#and not the thing i KNOW people did when they needed the fabric temporarily out of the way

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 1 - Betrayal

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, betrayal, mean!Bucky,

Hi! This kinda came outta nowhere lmao. Apologies for the angst, I just needed to do an angsty/sad fic cos I'm in my feels. As always, I appreciate your comments and reblogs. This is a two part series (standalone, not linked to any of my other fics, not the same characters as in Sweet and Sour) second part coming soon...

Wordcount: 3.7k

💔

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me, Doll. After everything we’ve been through? Was it all a lie?”

“Don’t deny it! That’s your voice on the recording! Banner proved your phone was there, it pinged there – we’ve got the proof. Even now you’re lying, you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You had read about people being too stunned to move or speak, but you always thought it was a little embellished for dramatic effect in books. Surely, you could just push through? Surely shock did not have such a profound effect on your body that it rendered you temporarily paralysed and mute?

But you had calmly walked down the stairs towards the lobby of the house twenty minutes ago and hadn’t moved since. You just stood there now, rigid and dumbfounded, trying to understand how your entire world had just collapsed around you mere minutes beforehand. Now, you got the ‘stunned’ thing. You understood.

The aftershocks of Bucky yelling at you echoed around your head. What had just happened? You’d been sleeping peacefully just before he stormed in your shared bedroom, roaring at you before your eyes had even opened. You’d never seen him like that before. This wasn’t your Bucky, this was work Bucky. The one he’d always worked so hard to keep you from.

Why wouldn’t he listen? What did he mean, the recording? The phone ping? Your skull ached as you tried to make sense of it all. You would never do a thing like that to him. You loved him. You’d die before you purposefully tried to hurt him. Why didn’t he understand that?

You briefly considered going back upstairs, finding him wherever he was in the labyrinth of this house and straightening this whole mess out. Telling him you loved him, and he had to listen. Taking him in your arms, kissing him softly.

But the memory of the look in his eyes, the sheer rage they contained, the hatred that lay there, stopped you.

There was nothing to go back for.

You managed to pull yourself from your paralysis and move towards the hall closet near the front door. Well, it was more like a small room than a closet. An overflow from the walk-in closet just off the master bedroom upstairs. A huge space packed with a selection of Bucky’s jackets and shoes. He liked keeping some of them downstairs, getting the staff to rotate them when he wanted a change. Some of your things sat in there too - a few high-end coats, beautiful shoes. 

Correction, past tense - they were yours. Not now. 

“You’re a liar! You lied to me…Bet you loved spending my money too, didn’t you? Laughing all the way to bank as you sucked me dry…”

You screwed up your face as the memory of his voice flooded you. He was just so angry…he just wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t believe you…

You pushed it all aside and opened the closet door, darting and shuffling through the combined thousands of dollars at your fingertips - the Dior, the Gucci, the Prada. You knew it was in here somewhere.

Then you spotted a flash of red behind one of the shoe racks in the far corner. There she was. 

You moved towards it, grabbing at the red fabric and tugging. It squeezed past the luxury shoes and revealed itself as you pulled it toward you - your faithful red backpack.

A relic of your former self.

No designer labels here, just a bag that had followed you throughout your life - high school, college before you’d dropped out, various apartment moves and vacations. The once-bright crimson colour had faded over time, but it was still sturdy and strong, still TARDIS-like in how much you could pack inside. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the closet against the glamour and opulence. 

You knew how that felt.

You unzipped it and dug through the contents. A pair of jeans, a sweater, a couple of T-shirts and your beaten-up old sneakers. Some pairs of underwear and bras. A few other simple garments. All polyblends and cheap textiles. No fancy labels to be found. No fine silks or luxe fabrics that Bucky had liked to spoil you with. 

This backpack was all you had to your name when you’d moved in here. Funny how life went in circles, because once again it was all you had now.

At the time Bucky had taken it from you and insisted you throw it away - you wouldn’t need it! He’d buy you a whole walk-in closet full of clothes! 

And he did. 

A dizzying amount. More than you could ever wear. A mix of designer labels and custom pieces that fit you perfectly. Fine tailoring and exquisite details. Dresses. Blouses. Pants. Jeans. Organic cotton t-shirts. Skirts of every length. Winter coats that had cost the same as two months of your rent in the city. Underwear sets so pretty and delicate that you were almost too nervous to wear them. 

And accessories, too. Handbags. Jewellery. Shoes. Oh, the shoes. Heels, flats, boots, sandals, sneakers and slippers. Shoes for fancy parties and shoes for hikes. Shoes for the grand vacations. Shoes for just lounging around the house. Shoes you only wore for sex.

All gone, in an instant.

It didn’t matter, anyway. You always told him you didn’t need any of it. And you weren’t lying. You’d never lied to him, despite what he believed now. You were always happiest in sweats and loungewear, you just liked being comfortable and yourself. You just liked being near him.

At the time you’d talked him round about letting you keeping the backpack - nostalgia, you know? You’d had it years, after all.

But he didn’t think you needed it. That was then, this was now. Why keep an old bag when you could get anything you’d ever want? He’d buy you a hundred backpacks, he said, he’d get your initials embroidered, he’d let you design your own, he’d have your favourite designer make you one - especially for you.

But that wouldn’t be your bag. The bag that had seen everything. Your constant companion. 

You persisted. What was one little backpack in a big old house like his? It would take up no space at all. He wouldn’t even know it was there.

He relented eventually, he’d always loved how down to earth and low-key you were. He was fond of your sentimentality. You’d never been interested in his money; you’d kept the love notes he wrote you - not the shopping receipts - but he still liked to spoil you. You deserved it. 

Or so he’d told you then. But it was a different story today. 

The bag had been hastily stashed here in the closet the first day you moved in and had been there ever since, languishing amongst the Italian tailoring. 

Until now.

Part of you wondered if deep down you had always known this day would come. Maybe your gut had sensed it was all too good to be true, and you knew you needed to store a parachute for the inevitable fall. 

You sniffed, wiping away the threat of more tears. There would be time for that later. 

You looked down at the slip you wore, the slinky, silly nightie thing he’d bought you that you’d worn to bed. Not very practical now you’d be out on the street. 

Your brain suddenly switched into survival mode, most likely in an attempt to stop yourself from falling apart, but you couldn’t think about it all now. You needed to find somewhere to stay. And you couldn’t do that in a silk nightdress. 

You quickly shrugged the gown off, leaving it in a tangled pool on the floor of the closet and mentally apologising to Martha who would have to pick it up tomorrow. You grabbed the backpack and pulled on the jeans, a bra, one of the tees and the sweater. You rolled the Dollar Tree socks onto your feet. Kicked on the sneakers. It was all a little musty from being folded up in the bag for so long. But it would do. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the closet mirror and gasped. Aside from the wild eyes and tear-stained face, you looked like a version of yourself you hadn’t seen in a long time. Another life.

Hello again.

Next: where to go. The obvious places were Wanda’s or Nat’s homes. And you’d go there. Either would work. Either would welcome you with open arms, being the true friends that they were. Bucky’s betrayal had made you question everything you knew about love, but not the faith in your friends to catch you when you fall. That was unshakeable. 

Maybe you could alternate who you stayed with until you got back on your feet, so you weren’t too much of a burden to either. You just couldn’t face either of them tonight, you needed to be alone. 

You frantically rummaged through the backpack again until you found what you were looking for at the very bottom. You let out a little yelp of relief.

The battered old wallet had seen better days, but it was hanging on. You opened it up and breathed a sigh of relief that you’d never transferred your driver’s license into the Gucci wallet Bucky had given you on that first day. Thanks, lazy past self. It wasn’t like you’d driven much anyway, not with his all drivers on the payroll and the Uber account he’d loaded onto your phone. 

The wallet also contained debit and credit cards you’d never cancelled but hadn’t touched since Bucky gave you your very own black card. It was funny how you used to obsessively count every penny and now you could charge whatever you wanted without a second thought.

Not now, then, you corrected. You needed to get used to your life with Bucky being referred to in the past tense.

“You were working with the feds this whole time, Doll? Is that it? You were all laughing at me? Laughing at how easy it was to let you in? The cute little waitress doing her ‘oh shucks!’ routine, catching me hook, line and sinker?? God I’m such a fucking idiot…”

You stifled a sob, but continued hunting through the wallet.

You thought about your purse sitting out on the side table by the front door. You could take that with you and charge a hotel room it. He probably wouldn’t even notice such a small charge amongst his wealth, and even if he did, he wouldn’t begrudge you a few bucks for a roof over your head for one night. Would he?

No. Enough. 

He had ended it. He had implied you were a leech. He didn’t listen, he didn’t trust you. He didn’t believe you. If he truly thought you’d done what he said…he couldn’t ever have loved you. Not really. 

No more spending his money, even though you never really felt comfortable doing so anyway. The showdown tonight had confirmed your biggest fears - he’d always resented you for spending his cash. You couldn’t live like that anymore. 

Besides, you didn’t want him to know where you were. Not that you thought he’d come after you…but still. 

Fortunately, the wallet had a ream of stale bills stuffed in one of the sections. You exclaimed in excitement; you remembered them now. It had been your last day at your waitress job. You’d quit right before you came over to this place to move in, and Lou had given you the rest of the week’s pay plus tips. You had fought him on it, insisting you didn’t need it - but Lou had asked you to take it. For his sake.

“I want you to be happy, hon’,” he’d told you kindly when you had shared your plans. “And I know you’re a smart girl. But you’re getting mixed up with…a different kinda world. A…different kind of guy. You never know when this might come in handy”.

You’d frowned at him at the time, not quite sure what he meant. But as you stood there in the closet clutching the cash, you sent him a silent thank-you for his foresight. God bless Lou. He was exactly right.

You shoved the money and the wallet back into the red bag and moved from the closet into the hallway. The house was completely silent. If Bucky knew you hadn’t left yet, he’d made no effort to stop you. You admitted that a tiny part of yourself had hoped he’d come after you and admit he’d made a terrible mistake.

But he wasn’t coming. 

You slung the backpack over your shoulder as you headed to the front door. As your hand curled around the handle, you turned and took one last look at what had been your first real home. What you’d hoped would be your last home. 

You looked over at your phone which you’d tossed onto the dresser next to the closet in your panic. You briefly pondered taking it, but it wasn’t yours anymore. You’d buy a burner in the morning and get a new cell plan once you were back on your feet. 

Wow. You were surprising yourself with this pragmatism. But you also knew you were hanging on by a thread.

But the fact was - you’d survived before Bucky, and you’d survive after him, too. You always kept going. You’d been dirt poor before, you could do it again. You’d been alone before, too. You’d been alone most of your life. 

You could do it again.

‘Tenacious’ - that’s what Nat had called you once. You weren’t sure if you agreed with her at the time, but now you wanted to prove her right. You wanted to be the person she believed you to be. 

You already knew it would be much harder now, as you’d had a taste of the other side. How the other half live, as they say. Before, you didn’t know any different - you didn’t know what you were missing. Now you absolutely did. Not just the money…the comfort…but being cared for, being loved. 

On some level, you’d always known this wasn’t going to be your happy ending. You knew deep down that the house of cards would eventually fall, because it always did. 

You just wished you weren’t always right. 

You opened the door and stepped out into the dark.

💔

You walked for thirty minutes towards the city. Bucky lived on the outskirts and most of the journey had been leaving his estate along the single, winding road that led up to his property. None of his men paid you any mind. Not the ones with guns pitched up along the perimeter. Not those waiting in cars half a mile from his house, keeping an eye out for any potential threats as they did every night. They all knew who you were, so word must’ve spread fast. Otherwise they would’ve been falling over themselves to check on you and find out why the boss’ girl was out walking by herself at this time. 

You wondered if Steve or Sam had put a message out on the comms. ‘They’re over. Don’t worry about her anymore’ or words to that effect. Something cold but concise. That’s how this operation worked. 

You’d developed friendships with some of these men. Chatted to them and even brought them coffee when they kept watch on cold nights. You would watch then from the windows and tell Bucky you were worried about how freezing it was out there, and he’d laugh it off and say it was part of their job and they were fine. But they were always grateful when you came out with a thermos, always told you how much it meant to them. 

All of it forgotten in an instant, you were disposable as anything else in Bucky’s empire. You understood that now. Just like when he wanted a new car or a new watch, he’d toss away the old model - then find himself something newer and shinier. 

You walked a little further as signs of civilisation starting to appear and Bucky’s acres of land disappeared behind you. A gas station. A boarded-up strip mall. You were a little frightened walking alone by yourself, but the sheer adrenaline your situation propelled you forward. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you eventually found a tired-looking Holiday Inn up ahead. A few of the lightbulbs on the neon sign were out, meaning it spelled out H LIDAY INN. A leaky drainpipe dripped a steady stream of water over the entrance. Oh dear. 

But it would do for now. 

You took a deep breath as you went inside and checked in at the front desk, paying for a basic room with your waitress cash. The disinterested receptionist gave you the key card and sighed with boredom, barely looking at you as she barked the directions to your room and resumed Candy Crush on her phone. She didn’t seem surprised to see a lone woman turning up in the middle of the night, arriving to a roadside hotel on foot, paying for two nights in crumpled bills. She didn’t even ask to see your ID. That all gave you a pretty clear idea of what the staff were used to here.

You passed an ancient-looking PC that guests could use, which surprisingly, as it looked like it was last updated for Windows 95, had WiFi. You made a mental note to log on tomorrow to message Wanda and Nat on social media and fill them in ��and hopefully get one of them to come pick you up. 

You grabbed some chips and soda from the vending machines then walked towards the elevators. Not quite the glamorous dinner you’d become accustomed too, but it would do. For now.

You hit the button to call the elevator as you slumped against the wall, the exertion of your long walk and the evening finally catching up with you. The elevator creaked and spluttered but it finally got you to your floor. 

You scanned your keycard and swung the room door open, dumping your backpack and snacks onto the wood-veneer desk before flinging yourself onto the double bed. The no-frills basics were worlds away from the fancy hotels you were used to staying in with Bucky, but it was clean and comfortable. And most important of all, it was private. 

“Just get the fuck out. We’re done here so save your tears. Over. Finito. I don’t need some liar in my bed, being sweet to my face then sticking a knife in my back – then not even having the guts to admit to it when she’s caught red-handed”.

Finally alone, you allowed yourself to weep. To mourn the end of your relationship and the man you thought Bucky was, versus the man he turned out to really be. To grieve, to bid farewell to the life you thought you had (and would continue to have) with him, and the way you thought he saw you. It wasn’t just about losing him and tarnishing your memories, it was also grieving for a future and a life you thought you were going to have. 

“I don’t care. You’ll figure something out, sweetheart. You’re just lucky this is all I’m doing after everything you’ve pulled…”

Large, wracking sobs took over your body as you curled up on the hotel bedspread and allowed yourself to feel it all. You ate the chips and drank the soda, barely tasting either. You turned on the TV and let the black and white movie on the one working channel serve as background noise. Fatigue eventually swam over you, smothering you like a weighted blanket.

Soon there were no tears left and the well had finally run dry. Mercifully, sleep finally came for you, and you gave into it without a fight. 

And you slept. And slept. 

💔

Bucky was at his desk looking at paperwork when Steve came back into his home office. He was doing his best to ignore the nauseating rush in his gut, trying his hardest not to think about you and the way your face had crumpled as he confronted you. Most likely it was just your guilt, anyway.

“Barton said the shipment arrived right on schedule, everything accounted for,” Steve advised as he poured himself a shot of bourbon from the small bar setup in the corner of the office. “And Sam’s out at the shipyard, running through the plan with Rumlow”.

He was desperate to address the elephant of the room and ask Bucky how he was holding up, but Bucky had previously insisted nobody bring your name up. So he didn’t. 

“Good,” Bucky replied curtly. “And Stark?”

“All on board. Said we can iron out the details next week”.

“Perfect, thanks”.

Steve nodded, downing the last of his glass as he placed it on the ornate tray and headed to the door.

“Oh, and Steve?” Bucky called out to him.

“Yeah, Buck?” He turned to face his friend.

