoungluvr , @insxghtt ]

YOU walked into the now closed botanical garden, your hands gliding on each leaf you passed by, bringing them life.

You had always loved the botanical gardens ever since you were a child. The smell of fresh flowers and the sun shining down through the trees filled you with contentment and peace. Everyone at school had joked that it was your favorite place in the world, but truth be told they weren’t far off.

That was until it went downhill.

After years of neglect, the garden was now overgrown and unkempt. The once thriving trees were swaying lifelessly in the wind, and the place that used to be filled with laughter had become desolate.

But you still loved it all the same. You felt drawn to this place like a moth to a flame. No matter what kind of state it was in, you felt connected.

You made your way through the once-beautiful gardens, trying to ignore all of the signs of neglect and disrepair. You stopped at each flowerbed and examined it carefully, noticing a small patch of forget-me-nots that were still blooming despite the lack of care they had received over the years.

You knelt down and ran your fingertips along the petals of one of the flowers, feeling a strange sense of familiarity. As you did so, a small white butterfly fluttered out from behind one of the other flowerbeds, hovering over you for what felt like forever before flying away.

It seemed like a sign to you - despite how neglected this place was, you knew that it had the potential to be beautiful again.

And you were going to make them pay.

"Hands up where I can see them!" A voice shouted from the darkness, only a bright light flashing at you. You slowly raised your arms, revealing the thicket of rosebuds you had gathered in your hands.

"What do you think you're doing here?" The now revealed officer asked.

You took a deep breath and spoke with confidence, "I'm here to save this garden from neglect."

The man chuckled before raising his gun, "You're trespassing, little lady."

You stood your ground, raising an eyebrow. "If you shoot me, that won't save the garden. Instead, I'm offering to help restore it to its former glory. You can let me do that instead, or else."

"Or else?" The officer leaned into his comm. "We've got an intruder here who claims to be capable of revitalizing this garden." He laughed. "I'm sure the Chief will get a kick out of this, now c'mon. I'm taking you in," he said, coming closer.

"You're not taking me anywhere," you smirked.

Suddenly, vines wrapped around the man, tightly gripping on his ankles and hoisting him upside down. "I need backup!" He yelled. You sneered as you stepped forward. "Who's so little now?" you said, using your abilities to whip each rosebud into full bloom.

"What is this?" The man gasped, awe-struck but frightened by the transformation.

"This is what comes from corrupting and exploiting nature," you replied with a menacing smile.

You glared at the officer as he cowered in front of you. "Now what?" He wheezed.

"Now," You said menacingly, "I'm going to start restoring the garden and you're going to stay out of my way."

"So... Do you grow weed? 'Cause that would be dope!" A new voice echoed through the garden, making you whip your head around towards the officer. However, no one was there.

You turned back, only being met with Spider-Man. "Hey Plant Girl," he said casually, hanging from above. You groaned, not to happy that Spider-Man had showed up and interrupted your revenge. You knew that would never work out in your favor.

"Oh great, it's you," You spat. "I suppose you've come to save the day."

Spider-Man then replied with a sly smirk, "It's what I do best." He quickly swung himself closer and closer towards you until he was face-to-face.

“Hey, is that actual plants as your suit? That’s sick!”

You frowned. “It’s not a suit. It’s part of my abilities, and it's none of your business!”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, no need to get snippy! I was just wondering is all!”

His expression now turned serious as he continued on, "But if I were you, I'd think twice about taking on an enemy like me," He crossed his arms.

You scoff, "And why's that?"

He said simply, "Because I'm not someone you want to mess with."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress the smirk that was forming on your lips. "Is that supposed to intimidate me? Cause it's not really working," You crossed your arms and prepared for a fight.

"Did it work?" He smirked under his mask, raising an eyebrow.

You shook your head in disbelief and prepared to fight back. "Not even close," you said, scoffing.

You closed your fist, sharp tree branch jabbing him. He barely had time to react, as he quickly jumped back. You had hit him hard and you knew it, a satisfied smile creeping upon your lips.

He slowly shook his head and glared at you with confusion. "What did I do to deserve that?" He asked, pursing his lips together.

You rolled your eyes with a hint of amusement, "Are you serious?" You smirked, "You knew who I was and yet you still came here looking for a fight. What did you expect?" You mockingly laugh.

He shook his head, "I didn't come here to fight. I came here to protect the citizens."

You laughed again, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth. "Yeah right!" You scoffed and then pointed your finger at him menacingly.

"I don't need protecting, and I will do whatever it takes to protect myself and these plants!" You roared before launching yourself towards him in an attempt to hit him with your vines as he attempted to dodge out of the way.

He dodged your attack, flipping out of the way and landing on his feet. You barely had time to react before he charged towards you, a look of determination in his eyes. He punched you in the face and then kicked your stomach with enough force to make you stumble back.

"You're not getting away that easily," he said firmly as both of you continued to fight.

You and Spider-Man fought tirelessly, neither one of you ready to back down. You used your powers against him while he used his agility and strength against you. Despite all your best efforts, it seemed like he had the upper hand--that is until you finally managed to wrap some of your vines around his legs and trap him in place.

"I think we both know who the real winner is here," you said smugly as Spider-Man struggled to free himself from the vines.

"Game over." His hand extended, shooting a web towards your hands. The web covered your hands, trapping them and immobilizing you, your control over the plants letting both him and the officer go.

He gave you a couple blows, the last hit being at your face. With that hit alone, your mask fell off your face. You looked up and there he was, staring at you intently.

He knew who you were. And he knew your name.

"Y-You..." He said slowly, recognition filling his eyes.

You felt vulnerable, but yet a part of you felt some familiarity with the masked hero.

"So what now, Spider-Man?" you asked, a smirk beginning to appear on your face. You still hadn't moved from the spot and he had made no move to escort you away or handcuff you. It felt like there was something much more behind this whole exchange than just a battle between two enemies.

He was caught off guard, still staring at you with his hand gripping your outfit. Finally, he let go and stepped back.

"You give me your word that you won't cause any more destruction to the city, and I'll let you go," he said simply, crossing his arms against his chest.

You tilted your head, "Can't promise you that, Spidey." You smirked, flicking your wrist and tying him up with the vines again, now walking away.

Clyde watched as you walked away, his heart still beating faster. His crush was Poison Ivy.

"Shit."

[young-kanade-yoisaki-archived]

i really love music and flowers! especially carnations. they’re my mom’s favorites!

# ABOUT ME

• hi, my name's moth! i'm 17, and i go by they/them and it/its pronouns - with a preference for it/its!!

• my main is @viemarin!

• my timezone is GMT, and i'm at school between 8am and 6pm! i won't be as active then. i’m currently on break for two weeks, though~

• i’m also behind the following accounts: - @kanade-yoisaki-official - @nightcord-kaito-official - @idol-emu-otori-official - @idol-mafuyu-asahina-official - @starlight-evermore-official - @lonely-syndrome-official - @moth-the-hater-unofficial - @chikafuji-shiori-official

# NOTES

• i hc that kanade uses she/they pronouns in the future, but she’s a child right now so - she/her solely!

