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cardigan-ns · 23 days ago

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NOW ITS ALL HALLOWS EVE

𓉸 Father Charlie Mayhew x Mortician!Reader

𓉸 Summary - It’s the day before Halloween, his favourite holiday, he has a visit from death and makes you sympathise with his darkened ways.

He walked down the foggy cobblestones street, as plenty of people passed him, families with their kids in dress up, elderly folk heading into the church to pray and students exiting the university for their trips home. “Evening, Father, where are you headed at this hour?” A man erupted, he was a regular sinner, always in the church for confessions to ease his guilt and nothing more. “I’m off to get a brew.” He spoke rather chipper, he held himself rather high as he spoke, his hands intertwined together over his a stomach. The man waves him a good bye with a smile, “Enjoy yourself, don’t stay out too late though, the killers still out there.” Father Mayhew gave a fake laugh through gritted teeth and quickly turned it to a face of distain as the man left his view. “Fucking malevolent piece of shit.” He muttered to himself as he walked down a set of stoned steps painted with fallen orange leaves.

He pushed open the mahogany doors of the church, and made himself greeted by the eyes of the parishioners and the lady in black by the alter. She looks magnificent and Father Mayhew loved smelling the scent of her perfume, it counteracted with the woeful mourns of the grieving as she preserves the body from which they weep.

“Ah, Miss Jones.” Father Mayhew charms as he smiled to you, taking the memorial card you handed him. “Agnes Berthel.” Charlie sighs, she was a devoted Christian woman, taken by her old age, and her spite as Charlie figured. “She will be missed.” You looked at the priest, annoyed with him, not because of what happened just now, but because it keeps happening, you’ve been here 6 times this past week for 11 different deaths, there’s been that many that you needed to double up the burial times.

“Where were you?” You asked as it seemed odd he wasn’t in the convent getting ready for the funeral. He looked at you as if you had some gumption questioning his whereabouts but he just smiled. “I was on a stroll, getting a cup of cocoa, and enjoying the windy weather. Is that such a bad thing?” You rolled your eyes at his taunt and you took a look at the body in the casket, flowers gracing the coffin, and a few people already settled into the pews, ready to hear her send off to heaven. “It’s not a bad thing if you don’t have a funeral to speak at.” You bit back. You’ve known Father Mayhew long enough to know he wasn’t the average priest, he was a snarky, know-it all who assumed he knew faith better than anybody else. He has hopes for this church and he’d stop at nothing to fulfil it.

“I’ll have you know that I have worked hard to build up a relationship with each person in this community, and I’ll be damned if I let you question me once more.” He spoke behind you, over your shoulder, he then moved his arm over you and fixed the position of the coffin, moving it ever so slightly. “Wouldn’t want her four sons to be disgusted at the placement of this thing, now, would we?” He’s sickening to hear but also you craved being corrected by him, you knew he didn’t know everything but you liked when he made himself seem of higher intelligence at you for your own job. Maybe it’s because of his occupation, or maybe it’s just his face.

He took his stance on the alter now, behind the podium, fixing the mic as it fit the level of his face and he sighed before he began. “May everyone be seated as we begin this service.” He lowered his hands, ushering everyone to rest on the wooden bench. He softly moved his head as he looked at you, his face firm, telling you to swallow your pride and take a seat for the mourners. You sat by the husband of the deceased. He reached his hand out to hold yours for support and you did so. For some reason, when Charlie saw this a ripple of distain ran through his very core.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of Agnes Berthel, loving mother, wife, sister, and devoted Catholic woman.” Father Mayhew had everyone’s attention, and they depended on him to make this a safe space without fear of it being distasteful. Little did they know of the reasoning there’s been a but-load of deaths recently. He’s been on a spree, obviously to get people into the church, there’s really been a lack of worship nowadays and he needed to scare people into believing in his lord.

As you listened to him talk, you noticed the tacky red boots he wore, and remembered a saying. About how the red symbolises the blood you step on or something, your mind was running amuck you couldn’t get the words in your brain to function. But he was guilty of something, going off of colour alone.

The service ended, the woman was buried. And your mind was still not put to ease. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of disturbance looming over Father Mayhew. “Miss Jones?” He called over to you from the placement of biscuits and coffee in the church function room. “Uh, yes?” You broke out of your conspiracy and his smile brought you back to hypnosis. “Your handbag.” He handed it over to you tauntingly, pulling it back everytime you tried to grab it. “Ah ah ah, not so fast.” He teased you with a cocky smile. You glared at him and then his hand reached into the bag to show all the memorial cards throughout the past sermons that have happened this week. “A little morbid, don’t you think?” He asked as he looked at it with fake confusion, he was the real sick one.

“It’s evidence.” You spoke. So assured in your word, making the priests brows spike up, and his mouth wrinkle in mocked disturbance. “God you’re more insane than I thought.” He was really one to talk, he’d have had to rifle through your handbag to find those in the first place, to then present them to you as if it was the first he’s seen them. “It’s proof that there’s been an over excessive amount of deaths recently.” You crossed your arms with a cup of coffee in your hand, the styrofoam almost crumbling in your firm grip.

Father Mayhew just laughed, nodding as if he had something smart to say. “And you think some pity cards are going to bring them back?” He huffed. “They’re dead, and they must’ve died for a reason. God’s plan.” He kissed his fingers and put them to the air, he’s a devilish man. You scowled at the man, as imperfect and unholy as anything you’ve ever seen. “It’s not easy, you know, seeing the state some of these bodies are in. Then having to conduct a post-mortem, seeing the horrific ways in which they died. You’d have a heart attack if you saw the rawness they come to my funeral home in.” He nodded along in fake sympathy, knowing he’s the one that made the bodies that very way, all on purpose too, he needed the community to see just how disturbed their minds were in the physical realm. Bring them to God’s house and let them find sanctity once more.

“Let’s suppose you’re right. You can’t stop this killer. He doesn’t want to be stopped.” Father Mayhew stuck the memorial cards back in your bag before dropping it on the floor purposely. Your eyes shot up at him in a glare, he really was a piece of work, like a child throwing a tantrum. Sickening man. “That’s why the police are solving it. To take this guy down.” Father Mayhew then shook his head and stood very close by your side, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear. “But think of it this way, this killer is helping you out.” He whispered, with a small sigh, wishing you’d just understand him. “You’ve made more money this week than you would in an entire year, correct?” You wondered where he was getting at and finally, he dropped the bomb, money. Greed. Financial pride. “Greed is a sin, father. You know this. Don’t tell me you’re okay with the greed of the killer.” Father Mayhew gave a low chuckle at your reasoning for your distain for the murders. “All I’m saying is, it’s getting you paid, bringing more people to church, and allowing the police to work overtime and hopefully get Christmas off. This man is helping the dutiful workers of our city, is he not?” He was convincing enough to not be suspected, that’s for sure, he even had you nodding along and agreeing with him. What disgusting ways of manipulation he has.

“There you go, that was easy, wasn’t it, listening to me.” He smiled, and knelt down to the carpeted floor, fixing the items back into your bag and handing it to you from his knelt position. You gladly took it, glad he’d wised up and got on his hands and knees and retrieved what was rightfully yours. “I’ll keep that in mind, father.” You smiled and had an idea, he forgot to lift up the compact mirror of yours that was on the floor, as he was about to lift it, then your heel impacted his hand, he winced but didn’t make a yelp. His face turned to look up at yours, he bit his lip slightly in pain. “Not so fun when you’re the one in pain.” You gave one last push before leaving him be, you bend over and grabbed the mirror, his eyes scanned over your body and how the trousers you wore hugged you in the most magnetic way. Then he had a riveting thought, tonight he’s killing your boss, then you’ll get promoted and maybe visit him more often.

#charlie mayhew #father charlie x reader #father charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew x reader #father mayhew #fx grotesquerie #grotesquerie #nicholas alexander chavez

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the-masked-ram · 6 months ago

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Sweet and Sour- Part One

CW: SFW, Slow burn, Eventual NSFW, Tags will change with each installment, Fem!reader, sassy reader, opposites attract

A/N: I am taking some liberties with Kaji and the Wind Breaker world with as much as we know about it. This is kind of canon divergent but not an AU

Kaji first met you when the sun was setting. Music was blaring in his ears, a sucker pressed firmly in between his teeth and cheek, and he was frowning down at his scuffed-up knuckles. That damned cat was far more trouble than it was worth. He pursed his lips; it was going to get fucking hurt one day. That thought, the thought that a part of the town that cared for him and accepted him and gave him purpose, might get hurt and wither like a dying flower caused a vicious twisting sensation in his chest.

---

He huffed and shook his head, pushing that feeling away. It was his job to make sure none of that happened. Even now that he was only in Bofurin and no longer in Furin, even though he was too old to truly be part of the school, it didn’t matter. Everyone who was ever once part of Bofurin never stopped. Not until they were forced to.

His gaze dragged along the park he’d found himself in, alone after a long day of patrols. He was still considered a cornerstone in Bofurin, but he was certain one day someone would take his place and that day he would need to find something outside that world that would carry him. Kaji just wasn’t sure what the resting beast inside of him would accept. He’d only known violence, he’d just found a way to channel it for good.

Only one bench had an opening, but you sat on the other side. He hesitated, uncertain, he didn’t want to be bothered now. But then he noticed the orange glow glinting off your headset, the gentle nod of your chin as you bobbed it in time with whatever music you were listening to while your fingers dug around a tin of candy.

His gaze slipped away from you, intending to avoid drawing your attention. He dropped onto the farthest edge of the seat, twirling the stick of the sucker so the candy rolled its welcoming sweetness against his tongue. Your head hadn’t even shifted in his direction.

It was strange, being part of Bofurin meant never getting a moment of peace. Something Kaji usually thrived in, he liked the noise, the rowdiness, even if he didn’t show it. Yet, it also meant when he needed a moment, just a second, to himself so he could think things over it was near impossible to find it. With a town member so close he imagined that you would start thanking him, making his spine stiffen and his hackles raise until something vulgar, and defensive came from his mouth, even if he tried to soften the blow of his words it never quite worked. You didn’t though.

In fact… Kaji tilted his head as he leaned back against the bench, eyes roving over you discreetly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you before. He wasn’t necessarily good with names, but he wasn’t terrible with faces. He was certain he’d remember yours too. You gave no acknowledgement of his presence though and there was something about it, something about you being there, smiling as you nodded along with your music, sucking on ume sour candy, and staring across at the sparkling horizon. Your silence was comforting, was welcoming without needing anything to be said, it was different, and Ren liked it.

“Here,” you said, holding out a bandage.

There was a piece of him, so small, that wanted to ask your name. It made his skin itch and his teeth grind with nerves, but he pushed it down. He was never the one to talk first. He didn’t want to encourage that. He’d rather be left alone right now; he was bothered enough by the others in Bofurin.

He looked down at the damage to his hand once again and sighed, soaking in the last of the warm rays against his jacket. A shadow fell in front of him, and he startled, looking up with his fist clenching in preparation.

“Don’t be an idiot,” you narrowed your eyes and tilted your head, challenging him.

Your headset was down around your neck and your cheek bulged with the candy. He scowled.

“Don’t need it,” he huffed, as he shifted his headset away from his ears.

“It’s just a damned scrape,” he grumbled, fighting to soften his voice. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have, still… even the smallest thing can get worse. A scrape can get infected,” you said persistently and knelt down, ripping open the package and taking his hand in yours.

Instantly Kaji moved to pull back, but your fingers tightened, and you fixed him with a glare that had him freezing up. Not even Kotoha could do that to him. Your touch was delicate though even with the furrow to your brow as you pressed the bandage into place causing your face to morph into a pleased smile.

“Don’t be dumb, keep that on,” you said as you stood and dusted yourself, only to turn and leave.

Kaji could do nothing more than blink, a light flush burned his cheeks, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you walked away before the sun set completely. He definitely would have remembered you. Who the hell were you?

#ren kaji x reader #wind breaker #drabble series #fanfiction #ren kaji

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spicybeefnoodles · 10 months ago

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bantering/flirting

summary: kung lao and johnny cage have a moment

warnings: none :)

Kung Lao watched Raiden and Kenshi spar on the training grounds in the shade of the tree. He was leaning up against the trunk, hands behind his head, and idly counting the flower petals that drifted to the ground. Raiden and Kenshi moved in a blur in the background, kicking up dust and making attempts to catch the other off-guard. Maybe it was because they had been training together for so long, but the sparring match never seemed to end. Whenever Kenshi went to bring Raiden down, Raiden would peel back and avoid his grabbing hands. Then, Raiden would go low, aiming for his legs and his torso, but Kenshi would adjust, crouching to lower his balance and deflect Raiden’s blows. Kung Lao had seen the routine too many times to count.

He blew away a flower petal that had landed on his forehead. Watching Raiden and Kenshi train had been entertaining for the first few minutes, but he had grown bored of watching the ceaseless sparring. Kung Lao supposed that he should also be training, but with the blazing sun and the dead wind, he would much rather sit under the shade of the tree.

Earlier, he had tried to convince Kenshi to go shirtless. He had pulled out every stop, sighing at the sun, wiping away his sweat with his sleeve, and had even pulled off his own shirt in an effort to get the tattooed man to take off his orange training uniform. It was to no avail, and somehow, Kenshi didn’t look sweaty at all. In contrast, Raiden was shirtless and sweaty, a slight sheen of it emphasizing his chest and back, but Kung Lao had seen Raiden shirtless a thousand times. Feeling Johnny Cage stand over him, Kung Lao didn’t spare a glance toward the actor. Cage most definitely had his shirt off and would be flexing his pecs with that obnoxious tattoo of his name.

“Damn, guess the heat got to you, huh?” Johnny grinned, and Kung Lao hoped that the heat of the day hid the flush on his cheeks.

“Oh please, I was just taking a nap from being so bored.” Kung Lao stood up, trying to subtly flex his muscles as he stretched out his arms and chest. He didn’t miss how Cage’s eyes trailed down from his chest to his stomach and felt a bit of his ego inflate.

“Bored from what?” Cage shamelessly stared at Kung Lao’s chest, and the latter crossed his arms, pushing his pecs together and showing off his arms.

“From beating all of you in sparring of course.”

With that comment, the actor looked up and let out an amused huff, “I could beat you any day.”

“Didn’t seem like that yesterday when I pinned you to the floor.”

“I was just distracted!” Johnny placed a hand on his hips, frowning at Kung Lao. He would never admit it, but Kung Lao found the trait endearing. He liked how Cage’s lips pouted and that slightly whiny voice of his whenever he complained. Feeling a small mischievous feeling coil up in his stomach, Kung Lao took a step closer to Cage.

“Distracted by what?” The man smirked and leaned in close to Cage, faces just a small stumble away from each other. For a moment, Johnny stood still and Kung Lao went to pull away, satisfied at his small win. Suddenly, Lao found himself pinned to the cherry tree behind him, a leg pressed between his thighs and an arm pressed up against the tree beside his head. For a brief moment, Lao was reminded of a scene in those cheesy Chinese shows Raiden’s sister had made him watch with her. Perhaps they were a bit more realistic than he had thought.

“By you of course.” Cage certainly wasn’t looking at Kung Lao’s eyes. He was staring directly at the man’s lips, and Kung Lao felt his body blaze with a searing heat and his mouth grow dry. Lao was a confident man, perhaps a little too cocky, but he had never had too much luck in the romance department. With Johnny so close to his body, shirtless, sweaty, and definitely not with an intent to spar, Kung Lao felt his brain short-circuit and his jaw hang open like a fish. Letting out a small chuckle, Cage pressed a slight kiss to Lao’s cheek and got off him, leaving the flustered man to press a hand to the cheek that Johnny had kissed.

“It seems like Cage likes you.”

Kung Lao looked up and found Kenshi standing in front of him with Raiden at his side. Lao could only stare at the two as his brain tried to catch up with what just happened.

“I’ve never seen him so speechless. Perhaps Johnny Cage could finally teach Lao to be quiet.” Raiden had a slight sparkle to his eyes that indicated he would not ever let this moment go, and Kung Lao snapped out of his stupor and scowled at his friend.

“Oh shut up.”

#fluffuary 2024 #fluff #kung lao mk1 #johnny cage mk1 #raiden mk1 #kenshi mk1 #kung lao x johnny cage #starhat #johnlao #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat fanfiction #noodle’s writings

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wisteria-cherry · 1 year ago

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forty days and forty nights (day thirty-six!)

(warning: slight spoilers from chapters 403 and following chapters! (bakugo can now sweat nitroglycerin from his entire body))

shaken as you were, you were determined not to get katsuki involved. you were certain that it would sort itself out, and, if all else fails, the police are perfectly good at catching criminals. heroes are just… a bonus.

katsuki had to patrol after he left the shop; he had a meeting, so he had kirishima cover the couple hours he’d needed for it. katsuki would continue the patrol after his coffee. so, you didn’t ask him to walk you home that day.

big mistake.

your shift was a blur. katsuki had come in, and made an off handed comment about how you look distracted, but you’d quickly shut it down and resumed your regular small talk. katsuki had left, you had closed, and you were now walking home on a crisp thursday afternoon. you were horrified, but not surprised, to find that the man was following you, albeit from a distance.

you abruptly turn around, fed up with him.