“Do you….you uh know…where she went? After…what happened?” He asked, the tiniest hint of hesitation in his otherwise firm tone. Most people wouldn’t have spotted it, but most people didn’t know Bucky like Steve did. 

Steve shook his head, “No, Buck. Some of the men saw her leaving on foot a little while ago”.

Bucky swallowed but his face betrayed no emotion, “On foot?”

“Yeah. I guess she didn’t have a lot of options…” Steve shrugged.

Bucky nodded, “Yeah…I guess I just assumed she’d book a cab…or call one of her friends…” he said wistfully as he looked back down at the papers across his desk.

“She left her phone. Scott found it by the front door, next to her purse. I’m not sure she took anything with her, actually,” Steve mused.

Bucky frowned, “No…phone? No…money?”

Steve shrugged, “I don’t think so. But that’s good, right? You said yourself she was probably just playing a long-con to get your money too…”

Bucky’s gaze dropped back to the desk, his grip on the fountain pen he was holding tightened, the nib shaking from the force of his strength.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked tentatively as he watched the way the pen shook.

Any hint of vulnerability was immediately snuffed out as Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Steve. 

“Of course. Fine. Let me know what Sam says”.

Steve nodded, “Right. I’ll call him now”.

As Steve closed the door, the pen snapped in Bucky’s hand.

[inkblot22]

Truss

Woohoo Malleus woohoo! I'm making the trigger list a bit bigger because I keep thinking about how people will totally skip reading it if it's too small and then blame the writer for their own mistake. That shit is clown behavior but I don't want to be held responsible for someone else's case of stupid, so sorry to those of you who think this looks clunky. Line divider found here: @/cafekitsune. This is also a fic that is wildly self-indulgent, in that I mean that while writing I visualized my own physical form and quirks.

That being said, this fic is written with afab (assigned female at birth) readers in mind. No pronouns other than you are used for the reader, but the reader does possess a womb. Reader's chest is not described in the least, just the lower bits, and even then it's not at length. Malleus also refers to the reader as "beauty," but masculine people can be beautiful too so idk but here's a warning anyways.

This fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. TW for noncon, fae interaction rules used for said noncon, slight bullying if you squint, one (1) mention of blood (I'm beginning to think I have a problem.) Stay safe while reading. Possible OOC Malleus, I haven't read any of book 7 and if you spoil it I'll block you temporarily.

This is absolutely not your fault, and you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. It’s awful. Crewel was for sure his namesake, because this whole thing was a steaming pile of-

Alright, from the top, just to organize your thoughts: you are the only non-magic student in a school of mages. The teachers are mages. Your best friend/roommate/monster friend is a mage. The plants here can do magic, but you? No. Thanks homeworld. Love the gift of nothing.

Thus, the faculty have seemingly created a game of “how to piss off and challenge the magicless student,” in which they give you various tasks to just make you lose sleep. Vargas had you running laps until your legs felt like jelly, doing pushups until your shoulders started sounding like glowsticks. Trein had you learning completely off the wall trivia, such as what type of fabric the Queen of Heart’s favorite bathrobe was made of and why it made her more powerful. That’s nothing, it’s easy because you apparently have so much free time in their eyes. But Crewel? Fuck that man. 

When you got the assignment, it sounded fun and exciting. He gave you seeds for a fast-growing rose thing. Honestly you weren’t paying attention to the name of it, but you retained what you needed to know. The plant only grew in moonlight, so you needed to cover it before you went inside at night. It needed a minimum of two hours of moonlight to grow per night. If the basket was overturned and it was exposed to the sun, then the plants would die. Moderate watering, no fertilizer, the usual.

Once the plants bloomed, you were supposed to take the flowers and make some kind of glamour potion, so here you are, failing at doing so. You only had four flowers, and you’re down to the last one. You wasted three tries and you still have no idea what the hell you’re doing wrong and it’s due next alchemy class and you’re breaking curfew on top of all of it. You glare into your cauldron with your latest failed attempt and hunker down to shoulder against the side so you can dump it out and try again. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

The voice makes you jump out of your skin. You turn around and you almost want to cry tears of joy, because if anyone can help you, it’s him.

“When I saw a little head duck down, I thought that something strange was happening. A crime, perhaps.” Malleus smiles, and it’s not a kind smile, but you’ll take anything remotely positive at this point, “What are you doing on the floor, child of man?”

“Oh, I have to empty the cauldron.” You puff out, still trying to throw your weight to push the cauldron. You did it twice earlier, so this must be the effects of mental and physical fatigue.

“Oh, that’s right. Allow me.” Rather than waving a hand or anything, Malleus strolls on over and uncrosses his arms, taking one hand and pressing his fingertips against the lip of the cauldron. The whole damn thing tips, the failed mixture pouring out into the nearby drain. With the same ease, he tilts it back and turns to you.

When he looks at you, it’s… weird. You know he’s lizard-like, as dragons evidently are, but even Sebek’s eyes aren’t this jarring. They aren’t soulless or cold or unfeeling, but it feels like he is looking through you. His emotions don’t reflect in his eyes properly. That’s what it feels like. They reflect, but it’s wrong. Fractured. His lips quirk into a smile and you blink.

“Uh… wait, what are you doing out here, Tsunotaro?” You ask, turning to gather more materials, following the transcript of your recording from class.

His smile grows, “Just on a walk. Will you tell me what you’re trying to make?”

“Uh, yeah. This glamour potion? I don’t know. Remember how I was growing those flowers?”

“Of course. And what happened to the rest?”

“I… uh… I messed up the other potions. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong here.”

“No?”

“No. Do… do you think you could maybe… help me?”

“Of course.” Malleus plucks the flower up, twirling it thoughtfully, “Why don’t you gather the other ingredients?”

That was simple enough. Petals from your tediously grown blooms, some kind of floral oil with tiny white flowers inked on the label, a ball of clay no bigger than a pea, something that really resembled a severed finger, something that was hopefully just someone’s baby tooth, a handful of crystals in a rainbow of colors, and water. Lots of water. Malleus watches as you put all your ingredients on the nearby table and hums thoughtfully before dimming the lights and turning back to you.

“And where did you hear that you needed these things?” He asks. It’s not something that he says with any indication that you’re right or wrong. The tone is bland but the words say enough. 

He has essentially told you before that he believes you inept, a babe in the woods when it comes to this sort of thing, but it doesn’t stop you from looking as hurt as you feel, “The headmage visited class and gave me some pointers?”

“You personally or the entire class? I don’t personally recall concocting anything like this when I was in your grade.” He says.

You suppose you’re grateful that he’s so blunt, but his flat tone makes the sting of your failure that much sharper. You thought he’d be nicer, since you two are sort of friends, and Lilia has told you that Malleus is fond of you, but it also makes just as much sense for him to refrain from easing up in his flatness because he supposedly thinks so much of you. He thinks you’re an idiot, but he’s not willing to treat you as such.

“The whole class. And no one else in my grade is doing this.” You mutter, staring at your assortment of items on the table.

He approaches the table and plucks up the beaker of water, twisting it in his hand, “Did you distill this?”

“What?”

“Tap water often has various minerals in it. If you haven’t been using distilled water, you’ve been adding an extra ingredient. Typically, most potions are much more forgiving and you can use tap water with little issue, but this particular potion is known to be disagreeable.” He murmurs, crossing the room with your beaker of water and setting it up to distill with a practiced ease. “That’s why it’s typically saved for fourth year students’ aptitude testing.”

The revelation hit you like a ton of bricks. You’d like to protest but it unfortunately makes sense. Malleus looks over at you, somewhat blandly, then turns around to face you, looking half concerned.

You answer his question before he can ask, “I didn’t… know that. I guess it’s my fault for being from a different world…”

His lips twitch into a smile, and for a moment you can see amusement in his eyes, fractured with the underlying coldness, “Oh, it isn’t. It may be your fault for failing to ask questions, but having someone who is unused to this type of work take on an advanced project is cruel.”

“You think so?” You ask, voice lilting with hope.

“Of course I do. Why you’re expected to make a potion of this caliber is beyond me.” Malleus states blankly.

“Uh, yeah. I- I don’t know either. But thank you for helping me!”

His expression flinches. It lasts for less than a second before it smooths into an odd grin. You’re not quite sure what that means, but you’re too happy to stop and think about it. The water finishes distilling and you carefully begin crafting, using the tips Malleus occasionally mumbles towards you. Don’t put that ingredient in yet, stir clockwise, you need to grind that up with the oil, don’t rush you have time, et cetera, et cetera, and then you have a gorgeous violet mixture, glimmering with a pearlescent golden sheen.

Your jaw drops. Somehow the few ingredients you threw together is enough to fill several bottles. Malleus is making a smug face as you rush to the shelves of empty bottles and choose several fluted bottles, quickly using a ladle to deposit the final, successful potion into the bottles. You’re so giddy with your success that you hardly notice as Malleus walks towards the door and locks it. But only hardly.

“What was that for?” You ask, not actually caring. You’re too happy to be worried.

“Oh, we’ll need privacy.” He responds.

That part confuses you enough into caring. You turn around from where you’ve safely wrapped the bottles and slipped them into your bag and shoot Malleus a frown, “Privacy? For what?”

Malleus doesn’t say anything. He walks over to the table and you feel your body stand up, void of your control, and stagger over to stand in front of him. If you were concerned before, you’re frightened now. Malleus looks down at you with his strange gaze and folds his arms.

“Wh-what’s happening?! Why can’t I move?”

“You really don’t know?” He asks. Something about his tone sounds mocking, but you’re certain he doesn’t mean it to be. It’s his version of sarcasm, he’s spoken to you like this before.

Your body hops up on the table, taking a seat, and Malleus turns to stand before you, looking down at you with a soft smile. You shift your hips- what the fuck is going on- and Malleus very gently hooks his hands in the pants of your dorm uniform.

Your dorm uniform is legit whatever the hell you want it to be, so it would change on the daily. Today it was a pair of jeans and a hooded jacket. He kneels to remove your shoes and stands back up, leaning close as he tilts your chin up. His breath fans over your lips.

“You didn’t tell me that you were so lovely beneath your clothes.” His hand on your chin shifted to your cheek, and his other hand laid flat on the table. “And… your smell is much stronger. Are you aroused?”

“You can’t just ask me that! I don’t know what you did but you’ve got to let me go.”

“I didn’t do anything. This is your doing.” He retorts, pecking your lips very chastely. 

“What are you talking about?” When he didn’t respond, instead pressing the tips of his hand that was on the table against your exposed sex, your heart jumps but your body doesn’t move. You can’t, “Don’t do that!”

“Lilia informed me that making someone climax is similar to binding someone to you.” He mumbles, kissing you again as his fingers slowly slip inside. “It makes them fall in love with you. Isn’t that the most binding contract of all?”

You don’t know why he isn’t listening, but even less than that, you don’t know why he thought you could handle two fingers, much larger than your own, penetrating you. You squeal, but your body is incapable of tensing. Malleus pulls back, looking at you in a soft confusion.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“With me? What’s wrong with you? That’s too many- it’s uncomfortable!”

He blinks at you and withdraws a finger, which feels much better. You sigh. If you’re going to be forced to do this, you may as well not get hurt in the process. You close your eyes and Malleus hums.

“Is this better? You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t had a dalliance with a human before.”

“I- I don’t think I’ll be able to… to forgive you for this.”

“No?” You can hear his smirk and the squelching noise as he pumps his finger gets louder. He slips the second finger in again and the burn isn’t so bad as last time, “Well, maybe you can decide that for certain after the wedding.”

“The wedd-” You have to bite your tongue to keep from moaning. Your body leans back, laying on the table, and your gentle assailant curls his fingers, leaning forward to mouth at your neck, “There’s not gonna be a motherfucking wedding. You’re-”

You can hear his horn scraping against the table, “Hmm. I didn’t think you were so entitled. You’re squeezing around my fingers. Are you close?”

“No!” You’re a liar. A ragged gasp leaves your throat and you feel the drop in the pit of your stomach, the burst of euphoria traveling up your spine as his thumb presses against your clit.

Malleus laughs, then leans up off of you. The sound of clothing hitting the ground is the first and only warning you get, but you can’t move, so it might as well have been silent. You feel something on your stomach, coming up about a half inch below your belly button. It’s… almost cool to the touch. You would think it would be warmer, but it’s not. Your eyes round as you stare at the ceiling, and Malleus’s face leans into view, his eyes boring into yours as though he’s reading your thoughts.

“You’re very warm. I’ve always thought this. You must be boiling inside.”

“I- what?”

He doesn’t respond, leaning back up. You feel the velvety head of his cock press against your entrance and as much as you want to jolt away, you can’t move your body. You can’t even look down to see what he’s doing. Your lashes flutter as the stretch sets in, the pressure worse than his two fingers. It burns, especially along the bottom, where his weight lays heavy thanks to gravity. You’re capable of wincing and letting out a whine, but nothing else.

“H-hey, that- that hurts.” You babble.

“Does it? You are squeezing me like a vice. I’ll stay still for a moment so you can relax some. Let me know when it stops hurting.” It’s very peculiar. Although he speaks with an animated tone, his voice is often detached. You would think he’d have more emotion since he’s inside of you.

You blink rapidly and decide that now is as good a time as any to ask, “What the hell is happening?”

“Must you tease me so?” He responds, his voice tense.

“What? I’m not teasing you. I can’t move!”

“Of course you can’t. You only just bound yourself to my will.”

“I what?” You shout.

“What, did you think I enslaved you? I could have, when we first met. You’re too free, giving people your name, thanking them, taking gifts freely… it drives me mad.” You feel a flash of heat, something warm rolling against your skin, like standing too close to a gas stove, “And now I find that you didn’t even know? I didn’t think you were such a fool.”

“That’s just called being polite!” You protest. “Oh my god-”

“I suppose I can’t blame you, really. Relax, lest I harm you.” He murmurs, rolling his hips further as though he can slide in deeper. 

You squeak, “N-no, that’s-”

“Too much, yes. Tell me, in your world, do faefolk exist?”

“I- I mean, if they do, most people don’t believe in them.” The oddity of the situation felt like a blanket. Having a semi-conversation while your friend- not after this- used you as a dick holster. It was almost comforting. “I don’t- I don’t understand.”

His voice was deeper than normal, an underlying rasp to his voice, as though it was coming from somewhere deep in his throat, “I will explain. I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know. But after I explain, I will begin to move.”

“H-hey, no-”

His voice sounded choked, half strangled as he stifled a groan, “I apologize for not being clear earlier. Among the fae, verbal contracts are common and binding. You do not give someone your name. You wonder why I never directly gave you mine? It is a way to bind someone to your will. You do not accept gifts. Invitations are fine, but a gift is a sign that you owe someone something. My help- a boon- is a gift. Typically it is repaid with another kind turn. And, most importantly, you do not thank someone without the sufficient power to break their hold.” 

You felt him draw back, that wave of heat rolling over you again, and then he slammed forward. The slick noise and dull smack were muffled by your squeal, his cockhead punching your cervix like it stole from him.

“Foolish little thing. I suppose it makes you cute.” He sneers, and your body sits up, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

The angle makes his motion a bit less painful. He’s no longer bumping against your cervix, thank the Seven, but the stretch remains. Your eyes flinch shut and Malleus tilts your chin up to kiss you again.

“St-stop- stop!” You whimper, “You’re hurting me!”

“If you would relax, beauty, that would not be a problem.” His chuckle is dark, the squelching from your coupling making a wicked duet that makes you feel dizzy, “And you said it to me so easily as well. Thank me again.”

“Wh-” One of his hands slipped under your hips, holding your bottom just under the split in your cheeks, and nipped your neck as a flat thumping echoed from where your bodies met, your legs bouncing with the motion. His member had gone back to bullying your cervix, and you wailed in the hopes that he would stop, “Thank you!”

“Heh… it escapes your lips so freely. Tell me, beauty-” He cut himself off with a grunt, panting against the column of your throat. “Tell me, what is it that you’d like? I would give you the world on a platter, should you want it.”

“I- ow! Y-you’re hurting me!”

