#and I have a smear test tomorrow as well

[teawithswift]

I adulted too much today and now I have a bunch of doctor appointments and phone calls in the next two days and I’m stressed

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Look at how big my titties are getting.... so full of milk! I look like a regular breeding cow already. It's so wonderful seeing my pretty little boobs start to get so heavy and swollen. Pregnancy is amazingly fun! I was a bit worried when my doctor said he signed me up for this! I mean, I've been living as a girl for a little while now and my transition has been going super well. But as soon as I turned 18 he was like, "Emily, now that you're old enough I think you're ready to start carrying a few kids, don't you?" I was like "Uhhhh, sure?" And he had me sign all these wavers, despite me not 100% knowing what I was getting myself into!

Soooo, apparently I was entered into a trial to be continually impregnated on high doses of fertility drugs for a decade. My paperwork says that 'the patient's uterus is expected to produce a minimum of 100 kids in that time.' The minimum!? Ummmm...... wow. But I'm not too surprised. I'm only like six months along and I look huge. It's definitely making playing field hockey a lot more challenging, but as expected we are college girls now so over half of us are pregnant anyway. So I guess it's not a huge deal but when the other girls check me or tackle me I feel like my belly's gonna pop like a balloon, which would be fun to see, I suppose.... Hasn't happened yet though!

So, not only was I forcibly entered into this clinical breeding trial or whatever but I realized the procedure was pretty quick.... I asked my surgeon and I'm not going on Rocket, so I'm not giving birth urethrally, and they didn't hook my birth canal up anywhere, so I won't be giving birth anally like a lot of trans girls..... I decided to ask if they intended to do a new surgery and they said no. So I asked how am I giving birth? The people running the trial said a small device is hooked to my womb, when my babies are ready it'll emit a signal, telling them where I am.....

Guys, get this: I won't know when it's going off. They said they only perform the retrieval between 9-5 Mon-Fri. So I'll be at school or out, going about my day and they'll come by. Allegedly they'll have me take off my clothes wherever I am, they'll smear my belly with numbing cream, and..... perform a C-Section no matter where I am. College? A crowded mall? A movie theater? I'll have no choice, they'll just rip off my clothes, prep me, and open my belly like it's a casual, minor test they're performing, like drawing blood or weighing me or something. Then they'll take my babies to the usual government-owned civilian living centers all these babies are raised at by all these government-appointed breeders who manage to make it to thirty. I might end up being a full-time mom like that one day, if I'm lucky and I don't pop! So.... I have public C-Sections to look forward to! Wonder if it happens even if some random guy is fucking me as I try to go about my day? Wouldn't surprise me one bit.....

Guess I'm still glad I transitioned, even if being forced to have a uterus and pump out babies like a factory was not how I envisioned my twenties. No big deal, I guess. I love having this huge belly, and guys and girls go crazy about it! They go even crazier when they see I have a nice, thick cock between my legs, too.... I feel like it's getting even bigger lately, maybe it's just getting swollen because I jerk off so often? And every other person I run into gives it a few healthy tugs when they reach up my skirt or dresses..... Mmmmm, speaking of which I think I'm gonna put on a cute tiny dress and go out clubbing tonight. My poor pregnant body is just begging to be pounded by twenty or thirty cocks..... I'm sure my professors will understand if I'm late to class tomorrow!"

[pupyuj]

i like how the unnie line all fit (in my head) different smut tropes slfksmf

we got g!pchaewon being the leader needing to de-stress ~ g!psakura is the sometimes borderline sub loser gamer ~ g!pyunjin for me is the perv, either accidentally always getting hard or intentionally messing w/ a oblivious yn ~ g!pkazuha is so obv so subby but since i’m a wh0re for her i have to delulu her as a surprising slight dom 😋

no you're so right anon 😵‍💫😵‍💫

a lot of people write chaewon as this mean, hard dom but i like to think she has her soft moments even while she's taking her stress out on you <3 n bcs she's so nice about it, you let her dump her cum in you until early in the morning bcs you'd do anything to make her smile :((

kkura for me is the hard sub of the bunch, like she's just straight up pathetic but we love her for that!! cries when you edge her, esp when she needs to cum and it hurts her pride if you turn out to be younger than her bcs shiit she's an unnie begging a younger girl to let her come, what a loserrr <///3 but kkura's definitely good w her cock 🫣 pounds into you like there's no tomorrow when you let her, and the simplest praise always pushes her closer and closer to the edge 😩

perv yunjin is kind of spot on but like what if,, she's trying to corrupt you into being her good little slut 😳😳 touching you everywhere, hugging you too tightly, and jerks herself off when she's sleeping w you in the same bed,, releasing her load on your ass and the back of your thighs 🫣 she can be kinda gross with it too like swiping some of cum with her fingers, reaching over, and smearing it on your lips?? 😧 then she pulls you close and feels you up,, burying her face in your hair and getting hard again at your scent 😩😩 somehow you never fucking suspect anything bcs when you wake up it looks as if nothing happened, all you know is your friend is a cute n sweet girl who's always cuddling up to you whenever she sleeps 🥺 but then what if she gets frustrated w you bcs you're so dense??? yunjin cornering you one day, testing the waters and only groping your ass and breasts,,, then her hands slowly move down to your clothed pussy,, her forcefully turning you around and pinning you against a desk?? hands gripping your ass and her cock pressing against your warm core :((( you being so confused as to what the fuck has suddenly gotten into her but you're liking it??

and you don't know how to go about sex at all you let yunjin guide you but ofc.. being the perv that she is, she teaches you all the wrong and dirty things :(( letting her call you a "slut" and a "whore", her lifting you up the desk and fucking into you relentlessly bcs she has wanted this for sooo long, not at all caring about the fact that she is literally taking your virginity </3 cums inside you over and over again, and makes you promise that she will be the only one who can use you like that 😳😳

sdjksdhks kazuha for me is a really, really soft n gentle dom idk :(( big ass dick yeah but she knows how to use it well 😭 always starts off slow with you, making sure you're adjusting to her size well, asking how you're doing every minute she's really sweet :((( holding your hands while she's thrusting into you n everything <////3 but sometimes zuha is wayyy too gentle that you get a bit worked up and just tell her to fucking tear you apart,, and she fucking does! the only reason she always went easy on you was bcs she thought you were too small and delicate for her cock :( but now she knows that you're her strong and good girl,, and she can finally fill you up to the brim like she has always wanted 🥺🥺

[starsomens]

he couldn't just let you be upset, hurt adn scared after that. He had to fix it.

“Princess?” Noah knocks on the door not sure if you had locked it or not “Princess please I’m sorry…I never meant to hurt you or say any of those things I-“ he tests the knob and finds it to be unlocked. He lets go of a breath he wasn't aware that he was holding. He pokes his head inside and sees you hunched over your vanity. He felt his heart ache as he stepped inside and walked to your shaking form carefully. He places a hand on your shoulder

"..baby?" he voice was soft, not wanting to startle you.

You swallow hard "what do you want?" you try and present a strong voice as your head come up from your arms. You make up was smeared and left tear tracks down your face. You eyes were red and puffy and seeing it broke his heart "shouldn't you be at your club?" You ask him still wanting to jab at him for what he did

"No baby...nothing compares to being home with you" he answers trying to meet the eyes he loved so much

"Well I don't care anymore...go and enjoy you stupid girls" you said looking at him in the mirror. You looked at him not with hate, but with hurt and anger.

"Y/N, you're my only girl" he said caging you into the vanity as he leaned on the edge "Please....I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve any of that. I swear on my life, you are the only woman, my woman, none of them even come close to you. I should have stopped the very first time you said so…."

"..so why do...why do y-you still go?" you curse you voice for breaking and raising in pitch. Hot tears fall from your eyes once again. Your head falls back into your hands and Noah comes to kneel on the floor. He spins your chair so you’re facing him. His warm hands ground you and made you feel secure, even in vulnerability.

“Y/N, baby..my love look at me,” he asked you softly as his hands gently take your hands from your face. “There you are…my perfect little flower”

His large thump wiping the black, but only sneering it more

“I am an honest man and I am telling you it’s business only. The dancers who work there sometimes don’t know when I visit and are just hoping to get some pocket money. I don’t go to enjoy myself…I go to make sure I make the money I need to give you anything you ask for in this world. why do I have to go a see another girl when I have a stunning woman at home?”

You simply shrug your shoulders feeling zapped of energy

“But listen to me, if it makes you feel better and more secure that I don’t go there, I won’t.” He told you “I was being stupid, and grabbing you like that….dont ever let me treat you that way again Y/N, I want you to slap the shit outta me if I even attempt it “ he had finally cracked a smile from you. “Okay baby?”

You nod “okay” you repeat “…I should have..”

“Yes. you should have” he smiles at you

“I’m sorry for over reacting”

“No. Im sorry princess, never and I mean NEVER again,” he stated deep into your eyes “everything that I do, I do to give you the best and highest life you desire. Anything is yours, all you have to do is ask me, my love.”

“Well I..” he waits for your response “…I want you…” you answer

“Then it’s done, now let’s clean up that pretty face huh?” He stood up and grabbed your make up remover supplies and started to gently work on your face while he spoke to you

“You’re my princess”

“So smart, and resourceful, no one compares”

“I’m sorry I hurt you princess, I’m so so sorry”

After it was all gone he helped with your skin care and just stared at you

“You’re the most precious thing to me” he held your face in his hands and caressed your skin with his thumbs “how about we get you to bed?”