“why are you following me?” you demand. the man looks slightly taken aback, before glancing around nervously.

“‘m not following you.” the man snapped. you furrow your brow, hesitating for only a second before bolting.

you could feel your body screaming. you were running as fast as you could, but you could feel him. you could hear the pounding of the pavement behind you, hear the crunch of the leaves under his shoes. you felt sweat drip down your face and the muscles in your legs burn, despite the cool, november air. you gulped in dry breaths that were so deep they made your lungs hurt.

go go go go don’t stop you have to get—

you felt a wave of dread crash over your body. you couldn’t go to your apartment. you can’t go home or he’ll know where you live— assuming he doesn’t already. assuming your hallucination from that night were real.

where the hell do i go?

you frantically look around as you try to find somewhere to go instead. suddenly, your eyes lock in on a townhouse on the corner of two streets. you recognized it— the owners painted it with flowers, and had a pretty garden.

it was also on katsuki’s patrol route.

you glance at the road. there were cars— not too many— but then were stopped—red light. you skid to the left, running across the crosswalk as the orange numbers ticked down the seconds.

you felt like the breath was being stolen from you as you run, stumbling slightly, down the street by the flower house.

you look back, only to see the man gaining on you. he had a knife— ten of them. his nails. his nails could become knives. oh my god. oh my god. you pull out your phone as you run, your fingers flying as they frantically type in your password. wrong one. you type it again, and choke back a whimper as it unlocks and your thumb slams on the call button as you look back up, trees planted next to the sidewalk flying past.

nononononono

you scroll as fast as you can down your contacts, trying to locate katsuki’s name, and then you do and then you press call and then—

your foot hits something.

one glance tells you it was a tree root that sent you to the ground, skidding slightly, feeling the scratchy cement sidewalk claw at your skin. you barely register the yelp your voice produces, instead focused on the phone that slid out of your grip as it rang.

calling…

you try to scream, but your dry throat didn’t produce a sound.

calling…

“stop-“ you finally manage to croak out as the man slowed to a menacing prowl, his fist gripping the knife. “please—“

calling…

“dunno why y’gotta be so damn loud.” the man snarled. “fuckin’ annoyin’, f’ya ask me.”

00:00

“i’m on patrol, make it quick, dumbass.”

your attention whips to the phone, and you scramble away from the man, closer to the phone.

“flower house—“ you gasp out, “flower- flower house— no!” your voice elevates into a shriek as the man suddenly stomps on your phone, shattering the screen to pieces.

“the fuck’s that, huh?” he grins, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. “better not be tellin’ on me.”

you know you’re hyperventilating. you can tell. but you can’t figure out what to do. what do you do? he’s armed, you’re not. you try to even your breathing, try to stop thinking about what your loved ones will do once you’re dead.

“please—“ breathe in, breathe out. “please don’t do this. i don’t— i don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

“i don’t hafta answer you.” the man snapped. “you better shut yer pretty mouth up, huh? shut it up before i shut it for ya.”

“don’t have to answer? you’ve been stalking me and now you’re threatening me— and i don’t even get to know why?” you hiss, anger slowly starting to bubble up. you continue to breathe, trying to stay level-headed. an outburst would surely get you hurt.

“hell naw. listen here, you little-“ the man stops, and so do you. you tilt your head, listening close. an undeniable crackle, not unlike the sound of sparklers. the man turns around.

katsuki.

he’s walking slowly, menacingly, towards the man. the man stiffens— he knows who dynamight is.

“absolutely not.” katsuki stalks towards you and the man. you’d never found his massive figure to be intimidating— not til now. “absolutely the fuck not.”

“there’s nothing happening.” the man said stiffly as katsuki stepped closer. the man turned to face you and reached your wrist. “my daughter, she just fell s’all— c’mon, young’in, up ye go-“ katsuki’s massive hand ripped the man’s hand away from your wrist. how did he get there so fast?

“i said, absolutely the fuck not.” katsuki rumbled, before clocking the man in the face, knocking him out, just like that. the man crumpled, and katsuki clicked on quirk suppressors for good measure. katsuki’s expression changed, softened, undid the contorted snarl and furrowed eyebrows. pretty red eyed stared down at you before crouching down to your level.

“oi. you call the police yet?” katsuki asked in that gravelly voice of his. you shake your head, before pointing quietly to your crushed phone.

“tch. that explains it.” katsuki scowled. standing up, he pulled out his phone, dialing what was without a doubt the police. “just gimme one second, sweetheart, ‘m gonna call the police for ya.” you nod, curling your scraped knees to your chest.

“it’s dynamight.”

a pause.

“yeah. no, a civilian almost got attacked by some fuckwad—“

another pause.

“no, i’m not gonna refer to him as a civilian too, he’s a goddamn asshole.”

“goddammit, will you shut the hell up and send some damn police? someone’s gotta take this fuck away, i can’t do it right now, i got shit to do.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. fuck you. you got my location or what?”

“…yeah, okay.”

“yeah, she’s fine, just some scrapes from fallin’.”

“yeah.”

“yeah, okay.”

katsuki hung up, then turned back to you, crouching down on the pavement.

“can ya stand up?” he asked. he frowned, studying your expression. “…you’re crying.”

“oh.” you bring your hand to your face, feeling the tear trails on your cheek. you look around. “i can stand up.” but once you tried, you found that your legs were numb. totally numb. you stumbled, and you fell to the ground again, only for katsuki to catch you.

“hey, easy.” he warned, his hands holding your waist securely. katsuki eased you down to sit so close to him that you may as well be in his lap. once you were stable, he slipped his gloves off, wiping them on his baggy pants, probably to wipe the sweat off. his hands held your face, and his eyes studied yours. you were too exhausted to react. he must have found something in your face (which you later learned were your then-dilated pupils) because he said, “you’re in shock, dumbass, don’t move yet.”

“ok.” you agree. you glance at the unconscious man. his nose was gushing blood. you shudder and quickly turn your attention back to katsuki.

“can ya breathe f’me?” katsuki’s question seemed to make you realize how incredibly fast your breathing actually was. “c’mon, deep breaths.”

you nod. your eyes were unfocused, looking in the general direction of katsuki’s chest, and your ears just barely registered his voice. regardless, you matched his breaths as he breathed in, out, in, out.

you and katsuki continued to breathe together as bright red-and-blue lights lit up the road. this time, though, katsuki had picked you up, holding you like a baby so that you could bury your face in the crook of his neck if you so chose, one massive hand placing itself on your back to make sure you kept breathing as he talked to the cops. the cops took the man and left, leaving you and katsuki once more.

“you gonna tell me what happened?” he asked finally as your breathing stabilized and the tears slowed down. he was walking back towards the direction of the coffee shop— or maybe his agency. probably the latter.

“yeah.” you agreed, your voice scratchy. you pause for a moment, trying to find a way to keep it short. the last thing you wanted was to relive the events of thirty minutes ago. “he’d been stalking me for days. then i confronted him then ran. he chased me. that’s it.”

“stalking? why didn’t you tell me?” katsuki frowned. “that asshole’s being arrested for attempted assault. stalking’s a whole other charge to be added.” you shrug. truth be told, you just wanted to go to sleep and be done with it. katsuki sighed.

“well, whatever.” he grumbled. “listen… you probably don’t wanna be alone tonight, do you? lotta people don’t after this kind of thing.” you shook your head. he was spot-on.

“you want me to call up pinky? she’ll let you crash if you—“

“you.” you interrupt. katsuki stopped, his hand putting just a little more pressure on your back as he stiffened.

“…you wanna crash at my place.” he confirmed. you nod.

“if i can.” you add. katsuki stayed quiet for a moment before exhaling.

“yeah, whatever. dumbass.” katsuki huffed, boots scraping against the pavement. “you need to get anything from your place?”

“no.” you lied. you did technically need a change of clothes, pajamas, and hygiene products, but at this point, you didn’t care. you didn’t want to go back there right now. katsuki gave you a skeptical look, but didn’t protest.

“i’m gonna blast us back, got it? it’s gonna be loud, so cover your damn ears.” katsuki looked up towards the star-speckled sky, shifting you to one muscly arm. “ready?”

“…you’re crying.”

“oh.”

(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts :)

tags: @k0z3me @stevenknightmarc @failingstudents-blog @cherryblossomclarity @jazzafayesworld @faerikitty

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou #bnha #mha #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo oneshot #coffee shop au #pro hero bakugo x reader #pro hero au #pro hero bakugo

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lizaluvsthis · 5 months ago

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Since Fatal Lavenders will be discontinued / wont have another chapter for this year- I'm dropping off notes-

OLD CONCEPT REF SHEET

CURRENT CONCEPT

These were all part lore dumps that I never gave more details for her character I just want people to know that she aint dead. Yet.

INCOMING LORE:

HEATHER'S LORE:

Lets just say her Human body became permanent right after PV created it just for her. In order for the body to deform and revert back to goop- the USB had to be broken.

The USB is supposedly attached INSIDE of her right hand- (I didn't included that because it mightve been a bit too gore-ish black-)

She had those clear milk skin, more of a brownish color hair, and also heterochromia eyes.

And ofcourse, Four's favorite color. Blue. The thought of matching colors with your partner would've been a thing by now for her.

In the end of the plot- she was different than that- she considered to be one of those good people who change for the better. (This was her second option)

SMG3 is just jealous when she's around with him but doesn't say a word, remains to be silent all the time.

The clear skin is supposed to be vitiligo and such as her eyes are like bright blue ones. She wears casual clothes than the overalls.

Heather uses She/Her pronouns. Her sexuality is undefined.

SHORTER THAN SMG4! She is genuinely a nice person (even at the end) but since I didn't like the plot of soft- I erased her full character and made a new one for TAG6 as a replacement.

Heather died happily and accepted her fate.

The flowers symbolize as the main characters:

Orange - Meggy

Red - Mario

Purple - SMG3

Blue - SMG4

Light blue - P E A C H

TAG6's LORE:

She had tanned skin and a curly brunette hair. Just by looking at her eyes you KNOW there's something up with it.

Unlike anyones white eyes, they have one more of a yellow-ish detail of color. The overalls are part of what the usb could copy just like Three and Four's main one.

For TAG6, their Human Body is temporary. By what Puzzles made for her has a limit due to the USB's capacity. With that said- the USB is right inside of her. To function it must be there.

Tag6 is shown to have a mean trait- tho she never loved SMG4 at all and to anyone else she doesn't like anyone that they encounter.

The lilac filled on their eyes have somekind of hypnotism when people stare at it. (It may work for some but it doesn't work all of the time)

I thought of making her whole appearance give out the lilac theme due to the mixture of RED and BLUE.

(Which is aka SMG3 and SMG4's eye color and since they helped each other out to finish the usb I think they shared some of their links)

Tho TAG6 does have a yellow appearance in its Combat mode.

Tag6 uses she/they/it pronouns. Its orientation is Aromantic.

THEY'RE SLIGHTLY TALLER THAN SMG4! (Suprisingly this doesn't bother him at all since any woman/men is what he'd prefer-)

And since SMG3 is different to act here when with TAG, he starts up an arguement calling her as weak/selfish than she already is. Causing them to piss off and smash his face with its hammer to the air.

Tag6 can be a bit more impatient, they may look like they're a nice person in general but literally they do it for attention and to get what they're willing to succeed.

But in reality behind their mask they turn out to be the cold hearted, uncaring, hateful, disgusted, and a negative being out of all existance.

At the end of the plot they didn't give a damn when it came to SMG4 she just wanted to finish the mission for its master. But since it failed, she never cared anymore less rather than punching insults at Four.

She gives out the color of Lavender which also is close to main purple (because Purple is SMG3's color signature as well-) TAG6 is basically a copy of that color as well.

I think those are all of it- thank you so much for reading everyone I hope I made some of yall inrerested about this lore because not any other people can create such an amazing idea like this one-

Also for those who are waiting for the new chapter it wont come out this year so you'll have to expect it for the early 2025th

#lizaluv #tgifl #tag6 #the girl in fatal lavenders #smg4 #smg4 oc #smg4 goop

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him-x-her · 5 months ago

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Vee is For Vampires - Chapter 7: The Moon and the Stars

Author: @sinnysioux

AO3: SinnySioux

Vamp!Ville x f!reader

Warnings: Definite smut. 18+

Read on AO3

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It’s been a couple of months or so. I ended my tenancy on the flat and moved in with Ville. I left my job and I am truly thriving, not being held down by a shitty 9-5 that I don’t enjoy. The Haunted Mansion no longer feels like Ville’s home, but our home. There are home cooked meals in the fridge, fresh flowers in every room, wax melts and scents, and the occasional pair of lace panties on the bedroom floor. I spend a lot of the day sleeping, as I am up in the night with Ville. When I’m not sleeping, I am perfecting my Finnish on Duo Lingo; I am confident I can hold a conversation with Ville’s family when it is time to meet them. I also use Google Translate for the occasional smutty and specific sexual demand, which drives Ville wild every time. I am no longer uneasy around blood as I use it in cooking; Ville and I get to have romantic meals together in his dining room. The dining room is a place we have christened several times with our lovemaking, because why wait? The pool room, the bathroom, the garden grounds. I am just as taken by him (and just as thirsty) as I was from the moment I met him, and he spends every minute telling me how much he loves me. Life honestly feels great.

I wake up at 5pm, earlier than usual, feeling like a sack of shit. I perambulate to the bathroom and take a look at myself in the mirror. I am pale, far more pale than usual. There are dark circles around my eyes. My skin is sunken and dry. Ville and I had sex last night; explosive, passionate sex. I had let him drink from me, as I often do now, but I have never felt like this before. Perhaps I am low on iron? Anaemic? That would explain a lot. I make a mental note to talk to my vampire boyfriend about slowing down on the bloodsucking. I look down at the sink and heave. Suddenly, I am sick, and vomit a disgusting green liquid into the sink bowl. Bile, but no actual food. I shake a little and feel faint. Perhaps I need to eat something.

“Cheers, Mari…” I mutter, feeling even more like shit.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, you are just too pale! Let me get you something to eat.” She offers me a multitude of fancy breakfasts but my stomach turns at the mention of them. In the end I agree to toast and a glass of orange juice, as the mere mention of tea has me heaving. How strange; there is little that rivals my love for tea. Perhaps I have a stomach bug. I eat half of my toast, make excuses and settle for a warm soak. The lavender bath salts seem to ease my stomach and relax me. I style my hair, throw a dress on, put on some light makeup and feel well again.

I breathe slowly, taking in his tight leather jeans, and the delicious part where his legs meet and the fabric stretches to contain him. I take in the pale strip of his stomach on display with a little flash of his pelvic heartagram tattoo. I follow the hem of his shirt up; a Type O Negative shirt with two topless women embracing and making their ‘O’ faces. I feel a little twinge between my legs thinking about Ville’s O face. My eyes follow the milky skin along his neck, over his Adams apple, to his jawline, carved by the gods. Those plump pink lips, slender nose, cheekbones, and shining twinkling eyes of gardenia. I am lost in him and in awe of his beauty. “Good evening, Rakkaani.” He pads forward and kisses the top of my head. We sit opposite each other and Ville eats hungrily. I eat a couple of bits of beef, but again find that I don’t really feel hungry. I use my cutlery to play with the food on my plate; trying to give him the impression that I am eating, but he picks up on my behaviour quickly. I tell him I don’t feel hungry and he doesn’t pry further. When he has eaten, I spontaneously stand and place my palms on the table. My knees follow and I crawl to him like a feline stalking her prey. He looks surprised as I lean forward to aggressively bite his bottom lip.

“Ouch!” He snaps. I dig my nails into his shoulders and move to bite his neck, suddenly overcome with lust. “Fuck, baby, stop!” He commands and pushes me to arms length.

“Don’t you want me?” I purr, reaching one hand down to stroke the length of his cock through his tight jeans whilst the other fumbles with his belt.

He grabs my wrist, “No. Not here.” He whispers, angrily.

“What’s the matter, baby? I know you want me-“, I sing.

He holds my shoulders at arms’ length. “This isn’t like you, what’s going on? You’re being aggressive…”

“Don’t… don’t fucking question my love for you. It’s not fair…”. The tears roll out of my eyes and down to the floor, and I start to shake. I am scared to look at him. “I didn’t mean to-“ he gets up immediately trying to make amends for his outburst, “I’m sorry…”. He takes a step towards me and I step back.

“It’s fine. I need to go-“, my voice breaks as I turn to leave and run up the staircase. I make it to Ville’s room, throw myself on his bed and break down. My face buried in his pillow; my tears dampening his bed linen. He has never shouted at me like this before, but I am more so hurt by the rejection. The fear that he will wake up, realise I am nothing special, and discard me like a bloodless body. I cry harder.

I feel the bed creak and lower, and an arm wrap around me. My body stiffens but Ville kisses my shoulders, my arms. “I’m sorry… you didn’t deserve that”.

Through my tears, I sigh, “You were right, I wasn’t being myself.” I say solemnly.

“Even so, I should never have shouted at you. It just… I feel like I need to explain why I got so angry. Will you please look at me?” I roll over apprehensively to meet his eyes, ever beautiful and green. I kick myself for crying, and imagine I look like a puffy pink mess. He wipes at my tears with his thumbs as he cradles my face. “Come… sit up.”