There was a possibility that he was getting off on the pain he was causing you, just as much as there was a possibility of him not understanding that he was hurting you. With every motion of his hips against yours, despite the wicked pain, you felt that ever evil tug in your gut, like a stone growing heavier and heavier. 

You tried again, because if this had to happen, if you were under his control now, you may as well not get injured. You would not be pissing blood if you could help it, “It’s too deep!”

He listened. It was odd, but he listened, his voice warming as he slid back a bit and continued ramming into you, but no longer beating the hell out of your internal organs.

“I didn’t realize. Is that better?” His voice sounded warmer, echoey against your shoulder. His teeth grazed over your skin again when you didn’t respond. He choked out your name and you sort of came back to yourself.

“U-uh- I guess?”

“Wonderful.” He mumbled, his free hand reaching between your bodies and slicked with your sweat, to tweak your clit.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you reached your height. Whoever he had been with in the past couldn’t have been so sensitive, since you felt his body jerk against you, an uncontrolled undercurrent to his motions. You let out a quiet, squealing moan and barely even felt the break when Malleus bit you to muffle his own groan. You didn’t feel him climaxing inside of you. You felt the control return to your body and flopped backward onto the table, your hoodie damp with sweat. Malleus took a step back, then carefully redressed you, then himself. You looked up at him and saw nothing but adoration in his eyes, not the fractured appearance of such. It was like he was actually looking at you.

When he spoke to you, leaning forward to cup your cheek, his voice was warm, warmer than ever, “Now, let’s start planning for the wedding, my beauty.”

[aquz]

babysitter . . . # three

☆ ortho has a temporarily new babysitter and idia has to walk him there every morning before school. idia isn't a fan of clichés but... who knew the babysitter was so cute?

☆ gender neutral reader, reader is kind of a shut-in yet is good with kids, strangers to crushes with idia shroud featuring ortho! magicless au!

ortho yanked at the fabric of idia's hood, his little body making little effort to move the giant that was his brother. grunting, ortho's face melted into a pout, "come on, idia! i want to see (name)!" he whined, making idia shake his head. "there's no need for that, i'm home today... we shouldn't bother them on their day off...." he stated, leaning in towards his monitor. an episode of a new anime had dropped and he was reading the reviews for it... very clearly a better way to spend his time than visiting someone who he has said a solid 4 words to...

"the heat is at an all-time low, though, and i wanna see them! they have the cutest kittens and such a big collection of figures!" ortho beamed, giving up on pulling his brother out of his gaming chair, giving his little arms a break. "i'm sure they have a few figures that you have too! pleassseee~?" ortho's description of the 'cool things' in your house made idia huff. from what his little brother said, idia could only assume that the babysitter was someone that reminded ortho of his dear brother. maybe that's why ortho liked them so much?

idia shook his head once again to clear his thoughts. his sickly pale, abnormally skinny fingers glided across the bottom of the monitor to click the 'off' button; he gently kicked off the ground to send his chair rolling backwards. "haaaah, if it makes you feel any better... we can see if they're home." ortho cheered at his brother's words and rushed to find his shoes, making idia slump into his chair. what did he just agree to?

was the inner monologue from the other day worth nothing? the monologue where he had debated with himself about the babysitter... (name). they intrigued idia from the start, and he found himself wanting to become closer... but why would he actually do that? they were a temporary part of his life and idia was never fond of making friends... plus, maybe they weren't anything like ortho said, maybe the little boy had been looking at them through a pair of sonic-character sunglasses found in happy meals. the lenses could've been covering who they really were.

but why does idia even care about that? he wants to believe that this is just a 'love at first sight' thing; he'll get over it soon enough and be back to his normal self. after all, it wouldn't make sense for him to stay infatuated... he had never spoken to (name) on a deeper level than a stuttered greeting. that's what he thought, at least. another part of him wanted so badly to befriend you; people meet in weird ways all the time. the two couldn't be much different from those people, right? idia was constantly at war with himself; always trying to decide if he should get to know you or leave you alone. making excuses to not talk to (name), but also thinking of why he would.

the inner conflict died down when ortho burst back into idia's room with a huge smile. "yes! i knew you'd say yes! you won't be disappointed; i know you and (name) will get along super well!"

the blue-haired man sat awkwardly on the bed that didn't belong to him, in a room that also didn't belong to him... how did he end up here? he intended on staying sat in the living room but he blinked and ended up... in someone's bedroom. well, he remembered how it happened but it was all so sudden. as idia fiddled with his fingers shyly on the bed, (name) conversed with ortho while tidying up their room.

idia's eyes swept across the many shelves adorned with anime figures and manga collections. so they knew about all the classic animes... that's definitely a green flag for idia. his eyes caught the figure on (name)'s desk, a lively blue-haired lady in the cutest get-up ever... "wait, you know miko? the virtual idol?" he mumbled to himself. "eh, oh, of course i do! she's the most popular in the world, no?" they replied, looking back to the figure idia was looking at.

"w-well yeah, i guess im just surprised meeting someone I-R-L who knows about that stuff, haha..." mentally, idia was beating himself with a stick. he sounded so... online. chronically. but (name)'s laugh brought him from his embarrassment. "yeah? i really like that 'nerd' stuff; matter in fact, i'm saving up to buy an anime figure... one of those big ones."

the attention of the usually gloomy man was caught. did they mean... 1/4 scale? that's huge! idia always wanted one though... his room didn't have enough room for it, given all the technology and wires and overall mess... but a guy can dream. "oh? what character?" he inquired.

"preorder of that guy in the white shirt... the one who sits in that chair and has a crisis... yeah; his name is shin..." the other responded, putting a finger to their lips in thought. "whaaat, you know that show? so does my brother! he's a big fan!" ortho gasped loudly, jumping up from his spot in front of your television, where he left his game unpaused. "haha, really?"

idia nodded frantically. finally! another fan to converse with...! gah, only if he could get their number... "hey, idia, you go to night raven, right? i saw the emblem on your uniform... i do too." (name) smiled. "i know this is so random, but we're learning about each other, right? i thought i'd let you know that i also attend the same school... i only take the online courses, though. i'm excused from a few things since i transferred only recently..." they rambled on, idia's face lighting up. like all of his social anxiety had evaporated and he was filled with giddy joy; akin to a child making their first friend at recess.

"yeah? i've heard about you, then.. w-well! not about YOU but about the person taking only online classes but that happens to be YOU so i guess i learned about YOU, ahahaha..." idia's mouth and mind worked together to run miles a minute. he sounded stupid now. kill him please, per his request. (name) laughed along with ortho at his behavior. "yeah? well, how about we exchange contact information? we have similar interests and attend the same school... we should team up." they gave him a thumbs up and began looking for their phone.

"eh, well, i guess talk more even when we aren't together in person... if it's not too much, you could tell me more about yourself and the school... in preparation for when i actually go in person... you're actually my first friend here." the confession made idia perk up. HE of all people... would be their first friend? was this all an elaborate scheme to befriend him?! his head felt floating, like it was soaring around in the clouds. someone actually wanted HIM to be their friend.. their FIRST friend? never in a thousand years would he have expected that.

idia whipped his phone out and nodded feverishly. "y-yes! we can talk as often as you want! i'm online when i'm not at school... and i'm quick with responses..." now he was back to the bumbling loser he was a bit ago.

as the babysitter and the older brother exchanged phone numbers, the latter noticed the time. "woah; hey, i've probably gotta get home... my... mom wants me there." he said, a quick lie spilling out of his mouth. in reality, one of his favorite games had a new event coming out in approximately 30 minutes and idia needed to be there as soon as it started. his mom wasn't even home, and wouldn't be for a little bit... bur no way he could tell (name) that. they would think he was weird for being so... present in his video games. he couldn't weird out the person who WILLINGLY wanted to be his friend, could he?

no, he couldn't. he wanted to keep them around for as long as possible. i mean, even if they were just as obsessed with games as idia, it's still embarrassing to leave with the reason being a video game... but the next meeting will go uninterrupted. idia will make sure of it.

authors note? another ramble-y chapter... i hope everyone reading this kinda gets that this is more of a ... strangers to crushes thing rather than strangers to LOVERS... it's very idia focused BUT maybe i could do a spinoff of this series when i finish it and maybe... it could be more "reader x idia" than just.. idia makes a cute friend. maybe in the spinoff, reader will actually attend school and idia will be there to help... i dunno. that sounds cool to me? i cannot promise it will happen BUT maybe ill make it work.. okay it's nearly my bedtime so BYE BYE!!! thanks for reading!!

[bomberqueen17]

Loftus Bralette MK2 Go!

So the thing about the bralette pattern was that it was fiddly. There are a few seams where the seam allowance is one millimeter. That's hard to do. I am capable of that but have not the habit of the necessary carefulness. And I know a lot of the fit issues of the muslin-- which I did shorten the straps of, and put on to check the fit, and again then did not want to remove, so while it is not perfect it is currently the best bra I have (I have some decent RTW ones but forgot them at the farm so my need is dire right now). Anyway a lot of the fit issues of that could stem from careless sewing, so. I immediately cut out a second one with no alterations, just being MEGA SUPER ULTRA careful to cut EXACTLY on the lines.

I used a kit I bought from Porcelynne when I bought all the other materials. I'd meant to make a couple practice ones but then, you know, the kit wasn't that expensive and I might as well just. Do it!

It's black heavy-duty powermesh, black nylon cup lining, and pretty red lace, with black picot elastic and other findings, and then the 2" wide band elastic is metallic silver. Which is so cute and I wish I'd been able to buy just lengths of that elastic, but I wasn't able to find any on the site.

Anyway, the pattern is fiddly but not that challenging, and like 90% of the battle is remembering which way each thing goes. So I figure, if I make another one immediately I've a high chance of the best possible outcome. So here's some of that progress. Well, mostly I'm going to talk about equipment and setup.

I cut out all the materials while on a Zoom call with friends-- someone I know started hosting weekly Zooms to "meet up" with friends and work on crafts sometime during the pandemic I think, and I joined in somewhere in that time. That person has since become my sister's roommate so sometimes I go over there and participate in person, LOL. Anyway I set up my computer at the kitchen counter, got out my little cutting mat and rotary cutter, and just spent two full hours very carefully cutting out pieces and this time I labeled them with the tape before I even cut them out.

The red lace won't take a mark from anything but a Sharpie, which won't wash out, so I wasn't able to mark notches. So I just carefully stacked every copy of the pieces on top of the paper pattern piece, and put them into a baggie that way. I was so so so so careful to get the fabric cut right on the cutting lines, because the sewing lines are marked but I can't transfer those marks, and I discovered sewing the muslin that I can't sew on a line like that anyway (and often it was on the wrong side of the fabric for me to see.)

I'm home alone for two or three days, so I've taken over the living areas of the house to work in. This involved setting up a spare sewing machine on the absolutely-not-for-sewing desk that Dude uses to wfh, temporarily. I had forgotten I owned this machine, and it is a more modern one than the ten-stitch mechanical Kenmore that's my primary axe these days. This one is a Singer 6235 from the 80s, one of the most sophisticated mechanical ones they made before computerized machines were introduced; it's not high in resale value because some of the gears are nylon, but this particular individual one has clearly not been used much. It has wildly nonstandard bobbins, but I got a baggie of like twelve of them with it.

[image description: a Singer 6235 sewing machine, made of beige plastic and beige-enameled metal with black control panels, sits on a wooden desktop. In the background is a framed photo of a pink Easter bunny and a girl in a blue shirt, this is me and Dude from 2007. He rented that costume and wore it to a roller derby bout and got his ass grabbed SO much by many many people who absolutely did not suss that he was a dude in there. But the fluffy tail, he says, protected him.]

And when I opened the top, I found every single accessory lovingly stored there, including the package of needles it came with, still all in their package. So.

[Image description: looking down into the top of the sewing machine, which is molded plastic and has a number of esoteric plastic and metal items carefully stowed within custom-shaped cradles, with a letter key on top which is useless without a manual to decode it but good news I found a PDF copy of the manual on Al Gore's Blessed Internet so all is well.]

The single accessory I'm most excited about, however, is the reason I'm telling you all about all of this, which is otherwise not particularly relevant-- you can sew this bra on any machine that can do a zig-zag, and most of it is constructed with straight stitch because it is almost entirely non-stretch, you just need the zig-zags for the elastic attachments. It is:

A SEAM GUIDE. Which i cannot BELIEVE is no longer standard with sewing machines. It's in the above photo at top right, a metal thing with a knob in the middle. It screws into a hole in the machine bed and then you position it to hold your fabric as you sew, to make sure you do not stray over too far.

[Image description: a view through the sewing machine's active area, showing the presser foot down, the needle in some sheer black fabric, and the little metal item in question screwed into place with the metal arm of it pushed all the way over, actually touching the presser foot, holding the fabric at a 1/4" seam allowance.]

Indispensible. Though, I should have switched presser feet, because when the seam guide touches the edge of this presser foot it's actually slightly over 1/4". Just a fraction, so I've let it be because at least it's consistent and it's better than i was doing in the previous version.

so. This machine is needlessly complicated but works pretty darn well so I'm going to keep using it at least until dude gets back from his work trip on friday night.

I'm a bunch of the way through assembling the second bralette, but I think I'll talk about that in its own post, this has descended into sewing machine wittering. Suffice to say, knowing what i'm doing and what to expect means I'm doing a lot better. I'm also doing all the fiddly shit like pressing seams, and let me tell you, ironing synthetics is pointless LOL, so I'm just topstitching everything. I stopped for the day because the bobbin ran out, it was 9pm, and I looked it up and the way you wind the bobbin on this machine is by keeping the whole thing threaded including the needle and just winding it inside the bobbin case, which is So wild I definitely did not want to attempt it at 9pm after a long day. So, tomorrow I will actually talk about sewing this bralette.

But, I did have one more thing to show off-- I actually have purchased an after-market, universally-compatible seam guide that can just magnet itself to the throat plate of any machine, and was fully intending to use it on this project.

[img description: my hand holding a little metal gizmo with some arcane writing on the front; it's a square with a solid longer piece coming off the top, angled down on both sides.] This one came from Madam Sew or something, and comes with a plastic ruler with holes in it, and the idea is you put the ruler down, put your needle down so it goes through the hole marked at the distance you want, put your presser foot down to hold it, and then snap this magnetic guide at the edge of the plastic, and then it's foolproof. The thing is it doesn't work great at 1/4" either because again, that's where the presser foot is. So. I can't find the plastic ruler currently either because I am a disaster. But if your machine doesn't have a seam guide you can buy one of these and then you have a seam guide. I recommend it 100%; learning to sew a straight line is one thing, learning to follow a seam allowance is another, and you can improve your sewing immensely by taking the easy approach to it. You have to remove the guide for things like topstitching or other fiddly things, but for the vast majority of seams, including curved ones, this works a treat, makes it so you basically don't have to think, and just-- well, as long as your cutting-out was precise, you're guaranteed to get an accurate fit if you just use this kind of dealie to be precise about seam allowances.

The free version is that you get a piece of masking tape, put it down on your throat plate, and mark in Sharpie exactly where your seam should go, a big thick bold line as long as you can get it. That helps a ton too. Cashmerette's knit patterns all have 3/8" SAs, which aren't a standard marking on throat plates, and their wovens are all 1/2" instead of 5/8", so that's *also* not a standard marking, so I have long ago put the masking tape on but sometimes I also just use the seam guide because then I don't have to keep paying attention.

[khufiya-khaufnak-antariksh]

So earlier today I introduced some of my WIPs to some new people, and I realised that many people might not be familiar with those two WIPs.