You nod your head and he leads you to the large bed in the middle of the room. He lets you get in first and tucks you in snuggly. He squats down a an kisses your head

“I’ll be in bed in an hour, I need to make some arrangements for tomorrow and I’ll come back okay?” He informs you, he could see the sadness still on your face from his statement “baby, I promise you in an hour, I’ll be back, snuggling you and holding you through the night okay? I promise”

And he did come back to bed within the hour. He arranged to have someone take his place so he didn’t have to visit anymore. Which meant tomorrow he’s take you out for the day as an apology. Shopping, restaurants, shows, movies, anything you want. So here he laid with you in bed, his arms wrapped around you, protecting and shielding you from this world as he should be doing.

He was just basking in the feeling of you asleep in his arms. Thinking of all the ways he’d treat you tomorrow, starting with breakfast in bed (wink)

[tennessoui]

democratic fic part 3

(democratic fic masterlist) (2.5k)

Anakin breathes in for a count of three and out for five. Obi-Wan Kenobi is the single most vexing creature in the entire galaxy.

Not a small part of him wants to grab the boy by his throat and shake him, make him look at him. How dare he look away. How dare he test Anakin’s control so casually. It is untenable, the way the boy smirks and flutters his eyelashes and begins to walk as if Anakin’s compliance is a matter already resolved. 

“No,” Anakin steps forward and reaches out to grab his arm. Before his fingers can curl  around the bone of his wrist, Kenobi has snatched his hand away, curling it to his chest protectively. The boy turns and glares at him, all hints of sweetness washed away from his face. “I said no, Obi-Wan.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says, tone as far from alright as it can get. “Then have a good rest of your night, Senator. I will, I am sure, see you again during my stay on Coruscant, though I will not inflict my company upon you any longer—”

The boy cannot be serious. “You are throwing a tantrum,” Anakin snaps. “I will not be beholden to the whims of a spoiled princeling—”

Obi-Wan throws an embittered, fierce look over his shoulder at him. “I am the grandson of a Count, Senator, I am not a prince—”

“Then stop acting like one!”

“And no one has asked that you accompany me—”

“You just did—”

“Yes, and I have taken your rejection with aplomb—”

“Sith’s hells you have,” Anakin mutters, working his jaw furiously as his thoughts fly rapidly through his head.

Everything he knows about Obi-Wan Kenobi points to the boy being made of soft stuffs; he is bratty and rude, no doubt about it, but he does not possess the spine that would be necessary for him to truly venture into the Lower Levels of Coruscant by himself. He is simply testing Anakin’s patience for the fun of it. Perhaps the thrill of it. But a failed Jedi turned spoiled servant of the Court would never have the guts to go alone somewhere so violent and dark.

“Fine,” Anakin says, turning away himself. “Do send me a comm tomorrow morning so that I know you are alive.” “I didn’t realize you would care,” the boy sniffs, his head held incredibly high when Anakin peeks back at him. For someone apparently not born into aristocracy, he has taken to it quite well. It sets Anakin’s teeth on edge, and his whole body twitches forward, filled with the urge to put his hands on the boy’s body, ruffle him up and tear the cold mask of indifference off his face. 

These are very, very dangerous thoughts as he is quite sure that the boy would welcome those sorts of advances and Anakin has already committed to not allowing the boy into his bed. If not for the scandal should they be found, the questions of propriety, the fact that Kenobi is a ward of a foreign Count, then simply for the reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi is a spoiled little brat of a princeling, and Anakin is old enough to know better than to give into his demands.

He listens to Kenobi’s footsteps move further away from him, towards the elevator at the ends of the gardens that would take him to the speeder lot. He’d probably get into a speeder and fly back to his grandfather, pouting the entire way.

Yes, Anakin can see it now: Kenobi in the front seat of the speeder, full and pink bottom lip pushed out—perhaps even wobbling slightly, spit-slick too—hair a bit tangled and mussed from the wind, eye makeup smeared slightly from rubbing his hand over his face, pointing his speeder back to his grandfather’s apartments because he would never in a million years venture into the Lower Levels without some sort of guardian.

But—

What if Anakin is wrong?

After all, he only met the boy a few days ago. He has impressions of Kenobi, but that doesn’t mean the boy can’t surprise him. He’d been unexpectedly catty in the presence of Padmé: what if he could be unexpectedly brave and direct his speeder down far below the safest levels of Coruscant?

Dressed as he was, he would be noticed immediately. He’d be a target before he even stepped out of his speeder, and if anything happened to Kenobi, the blame would fall on Anakin’s shoulders.

Stars and moons and blasted suns, Anakin thinks to himself. 

He turns around. He follows Kenobi’s disappearing figure with his eyes. It’s rather easy to do at least, with how the boy glimmers and glows in the light of the lanterns as he kriffing sashays along the garden path to the elevator bays.

Anakin gnashes his teeth; Anakin’s feet start moving.

—-------

The kriffing idiot goes to the Lower Levels.

Anakin barely has time to hijack a parked speeder and point it towards Kenobi’s when the boy flies his own over the edge of the lot and down at a steep angle.

Too steep of an angle to be going anywhere but to the Lower Levels—alone, looking as he does, dressed as he is.

Anakin curses once more and follows him over the edge.

—--------

He’s just going to make sure nothing bad happens to the boy, that’s all. It’s practically his duty. And as long as Kenobi doesn’t feel him in the Force or see him following him, it won’t be giving into the boy’s whims. As long as the boy doesn’t know he’s there, then he will not think he has won, which is of the utmost importance. 

He has not won. 

This is the thought on repeat in Anakin’s head as he jumps down from his stolen speeder and lands on the ground of Level -214 solidly. Kenobi has already dragged his bike, a lithe, slim model of a speeder, into the crook of an alleyway, as if that’ll be enough to keep it safe.

Anakin lets out an explosive sigh as he watches the glimmering blue and silver figure disappear into the crowd. “Hey,” he barks to a street vendor leaning against the wall next to the mouth of that same alley, lazily using a long stick to stir a pot of foul-smelling, iridescently blue liquid. He tosses him a roll of credits. “That’s, uh. Fifty-eight credits. I’ll give you a hundred more if that bike is still there when I get back. Alright?” 

He doesn’t actually have one hundred more credits, but he knows he certainly looks like a man who does. The vendor seems to believe him, if the eager way he nods is any indication. Good. He can’t let the kriffing princeling’s speeder-bike be stolen, else the idiot would probably ask someone to give him a ride back to his apartments and either end up stolen himself or dead in a gutter.

Speaking of the princeling, Anakin can hardly see him anymore in the crowd, which obviously cannot stand. He throws the hood of his cloak up to cover his face and stalks after the boy.

Kenobi is already turning heads, just as Anakin knew he would, and while he takes a sort of sick satisfaction in being right, the feeling is mostly swallowed by a darker emotion, one that’s much harder to name. His feet pick up their pace as he watches Kenobi round an upcoming bend in the main street, eyes turned upwards as if basking in the neon lights and flickering signs. 

Fucking tourist, Anakin thinks to himself uncharitably even as he follows doggedly, eyes glued on the shifting muscles of Obi-Wan’s back and shoulders as he walks instead of the sentients on the streets around them.

Where is he even going? What does he even want to get out of this little excursion save for a layer of muck and grime on the hems of his robes and the perfume of smoke and liquor and stars know what else clinging to his skin? 

When Anakin visits these levels, it’s for a specific reason, to complete a specific purpose. He does not wander through the levels, he does not need to stop at the vendors or skulk inside the cantinas—though he has been known to indulge in the Lower Level clubs, moreso a decade or two ago than nowadays. 

It’s strange cutting through the crowds of this platform, feeling the slight sway of it beneath his feet as his ears are overwhelmed by the clamor of the inhabitants, as his eyes begin to strain under the barrage of flickering neon lights.

When he’s down here, he is usually heading towards a podrace or coming off the high of one, and this—following Kenobi in his useless, aimless trek—does not feel similar to either scenario. It feels more like he has already lost just by being here, traipsing after Kenobi’s figure like a dog on a leash.

Anakin is so distracted by his thoughts that he almost misses the moment that Kenobi stops.

Or is stopped.

Between one moment and the next, a tall, hulking form melts from the shadows of the cramped alleyway Kenobi has chosen to wander down. It’s a Zephrian, long purple horns curling around their thick and proud forehead, shoulders wider than two Kenobis put together. Their hands fall onto Kenobi, bringing him to a halt at the same time that Anakin realizes that he’s not the only one who has been following Kenobi as a much smaller figure darts forward from just in front of Anakin to launch itself up to land on Kenobi’s exposed and unguarded back, claws sinking into pale flesh and pulling a pained noise from Kenobi’s lips, high-pitched and soft, filled to the brim with surprise.

Its voice begins to chatter loudly in the narrow alley, and the Zephrian’s voice joins in, but Anakin cannot hear any of it over that sound Kenobi had made.

His feet are moving of their own accord, his body pushing roughly through the thin remnants of the crowd to get to Kenobi. 

“I—I don’t carry any credits on me,” Kenobi is saying, voice wobbling from fear or pain, Anakin doesn’t know.

The smaller figure, a Kowakian monkey-lizard, lets out a sound akin to a cackle, and its claws leave Kenobi’s skin to dive into the waves of his hair, grasping at a hair ornament—sapphire and twinkling diamond—and pulling it out of the locks with enough force that it pulls another cry from Kenobi’s lips as his hands raise to defend himself.