Begrudgingly, I allow him to pull me up, and sit with my back against the headboard. He puts his hands in my lap, palms up, and I put my hands in his. His thumbs run reassuring circles over my knuckles. He takes a deep breath and launches into his explanation. “I had an ex girlfriend who used to accuse me of not loving her every time she didn’t get her way. She would use it as a weapon to get me to do things that I didn’t want to do. If I didn’t want to go to a party with her friends, she would say it was because I didn’t love her. If I didn’t want to get blackout drunk with her, I didn’t love her. It was exhausting.” He reminisces, sadly.

“I’m not her…” I whisper without looking up from our hands.

“No”, agrees Ville, “You’re not. You’re kind, and thoughtful, and funny…” he kisses my hands “…and I will love you throughout this life and the next.” I look up and smile weakly, and start to feel faint. I can feel bile rising from my stomach and bolt to the bathroom. Ville follows and holds my hair back as I retch over the sink, and helps me back to the bedroom when I am done.

“You didn’t eat at dinner”, he says, more observant than I give him credit for. “You need to eat something to settle your stomach.”

I sigh, “I know, I just don’t really feel myself. The thought of food alone makes me feel sick-“.

“Then we’ll get you to a doctor.” Ville interjects. “I have a private doctor who could probably fit us in tomorrow evening…” he says, standing.

“No, Ville, it’s fine. I’m still registered with my old doctor. I’ll go there tomorrow morning. That way I’ll get seen quicker.” I decide.

“You’re sure?” Ville says, brows furrowed, looking concerned.

“Yes”, I say, but he doesn’t seem convinced. “I’m sorry I was… aggressive… my mood has been a little bit all over the place the last two days… it’s probably a hormone imbalance or something.”

He lies facing me and strokes my hair, “You seem so sad. What is upsetting you? Please let me take it away.”

I breathe deeply. “Ville… I love you… but I don’t have a life outside of you, and that is… well, it’s frightening. I don’t exist outside of you, and if one day you feel like it’s not working out, I will lose everything. My best friend, my love, my home, my purpose; and I think a loss that great would kill me.” He holds my hands in his again and commands my gaze with his intensely calming eyes.

“I have never felt this way before, nor will I ever feel this way again. I am yours. Completely. Body and soul… assuming there is a soul there” he laughs briefly, “I won’t ever turn you away. In fact, it is I who fears losing you. I am terrified of you realising how much better you can do…” he blinks as if to halt tears. “…what can I do to fix this?” he begs.

I take a moment to establish what I want. “I want to go to Finland, Ville. I want to leave London. I want to travel, find purpose… it is not enough that we love each other. I need to begin to love myself again.”

He nods. “We will go to Finland”, he promises. I kiss him lightly on the cheek.

“Kiitos, rakkaani”, I say, thanking him.

He smiles. “Your pronunciation is really good, you’ll fit in with us Finns easily.” I smile back and drift out of consciousness.

…

When I awake it is seven in the morning and I continue to feel even more like death. I call the medical practice and ask to be seen today. They are hesitant as always, probably busy blah blah, but oblige when I describe my symptoms. I am relieved to get an appointment but also scared; what if it’s something bad? I get out of bed and trudge slowly to the bathroom. I still look pretty pale which really highlights the dark circles around my eyes. Great. I brush my teeth, floss, and have a quick body shower. I return to the bedroom to get dressed in one of Ville’s shirts and a pair of black skinny jeans. I walk downstairs slowly, preparing myself for Mari’s over concern.

Predictably, she is not afraid to tell me I look like shit. Damn these Finns and their brutal honesty. At least she offers breakfast. I ask her for something plain and she delivers with pancakes. They are a bit sweeter than expected but I surprise myself by eating three; it seems the lack of consistent food and vomiting has left my stomach empty and increased my appetite. I still don’t feel like drinking tea so I opt for warm water instead and thank Mari as always for her kind hospitality. I pack some essentials: phone, bank card, ID into a handbag, grab a jacket and stroll outside.

Sure enough, Elias is parked in the courtyard outside Ville’s home. I knock his window and he rolls it down.

“Are you… always here? Do you ever get a break?” I implore out of honest concern.

Elias laughs, “Usually whilst Ville is sleeping, where did you want to go Miss?” I feel guilty.

“I… um… could you take me to a park or something? With a cafe? I feel like fresh air and a walk would do me good.” Elias of course accepts the request, before opening my door for me. I opt to sit in front and tell him Ville and I are thinking of going to Finland. I try to pry about what Ville’s life in Finland is like. He seems uneasy, and gives me very little back. However, when I switch the conversation to Ville’s parents he brightens, reassuring me that they are very kind and accommodating people. That’s nice, at least.

He drops me off at a park with lots of greenery, a kids’ play area, some benches and a small cafe. He insists on waiting for me even though I tell him I might be a while. I walk into the cafe and it is quiet. There are a few older couples having afternoon tea. I smile politely and do my best to look like a mentally well person who has her shit together. I purchase a hot chocolate and a little cake, and sit outside. I hold the cardboard cup between my palms and sip my warm drink. Autumn is here and it is colder; this is actually great because it means that the nights are getting longer, which of course means more time with my love.

I watch children playing on swings and climbing frames in the playground, and smile. It would be nice to have children. Maybe this could be something to discuss once we are settled in Finland, assuming his parents like me.

My mind wanders thinking about how I can impress his parents… I don’t want them to think I’m some weirdo with a vampire fetish. Then again, Ville’s dad does run a sex shop… I’m sure he’s seen stranger things. I pop back into the cafe to order a simple coffee. Elias seems like a coffee guy. I head back to the car with my offering, which Elias gracefully accepts, before driving me to the medical surgery. He does so without asking me why. He’s a good guy: private; respectful.

I sit in the waiting room with one headphone in. My love is singing about being buried alive by love, whilst I nervously tap my fingers on my knees. The doctor calls me in and asks me what the problem is.

“Um… I’ve not been feeling myself lately. My appetite has reduced, I feel lethargic and weak. At first I thought it was a lack of vitamin D or iron or something, but I’ve been taking supplements. Oh, I’m, my mood has been a bit up and down and I’ve thrown up a few times…” she listens to my monologue patiently.

“Okay, and when was your last period?” Silence.

“Oh, um… I don’t know, er…” I think back to the last time I remember: Ville’s bloody fingers in the kitchen. “… a couple of months maybe? Is it hormones? Am I going through early menopause?”

The doctor’s lips purse and I can tell she is trying not to laugh, which makes me all the more stressed. “No, not at all. Miss, have you considered perhaps you might be pregnant?”

“When were you last sexually active?” she asks.

“Oh, I… um, the day before yesterday.” I admit, embarrassed. She hands me a rectangular package and explains what I need to do. I sit in the bathroom cubicle and pee on the stick. While the results are developing I try to breathe deeply and calmly, I try to distract myself with happy thoughts, thoughts of Finland. Nothing is working. I brave a look at the stick in my hand and see two lines.

Positive.

I am pregnant with Ville’s baby.

I burst into tears. I am in shock and disbelief, I am scared and not sure how to feel at all.

I return to the examination room with puffy eyes and show my doctor the stick. Tears start to roll out of my eyes again.

“Are you okay? How is the relationship with the father?” She asks.

“Great”, I smile through tears. “He’s gentle and he’s loving…” I stare wistfully out of the window.

“Does he want children?” She pries.

“More than anything”, I say, smiling, but continuing to avoid eye contact.

“And you… do you want children?” I turn to look at her, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Yes”, I smile, and continue to cry.

She gives me a hesitant hug to comfort me. “In that case… congratulations!” she smiles. I return her smile, sniffing and dabbing at my eyes with tissue. She prescribes me pregnancy vitamins and gives me advice regarding morning sickness. I am told that I must eat when I get up, to force the sickness away, and to stick to plain and tasteless foods when nauseous. I am given advice about activities to avoid when pregnant.

“You can still have sex, in fact it can help baby to move a little quicker when it is time for them to come out.” She laughs. I smile, and thank the heavens that sex is still on the table, because resisting Ville in his low rise jeans and “fuck me” tattoo is futile. I thank her for the emotional support and am told a midwife will be in touch.

The cold air on my skin is soothing when I step outside. I close my eyes for a moment and let the wind calm me. I walk down the path to Elias’ car and get in: I tell him I’d like to go home and we sit in complete silence. I spend the entire fifty minute journey inside my own head. I think about how Ville will take the news, what having a family will look like… and then I start to panic.

The baby is half vampire.

I shut my eyes and bite into my lips to keep the panic attack at bay. Elias thankfully doesn’t seem to notice. By the time he pulls into the courtyard, I realise the sun has just set and Ville will be awake. I thank Elias for his help today and walk hesitantly to the door. I unlock it and step inside. I can’t see or hear him so I head upstairs. My legs feel like they are made of lead and I again focus on steadying my breathing and taking the staircase step by step. Ville isn’t in his room and I breathe a sigh of relief. I kick off my Doc Martens and release my legs from their prison of skinny jeans.

In nothing but Ville’s KISS shirt and my underwear, I sit on his window ledge and stare out at the sky, wondering what to make of how suddenly and significantly my life has changed. I hear the click of the bedroom door and take a deep, steadying, breath. Here we go…

“Good evening, rakkaani”, he leans in to kiss my forehead gently; the gentle smack of his parted lips warming me. “Did you see the doctor?” My lips part but I cannot speak, frightened of the weight of my words. I look up at him hesitantly and bite my lip so hard it begins to bleed. He leans in to lick my lip and places his hands gently on my shoulders.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He whispers.

I take a long, drawn out breath. “Ville… I’m pregnant.”

His eyes widen, “W-what?” He gasps.

“We’re… w-we’re, um, we… we’re having a baby.” I say, barely audible. He stands and buries his face in his hands.

My heart sinks. He’s upset. He’s disappointed. He doesn’t believe me. He doesn’t want the baby. He’ll ask me to leave. He…

“You have blessed me with the most wonderful gift. You are my everything, rakkaani, I can never repay you for all the love and light you have brought into my life.” He smiles through his tears.

I cup his face with my hands, wiping his little dewdrops with my thumbs, running them through the spikes of stubble. “YOU have blessed ME!” I tell him, grabbing his hand in mine and guiding it to my stomach.

He caresses my very small bump and chuckles, “Hi little one! It’s Daddy!” His grin is bright and infectious, and he giggles like an excited child. “Tell Mama she is perfect, and Daddy is going to marry her”. His eyes move to mine.

“W-what?” I whisper.

“Marry me, rakkaani, I can’t live without you. You are my purpose.” I smile shyly and lean forward…

“Baby says Daddy needs to do better than that. Mummy deserves a grand gesture.” I chide.

He laughs out loud, “Little Love, tell your mother the moon and the stars are hers soon enough.” We both giggle, giddy with excitement. “Now we really do have to go to Finland….” he smiles “…we have to tell my parents.”

I look down, nervous. “I hope they like me”, I whisper.

“How could they not?” He says reassuringly.

“Thanks… Daddy.” I tease.

His face changes and he looks at me sternly and seriously. “NEVER call me that during sex!” His grin returns and I laugh so hard I cry.

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

#ville valo fanfic #VV fanfic #HIM fanfic #ville valo x reader #HIM #VV #heartagram

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slocumjoe · 2 years ago

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companions start a minecraft server. how do they play? who lives with who? who starts a war over their dog dying?

Companions play Minecraft

Cait; hardcore mode speedrunner who looks for increasingly difficult and mindfuck ways to kill the Elder Dragon. Why? Success is a kind of high you'll get from nothing else. Especially when you kill the final boss with nothing but eggs and slime pistons. When playing on Hancock's server, functions as a bodyguard during less-safe builds, like underground, or at the edge of the forest. The first line of defense during a raid. Does busywork for Codsworth in exchange for throwing eggs. Piper built a traditional Irish pub for her to live in and you can occasionally see her just staring at it in wonder. Is the one with the pack of wolves. The town graveyard is filled with her fallen pups. Also has a parrot, just to watch it dance to the pub's jukebox.

Codsworth; Does the busywork around the town Hancock and the others have built. Town is probably called Goodneighbor, let's be real. Tends the farms, the animals, makes food, etc. Does a little bit of everything. Takes care of Curie's zoo, goes fishing with Danse, gives opinions on building materials...pure chilling. Refuses to slaughter farm animals for meat, he's too attached. Fish, bread, and vegetables are on the menu in Goodneighbor. Lives in a quaint little birch cottage by the river, where he keeps flowers, bees, and chickens. All of them have nametags. Second line of defense during a raid—touch his potato fields, and enjoy eggs for your last meal.

Curie; Spends all of her time following and studying the more fantastical creatures, like Endermen. Keeps real notes in a notebook as she plays, theorizing on their biology. Endlessly fascinated with the convergent evolution between Villagers and Pillagers. Will often join Preston's archeology expeditions to discover the lore hints in the environment. Dies a lot, usually has nothing but seeds and dirt in her inventory. Keeps an area filled with specimens in appropriate pens. Puts bounties out for new creatures. Favors the axolotls and fish, though. Lives in the second floor of the zoo's visitor center.

Danse; Minecraft has a powerful aura of sad nostalgia, and I don't think he could handle it. Will help out in Goodneighbor by going and getting materials for building. Enjoys fishing more than anything, though. Gets very attached to his orange cat that sits on his bed. His dirt hut is on the outskirts of Goodneighbor, but is covered in flowers, paintings, and whatever else decor the others have put up. Nick dyed his cat's collar pink. Accompanies X6 on Curie's specimen bounties. Will sometimes stop moving. Don't worry, he's just enraptured by the music and is enjoying it. Or is being made very sad by it. Same thing, right?

Deacon; Pays money to change his username to look like someone else's every week. Changes to their skin, too, but edited to have sunglasses. Otherwise, Herobrine wannabe. If you don't know what that is, you are too young to be reading this blog. Deacon will make small, uniform tunnels, fill them with oddities like bone and paper. He'll leave structures reminiscent of crosses. He'll use armor stands and elaborate Redstone mechanisms, make it look like someone's watching you from the trees, only for you to step on a hidden pressure plate, and the figure vanishes. Adds to the lore of the world. Has a rainbow wool house filled with so many rabbits, the game crashes when he approaches.

Gage; You think Gage is playing a kids game? He has shit to do. Like pirate it and sell copies for dirt cheap. Not even to make money, he just does it for the principle. The principle of fuck you, I will make as many copies of this shit as I damn well please. Probably has his face hung up in Mojang HQ, with darts stuck in the one good eye. Would play if he could join the side of the Pillagers. Yeah, sure. He could just set villages on fire himself...but where's the community in that?

Hancock; Owns the server. Keeps it on harder difficulties for the challenge, but not so much of a...whatever you call Cait's type of player. Avid builder, Goodneighbor is a massive project recreating Boston. It's not quite 1 to 1, but still damn impressive. But, hey, if Bobby wants to build places from Grognak, that's chill. Doesn't care about aesthetic or accuracy, just wants to relax and let the creative juices flow. Hancock himself lives in a giant mushroom he made out of mushroom blocks, wool, and mycelium. Pet of choice? Mushroom cow, obviously, courtesy of X6.

MacCready; Got sick for a week. Built the entire Ux-Ron galaxy on the other side of the river. Doesn't remember it, was hopped up on Nyquil and chicken broth in hot water. The resident hunter, when he isn't on a grape-chicken-liquid diet. He's good at building, but can get bored quickly. Aim is...frightening. Can kill a chicken across any gulf. Takes the nightshift guard duty to shoot down Phantoms. His house is a crashed UFO. Even got Deacon to do his redstone trickery, so it lights up all blinky when you trigger a plate at the door. Has a parrot for a pet.

Nick; One of the more adventurous ones. Goes off with Preston, X6, and Cait to explore the different biomes. The resident potion master. It's just a puzzlegame, but for cocktails that can make you jump real high. Keeps a garden with various ingredients, often ventures into the Nether for blaze powder and rods. Has a spawner caged up, so he just smacks them through the door. Writes down all potion or poison recipes in an in-game book and quill. The trial-and-error- failed recipes are also listed, so it's 200+ pages long. His potion hut is built like a speakeasy, and he lives in the basement with a black cat. Would fill the place with ravens, if they weren't in the spin-off game. Third line of defense in town—keeps a chest full of splash poisons. Occasionally opens it and stares at them, like he's not sure if he's willing to commit such an act.

Piper; Obsessed with the underwater update. Always diving for treasure and sunken ships and temples. Keeps all of the knickknacks in a chest back at Goodneighbor, not even for use. Piper isn't even an ocean kinda gal in real life, but...it's so pretty! And the dolphins are so cute! Trades resources for water-breathing potions from Nick. Fills out so many maps, keeps them framed on a massive wall on the Goodneighbor docks. Also keeps a book-and-quill with coordinates and traveling notes, it's longer than Nick's recipe book. Lives in an underwater bubble habitat off the coast of Goodneighbor. Keeps a pink dolphin in a massive glass habitat outside.