• this is the kanade as seen in the carnation recollection flashback! so when her mother was still alive.

• undiagnosed autism for sure…

• be mean to the child and i’m killing you /hj

• profile picture by paraffin!!

# RULES

respect them or i’m killing you (and by that, i mean that i’ll be ignoring / blocking you with no hesitation)

• don't be homophobic, transphobic or any -ic because i won't be tolerating it. go away and leave me alone.

• also, um. don’t slurs around me - even if you can reclaim them. i think they’re gross, and i don’t want to see them.

• anything with // is ooc!!

• i do need tone indicators - mostly /joking and /serious. ​ i'm autistic and i might not always understand everything, but please be patient.

• obviously, no NSFW.

# TAGS

kanade says ← posts that are ic

// ooc ← posts that are ooc

tw / (something) ← whatever deserves a trigger warning

i might add more stuff if i need to!!

[kanade-yoisaki-official-archived]

my name is kanade — composer for nightcord @ 25. i hope we’ll get along.

the following is ooc! layout by yumeross.

# MY HEADCANONS

• autistic. their special interests are music, obviously, but also flowers — their favorites are carnations!

• she/they prns agender kanade is real to me. kanade is currently having a gender crisis and is trying out he/him prns ^_^

• kanamafu world domination <33

• kanade tenma!

# ABOUT ME

• hi, my name’s moth! i’m 17. i go by it/its, as well as various other neopronouns which you can find here.

• my timezone is GMT, and i'm at school between 8am and 6pm! i won't be as active then.

• my main is @viemarin or @lacehrted. feel free to follow either, or both — i don’t mind it at all.

• i’m also behind the following accounts: - @nightcord-kaito-official - @idol-emu-otori-official - @idol-mafuyu-asahina-official - @starlight-evermore-official - @lonely-syndrome-official - @moth-the-hater-unofficial - @chikafuji-shiori-official - @young-kanade-yoisaki - @human-miku-official

# RULES

• don't be homophobic, transphobic or any -ic because i won't be tolerating it. go away and leave me alone. don’t use slurs around me. they’re gross, and i don’t want to see them.

• anything with // is ooc!

• i do need tone indicators — mostly /joking or /serious. because i am autistic, there might be times where i don’t understand you. please be patient with me!

• anon hate for the little miss is always appreciated <3

# TAGS

🎵 - kanade speaks; . . . posts that are ic

// ooc . . . posts that are ooc

cw / kanamafu . . . for any interaction between kanade and mafuyu

[boom-bakugou]

‘Wedding Crashers’ - Katsuki Bakugou

A/N: Sorry for my inactivity but here’s a little sorry and thank you present for me hitting 1k! I love you all sm <3

Pairings: Pro Hero!Bakugou x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, ooc deku; but it’s more of a headcanon, semi-public sex

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend Izuku Midoriya inviting you to his wedding is a definite stab in yours and Katsuki Bakugou’s backs. But you’ll show him.

Word Count: 5k

masterlist

You had considered your morning to be relatively normal, breakfast not burnt, coffee just that right amount of bitter to stir you awake. But those happy moments of peaceful bliss were soon to be fleeting as your mail arrived. Sifting through the pile to what you assumed would be bank statements and bills; your fingers landed on a cream white envelope. Your name printed neatly in a cursive font that when you followed it with your eyes for too long it almost made you want to puke. Tearing it open haphazardly, you read the perfumed content inside.

‘Dear Y/N Y/LN,

We are very proud to invite you to the blah blah blah wedding of pro hero blah blah Izuku Midoriya and blah blah blah.

RSVP blah-‘

Wait what? The taste in your mouth was pitiful. Yes, you and Izuku had dated years prior and after being childhood friends, yet it didn’t end… swimmingly. But this didn’t feel like inviting a childhood friend to your happiest day, no, this felt like a backhanded swipe at your ex-girlfriend who was well known to the media to be single. Pro-Hero gossip magazines made sure of that.

Throwing the invitation onto your countertop, your eyebrows furrowed with spite. You felt weak almost, watching your ex-best friend grow up to be this bountiful hero with merch in every store that you went to. Though you had triumphed well in the hero charts yourself, nothing ever seemed to compare to him. The golden boy. You never really got over the fact that he ended things because being a single hero was more postable than one who was tied down. Until now. Mr. Big shot getting married. It really made you question your integrity,

Recuperating your thoughts, you realised your phone was buzzing on the couch next to you. Checking to see the influx of text messages, you saw Katsuki Bakugou’s name fill up your lockscreen with notifications.

Bakugou: tell me you got the stupid fuckin invite too

Bakugou: the nerve that nerd still fuckin has

Bakugou: inviting his childhood ‘friends’ after all this time

Bakugou: tch, one big publicity stunt if you ask me

You chuckle as you scroll through the messages, gladly knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling this way.

Y/N: so what’re we going to do about it?

Bakugou: what do you mean?

Y/N: well we can’t show him up at his own wedding but we can sure stir something of our own

Bakugou: well that idiot is marrying some nobody extra

Bakugou: probably to show how ‘great’ he is

Bakugou: so how about if two top pro heroes rsvp’d together?

Y/N: you mean us?

Bakugou: no, midnight and grape juice. of course us you idiot

The idea brewed in your head for a moment. Izuku had always been nice when he was younger, and Katsuki hadn’t exactly been the nicest towards him in return. You were always the mediator in those situations. However when Deku grew and grew in the hero charts he started to lose touch with reality. Not really remembering what being a hero was about besides having his face stuck on a lunch box and raking in the dough for it. It was sad. You didn’t know who he was anymore.

Y/N: fuck it, i’m in

-

“You know, don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tux before.” You chuckle, arm linked around Bakugou’s as you stepped out of the chauffeured car together. You were here to make a scene. Paparazzi glistened everywhere like a moth to a candle flame. You couldn’t wait for the tabloids in all honesty.

“Shut up.” Bakugou grumbled, almost in embarrassment. But his smile didn’t show a hint of it. “Not looking too bad yourself.”

You had coordinated well. Your maroon dress flowed in the gentle summer breeze and matched perfectly to Bakugou’s equally coloured tux. You two were such a pair it was nigh impossible to not think that you two were together today. And the paparazzi made sure of that indefinitely.

You couldn’t lie about how the service was beautiful, because it was. However you didn’t need to hear the shutter clicks of a camera go off every few words they spoke. It was distracting, and you and Bakugou shared a glance each time it occurred. Stifling a giggle, you hoped no camera would pick that up. Even if they did, they’d probably pin it to ‘look at these other heroes wishing that they were the next to get married!’ they’d eat that shit uplike ambrosia.

“Can’t wait to see the reception.” You mumbled towards Bakugou, your plastic smiles never fading for the cameras. Izuku making a show of himself and his new bride.

Watching him was almost bittersweet. The happy memories of you three as children flashing behind your eyes. Now replaced with a fame hungry number one hero. Where had all the time gone?