A moment later, Anakin is there, hand clenching down onto the Kowakian’s neck and ripping it away from Obi-Wan, the sound of his pain deafening even as it fades from the air. The Kowakian goes flying—Anakin hasn’t used the Force consciously in years, but that has to be what rises up and responds to the push of his hand, that has to be the reason the monkey-lizard slams so hard into the wall of the alleyway that the plaster cracks in multiple places as its body snaps.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, a punched-out, instinctual noise that Anakin has no idea how to interpret. He cannot turn to look at him either, because the Zephrian’s hazy red eyes go wide as he focuses them with what looks like great difficulty on the monkey-lizard’s rather unmoving body.

“Go,” Anakin commands, voice low and quiet, his body carefully moving in front of Kenobi’s as the boy shifted towards him, curled up on himself with one hand pressed to his face as if terribly injured or frightened. The Zephrian steps backwards, mouth twisting, and then steps forward with his mouth stretches into an angry snarl, eyes hazy with drink. The Force reverberates around them with a warning, and the Zephrian takes another aborted step forward, chest heaving.

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan cries, and Anakin’s hand shoots out. The Force runs up and down his arm, like a loth-cat batting at him for affection. You’ve returned, it seems to murmur in the air around them, nuzzling against his mind, his soul. 

He pushes out, picturing the Zephrian going flying as far and as hard as the Kowakian had, and the Force obeys with glee. The would-be attacker’s feet lift off the ground as he’s thrown into the same cracked wall as the monkey. Anakin hears his body connect with the duraplast, but he doesn’t watch it, swinging around fully to glare down at Kenobi.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he’s growling out before he can stop himself, vision turning red as he glowers down at stubborn, willful, beautiful Kenobi. He takes a step forward, and Kenobi does not move except to tilt his head further up.

His eyes are dilated. Fear?

He should be afraid. Anakin has just—Anakin does not know what he’s just done, but there’s no undoing it. The Force is swirling around him like a churning whirlpool, the sort that sucked souls in and spat them out on Kamino for thousands of years. There had been a reason the Jedi warned him against using the Force. A reason he hadn’t touched his connection with it in decades, had simply suffered through its warnings and nudges and prods.

Now all his reasons lay in tatters around him, and the Force is so fucking loud.

Obi-Wan isn’t so much as breathing as he looks up at him, pink lips wet and parted as he allows him to approach, to back him up against the other side of the alley wall.

“What did I tell you?” Anakin snarls, hand falling to rest on Kenobi���s shoulder while the other makes a fist at his side. He’d fucking said—and now someone’s gone and made a mess of Kenobi’s hair; someone’s gone and clawed at his dimpled chin, leaving a long scrape up one cheek, leaving marks across the play of muscles on his back, leaving his eyes wide with fear which never would have happened if he’d just listened. His hand jumps up to smooth out the messy tangle of Kenobi’s hair, tenderness in the face of his fear warring with righteous anger.

“Is that what you wanted to see, princeling?” he murmurs, tightening his grip on Kenobi’s shoulder. “Was that enough of a Lower Levels experience for you?”

The boy shivers.

(Link to the corresponding poll for this fic)

[dyrewrites]

Bloodhound -- never too far

This is the first scene of the series that Before Deluca ties into, and it contains a pretty big spoiler for that book.

->So proceed with caution if you worry of such things<-

It was a beautiful January morning, the first of it even, and the only day Deluca refused to take any cases. Yet there he sat, in his favorite coffeehouse bordering the Canalasso, staring at a quickly cooling cup on his table, wincing for the shouts in his ear.

Do they know when I order, or have I scorned more witches than I remember? Rubbing his brow, he informed the shouts—his contact with local human authorities and a man he knew too well—that he was bothering a detective for Hunter work, “Sono un detective, sergente, non un cacciatore.”

The man was not amused, and snapped, “So fucking detect!”

Smiling for the anger, and switch in language, Deluca chose to tease it into a rage. Swallowing a sip of cooler—but not cold—coffee, he cooed salacious and deep into his phone, “make me.”

Small the gasp, bitten quick, but heard—enjoyed—before the man growled. “Andiamo, Del, sono i tuoi—” the smoke-choked voice coughed, tried again, “I don’t know if they’re vampires, werewolves or just creatures, but they’re yours and this is what you do, isn’t it? Why you’re not hunted by the Co—”

Cutting the man off with a pointed scoff before he could finish the sentence, and further ruin his coffee, Deluca didn’t speak the curses bubbling to follow. He smiled as the angry—frustrated—poliziotto cleared his lungs and whispered to a softer voice heard sudden, and agitated, through the connection.

As the man apologized for the switch to a language his wife didn’t understand, Deluca scanned the delicate lighting of the coffeehouse. While rolling around on his tongue were worse curses, things he could impart to that soft voice with less than a whisper—feeding them into her thoughts with little effort on his own. Manners in which he could ruin the man’s entire life for ruining his coffee…

But he wouldn’t speak those either.

When the placating ended, Deluca returned to the man in his ear and kept his threats clean if not friendly, “Why the English, Alessandro, worried your wife will hear all the filthy things you want to whisper to me?”

The voice in his ear stammered, growled, and huffed before it spoke, “It was once, Del, once. And if I recall correctly you ran off right when things were getting—”

“Good?” More teasing, playing with the man.

“Dangerous, Del, I was going to say dangerous.”

“Deluca, Sergeant, anything less is reserved for lovers,” he savored the repeated huff, the heat he could build despite distance, and it played in his voice, “is that what we are?”

“The disturbances, Deluca, find out what they are, why my people are dying and get whatever it is to follow the fucking rules,” lowering voice and tone, he added, “or I get the Council down here to test that immunity you so enjoy.”

Immunity the word but ownership the meaning. He evaded, kept his hunts distant and careful not to draw their eyes—not to force blame on who owned him—but the Sergeant was an act of starvation. A mistake refusing to wash away. One he continued to make as the man begged him to return again and again...to bite and bleed and drink him raw.

Until he begged for more.

Never too far, Deluca promised himself. “I’ll do what I can, tomorrow,” he promised the Sergeant, sighing again as the line died without a goodbye. He didn’t particularly like the man but he had a sweetly sorrowful taste he enjoyed. And a pleasantly rough touch he’d not enjoy again, how weak I am to want it.

Eighty-Five years.

Deluca managed alone for eighty-five years, content to watch, to experience the closeness he craved as vicarious delights through blood alone. Well, not quite. He was anything but content. He hunted none but men, flirted even, and a few of his feedings were more intimate than he cared to admit.

When they weren’t acts of grotesquery, leaving naught but offal and smears of blood behind.

Never too far, he promise again as he begged forgiveness from one too far to hear, it is all I can do not to shatter without you, my dream. I miss you, want you, love only you.

Silent confessions notwithstanding he would still find himself with lips on neck, hands gripping, teeth hungry...all of him hungry...before shame stabbed and his voice sputtered with command. And, as the men he lured—seduced—were forced to stop, to forget, Deluca sped away wet with guilt and sick with want.

Never too far.

Last January he threw himself off the roof of their house.

[sagesolsticewrites]

from september prompts can i have 28 for vika and benny and 4+8 for jules and brady

thank you in advance hun xx

Thank you so much for the request, Nonnie! I absolutely loved writing these ahhhh 🥰

prompts from this prompt list! inbox is open as always if y'all would like to see more!

Benny & Vika

28.) dark lipstick smeared on a cheek

Vika’s decided she wants to stay in this moment forever.

Surrounded by her friends, talking and laughing, and best of all, perched in Benny’s lap, his arms warm and secure around her waist.

The warmth of his arms around her and the laughter she can feel vibrating in his chest only adds to the happy, fizzy feeling building up inside her. The world is hazy and golden, harsh edges softened by the two martinis she’s already had, and she can’t imagine anything better than this exact moment.

Her gaze focuses on Benny, listening intently to some story Brady’s telling. His warm brown eyes are sparkling in the light of the bar, a rosy flush in his cheeks thanks to the whiskey he’s been sipping at all night, and Vika’s sure he’s never looked prettier. One of her hands drifts up to idly card through the soft waves at the nape of his neck, unable to hide a soft smile at the way he leans into her touch.

Impulsively, clumsily, she leans in and smudges a kiss to one of his rosy cheeks, leaving a dark smear of lipstick behind that she makes no attempt to wipe away.

Benny turns to her with a smile, close enough that their noses brush as he faces her.

“Tesoro,” he murmurs, and she can smell the whiskey, warm and spicy on his breath as his nose bumps against hers, “What was that for?”

“Just because,” Vika giggles softly, lips just barely brushing against his.

“You just…” the words are clumsy on her tongue as she tries to shift closer, despite already being pressed flush against him, “You make me so happy, Benny.”

She can feel him smiling as he leans in, and she practically melts as he murmurs into the kiss.

“You make me happy too, carissima.”

Brady & Jules

4.) red-painted nails

8.) a coat draped gently over a sleeping form

John wanders through the near-silent library, keeping his eyes peeled for Jules. She had told him to meet her there— she wanted to get some studying in before their date that night— and so here he was wandering the aisles of the Cornell University Library in search of his girlfriend. He spots a familiar cascade of dark curls at a table in the corner, and moves closer to investigate.

Well, it is his girl, but he didn’t expect her to be wholly asleep when he arrived.

It’s actually very cute, he thinks, her sweater-clad arms resting on the book pillowed under her head, red-painted nails splayed out over the pages. He debates waking her— if she was tired enough to fall asleep in a library, she certainly needed it— but decides against it.

Instead, he shucks off his jacket and drapes it delicately over her shoulders, moving slowly in the hopes of not waking her… 

But Juliet wakes with a start, green eyes darting around frantically, his jacket slipping off her shoulders and onto the floor.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s just me,” he murmurs, slipping into the seat beside her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder.