Kriya Petri: fantasy (with body horror & dystopian elements). Setting: A country called Fillor on a planet called Thuluke. In Fillor, to bind yourself to the one you love, you require a trinamate potion to seal the bond. 'Trinamate' is marriage (though that is a rather crude translation of the word). But to get a trinamate potion legally, the couple needs to be… acceptable. A man and a woman who plan to have at least one child. Yes, it's been 1000 years since the global apocalypse, but 'sufficient reproduction' is still a concern among the Filore people (plus it's a moral virtue for the Divine Monarchy, who reside on the cloudlands, with an iron grip on the institutes of Fillor). A potioneer wants to elope with their lover, but the pair is, let's just say, not acceptable. So what are they to do? The potioneer brews a trinamate potion on their own, finding the closely guarded methods & ingredients for the potion through who-knows-who, bunch of shady people. The potion explodes. The potioneer knows the punishment for something like this. They'll be condemned to Kaewoe (so will their lover, if anyone finds out), a realm so deep below the ground that it's close to the core of the planet. Kaewoe, where the mind & body are destroyed by the horribly high concentration of magic. Kaewoe, the names & lives & loves of all who enter it, all slowly turned to unknowledge. Good thing stealing identities is absurdly easy in Fillor! The potioneer wipes all memory of their crimes & love (or else the Thought magicians would know), flees to the city of Naebo. Their name is now Kriya Petri,

.

Welcome To The Real World: scifi, fantasy, surrealism, horror, tragedy

This one's in very early stages Inspired by Frankenstein Setting: The Great South Asian Rip in Reality, where physics (time & space both) is just completely twisted. The year is sometime in the 2070s. Sometimes it's the 2040s outside the Rip. Depends when/where you step out. Moh-maya, reality's very fabric & everything that keeps up the illusions that comprise reality, are very malleable in here. Main character: Kabir aka Moksh. A closeted Indian trans man who lives a double life, perhaps even a triple life. One in which he's a cis woman & a regular bright STEM student (STEM studies also include study of moh-maya). Another in which he's just some guy with good friends (the most authentic of his lives), where he goes by the name Kabir & uses moh-maya to present as his true self. If only temporarily. (it's painful, mentally & physically, whenever he has to revert to the female form). The third is some mad scientist bullshit, he's going by the name of Moksh among his fellow mad scientists & his main project is a moh-maya Frankenstein's monster that others can share their consciousness with, such that they can experience shape-shifting more easily & go where they physically aren't, do things they physically can't. Let's simply call it the 'entity'. Due to many reasons, creating this entity is pretty illegal. Hence the new name & collaboration with fellow shady people. the plot, put shortly: he starts doing vigilante justice w/the entity & then goes far & gets more & more consumed w/work & things go verrrrrrryyyyyy wrong despite starting with (dubious but) good intentions.

in this second one i neglected to mention the fact that you, as the reader, get front row tickets to the main character's spiral into madness & justifying murders thru the entity + the entity is a whole person & has opinions + a whole lot of other stuff, I DID mention that this WIP is in very early stages but holy fuck i could go on & on about it (just not in a way that can be packaged in a structured & sensible introduction)

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Raven Wings from Phoenix Ash

The Raven Queen gifts all of her reapers with a pair of raven wings. Kravitz teaches Lup, the newest recruit, how to use hers.

This is my other fic for Shadaras for the Kitchen Sink Bingo.

CW: past child abuse

AO3

FFN

SquidgeWorld

It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to fly. I had flown before; Fly was only a third level spell. It was just that my magic was all messed up, between the way I had escaped the staff and how I had been “pardoned” for my so-called “crimes” against life and death. I was a wizard, but ever since the Raven Queen had transformed me from a lich to a reaper, I had been short on spell slots. At least I still had the basics of Evocation down-pat.

I couldn’t fly in the way I used to, but I did have a pair of wings on my back. Glossy, black raven wings. My stick-in-the-mud mentor also had them. I was pretty sure that everyone who served the Raven Queen had raven wings. I wonder if there were any reapers who had almost as many wings as Krav’s Birdmom does. I’m still not entirely sure how many wings the Raven Queen has, just that she has at least eight – six sprouting from her back, and a pair covering her eyes. She didn’t need eyes for her piercing gaze to rip through my soul and deem me worthy of rehabilitation as a reaper instead of being doomed the Eternal Stockade.

“When you said we’d be training, I was thinking that you’d lay out some mats in a gym,” I said. Instead of a gym, we were at the edge of a canyon. There seemed to be old buildings carved into the cliff side. “And then we’d try to hit each other with sickles.”

“They’re scythes, and we can do that later,” Kravitz said, like he was itching for an excuse to beat cha’girl up with his fancy stick, instead of having been commanded by his goddess and the goddess of fate to take me under his semi-metaphorical wing. The feeling was mutual. At least he was using the least stupid sounding of his work accents. “But for now, we’re going to investigate a cult that has set up base within these walls.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re practicing dark magic, magic that is an affront to Our Queen and –”

“No,” I interrupted. “Why this canyon?”

“You’d have to ask the cultists – that was rhetorical –  but my guess is that they’re after the water magic. These walls had once been a city, and it had depended on a river that had flowed through the canyon, and in years of drought, they had used powerful magic to make sure everyone had survived.”

“What happened to it?”

“The former goddess of magic died in the middle of a drought.”

“What, did the gods of this world not have their act together for long enough that these people died?”

“Well, the goddess of magic had come back from the dead before!”

“Oh, I see how it is. When a goddess uses magic to bring herself back from the dead, it’s a miracle that keeps cities from dying off. But when I do it –”

“That’s besides the point.” Kravitz closed his eyes and pinched his brow. “This cult has been pushing the limit of what constitutes an open container.”

Oh. That was bad. That was potentially very bad. Create Water is only a first level spell, not an insta-drowner. But if the cult figured out how to change it, it would change the whole playing field!

(And if you’re wondering why I didn’t want it for myself when I was still so tragically low on spell slots, well, water is the opposite of cha'girl's brand.)

The ruins were only a hop, skip, and a Dimension Door downwards, but once more, cha’girl was frustratingly low on casting abilities. And it wasn’t even like I had somehow been turned from a wizard or a warlock, either. They were just –

Not gone. Just temporarily missing.

“Do you have a ladder? Oh, are you going to show me how to do the ‘rip a hole in the fabric of space’ thing with my scythe?” I made sure to get the name right this time, because I genuinely wanted Kravitz to teach me how to do that. Teleportation without the spell slots was right up her ally.

“No, that’s for later in your training,” Kravitz said, like someone who knew all too well that I was a metaphorical flight risk who wanted to escape my community service. And no, I wasn’t looking to set up my own cult. I just wanted to get back to my family. It had been ten years since I had seen them. I missed them, and there were some very big mistakes we needed to fix, both from a decade ago and ones that some of them were still making. Of course, I wasn’t going to let Kravitz know that. Cha’girl had to keep up an air of mystery and all that jazz. “We’re going to glide down.”

I summoned my scythe and ran my hand down the staff. “What, does this thing unfold into a paraglider?” I hoped it wouldn’t unfold like an umbrella. That was just too close for comfort.

“Your wings would get in the way of one.” Well, good thing I didn’t have any paragliding trips planned for the near future. Stupid wings. Stupid Kravitz. Stupid Raven Queen. “Now put your scythe away. We’re flying down, and I don’t want you to impale yourself on it.”

“Aww, Kravvy, you do care.”

He walked behind me. “Spread your wings.”

When I was little, one of my uncles had tried to teach my brother and I to swim. Tried is a key word here. His idea was teaching was to throw us in the water. “Are you going to push me?”

“No, landing is uncomfortable enough when you’re new at this.” With one hand he pointed at a nearby, only somewhat-crumbled balcony. With the other hand, he adjusted one of my wings. “Try to land there. Now, jump.”

I tried to will my feet to move, I really did. I had flown before. I wasn’t afraid of heights. This should have been the most fun part of my deificly-imposed community service so far.

And it wasn’t like I hadn’t died before, either. I had died plenty of times. I had become a lich so I would still be able to help my family after death. And now? Hells, I was the immortal servant of the goddess of death! I shouldn’t have been afraid of falling.

Back when my brother and I had been living with our aunt – our good aunt, not one of the crappy ones – there had been a swimming hole less than half a mile from her house. But thanks to our uncle, we had been scared of the water. No matter how hard we had tried, we just couldn’t bring ourselves to jump into the swimming hole for years.

I couldn’t bring myself to jump now.

“Lup? What’s…” Kravitz dropped his stupid work accent. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I can’t,” I said, cursing the tremble in my voice. “I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can. I’ll be right there to catch you.”

I still didn’t trust him, so I don’t know why I stepped off that ledge. What I do know is that Kravitz was and still is a cheating cheater (pro-tip: don’t gamble against Death). He didn’t glide down all the way with me. Oh, he took a few flaps, but then he pulled out his sickle and cut a rip through space that led to him walking out onto the balcony.

The balcony on which I crashed. I scrambled to get my footing, and Kravitz was somewhat true to his word. He grabbed my arm and made sure I wouldn’t plummet to my, well, probably not to my doom. To my discorporation or whatever. He prevented the Raven Queen from having to make another new body for me. He gave me a bit over twenty seconds to catch my breath (and sure, I didn’t need to breathe, but it was still calming) before turning away from me and walking towards the doorframe into the cliffside.

“Let’s go,” he said, stupid work accent back in place. “We have a cult to investigate.”

Together, we walked into the dark of the cliffside.

~

A/N: Fun fact: ravens learn to fly rather quickly. It takes longer for them to learn to land.

[meditating-dog-lover]

House cleaning

So I vacuumed and dusted my house this weekend. Very thoroughly and I spent a lot of time. I'm surprised by how dusty my room gets despite the fact that I do vacuum it and I have an air purifier.

I'm not the best at dusting/cleaning, thankfully my mom and sister have been very helpful. I love my vacuum too (lightweight and cleans soo well).

A lot of things also collect dust, like rugs, clothes, and fabrics. So leaving throw pillows, piles of clothes, dog matresses, and dusty rugs can cause a lot of dust collection regardless of how well you vacuum. In our TV room we had a nice rug that would collect a lot of dust and dog fur. I once knelt on it to pet my dog and got up and had a lot of fur on my legs.

I got pretty itchy and red while I was vacuuming and dusting, and all the dust I gathered and threw out did cause some inflammation, which thankfully subsided and disappeared by today. I am going to clean my car at the carwash tomorrow and I know that will help with any irritants that can be lurking in my car. I might even replace my car filter.

I'm allergic to pollen and the pollen count is so high this year. I have a pollen tree right by my bedroom window which is covered in pollen on the outside.

I'm still going to consider allergy shots, but at the very least I can dust and vacuum. This will help so much with my skin inflammation.

I'm always so confused when it comes to cleaning my house because I never know what to do and where to start - dusting, vacuuming and removing clothes, pillows, dog toys and mattresses off the floor is a good place to start.

I'm also meeting with my personal trainer tomorrow morning, yay! I wore a summer dress today and went out with my family to a restaurant. For someone who had bad body dysmorphia this was a big improvement. I do struggle with poor confidence issues still, but mostly surrounding my health and social skills. I do want to exercise to improve my insulin sensitivity, and my strength too but mostly my insulin. And I want to measure my body fat percentage. Because I haven't exercised in a while, my muscle composition may be a bit low and my fat composition may appear higher. I am planning on going back to my own circuit workout routine, but I'm going to take small steps because I want to exercise in a way where I'm promoting positive reinforcement (I'm going to be strong and increase my insulin sensitivity) than negative reinforcement (you need to exercise now otherwise you're going to get sick, fat, and lazy).

I've heard of people who've had their eczema clear up when they moved to a foreign country/area. I saw this video on Youtube where this guy explains how he cleared his skin by moving from Toronto to a beachy town in Mexico. Toronto is a major city that is industrialized and, of course, will have a lot of pollution/environmental irritants compared to a less industrialized/populated area. I'm not planning on relocating, but I can at least minimize irritants and get allergy shots. Relocating is a lot easier said than done, but I've heard of people who had their skin clear up when they did so.

I'm going to get more nice clothes next weekend since I absolutely did not want to leave my house this weekend (it's too hot and I'm exhausted). I wanted to get some nice shoes as well. I'm just so happy I wore the sundress today and I've always been so self-conscious about my body (especially my arms). Well I look fine right now and know I lost a lot of weight with IF and walking. I'm going to get my body fat percentage measured tomorrow, too.

I had a conversation with my mom and sister about my stress and anxiety, which was helpful and did make me feel better. My skin is now less inflamed. I know it's getting a lot better, but exposure to irritants can make it worse. And cleaning and dusting made that irritation even worse temporarily. But this will all be taken care of and I'm going to meet with my PT tomorrow and start exercising too. I'm also meeting with my doctor next week to go over my current skin progress.

I just want to be healthy in life. Living with a narcissistic dad who didn't allow us to lead physically and mentally healthy lives was tough, which is why I'm taking that chance now.

[tcshi]

BLUE LOCK YANDERE : mikage reo

⚠︎ : dark content ahead ! obsessed!reo, noncon/dubcon, hints of kidnapping, drugging, fingering, reo is an absolute creep in this one, lmk if i missed anything, minors do not interact.

reo loves you most like this.

docile and putty in his arms.

well... he knows it's because it had been 9 months since you've touched, conversed or seen any other people besides him. but this thought lies trivial in his head because reo had already made himself believe that it's certainly not the case.

his pretty doll... you're here because you want to, right? you're here staying with him in his impractical, grandiose manor an hour and a half away from the city because you love him, yes? you love him. and nothing could change that irrefutable fact.

not even when there are certain days where you would stare at him, dark glaring eyes and frowning face as if telling him without needing to open your mouth that you disgust me and i fucking hate you as you're sat on your side of the bed, chained to the ceiling of the room while he slips on his training gear. not even when you would utter the words that you knew reo loathed, especially coming from the same mouth who blabbered incoherent proclamations of your love for him when you're all dopeyㅡall because of a special drug concocted just for him to use on you, something that his multi-million dollar name can provide and can hide from the public just like how his name managed to manipulate the case of your disappearance.

so when you take your own initiative to seek for him and his comfort, reo takes more than what you're offering. it's because it's rare. it happens once in a blue moon and who's to predict when this'll happen again? right? right.

so when you start pushing his hands away from wandering underneath your (his) shirt, his cold fingertips dragging against your skin until they're fiddling with the hem of your cotton panties, he's ignoring your pleas of stopping. your voice is nothing but a soothing melody that reaches his ears, warms his heart and sends a bolt of shock that makes the length in between his legs throb with want.

reo ignores the way your tears cascaded beautifully on your cheeks and although he takes more than a necessary second to watch your crying face, he dips a finger inside your panties with comforting words that weren't at all comforting.

you continue to writhe against his hold but to no avail, you were still too weak from the events that took place not even a full 24-hour ago and instead continue to voice out your pleas for him to stop.

reo doesn't stop of course. you're in no place to tell him what to do. he loves you, very much so but he will never take your word for anything except when you're trying to convince yourself (and him) that you love him.

he traces the sheer arousal that coated your pussy lips, planting soft kisses on the side of your head before he finally slips a finger in, expertly maneuvering his digit to the spot that had you moaning and finally temporarily ceasing your annoying cries for him to stop.

thank fuck that you did. reo really doesn't want to resort in plastering your lips with duck tape again because he loves to shove his tongue inside your mouth while he's fucking you. he also loves hearing you whine and moan for him but he can't exactly do those things when you've got your lips sealed right?

reo makes a quick work of easing down his own shorts with one hand, slipping it off from his ankles and letting the fabric fall down the bed while he's busy finger-fucking you.

he traces the outline of your breast through your shirt, palming your chest before he's pinching and rolling your hardened nipple in between his fingers.

“god... so fucking pretty...” he groans in your ears, rubbing his dick against the skin of your plump ass. he licks the tears that fell down from your eyes, moaning at the salty taste as you gasp and trash in his hold, mouth pleading for him to go fasterㅡstop, please but you're very much evidently grinding against the flat of his palm, rubbing your engorged clit against the rough skin.

reo chuckles darkly, raising your shirt up and bunching it in his palms before he's shoving it in your mouth. he cups your bare breast with his free hand, continuously pumping his finger in and out of your cunny before he’s pushing two more fingers in, one that had you sobbing.

“reo please... i need itㅡplease..” you babble incoherently. gone completely was your cry of asking him to stop, oh so sweetly whining his name and pleading with him while you're busy grounding yourself against his hand.

he gives your temple another kiss, eyes glazed over as he watches his fingers covered in your slick disappear in your pussy.