“What’s got you so perplexed?” Katsuki asked, filtering your way through the crowd, making your way to the cars that would deliver you all to the reception.

“Just-“ You sigh, allowing the cover of other heroes to hide you from the all seeing eyes of the paparazzi. “I miss him, y’know? Miss how we used to be.”

“Tch.” Bakugou didn’t care about the scowl present on his face, your words ate him up like some sort of bacteria. “Thought you said that he was the most selfish guy you’d ever dated?”

“He was but like-” You watched Izuku’s back as he held his new partner’s hand. Waving to the cameras and not watching her, as lovely as she looked in her wedding gown. “As weird as it sounds, I sometimes miss high school.”

Bakugou’s eyes scanned your face, following your eyesight to Midoriya. Fucking extra. The thoughts swam around his head, polluting his mind. He knew Izuku’s break up with you had been a massive toll on your mental health and your ego. He made you think that you weren’t good enough for him, and Bakugou never got over that fact. How could he pass up on you for anything else?

Breaking apart from the conglomerative of wedding-goers, Bakugou lead you to one of the specially hired cars to take the guests to the reception. Despite Bakugou’s abrasive and rough nature, you couldn’t help but notice how delicately he held your hand. Not tugging you along or haphazardly grabbing you by your wrist, making you follow him. No, his fingers interlaced with yours and you felt the coarseness of his palms due to the explosive nature of his quirk.

“Katsu?”

“Hm?”

“You can let go of my hand now, we’re in the car.”

“Yeah- whatever.”

Catching up in the car, you both realise how little time you have to actually spend with each other. Though you and Bakugou communicate 1000 times more than you do with Midoriya, heroing keeps you both busy. No times like these to goof off and be with each other. You missed it, you missed your hot-headed idiot friend.

“Hope there’s less fuckin’ paparazzi here. Think I’m gonna go blind with those extras pointing them in my face.” Bakugou rolled down the tinted window a smidge to watch as the car drove into an old looking manor hall where guests had already begun to arrive.

Flowers decorated the ground and just as you two got your hopes up, you saw a line of paparazzi at each side of the staircase leading to the double-doored entrance.

“Well, it was worth a try.” You remark to him, patting his back as you chuckled to him.

Bakugou was the first to exit, standing beside the door so he could reach for your hand to help you out while you fixed your dress. Just as the two of you began to reach for each other's arms to walk into the reception together; there was a brusque tug to your dress. Upon further inspection, a member of the shutterbugs had stood on a long section of your dress. Allowing himself to get pictures of it stretched out and flowy.

“Hey!” Bakugou didn’t waste time on pushing him off the tail end of the dress. “Try anything funny like that again with my girl and say goodbye to that shitty camera of yours!”

The man nodded, slowly letting his camera hang loose on his neck. The rest of the cameramen easily caught the scene but you both couldn’t care less. What’s a wedding without a little drama?

“Thanks Katsuki.” You note with a soft smile.

Bakugou’s hand tenderly makes its way around the small of your back until his arm is holding you close to him as you walk inside. His hand sitting in a caring way at your hip to assure that nothing could come between you both. You could not wait for the media to plaster this fake-ness on every outlet that they could! However, you liked the thought of relishing in the attention right now.

Once the dining festivities had come and gone. It was time for their first dance. Watching as he held her under the blue lighting had your heart hurting slightly. The thought that that could’ve been you. But Bakugou was right. He’s probably marrying some quirkless nobody not only to make himself look better, but being with another hero is messy. You both had media eyes on you; but… you couldn’t help but wonder how different your life would be like if Midoriya was how he used to be.

You didn’t even notice Bakugou’s eyes on you the whole time. Not wanting to waste a second of his eyesight on the show Izuku was putting on. You were a sight of your own. How could you not see that you deserved someone better? Someone like him. You always spoke about how everyone was under a facade when supporting Deku, but you never correlated that to yourself.

After a short while, others began to join in on the large dance floor. Perfectly spacious for all the famous faces and their egos. Bakugou’s hand traced down your arm until his hand clasped with yours, gently leading you to the floor yourselves.

“What’re you doing?”

“Come on, who’s to say we can’t have some fun too huh?”

Smiling at him, you followed his lead. His hand occupying your waist before pulling you in closer to his chest. Flowing with the music, you couldn’t help the cheesy smile on your face; nor the one that spread to Bakugou’s.

“Why’s no one ever tied down Mr. Ground Zero then?” Your question takes Bakugou by surprise, showing a small blip in your combined graceful swaying to the music.

“No ones good enough.” Such a Bakugou answer.

“You’re sounding like Izuku, but he probably got that from the old you.” You jested, earning an eye roll from Bakugou. “I’m being serious! Come on you can tell me.”

It takes him a moment to figure out an answer, so much so that he doesn’t focus on dancing anymore. He just stands there holding you before locking eyes again.

“Just haven’t found the right person to deal with my bullshit I guess.”

There’s a beat of silence and your eyes search his face for answers. You didn’t even realise how close you were to him. His breath fanning your face, the smell of oak and fire and burning sweetness engulfed your senses. You also didn’t realise how the two of you sank closer and closer into one another.

“Hey Kacchan, mind if I steal her from you?”

Izuku’s voice almost sends you two flying away from each other like same sides of a magnet.

“Ask her yourself she’s not mine.” You turn from Bakugou to give a friendly smile to Midoriya, allowing your hand to rest in his. “I’ll be at the bar. Free drinks and all.”

His answers are short, curt. Yet before you can ask him if he’s alright Deku spins you and begins to dance with you in his arms at the tempo of the new music track that’s playing.

“Long time no see Y/N!” His manner has always been so chipper, despite the facade of it all. Though Bakugou and you went there to purposefully to cause discourse; you don’t think you have it in you to be mean to Izuku’s face.

“Yeah, look at you! Married man now, must be scary.” You chuckle, almost nervously. It was like speaking to a stranger.

“Well I guess I’ll find out! But come on that’s been the subject of the whole day! I wanna know about you and Kacchan.” You felt like Bakugou right now, the old nickname boiling your blood as it did his. There was no doubt Izuku took influence from Bakugou and his fiery personality; but he took it in all the wrong ways. Using confidence to become cold, uncaring.

“Oh- haha, Katsuki and I aren’t-“

“Y/N. Don’t lie to me! I can see the way he’s burning holes in my tux from over here.”

Turning you to the music so you could face where Katsuki was standing, you peaked behind Midoriya’s arm to see Bakugou with an all too familiar scowl on his face. Chasing down a beverage in a crystalline glass in one easy gulp.

“If you ask me Midoriya he’s always looked at you that way.” You laugh your statement off but you meant it with malice.

“Midoriya? Feeling formal today are we Y/N?” He had completely lost touch of who he used to be. “I used to look at you like that when I saw you with other guys, I know what that look is.”

His comment stops you dead in your tracks, not allowing for him to swing you to and fro to the music.

“Actually Midoriya I don’t even remember you looking me with jealous intent other than when I was higher than you on the hero charts.” Shaking yourself free from his towering position on you, you stormed off to the patio doors, letting yourself be eaten by the oncoming darkness of night.