She visibly relaxes when she sees John, the tension leaving her body.

“Hey, Johnny,” she says blearily, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes, then jolts as if remembering why he’s there, “Oh gosh, I’m sorry, I thought I’d be done by the time you got here—”

“No, it’s fine sweetheart, I promise. You alright?” He asks, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze to pause her nervous ramble and nodding down to the open book on the table, “How’s the studying going?”

She gives a dry laugh, gesturing to the stack of books beside her “Well, I’ve been stuck on the same chapter for the past hour— at least, I was before I fell asleep— if that’s any indication.“

She sighs, “I’m sorry, honey, I don’t think I’m up for going out tonight. I’ve still got so much to get through before this test tomorrow.”

“Do you want some help?”

“I—” She blinks in surprise. She’d been expecting him to kindly reschedule their date and leave her to finish studying, not… 

“You… you want to help?”

“Of course,” John says, “Come on, just walk me through it. What’s the test on?”

“It’s for my History of American Education course, we’re focusing on the early 1800s at the moment.”

“… ah.”

Juliet barely holds back a laugh at the blank look on his face.

“You don’t have to stay, sweetheart—”

“No, no, I want to,” he assures her hurriedly, smiling. He thinks for a moment, then: “Just walk me through it like you’re teaching me, hm? That tends to help my friends and I in our history classes.”

“Alright…,” Juliet nods, turning her attention back to the book, then abruptly turning back to her boyfriend. 

Her green eyes are soft, grateful as she says, “I— thank you, Johnny. I know this isn’t exactly how you wanted to spend date night.”

“Sweetheart,” John says softly, placing one hand over hers, “I’m happy spending time with you no matter what we do. I—”

No. He can’t tell her that yet— or at least not tonight.

“I love being with you.” He continues clumsily, covering with a joke, “Even when being with you involves learning about 19th century American education.”

“I’ll make it interesting, I promise,” Juliet grins.

John sees that sparkle in her eye— the one she gets when going on a Shakespeare ramble or when she talks about her future teaching plans— and he knows she means it.

“I know you will, Jules.”

[neonponders]

Part 40 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🧜🏻‍♂️ ~ marine biologist!Steve x shark!Billy with his pilot fish guppies 🍣

Part 37 & 38 & 39 (merman!Billy x marine biologist!Steve)

Part 36 (main plot)

Part 31 & 32 (werewolf!Billy chapters haha)

( pt. 7′s art 🎩 ) ( pt. 9′s art 👀 ) ( pt. 14′s art 💨 ) ( pt. 19′s art 🦇 ) ( pt. 20′s art 🍳) ( pt. 27’s art 🦦 )

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Steve had a plan. It wasn't the brightest plan, but he tested it in his apartment, and it worked.

Knowing where Billy lived allowed Steve to go there as soon as low tide opened the entrance in the cliffs. It wasn't elegant, towing an extra kayak behind him, but he would be able to set up a sturdy tent across two kayaks on Billy's beach. Just in case the tide made it to the grass, the kayaks would float, and Steve would be safe in an anchored house boat, of sorts.

He had two days off in a row. Sue him for being a nerd for his job. Even though he had stopped being any sort of scientist to Billy and his pilots a long time ago.

Threading the needle of the cave entrance involved just as much kayak wrangling as he expected, but the smooth waters of the tunnels made the cruise easy. He'd forgotten how deep inside the cliffs Billy's home went, but the path was straightforward. Once on the beach, he hauled the other kayak onto the bushy grass, and turned on a little water-resistant radio. Just something to help him feel connected to civilization. And because Billy might be away somewhere. Steve needed something to preoccupy his thoughts.

It had occurred to Steve to microchip him, but he had no idea how to approach that conversation. It might be a severe breech of merman etiquette, for all he knew. Sharks generally didn't exactly volunteer to being caught and retrofitted with gadgets.

Bowie's "Let's Dance" started on the station. Steve's arching fringe bobbed over his face as he unpacked and mumbled along. "Put on your red shoes and dance the blues..."

Rope. Lots of rope. And the cooler. Not to mention a small first aid kit. Steve might have spent a small fortune on a tree house-sorta tent for its sturdy floor but it will be nice to not have to leave as soon as his skin started to fry.

"While the color lights up your face, let's sway..."

Steve couldn't say how he knew. Maybe the water just moved differently with a disturbance in the surface, causing the noise to change. Maybe the shark had simply been in his head for so long, the stream of consciousness worked both ways. Either way, he turned around and found Billy watching him.

"Hey! I don't have to be anywhere today or tomorrow. I thought I'd stick around for a change. Is that okay?"

Billy didn't answer. His attention sank to the radio, and he climbed on his belly over the beach for a closer look. Steve's stomach began to sink until he heard the small but strong voice of his little in the water. "Werwe you singing, Stevie?"

"Uh, yeah. I like this song - it won't work as well underwater," he rushed as Billy handled the radio.

"Is it twue?" small Billy asked.

Steve knelt on the beach to be more in line of hearing him. "Is what true?"

"You'rwe staying?"

What felt like a brilliant way to spend his days off had since wilted into uncertainty. He nodded. "Today and tomorrow...if that's okay? I can go if you want me to."

Small Billy pointed. Steve wasn't sure at what until he said, "Then fix him!"

He stared point blank at Billy ruining the song by pressing buttons and toggling the FM knob. "In general?"

Then small Steve exclaimed, "He's weaking! Wred!"

Red...leaking... Steve watched Billy look back at his fish with an accusatory glare, but the curve of his body left a red smear on the stone beach. Steve jumped right over him to see his other side, where the injury had been hidden from him until now. Steve's mind oscillated between Billy and the littles, physically jerking his head back and forth until he froze and rearranged his priorities. Even if they were in Billy's home, anything could swim right in.

"Wait, wait, scoot back. Stay close to them. Keep this side up."

The littles rode a tiny wave to land on Billy's palms, for the most part beached there until water lapped over them. With the the small guys safe, Steve focused on the wound between Billy's ribs. All the while, his brain echoed, I'm not a vet. I'm not a vet. But he knew what a fresh injury looked like, unless Billy was having trouble clotting in the water.

"Uh...was this recent?"

"When it was dawrk," small Billy answered.

"When Biwwy came back with food," little Steve seconded.

The bigger Steve exhaled deeply. It wasn't long ago that the sky was still dark, and a lot of fish would have been active. "I guess the food fought back this time."

Billy's eyes rolled, until Steve cupped seawater and splashed his ribs to try and see the injury better. "How big of a breath can you take?"

Billy's eyes closed solemnly, implying pain, but his ribs and gills expanded as much as they usually do. Steve heaved with relief. "Your gills look okay. On the inside, at least. I can clean this but I need you to dry off a little."

Steve blinked, eyes blowing wide when Billy spoke, low and gravely. "What do you mean, clean? "

"Did something bite you? Scratch you? Did rocks or a reef do this? Wounds can get infected. You're not leaking too fast, so I just need to clean you and maybe my antiseptic gel will cover things well enough until you have scabs."

"I...I don't understand," Billy tried.

Steve realized the only thing keeping him from panicking was hundreds of hours of biology lab where he'd been forced to figure out meditative breathing for steady hands on a scalpel. Until he had something to do with his hands, though, the panic crept closer like surf over sand.

Steve reached for Billy's face. After Billy's turquoise blues burned his retinas enough to linger even in the darkness, he closed his eyes as he kissed Billy's mouth. Then he said meanly, "I'm trying to keep you alive, you stupid fish."

"Say that again," he growled.

"No, you stay still."

He had seen Billy dry before - sunbathing - but Steve used cotton pads to dry just directly over the injuries. Billy looked like something sharp had dragged over his ribs, a couple of the cuts having caught a little inside the curved, bouncy bones.

He glanced at the littles. "I need you to let go of them."

"What?" little Steve squawked. "Why?"

"Because this next part is going to hurt and I don't want him to squeeze you."

Small Billy huffed, "On'y one in danger is you, Stevie."

He glanced at Billy's notorious tail. "You're right," he sighed, and turned a bottle of hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton pad. For small injuries, the stuff wasn't so bad. For big ones? It prickled something awful, and Steve knew the exact instant that Billy grimaced, because he felt like a fist had taken a firm grip on his brain. The last thing Steve coherently thought was, Ow, as his head hit the stone beach.

He woke to tiny, warm hands pulling on his ear.

"Stevie? Wake up."

"Too cwose to water, Stevie. Come on."

Water crawled under his head, moving his hair around before dragging it back down the beach. The littles huddled next to his cheek, patting his skin until the water pulled them down and they held onto the curve of his ear.

He blinked, waiting for the green and gold sinkhole above him to get clearer and clearer. When it seemed good enough, he mentally scanned his body. No alarm bells shrieked. Rolling onto his side, he curved an arm around his head so the littles could have a wading pool when they let go of him. With the blood shifting to one side of his brain, that's as far as he got.

"Ugh," he breathed, pillowing his cheek on his bicep. The water swayed up to his lips, but he still had time before he needed to move.

There had been various points in his life when he wondered how he might die. Bored in a small town made a drunk car accident likely, until he did the impossible and managed to transfer from community college into a university. Then his life seemed on a safe track, apart from the general dangers of boating on the ocean. Now Steve knew with annoying certainty: I'm going to have a brain hemorrhage from this fish.

A slightly vocal hiss made his eyes find the fish in question. But what he saw made his head lift a little. Billy patted the soaked cotton over himself. Steve couldn't have been unconscious for long, then...

"They just need to bubble a couple times," he said carefully, still not sure of his own condition. "Then use the stuff in the tube to seal the broken skin."