Preston; Resident archeologist. Excavates ruins and structures to study them. Spent a month in real life sponging up an underwater temple. Even longer digging out an End fortress. Goes into mineshafts and renovates them entirely, puts signs and maps up. Takes X6 most often on his expeditions, has his own wall of land-maps. Preston spends a lot of time studying the builds left in the world and pondering the historical implications. Real theorist over here. He's fascinated with the subtle story telling and clues. The End keeps him up at night. His house is the huge community library. Also keeps books, writes down his notes and theories. Has a llama for traveling. If anything happened to it, would be very distraught.

X6-88; Resident mercenary. Nick accidentally summoned the Wither? There's a baby zombie running around? Deacon's rabbits have broken out the windows, and the server is in legitimate danger if the horde grows any larger? Get X6-88. Appears with a clap of thunder on his black warhorse, wielding only the most enchanted of weapons, wearing the most enchanted of armor. He does all the hard, dangerous work. Clears out the Nether, the End, Dark Forests, Pillager encampments...X6 is the hard hitter that goes out into danger, whereas Cait stays behind to defend. Is the one who leashes animals and painstakingly brings them back to Goodneighbor, occasionally with Danse's help. He lost his mind, looking for pandas for Curie. Keeps one as a pet in his house, which is the castle in the graveyard.

#fo4 #fallout 4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #piper wright #nick valentine #companions react #x6-88 #robert joseph maccready #porter gage #codsworth

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onceazzie · 1 year ago

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so i found a spunky au generator (find it here!) that gave me a slay idea. so, here's some pearleo for yall tumblr folks <3

"For someone who's standing face to face with a gorgon, and is about ten seconds away from being turned to stone and thrown off a cliff, you seem awfully calm," Cleo says, crossing their arms.

The newcomer-- who had introduced herself as Pearl, Pearlescent Moon-- simply shrugs, the movement lifting the large, bluish-purple wings folded across her back. "Well, I'm wearing sunglasses. You can't freeze someone with glasses, can ya?"

"That...is some sort of logic, but it doesn't really work like that."

"Why not?" Pearl smiles. "You can't see my eyes. Neither can the snakes. Problem solved, hm?"

The orange snakes that made up Cleo's hair hissed, not in malice but more in confusion. "Well, even if that were true, I'd easily be able to take your glasses and then freeze you. So make your choice."

"Ouch," Pearl mutters, shifting the bag hanging off of her shoulder before sighing and reaching for her sunglasses. "Fine! Freeze me then. You're mean."

And time seems to stop for a moment, as the woman pulls the sunglasses off her face and shields her face from the sun, before staring right into Cleo's eyes. And usually this would kill her instantly, and she would turn into one of the statues currently lining the edges of the mountaintop, but it didn't, because--

"Heh. Surprise! I am unfreezable!" Pearl grins, spreading her arms and wings, the action toppling one of Cleo's statues over the edge of the cliff. "Oh. Sorry about that."

Except Cleo can't find it in herself to care, not when this-- this being, who surely wasn't human or god or anything in between, was staring at her with what looked like an entire void hiding in the places where her eyes should've been. Stars sparkled within them, glowing and glittering, a whole universe contained within one person.

"Is it the eyes? Damn it, that's why I bring the sunglasses," Pearl huffs, wings curling around her body, a pout growing on her lips, reminiscent of a small, scolded child.

"Who...who even are you?" Cleo finally manages to say, head tilting slightly as Pearl fiddles with her sunglasses. "What are you?"

"Good question. I dunno, I was kinda born like this." Pearl shrugs. "My brother, my twin brother-- he was born as a normal kid, I guess. And then whoops! Weird void baby came right afterwards. It was pretty crazy."

The pieces were starting to fall together, Cleo realises. The bag slung over Pearl's shoulder, the sunglasses.

"They've sent you away, haven't they?" Pearl's shoulders sink as the words leave the gorgon's mouth, only solidifying their assumption. "You've been exiled...like me."

"It's fitting they'd send me here, hmm? Send me to another outcast." Pearl manages a small smile. "But, yeah. That's basically it."

Obviously, the subject what somewhat upsetting for her, so Cleo did what Cleo does.

"Oh, who would've known that the people don't appreciate an eldritch being with stars instead of eyes walking around their neighbourhood?"

Sarcasm.

But, also--

"Well. I know," Cleo says, holding out a hand. "Turns out people also don't appreciate a kid with snakes for hair freezing all the other kids to stone. So, you're safe with me."

Pearl's expression turns from sad to overjoyed in what seems to be a millisecond. "Wait, really?! Can I stay here with you?"

"I mean, if you don't take up too much roo-- hey, what are you doing? Off!"

Pearl didn't seem to hear and only squeezed Cleo harder, arms around her waist, wings covering them both. "Thank you thank you thank you! You're the best gorgon I've ever met!"

"You've met others?"

"No, but I bet you would still be the best if I ever were to meet any others!"

Cleo grunts in acknowledgement, and Pearl quickly lets go of her waist, jumping back with her wings extended, a huge beam on her face.

"I like the flowers in your hair, by the way," she says after a moment, eyes curving into a crescent smile, the stars inside them brightening. "They're really pretty. What kind are they?"

"Oh. Uh, probably...sunflowers, orchids, tulips...that kind of stuff," Cleo mumbles. "I don't really choose what grows there? They kind of just come out of my skull when they feel like it?"

The eldritch being leans in for a closer look, her form looming over Cleo's. It's...slightly intimidating. "That's so cool! I'm really excited about staying with you! We're going to be best friends!"

"No, we're not."

"We are now!"

bonus:

"Hey, Cleo! So I noticed your comfy little cave only has one bed. Mind if we share?"

The thought of sharing a bed with an actual eldritch being, not to mention one with wings that spanned the entirety of Cleo's cave, was much less than appealing to them. Except Pearl was looking at them (or-- at least perceiving them) with a hopeful beam on her face, and suddenly every rational thought left their brain as they sighed loudly. "If you even try to touch me with your wings, I will find some way to turn you to stone and throw you off this mountain."

"Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll hug you to sleep!"

"Don't you dare."

hehe hiii, it's me, azzie again! thanks for sticking around <3 if you have any requests or anything feel free to pop em into ye olde ask box! i'm happy to write for you. if it's for the life series, anyway

#azzie writes!#this was kinda fun ngl #pearlescentmoon #zombiecleo #trafficblr #life series #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #pearleo #moonrot #i might turn this to an au. i probably will turn this into an au

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rr311 · 2 years ago

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Hi there! I would like to Request a Kunigami Rensuke x Cute! Short! Black! Reader. They go to a festival together for their date in yukatas. They play festival games, get food and other cute/wholesome thing you can think of [Love your head cannon of Bachira, Isagi, Kunigami and Reo btw]💗 You are also free to request a story from me anytime.

╭﹐❣︎﹕ Festival Date ﹒〣 ﹕‹𝟹 － 𝖪𝖴𝖭𝖨𝖦𝖠𝖪𝖨 𝖱．

cw/tw. fluff, soft!kunigami, black!reader, short!reader

an. i literally love you oml 😭 I’m super happy you loved the head cannons i came up with! I’m sorry if i didn’t do good with this, it’s my first time doing a request so i hope you enjoy! I also just took the festival scene from TR since I've never been so I hope I didn't mess up anything, but I hope you like this 💕

“Just give me a few more minutes and i’ll be done.” From the door you heard him groan loudly with a slight whine, “(Y/N), you’ve said that 10 minutes ago!” You rolled your eyes, placing the last flower in your hair. “I’m almost done, I swear this time.“ You heard him murmured under his breath with a huff, he swore if there was an award of the longest women to take to get ready he would’ve given it to you with no hesitation! Every time you guys go out you’re always the one to take the longest to get ready, he was blessed that you had braids in to shorten the time but dear god when you have your natural hair? You guys wouldn’t be leaving the house till an hour later of the time you guys planned to leave.

After fixing your lip gloss, you turned around and turned off the light making your way towards Kunigami who had his arms crossed leaning against the door frame staring down at you, “You finally ready shorty?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, pushing past him to grab your shoes. “Yes you impatient baby,” You heard him chuckle, feeling his presence behind you, turning around to look up at him with a raised brow. “What?” He leaned down towards your height with a grin on his face, lifting his hand to cup your cheeks pulling you towards him, feeling his breath hit your nose. “You’re just so damn cute,” He mumbled, leaning to connect your lips with his. With no hesitation you kissed him back placing your hand on his cheek,

The way this boy has you wrapped around his finger makes you have butterflies in your stomach. Anything he does makes you form butterflies, he’s so sweet to you and kind— he even changed his training schedule to fit in time for you both to spend time together! Kunigami may look hella intimidating to others but to you he’s the sweetest person you’ve ever met, you’re happy with him and he’s happy with you.

You hummed into the kiss pulling back, staring up into his orange eyes with a small smile on your face, “Your lips are glossy.” He raised a brow, bringing his hand to swipe his thumb over his lips to see he indeed has some of your lip gloss on his lips, he hummed. “Hmm..well then at-least these guys will know who you belong too.” He grinned, rolling your eyes with a slight giggle. “So protective.” He chuckled, “Damn right i am, now let’s go we’re already an hour late from the original time we agreed to leave because a little someone had to do a lot of extra stuff,” See now that was just wrong, he ain’t have to be so specific about it, you scoffed pushing his face away from yours,

“Oh whatever, you better cmon on before i take longer,”

Reference Hair & Yukata:

Everything at the festival was really beautiful. When you and Kunigami got there you were met with bright lights and different booths that sell different types of stuff, you saw many different games, and many different foods you didn’t know where to start first. Your eyes were bright as you looked at everything in awe, you held onto Kunigami’s hand as you both were walking around to find the first thing you wanted to do. Your eyes scanned every booth till it stopped at one that made you pull the taller over to the booth, “Damn (Y/N)! For your height you sure are strong.” You grumbled rolling your eyes, continuing to walk him over to the booth you saw,

“What booth are we going to anyways?” He questioned, glad he asked. As soon as he questioned you stopped in front of the booth that held many different fishes in tanks with excitement in your eyes, as soon as you turned around to ask Kuni if you guys could win one he was already about to walk away before you tighten your grip on his hand, “Kuni! Don’t you dare walk away.” He groaned in response, staring down at you with a ‘Are you serious look.’ “Really (Y/N)? You want a fish..?” You nodded your head without hesitation, of course you wanted a fish like look at em! They were so stupid looking with their all black beady eyes and small mouths it was cute, “I walked over here for a reason didn’t i? Let’s get a fish and name it Gilbert!” You said turning back around to look at all the different fishes that swam around the tanks.

From behind you, you heard him grumble under his breath with an ‘Oh my god’ walking to stand next to you, just from looking at the game you guess you just have to throw a ring into one of the fish bowls to win a live fish? Seems pretty easy, your goal was set on getting the little gold fish that was just chilling on the side. You were gonna get him no matter what, Kunigami gave the vendor the amount of yen to play the game, receiving three blue rings. He picked one up, threw it, ended up missing, threw the second one, and missed. You watched seeing how frustrated he was getting from missing those two shots, you giggled walking in front of him picking up the last ring, “Here, let me try.” You threw the last ring, aiming for a red bowl making the ring inside. Kunigami felt his eyes twitch slightly as you smiled, “Can I have the little gold fish over on the side?” You asked, the man nodded his head with a smile of his own, going over to the tank to scoop out the little guy putting him in a plastic bag, handing him to you.

You know getting excited over a fish is kinda stupid and childish but you absolutely loved animals you couldn’t help but let your inner childhood run free for once and awhile. You pulled the plastic bag close to your face to get a good look at him, seeing he was already floating there staring at you with big black beady eyes. “He’s so tiny and cute.” You said to Kunigami, who shook his head with a grin seeing your inner childhood run free. “Aww look, he’s as tiny as you are— Ouch!” He hissed, feeling your foot come in contact with his shin, “Shut it.” You stated waking off to go to another game. He huffed, but followed close beside you with a slight limp as you scanned for other things to do.

The night went on smoothly as he planned. You guys were pretty much at the festival for a good awhile now, after winning Gilbert you both walked to more games you found interesting to play. In some games you guys lost (All of them) But they were still fun! As long as you guys were together and enjoying each other that’s all that matters— to you of course but him? He’s not leaving till he wins you one of the stuffed animals, he just couldn’t! He knows how much you love stuffed animals. I mean your bed is smoldered with a bunch of em! The last game you guys discovered was a gun game, where you shoot the bullet to the cup and if it knocks over you win a prize.

Easy enough.

Paying the guy the price of yen for the game, he leaned down onto the table, placing his elbows on the surface lining up his shot with the cup. He had one eye closed and the other open to see where he had to shoot, when he felt like he had it perfect he pressed down onto the trigger shooting the rubber bullet, hitting the cup which easily got knocked over. He smiled to himself standing up to receive a (Y/F/A) stuffed animal, bowing as he said thank you and then turning around to see that joyful smile on your face handing it to you, “Thank you my love, but you know you didn’t have to win me one,” He shrugged, taking Gilbert out of your hands so you could hold the stuff animal, “I did say i wasn’t leaving till i won you one right?” You grinned, shaking your head, “Yeah yeah, whatever.”

The night continued with laughs and jokes, as you guys decided to get some food finally. You had Yakitori (Grilled Chicken) and Taiyaki as Kunigami had Yakisoba and Takoyaki. You would say this is the best food you’ve ever eaten, you felt as if you were in food heaven when you tasted the food hit your taste buds. You had almost gone back to get more! But of course Kunigami had to stop from doing that before you go overboard with spending your money. When finishing up your guy's food, Kunigami had led you to one of the hills that had a perfect view of the night sky. The stars were out and blooming and you being a star gazer easily got lost into them,

Seeing you so focused on the stars he felt himself start to fall back in love with you again. He was such a lovesick teenage boy he didn’t know what to do, he’s lucky to have you in his life. You’re always there for him, with him for his hard days, taking care of him when he’s sick, everything. He was so deeply in love with you, feeling his stare being set on you, you turned your head to make eye contact with him with furrowed eyebrows with a grin, “What?” You questioned, he softly smiled bringing up his hand to be placed on your cheek, “You’re so beautiful you know that?” Your heart fluttered upon hearing his words feeling the butterflies start to enter your stomach, “You tell me all the time Ren,” You giggled, he raised a brow leaning more towards your lips, staring at them. “Yeah?” He whispered, nodding your head with a hum.

He closed the gap between the both of you feeling his lips fit perfectly onto yours, smiling into it pulling you closer to him. The kiss wasn’t too rough or aggressive it was gentle and loving, for a few more seconds he was first to pull back leaning his head onto yours staring into your eyes, “I love you so much,” You smiled placing your hand onto his bigger one that was placed on your cheek leaning into it,

“And I love you more.”

#kunigami rensuke #kunigami headcanons #kunigami x reader #short reader #short black reader #black reader #bluelock headcanons #anime x poc!reader #anime x reader #anime x black!reader #anime x you #bluelock x you #bluelock x reader #kunigami x black!reader

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thestraggletag · 2 years ago

Text

The Dinner Guest

Summary: After Belle escapes the clutches of the Evil Queen Rumplestiltskin vows not to waste another opportunity with her. But it turns out Evil Queens are not the only obstacles in the path to true love.

Prompt: time for giving thanks, annoyed.

Added preferences: Charming as a foil for Rumple.

AN: Hi, @spottytonguedog it is I, your Secret Santa! I hope you enjoy this! This December has been crazy what with the heat wave (damn your Southern Hemisphere!), the myriad of birthdays and such and the World Cup (WE WON WE WON WE WON) so I’m sorry this is a couple of hours late (for me, I think it might actually be on time for you). Have fun and Merry Christmas!!!

Rumplestiltskin scanned the trophy room, trying to focus on every single detail at once. The fireplace was roaring, and the torches on the walls provided good ambient light: soft, the soft of light that flattered his scales, if there was such a thing. The tapestries were newly-washed, their tale a particularly fitting one, he felt: a unicorn, chased by hunters with their rabid dogs and saved by a beautiful maiden. He had obtained the tapestries in a deal with some minor king over a hundred years ago, and had forgotten all about them for decades. Belle had despaired over their sad state and had restored them, to the best of her abilities. He had let them gather dust after she had gone, and when he had thought her dead. But now that she was back he wanted them looking their best, if only for the smile it would put in her face.

The table was laid with golden plates and fresh flowers in all the many vases that adorned the centre, with candelabra at a safe distance to add to the ambiance. He had picked her favourite blooms, which had been suspiciously abundant around the castle.

He had also procured the food. Roasted pheasant with vegetables, followed by a palate-cleanser orange-flavoured water-ice and two choices of souffle, raspberry and chocolate. He had had to cash in a favour from a cook, once an undercook in the kitchen of a faraway king with dreams of proving himself and snatching a promotion. Rumplestiltskin had made it so he succeeded- by giving almost everyone else in the kitchen terrible food-poisoning in the eve of a big banquet. He had done it mostly out of boredom, but now he was glad that he had collected that favour.

He, of course, could not be outdone by his own dinner table, so he was dressed in his best attire: dark brown leather pants tucked into polished boots, a soft cream blouse with gold stitching and a gold-and-burgundy vest, the sort he favoured with flaring collars and plunging necklines. He had opted out of a coat of any kind, not wanting to have too many barriers between himself and Belle’s affectionate touches. His only nod to jewellery was the bracelet around his wrist, made from his and Belle’s hair, braided together with his own golden thread.