“yeah?” reo challenges, other hand tweaking your pebbled nipples. “gonna let me take of ya, my pretty baby?”

when you nod your head erratically, he knows the newest version of the drug in your system was more than a success and was more than efficient enough to hold its effects. he'll just have to observe the longevity of this one, then he'll be back into slipping one of the same pills in your drink and watch as you tether between your morals or succumbing to him completely. you'll come around, and it won't be for far too long.

[aizawasbrazybaby]

Garou x Stalker!Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: Dom Reader, Sub Male, Pet names, Biting, mentions of blood, Degradation, Praise Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Anal, Virgin!Garou

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A/N: Hey my loves! I’m tryna get ALL (37 to be exact╥﹏╥) of my drafts out so I can finish and start my new mini series. That’s all enjoy this smutty messʕ-᷅ᴥ-᷄ʔ

A king to a God

“Bad guy?..nah,” your acrylics clacked against the hardwood floor one after the other before you slammed your hand down, “ah, a menace to society.”

Garou stumbled inside his home only stopping upon seeing your body stretched across his floor. Blood simmered from the various injuries he’d sustained from fighting.

“It’s you,” he pressed his fingers on his bandaged rib cage.

“Hey little monster,” you smirked, slinking your body up into a stance.

He’d seen your face many of times in oceans of people. Honestly you stuck out like a sore thumb when he was out in public. Those eyes, they were so full of life yet so empty. He thought nothing more than being a strange coincidence. You did live in the same city after all.

Garou took a step back ready to defend himself from any surprise attacks. In the blink of an eye you disappeared. You were just gone. He stilled himself listening for the faintest breath. Nothing. It was almost as if you never existed.

“Don’t think I’ll go easy because you’re some pretty little bitch. Anyone who stands in my way wil-”

His body dropped to the ground. Pain fluctuating through his veins temporarily paralyzing him. His back pressed into the cold floor with your knee between his bandages pecks.

“So eager to get thrown under the prison. Don’t worry my little monster your time will come soon but I wanna play first.”

His face reddened from the pain and the way your hero costume revealed so much of your skin, “I get it now. You’re just a wanna be S rank. A sorry ass good for nothing C rank. You must really be desperate for attention walking around in the whorish outfit. Hell, you couldn’t even make it in the book of hero’s.”

Your ass replaced your knee using Garou as nothing more than a pillow, “that’s. Where. You’re. Wrong,” your finger poked his nose to every word. A dark look covered your face. Lips curling menacingly.

“I guess it makes no difference to tell you since, well,” you giggled, “let’s face it you’ve been fucked the minute I’ve stepped foot in here. I’m part of a S rank unit that is kept out of the public eye. We’re the ones nations call when they need help. From the young age we are recruited our identities are kept hidden. Scum like you don’t come close to a challenge. Light work. A mere king talking to a god.”

He was quiet soaking in your words. Yeah he knew the top hero’s were strong but to have an entire secret unit. Feeling silly for not even taking it into consideration. He sighed looking toward his back door.

“Fine. You win this time but when I break out-,”

“Good god shut up with that,” your hand rubbed the erection that was growing in his loose pants, “I’ve been watching you for a long, long time. I know your likes and dislikes. Everything about you, the things that get you off down to your days in the dojo. If I might ask would you like one last parting gift.”

He nodded too embarrassed to speak. His body was still paralyzed from the dart you hit him with. You bound his hand and legs together to various items using your special rope. Nobody on the planet was strong enough to rip through it. Not even god herself.

Pulling the empty dart from his side you grinned, “in a few minutes you’ll be able to move. And uh don’t try anything stupid. I’d hate to have to kill you before we can have fun.”

His dick sprung up leaving precum to collect in his bellybutton. Your clothed pussy slid on him. Garou let out a sigh that was hardly audible. It was so long since he thought about fucking anyone. Always so hyper focused on being the villain.

The warm wetness soaked in the soft fabric driving him crazy. He just wanted to feel the real thing. How wet you were just for him.

“You filthy fucking slut. Don’t tease me,” his hips bucked up. Feeling more of you than before.

You ripped your panties off shoving his cock inside you, “so impatient.”

So tight. Velvet like. Wet so fucking wet. Those thoughts ran through his mind.

He moaned. Loudly. Wanting to say the name that you hadn’t told him. Your feet were firmly planted on the floor letting your knees do all the work. Lifting you just to drop back down on his curved dick. Hitting all the right spots that made you tingle.

“You certainly live up to your name, little monster.” You stroked the side of his face. His teeth chomped down on your forearm with his eyes rolled back. You gasped before smiling watching blood trickle down. On several occasions you witnessed him bite random objects while jerking off so this was only expected.

“Good boy,” you whispered in his ear.

You kissed his puffy lips with an iron taste melting in your mouth. His dick filled you with a good sensation you adored so much.

“Can’t believe I’m fucking a dirty bitch like you.” His words sunk in.

“You love it. Your dick doesn’t lie,” you spat. Honestly everything he said was true. You were just a hero that liked to fuck villains. Man or woman it never mattered. As long as you could slut them out one last time and give them something to remember you by.

Though his cum filled you, you weren’t finished with him. A simple creampie wasn’t gonna cut it. Not at all. Garou was a special case and something so small wasn’t a good enough memory to leave him with.

A moaning grunting mess he was. Going soft and getting hard all over again. It didn’t help that you never took his dick out of you. Bouncing until his legs shook uncontrollably.

“I’m going to drain you for all that you’ve got.” Your hand ran up his chest.

Putting your back to him you leaned until there was nothing but mixed cum on his exposed dick. Sliding his length in your ass like it was nothing. By that point you’ve done so much this was nothing but child’s play.

But to Garou you were a demon. A humanoid hell sent succubus. He felt the addiction to you starting to grow. If anything he definitely believed you when you said you watched him. How else would you know he was an ass guy. How bad he wanted to touch and slap that beautiful thing.

And the way yours clapped on him sent him to oblivion. A high so out of this world he didn’t even remember loosing half his sperm count in your sopping ass. Only the feeling of being in paradise.

“I knew you had it in you my little monster,” you stood up stretching your back as if you just woke up from a nap, “unfortunately play time has ended. Time to meet your new friends.” the menacing grimace returned to your face.

[justmenoworries]

Lore Olympus Episode 220 Spoilers

Yeah, okay. Several things.

Why the heck does Kronos have control over Tartarus now? I didn’t see him eat a fucking pomegranate when he got free! And he can’t have eaten one in the meantime, because the last one was gobbled up by Persephone  before their battle! Furthermore, the last time we’ve seen Kronos in person, Tartarus literally swallowed him alive. And the way Persephone mocked him and his expression upon seeing them implied Kronos was afraid of Tartarus. How the hell did the power dynamic between them shift so much in just a few days that Kronos can prevent people from entering Tartarus? Including one of Tartarus’ rightful rulers???

 Also, why the fuck is he demanding Hera??? Again, the last time we saw him he was swearing revenge on Persephone! You know, the fertility goddess he wanted to get his hands on since at least episode 148????? The goddess who defeated and humiliated him in single combat???? Wouldn’t it be more logical for him to demand she show up at the door??? What is this sudden swerve back to having it out for Hera??? Yes, yes, I know, Golden Traitor and all but didn’t he take revenge for that ages ago when he literally tore her in half???? This whole Kronos-drama is so obviously fabricated, I’m tired. Please just let this story end, Smythe!

Ah yes, the return of Girl Boss Persephone. Who can only be badass when she���s up against someone lower on the foodchain. First Minthe, now Tori. The way she’s not even ashamed of guilt-tripping him that he was angry about her bad-shit crazy boyfriend tearing his friend’s eye out. Yes, it’s obviously Persephone who has a right to be angry and passive- aggressive here. This isn’t being a badass strong woman, this is being a bully. I hate how Persephone’s obviously letting out her frustration about still being scared of Apollo on some poor guy just doing his job. And how that’s portrayed as a-okay, because he was mean to her that one time in university. Because her rabies-having pitbull of a man hospitalized a friend of his over a picture. Yes, Persephone didn’t ask Hades to do this, but literally how the fuck was Tori supposed to know? From the picture that his brother took of hxp they certainly look close, so from Tori’s perspective it damn well seemed like Persephone first played the innocent bean, then sicced King Blueberry Jackass on his roommate out of spite.

I wish Persephone would just confront Apollo already so we can wrap up this eternal side-plot. Daphne got temporarily fridged for nothing it seems, since she and Persephone still aren’t talking about the SA. Or if they did it’s only mildly hinted at. What happened to Daphne swearing she would “tell everyone” what Apollo did? Wouldn’t a witness make the case pretty much won? Especially if you factor in popularity, since Persephone is a famous tyrant-killer now??? And also, she has Hera, literally the highest power on Olympus, second only to Zeus on her side???? Literally, the second Persephone, Daphne and Hera would choose to open their damn mouths, Apollo’s political career would be over like that. But we need the character for even more manufactured drama, so Persephone’s still too chicken-shit to expose him, despite beating up a literal titan only a few days before. No, it doesn’t help that she lampshaded it in the chapter, it just makes the whole thing more frustrating and annoying when the author pretty much tells you to your face “yeah my characterisation makes no sense, but I know it doesn’t so that makes it funny, lol.”

[mrpenguinpants]

Diluc: Comfort HCs

Oh no worries anon! We’re getting through everything and I can just see the top. I’m not sure if people saw it - probably not - but my entire blog has devolved into “See this genshin character? Animal.” and I refuse to have another cat character so I’m making Diluc a hawk.  

Apparently (maybe) Diluc’s bird is a nightingale [voicelines]. But I don’t really see Diluc the kind of guy to serenade you at night in secret because your father doesn’t approve of your marriage.

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Today’s appreciation post goes to fulltimeventisimp. Tumblr throws a goddamn fit when I try to tag people (even though I literally have a tag list but that’s apparently not good enough) so I hope you see this^^ You’ve been so nice and caring to me I feel so soft 😭 and I hope you’re doing alright! I’m remembering to take breaks and rest  💕💕

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Semi Part 1: Relationship HCs [I would read this just for the last point]

Diluc Ver: Jealous HCs

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji​  @mikeysbike​ @unionwitch​ @musekala​ @twistedsunnshiii​ @stanzastic​ @akaasea​ @xoneaboveallx​ @adoring-ghost​ @asheseiler​ @childelover​ @dilucsz​

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Diluc: Comfort HCs

Diluc has always had either an aloof or professional persona based on who he needed to talk to. In both cases, no matter the subject or how Diluc talked, there would always be some sort of forced distance so no one would mistaken it as familiarity or friendliness. There were only a two cases where he felt comfortable and those were with close friends and his staff. The third case being Kaeya but Diluc prefers to not acknowledge him and stashes that folder away. Even with friend’s such as Jean or Elzer, he could never really relax and let his true feelings slip until you burst into his life. Literally. “An unexpected outcome of an experiment,” is what Albedo had told him but regardless, since you entered his life he’s let himself regress into his younger days and let himself take for once.

Maybe that was why you had gotten so used to Diluc’s touched starved self that, when it was suddenly gone, you were feeling uneasy. Lately Diluc seemed to be spending longer hours at his desk or working at the tavern. You knew that he was just busy and there wasn’t any underhanded reasoning behind it, Diluc wasn’t that kind of guy. But did he seriously have to spend every waking moment, day or night, talking to the same people? When was the last time you saw him for more than two minutes? Diluc isn’t a big fan of idle talking but would it seriously hurt just to catch up? You didn’t even get together to have your weekly chess matches too.

You didn’t consider yourself a very clingy person and you knew what a relationship with Diluc was going to be like so why were you getting so bothered? You decided to take the situation in your hands and go visit him at the tavern only to see him so busy at work. It both made you a bit huffy, you wanted to storm in there and drag the man away from his work so he could stop trying to speed run life - not like that would ever happen because the second hand embarrassment would make you dissolve into the ground and you could never show your face to Diluc if you actually did that - but also making you more upset. Here he was, working and running his business, and you couldn’t go at least a couple weeks without seeing him. You ended up turning around and going home to scream into your pillow and sleep the heavy feeling away.

Your inner turmoil seemed to seep out into the open that Kaeya felt the need to bring it up. As much as Diluc dislikes Kaeya around you, he really does care about you and he still does owe you for the troubles he gave you when you first started going out with Diluc. He catches you while you’re off running errands and manages to coax you into getting some lunch with him. You’ve been bottling up your feelings so much that when Kaeya shows some concern you let it all pour out. At this point you don’t care if it’s Kaeya of all people you’re confessing your feelings to, you just want to get it off your chest because the man you’re in love with doesn’t seem to notice you’re actually there and it’s making you feel insecure about yourself. Kaeya gives you a sympathetic smile and tells you not to worry about it, he’ll personally knock some sense into Diluc.

Diluc’s been hard at work on another possible Fatui plan and business with the winery that he can’t help but feel that he was missing something. Was he overlooking something? He had planned this for a while so everything should be perfect. It wasn’t until Kaeya himself had to walk in, press his hand on the tavern counter, and call him an idiot that he realizes that he had been so wrapped up in his work and personal duties that he completely neglected you. He quickly passes his duties to Charles with a quick apology, throws his coat on, gives Kaeya a very strained thank you, and he’s out the door to find you. He’s already lost so much so he’ll be damned if he looses you. Not right now. 

You gave him the key to your home after a few months of being together, in case his he needed to temporarily hide should his night activities get the best of him. He’s already at your door in seconds as he quickly unlocks and steps in. 

“Beloved?” he softly calls out to not accidently scare you but he receives no reply. It’s dark inside but he can see your shoes at the door so he knows you’re inside somewhere. He softly closes and locks the door as he hangs his coat up. Carefully running a hand down the fabric and beside your coat as he looks around your small home. He’s always felt it was warm even when you weren’t here. The “home” he has will always be the place he grew up in but after everything that’s happened, he feels a bit alienated in there so he always appreciated that you lent him a key.

He catches the sound of some shuffling and follows the sound to see you under your blankets. He breathes a quick sigh of relief that you weren’t in any danger as he carefully circles around your bed before gently placing a hand on your back. He’s never been good at words or communicating his feelings so he’s at a bit of a standstill. Despite his reputation of being a nobleman of high esteem, you’re his first serious relationship. As far as he’s concerned you’re going to be his only relationship for that matter.

“I...apologize for my recent behaviour. It was never my intention to hurt you. I ended up letting myself get too blinded to see you were in pain and that was my fault. You don’t have to forgive me now but won’t you let me see your face my love?” he asked in all his awkward pose, put him in front of massive event and he’ll perform with flying colours but put him in front of his partner and he stumbles over his worlds like a new born fawn. But it seems to bring a small laugh from you as you peek from under the covers. 

He smiles softly as he sees your ears flush pink. No matter how many times he calls you that you always get so shy, he adores it. But he can feel the guilt rise up in his chest, you’ve always been there to support and reassure him that he was doing everything right. That things were going to be okay when he re-took his father’s business and you would be with him every step of the way. So in the best and awkward way that Diluc can manage, he tells you this. By the time he’s done he can feel his own face start to pink but it’s made you feel better so it was worth it. 

“Feeling better?” he smiles softly as you nod up at him as he lays down beside you, opening his arms in comfort, “Good, come here.” 

You shuffle closer to him as he holds you. It’s been awhile since he’s held you like this and even without realizing it, he’s missed this. Just you and him together, basking in each other’s presence. No work that needed to be attended to. No Fatui trying to cause him any more trouble. It was a safe place and one he didn’t want to let go.  

“What if we got married?”

There’s a beat of silence. 

Then a thud. 

You end up scrambling and falling off your bed face first. It’s a bit silent as you give off a pain groaned and climb back up and he can see your face has exploded red. He can almost see steam coming off as you try and nurse your nose. He blinks a bit at you taken aback as you stutter and scream into your hands as your brain seems to process what he just asked. You lift your face from your hands to look at him, somehow go even redder, and scream louder into your hands. He’s not sure if this is something he should be offended or concerned about but the weight he had been feeling earlier starts to fade away as a new and familiar feeling bubbles up. For the first time in half a month, Diluc let’s out a laugh as he tries to console you as you manage out a yes.