Crying at your ex’s wedding. Not something you’d think you’d ever do in your lifetime but here you were. Thankfully you couldn’t see any reporters or such outside so for now, it was just you and your tears. Maybe you were too harsh on him? You used to be friends right? What happened to that kid who wanted to be a hero who you looked up to? What happened to the boyfriend you had who kissed you goodnight and ignored you when your face was on the TV more than him or snapped at you when he was announced lower than you and broke up with you because ‘heroes dating are messy!’ No. Bakugou was right. He was a self-righteous bastard now.

“Y/N?”

You half expected Midoriya to come out after you but he was probably entertaining other guests. Luckily, as you turned you saw Bakugou standing outside with you, signature hands in his pockets with a dumb, sympathetic smirk on his face.

“Hey.”

“I promise I didn’t punch that asshole at his own wedding but I can tell you he got a fuckin’ earful from me. Hope the paps got a good pic.” His tone was joking but it hadn’t cracked a smile from you yet.

“S’alright. Wouldn’t give two shits if you did.” You sniffled, collecting mascara tears on your fingers and wiping them on the decorative concrete bannisters of the balcony. “Shouldn’t’ve fucking come. This was stupid I have too much baggage for this shit.”

You turned away from him, allowing yourself to lean out on the barrier, looking into the distance on the warm night. You could hear Bakugou give a small sigh before his arms snuck around your waist, pulling your back into his chest before placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

“That fuckin’ idiot didn’t know what he lost and it’s my fault for influencin’ him.” The pain in his voice was evident. Did Bakugou blame himself for the hurt Midoriya caused you?

“Katsu-“

“No. That extra is so blinded by the shit everyone has to say that he’s forgotten what real life is. Doesn’t care about his stupid fans or his friends or the best most understanding girl in the whole fucking world. A girl I know does the best for everyone no matter what her own situation is.” You turn around to face him, not wanting to leave his embrace. “Y/N. No matter how much I’ve always wanted to fuckin’ win I’ve just wanted the best for you. And when that bastard did what he did to you- I- fuck. You look at him, like you’re waiting for him to just notice you; but every time I see you it’s like I’m seeing you set the stars in the sky every fuckin night. You just- you’re fuckin’ everything to me Y/N.”

It was completely silent on the balcony besides the low thump of the music from indoors, but it was deafening. But it all faded when his lips attached to yours. It was so clear. All that pining over Midoriya when he was just copying the one who actually saw you for who you were. He even copied Bakugou’s crush on you, most likely to make him jealous. But your mind had no time to think of that when all you could feel was Bakugou.

It was like you had never been kissed before, never felt the love and sensuality behind it. Soft and moist but breathy and warm. For once Bakugou didn’t wish to win a battle, he wanted unity and to be together with you. His hands danced over the delicate curves of you in your dress; taking in every inch of your perfect body. The gasp that fell from your mouth was perfect entrance for Bakugou’s tongue to mingle with yours. The sparks hot and electric between you both was like liquid lightning.

Just as your hands found home in his hair, you heard the all too familiar sound of today of a photo being taken. Bakugou is the first to break the kiss to find the intruder of your special moment. Your lips already feel blushed and bruised but your heart was nearly pounding out your chest.

“Fuckin’ print that in your gossip magazine you extra!” Bakugou couldn’t help but heartily laugh at the man as he shook with worry after catching the intimate moment. He wanted to show you off. He wasn’t ashamed that his lips had captured you to be his.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.” He whispers into your ear and you eagerly nod, grasping his one hand with your two as the both of you manouvered your way through the wedding guests until you finally found a small closet down a hallway where no one from the party had entered.

Slamming the door shut behind you, your eyes drank in Bakugou’s frame. How had you missed that small boy you once knew had now become this beefy, beautiful man? Who was looking at you with the same awe and intent? Bakugou cornered you against the door of the supply closet, latching his lips together with yours once again as if he was scared he’d never be able to taste you again.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect.” Katsuki’s lips mashed with yours as his hands slid up your dress, the coarseness of his fingers against your soft skin sending shivers down your spine.

All those years of being a hero really showed on Bakugou, he lifted you with ease as your fingers traced scars on the back of his neck; holding on for support. His hips pin you against the door and you feel his cock hardening between the fabric of your underwear and his suit pants, you can’t help the whimper escaping your lips at the friction of him.

Bakugou’s hands slip under the straps of your dress, letting them fall delicately to your sides as his lips ensnare yours. His grunts and your whimpers enough to make any passerby know what was going on in the confined space of the closet. His fingers glide beneath the dress which allowed it to fall further as Bakugou felt the weight of your breasts in his palms.

“God you’re fucking everything princess.” His fingers slide beneath the lacy fabric to thumb your nipples, perking and tugging it with his forefinger.

Breaking the kiss, his head lowers to encapsulate the bud in his mouth. Gently suckling it before rolling it feverishly between his teeth. Your hands snaking through his hair only spurring the assault on your supple flesh. Biting your lip to stop the obvious moans that were threatening to spill out of your mouth. You swore you could see stars as his tongue flicked against the pointed nub- sending your nerves wild.

“Bet that fucking extra never treated you like this baby.” He matched your height, his gaze never leaving your own as he took both of your tits out of your bra; kneading the flesh and buds of your nipples as he spoke. “Just wanted to get himself off, I know how to fuckin’ treat you right.”

“Then do it… Kacchan.” You spoke with such gusto in your breathy state, knowing that the old nickname would make him see red. And god did it send him feral.

His body pressed you further into the door, even if it felt like he couldn’t. The aching feel of his cock rubbing against your clothed core made you mewl in want of him. His fingers slid beneath the hem of your dress and made little pricking motions into your inner thighs until he traced a slit over your panties.

“Shit you’re fucking wet.” The pads of his fingers kneading against where you wanted him most, a chuckle falling his lips as your hips did their best to try and get any sort of relief.

“Katsuki please- please fuck oh my god-“ Your neck craned back as you felt your body take control. The low growl in Bakugou’s throat at the sight of you barely touched and already begging for him.

Tracing his fingers along your décolletage he stopped when he met your parted lips before roughly shoving his fingers in your mouth, pressing down the body of your tongue.

“Please please please-“ Katsuki mocked. “Please what princess? Better use your fuckin’ words or else.”

An insufferable smirk played upon his lips as he felt your cunt clench around nothing at his dirty words. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he wiped the remnants of your spit across your tits; awaiting for your response.

“Fuck me Katsuki- please you’re all I want. God you’re all I need.” Although said in your aroused state. You meant it- and he knew that.

Not wasting any more of the precious time you two had before you were inevitably found out considering your blatant disregard for being quiet; Bakugou used his hand to tug off his belt. Nearly setting his suit pants on fire as his quirk crackled in anticipation for you.

Your body clung to Bakugou’s for support, his whole body easily keeping your pinned high between himself and the door. Once his lower half was sufficiently stripped, it was easy enough for him to rip the sides of your underwear off.

“Katsu-“

“Shut up.”