Small Billy asked, "Why's it bubb'w like a fizzy dwink?"

"It's killing the germs. Really, it reacts to anything, but the germs are definitely gone."

"Do fizzy dwinks kill bad stuff?"

Steve laughed a little. " 'Fraid not. We'd be immortal if they did."

He could hear the plastic cap leaving the tube. He started to say, "Just smear it on," but Billy eased beside him. His long body made an even better pool for the littles to swim to him, as well as blocking Steve from the rising tide in the cave. The littles' tiny hands touched him as if they needed the contact as much as their shark.

Billy had squeezed quite a curl of the cloudy, stiff gel out of the tube. Steve caught it and rubbed it over his fingertips. One by one, he sealed his stubborn merman's injuries, taking special care of going inside the curves of his ribs. When they shuddered, Billy almost whispered, "Tickles."

"Stop squeezing the tube," Steve said, but then Billy's claws raked through his hair. Between the pull on his hair and the push of Billy's elbow against his chest, Steve rolled onto his back. Billy's thumb spread gel over his forehead, the ridge of his eye socket, and cheekbone. "I guess I landed and slid."

Billy hummed a confirming sound. Eventually, Steve realized he'd stopped applying medicine and was just...petting him. The scratch of his nails on Steve's scalp felt good. Tingly. He wondered if Billy could feel it in his own brain.

"Build your castle."

Steve blinked out of his doze. "It's a tent."

"Whatever."

Steve blew air out of his lips so they vibrated, which the littles immediately copied. He smiled and carefully made his way to the cooler first. Food seemed a good idea, especially when it didn't fight back.

Little Steve discovered he loved pickles. The Billys, not so much. They liked the fillings of Steve's sandwich, but not the bread.

Steve got the radio working again and erected his tent over the kayaks. His usual dumbbell anchor would hang in between the kayaks if high tide got this far. It wasn't much, but he'd had to lug it all over here, after all. It should be enough for the tame current in here.

Billy promptly drew Steve into the water, but held Steve's back against his chest as he swam them in lazy circles. "Sing again."

Steve didn't know the song on the radio now, but he could pick up the patterns of the instruments. He scatted along to the various melodies, enjoying the littles sometimes drumming along on his skin.

"What do you cawll this?" small Billy asked.

"Groovy," Steve answered, pressing his fingertips into the water like a keyboard.

"Gwoovy!" small Steve sang.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Survivor's Blood (Leon x Reader) - Chapter 4

Survivor's Blood

Pairing: Leon x Reader

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 (you are here!)

Summary: After Raccoon City, Leon became the only Government agent with that kind of expertise. With relentless training, he was now a Special Agent - again, on his first day in the job. He just didn’t expect to live Raccoon City all over again… Maybe Leon was fated to always have the worst first-days-at-work ever.

Age Restriction: 18+. It’s horror, so expect a lot of graphic violence and blood dripping from this. I mean, VERY GRAPHICAL VIOLENCE. Nothing we haven’t seen on RE, but still. Yee been warned

TRIGGER WARNING: There are explosions, fights and the reader gets considerably injured - broken ribs, glass stuck in skin... That sort of thing.

Author's notes: It took me a while for this update - thanks so much for waiting! My health has been going through some ups and downs, but I'll always be back to posting ;)

This time, we have a little shorter chapter, but hey, you're meeting Mr. Kennedy himself! And beating some zombies with an umbrella.

Chapter 4

Magical Donuts, April 29th, 2001 – 21h43

During all your life in New Setosa, you never felt so happy to see the Magical Donuts in the distance. Of course, you loved its sweets. But the perspective of meeting Leon – and finally having a useful gun – amidst that apocalypse made you happier than being able to eat a dozen guilty free donuts.

You hadn’t called each other for a while: Leon focused on his path and you did the same. Luckily, you didn’t have to test the utility of the umbrella as a weapon yet, but you couldn’t say the same for him – Leon had to waste a few bullets, even if he didn’t want to.

Also differently from you, Leon was already inside the diner: a wide place, with its decoration arguably cute and sugary, contrasting with the blood smeared on the walls and the floor as well as the dead people and the zombies Leon had to waste ammo to kill. He was careful enough to clear the kitchen and bathrooms, just to be sure you wouldn’t have any kind of surprises when you two met.

You, in the other hand, walked quietly through the streets, firmly holding the umbrella. You managed to lose all zombies along the way, but you saw a few right ahead – roaming flaming cars, continuously hitting store fronts – which wouldn’t be as easy to leave behind. At least, not on the path you were making.

“Ok…” You took a deep breath, holding the umbrella with both of your hands. “It’s showtime.”

With resolute steps, you marched towards the undead, in an obvious route towards the Magical Donuts. The intention was to hit the very first one who saw you and then run as if there was no tomorrow – Leon had better be there already, because he hadn’t talked to you in a while and all you needed at the moment were a few well-placed shots.

You just weren’t expecting to be caught off-guard by a zombie who threw itself towards you from a little dark street by your side: hands reaching out and mouth wide open, ready to get you.

“Shit! Get off!” As you screamed, you managed to dodge and slipped on your own feet, falling without even letting go of the umbrella. That drew all the attention to you; the zombies already dragging themselves to your direction. “Ok, then! C’mon!”

Quickly back on your feet again, you didn’t think twice before hitting one of the undead on the face with the umbrella. Its blood flew on the streets, staining your tank top while the zombie crumbled to the floor like rotten fruit.

As soon as he heard your scream outside and all the zombie commotion, Leon turned his attention to one of the big windows of the Magical Donuts. He was ready to help you when you took your faithful umbrella and started smashing zombies, unrelentingly.

Leon didn’t want to admit, but that scene was at least a little funny, considering the situation. He couldn’t stop himself from furrowing his eyebrows and letting out a quick laugh.

“’Cmon’? Really?” He asked himself while checking his ammo and leaving the shop. “Y/n’s crazy, huh?”

But you were fearless with your umbrella, avoiding attacks as you could and slowly, but surely, approaching the donut shop. Hitting another undead and pushing it on the others, you turned around.

“Leon!” And you couldn’t stop yourself from opening a big smile of relief when seeing him in that apparent world’s end. Even if you didn’t know him, that guy could only be Leon.

“Y/n!” He readied his handgun, already aiming at the zombies behind you. “Get down!”

You didn’t think twice. Before getting up again, you heard two shots, running towards Leon right after. You were so close to the diner.

One of the undead, though, suddenly sprinted towards you, entangling its bony hands on your hair. You screamed and let go of the umbrella, fighting to get rid of those claws, avoiding the bloody teeth that searched for your neck at all costs. Leon screamed something you couldn’t understand at the moment – and continued without understanding even after you got rid of that creature and threw it with all your might in a nearby car, engulfed in flames.

All you were able to understand was a loud explosion while your body flew in the air, hitting a police car almost on the other side of the street – luckily, though, almost next to the door of the Magical Donuts.

“Y/n! Son of a bitch!” Leon managed to scream as soon as he saw you in the air. He had to get rid of the remaining zombies and, now that you were injured, he wouldn’t save ammo to do so.

With a few shots, Leon killed almost all of them, missing only two. You tried to get up from the floor, your feet slipping in the dirt while you moaned and held the left side of your ribs. That had definitely caught you by surprise, but you didn’t hesitate when Leon offered you his hand.

“Hold in there, y/n!” When his hand held yours, harsh from the tactical gloves, Leon pulled you up with a single swift movement, making you moan in pain while you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. With one of his hands firm against your waist, Leon only stopped to shoot the last remaining zombies – with Matilda back in the harness, he helped you find a safe spot inside the Magical Donuts.

He was careful enough to find a seat that wasn’t dripping with blood so you could sit down. As you did, you closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths, still keeping pressure on your ribs.

“Hey, y/n. Everything ok? Talk to me.” Leon kneeled in front of you, resting his hands on your knees. Your head hanged low, and it looked like you were everything but fine.

“It’s spinnin’. And my right ear is ringin’.” Your answer was a little slurred, but more centered than he initially expected. He had to make sure you didn’t have any serious injuries on your head.

“Ok. Deep breaths, stay like this for a while.” While he spoke, Leon took one of his hands to your head, caressing your hair in search for blood or any kind of serious injury. That, though, helped you ground a little quicker. “Hmmm, it looks like you didn’t hit your head. Anywhere around here is hurtin’?”

“No.” And your speech wasn’t slurred anymore, even if you kept your eyes closed. “Not in the head. Only down here.”

Leon turned his attention to your ribs, where you signaled the pain. Indeed, he didn’t want to say it out loud, but he could see a stream of blood flowing between your fingers. He just had to know if that blood was yours or from one of those things you bravely fought against with your mighty umbrella.

“I’ll have to take a look, can I…?” Leon’s hands approached your injury as he lifted his eyes to yours. Opening your own eyes, you focused on his face for a while, observing Leon in order to make sure your vision wasn’t going to turn blurry again.

“Yeah. Nice to meet you, Leon Kennedy.” Your answer came with a little smile on your lips, making him mirror your expression.

“It’s nice to meet you too, y/n. What a way to meet, huh?” He spoke casually, distancing your hand from your shirt. He found a bloodstain filled with glass shards and, upon touching it, Leon realized it could be a little worse than he first thought. “Hmmm… I need to lift your shirt to see how it looks down there, ok?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” You sighed in return, resting your elbow on the table nearby and using your hand to rest your head while watching Leon carefully working on you. He was surprisingly gentle for such a badass looking guy. “I’ve had better days here at the Magical Donuts.”