He had thrown himself into the research on a way to nullify the effects of true love the moment Belle had come back to him, bruised and thin from her enjoyment of Regina’s brand of hospitality but blessedly alive and, surprisingly, willing to give him another chance.

Surely, he reasoned, if there was a way to bottle true love, something that previously people had thought could not be done, true love could also be… blocked. Or its magical effects nullified. He threw himself into his research, wishing to prove himself worthy of Belle’s trust in him.

In the end two strands of their hair, braided along his gold thread and fashioned into bracelets, one for each, was all it took. It was, in many ways, the same alchemical principle that had allowed him to bottle true love, only it contained instead of condensed. He had presented the bracelet to Belle along with a painfully honest recount of what had happened with Bae, how he had spent the past three centuries trying to find his way back to the son he had abandoned in a moment of weakness. He had owed it to her, both to explain why he had to hold onto his power and would not consider giving into their feelings unless he could do that. Not that he expected anything, he told her.

He needn’t have feared she would reject him, or that she would be reluctant to kiss him again, burned by what had happened the first time. She had given him a kiss that night. Fleeting, a tentative brush of her lips against her, standing on tiptoes because she was such a wee thing, no matter how large her presence was in every room she stepped into.

Soon her bravery asserted itself and her exploratory pecks became long, deep kisses. Became late nights in front of a roaring fire, laying boneless in the settee she usually liked to lounge and read in, with her practically on top of him, tilting her head this way and that way, seeking out the angles she liked the most, the pressured and intensity that was had them both in a near constant state of tension.

It was heavenly. Rumplestiltskin was not a man accustomed to touching. He had seldom been touched as a human, and even less in an affectionate way, barring his brief time having Bae around. As the Dark One touch happened much less, both as a personal choice and as an inevitable side effect of being the thing monsters were afraid of. But he was addicted to it now, with the way Belle flung himself into his arms, the way she boldly wrapped her arms around him, tugging at his hair as she slanted her mouth across his, a demanding little thing, seeking her pleasure out of him.

But as much of a delightful little explorer as she was, Belle was also a maiden. A noble lady raised modestly, safe inside the walls of her father’s keep. Her experience with men was constrained to garden parties and galas, and later on, once the ogres began threatening their land, to the soldiers wounded in battle that she would try to tend to, always chaperoned by at least a maid, if not more. Belle was innocent, and as brave as she was with him, there was a limit to what she would do. A lack of knowledge, an honest ignorance of what came after, but the way she moved in his arms, and the noises she made, let him know she felt like him. Unfulfilled. Eager.

He was the one with experience. He should be the one taking the lead, guiding things to the next step, but he was a coward, terrified of a hundred different things. Of being so vulnerable in front of someone else. Of disappointing Belle, or not being enough for her. Of hurting her too, with the way the demon in him burned for her, the way it whispered to him to consume her, to rip the innocence right out of her. No Dark One had ever felt carnal lust, not like this. Not so focused on one single person, so fixated and possessive. He felt that if he ever lost control the curse would swallow Belle up.

So he did what he did best. He ran, telling himself he was protecting her. Doing the right thing, keeping the monster away from the beautiful maiden. But it was a cowardly excuse, and only took him into consideration. Belle deserved better, deserved to choose for herself how far she wanted to go, how she wanted things to be between them.

So he decided to plan a dinner. A slow seduction over music, food and cosy intimacy. A lovely night of romancing where he would press her just as much as she would let him, where he would guide her as far as she wanted to go. He would be brave for her.

The thought of bravery made him go to the wet bar in the corner, picking up a decanter of whiskey and pouring himself a healthy three fingers worth of the amber liquid into a solid crystal snifter, gulping the drink down before helping himself to seconds. As he did he tried to take his mind off things. He needed to be calm, cool and collected and he could do neither of those things if he thought about Belle, soaking in the tub he had set up for her, the water scented with orange blossoms, ready to slip on the lovely dress he had made for her, a magnificent golden confection with a sweeping skirt and, dare he admit it, a rather daring neckline, the colour surely to highlight the peachy shade of her-

Fuck. He needed to get a fucking hold of himself. Three hundred years barely feeling anything for anyone, and now it was as if all that pent-up want was slamming into him at once, turning him into a slobbering animal. Perhaps it would not be such a bad idea to-

A knock interrupted his thoughts, though he thought at first that he might be imagining things. It was a cold winter night, no one who had any sense would even think to be anywhere near the Dark Castle. Yet the knock came again, one followed by another till it became clear that someone was banging rather insistently on his door. Miffed beyond reason and ready to dispatch whoever was stupid enough to interrupt his planned night he yanked the door open, finding what he thought at first might be some overgrown dog drenched by the snowfall that had barely stopped half an hour ago. But once he lit the nearest torch he saw that it wasn’t an animal at all. It was Prince fucking Charming, wet, muddied and looking like sleep was a foreign concept he had never encountered before.

“Do you, by chance, have any peaches?”

What.

The.

Fuck.

“The devil you say?”

Rumplestilskin frowned, sure he had heard Charming wrong and disgruntled at the interruption. The prince was likely there due to some Regina-shaped emergency or some other magical inconvenience that he thought the Dark One could solve because, apparently, fairy godmothers were there for decoration. Couldn’t he spend one evening not babysitting one stupid monarch or the other?

“It’s just… I’ve noticed you have an orchard where the trees seem to be indifferent to the passing of the seasons.”

The pretend prince was right, of course. The orchards inside the Dark Castle grounds always bore fruit. Belle liked fruit, for one. She had been deprived of it for long during the Ogre Wars and later on when she had been captured by the queen. So he made sure the orchards were gripped by a never ending summer, the trees heavy with juicy fruit and the bushes dripping with berries that she could simply pluck and eat as she passed by. Pears, peaches, oranges, tangerines, blackberries and raspberries. Everything except apples.

“I need peaches, and this was the only place I could think of to get them in the middle of winter.”

Yeah, that didn’t really answer any of the questions he currently had. He was about to tell him so, right before he told him to fuck off, but an unexpected and uninvited twinge of pity settle on the pit of his stomach. Charming looked a wreck, truly. Sodden to the bone, looking like he might have torn chunks of hair out of his scalp, with clothing that he seemed to have put on while blindfolded. Like some pathetic, ran down Adonis.

“Just… go stand by the fire. I can barely understand you, the way your teeth are chattering.”

He reluctantly ushered the prince into his home, thinking that he could speed up his recovery with a bit of magic, get quickly to the bottom of whatever fever dream had gripped the idiot and dispatched him back to the loving arms of his white-as-snow bride before Belle had finished arranging her hair. Surely the man would be as eager to be on his way as Rumplestiltskin was to kick him out.

But Charming bypassed the fireplace in the main hall completely, striding deeper into the castle as if he owned it, his steps leading him to the trophy room.

“It smells great in here. And so warm!” The lumbering idiot went straight towards the table laden with food, only making a last-minute detour when he spotted the wet bar.

“Oh, I could use a drink. It’ll warm me right up.”

“So would a fireball to the face.”

His fingers twitched, eager, but Charming was then too close to the dining table, and he could not risk spoiling all his hard work. The boy grabbed the heavy crystal decanter he had poured his own drink from, and the Dark One frowned, uneasy. That whiskey was not ordinary. Alcoholic beverages could not do little to his Dark One physique, so he tended to lace his drinks, making sure Belle knew not to touch certain bottles. That particular decanter was itself enchanter to enhance the potency of whatever drink it contained, and he had been letting that particular whiskey macerate in there for years. It was his “drink in case of emergency emotional breakdown” drink, so to speak.

“Dearie, I don’t think you should-”

He thought he’d have more time to warn him. That, as a prince now, Charming had grown to acquire at least some of the mannerisms of the nobility, like their appreciation of fine liqueurs. But it seemed that you could take a man out of the pigsty but you couldn’t take the pigsty out of a man. Charming downed the drink almost blindly, hardly reacting to the way the alcohol burned its way down his throat. By the time the Dark One could blink, aghast and also a little bit more respectful of Charming, he served himself a new glass, which he drank just as fast as the first one. In an instant he had transported himself next to the man and, in an uncharacteristic act of generosity, yanked the decanter right out of the fool’s greedy hands.

“Let’s try some water for a change, dearie.”

“What about some food? I’m starving.”

The prince’s eyes were already glassy, a clear indicator the whiskey had been as powerful as he’d feared. Otherwise he imagined he would have cowered at the sight of a scowling Dark One, clearly one small comment away from turning him into a snail.

“Oh, everything looks delicious and it looks like you have more than enough. You don’t mind, do you?”

Rumplestiltskin didn’t need to strain himself to catch the way the princeling was beginning to slur, nor pay extra attention to notice how he dropped himself into a chair like a sack of potatoes. With manners that clearly outed him as a person who had grown up in a barn he tore through his carefully-arranged table, casually tearing a leg off the roasted pheasant and piling his plate high with the vegetables, uncaring of the bits that fell to the soft cream tablecloth, staining the fabric a muddy brown.

“Do they not feed you at home, dearie?” He could not even bring himself to be outraged for his ruined efforts, so appalled was he by Charming’s voraciousness. “Does your snowy wife forget to drop the kitchen scraps into your pen at night?”

The princeling mumbled something, made entirely unintelligible by the pheasant drumstick still protruding from the man’s mouth. Rumplestiltskin began to feel that comparing Charming to pigs was an affront to pigs everywhere.

“I just… It’s been a difficult couple of days. Week. Month and a half.”

To his credit he looked like he had had a rough few weeks, his eye-bags alone attesting to sleepless nights and frayed nerves.

“Trouble with the missus?”

Charming had the decency to swallow this time before speaking, going as far as to wash the food down with a long drink of water. At least he was getting hydrated.

“She’s pregnant, as you must know.”

He did, of course. The future saviour was swimming about in Snow’s tummy as they spoke, right on schedule. A blonde, blue-eyed little thing, if the glimpses he caught of the future, fleeting as they were, proved true. More like her father than her mother in looks.

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, it… It hasn’t been easy. She’s been so dreadfully sick, so of course I can’t sleep knowing that she’s suffering so. We’ve been trying to find things she can keep down, or things she’ll be tempted to eat, but it’s never something that we have readily available. It’s either some spiced sauce from Agrabah or a very rare mushroom growing atop the Forbidding Mountains, or, in this case-”

“Peaches. In winter.”

Snow White was rarely the stereotype of a spoiled princess nowadays, after her rough living as an outlaw and a bandit, but pregnancy had apparently brought the haughty royal in her. At least when it came to her pregnancy cravings.

“Yes. I was going mad, tried everywhere to find some, until I remembered about your orchards.”

Desperation did strange things to people. In the case of Charming, it seemed to have made him reckless beyond reason. He could not detect an iota of fear in the man as he continued to grab chunks of the now poorly-looking pheasant and serve himself helpings of every side dish.

“There are some hot bread rolls in the basket with the red napkin, if you want some help cleaning out your plate.”

“Oh, that would be lovely!”

Clearly Charming was beyond sarcasm too. That was going to be a problem.

“Rumple, are we having company?”

Rumplestiltskin stood stock still for a second, wishing that he had misheard. But it wasn’t meant to be, judging by the way Charming’s attention focused on something behind him, the man doing what looked like a halfway decent attempt at looking semi-sober, though he wobbled when he stood to bow.

“Greetings, my Lady. Sorry, I didn’t know there was anyone else here.”

He tried to straighten up, but he wasn’t sober enough for it, stumbling almost into Rumplestiltskin’s arms. The Dark One turned around, immediately relieved upon realising that Belle had not put on her gold dress but rather one of the winter frocks he had made for her, the fabric a soft lavender that complimented her hair and skin. If Charming had seen her in the gold dress, he would have had to kill him.

“It’s no trouble. I’m Belle, nice to meet you.”

The idiotic shepherd took a few steps forward, stumbling less than he should have, given his state, and bowed rather dashingly, crumpled wet cape and all. Damn his natural charisma, he wondered if he could bottle it somehow. Would likely come in handy for one of his deals. Luckily, Belle did not seem taken in by it, though she remained cautiously welcoming.

“I seemed to hear you need… peaches?”

Relief rolled off Charming’s shoulders as he directed his sheepdog puppy-eyed stare at Belle, having obviously decided she was the answer to his prayers.

“Yes, my lady. For my wife. She’s pregnant, you see, and has strong cravings. I’ve been looking everywhere for peaches but it’s not the season for them. This is my last hope.”

He smiled at Belle, looking so insufferably lost and needy that Rumplestilskin almost reconsidered that fireball he had nixed earlier.

“Oh, you poor dear. I’ll go get some peaches, it’ll only take a few minutes. Rumple will look after you till I get back.”

The moment Belle was out of the room, going towards the kitchen to access the orchard quicker, Charming’s expression changed, a roguish smile taking over his features before he slapped him hard on the back.

“What the fuck?”

“You old dog!” His slurring got more pronounced now that there were no ladies present to impress. A sort of strange joviality took over the man, erasing some of the tiredness from his face. “I didn’t know you had company. Lovely company at that.”

It was a testament to how endearing the idiot was that he could call Belle lovely and not have it be perceived by Rumple as a declaration of war. But the poor sod was besotted with his whiter-than-snow wife, and too goody-two-shoes to even glance at another woman in that way.

“Belle is…”

Charming made a sound of encouragement, pouring him a glass of the damned whiskey and prompting him to sit down beside him and share a bit of himself.

“She’s a flicker of light, am I right? Your flicker of light?”

The pretend prince nudged him on the side and wagged his eyebrows, in what appeared to be some male-bonding gesture of some kind. He hated that he didn’t hate it.

“Yes.”

“I thought you said… I mean, you said she was dead.”

Damn the man for lowering his voice in concern.

“I thought she was. Regina told me she was. Turns out she had her. Imprisoned her in a tower, a chess piece to be used if there was ever need of it.”

“Then I’m surprised Regina is still alive.”

There was something about the way that Charming said it, with a hint of harshness and a twinge of regret, that surprised the Dark One. The man was sad he hadn’t offed Regina, apparently. Then again, Charming of all people understood what it was to have your true love threatened by the likes of the Evil Queen.

“Belle doesn’t want me to kill her.”

It still irked him, even though he would not have killed Regina either way, needing her as he did for the curse to be cast. But he disliked that Belle had adamantly told him not to retaliate in any way.

“Can’t even maim her a bit. Unfair.”

Charming patted him on the back with a bit more gusto perhaps than he would have done sober.

“That’s tough.” He put on an understanding smile, unbearable in its sincerity. “Women, right? Can’t live with them, can’t live without ‘em.”

“I could live without you, dearie, so touch me again at your own peril.”

The shepherd raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, but he did not seem afraid at all by his very grave warning. Instead he leaned over, smelling strongly of spirits and pheasant, and whispered to him.

“So, old boy, how are things going with this Belle of yours?”

For the umpteenth time in the past half an hour Rumplestilskin wondered how necessary Charming really was to his future plans, the saviour having already been conceived and all.

“Where the hell is that girl with those damned peaches?!”

Belle found him around half an hour after he had managed to send a still-drunk Charming on his way with a basket of perfect peaches, moodily sitting down on the bearskin rug in front of the fire and staring into the flames and thinking about how his carefully-planned dinner had gone up in smoke.

“Your sulking is keeping me awake.”

He grumbled, fighting the urge to grab the throw from the settee and hide himself underneath it. It would be beneath his dignity as a Dark One, but it was very tempting all the same. He had chucked off his vest and boots, and had magically cleared the table. No use pretending their cosy little dinner was going to happen.

“Just a few more thunderclaps and I’ll let the storm move on.”

As if on cue lightning split the sky outside, a crashing sound accompanying soon after, satisfying in its intensity.

“Is the prince at least out of range of your temper-tantrum?”

He smiled half-heartedly.

“Where do you think the storm’s going?”

He heard Belle tut behind him, but he could tell, without having to look at her, that she was at least partly amused by the whole thing. When she finally entered his line of vision she was holding a tray containing the two souffles, which had been blissfully waiting in the kitchen for them to finish the dinner that never happened. Charming hadn’t gotten his greedy little hands on them.

“Come, I don’t think these will keep. Might as well eat them now.”

She handed him a spoon, keeping the other one she had for herself. There were no serving bowls, but his prim little former-servant did not seem to mind, grabbing a bite right out of the souffle, unbothered by the notion of eating out of the same place as the Dark One.

He grabbed the spoon and sunk it deep into the chocolate souffle, humming in appreciation once the rich taste of chocolate exploded on his tongue. Fuck, it was good. Next to him Belle moaned as she savoured a mouthful of the raspberry dessert, which left him enchanted. That favour had been well worth the deal.

They ate in companionable silence, the dessert and quiet company doing a lot to smooth out his anger and frustration. Fucking Charming and his inopportune timing and sleep-depriveness. Damn his complete refusal to be cowed by his power and his dark and well-earned reputation.

“It was lovely, by the way, the dinner. Or what I got to see and smell of it. And the dress, it’s beautiful. I look forward to wearing it some other time.”

He glanced at her, noticing now that her hair was down and loosely braided for bed, her cotton nightgown peeking from beneath the soft blue shawl she had draped over herself. It was endearing, the braids making her look younger than she was, the whole scene, down to her bare toes, incredibly domestic. He was suddenly struck by how intimate it was, to see her so unbound, so free. He reached out, unable to deny himself, and gently ran a finger through the nearest braid, catching his claw on the ribbon she had secured at the end of it. He tugged, taking the piece of silk with him, watching as Belle’s curls struggled to assert themselves as the braid dissolved.