Not wanting to disagree; you did. Hips bucking against nothing as the cool air prickled at your hot cunt. Bakugou held his manhood in his hand, rubbing the head of it in your slick and providing stimulation to your clit. Your thighs tightening around his waist like a vice grip at the well needed attention.

“You’re fuckin’ soaking baby. So needy.” Bakugou mumbled against your neck, allowing himself and you to get off momentarily at the friction. You could only nod to his words which were making you more and more wet for him. He was such a tease.

“Come on princess. Tell me you want my cock. Tell me.” His voice growled as he repeated himself, leaving marks upon your nape that would surely bruise because of his harsh bites and sucklings.

“Katsuki I need you- only you. Only you.” Your repetition is barely a whisper but he heard it, and despite his rough nature Bakugou confines your lips in a kiss as he sheaths himself inside of you.

Taking a few slow thrusts to allow yourself to adapt to his size, it’s only a moment before Bakugou completely bottoms out inside of you. He watches your face shiver in pleasure which he mirrors. He clasps your hips so firmly his knuckles turn white; it didn’t even hurt as all you could focus on was him inside you. Your hands find their way to his biceps, gripping on for some tension relief and you could still feel his muscles flex even beneath his suede blazer and the shirt.

“What a good fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this.” Bakugou’s voice is a low growl as he thrusts into you, the sounds of your clothes brushing against one another and the slaps of your skin interacting was like a sinful symphony.

The smell of caramel danced in your brain as Bakugou worked up a sweat absolutely pummeling himself into your sex. You grasped onto him as if your life depended on it, moaning into his neck as his cock slid in and out of you. You didn’t even know how much time was passing as he rutted himself into you relentlessly- yet as you both came to your highs, you could both barely move from the thrill of it all.

Steadying your breaths back to a regular pace; Bakugou slid you down from where he had pinned you against the door and let you fix yourself as he then did himself. You sorted your dress and pulled any tugs from your hair when he had pulled it before slapping Bakugou’s arm.

“You dick! You ripped my underwear!”

“Hot.” He chuckled, fixing his belt loops and stuffing the ripped panties into his pocket.

“Not funny! I’m not parading about with no underwear on!”

“We’re getting the fuck out of this extras stupid wedding. You can wear my clothes at my place.” Suitably sorted and not looking like you had just had the brains fucked out of you in a closet (despite the reddening bites and bruises that were now appearing on your neck), Bakugou held you close. Yet instead of taking the corridor to the exit, he was leading you back to the main dance hall.

“Where’re we going?” You hashly whispered to Bakugou, your thighs still wet from your slick and the cool air against your unclothed pussy making you heat up from embarrassment.

“Gots to do one thing before we go.” There’s a shit eating grin on his face, you couldn't help but wonder what on earth he was planning now.

Midoriya stood talking to other heroes all dressed in their formal attire and Bakugou (with no consideration of their conversation) roughly tapped his shoulder to get his immediate attention. His arm around your waist was so tight but being see with Bakugou like this made you feel almost proud.

“We’re just heading off.” Bakugou had replaced his smile for his usual scowl, something he had always looked at Izuku with.

“Going so soon? It’ll be a shame you guys!” Izuku’s voice was plastered in falsehood. He probably regretted trying to gloat over you two. Bakugou held out his hand for Midoriya to shake it, your brows furrowed on what was obviously a stepping stone to Bakugou’s plan.

“I know I might not be better at you right now in the hero charts.”

Uh oh.

“I’m glad you’ve finally come to recognise that Kaccha-“

“But I am better at you at something for sure.”

Bakugou used Midoriya’s hand in his to pull him closer, readying himself to whisper in his ear.

“Cause I just fucked the shit out of your ex-girlfriend and I know you never made her come as hard as I did.”

Your face burned with the heat of a million suns, but the glower on Izuku’s face was priceless. And you couldn’t help but see the flash of a camera capture the moment as Bakugou’s hand fell from his and slipped once again around your waist.

[dreadhaus-literature]

“Sugar Bound in Straw.”

Typically I like to just dive right into stories, let them speak for themselves, but I feel like I need to talk about a couple things with this one before we do that. P:

Because I don’t know the subject of the story very well--at all, actually--but I had a super awesome nightmare (lmao I know but just bear with me) about Monica and I being trapped in the Silent Hills P.T. hallway and though I was terrified in-dream, when I woke up I was so excited to have been there and to have seen Lisa even though it was terrifying. And I wanted to capture that feeling, that rush of excitement that follows fear and being scared and though I’m still getting my feet wet with DC, I know there’s someone who could capture what I’m looking for, who has that unique relationship with fear.

So please forgive me if he’s OOC, and please keep in mind this is an AU based on the legend of the Scarecrow monster itself, a spin on the lore.

And I really hope you like it! (*ﾉωﾉ)

- -

“And when the fear consumes you, Death protects you...”

For as long as she could remember, he had always been there.

Superstition runs deep in the Alcari family and one thing that binds superstition like rope is tradition. The Patriarch of the Family was not one to trifle with the supernatural, the paranormal, the occult and when the family land had come with a protector that spanned generations he kept up the tradition of paying tribute in return for said protection. Some years it was gold, others silver, others still it was in silken cloth, all manner of treasure laid at the silent boots of the Man of Straw that hung like a savior upon a cross at the entrance of the Alcari property.

In exchange, the family land became sacred, never trespassed upon, never laid siege by enemies of the notorious, infamous crime family. Many tried, sneaking past property lines in the dead of night, only for blood-stained patches of land to be discovered under the burning sun the following morning. No one trespassed upon the property because he would not allow such transgressions against those he called his own.

This ritual of tribute and protection continued for decades until one frigid December, the Patriarch went to lay a basket of glittering jewels at the Scarecrow’s feet--

--And he spoke.

“Take your jewels. Keep them. What I want will be here by month’s end...and when the time is right, like a piece of ripened fruit...she will be claimed.” The Scarecrow’s glowing, sharp-toothed maw spilled the words with an ethereal, hollow ring to the baritone bubbling up from his throat like a cauldron. “Then and only then will you or yours never need to present me with offerings, for the debt will be forever repaid.”

The Patriarch was silent as he stood, basket of jewels in hand, only momentarily confused by the Scarecrow’s words--but his daughter-in-law was pregnant, due in a few short weeks, and the Patriarch knew then what the monster wanted.

Monica was born on December 29th, attended by Family doctors in the safety of the Alcari estate, surrounded by her loved ones...and watched from the window by the Scarecrow.

It was more beautiful than he’d imagined, her entrance into the world. How many centuries had he hung from his post, stalked and protected these lands, waiting for the moment she would come to him? Finally...finally she was here, and the sound of her infant cries were a soothing balm to a gaping hole that seared across his sinewy, cloth-covered chest. Feral glowing eyes missed not a moment of her first night on this Earth, moving like living shadow from window to window as she was bathed and swaddled, fed and attended to by loving, careful hands. His own long, spindly fingers scraped like knife tips against the windows as he moved, seeming like a predator in a cage so close to prey he was near salivating for.