“Yeah, I can imagine.” His laugh had nothing of amusing in it while he remembered thinking the same thing upon walking through what was left of Raccoon City. With your shirt up, Leon found a considerable bruise that promised to get worse, aside from the glass shards – probably from the police car’s window – that bit your skin and made you bleed. Carefully, he ran his fingers where your bones would be, and where the bruise looked worse, making you flinch for a moment. “Look, best scenario, you got one hell of a hit and you’ll get a nasty lookin’ bruise. Worst scenario, you got a broken rib.”

“I’ve definitely had better days.” You had pure desolation in your eyes, making him give you a sad smile as an answer. Your look immediately turned around as you pointed back at him with resolve. “Don’t even think about getting rid of me. Patch me up and let’s get moving before it’s too late for the survivors at the hospital.”

Leon rested his hands on his own legs, sighing while shaking his head.

“You’re quite the stubborn little thing, huh…?”

“Yep.” You allowed yourself a little smile, curiously watching Leon as he prepared his first aid emergency kit scattered around the pouches on his belt. Very practical to carry things he found around, something he learned the hard way. “I need to be headstrong to end the reign of terror of companies like Umbrella.”

“You need to be brave.” Even if you had humor in your voice, Leon’s correction was serious as he had already started cleaning the glass shards from your bruises. You wrinkled your nose and did your best not to complain about the pain. “To get all the way down here with a tactical team, you already have to be brave. With an umbrella, then?”

As he mentioned the umbrella, you exchanged a quick look and started laughing. Indeed, that wouldn’t be quickly forgotten.

“Can you imagine if I had chosen the stapler?” You gave Leon a side look, making him laugh even more. “Maybe it would’ve been a good idea, I could’ve clipped one zombie on the other and ran like hell.”

“With ideas like these, I just might make you the team’s tactical coordinator.” He raised one brow, making you shake your head while smiling. It was good for you both to relieve some of the tension: clearing the glass shards would be a lot easier if your head thought of something else. “I bet Chris would love the idea of clipping zombies together and then beating the shit out of them.”

“Claire’s brother?” As you asked back, Leon nodded while taking a little hydrogen peroxide bottle from his first aid pockets to clean the blood. “Oh, they told me he’s becoming one of those gym bodybuilders, is that true?”

“Yeah. At this rate, soon he’ll be able to punch a boulder in half.” Leon even laughed a little upon imagining that, but he didn’t doubt his own joke; he had a weird feeling that could come to happen, especially if it meant ending Umbrella once and for all. But he stopped thinking about it when you hissed as he started wiping the blood away from the wound. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, it’s alright...” And you rested your head on your hand once more. “It isn’t the first time I get hurt in the field.”

“Hmmm, it looks like your occupation isn’t the calmest out there as well.” He was doing his best to keep you distracted, already readying the gauze to wrap you under your shirt and stop the bleeding. The lesser the blood, the lesser the smell of fresh meat to attract the undead outside.

“I don’t get in trouble quite often, but I already had to deal with a few complicated situations. Specially when the people in power positions don’t want us poking around and asking questions.” You closed your eyes, waiting for him to finish. Although you were in pain, Leon was incredibly gentle while patching you up. “But I like it. There’s a huge trend of hiding big crimes in conflict zones under the rug. Someone has to bring those things back to the public eye.”

Leon observed you for a while and you only didn’t notice it for your own eyes were still closed. You weren’t that different from each other: Leon started as a police officer precisely because he wanted to bring criminals to Justice. He ended up as a Special Agent, but that was still a good perspective – as long as he knew how to use that position to do what he originally wanted, not only sit around giving orders.

“Why didn’t you try to be a cop? Or tried the FBI, maybe?”

“There’s too much corruption.” A little sadness could be heard in your tired sigh as you opened your eyes again. “That’s what I originally thought when I got into college. But as I finished my studies, a lot of corruption scandals started pouring like water and I lost all hopes. I didn’t want to defend just the interest of those rich or powerful enough to get a good lawyer, you know? It’s like I said before… Do you think no one in Raccoon knew about Umbrella?”

Leon fell silent while on the finishing touches. He remembered very well Ada’s FBI ID as they met for the first time – and he also remembered the bitter taste when he found out she was a mercenary who only used him to steal the G-virus and sell it to the highest bidder. Or, at least, that was what he preferred to believe, even if he knew that, in the end, she would never kill him – and that Leon could never fully trust Ada, even if he tried to.

“A lot of people knew about it. And a lot of people got a good amount of money to shut up too.” He shook his head, finishing his job and lowering your shirt carefully. “Well, everything ok down there for the time being. Can you get up?”

As soon as he asked, Leon got up and offered you his hands to help you, making you raise one eyebrow.

“Of course I can, I’m not that bad, cowboy.” And, naturally, you made sure to stand up on your own, even if you had to use one of Leon’s hands as leverage when you realized you needed a little help. Of course, he wouldn’t annoy you about it; Leon was certainly happy seeing you able to watch over yourself. “But thanks.”

“Hey, no worries. You already did me a huge favor with the broadcast, it’s the least I can do to help.” With that, he took a few steps back, watching as you moved your arms and legs in a little warm up to see if you could still move properly. “How’s the pain?”

“Bad, but it could be worse, I think.” Your answer was honest, with a humorless laugh. “I can manage it. I think that is the best answer.”

“Hmmm… Take one of these.” He gave you a white pill from one of his many pockets. “It’s for the pain, it’ll help you at least until we get some proper medical assistance.”

“Thanks again.” You bit the pill, feeling the bitter taste take over your mouth. It wasn’t the best way to take a medicine, but that’s what you had for the moment. “We’re going to the hospital now? If we take too long, we won’t get there on time.”

“Yeah. Can you shoot?” You nodded as he asked, making him flash a small smile. Leon gave you a handgun, alongside a flashlight that would be quite useful in all that darkness. With that, he offered you some ammo. “Here, three mags for your gun. I have more if you need them, you just have to ask. I’ll lead and you’ll give me back up. Ready?”

As soon as Leon gave all instructions, you checked the ammo, loaded the gun, pulled the lock with a click and looked back at him. Leon tried to stop himself from smiling – a little impressed, if he was going to be honest.

“Ready, Kennedy. I know my way around guns.” You winked back at him as a joke, making Leon follow you towards the door of the Magical Donuts, shaking his head while smiling.

You had better be ready, for things were just about to get complicated.

[nuwildcat]

Cocktails and an Irish WIP Wednesday

Happy WIP Wednesday Team! I know it’s stab Caesar Day, but it will shortly be St. Paddy’s Day and given my Irish roots I decided to dip my toe into writing some fae lore. While torturing myself with this I managed to pull @luckydragon10​ in with me! We’ve both crafted some Gaelic stories for your enjoyment with a nice side bonus of monster fucking, because why not?

Silvered Perceptions is getting an update tomorrow! Because of that you all are getting a cocktail recipe here!

The High Horse

Chill a Martini glass using ice and set aside.

1 1/2 ounces aged rum

1/2 ounce kirsch brandy

1/2 ounce cherry liqueur

1/2 ounce sweet vermouth

2 dashes Angostura bitters

Combine in a mixing glass with ice. Stir mixture until well chilled, 30-45 seconds. Strain into chilled Martini glass and garnish with a brandied cherry.

As for our Irish Snippet! I have wandered into uncharted territories here. @dr-lemurr​ is all to blame here for tossing an awesome prompt into the KP Kink Meme. So for this fic you’ve got a new flavor from me, Kim/Chay! Here’s a little taste test for you before it gets posted on Friday with Nemi’s beasty.

Without further ado, I give you a sample of The Death of Autumn:

All around him, autumn is slowly dying, the frost creeping in and leeching the life away from plants that will go dormant over the winter. Bugs no longer hum in the air and animals have gone sleepy and quiet. The silence of winter is starting to descend.

The tug in Chay’s gut lights up as he thinks, like a compass pointing him due north. He scrambles up, smearing mud on his sweater and knocking dried leaves from the seat of his pants. He plods off in the direction his instincts are calling. The song that he created with Kim is humming underneath his skin, and Chay has to let it out. 

It doesn’t take long for him to come to a clearing. Chay knows this part of the woods. In the summer this field is full of flowers, now it is a dullish brown. He can see a figure standing across the way, shrouded in shadows despite the fact that the sun has not yet fully set. Chay steps out into the field and tries to get a better look at the figure. In doing so he freezes in place, stunned by what he sees.

It’s been unraveling in his head the whole day, clues and hints that he hadn’t put together at the time. The things Kim was doing that didn’t add up, or couldn’t be explained. All of it pointed to the fact that Kim was not the human he masqueraded as. Chay is now certain that the boy he met a few weeks ago is in fact fae. As he approaches the shadowed figure, he knows it’s Kim.

Chay isn’t afraid. He’s never truly been afraid of Kim, even when he should have been. But this isn’t Kim. This isn’t the awkward man who watched him in the woods. This isn’t the man who has kept Chay company while Porsche is missing. This is something else entirely.

If you need a little more Irish in your life go check out Nemi’s little snippet! Sealed with a Kiss, I both love and hate the pun...

[walliswithawhy]

Dear Da,

It's the blasted mud that makes me feel most at home. That and the wind. It sets a chill into my bones that reminds me of home. I have been camped within sight of the ruins and, by extension, the Stormgate for a good while now. Perhaps I could charge passed this place, inwards and upwards, or if I am very careful, employ a little stealth. I think that I shan’t though, and my reasons are twofold: regarding stealth, well, it’s not a surprise to anyone that subtlety fails to be my strongest point. I blame the armour, but in this place I daren’t go without it. Mayhap if I went in a storm, but that poses as much a hindrance to my perception as it would the guards.