“You smell nice.”

She smelt like she always did, a heady mixture of lavender, iris and vanilla, but it was more concentrated then, turning his head. He could finally feel the effects of the whiskey that he took, a loosening up of mind and body, not strong enough to leave him as senseless as Charming had been, but enough to lessen the fear that bubbled up whenever he was too close to Belle, quieting down the part of him that urged him to flee. Feeling rather content he leaned close, nosing the side of her neck, seeking out more of that lovely scent. He felt her tilt her head to a side in voiceless approval, letting his mouth trail up and down her soft skin, ghosting over the shell of her ear and down towards her shoulder.

“That’s nice.”

Her voice was unnaturally low, like he imagined she would sound when she woke up in the morning, and it made heat pool low in his belly.

“Rumple,” she sighed, sounding a bit drunk herself, her hands letting go of the shawl so it fell to the floor between them. He tasted a flicker of desperation in the air, heady in the knowledge that it came from her.

“What do you want, dearie?”

The demon in him purred, recognising the siren song of a desperate soul, eager to give up anything for the thing they wanted the most.

“Kiss me, Rumple.”

It took less than a second for his lips to be on hers, and even less for her mouth to open to his. He groaned, pressing her body firmly against the solid wall of books behind her, feeling every curve of her body against his own, and it was both a relief and a source of the most acute pain imaginable. She tasted like the raspberry sauce of the cheesecake they served at Granny's, and he immediately had a new favourite dessert. He lapped at her, his tongue darting up the roof of her mouth and exploring every hidden crevice, lingering on those spots that made her moan and arch against him.

"Sweetheart", he growled into her mouth, the word affectionate but the tone inhuman, almost angry. Belle felt one of his hands fist into her hair and the other slide from her hip to her upper left thigh, sneaking under her billowing nightgown and tracing the skin there with the lightest of touches. Her whole body jerked in response, her hands going around his shoulders and slipping into the collar of his shirt, caressing the nape of his neck with her fingernails in a way she knew drove him mad. She loved her independence, and their slow courtship full of new things they learned about each other and tiny baby steps towards a mature and unique understanding of one another, but ever since Rumplestiltskin had first kissed the back of her hand she'd understood that, for them to go slowly and do it right, there needed to be a form of release, or else a strange sort of tension followed them around everywhere. The deeper their emotional intimacy went the more she needed their physical release to be, and she knew he felt the same, except he kept running from her at the worst possible time. But he wasn’t running now.

"Rum," Belle's words were slurred, and her accent, usually unnoticeable, was heavy. It drove the Dark One wild to know she wanted him as much as he did her, that he might not be the only one daydreaming of the scent of books during the day and tossing and turning at night, eager for a warm body that wasn't there. He struggled to remember why he had shied away from her so, from what they clearly both really needed. He could be gentle for her, could be kind and soft and make her feel nothing but pleasure.

His thoughts halted to a stop when he felt her tongue in his mouth and he dimly wondered how she had gotten his own tongue to retreat from inside her wet heat. He felt her sigh and clutch him closer, her legs hitching around his hips, which made him thrust against her almost involuntarily. He was half about to apologise before he felt her nails scratch down his back, exquisitely painful even with the fabric of his shirt between them.

“That felt amazing. Do it again.”

"Oh, Gods, Belle!" he parted his lips from her with an agonised moan, his eyes black as they regarded her, from her dishevelled hair to her swollen lips and pleading eyes. The goddess who had been so defiant and brave in her golden gown, and resolute in her pretty blue dress was now vulnerable and open in his arms, unabashedly encouraging the touches of a monster. He went for her throat, using more teeth and tongue than anything to sate himself as well as her. Her hips ground against his, reminding him of the unfulfilled ache that drove his pelvis to find a common rhythm with hers.

"Yes, yes!" she hissed into his ear, bracing herself on his shoulders "Please, Rum, please, don't stop."

He laughed against the crook of her neck, the mere idea of him being able, let alone willing, to stop seeming completely ridiculous. But with her assurances as to what she wanted he allowed one of his hands to delve between their bodies, slipping past the now wet silk of her undergarments and into her welcoming heat. Her nails dug painfully into his shoulders in response and he marvelled at how much he liked it when she hurt him.

“This isn’t too much, right? This is what you want?”

He felt close to snapping, the thread that held him together frayed to an impossible degree but he needed her reassurance that she was alright, that this was alright.

“Yes.” The way she said it, so emphatic that she almost sounded exasperated by his questioning, made the imp inside him grin, victorious. Of course she wanted this. He could fucking taste how much.

"Hush, sweetheart, all is well. I've got you, I promise," he crooned into her skin, rubbing his cheek against her chest soothingly. She whimpered, her breathing harsh and quick. "Tell me to stop and I will. I will."

He felt her fingers in his hair, soothingly stroking his scalp and raised his eyes to see her staring at him with an open, tender expression.

"I trust you." She raised her head to brush her lips against his. "I'll always trust you."

She was a marvel, one of a kind. In three hundred years he had encountered no one quite like her, willing to place their lives in his hands without a deal in place to ensure their safety. For all she knew he could still be thinking of tearing her heart from her chest at any point in time, yet she let his hands shred the fabric of her nightgown with nary a protest, throwing her head back, uncaring of her vulnerability. As he peeled the garment off of her inch by inch he let his lips and tongue explore the new skin revealed to him, each inch softer than the one before. He could feel her fidget in her newfound nudity, unaccustomed to being so bare and vulnerable before him. But she made no move to cover herself, so completely trusting she was. So brave.

He parted his lips, catching a rosy nipple gently between his teeth before closing his mouth around it and suckling. He let the tip of his tongue play with the tip of her nipple before he released it with a soft pop, taking his time to scrape his teeth against the path between her breasts before mouthing the other one. Faintly he could feel her slim hands pawing at the fastenings of his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one until he felt it open completely, allowing him to simply shrug the garment off. Far from being displeased at the swath of green-gold skin revealed, Belle's eyes devoured him, her fingers reverently caressing his arms and shoulders before venturing down his chest. There was no revulsion in her eyes as he drank him in, only wonder and increasing confidence as he half-shuddered, half-purred under her ministrations.

"You're... textured.” Her voice revealed her wonder, her utter fascination with him. “And so warm…”

She lifted her upper body enough to plant a soft kiss on the centre of his chest, one of her thumbs softly grazing a nipple and it was enough to snap him out of whatever stupor her touch had put him under. He pinned her down in a heartbeat, ripping the rest of her clothes away from her, desperate and crazed. She responded eagerly if a bit shyly, breathing heavily as his eyes took in every single inch of her skin, gaze lingering on the patch of curls that covered her sex. She was exquisite, even if her body still showed the faint reminders of her recent imprisonment in the way her ribs protruded a bit much.

"You're perfect," he stroked her thighs delicately, waiting patiently for her to part them open for him "So good. Too good. For me, for anyone."

His patience was rewarded when the muscles of her legs loosened up and she allowed him to settle between her legs. He continued to slide his claws up and down her thighs as he lowered his head to kiss just below her bellybutton, rubbing his nose delicately against the skin there, grunting when her hands fisted on his hair, tugging at it sharply, the sensation going straight to his cock. She directed his head back towards her left breast, letting the most exquisite little cries when he immediately started lapping at it, circling the hardened tip without actually touching it. He cupped her between her legs, wanting her to get used to his touch there, rubbing slowly, soothingly.

Carefully, minding his sharp claws, the imp sought her opening and slid two fingers inside, trying not to notice how hot and tight she was, lest he lose control. She squirmed beneath him, not rejecting but adjusting and he forced himself to let her set the pace. It seemed like a lifetime before he felt her gently thrust against his hand, small, exploratory movements that he sought to respond, trying to set a rhythm that would please her. He tilted his head to the side, mesmerised as he read her face like it was an open book. There were no barriers between them, this Belle in his arms was all, she kept nothing from him. It was almost terrifying.

"R-R-Rumplestilt...skin," she panted, a pleading note in her voice. He obliged her by thrusting his fingers deeper inside her, curling them slightly till she nearly sobbed.

"I don't want your fingers, I want... I want..."

He didn't need her to finish. A bit of magic had him out of his leathers in no time and he adjusted his body over hers quickly, his clawed hands coming to gently grip her hips. He entered her in one swift stroke, feeling for the briefest of moments the resistance of the barrier that marked her as a virgin. He entwined the fingers of both his hands with hers, pressing their joined hands together above her head. Whatever happened in the future he would forever be her first. He committed the moment to memory, from the feel of her heat around his member to the dazed, needy look in her eyes. He was hers, had been for a long time, and now, for a few minutes at least, she'd be his in return.

"Say my name", he coaxed, placing an open-mouthed kiss on the base of her throat as he finally moved within her, pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward again.

"Rumple, Rumple, Rumple..." she cried out when he managed to hit a particularly sensitive spot "My Rumple."

“My Belle.”

He encouraged her to wrap her legs around his waist, groaning in relief when the new position allowed him to plunge deeper into her. It took but a few more strokes to make her come, feeling her teeth sink into the base of his throat to muffle her cries. The ferocity of the gesture drove him over the edge, his orgasm surprising him in its almost uncomfortable intensity. He made sure to keep their bodies joined as he lowered them both onto the rug on the floor, twining himself around the brunette, softly stroking her back, tender in the aftercare. Once they both got their bearings he would draw her another bath, one with soothing salves and scents and would start thinking about some other reason to have her wear her pretty golden gown.

He would also start looking into Charming-proofing the castle wards.

#rumbelle secret santa #spottytonguedog #rumbelle fic #rumbelle

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13meigo · 2 years ago

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A snakes plaything | Fifth year || Sebastian Sallow

Chapter 15 | Feldcroft + Visuals

When Ominis got up and went to Sebastian's bed to wake him, he grabbed Violetta. The poor boy had no idea what was going on. Well, at least he couldn't see the embarrassment on Sebastian's and her face. Both of them were naked since they left their clothes to dry near the small oven in the center of the room.

After some very vague explanations for Ominis, Violetta managed to somehow sneak undetected with a disillusioned spell out of the Slytherin common room. Luckily Sebastian opened the door and she hurried with them to breakfast.

This troubled night was now some weeks past and had school started again. The weather got warmer and the snow started to melt, making a place for all the beautiful flowers to grow and bloom. The spring also got to someone's head too. Ever since the sun started to shine more and more, professor Garlick went even crazier about her plants.

Violetta was standing at a table next to Poppy in herbology. The venomous tentacula next to her reached her tendrils in Violetta's direction. She slowly tried to back off pushing Poppy further toward the edge of the table.

Professor Garlick entered the greenhouse. She had put pink and yellow flowers on her hat. Did she look happier than ever, well did this woman ever have a bad day?

'Class, we have today a very special day!' A mumbling when through the students. 'We are doing excursions! Together with Madam Kogawa, we decide to test your knowledge in flying and in plants.' The professor fluted while petting a plant with giant blue leaves. Violetta looked at Poppy, who was really excited. Violetta also noticed Sebastian looking at her with a smirk. She rolled her eyes at his pathetic attempt to gain her attention. Ever since she made a not-so-elegant appearance in the Slytherin common room and her hot and steamy night with Sebastian, he swirled around her like a bee around a flower. He had been way more alert about her and gave her so much attention that it even confused her at first. It was so unnatural from him but maybe he truly meant his whispered words.

'You will be put in pairs and you will have the whole day time to search for plants in some areas around Hogwarts and its lands. Every pair will get a very specific map and herbology card of this plant.' Professor Garlick pulled out a stack of old parchment papers from her giant basket. She flipped her finger through it and smiled. Violetta never saw someone be so happy about some plants.

'I will put now the pairs together! Prewett and Oggspire.' Nellie and Leander walked towards the professor and she handed them a paper. Both looked at it with confused faces. Violetta sneaked away from the table and looked at their paper. The herbology page showed a green plant with orange blossoms that looked like a cat's face.

'Chinese tiger leave?' Violetta said and tilted her head.

'At least it's not far away.' Nellie said and showed Violetta her paper. By now a small crowd of students formed around them.

'It's apparently around Aranshire.' She said and pointed at the marked area.

'Gaunt and Everleigh.' Professor Garlick's voice echoed through the greenhouse. Violetta looked over to Ominis who stood next to Sebastian and some other Slytherin.

Oh, Ominis really disliked Lenora. His face turned from neutral to pissed off. She heard the Slytherins laugh. Sebastian laughed the loudest and his deep chuckled made her brain melt a bit. Damn, he really had her wrapped around his finger.

'I'll be damned!' Violetta heard Ominis curse under his breath and even she couldn't hide her amusement and snorted at his reaction. Ominis stopped and tilted his head in Violetta's direction. Well, he for sure heard it. Ominis continued walking to the professor.

More and more people got paired until only some were left. The other classmates already had their brooms and were on their way.

'Ainsworth and Sallow.' Violetta's heart made a jump. Violetta stood next to Amit and looked at Sebastian who sat next to Violet McDowell. The Slytherin squinted her eyes at Violetta.

Oh, she was one of the girls that were always starting rumors about her. Violetta didn't like her at all and she knew that McDowell had a crush on Sebastian, well who hasn't?

Sebastian was indeed good-looking, charming, and knew his way around girls. Violetta smiled at the thought that none of them knew what was going on between Sebastian and her. Maybe Ominis but he wasn't any threat to them. Sometimes tho his kind character made her feel so appreciated and even gave her butterflies. Butterflies?

'Here.' Professor Garlick said and handed Sebastian and her the papers and a basket. Violetta and Sebastian walked out of the greenhouse and Violetta gave Violet a death glare before exiting.

'I saw that.' Sebastian laughed and Violetta looked at him innocently.

'I don't know what you mean!' She said with a smirk. 'What are we searching for by the way?' They stopped and looked at the herbology card. It showed a picture of a flower with long velvety leaves and blossoms with petals that looked like snowflakes. It was called an arctic lover's plant.

Sebastian's eyes widened in surprise and happiness.

'I know that! My sister loved to pick those when we were small. In which area are we?' Sebastian spoke with anticipation. Violetta showed her page.

Feldcroft.

'It grows right behind my uncle's house! We can visit my sister!' Sebastian said with happiness and hugged Violetta suddenly. 'I need to introduce you guys to each other! You will like each other for sure!' With those words, he released her and ran toward the bell tower to the Hogwarts grounds where Madam Kogawa waited for them.

Feldcroft was a beautiful area just in the shadow of the giant ruins of a castle. The region was surrounded by the coast and the wide blue ocean. It was mostly fields and small cottages.

Violetta flew after Sebastian. The sun was shining but the winds blew cold into their faces. Violetta even changed into a pair of pants. The winds blew into her hair while they slowly lowered their brooms.

Sebastian pointed at some houses in the distance. Violetta nodded and followed him towards the little hamlet. The houses came closer and closer until Sebastian killed the speed. Violetta saw the plants they were searching for all around the cottages. There were some houses and in the center was a well. Sebastian landed followed by Violetta. The sweet smell of flowers filled her nose and she looked around. She put her broom next to Sebastian's against the well. Violetta looked around and saw him walking to a house.

'Hey, where are you going?' She asked confused. Sebastian turned around and looked at her slightly... annoyed? Violetta didn't know this side of him yet.

'I am just going to my sister. She lives here with my uncle.' He said and continued walking towards the house.

'Wait for me!' Violetta spoke and hurried after him. With every step, she took closer to the house the more she felt that something was off. She felt this electricity in the air. Ancient magic.

Sebastian entered the door and when they walked in he walked with fast steps toward a girl sitting at a table. He pinched her in the sides and she jumped up with a laugh. Somehow this made Violetta so... jealous. She just stood silently next to the door and watched them hug and talk. Those traces of ancient magic swirled around her like flies. Violetta felt that those energies couldn't be controlled by her. They didn't belong to her. Yet.

Sebastian's sister, Anne released the hug and smiled at him until Violetta caught her attention.

'Oh! You must be Violetta. My brother wrote so much about you!' Anne spoke with a soft voice. Her face was pale and her eyes dark. The curse really got her in a chokehold. Violetta stepped toward her and held her hand in Anne's direction. Anne smiled and took Violetta's hand. Her handshake was weak but yet her hands were so warm. Sebastian was watching the two girls like a hawk.

'And you must be Anne.' Violetta spoke, releasing her hand. Out of Violeta's peripheral vision, she saw the traces of ancient magic starting to glow. Something was about to happen. Violetta breathed in and instinctively took a step back. The traces of ancient magic shot toward Anne's body and a pained shriek filled the house. Anne dropped to her feet and clutched her stomach. Sebastian bowed down to her and consoled her. Violetta backed off into a shelf causing some things to fall out of it. With a loud crash a picture shattered on the floor.

The door flew open and a middle-aged man hurried inside, pulling Sebastian off his sister.

'Sebastian!' He cursed and held Sebastian by the shoulder. 'I told you that you are not allowed to introduce new people to her! Every notion could cause the curse to hurt her more!'