When Monica was left to her crib for the night, only then did those long, seeking fingers part the window and allowed him entry to the protected estate. He filled her room with his presence, that oddly entrancing aroma of burning firewood and heat, the dusty musk of straw and primal fear. His towering body, honed from years of killing, protecting, shuddered with need and want--to be so close to her, to finally be able to see her, touch her, be near what he had been so lacking all these years was nearly his undoing.

His beloved didn’t cry. Angel that she was, she merely blinked up at him with curious green eyes. So tiny, so fragile, so breakable--the Scarecrow felt his body draw taut like an arrow, the fire behind the hollows of his eyes surging, roaring to life at the overwhelming urge he felt to protect her and keep her safe for the eternity their lives would be together. Tremendous strength checked but only just, the Scarecrow lowered his hand into her crib, his long index finger offered to her and when her petite fingers wrapped around his, the Scarecrow knew then that nothing would ever keep them apart.

The Scarecrow visited his beloved nightly, drawn down off his sentry post like moth to flame to watch her grow like a flower under his protective, watchful gaze. When her little legs began to support her, he would find Monica standing and holding onto her crib, reaching for him when he came through her window. So many cowered before him, slaves to his fear, but she met him with open, eager little hands and the Scarecrow was beside himself at the feeling of being wanted, needed, by so little a creature. He would take her into his arms, arms strong enough to splinter and crush bone to dust and she would make him soft, downy like a bed of straw, falling asleep bundled against the fire and brimstone chest that kept her and her family safe.

When Monica began to talk, he taught her his name.

“Jonathan.”

To the world he was Scarecrow, a fearsome protector, but to her he was simply--

“Jonathan.”

Her protector. Her Scarecrow.

As the seasons changed and years passed, Scarecrow watched his flower bloom into a young woman strong enough to lead her family--but soft enough to hold his heart.

During the daylight hours he stood silent and still at the gates of her home but as the sun sank beneath the horizon he came alive, burning from the inside out with a possessive love that renewed his vow to never allow harm to befall this land and his family.

This night she was waiting for him on the steps, darkness a beautiful compliment to the kiss of color against velvet, unblemished skin as she watched his approach. His footsteps were thunderous with their purpose, their intent to reach what was his and rightfully so.

“You have no idea what it does to me, beloved, to see you waiting for me like this.”

Monica felt the butterflies take wing in her belly, winding up her rib cage as Jonathan’s boots hit the polished steps and he reached for her. Even three steps beneath her he was tall enough to meet her gaze evenly and as she slipped her hand in his, his long fingers enveloped hers, his masked lips against her forehead.

“I-I missed you, today.”

Jonathan moved her petite hand to his chest, allowed her to feel the rumble beneath mauve flesh and sinew as his other hand cupped the back of her head, keeping her close. “And I have missed you.”

It was a ritual exchange of words, started by Jonathan when she was very small, very young--for though he was never apart from her, any space between them was unbearable for him and led him to often speak of missing her. Now that she was growing, blossoming under his watchful, possessive gaze, she mirrored his words with the same intensity because she knew no other love than what he showered her with. There could never, would never be another for Monica for her Scarecrow was not a man to share.

She was, and always will be, his.

“Welcome me into our home, beloved. I burn with need of you.”

Monica swallowed thickly, moving to do as Jonathan asked, but his grip tightened and she was not allowed from his arms. Instead, he slipped one arm beneath her knees, the other curved along her petite back and up the steps he carried her--this man of legend, of waking, living nightmares, cradling the most precious of treasures in his protective arms.

Superstition, that gives way to tradition, paves the way for ritual and the nightly ritual of Jonathan’s claim of his bride was becoming old as time itself.

“I have loved you from the moment you were born,” he says the words every night as he crosses the threshold, “and I will forever fear the day I can’t love you anymore.”

It was the one thing on this Earth the Scarecrow feared--her mortality.

“I-I’ll always be here, Jon,” Monica soothed the fear the same way she always did, her head upon his chest.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

For as long as he needed, she would always be here.

[milkhakyeon]

my heart is still remembering [7kpp day 2; sacrifice]

title: my heart is still remembering

pairing: jasper-centric, kade/jasper

rating: g

summary: it starts to dawn on him that maybe he’s been sacrificing the wrong thing.

a/n: apologies for the super late post! real life has been a pain lately ;-; anyway here's my first 7kpp fic! i only started playing the game three weeks ago so i apologise if they're ooc (i'm taking artistic license with their teenage selves though bc pRECIOUS CHILDREN ;A;)

one of the good things about being a butler, jasper thinks, is that he gets to observe.

he has always liked watching from the sidelines, catching the uncertain waver at the tail end of a sentence or the nervous quiver of a finger. the split second of vulnerability in someone’s eyes. things that no one but him sees.

it is what he is supposed to do, after all. it is his duty, his path, his purpose.

but there are…times. times he wonders why he does the things he does.

times like today.

he gazes at the necklace, lying forgotten at the far end of his drawer.

no, perhaps forgotten isn’t the right word to use. after all, he’d hadn’t been able to truly forget about it. he hates to admit it, but he’d been pushing it as far away from him as he could. but as hard as he’d tried, it hadn’t worked, not really. not when his heart isn’t so easily deceived.

tentatively, he picks the necklace up, fingers brushing over the glass locket. save for the dust that’s settled in a thin film, it’s exactly as he remembers.

maybe that’s the thing. he can try his hardest to block his mind, to force himself not to recall the memories by force of sheer willpower. he’s trained his self-discipline enough that he doesn’t think of him anymore, not unless absolutely necessary. but he can’t control his heart. can’t stop it from twisting painfully when he sees things that used to be special to them. can’t stop it from being drawn to him like a moth to a flame, even as it knows the dangers of playing with fire.

even now, his heart is still remembering.

“found you, kae!”

at six years old, his lips are still unable to enunciate his best friend’s name properly, the word tapering off in a triumphant lilt instead. he’s always been better at hiding than seeking, so victory as a seeker is always extra sweet.

kade shushes him, eye still glued to the tiny crack in between wood panels. jasper pouts, and crouches down next to his best friend.

“what are you looking at?”

kade motions for him to come closer, moving away from the peephole so jasper can see what he’s been staring at.

“do you see it?” kade whispers, voice quick and eager.

jasper’s about to shake his head when a tall, slender girl steps out of a room, dressed in a off-shoulder chiffon gown and heels so high jasper has no idea how anyone can balance in them, much less walk a few steps.

jasper turns to face kade, blinking quizzically. “who is she?”

“doesn’t matter. look behind her.”

jasper peers through the hole again, and this time he sees the man, dressed in formal attire, broad shoulders filling out his blazer nicely.

“see him? that’s my uncle,” kade says smugly, puffing up. “he says i’m gonna become a butler like him when i grow up.”

jasper tilts his head curiously. “you want to become a butler?”

“yeah,” kade nods, leaning against the wooden fence and looking up at the clear sky. “uncle says it’s one of the better, if not the best, jobs on the isle.”

jasper scoots closer, imitating kade and leaning against the fence, though he looks at kade instead. kade turns, and smiles.