---

Gripping my writing hand why is no one stopping me? Diluc you’re literally acting like Childe rn. [if anyone is confused ahem Childe: Fiancé HCs (should be in my masterlist)]

Also, I continue to look away from the lore. Kaeya and Diluc are not on the best of terms but if they can have petty rich lady wine talk then Kaeya can walk in and call Diluc an idiot.

I was serious when I said that I researched hawk behaviours. I have learned the internet is horrible in telling me how hawks behave. But I did find this and I found this hilarious:

In the case of the red-tailed hawk, for example, the pair soar, screaming at each other; then the male dives at the female, who may roll in the air to present her claws to him in mock combat.

[harrywritingsbyme]

Wanna Make A Baby?

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

A/N: Older!Harry, dad!Harry, small!Y/n, and breeding kink all rolled into one The fluff is adorable and the filth is filthyyy! Enjoy🙃

It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to dream. He dreamt just about every time he closed his eyes and fell asleep. Dreaming was actually one of the highlights of his night. The first was being able to sleep next to you, and the second would be dreaming. When it came to the subject matter of his dreams, it varied every time. The only constant in his dreams would be you; that’s why he loved it so much. You’d be there right by his side doing whatever you were ‘supposed’ to be doing in his dream. At times, dreaming was a way for his mind to reveal his deepest thoughts and desires. And that’s what was happening this go round with Harry. 

In his dream you were there(of course), along with himself and two other people. As he walks out of the backdoor to you guys’ home and into the spacious backyard, his eyes go straight to a play structure that was in his line of sight. As he emerges from the house even more, he hears a small voice calling out to him. When Harry looks in the direction of the voice, he sees a small child coming down the slide of the large play structure with a big smile plastered across his face. Once the little boy is back on the ground, he immediately sprints over to Harry. While the boy is running over to his father, Harry crouches down so that he’d be on the little boys level and he waits for him. As the boy approaches, Harry’s able to get a better view of his features and he couldn’t believe his eyes. This boy, which Harry confidently presumed to he his son had just about every feature he had when he was that small. The only things that were missing were the straight blonde hair, and the green eyes. Those features were replaced by yours and he couldn’t be happier about that. After talking to the little boy, he agrees to play with him before pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek and sending him on his way so that he could talk to you for a moment. 

As the little boy runs back to the play structure, Harry stands back up and looks to his right, he sees you sitting contently in the shaded lounge area of you guys’ backyard. You had a book in one hand, while the other was delicately placed upon your very swollen and pregnant belly. There were no words that could be used by Harry to effectively and accurately describe the beauty that was radiating off of you. He would talk about how pretty you’d look if you were pregnant but now he was seeing it. The sight of you captivated Harry and drew him in. As he got closer and closer, Harry was able to fully take all of you in. He got to see every little detail. When he was right in front of you, he got to see the small floral print that was littered across your flowy dress. He was able to see your more rounded facial features better. And most importantly, Harry got to see your left hand that was adorned with the glistening diamond ring and wedding band he’d put on your finger almost three years ago resting right on top of the swell of your belly that was temporarily housing his child. He had the perfect view of the two things that symbolized your love for one another. Harry then sits down next to you and he sponges a light kiss to your exposed shoulder. Him doing this results in you sending a soft smile in his direction, which fills his body with a warm feeling. Harry then does the thing that he’d been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on you. He lifts his hand and brings it up to lower it down onto the upper curve your belly.  

Unfortunately, the moment he places his hand on your belly, is the exact moment he wakes up. His eyes shoot open and he’s instantly transported back to reality. He’s in the bed that he was lucky enough to share with you. Once his breathing stabilizes a bit and he takes in his surroundings, Harry’s hand begin to wander. He slowly but surely pulls his arm that was draped across your frame up and he begins to push his hand around your midsection. As he does this, he’s actively searching for some type of a bump. Even if it was a small one. To make sure his mind or hand wasn’t playing tricks on him, Harry brings it all the way up to your side and glides it down to where the lower hem of the shirt you were wearing began. He pushes his hand beneath the fabric and brings it back down to your stomach. It didn’t take long for Harry to realize that you weren’t in fact pregnant and that it was all just a dream.  

That’s the one thing Harry hated about dreams; you always wake up at the best part. When he came to the realization that you weren’t pregnant, his heart sank a little. He didn’t realize how much he wanted his own little family until now. He wanted to watch your body swell as you carried his child. He wanted to watch you be the best mother in the entire world. He wanted to have a child of his own that he could shower with love and affection. Harry wanted to be a dad and wanted to have every last thing he had in his dream. But he didn’t want to have to sleep in order to get it. In that moment, Harry felt like everything was taken from him. The only thing that he had left from that dream is you. This feeling inadvertently caused Harry to tighten his grip on you. Even though he didn’t want to wake you, Harry needed you more than ever right now. He buries his face into your neck and he begins to pepper soft kisses into your skin. He also coos softly into your ear for you to wake up. And it did do the trick.  

“What’s going on?” You grumble through your sleep. You could barely keep your eyes open but you could feel Harry’s mouth moving against your neck and his arm around your waist. 

“Just wanted t’say hello to my beautiful wife.” Harry hums, continuing to keep his face burrowed in your neck. Even though you were one of the sweetest human beings Harry’d ever met, you were still a bit cranky in the morning. And since he intentionally woke you up, he had a little bit of schmoozing to do. 

“Well it better not be before 8 am, because if it is I’ll kill you.” You grumble back to him, moving around a little bit so you could turn yourself towards him. 

“If I tell you that it’s 8:01 will you still kill me?” Harry asks jokingly (kind of). 

“I guess you’re safe.” You concede through a yawn, pushing yourself further into his body. 

“Good, and it’s actually quarter past 10.” Harry continues, looking over at the clock sitting on your bedside table for the actual time.

“You’re in the safe zone now.” You hum happily. “How’d you sleep?” You continue, beginning to feel awake enough to have a conversation with Harry. 

“Slept fine, but I had a pretty interesting dream though.” Harry simply replies. 

“Tell me about it.” You say back, lifting one of your legs and swinging it over his waist. You then push yourself up and over so that you’re sitting on his lap on top of him.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” Harry admires, sliding his hands up underneath your shirt to latch onto your hips. 

“I think so, but I’m always open for compliments.” You smirk, bringing your face down to his.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Harry hums back, slightly lifting his head to peck your lips.

“Thank you baby.” You coo softly. “Now tell me about your dream.” You say excitedly, lifting yourself back up to sit in his lap. Even though you were still a bit tired, you didn’t want to stop talking to Harry. 

“Alright.” Harry sighs, removing one of his hands that were on your hips to help lift himself up a bit. “So to make a long story short, we had a family. We had an adorable son who looked like the both of us, more like me, but still like the both of us, and you were pregnant. Which by the way, you looked even more stunning than I could’ve possibly imagined.” Harry explains, deciding to just give you a quick rundown of his dream rather than go through every last detail.

“That sounds nice babe.” You sigh softly, taking in everything he just said to you. Hearing him talk (and dream) about starting a family with you really warmed your heart. From the onset of you guys’ relationship you knew that you wanted to have a family with Harry. But now after being together for a total of almost 4 years and being married for about a year and a half of them, you were starting to realize that you and Harry were ready to take that next step in your lives and relationship. 

 “Yeah, but it made me think a bit more and I’m starting to feel like m’running out of time.” Harry says on a more sorrowful, but truthful note.  

“I thought the little guys never expire.” You reply, trying to get a better idea of where Harry was coming from. You weren’t expecting such a good and happy dream to make him sad like this.

“I mean late in life Y/n. M’getting older.” Harry explains further with a slightly frustrated huff. 

“You’re in your 30’s Harry.” You say in an attempt to reassure him. 

“Yeah, but 40 is right around the corner.” He reminds you. 

“Then you’ll be a dilf.” You reply, trying to show him the bright side of getting a little older. 

“You’re right, I would be a hot dad.” Harry agrees. 

“Exactly! So being a dad a little bit later in life isn’t so bad babe.” You reason, trying to cheer him up a bit more. You wanted him to really know that there was nothing wrong with being a dad at his age. You weren’t going to tell him this because if you did his head would swell to be the size of an actual planet (even though it wouldn’t take that much considering that he already had a pretty sizable head; upstairs and downstairs), but you thought that him being a bit older than you and being a first time dad was pretty hot. You couldn’t put your finger on why exactly you thought it was hot but you just did. Add onto that the fact that you’re married to him and you have successfully opened the floodgates. 

“You’d be an even hotter mom though. Like milf to the highest power.” Harry says bluntly. 

“Well thank you for your honesty.” You chuckle (and not so secretly roll your eyes) at his statement. After being with Harry for as long as you have, you weren’t shocked in the slightest at his comment. Him not making a comment like that would be more shocking. 

“M’serious babe! You’d even be a milf before the baby even arrived. Like your body is already perfect now, but just imagine how much more perfect you’d look with our baby in here.” Harry rations as he ever so slightly presses his thumbs into the sides of your lower stomach . “You’d be nice and round and delicious. Y’know how much I like having something to grab onto.” He continues. As he talks, his hands move up your sides and right to your chest where he wraps his large hands around your breasts.

“Well those won’t be yours anymore.” You say sternly to him before smacking his hands away through your shirt.

“What about this?” He asks, gliding his hands back down and around to your ass. 

“You can keep that for yourself I guess.” You sigh in compliance. “I swear, it’s so hard sometimes to figure out who’s the oldest in this relationship. For a man thats knocking on 40’s door, I’d expect you to be a little more tame.” 

“What can I say.” Harry begins, tightening his grip on the flesh of your ass before pulling you higher up onto his lap. “I just have a hot wife. Like your personality is amazing and I love you so much for being the sweetest human being alive but you’re gorgeous. I can honestly say that m’gonna want you ten times as much as I already do once you’re actually pregnant.” Harry’s says truthfully. The both of you couldn’t deny that he was in fact telling truth. There were a couple times where he accidentally blurted out how bad he wanted to get you pregnant. 

“Are you just saying all this because you wanna knock me up?” You ask him playfully. 

“Is it working?” Harry asks in response to your question. He meant every last word that came out of his mouth, but he was hoping that it’d soften you up a bit so that you’d give him the green light when it came to commencing the baby making process. 

“Maybe, but you still have a little ways to go.” Now you were just fishing for some praise; and rightfully so. Harry always wanted to hear you praise him. Whether it be in the form of moans, screams, and/or whimpers, or in the form of words; Harry just loved to be praised. Now it was your turn.

“You’d look so beautiful baby. You’re absolutely glowing and gorgeous now, but you’d have an unmatched glow once you’re pregnant.” Harry explains in awe, continuing his “campaign” to butter you up. He honestly couldn’t believe that your already elevated level of beauty could be raised. “But if I’m being honest, m’gonna miss y’tummy like this.” Harry explains the ‘downside’ to your more rounded figure during pregnancy. 

“Why’s that?” You ask confusedly. One minuet he was saying how much more beautiful you’d be if you were pregnant, and now he’s saying that he’s gonna miss your figure now. Which one was it?!

“M’just gonna miss seeing and feeling my cock in y’little tummy. Y’still gonna be irresistible, m’just gonna miss that.” He explains. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll feel it in there. I always do.” You reply to him. When you say that, Harry can feel his cock twitch in his pants. 

“Are you gonna let me put a baby in there?” Harry asks with a little pout. 

“I’d love to have a baby with you baby.” You coo in response, bringing your hands up to his cheeks to squish them together a little. You then bring your face down to his before puckering your own lips and pressing them against his. His lips then begin to move languidly against yours. As the kiss continues, your need for each other grows. You were keeping your bodies as close to each other as possible too. Your arms were now around his neck and his arms were tightly wrapped around your back underneath your shirt to keep you as high up on his lap as possible. As Harry kissed you, you could feel his cock hardening beneath you. He was already a bit swollen from the images of your body that were ingrained in his mind. Now he was getting even harder at the prospect of being able fill you up and get you pregnant. All he wanted to do now as fill you up with his cock, and ultimately fill you up with his baby. 

Keeping one arm wrapped securely around your smaller frame, Harry maneuvers you both so that he’s kneeling on the bed. He then lifts himself up with you still being in his lap and pushes forward so that you’re lying back against the bed with him on top of you. When he does this, you can tell that things are getting heated so you quickly push at his chest to momentarily stop the kiss.  

“Just because were having baby making sex doesn’t mean that I don’t expect you to completely ravish me.” You say pointedly, making sure he knows the exactly what you want. 

“I would never give you anything less.” Harry replies with a smirk before smearing his lips back onto yours. As he kisses you this time, he shifts his weight over onto one arm and he uses the other to push your shirt up your body. Once it was all the way up to your chest, he swiftly pulls away from your face and tugs the shirt off of your body. This leaves you completely bare other than your panties which is the next clothing item he has his sights on. He wastes no time hooking his fingers around the sides and he yanks them down off of you. He instructs you to lift your legs up and once you do this he rips the flimsy material the rest of the way off your body. He tosses them off to the side and he focuses back in on your now exposed body. As he admires all of your features, he imagines what they’d look like once he gets you pregnant. When he looks at your breasts, he thinks about how much larger and sensitive they’d be. He also thought about how the soft and supple flesh would fill his hands perfectly. When his eyes drifted a bit lower to your stomach, he had a very clear picture of how you’d grow as your pregnancy progressed. He was looking forward to seeing your belly grow. When he reaches your thighs and hips, he immediately thought of how much more of a rounded figure you’d have. All of these things made Harry’s mouth water and his cock twitch. “So beautiful.” Harry breathes before bending down to lick into you.

“Oh my god baby!” You moan, feeling his skilled tongue lick into you. You could feel the tip of his tongue circling your entrance and prodding at it. This only made you want and need him even more. “Need you inside me so bad.” You cry out to him, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him up. When you say this, Harry sucks harshly on your clit before coming back up. He then shoves his boxers down to reveal his extremely hard cock. You could see his thick shaft standing proudly between his legs and you could see a small bead of precum beginning to emerge from his slit. Before coming in closer between your legs, Harry pushes back against your thighs so that your legs were spread as wide as possible for him. He places a tight grip on one side of your waist and he wraps his free hand around his cock. 

“Ready baby?” He asks, pushing his cock down your folds and stopping right at your entrance.

“So ready.” You pant, lifting your hips up a little against his cock.

“Good girl.” Harry hums before slowly beginning to push into you. As soon as he begins, your moans get louder.

“Oh my god! You’re so big!” You cry out to him, feeling the very familiar sting that came along with his cock stretching to fit inside your walls. Once he was a little bit inside of you, Harry’s hand leaves his cock and goes to the other side of your waist. Hearing you moan out to him like this from only having about an inch of his cock inside of you unlocked the raw and primal desire Harry had deep down inside of him. Add his desire to get you pregnant to this and he was a beast. Without warning Harry tightly grips onto your waist and he slams the rest of his cock into you. You then let out one of the loudest screams you’d ever made. The slight pain of him slamming all of his cock into you at once felt really good. You felt stretched, and you felt completely full. You could feel this fullness all the way in your stomach.

“Feel me in that pretty little tummy baby?” Harry pants smugly, already knowing the answer to his own question. All you could do was feverishly nod your head against the bed. You were too caught up in how full you were to even form a word in response.

“Good.” He simply states. And with this, he goes straight into pounding into you. The both of you could feel the raw passion radiating off of each other with every thrust. Even though Harry was shoving his cock deep into you over and over again, the both of you had one goal in mind. A baby. That’s what you both wanted, and this was how you two chose to get it. As he continues to thrust into you, Harry lowers himself down onto you. He wants you to really feel how deep he was inside of you. And he wanted to feel it for himself. Even though this is a slight change in position, it doesn’t stop Harry’s hard thrusts. He continues to slam his cock into you over again, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge with each one. You could feel his cock deep inside you, and Harry could feel his cock moving deep inside you. The two of you could also hear each others cries and moans, along with your praises better. You could hear his whimpers and moans at how good you felt around him accompanied with his growls of how he was gonna cum deep inside you. 