My second reason is by and large the greater reason: I am here to test my mettle, and if it is so fragile as to be squashed here, then I am not fit to undertake this pilgrimage. I will not delude myself into thinking that every foe that I face I will be able to circle wide around. Some will descend upon me unawares, as that horrid thing which first greeted me in this land did, some will simply be inevitable. And if I have learned but a single lesson, then it is that there is merit in facing a fight which cannot be escaped, rather than trying to forestall it. There are some things which much must come to pass.

So I must challenge these guards who stand in my path. I must overcome them, or I am not fit to move on.

My new companion seems deeply unimpressed by this stubbornness, but perhaps I am simply projecting. The beast which was granted to me by the mysterious lady who also offered to be… a guide to me, in exchange for me to be an escort to her (seems odd that she should need one, given her ability to manifest out of thin air and give any poor soul a fright liable to petrify their own heart, but who am I to question the oddness of this place—sometimes I wonder that it is not some grand dream for it feels as disjointed and ethereal as one sometimes) is perfectly intelligent but cannot communicate with me—

(Here there is a smear of charcoal as if the the writer fumbled terribly, followed by a small, darkish red brown stain)

Blasted winged wretches! They’ll be the bane of me yet. The biggest bats I’ve ever seen, and they like to dive in and try to rip my head from my shoulders. Foul things, they’ll think twice when I take their heads off their shoulders.

But I must rest. I challenge a Knight of no middling skill tomorrow. I wonder that I do not see some exasperation in their stance now, when they see me stand in their path. Then again, I suppose I would feel much the same if I were to be incessantly pestered by one with such a propensity for weed-like behaviour. But in their ability with a weapon and their brutality, they have much to teach me, and I will take every lesson that I am offered if it hones me into a sharper blade.

Sincerely, Wallis

First | Next

[iwritewthwine]

Chapter 25 everything is fine! [muffled scream]

semi-written

The day has finally come around, the day that you can make something and display them in the display case to be sold at the cafe. Technically, for tomorrow, while you’re standing in the kitchen with a Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse apron on. The kitchen counters are cluttered with sheet pans, flour, and berries, as well as some on your face, but only partially.

“Yn?” Seungkwan walks around from the counter, eyes gazing around the kitchen, “Have you been making fruit tarts this entire time?”

“Oh, yeah, I have. My crust needs improvements. Fruit tart crusts are delicate. They have to be perfect. Crunchy, when you bite but not too crunchy that it falls apart and not too soft either. It has to be the perfect ratio of golden. There’s the glaze for it too. The fruits as well, the right fruit pairing has to be perfect,” You let out a long breath. Seungkwan blinks after hearing the long airy sentence from you, and the way your hands were so animated and flailing in the air. 

“Maybe you should calm down for a second? Or like take a break?” Seungkwan questions, slightly stepping back just in case you stepped forward to derail that question of his. Softly breathing in and out, you stared at the pans in the kitchen sink and the other pan on the kitchen counter, plus the cooled-down crusts set on the cooling rack. 

“You are right. I need a break. I made these before. I don’t know why I’m so freaked out” You sighed sitting on the bar chair with your hands splayed on top of the cool counter.

“Fruit tarts are your favorites. Maybe you’re just stressed because you’re making them for the cafe? You shouldn’t stress about that. People are going to love them. I’m already going to stop by and buy at least 2. Two is considerate. Chan said he was going to buy all of them.” Seungkwan chuckled, sitting in the next chair.

You laughed softly at his statement. “Seungcheol said that too. That he would buy all of it.”

“Hey, you said that you and Seungcheol are going to his gym trainer’s wedding later in July? Are you okay going alone with him?” The question coming from Seungkwan didn’t stop you too much until you actually thought about it. Driving for hours, perhaps even driving a day ahead, being alone with Seungcheol in a hotel. Alone. In a hotel. Your eyes widened at the thought of being alone with him. What if the hotel room really does only have one bed? And the possibility of seeing him naked when he goes to the bathroom for a shower and when he comes out. What if he sleeps in the nude?

“Yn!” Seungkwan’s voice brought you back from whatever intrusive thoughts brewing in your mind. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Besides, it’s just like traveling with you guys. Minus the squabble. Or maybe there will be a squabble? It’s fine, it’s going to be fine and then we can have all the fun at the camping site. And speaking of going camping, what else do we need? We have that one tent in the garage and the memory foam bed we don’t use is still in its box.”

Seungkwan had a look on his face, despite what he felt on the inside he just assumed you had things figured out. For now, that is. 

On the day of the display, you were rolling out the dough for the crust, flour smeared all over your work apron, and specks of remnants over your face. Countdown begins and all eyes will be on the display case. You have practiced and practiced it for weeks, and tested them on the besties to which they grew tired and slightly angry that fruit tarts were served from morning to night. Peeking from behind the kitchen door, you peer onto the cafe lobby, watching customers order their pastries and drinks. Softly biting onto your bottom lip when you notice your group of friends, happily chatting with one another at a table and the butterflies or maybe something else stirring in your stomach.

The mantra of taking deep breaths while counting down from ten, as you wipe your non-sweating hands but definitely, flour-smeared on the apron. You took a tentative step out the kitchen door, carefully trying to not expose yourself too much and stepping behind Chan because that boy would never figure things out instantly. (Not the case for today)

“Yn!” Seokmin’s cheery and booming voice drew you out from your hiding spot behind Chan. “We just ordered the special pastry for today. They look so cute and delectable in the display case.” Seokmin’s widened smile (his lips and eyes) didn’t fade. If there was one person in your friend group who always makes your stress level disappear, that would be Seokmin.

“Thank you so much, Seok. Even though I'm still fully anxious about it all.” You tried to mask a happy grin. Hands rubbing softly at the sides of your apron, while your eyes scan the cafe. Your eyes landed on Wonwoo at the far corner table, he was sitting with a group of people (most likely his friends). Unknowingly tilting onto your toes as you peer forward, hands flying on top of Chan's shoulders as he squeaks an "auf" sound from the impact.

“Geez, Yn, apply all your weight on me,” Chan complains, his shoulders moving from how pressed your hands are on them. “Hmm” was the only sound that came out of you, completely unfocused on what Chan was saying. As the thing in front of you was more interesting. Wonwoo with a group of people and if the cafe was a little less crowded you could see more of the group's faces. Slightly adjusting yourself as you peer further, with your chin settled on Chan's head and hands pushing his shoulders more. A light gasp comes out of your mouth at the sight. Seungcheol? Among the group with Wonwoo. "Are they friends?" to "Do they know each other?" floated around in your mind.

“Yn!” Chan's voice echoes loudly to get your hands off of his shoulders and step back. "What are you even looking at being so  occupied like that?" 

"I, uhm," you stammer, eyes lightly looking over at Wonwoo and his group. Flustered when you noticed his gaze staring back in your direction. "Overthinking about the fruit tarts." You lied. 

"Your fruit tarts are delicious." Seungkwan chimed in.

"I regret complaining about them when you made so much at home," Soonyoung mumbled with a mouth full of fruit tarts.

"What are you looking at?" Minghao asks. His head turned slightly towards the direction you were gazing at. His eyes find exactly the person you're glancing at as he turns back to you. "Is that Wonwoo?" He asks blatantly. Grabbing attention from the rest. 

"What?" Chan's mouth falls open and a small piece of the crust falls onto the plate. Turning his head in all directions and finding Wonwoo, which he found along with Hansol and the rest of the group.

"That's Jeonghan. And Seungcheol?" Joshua looks at their group and back, flabbergasted about how large Jeonghan's group of friends is.

"I rest my case about befriending friends in the weirdest situation." Seungkwan nods his head, finishing off the fruit tart in front of him. 

“Let’s go and say hello.” Soonyoung stands up from his chair, taking the remaining of his fruit tart in his hand as he strolls over to the table.

“Soonyoung, wait,” your voice comes out a whisper, softly exhaling when Seokmin walks over to your side and takes your hand in his. Glancing at his hand and then up at his face, seeing the soft nod and grin on him. “I didn’t know if you were wondering.”

“It’s fine. None of us knew. As Seungkwan said, we befriend friends in the weirdest circumstances. We didn’t know. I don’t even think they know but you’re close to them both, right? Might as well.” He shrugged his shoulders, squeezing your hand softly against his. “Besides, it’s like you didn’t develop feelings for them so it is fine.”

Your eyes shift away, glancing at the cafe decor, the plants, and the sleepy kitties settled in their usual spots. A faint chuckle from your lips “Yeah. That’s right. No such thing. I don’t need a man in my life. I mean, you guys are men but like not that kind of man. A man in a relationship, bleh, stressful.” You squeeze Seokmin’s hand tightly as you reached their table, Wonwoo’s eyes finding you first and then Seungcheol and that flutter in your stomach from earlier about the fruit tarts intensive. Catching feelings is hard, especially catching feelings for two guys who just happened to be close friends.

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Frequency (noun): 1.) the rate at which something occurs or is repeated over a particular period of time or in a given sample.

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[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

I would like to see what you'd do with love prompt number 10 for Elriel. :) 10. Scolding them for doing something stupid, wondering "why did I have to fall for you" and not realising that you just said that out loud

Thanks for sending this in 🤍 Here you go! Hope you like it :)

Elain sat on the sterile steel bench behind a beige curtain in one of the small suits at the local hospital. Her legs swung off the edge, her denim shorts smeared with mud and her worn in lavender Vans caked in it too. She sported grazes all up her legs, a nasty looking gash on her temple, and her arm was now encased in plaster.