“say, jas, how about we become butlers together?”

jasper’s eyes light up, and he nods enthusiastically. kade grins.

“it’s a deal, then.”

before they know it, years have passed, slipping past them like sand through their fingers.

the library is silent, save for the scratching of pen nibs and the rustling of endless sheets of parchment scattered across varnished wood. jasper’s used to silence, especially since it somehow always manages to find him in every conversation he has, so he doesn’t attempt to break it.

kade, however, has never been one for staying still.

so it’s not really a surprise when kade speaks up, baritone voice slicing through the thick silence that had settled over them, though jasper does allow himself to raise an eyebrow at the decidedly unique question.

“jas, do you ever wonder why we're even doing this? why we have to sit for a test that evaluates us on criteria some old hag probably created decades ago?"

for all his incisive remarks, kade has never asked him this before. neither has jasper ever thought about it, for that matter. he has always bought fully into his job, his supposed duty.

“why do you believe so readily in what they tell you? why are we trying to hard to ace a test created to evaluate our worth based on terms they set?”

jasper wants to correct him, wants to defend the values he’s always believed in. but that wouldn’t answer the question, not really. what his friend seeks are reasons. reasons he can’t formulate, reasons he can’t provide. reasons he doesn’t even know.

he knows he has to explain himself, but he doesn’t know how it’s possible to explain something he doesn’t understand.

his mind is a whirl as he tries to piece together his fragmented thoughts into coherent explanations, eyes staring unseeingly at the far end of the table. his pen lies forgotten in his hand, a dark stain slowly spreading where the tip meets parchment.

it takes him a while to organise his thoughts, but he knows kade is used to him and his slow pace by now. after a few long moments, jasper sets his pen down and turns to face kade. looking up to meet his gaze, when—

when kade swipes across his face with ink-stained fingers, laughter bubbling past his lips.

jasper freezes, the sudden streaks of cold moistness on his cheek enough for him to realise what has happened. kade’s eyes have already disappeared behind crescent curves, his laughter a resounding staccato.

he must have stayed silent for very long, because kade slowly sobers up, regarding jasper warily, cautiously, as he leans in closer, raucous laughter subsiding to an awkward chuckle.

“wait, jas, are you mad? i—“

jasper doesn’t wait for him to finish his sentence before he reaches into the ink pot and smears the contents on kade’s nose with more speed than he’d thought he was capable of, his lips betraying a small smile.

kade’s lips curl into a cheshire grin, and jasper has about half a second of a head start to leap out of his chair before kade is chasing him around the room, ink on both his hands, ready to be transferred onto pale unmarked skin.

jasper is still no match for kade, only getting a few smudges in for every five or so marks kade leaves on him, but he finds that he doesn’t mind when it ends with kade pinning him to the table, drawing silly patterns on his face as they laugh, clear and uninhibited and blissful.

later, when they’ve calmed down and realised the mess they’ve made, jasper takes kade’s hands in his, gently rubbing the ink stains off with a handkerchief.

“i can do it myself, you know,” kade sulks, eyes looking everywhere but at jasper.

jasper smiles, breath escaping his lips in a soft chuckle. “yeah, and you’ll only rub off the edges of a few stains before you lose your patience and resign yourself to a woeful fate of spending the rest of the day with ink-stained hands.”

kade scowls, but it doesn’t last long, his lips quirking up in a tiny smile by the end of it.

jasper never does manage to tell kade his answer, but he thinks it doesn’t matter anyway, not when they’re happy and content in this moment and that’s really all that matters.

(isn’t it?)

one day during self-study time after breakfast, kade charms his way through a hallway of servants and sneaks into jasper’s room.

jasper’s always had a tendency to unconsciously block out everything when he works, so he doesn’t notice kade until a flash of silver enters his vision and there are hands fastening a chain at the back of his neck.

he looks down to see a clear glass disc hanging on a woven cord, its thin silver rim encircling bits of dried purple and white flower petals.

“sweet pea and white carnations,” kade mumbles, hovering behind jasper even after he finishes fastening the necklace. “wanted to give you some luck before the test.”

jasper smiles. “they’re our birth month flowers, right?”

“yeah.” kade fidgets awkwardly, eventually shoving his hands into his pockets. “yours mean thank you, as well as blissful pleasure. and mine... when white, they represent good luck.” kade pauses. “well, there’s another meaning, but that one isn’t important."

jasper’s known kade long enough to know he won’t be able to get anything more than what he wants to share out of him, so for all his curiosity, he doesn’t say anything, just runs a finger over the glass almost tenderly. “thank you, kae. it’s beautiful."

“yeah, well, it’s nothing much,” kade says, dismissively, even as a light pink dusts his cheeks. “i’m going back to my room. gotta study to beat you."

jasper laughs, calling out “keep trying!” as kade makes a hasty exit, almost crashing into a servant on his way out.

once he’s alone, he tries to go back to studying, but he soon finds the margins of his notes filled with sketches of flowers.

(kade would've thought that on a place like the isle, with all its concealed nooks and crannies, people would find better hiding spots to discuss their secrets. but no, apparently people like to talk in places that aren’t exactly that obscure.

like the small library.

he’s there searching for books on the isle's rules of conduct, because jasper had complained about needing to find and memorise every single one of them, and between the dark circles under his eyes and his appalling tendency to forget to eat kade decides it's a better idea for him to help him out. though he does have a backlog of work from all the times he skipped self-study time to explore the isle, but well. he'll figure something out later.

he's found the fourth book and eliminated the thirty-seventh when he hears muffled voices carrying over, filtering through the gaps between crisp pages on shelves. he can't quite make out the words, so he edges closer, curiosity piqued.

"...this year's trials will be interesting, don't you think?"

"yes, certainly, though i still can't quite understand why ren decided to sign up for the chef trials instead. he'd make a fine butler, if i do say so myself."

gossip, then. kade's about to turn and leave, disinterested in such inane small talk, only to be stopped in his tracks by something a lot more relevant.

"say, talking about butlers, jasper's practically a shoo-in, isn't he? given that he's our leader's descendant and all."

"yeah, of course. how could we possibly not select our isle's golden boy? even if he were to flunk the test, we'd probably still accept him anyway."

the books fall from kade's arms, tumbling to the ground before he even realises he's let them go. then he's striding out of the library, gaze steeled into a hard glare, tension pulsating in his veins.)

seventeen minutes before the test, jasper finds himself allowing kade to lead him to the small pier, a strong hand wrapped firmly around his wrist.

“i need to talk to you,” kade had said, and jasper had allowed himself to be pulled along, like he always had.

they’re back at their usual hideout, a secluded spot on the far end of the beach, where the wind’s rustling both drowns out the surrounding noise and masks their voices from any eavesdroppers. it’s a mystical place, magical even. jasper would question it if not for the fact that the rest of the isle is equally mystical, and he’d end up having to question the entire basis of his existence.

regardless, he likes this place. whenever they’re here, it feels like they’re the only ones who exist, like they’re the only ones who matter.

but they’re not here for that today.