All of this made you want to sit on top of him and ride his cock for some reason. Even though your legs were mush, you still wanted to ride him. You wanted him to release every last drop of his cum inside of you and you knew just how to get him there.

“Wanna ride you.” You pant in his ear, continuing to claw at his back as his thrusts continued. Instead of verbally replying to you, Harry immediately lifts himself from you and flips you both over so that your straddling him with is cock still lodged between your walls. You were feeling an extreme warmth and tightness forming in the pit of your stomach and you were going to explode at just about any moment. It doesn’t take more than a second for you to start feverishly moving yourself up and down on his cock. Watching you become so desperate for a release pushed Harry even closer to unloading all of his cum into you.

“M’gonna cum soon baby.” He pants, lifting his hands from your hips to grasp your breasts in them.

“Don’t cum inside me baby. Forgot t’take my pill last night.” You whimper, continuing to push yourself back and forth against him. Even though you were just about completely out of it, you still had a little bit left to mess with Harry. When he heard this, all Harry could think about was the possibility of getting you pregnant right then and there. It was taking so much for Harry to not cum in that moment. While Harry’s trapped in his thoughts, you tug at one of his hands that were clasped around your breasts and you lower it down to your stomach which brings his attention back to you. Your next sentence lights a fire under Harry that pushes him right over the edge. “When you cum in me, our baby’s gonna be right in my tummy and I’m gonna grow and grow with our baby from all your love.” You pant down to him. 

At this, Harry removes his hands from your breasts and then flips you both so that you’re on your back and he’s on top of you. He wastes not time in getting back to slamming his cock into you. As he thrusts, you can feel his cock continuously slamming into the deepest part of you. He watches as your body quivers below him and he could feel your walls contracting around his cock. 

“Cum with me baby.” This was all Harry had to say in order for you to fall apart on his cock. Which in turn caused him to release as well. 

“Fuck!” You scream, feeling not only your extremely powerful release, but also feeling the thick and warm ropes Harry’s cum splashing against your walls.

“That’s it baby, take all m’cum.” Harry pants. He could his body become weaker and weaker with every rope of his cum that flooded your body. “Tighten up f’me baby.” Harry instructs, bring his hand up to your face to give you a couple light taps. Once he feels your walls clenching around him, he brings his arms around you back and he lays himself down so that you’re lying on top of him.

Once he does this, the both of you lay there for a good five minutes. You two were not only trying to gain feeling in your bodies, but you both were wrapping your heads around it all. There was a possibility that you two were going to have a baby. 

“I just know you’re gonna spoil the shit out of this kid.” You sigh, finally coming back to for you guys’ post sex chat. 

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you spoil the shit outta me!” You reply with a laugh. “And I expect nothing less with our baby.” You continue

“Well you’re my baby and you’re going to be carrying our future baby. So you both will be my babies that I love more than life itself which means that I’ll spoil you both rotten. Which speaking of babies, how many are we looking at? I was thinking 2.” Harry ponders.  

“Same.” You agree. “What if we have twins though?” You continue, thinking about all of the possibilities. 

“Then 4 kids.” Harry replies

“When you said that, my uterus trembled.” You tell him truthfully. 

“M’pretty sure that was just an aftershock from my dick.” Harry says proudly. 

“I doubt it.” You say smugly.

“Do I need to come over there and fuck yeh again? Because I will.” Harry says matter of factly.

“You’re getting older babe, don’t want you to kill yourself.” You laugh, bringing your hand up to his cheek.

“You’re gonna get it later.” Harry says, reaching up to pluck your hand off of him. “Just because you’re younger than me, doesn’t mean that I can’t go all day long.”

“I’ll be waiting patiently.” You hum. “Don’t want you to break a hip or anything.”

“Now y’really gonna get it.” Harry grumbles before sending a quick swat to your ass. 

The both of you had a feeling that this wouldn’t do the trick. But judging by how well this step of the baby making process went, you and Harry were more than willing to do it again. 

Masterlist

[animeyanderelover]

Can you do poly!Lau and RanMao with prompt 53? Thank you <3

Yo! Lau and Ran Mao are one of my favorite duos in Black Butler and without a doubt a poly!relationship I would love to be in💘. I also changed the prompt a bit due to two persons saying it.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsessiveness, kidnapping, drugging, being tied up

Prompt 53: “It is funny that you think you can actually leave us.”

"Don't you like the tea? Your face looks awfully much displeased." You quickly waved one of your hands, not wanting to be impolite whilst being invited by one of the people you had happened to meet through Ciel whilst working in the manor temporarily. "That's not it. It doesn't taste all too bad. It's just a bit...bitter.", you decided to say, realizing that it still sounded pretty fastidious. "Is that so? It was a new flavor since I added some strong herbs in hopes it would taste good. I apologize. Ran Mao, would you be so friendly to give our guest here a bit sugar?"

The girl just nodded, putting her tea cup down and grabbing the container with the sugar before standing up from Lau's lap and stepping next to your side. You hadn't bothered to ask why she was doing this all the time, but since Lau didn't seem to mind, you hadn't asked. Maybe you were a bit embarassed to do so, you didn't want to make yourself feel uncomfortable. But over time you had learned to not pay too much attention to it.

"Thank you, Ran Mao. You didn't have to stand up just to give me this. The container was only a few inches away-" You had your hands stretched out, wanting to grab the bowl with sugar from Ran Mao. But instead she suddenly started pouring at least the half of the sugar into your tea cup. "...from me.", you finished the sentence, staring a bit dumbfounded at what had been once tea. Ran Mao tilted her head confused, not understanding why you looked so taken aback. "No...sugar?", she asked, the sentence sounding somewhat broken. "Too much sugar.", you replied, stirring the viscous and brown mush, out of pure criosity tasting a bit of it before twisting your face. Now it was too sweet, though the strange aftertaste was still dancing faintly on your tongue.

You just put the tea down, deciding to turn your attention back to Lau and Ran Mao, who had by now sat back down on Lau's lap. "Do you want new tea? I prepared a lot more of it. Or do you wish for something else?" You shook slightly your head, not needing more tea. "It's nice of you to ask, but I'll decline. I have everything I need. And I'm sure that you wanted to talk about something with me, didn't you?"

Lau gave you a small and mysterious smile, being satisfied that you had figured that much out. "Ran Mao and me did indeed. We heard from Ciel that now that your job is done in the manor, you were planning on returning home. It saddened us to hear this information. We both became very fond of you these past few months." You scratched the back of your head, a small feeling of sadness and guilt yourself blossoming in your chest. "I'm upset myself, you know? I really started liking my time here, but I can't do nothing about it. I have my own master wating home for me. I was only supposed to work with the young lord until the agreement between the Phantomhive company and my master's company is completely planned and also agreed on from both masters. And now that this happened, I'm finished."

You folded your hands together and stuck them between your knees, staring down at your lap. "My master wants me home fast as well. I need to hurry up, don't have much time." Lau had put by now his cup of tea down as well, looking at you through his closed eyes. You had the feeling that he was observing you a bit. "You don't really seem to like your master. If I remember right, you told me once that you wished he was more like the young Earl." You were a bit surprised that he still could recall this, you had almost forgotten about it by now, most likely because you had mentioned it ore incidentally. "You have quite the good memory. To be honest with you, I really don't like my master that much. He is strict, mean and sometimes just expects too much from his servants. It's tiring and those last few months were such a luxury for me. But tomorrow morning that all will be over." You sounded almost a bit wistfully. Why wouldn’t you? Tomorrow you would be stripped of all the free time you used to have all these last months.

“You could stay here.” You chuckled a bit when hearing this, thinking he was just trying to lift your mood a bit. “I would love to stay, but I don’t want to have my ears pulled by my master for doing this. It would end with me having to scrub a whole room until I’ll feel like my bones won’t be able to support my weight anymore. I had to do it one time, couldn’t move properly for a few weeks without feeling the tightening stiffness. And I had to skip one night of sleep and only was able to be met with my bed the following night since I had to work the day as well. But maybe my lord will let me visit sometimes. It isn’t like I don’t want to never see you again. I’ll definitely write letters though, that much my master will allow me to do.”

“Your master doesn’t sound like he’s a very pleasant person to be around.”, Lau commented, the smile still gracing his features whilst Ran Mao was staring motionlessly at you with her golden eyes. “He isn’t. But he’s the one who pays me and next to that I also have my friends there. I can’t leave them alone with that man or else they’ll totally collapse. I’m the most experienced one in my household. I have no choice, but to go back.”

“Stay.” Hearing that from Ran Mao was a bit heartbreaking, knowing that she didn’t speak much and for her to say such a thing meant that she really wanted you to not go. She still didn’t have much of a facial expression on her face, but she had started leaning forward, her big eyes drilling almost into you. Lau was doing the same thing, only that his eyes were closed. It never ceased to fascinate you how he was able to make a person feel the intensity of his starre whilst his eyelids were closed. You swore that it made you feel slightly dizzy.

“See? Even Ran Mao here wishes you to stay. I’m sure that your master wouldn’t mind too much if you would just resign. I informed myself a bit about him, he seems like the type to just catch a new fish as soon as an old one disappeared.”

“Wait? You informed yourself about my master? Why?” You had started feeling a bit funny by now, trying to stay focused. You didn’t want to worry the two of them.

“Because I was a bit curious when I heard that Ciel would have a new servant coming to join him for a bit of time since the lord himself was bound to bed. He seems like a rather despicable man if you ask me.

“I admit that he isn’t the best lord to have, but I’m still working under him and he is still the man I have to serve and respect every day and who pays me in return. So I can’t complain too much. I doubt I would find that quickly another place to work at, not with him and his vengeful character. Next to that I’m afraid that it’ll affect the contract between the Phantomhive and him. I worked too hard for this to have it break apart because I went missing.” You felt a bit too lightheaded, your mind starting to spin and you were by now sure that this wasn’t from their gazes. Had you perhaps done a mistake tasting the mush made of sugar and the tea?

“I can assure you that he wouldn’t do that. I even had a talk with Ciel about this one time before. Your lord is more of a greedy type and his company was slowly starting to collapse. The collaboration between his and Ciel’s company saved him before any real damage could be caused. He won’t risk losing his support pillar and I doubt he really cares much about his servants.”

“Do you have to say it like this? It-it sounds a bit harsh.”, you slowly mumbled out, a weird feeling having started to spread and fill every pore of your body, giving you the feeling that your whole body had started to relax and feeling more numb. The dizziness had gotten stronger as well, making you grip the fabric of the clothes a bit tighter, narrowing your eyes in hopes of getting rid of the feeling.

“It may sound harsh, but it’s the truth. There are a lot of better people out there with which you could live and who would treat you better.”

“And who would that be? Do you mean the young master Ciel? Do you think he would take me in?” You couldn’t help, but blur those words out, your thoughts having suddenly becoming a bit too twisted for you to make sense of them anymore. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you scolded yourself for having said that, but you seemed to not be able to process anymore what you were saying or doing or what was happening around you anymore.

“The young Ciel certainly seems to be a better master to have. But I was thinking about someone else who would love to have you with them and take care of you. You wouldn’t even have to work anymore.” You looked with clouded eyes at them, barely being able to keep them open anymore. You were feeling too drowsy and sitting on a comfy couch made you play with the thought of just laying down and taking a nap. You actually shouldn’t do this, you had to pack your things and head for the next train to travel all the way back, but your normally so dutiful attitude seemed to get drowned by this weird, tingling feeling inside of you. You wondered if you were drunk, but you hadn’t consumed anything that had alcohol in it.

“And who would that be?”, you slurred out, trying to stand up only to collapse right away back into the softer fabric of the couch. Your legs felt weirdly wobbly, but you still tried to somehow manage to stand straight up and walk out of here, your inner clock managing to get your body to move. You had to finish packing your things.

“I was thinking about Ran Mao and me. We both seem to care for you a lot and it was shocking for us to hear that you were leaving so suddenly. We were planning on spending a lot more time with you, weren’t we Ran Mao?”, Lau answered, glancing at Ran Mao who hadn’t stopped looking away from you for once. The girl just nodded, starting to move upon noticing that you had forgotten how to walk. In any other scenario you would have felt ashamed, but currently everything seemed and felt a bit...strange.

“It’s nice from you to say this, but I have to hurry up now. Or else I’ll gonna get in troubles from the stupid old man. Wouldn’t want that. Gotta hurry up an’ catch ma train.” You had somewhat manages to support half of your weight on the couch whilst limping with the rest of your body slowly away from them. “(y/n), I don’t think you should go. You won’t be able to stay conscious for too long and I also don’t think you’ll be able to walk properly.”, Lau called after you, sounding half-amused as well as a bit worried.

“Don’t tell me what I can do and what not. I have to leave now.”, you whined in a childish tone before your knees gave away under you. But before you could make contact with the ground, Ran Mao was quick to catch you, her eyes glancing slightly concerned over you before turning to Lau, who had started walking over to you. “You don’t have to worry Ran Mao. They’ll be fine. The medicine I gave them shouldn’t cause them any feelings of nausea or headaches. Only dizziness and the feeling of being a bit high. They should fall asleep any moment now.”

“Medicine? Which medicine?”, you asked, hanging in Ran Mao’s arms like a sleepy little kitten. “The one I put in your tea, dear. It’s the reason your tea tasted so bitter before. You won’t leave London after all. Or us. It is funny that you think you can actually leave us.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind you started panicking when you heard him saying these things. He had drugged you! You had to run! But your mind was too foggy to let this information sink in by now and you also felt too tired to care. Ran Mao had additionally to that started to caress your head, the small soothing gesture only making your eyes feel even more heavy.

“How are you feeling?” You barely heard Lau asking you this question. “Tired.”, you mumbled out, having by now totally loosened up in Ran Mao’s hold, who was still holding you. “Then sleep. We’ve already prepared a room for you to stay in.”

You felt his gentle fingers brushing along your jawline and you unconsciously even leaned a bit closer to him, liking the feeling of it.

“Don’t worry, Ran Mao and me will take great care of you. You won’t have to work anymore, won’t have to endure anyone bossing you around anymore or about earning money. We’ll take care of anything for you. Right, Ran Mao?” She seemed to press you closer against her chest, but you were only one point of a knife away from falling asleep so you might as well have mistaken this. But you still heard her muttering her answer out. “Yes.” That was the last thing you heard before you just finally allowed yourself to slide away in your temporary dreamland, though somewhere in the back of your mind you knew you would wake up to discover a bad surprise.

[alldayangst]

gold rush (Tom Holland)

All of my fics are LGBT and PoC friendly. Inspired by gold rush by Taylor Swift. Everybody wants Tom, but you don’t like a gold rush. WC: 2.7K words. 

“Y/N, I just wanted to say again, thank you for coming in today and doing this for us.” Tom’s dad, Dominic, said as he displaced papers across desks, earl grey swaying like an angry lake in his mug. Approaching footsteps hinted that the star of the show was soon to be hold. In other words, Tom was running behind.

The door creaked and light from the corridor crept through like Sun peeping through curtains of the Night. It refusing to shut after Tom budged and pushed was maybe divine punishment for him being so late, and maybe provided the bit of laughter you needed after rolling out of bed at 6am for this, for him. When the door eventually did close, Tom turned around and saw you in all your glory; much taller than he remembered, more assured than he’d imagined, and more gorgeous than drowned out and half forgotten memories of you could ever fabricate.

You and Tom ran in the same social circles, but hadn’t seen each other since Tom’s career imploded when you were both nineteen. As much as Tom felt he owed his heart and soul to the UK, he maintained an almost permanent fixture on the States. It started to feel like his trips back to England were in fact actual holiday. At one point, you were in love with Tom, but meeting became a constant battle of ‘here, not there’ and your heart grew tired of the duck and goose chase. The gravity of the situation was too much for you, whom hadn’t even tasted their twenties yet. 

“Y/N!” Tom launched at you and held you in tight embrace. You let go of the hug, but he didn’t. And his dad watched on in momentary awe as you wrapped your arms around Tom once again, who breathed in every part of you with unwavering adoration.

“Tom!” You rubbed along his back as he hummed. “When I was told we were gonna have a ghost writer, I had no idea it was gonna be you.”