All in all, she looked more banged up than she felt, the worst of her injuries being the hairline fracture to her left wrist. It only ached a little, but she cradled her arm in her lap just in case too much movement caused more pain. She sighed, hoping she was still able to bake the cookies she had been planning on making tomorrow for their movie night.

Her sisters had brought her into the ER after she’d gone flying over the handlebars of the dirt bike she had been learning to ride. It really wasn’t her fault. If she hadn’t swerved out of the way, she was certain she would have hit that tiny little rabbit and she would have felt a million times worse. Better her arm than an innocent woodland creature.

The group had organized a trip up to Rhys’ family’s lake house for a week in the summer. Elain, her sisters, Rhys and Cassian had come up early, with Mor, Amren and Azriel coming up a day later before they finished off their final assignments for the year.

They’d decided to practise riding on flatter terrain before they attempted the more expert tracks in the forests behind the property but had already ended with a trip to the hospital. She doubted she’d be able to ride now…

She was peering around the hospital room at all the gadgets and displays beeping and flashing when she heard a heated voice float to her ears from down the hall.

“Where is she?”

Oh. He sounded pissed.

“Sir, please calm down,” the soothing voice of the nurse followed, albeit in more dulcet tones.

“Az, really. She’s fine. It’s just her arm,” came Feyre’s placating accent.

“What? What happened to her arm?!”

Hurried footsteps scuffled down the hall, his strained voice getting closer and closer. “Elain? ELAIN!”

“In here,” she sighed, before a head of dark hair popped into the folds of the curtain, his hand snatching back the material when he had confirmed he’d found her.

“What happened? Are you alright? Oh my god you’re in a cast,” his hands hovered over her as if he didn’t know whether to touch her not, as blazing hazel eyes frantically scanned her face, down her body and trailed down her legs. His eyes darkened at the grazes, bruises and dried blood splattered across her usually smooth skin.

She was just opening her mouth to tell him she was fine, that it looked worse than what it was, when their family had skidded to halt at her suite, crowding into the cramped space behind the curtain.

Turning on Cassian, shoving a finger in his face, Azriel growled, “Why is she in a cast?”

Cassian looked mildly concerned as he sputtered, “She wanted to ride the dirt bikes—”

“The dirt bikes—,” Azriel spat, his eyes all but bulging out of his head.

Nesta stepped in. “Well, we’re all going out on Sunday, we wanted to test them out.”

“She could have ridden with me—,” Azriel started, rounding on Nesta.

“She didn’t do anything wrong; a rabbit ran ou—,”

“I should have been there!”

“Nothing was going to happen she was wearing a helmet—”

“WHERE ARE WE RHYS!!”

Elain’s eyes bounced back and forth as each one of them stepped up to Azriel’s wrath and he shot them all down like stalks of wheat.

“I asked for a ride. It’s not their fault. Besides, Nesta and Feyre were doing it—,” Elain shot back, still seated on the bench and sick of being spoken about as if she were a wayward child.

“Oh? And if Nesta and Feyre jumped off a cliff because they’d been told they could sprout wings and fly, would you do that too?”

Elain rolled her eyes at him. “Az, it’s not that big a deal.”

“You’re in a hospital, Elain!”

“It looks worse than it is,” she countered, holding her chin up and refusing to back down.

“Your arm is in plaster! What more did you want, to get carried out on a stretcher? Listen, if you want to do idiotic things then fine, but at least wait until I’m there in case anything goes wrong. If I can’t talk you out of it, then at least I could catch you if you fall.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Elain exasperated. “It’s just a fracture,” she continued, waving her plastered arm in front of her.

His eyes narrowed as a muscle in his jaw ticked. His voice had dropped to a murmur and he raked a hard through his hair. “You’re going to age me ten years, Elain Archeron. Why did I have to fall for you,” he grumbled underneath his breath, irritated.

The words left his lips, but he didn’t seem to grasp their gravity as everyone in the room stilled. Cassian openly gaped at his brother and everyone’s eyes volleyed back and forth between Elain and Azriel as if they were watching a tennis grand slam final.

Elain sat there, perched on the steel bench still as a statue and proud as any queen as Azriel continued glaring at her. She didn’t balk.

Gathering her wits, she squared her shoulders before responding, “Well, it serves you right.”

Her reaction seemed to knock Azriel from his anger, his face rearranging its features in a portrayal of confusion.

“It serves me right?”

“Yes. You flapping mother hen. Now get a grip, and let’s go,” she huffily reprimanded before being handed her discharge papers by the nurse.

Signing the paperwork, she hopped off the bench and gathered her things, before lacing the fingers of her good hand with Azriel’s, and walked out.

Azriel peered down at their clasped hands as she led him silently out of the hospital. He could do nothing but stare in awe at the profile of her stunningly stoic face as she stalked out, head held high, a small smile creeping onto her lips.

[figula]

was meant to be in bed already but i needed to pack 2 orders before i slept :( anyway, whining about pussy problems under the cut (quite tmi)

still fucking bleeding!!!! i dont know whether or not to call it spotting or brown discharge (nice) but either way its brown + there are tiny bits of what looks like uterine lining in it so im like is this just my body clearing out a bit slower than usual or wtf is happening lol... its a small amount, if it wasnt worrying me bc of how far outside the norm it is for me i wouldnt be affected at all but like im so like :| i hate when my body does shit!!! the fact my boobs are still sore as well is so ?? bc mty period should have been over for like a week at this point >:( im going to buy a preg test tomorrow as well but like i did HAVE my period... anyway smear test tomorrow ... hate that

[faithhopeloveandtherapy]

Well. We have snow. At 8am it wasn’t so bad, I made it to the doctors to have my smear test. That wasn’t so bad either. At 10am, I tried to walk with the pram to a friends house, but after 10 minute hauling the pram through the snow, it semi-collapsed. I undid layers of raincover and foot muff and lifted the baby out onto his feet while I tried to figure out the pram, but he can’t stand alone so he was hanging onto my legs and crying because he didn’t like snow on his face. I tried and failed to sort the pram out while hobbled by a scared baby grabbing onto my legs for dear life, so eventually gave up, popped him back in the collapsing pram, turned round and headed back for home. I had to call d2 to come and rescue us in the end, and I carried the baby and she hauled the pram. So after that we stayed home, and watched the snow fall and get deeper and deeper.

I like the snow but I don’t like the uncertainty that it brings when you’re trying to get things done. Will the baby get to family time tomorrow morning?? Unlikely.

[lightvsdark18]

Responses to voicelines (Rook)

Très bien! You grow more radiant by the day. I can only imagine how beautiful you will be tomorrow!

Um, thank you for the compliment. Though, I don't believe I look that good.

Non... Speak not. At this point, I can hear your inner voice just by gazing into your eyes.

Heh.

School Uniform

Bonjour. What world will you whisk me off to today?

Um, the library I guess.

I'm quite intrigued by your actions. Would you permit me to follow you around for a day?

What? No.

Something about you seems different from yesterday. Hold on, let me guess what it is.

*stares at him with a confused smile*

Uniforms can only be worn for a limited period of one's life. That gives them a transient beauty, don't you think?

I guess.

P.E. Uniform

You find working up a sweat to be embarrassing? Non! What is more magnifique than exerting yourself to the fullest?

I'm embarrassed by the boys staring at me.

I'm quite athletic, if you'd believe it. Care to test me with a game of tag?

I rather not.

Labwear

One's innate beauty is static, while the beauty of one's growth is dynamic. I wonder which is the source of your radiance?

I wonder that too.

When someone runs from you, it makes you want to pursue them all the more. I trust you know what I mean? Be ready if you decide to run from me.

Dude, what the hell.

Ceremonial Robes

What a coincidence—I was just hoping to see you. Could this be fate at work?

Or that we're going to the same place.

You noticed I have a different scent? I'm wearing cologne today. Do you like it?

Not my type of scent, but not bad.

Your eye makeup is a bit smeared, and it's doing your face no favors. Shall I fix it for you?

I can do it myself.

Let's see if I can't get that makeup of yours into shape, hm? Now, what color best suits your eyes...?

Yellow or orange. Heh.

Dorm Uniform

Have you, too, developed an appreciation for what true beauty is?

Yes, but I'm not close to your appreciation for beauty.

Are you staying properly hydrated? Your lips are looking a tad parched.

Um, no. I should drink some water.

Isn't the Pomefiore dorm uniform lovely? I rather like it, myself.

It look comfortable and warm.

The inner lining of this uniform has a pattern based on the apples the Queen was so fond of. Frightening, yet riveting, no? Such is the essence of beauty.

Wow, that's cool. Or beautiful, I should say.

Oh, are you tense? It's easy to tell when your heart rate is elevated.

You're making me more concerned every day.

Suitor Suit

Ahh, marriage... I am fickle by nature and am captivated by any beautiful thing I see. I don't think I'm ready to marry just yet.

I mean, you are 18.

What words of love would stir you? Do tell.

Why would I tell you?

You're certainly cheerful. I imagine my days would be enchanting if I spent them all with you.

Aw, thank you.

Halloween

Relax. You have nothing to fear. Just close your eyes...and give yourself over to me.

Now I'm more freaked out.

Curious about my fangs, are you? If you wish to know if they're as sharp as a carnivore's canines, well...I could always demonstrate on you.

Please don't.

Marshmallows, candy, chocolate… I have plenty of treats to share, but I'd like to see what kind of trick you have up your sleeve.

It's this. *Sprays him with silly string*