“i’m leaving the isle,” kade blurts, blunt as always. “come with me.”

jasper pauses, looking up at kade. any other person would either have laughed it off as a joke, but he knows kade, knows him well enough to recognise the look in his eyes. the steely determination burning bright behind violet irises.

“why?”

kade laughs, hollow and haunting.

“i'm sick of this isle, jasper. why not? why do you even want to take the test? why do you want to live under someone else’s terms?”

jasper stares, stunned, before replying disbelievingly, “because it’s our duty. you told me that yourself when we were kids, remember? it’s passed down from generation to generation. it’s more than just culture, or tradition, or beliefs. it’s who we are. who we’re supposed to be.”

kade rolls his eyes. “and who gets to decide that? who has the right to dictate how we should lead our lives?”

“this isn’t dictating! it’s what we were born to do. if we don’t do it, who will?” jasper pleads.

“i don’t know. i don’t care. i don’t want to be a part of it.”

jasper lets out a short, exasperated noise. “kade, what’s gotten into you? why are you needlessly rebelling against our beliefs?”

kade scoffs. “and why are you blindly following in your ancestor’s footsteps? acting like some pet pathetically tagging along wherever its master goes.”

“it’s not called blindly following if i know where i’m going,” jasper says, his face darkening. “what are you trying to do, play around? i don’t know who gave you these ideas, kade, but you need to grow up."

the next thing he knows, kade’s punched him, knuckles connecting hard with bone.

the finger jasper raises to his lip comes away bloody.

“you don’t understand me at all, do you,” kade snarls, voice low and caustic.

jasper doesn’t respond, just looks at kade, gaze laced with hurt and disbelief.

this isn’t the kade he knows.

kade laughs scathingly. “well, i’m leaving,” he says, eyes cold and cruel, "since clearly i’m not good enough for you, mr. golden boy.”

then he stalks off without so much as a second glance back, shoulders set in an angry line.

and jasper’s left alone, wind whipping loud in his ears. too loud.

kade doesn’t show up for the test, because he’s kade. jasper aces it, because he’s jasper.

even after the exam ends, the other candidates are still gossiping about the bloody cut on the corner of his lip, about kade’s absence, about how visibly shaken and distracted jasper had been throughout the test. mostly it's about how they must have fought and what must have happened. whose fault it must have been.

all the candidates get a long break as a reward for studying so hard. jasper doesn’t have the energy to deal with other people, so he retreats to his room and proceeds to spend the rest of his time locked in it.

the days pass by in a daze, sunrises blending into sunsets until he can’t tell the days apart anymore. the servants learn to ignore him when they bring him food or take his laundry or clean his room. he doesn’t notice them anyway, his mind far too focused on something else entirely.

then one day kade walks into his room. he doesn’t say anything, just stands in the doorway, so jasper tries to comfort him. tells him that he can still study and pass the test next year. instead, kade scoffs. tells him that he doesn’t even want to become a butler anymore, and leaves without saying anything else.

the memory is so fuzzy that jasper can’t remember whether it actually happened or not, so he tells himself it was a dream, as if that would somehow make it sting less.

he buries himself in endless silence and endless thoughts, and it’s only weeks later when the head butler personally comes to drag him out to begin his butler duties that jasper finally forces himself to leave the safety of his room.

after years of preparation, he’s gotten the position he’s always wanted. but he feels emptier than he’s ever had, eyes blank and heart numb, a walking shell of his former self.

and now, it’s been years since he became a butler.

it’s been years, and the system is starting to crack and collapse around them all.

the worst part is that jasper, bound by duty, can only watch as it happens.

he's powerless to stop it. he shouldn't be interfering, he should only watch and record as is. it is not his place to do anything.

and yet he desperately wants to. wants to help delegates who deserve it, wants to expose the corruption rooted within the isle staff. wants to ask the reasons why the isle is what it is.

but he doesn’t, because these were the exact things kade had been questioning before he shut him down so harshly, and he’d be a hypocrite to bring it up now.

but it’s been years, and jasper thinks all that time has taught him a little about courage.

the walk to kade’s room is longer than he remembers, but he steels himself to continue. he’s delayed this for far too long. he can't keep hiding anymore.

the locket hangs heavy on his chest as he knocks on the door, tentatively at first, then determinedly. swallows his pride because between the two, it’s the thing he’d rather lose.

kade opens the door, and regards him with an icy, doubtful look.

jasper swallows the fear and hurt and regret bubbling up in his throat. reminds himself to breathe.

“kae. can we talk?"

[pushspacetocontinue]

This is like the third day in a row that tumblr has acted screwy. It’s not usually like this.

[pushspacetocontinue]

New physical details added.

This new information shall be added to his character stats pages (on the distinguishing features section) as well, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to make a post about it too. But Russell has a few new tattoos. All three of them are worn on his inner wrists, they're constellations, and he's very proud of them.

On his left wrist, he has a tattoo of Libra, and on his right wrist, he has two tattoos. One is of Lyra, and the other is of Canis Major.

He'll most likely be wearing shorter sleeves now that he has them, and so they'll be noticeable too.

[pushspacetocontinue]

So as I said in my previous post, I've been debating changing Russell's character tag. I have some ideas of what I could use, but I wanted to ask which you'd all prefer, or whether to even change it at all. So I have made a poll.

So yeah, I welcome my followers, new and not so new, to give this a click and tell me what you think.

[pushspacetocontinue]

So I am going to add this to my rules page as well. But it's just something I wanted to make clear.

If you decide you don't want my blog following you and you soft block, and then I follow you again, I didn't mean it. I am daft sometimes and I don't always pick up on intentions.

If I follow you again after you soft block, I did it because I assumed that tumblr was being buggy (which we know isn't uncommon, let's face it) or I unfollowed by accident. I do not intend to come across as pushy if I follow you again after a softblock. But I still wanted to make that clear and apologise in advance in case it does happen.

Thank you for understanding.

[pushspacetocontinue]

💌

((Now there are tons of awesome OCs on this blog because @the-haunted-office is a brilliant multimuse, but I'm focussing on the OC Doomsday for this. There are other great ones of course and you can find the others there.

I like how Doomsday has been through a lot and now she's at this stage where she will follow her own path and ideals no matter what. She's completely determined not to let anyone push her around anymore, and definitely wants the same for others who have been in her shoes. But she still has that compassion for others who have not earned her wrath, and does still want friends.

It's plain to see she still is affected by her past, but she's come to some terms with it, and is trying to heal in her own way.))

[pushspacetocontinue]

So if a vampire drained Russell's blood to the point where he died, what would happen?

((Funnily enough, I thought about this after the question I got about Russell's life force being drained out. Either the vampire will regurgitate all back up and it will rush back into Russell's body, or it will just 'disappear' from the inside the vampire's body and rapidly regenerate itself inside of Russell again, reviving him and leaving the vampire right back where they started.

Also, I think his blood wouldn't actually give much in the way of sustenance to a vampire, given the fact he's practically dead at this point.))