'I maybe found a cure to her curse!' Sebastian replied angrily and shook his uncle's hand off him.

'There is no cure for your sister!' His uncle Solomon yelled. 'When will you learn!' Sebastian's face twisted with anger and he stormed out of the small cottage. Anne looked at her uncle and Violetta bowed down to grab the broken picture. She picked it up and turned it around, expecting a picture of Sebastian and his family but to her surprise, it was a female with white hair. Violetta tried to put the picture silently back on the shelf when she stopped. She had seen this woman before.

Violetta looked at the picture again and recognized the woman. It was the one from the portrait!

'I am sorry to cause such a disturbance but who is this?' Violetta spoke, causing Solomon Sallow to curse.

'Damnit!' He turned around, earning a laugh from Anne. 'I didn't even know Sebastian brought a visitor with him.' Violetta handed him the picture. Solomon looked at the broken frame and smiled painfully.

'Sebastian's father, Alfred, and I had a sister, Ruth Sallow. She was the youngest of us three. One day, she just disappeared.' He said.

'I am sorry for your loss.' Violetta said softly. Solomon looked at her and his sad face turned into anger.

'Why am I even telling you this? Out of my house now!' He rumbled at the confused Violetta. Even Anne was surprised by his hostility against her. 'Tell Sebastian that his cure is non-existent!' Violetta scurried past him and ran out of the cottage. She felt Anne's sad eyes on her back.

Ruth Sallow, who was she really?

Why did the ancient magic lead Violetta to her?

Ruth Sallow

If you enjoy the content please leave a vote, add it to your library, and follow to not miss any updates! xx Meigo

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mjrnl · 5 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐈𝐈𝐈

SUMMARY: In the picturesque town of Esmeralda, Italy, a homeless girl named Fioria survives alone on the streets. Her life takes a turn when she discovers an abandoned castle hidden deep in the woods. Within its crumbling walls, she finds rare and beautiful Smeraldo flowers, which become her lifeline. However, as she tends to the flowers, Fioria stumbles upon a revelation that changes everything—an unexpected encounter with a mysterious boy with a mask. This serendipitous meeting intertwines their fates, revealing a past filled with pain, hope, and a bond that blossoms like the flowers she cherishes.

GENRE: romance, fantasy, angst (aka pain)

A/N: This is inspired by an Italian story about Smeraldo flowers—which is a fictitious flower, also an inspiration of BTS’ song “The Truth Untold.”

Today is my seventeenth birthday — a year closer to adulthood. I decided to sell more flowers than usual today so that I could treat myself to something sweet. A tiramisu and crostata would be enough.

My mouth watered as I imagined their sweet savory taste. With a smile plastered on my face, I happily bounced on my feet heading to my now-favorite place—the abandoned castle. It’s my home, though I don’t sleep there. The idea of ghosts haunting me at night scares me too much for that. Yes, I do believe in ghosts.

A random thought struck me as I marched through the hallways. Why do the flowers keep growing even though no one waters or takes care of them? I remember reading about Smeraldo flowers in the library when I was in 10th grade, but nothing about them not needing water. It doesn’t make sense—plants need water to survive.

I shrugged off the curious questions circling in my head. Oh well, those blue flowers hold a lot of mysteries and miracles. They can survive on their own, just like I do. Besides, I couldn't find any water around here, so I couldn’t water them even if I wanted to. The flowers look healthy as ever to me. Plus, I'm too scared to venture further into the woods.

As soon as I arrived in the area, I pushed the door open. And then my jaw dropped—my eyes widened in shock at the sight of food spread out on a huge table in front of me. A chocolate cake, a plate of bruschetta, a bowl of Pasta allo scoglio, pasta al parmigiano with peas and ham, a basket of croissants, a box of hawaiian pizza, and an orange honey-glazed ham. Also ten soda cans, and a… dress? Oh, God—this is a whole feast! Did someone accidentally leave these here?

I walked slowly towards the table, my eyes scanning the foods until it stopped at an envelope decorated with florals placed on the edge of the table. I took it with curiosity and flipped over.

The salmon-pink ink highlighting the words—it said, “Fioria Cali.”

I gaped and, in a swift motion, turned around to see if someone was behind me or watching me. “Hello?” I yelled, observing the corners of the area. But there was none. Only my voice echoing through the empty corridors and hallways could be heard.

My eyes went back to the floral envelope. I gulped and opened the envelope with indecisiveness. I took out the paper inside and unfolded it. The words that are written made my bafflement grow even more.

Happy seventeenth birthday, Fioria Cali.

-A friend

So these are for me—the food and the random dress.

My brows arched as I stared at the last word. A friend? But I don’t have any friends. Not that I know of. I haven’t even spoken to anyone since I started living on my own. Well, except for Mrs. Pattinson.

I sighed, dropping my hand with the letter and envelope, feeling the weight of my entire body. “I just hope you’re not some creepy ass stalker, but oh well,” I shrugged and delved into the sight of these cuisines. “Food is food, blessing’s a blessing.”

I feel like my stomach's about to burst after stuffing it with enormous amounts of food. Damn, it’s been a while since I ate a lot. I didn’t even leave anything. I was planning to save some for the next three days, but it all went straight into my stomach without me even realizing it.

I got up, took my Smeraldo flowers, and headed outside the castle to go to the village and do my selling. But my feet stopped at the doorway. An idea crossed my mind.

I'm going to find the person who sent those.

With a determined look on my face, I took out the letter from my dusty sling bag and scanned through the paper. Nothing strange. No hints or any clue of the sender. I put the letter closer to the holes of my nose and tried to inhale its scent. Smells like—nothing. I groaned in frustration and shoved it back into my bag.

“Show yourself! If you wanna be friends, then let’s be friends! There’s no need to pretend to be some kind of stalker—it isn’t romantic, you know?” I shouted. I probably looked mental right now. It’s embarrassing. I was yelling at the air. The birds flapped their wings as they left the trees from the noise I made. It looked like I scared the hell out of them.

My shoulders dropped in disappointment. I huffed, my face morphing into a frown. “Thanks to the food, though.” I added.

As I heard a snap of a branch from a tree behind me, I looked over my shoulder and saw a tall figure behind the plants and trees. A man. He came running into the woods as soon as he noticed me.

I blinked—and blinked. My entire body felt immobilized. My feet were frozen to the ground. "Shit, follow the guy!" I told myself.

And then I ran after him, but he was too fast—and tall. I couldn’t keep up with him.

“Wait!” I shrieked.

He didn’t even look back, but I did catch a glimpse of his side profile when he moved his head a little to his side while running. If I’m not mistaken—he was wearing a mask. Why would he wear a mask? Who is he hiding from? From me?

“Please, stop running! I wanna know—fuck!” I plunged into the ground as I felt my ankle twist. I think I just sprained my ankle. It was that stupid rock’s fault!

I hissed in pain as the sharp stones cut and dug into my legs and arms. The guy stopped. The trees towered over me as I felt the dry leaves, dirt, and rocks beneath me.

We’re still far apart. I couldn’t make out his appearance—but he sure is tall and slim. Half of his face is covered, and yet I still couldn’t see the exposed part of his face properly.

I was breathing heavily as I stared at him, waiting for his next move. He took a step towards my direction, extending his right arm—but he hesitated. He withdrew his hand, slowly taking a step back. Is something holding him back? Why?

Why do you keep running away?

He did start running again, so I got on my palms and my feet. I dusted off my elbows, down to my skirt and knees. I twirled my ankles in circles and then stomped my foot to see if I could still run. And then I ran after him. I’m going to find out who this person is—he also probably owns the flowers as well. He’s gotta be the one. Now I’m not the only person who knows about the castle. No—he’s been there even before I found it. And he lets me steal his flowers every single day! What the hell is this guy’s intentions? Why is he doing this?

I couldn’t see his figure anymore, but still, I kept running until I caught sight of a strange house. Is that a house?

I ran towards it and finally got a closer look. It’s a treehouse.

Why the hell is there a treehouse built inside the woods?

It looks good though, it looks comfy inside. The house is bigger compared to a usual treehouse size. Plus, the framework is highly appealing, and you could literally just live there. It looks like a cabin.The house isn’t that high from the ground. There’s also a ten-foot tall ladder stopping at the wooden balcony of the treehouse.

Perhaps he’s hiding inside. I went towards the ladder, grabbing on them as I climbed up, slowly.

Finally, I’m standing on the balcony of the treehouse. There’s no door but a curtain of seashells. I brushed through the seashell curtain and took a peek inside.

“Woah,” I breathed out. The place really is comfy. It’s like a living room and a bedroom combined. But the guy that I’m looking for—he’s not here.

I entered the room and scanned the area. There were bookshelves everywhere. Fairy lights decorating the room to the ceiling. A cozy mini bed and a mini couch with cozy pillows. There’s also a tiny heater in the corner. I walked to the corner and examined the sketches pinned against the wooden wall. Pictures of different kinds of flowers.They’re all beautiful and well-sketched.

A Dahlia. Peony. Hydrangea. Tulips. Plumeria. And more.

I scoffed in amusement.

He’s just like me.

I turned my head to the mini shelf beside the bed and saw a green journal. I sat on the floor, took the journal and opened it.

The name ‘Ventellona’s’ was written on the first page. “Ventellona,” it slipped out of my tongue with grace. Is that his name? That sounded like his surname.

I turned to the next page, and I almost giggled—it said, “DO NOT READ ME!” I’m sorry, my guy, too late.

I shook my head and turned to the next page again. The first entry. I straightened my back and leaned on the foot of the bed. It was from last year.

February 14, 1949

They said today is the month of love. The month where you celebrate your love for each other by showering affections to each other. The month where lovers spend the day ‘loving’ each other. Earlier, boys at school were giving gifts and flowers and chocolates to the girls, isn’t that what Valentines is supposed to be like? But then when I went home, Father didn’t give anything to Mother. They didn’t even LOOK at each other. I thought today was going to be a special day for both of them. But why? Why can’t they be like them? Like other Mothers and Fathers? Like other couples? Why can’t they love each other?

My lips pursed into a thin line. So he’s having issues with his parents. A memory flashed in my head—I remember when my Father wakes up, he would always head to the kitchen to kiss my mother on the cheek and dance with her every morning while she cooks pancakes for us. They’d also say ‘I love you’ to each other before Father leaves for work. I miss them.

I sighed as I smiled at the memory. I proceeded to read the next entry.

February 19, 1949

She looked so pretty today, especially with the Alstroemeria placed in her ear. I saw her reading a book at the library. I don't know why I’m so mesmerized by her. Seeing her — reading quietly, looking so focused — makes me smile. Is this what they call love? I don’t even know how to describe it — I don’t even know what it looks like. I can’t even tell if my parents love each other. But even if they don’t, I’d still want to experience how to love. And to experience being loved. I want to try it. It probably feels good.

February 23, 1949

I’m writing about her again. The girl that I admire so much. The girl that I want to love. I want to approach her and talk to her. But I’m scared she might not even smile back at me. I might also scare her away. But anyways, I already found out her name! I also followed her after school to know where she lives. Her house isn’t that far from mine, though. Now, I can see her everyday, even on weekends.

Her? Who’s her?

I flipped through the pages and skipped through them and then stopped at the month of July. July—the month where my parents died.

July 8, 1949

I haven’t been seeing her in a while since that accident. However, I was relieved that she’s okay. But she stopped going to school and now, I'm missing her. I miss her so much. I hope I can see her again. I will never get tired of waiting for her—like how winter waits for spring.

My eyes stopped at the word ‘accident’. What accident?

I looked at the date, confirming it. July 8th. The day of the accident was July 1st. It was the day of the house fire. The day my parents died. What if the ‘her’ he was talking about was…

No, it can’t be.

I skimmed through the other pages that I skipped. The girl she was referring to in his entries can’t be me right? I’m probably assuming things—

Shit.

I stared at the name written in one of his entries in the month of March. And it said Fioria.

It’s literally my name.

I read through the entry, furrowing my forehead as I focused on the words written.

March 23, 1949

I’ll start referring to ‘her’ as Fioria in this journal. Her name sounds so lovely, it deserves to be written many times. It deserves to be remembered as always. Flowers in Italian is fiori. It’s like a coincidence! Her name translates into flowers — and I love flowers. I am fond of flowers — I am also fond of her. Flowers give light into my boring life. She also brings light into my boring life. Fioria and fiori — my sweet sweet angels.

He’s talking about me. And also — the flowers. He owns them. The flowers in the castle — he owns them. And I had now idea! What if he’s been actually watching me every time I go there? No — he’s been watching me since before the accident. So obviously, yes. Is he obsessed or something? He hasn’t even done anything bad to me though… or perhaps not yet. Oh, God. I didn’t even realize I had an admirer — and worse, he’s probably some obsessed stalker or kidnapper. Just like what I assumed. But based on his actions towards me — he doesn’t seem like a bad guy. He even brought me food this morning. Wait — how did he even know my birthday?

I was about to go back into reading when I heard footsteps coming from the balcony. I felt a surge of panic rising within me.

#mish.writes #The Catastrophic Serendipity #OC #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original story #BTS #smeraldo flower #the truth untold #smeraldo story

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laelianas · 1 year ago

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Prompt - “Do I look beautiful?” “Yes, and absolutely powerful, my Queen.” (1097 words)

Heavy is the head that wears the crown. A phrase uttered too often for the Queen’s liking – it might be true but all it did was remind her that her subjects viewed her as inept in her position. Queen Lyla Penelope DeBouvioure the 9th, of the Imperial Kingdom of Mortillia, forever found herself frustrated with her position; she was Queen, yet she was barely afforded the privilege of it sometimes. Ministers and Lords flocked to her for all the wrong reasons as they scrabbled to find a way to hold onto the influence that they held during her late father's reign. A foolish man. A stupid old man. The man who made a mockery of her family in the eyes of the people and destroyed everything her grandfather had built. A once strong and prominent kingdom now a disgrace amongst the nations of the world. She hoped he had been damned to hell, cursed his name aloud as the door to her office opened revealing her Sworn Sword, Amythea, smiling brightly as they came in.

“Good morning Your Majesty! I see you’re in bright spirits this morning in the wake of a brand-new day!” Their happy go attitude was truly infectious, and Lyla caught herself smiling slightly at the entrance of the bright-eyed bodyguard and their lack of conduct.

“You do realise you’re meant to knock and wait for me to let you come in, right? You’re also meant to bow as you enter, Amythea, do you have no respect for your Queen?” Lyla would return with a small smirk as she enjoyed the embarrassment creep up Amythea’s face as they realised what they were doing.

They threw their head down quickly in a bow and yelled various apologies causing a laugh to escape the lips of the frustrated Queen. Amythea never failed to improve her day no matter what had happened. As they rose their head Lyla was greeted with a bashful smile, one that stretched the various scars on their face, and a final quieter apology. With that Amythea would provide their Queen with various reports to start the day; her morning soon found itself full of paperwork and ink – a monarch truly could never rest as long as their kingdom remained alive. She decided to take that as a positive, so long as she still had things to sign that meant that the people were still there and just waiting for her to improve everything again. However, that didn’t take away from the fact that doing paperwork all the time was so very boring. It seemed it was especially boring for her Sworn Sword, who wasn’t even doing the paperwork, as she found herself listening to them pacing outside her door – their boots clacking in an uneven rhythm that was starting to drive her quite mad. So mad that she found herself walking over to the door and opening it to a startled soldier. Lyla stared at them for a moment, as she did it Amythea imagined the various ways that their Queen could kill them with her eyes, before groaning and demanding a walk.

The palace gardens were truly a vision in the summer season: the flowers were in full bloom, painting an orange and red glow across the garden, alongside the towering oak trees that had sat there for generations. The Queen would pause, her protector stopping just behind her, and would take a deep breath in before sighing heavily and turning to face her shadow.

“You’re bored. Aren’t you, Amythea?” She’d hold Amythea’s eyes for a moment before the sheepish defender before they glanced away from her.

“Of course not, I would never-“

“You hate being a guard, you can’t stand all the… Well, the standing. Am I wrong?”

“Well, no not exactly but –. “Amythea found their words cut off a second time.

“Exactly, I’m right. You need to have constant action and movement, being my protector can’t provide that – especially now that I’m in charge of everything. Honestly, I have half a mind to release you from your oath because it’s driving us both insane-.” It was Lyla’s turn to find herself cut off mid-sentence as Amythea clasped a rough hand over her mouth.

“Don’t say that. You don’t mean it. Don’t throw away my devotion to you, please.”

Lyla stared at them, wide eyed and confused, unsure of what to say. No one had ever spoken to her in such a way. No one had ever requested her to accept their unrelenting loyalty and not to let go. There was no request for something in return, only to not throw them away. She didn’t know what to do. How does one react to someone staring at them so intently with utter devotion. Unwavering and open devotion that was more than just duty.

“You feel like you’re alone right now, I see it in your eyes every day, monsters looking to bleed you dry in every aspect of your life, right? Well, let me protect you from it; allow me to be your sword and guide me towards your enemies. I will do anything you ask of me, My Queen, even if I find it tedious or uninteresting, I will do it to the best of my ability. I’m sorry I haven’t shown you my devotion clearly enough recently when you needed it most. “

They’d remove their hand from their Queen’s mouth, sinking onto on knee and bowing their head.

“Use me. Mind, body, and soul I am yours to use as you see fit My Lady. The monsters that fill your court will meet my blade if you wish that of me and I will do it without question. You are everything to me, my muse, the one I will forever devote myself to and I will never be bored of serving you.”

Lyla would swallow hard, accepting the fact that someone would devote themselves so wholly to her was a strange concept that she didn’t think she could ever find herself getting used to. She’d clench her fists before relaxing her hands and placing one upon their head.

“Do I look beautiful to you, as I am?” She’d ask them cautiously.

“Yes, and absolutely powerful, my Queen.” They’d reply quickly and without doubt.

She’d nod lightly before motioning for them to stand. She found herself clearing her throat of a thick feeling before speaking again.

“Well, I have more paperwork to do so we best end our trip out here.”

“Then I look forward to guarding the door once again, Your Majesty.”

A/N - Any feedback would be awesome!

#my oc stuff #original character #my ocs #ocs #oc #creative writing #writing prompt #fantasy #medieval fantasy #romance #cliche #lgbtqia #genderfluid character

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wilhelmina-goulding · 1 year ago

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Chapter 7: Moon and stars.

I descend the staircase and find Mari cleaning the kitchen. “KRISTUS KAIKKIVALTIAS! You look terrible!” She gasps upon my entry. I’m wearing Ville’s shirt and underwear again. There have been moments where I have contemplated giving up lace panties forever in favour of his damned comfortable boxers, but gorgeous lingerie is often part of the foreplay. “Cheers, Mari…” I mutter, feeling even more like shit. “I’m sorry, sweetie, you are just too pale! Let me get you something to eat.” She offers me a multitude of fancy breakfasts but my stomach turns at the mention of them. In the end I agree to toast and a glass of orange juice, as the mere mention of tea has me heaving. How strange; there is little that rivals my love for tea. Perhaps I have a stomach bug. I eat half of my toast, make excuses and settle for a warm soak. The lavender bath salts seem to ease my stomach and relax me. I style my hair, throw a dress on, put on some light makeup and feel well again.

I arrange plates and cutlery on the dining table. Being too sick to cook today, I reheat a beef and red wine stew I made two days ago. I add a bit of blood to Ville’s portion followed by a bit of cornflour to thicken it up. As I am placing the plates on the table, Ville walks in. I breathe slowly, taking in his tight leather jeans, and the delicious part where his legs meet and the fabric stretches to contain him. I take in the pale strip of his stomach on display with a little flash of his pelvic heartagram tattoo. I follow the hem of his shirt up; a Type O Negative shirt with two topless women embracing and making their ‘O’ faces. I feel a little twinge between my legs thinking about Ville’s O face. My eyes follow the milky skin along his neck, over his Adams apple, to his jawline, carved by the gods. Those plump pink lips, slender nose, cheekbones, and shining twinkling eyes of gardenia. I am lost in him and in awe of his beauty. “Good evening, rakkaani” he pads forward and kisses the top of my head. We sit opposite each other and Ville eats hungrily. I eat a couple of bits of beef, but again find that I don’t really feel hungry. I use my cutlery to play with the food on my plate; trying to give him the impression that I am eating, but he picks up on my behaviour quickly. I tell him I don’t feel hungry and he doesn’t pry further. When he has eaten, I spontaneously stand and place my palms on the table. My knees follow and I crawl to him like a feline stalking her prey. He looks surprised as I lean forward to aggressively bite his bottom lip. “Ouch!” He snaps. I dig my nails into his shoulders and move to bite his neck, suddenly overcome with lust. “Fuck, baby, stop!” He commands and pushes me to arms length. “Don’t you want me?” I purr, reaching one hand down to stroke the length of his cock through his tight jeans whilst the other fumbles with his belt. He grabs my wrist “No. Not here.” He whispers, angrily. “What’s the matter, baby? I know you want me”. He holds my shoulders at arms’ length. “This isn’t like you, what’s going on? You’re being aggressive…”

Feeling utterly rejected, I flinch, swing my legs to the side and climb off of the table. Tears start to well in the corners of my eyes. “Just tell me you don’t love me.” I say indignantly, knowing that I am being unfair to him, unable to look up from the floor. He slams his fist on the table in frustration and I jump. “Don’t… don’t fucking question my love for you. It’s not fair…” the tears roll out of my eyes and down to the floor, and I start to shake. I am scared to look at him. “I didn’t mean to…”. He gets up immediately trying to make amends for his outburst, “I’m sorry…”. He takes a step towards me and I step back. “It’s fine. I need to go”, my voice breaking as I turn to leave and run up the staircase. I make it to Ville’s room, throw myself on his bed and break down. My face buried in his pillow; my tears dampening his bed linen. He has never shouted at me like this before, but I am more so hurt by the rejection. The fear that he will wake up, realise I am nothing special, and discard me like a bloodless body. I cry harder.

I feel the bed creak and lower, and an arm wrap around me. My body stiffens but Ville kisses my shoulders, my arms. “I’m sorry… you didn’t deserve that”. Through my tears I sigh, “You were right, I wasn’t being myself.” I say solemnly. “Even so, I should never have shouted at you. It just… I feel like I need to explain why I got so angry. Will you please look at me?” I roll over apprehensively to meet his eyes, ever beautiful and green. I kick myself for crying, and imagine I look like a puffy pink mess. He wipes at my tears with his thumbs as he cradles my face. “Come… sit up.” Begrudgingly I allow him to pull me up, and sit with my back against the headboard. He puts his hands in my lap, palms up, and I put my hands in his. His thumbs run reassuring circles over my knuckles. He takes a deep breath and launches into his explanation. “I had an ex girlfriend, Jonna, who used to accuse me of not loving her every time she didn’t get her way. She would use it as a weapon to get me to do things that I didn’t want to do. If I didn’t want to go to a party with her friends, she would say it was because I didn’t love her. If I didn’t want to get blackout drunk with her, I didn’t love her. It was exhausting.” he reminisces, sadly. “I’m not Jonna…” I whisper without looking up from our hands. “No” agrees Ville “You’re not. You’re kind, and thoughtful, and funny…” he kisses my hands “…and I will love you throughout this life and the next.” I look up and smile weakly, and start to feel faint. I can feel bile rising from my stomach and bolt to the bathroom. Ville follows and holds my hair back as I retch over the sink, and helps me back to the bedroom when I am done. “You didn’t eat at dinner” he says, more observant than I give him credit for “You need to eat something to settle your stomach.” I sigh “I know, I just don’t really feel myself. The thought of food alone makes me feel sick…”. “Then we’ll get you to a doctor”, Ville interjects, “I have a private doctor who could probably fit us in tomorrow evening…” he says, standing. “No, Ville, it’s fine. I’m still registered with my old doctor. I’ll go there tomorrow morning. That way I’ll get seen quicker.” I decide “You’re sure?” Ville says, brows furrowed, looking concerned. “Yes” I say, but he doesn’t seem convinced “I’m sorry I was… aggressive… my mood has been a little bit all over the place the last two days… it’s probably a hormone imbalance or something.” He lies facing me and strokes my hair, “You seem so sad. What is upsetting you? Please let me take it away.” I breathe deeply. “Ville… I love you… but I don’t have a life outside of you, and that is… well, it’s frightening. I don’t exist outside of you, and if one day you feel like it’s not working out, I will lose everything. My best friend, my love, my home, my purpose; and I think a loss that great would kill me.” He holds my hands in his again and commands my gaze with his intensely calming eyes. “I have never felt this way before, nor will I ever feel this way again. I am yours. Completely. Body and soul… assuming there is a soul there” he laughs briefly, “I won’t ever turn you away. In fact, it is I who fears losing you. I am terrified of you realising how much better you can do…” he blinks as if to halt tears. “…what can I do to fix this?” he begs. I take a moment to establish what I want. “I want to go to Finland, Ville. I want to leave London. I want to travel, find purpose… it is not enough that we love each other. I need to begin to love myself again.” He nods “We will go to Finland” he promises. I kiss him lightly on the cheek “Kiitos, rakkaani” I say, thanking him. He smiles “Your pronunciation is really good, you’ll fit in with us Finns easily.” I smile back and drift out of consciousness.

When I wake it is 7am and I continue to feel even more like death. I call the medical practice and ask to be seen today. They are hesitant as always, probably busy blah blah, but oblige when I describe my symptoms. I am relieved to get an appointment but also scared; what if it’s something bad? I get out of bed and trudge slowly to the bathroom. I still look pretty pale which really highlights the dark circles around my eyes. Great. I brush my teeth, floss, and have a quick body shower. I return to the bedroom to get dressed in one of Ville’s shirts and a pair of black skinny jeans. I walk downstairs slowly, preparing myself for Mari’s over concern.

Predictably, she is not afraid to tell me I look like shit. Damn these Finns and their brutal honesty. I ask her to make me something plain and she delivers with pancakes. They are a bit sweeter than I expected but I surprise myself by eating three; it seems the lack of consistent food and vomiting has left my stomach empty and increased my appetite. I still don’t feel like drinking tea so I opt for warm water instead and thank Mari as always for her kind hospitality. I pack some essentials: phone, bank card, ID into a handbag, grab a jacket and stroll outside. Sure enough, Elias is parked in the courtyard outside Ville’s home. I knock his window and he rolls the window down “Are you… always here? Do you ever get a break?” Elias laughs. “Usually whilst Ville is sleeping, where did you want to go Miss?” I feel guilty “I… um… could you take me to a park or something? With a cafe? I feel like fresh air and a walk would do me good, and I could get a drink after…” Elias of course accepts the request, before opening my door for me. I opt to sit in front and tell him Ville and I are thinking of going to Finland. I try to pry about what Ville’s life in Finland is like. He seems uneasy, and gives me very little back. However, when I switch the conversation to Ville’s parents he brightens, reassuring me that they are very kind and accommodating people. That’s nice, at least.

He drops me off at a park with lots of greenery, a kids play area, some benches and a small cafe. He insists on waiting for me even though I tell him I might be a while. I walk into the cafe and it is quiet. There are a few older couples having afternoon tea. I smile politely and do my best to look like a mentally well person who has her shit together. I purchase a hot chocolate and a little cake, and sit outside. I hold the cardboard cup between my palms and sip my warm drink. Autumn is here and it is colder; this is actually great because it means that the nights are getting longer, which of course means more time with my love. I watch children playing on swings and climbing frames in the playground and smile. It would be nice to have children. Maybe this could be something to discuss once we are settled in Finland, assuming his parents like me. My mind wanders thinking about how I can impress his parents… I don’t want them to think I’m some weirdo with a vampire fetish. Then again, Ville’s dad does run a sex shop… I’m sure he’s seen stranger things. I pop back into the cafe to order a simple coffee. Elias seems like a coffee guy. I head back and ask Elias to take me to the medical surgery. He does so without asking me why. He’s a good guy: private; respectful.

I sit in the waiting room with one headphone in. My sweetheart is singing about being buried alive by love, whilst I nervously tap my fingers on my knees. The doctor calls me in and asks me what the problem is. “Um… I’ve not been feeling myself lately. My appetite has reduced, I feel lethargic and weak. At first I thought it was a lack of vitamin D or iron or something, but I’ve been taking supplements. Oh, um, my mood has been a bit up and down and I’ve thrown up a few times…” she listens to my monologue patiently. “Okay, and when was your last period?” Silence. “Oh, um… I don’t know, er…” I think back to the last time I remember; Ville’s bloody fingers in the kitchen. “… a couple of months maybe? Is it hormones? Am I going through early menopause?�� The doctor’s lips purse and I can tell she is trying not to laugh, which makes me all the more stressed. “No, not at all. Miss, have you thought perhaps you might be pregnant?”

My heart beats fast and loud until it is the only thing I can hear. The thumping in my ears. I can see the doctor’s lips moving, but I cannot focus and I cannot hear a word. Pregnant? I start to feel faint again. The doctor hands me a plastic cup filled with water and some paper towels. “When were you last sexually active?” she asks. “Oh, I… um, the day before yesterday” I admit, embarrassed. She hands me a rectangular package and explains what I need to do. I sit in the bathroom cubicle and pee on the stick. While the results are developing I try to breathe deeply and calmly, I try to distract myself with happy thoughts, thoughts of Finland. Nothing is working. I brave a look at the stick in my hand and see two lines. Positive. I am pregnant with Ville’s baby. I burst into tears. I am in shock and disbelief, I am scared and not sure how to feel at all.

I return to the examination room with puffy eyes and show my doctor the stick. Tears start to roll out of my eyes again. “Are you okay? How is the relationship with the father?” She asks. “Great” I smile through tears “He’s gentle and he’s loving…” I stare wistfully out of the window. “Does he want children?” She pries. “More than anything” I say, smiling, but continuing to avoid eye contact. “And you… do you want children?” I turn to look at her, her brow furrowed in concern. “Yes” I smile, and continue to cry. She gives me a hesitant hug to comfort me. “In that case… congratulations!” she smiles. I return her smile, sniffing and dabbing at my eyes with tissue. She prescribes me pregnancy vitamins and gives me advice regarding morning sickness. I am told that I must eat when I get up, to force the sickness away, and to stick to plain and tasteless foods when nauseous. I am given advice about foods and activities to avoid when pregnant. “You can still have sex, in fact it can help baby to move a little quicker when it is time for them to come out.” She laughs. I smile, and thank the heavens that sex is still on the table, because resisting Ville in his low rise jeans and “fuck me” tattoo is futile. I thank her for the emotional support and am told a midwife will be in touch.

The cold air on my skin is soothing when I step outside. I close my eyes for a moment and let the wind calm me. I walk down the path to Elias’ car and get in, realising I forgot his coffee somewhere between the cafe and the medical centre. Oh well, I tried. I tell him I’d like to go home and we sit in complete silence. I spend the entire 50 minute journey inside my own head. I think about how Ville will take the news, what having a family will look like… and then I start to panic. The baby is half vampire. I shut my eyes and bite into my lips to keep the panic attack at bay. Elias thankfully doesn’t seem to notice. By the time he pulls into the courtyard, I realise the sun has just set. Ville will be awake. I thank Elias for his help today and walk hesitantly to the door. I unlock it and step inside. I can’t see or hear Ville so I head upstairs. My legs feel like they are made of lead and I again focus on steadying my breathing and taking the staircase step by step. Ville isn’t in his room and I breathe a sigh of relief. I kick off my dr martens and release my legs from their prison of skinny jeans. In nothing but Ville’s KISS shirt and my underwear, I sit on his window ledge and stare out at the sky, wondering what to make of how significantly my life has changed in the past year. I hear the click of the bedroom door and take a deep, steadying, breath. Here we go…

The lights are off; the moonlight glistens highlighting my silhouette, drawing Ville’s attention. My eyes are wide, my lips part. I am anxious but his presence calms me. His hair is an unruly ocean of waves. His green eyes hypnotic and reassuring and pure. Skinny jeans and some sort of band shirt, as usual. He sits on the window ledge, facing me. “Good evening, rakkaani” he leans in to kiss my forehead gently; the gentle smack of his parted lips warming me, “Did you see the doctor?” My lips part but I cannot speak, frightened of the weight of my words. I look up at him hesitantly and bite my lip so hard it begins to bleed. He leans in to lick my lip and places his hands gently on my shoulders, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

I take a long, drawn out breath. “Ville… I’m pregnant.” His eyes widen “W-what?” He whispers. “We’re… w-we’re, um, we… we’re having a baby” I say, barely audible. He stands and buries his face in his hands.

My heart sinks. He’s upset. He’s disappointed. He doesn’t believe me. He doesn’t want the baby. He’ll ask me to leave. He…

Ville falls to his knees before me, tears in his eyes. “I’m going to be a… dad?” His voice breaks. I nod eagerly, my own tears pouring out of my eyes and down my face, and join him on the floor. He grabs my waist and pulls me into his lap, my knees resting on his hips. He sobs into my chest. Taking a sobering breath he kisses me sweetly and presses his forehead to mine, our tears pooling at our chins and falling into our laps, like little diamonds falling from the sky. “You have blessed me with the most wonderful gift. You are my everything, rakkaani, I can never repay you for all the love and light you have brought into my life” he smiles through his tears. I cup his face with my hands, wiping his little wet dewdrops with my thumbs, running them through the tiny spikes of stubble. “YOU have blessed ME” I tell him, grabbing his hand in mine and guiding it to my stomach. He caresses my very small bump and chuckles “Hi little one! It’s Daddy!” his grin is bright and infectious, and he giggles like an excited child “Tell Mummy she is perfect, and Daddy is going to marry her”. His eyes move to mine. “W-what?” I whisper. “Marry me, rakkaani, I can’t live without you. You are my purpose.” I smile, shyly and lean forward to hold my stomach… “Baby says Daddy needs to do better than that. Mummy deserves a grand gesture!” I chide. He laughs out loud “Little Love, tell your mother the moon and the stars are hers soon enough. I will take on this challenge and I will amaze her!” We both giggle, giddy with excitement, “Now we really do have to go to Finland….” he smiles “…we have to tell my parents.” I look down, nervous, “I hope they like me” I whisper. “How could they not?” He says reassuringly. “Thanks… Daddy” I tease. His face changes and he looks at me sternly and seriously “NEVER call me that during sex!”. His grin returns and I laugh so hard I cry.

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