Tom and his dad (being an author) were collaborating on a book, a million dollar idea that’d been years in the making. Tom had stalled it, his dad told you out of simple insecurity. Now that the world was a stage, he was worried people would criticise his dyslexia with every line he wrote, that every stroke of his pen would reveal him as a rare type of monster that lacked intellect, he pondered that he wasn’t insightful enough in some way. His dad may have written a book about Tom outfaming him, but Tom felt like he’d always live in Dom’s shadow in this respect. Fresh from Oxford with an English Bachelor’s degree, Dom employed you to get grease on the gears to commence writing. Tom had always come out of his shell when you were around.

Your writing session lasted from 8 til noon, when Tom had promo with LadBible or Entertainment Weekly or whoever had bid the highest from his presence that day.

The door swung open and three men in all black and mics saddled around their waists called for and led Tom out of the room.

“Tom, session’s over. We need to get you to your BBC promo in 30 and we’re already running behind schedule.’ One cloaked Tom in a jacket you were sure was more expensive than your own home and another whispered something into a walkie talkie: “Holland is on the move. Check the back entrance is clear.” With that, Tom rose to his feet and left completely opposite of the way you came in. Without a word, no goodbye.

You and Dom left the building together around ten minutes later, where ten men with large cameras stood, lenses focused on you, glaring at you, not sure what to make of you. One of the men screams “Hey! You dating Tom Holland” and after that all you hear is clicks and all you see is bright flashing lights and Dom clenches your hand and leads you to your taxi cab.

The next time you see Tom is sooner than expected. The Hollands were hosting a last minute dinner party and you found yourself sitting opposite Tom, feeling his hard, hot and heavy gaze on you. The tension in the room was so thick not even a chainsaw cut through.

“Next topic,” You picked up a card from the deck and read it aloud. “Politics!” You said devilishly as you sip on what was left of the white wine in your cup, and now that your thought process is blurred; Tom’s longing gaze puts you at dismay.

“Fuck!” Harry exploded, and you hear their mother hiss. “Fuck I hate politics, there’s no making it out alive!” he remarked as he drummed on the table cloth, drunken excitement brewing a new energy in the room.

You go on like this for hours until dinner party is dinner party no more. And while Dom, Nikki and all of Tom’s siblings have chosen to exit stage left, it’s 1am and you and Tom have yet to leave the scene.

Tom sets down your deck of debate cards in favour of a genuine moment.

“What are you doing these days, Y/N?” Tom’s not looking at you, he’s looking at your knee as he rubs circles on it. You want to look down there too, see what he finds so intriguing; but you decide against it in fear you might spontaneously combust. You don’t know if this moment’s supposed to be intimate or innocent and you’re not sure if you want to find out.

So you put up a wall.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Holland.” You say sarcastically. “What have you been doing these days? I haven’t seen you around.” Your eyebrows scrunched up together but you’ve got a big, idiot grin on your face that’s more than telling. Tom giggles at your facetiousness.

Tom scratches his head in mock thought. He never clocks out, always putting on a show. “I don’t know - uh.” You’re laughing before Tom has even told the punchline, ‘cause I guess anything’s funny when it’s said by the one you love.”I’m kind of -” He snatches an old Spiderman comic off the floor. “I’m kinda doing this acting thing at the moment. Playing, y’know, this guy.”

“Well I wish you better luck in the future.” Tom has stopped rubbing circles but instead places his two hands on your knees as you rock back in laughter.

“I’m serious, Y/N. What do you do now?”

“Um.” You suddenly forgot your entire career as Tom, with no shade of subtlety, stares right into your soul. “I got my degree. I write like little stories, y’know? Have you ever heard of folklore?”

Tom shook his head.

“They’re like these little, old beautiful myths. And I write them for a living. And if I’m lucky, they get published in The Times. If I’m even luckier, I get to work with my old best friend - ” You feel your world stop temporarily as you call Tom your ‘best friend’ and you pause for all of 0.3 seconds to register Tom’s reaction but his face doesn’t flinch. “-Writing a book with him and his dad.” And that makes Tom smile. So he doesn’t have to tell you he missed you, you just know.

‘Undivided appearance’ and ‘undivided attention’ don’t necessarily mean the same thing in Hollywood as they do in real life, and you learn that the hard way in your writing session.

Tom may have been sat right next to you, but he was miles away. He was doing press with Cosmo, who hadn’t stopped tagging him with blue hearts on his Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat stories, causing his phone to go off every two seconds. You looked at the phone and then at him who then got the hint and put it on silent. Then there was a knock on the door. Tom rushed to open it, expecting that Dom had sent down a food delivery to egg you on finishing this chapter. You rehashed his childhood like a million times - in fact, you were part of it - so when it came to writing the parts that hurt, where you took a more supporting role in his life, you needed his help. The fact is, the knock at the door had come from one of Tom’s men (Tom liked to call him Man In Black no. 3) who hadn’t said as much as a ‘hi’ before he made his announcement. “Tom, you’re on the line with Cosmo in 10.” The man stepped back and pulled out his walkie talkie, “Holland knows he’s on the line with Cosmo at 10.” And then continued to pace around the hallway.

Cosmo called as he said they would and you almost felt for. second like tom might enjoy an entertainment magazine’s company more than yours. The interviewer made glaring comments and passive flirts at Tom who just blushed and chuckled and sipped his water like the woman on the phone calling him ‘hot’ was just too much to handle. At one point, she says: “What must it be like to grow up that beautiful, Tom? With your hair falling into place like dominoes.” You’re not expecting it when Tom tilts the phone so you’re in view. “Well I’m with the most beautiful being on Earth right now so..” Tom looks at you as if to ask ‘is this okay?” and you know it’s too late for these kind of questions, because that moment is headline fodder, so you smile not to make him feel bad for opening Pandora’s box. But Tom is merciless and likes to rub salt in the wound. “This is Y/N! Y/N’s helping me write the book with my Dad! We go way back.” He covers his mouth as soon as he says it. “Shit! They’re not supposed to know about the book yet.”

This is the moment, you think, where you believe when they say your first love is the one you never let go.

And you can’t think of anything purer than the love you have for him.

Tom thinks being on land is boring. He likes being strung from chords 30 feet in the air, and drowning in despair through scenes of emotional turmoil. You want to tell him you’re an arrow from Cupid’s bow about to reach him, but you couldn’t recover from the splinters if Tom shut you down. After all, Tom was a gold rush. A treasure that everyone had discovered but nobody owned. How precious is a jewel that anybody could take home with them?

Tom had invited you to a visit to Brighton with him, a city near the coast, for some inspiration on writing his section of the book. 

You accepted. And because you did, you found yourself at the beginning of the end, on Tom’s boat in Brighton. “We don’t have to talk about the book right now.” Tom throws a stack of blue tinted paper on the floor. His dyslexia meant that spelling and reading was so much easier when done on blue pages, and you could only guess that was the reason the body of water around you brought him so much peace. So when you saw that something might compromise your best boy’s happiness, you point it out. To give Tom a little bit of time to exit before things got ugly.

“Tom, I see someone in the bushes.”

“Yeah. It’s a pap.” Tom mumbled nonchalantly. 

“They’re here to get pictures of me,” He turned to face you. “and you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, the fans ship us. Think we’d be a good couple after that Cosmo stunt. We would have been a good couple when we were like, 18.” He laughs.

“Huh, yeah.” You look down.

“The best one around.” And you can’t tell if he’s serious.

You rip off one of his blue sheets. “I’m coming. I got hit with inspo.” And you trail to a different section of the boat. A very obvious click of the camera from a shrub nearby coaxes your pen to write without a second thought, How is he so accustomed to this? Fake private moments, protected by sheer glass curtains?

You scrunched your paper, well his paper, into a ball. 

Your mind had turned his life into folklore. You weren’t sure if that was crossing a line, so you just put the ball into your bag and hide it until he hits you with the spark again.

“Let me see it.” Tom says.

“No.”

“You ran off to write it and won’t let me see it?” 

You held your bag at your hip in defence. “No, Tom. Drop it.” 

Tom’s face drops a little bit, but then he reaches into his own bag and reveals a deck of your debate cards. “I know what will cheer you up, good ol’ Y/N.” He sets a card on the wooden table between you two. 

“Do you believe in a higher power?”

You toyed with the pendant around your neck which revealed your faith. “Do you?”

“I don’t. But I believe in soulmates.”

You look to the left to really ponder on what Tom is saying, and a paparazzis captures another photo of you in the corner of your eye.

“And you don’t think there’s a higher power that manufactures our souls to make our soulmates?”

Tom feigns a scowl. “That’s ridiculous.”

You scoffed. “How very contrarian of you.”

“What the fuck does that mean.”

“It means you contradict yourself, Thomas.” You laugh as he holds his chest in fake hurt.

“Are you implying I’m anything less than perfect?”

“Never.”

Never. Because you didn’t believe that to be true. 

“Good. Cause you’d have to be punished.” Tom picks you up and throws you in the water below before jumping in with you.

On your way home you stop at the yours and Tom’s writing booth, scavenging through your bag to drop off Tom’s notepad, some scrunched up blue and white papers you and Tom thought could still help you write his book. You’d made an addition to your love-hazed scribblings about Tom and reckon you’d die if he found it. You managed to throw the other in the water, excusing yourself with “It’s utterly awful.”, to which you and Tom agreed you wouldn’t throw any more paper in the ocean cause the poor fish already had it hard enough.

You and Tom had a session the next day. Tom was excited for the day, and you could tell because he’d given his phone to one of his big babysitters for the time he had you.

“I think that’s all of yours.” You and Tom made a business out of unscrunching your paper balls to see if they had any useful ideas. You were certain you reached the end of Tom’s. All of his notes had ‘T.H’ written on the back in big and were scribed on blue paper. When it came to your little ‘secret admirer’ notes you weren’t worried - you had an English degree and were quick to think on your feet and was ready to make something up when it came to opening it. 

“No, this one’s mine.” He’s confident, so you let him have it. He goes to pick up your tea and then realises it’s nowhere near warm, and was the one you made for yourself when you crept in yesterday evening. Tom has a smile on his face, and then he doesn’t. Before he goes to read it aloud, his eyes tell you he’s reading it again and again and again. “At dinner parties, I’ll call you out on your contrarian shit, and the coastal towns we wondered round will never see a love as pure as it.”

The look on Tom’s face gives you the splinters. He tries to look at you but you know he can’t. You don’t blame him. You can’t look at him either. “I really thought this was a good friendship.”

You hum and nod your head in agreement, pull your lips into a thin straight line as streaks of tears abandon your eyes. This was worse than Tom rubbing salt in your wounds. He’s rubbing dirt in your painful fucking gashes and you are reminded of why this didn’t work before, why it will never be.

And you wouldn’t dare to dream about him anymore.

Masterlist

Upcoming Works

[blossom-hwa]

inspired by the ocean, shawna, and virginia woolf.

wc: 1.4k ~ sunwoo x gender neutral!reader ~ slice of life!au ~ triggers: none ~ the boyz masterlist ~ hongjoong (ateez) version (NOT PLAGIARIZED)

[ 7:14 pm: oceans burn in your eyes ] There’s a careful line on the beach, drawn by the ocean, that separates soft, shifting powder from an expanse of dark sand, wet from the waves. Sunwoo crosses that divide, mixing pale dust with damp earth, footprints marking his path in sand cool with the water of the previous high tide.

An orange sun sinks on the horizon, casting warm light over the ocean. Where blue and green used to reign supreme, the waters now burn purple and orange and red, reflecting the sky, and Sunwoo marvels at the change in color as he sits on the wet sand. Part of him knows he’ll have to wash his clothes after this, which won’t be fun, but with the sea breeze ruffling his hair and water pooling around his feet, Sunwoo can’t find it in himself to care.

Waves roll around his body, soaking his already damp shorts and a bit of his shirt as well. They tug him forward lightly, almost playfully, water pulling at the fabric of his pants as it swirls the sand and shells around his sitting figure. If the ocean so wanted, it could swallow Sunwoo whole, dragging him into the dark depths until he sank to the bottom, and if it did, honestly, in this moment, he might not even fight. A certain beauty lies in the dangers beneath the water’s surface, in the way its waves can crash and fight, and what could Sunwoo do but accept it if it came? Right now, though, the waves choose to lay that beauty aside in favor of a calmer sparkle, cheerfully splashing Sunwoo’s feet and soaking the hems of his clothes. It almost makes him smile.

Push and pull, thrust and tug. Sunwoo watches the movement of the waves, listens to the music of its rhythm. Some people paint. Others compose. Sunwoo only does the latter, but from his experience, try as he might, he could never capture nature’s raw beauty on canvas or in a melody – some things, he knows, are meant only to be experienced in person, firsthand. The beauty of creation doesn’t lie in copying the natural world. It lies in observation, inspiration, drawing on what the senses collect to make something different. Something new.

Sunwoo pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, temporarily blocking out the world. If he could just find that inspiration right now…

But no. He didn’t come to the water’s edge to make a track or paint a canvas. He didn’t come to stoke the flame that had already burned too bright. He came to escape if only for a moment, to lose himself in the gentle tug of the ocean waves.

It isn’t hard. Sunwoo brings his knees to his chest, feet digging into the sand as he wraps his arms around his legs, chin resting on top. His eyes close against the burning of the sun, against orange that lights the purple ocean aflame, but it’s okay because he can still see the image splashed across the backs of his eyelids, purple fire on sparkling water fueled by the setting sun behind. It makes him feel a little warmer even as the sea wind flutters by his skin, tugging gently at his clothes and hair.

The tug of the breeze, the tug of the sea. The salty wind is pleasant, to be sure, but Sunwoo leans into it less than he leans into the water pooling around his body. They’re different – air is fickle, ever shifting in one direction or the other and sometimes not blowing at all, but while the ocean may not be as dependable as the solid earth, it never ceases its swirls of push and pull, and Sunwoo likes it. Appreciates it. Might surrender himself to it, even, if only he didn’t have so much fire burning within.

Fire or water. Given the choice, Sunwoo would choose the former, always, even if it burned too bright and scorched him, because without the flame that burns in his heart and fuels his existence, he wouldn’t be alive. Someone like Jacob might choose water – his existence is steady and he knows the constant push and pull, knows when to smother and when to step back. Even more than that, he has the teasing playfulness of the little splashes that nip at Sunwoo’s feet. Sunwoo is different, though. He needs the flame, needs the fire, needs the orange sun burning in the distance – the waves are not enough to soothe him fully, after all.

But a fire cannot burn forever. Sometimes it must die down to glowing coals, to ashes that flutter away in the capricious wind. Sunwoo’s eyes stay shut, a fiery sun still painted across the black wall of his vision, but the waves hum and sing in his ears, caressing his skin and patiently dousing the long-burning flame in his heart, bit by bit, until all that remains are embers waiting to be stoked once more, sometime in the future, but not now. Not yet. Not when the ocean has yet to fully soothe the previous burn.

Give it time. Give it time. Sunwoo sighs, relaxation finally settling his shoulders, previously held tight to his ears. Give it time. Give it time.

The ocean will heal you.

Lost in the waves, Sunwoo doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him, the soft pitter patter of bare feet on the sand. Only when he opens his eyes does he even sense the presence for the first time. It’s familiar, familiar in a way that lifts the corners of his lips even when the waves themselves couldn’t manage.

Sunwoo gets the idea that you’ve been standing there a lot longer than he thinks, but somehow, you still know exactly when to speak. He can almost hear the smile in your voice.

“I thought you might be here.”

Sunwoo turns around then, and the sight, even more so than the burning waves, takes his breath away.

You stand not against the sun but in its rays, golden orange light bathing your eyes, your smile, the hand you extend to help him up. It casts a halo around your figure that Sunwoo wishes he could paint, if only he had the ability. He tries to memorize the vision, but even if he could remember every detail perfectly, Sunwoo knows it still wouldn’t be the perfect picture that he sees now, hand held out like an angel to bring him back to earth.

Your fingers wiggle teasingly, one eyebrow rising with the gesture. Sunwoo takes your hand, letting your fluttering fingers pull him up, steady and strong unlike the waves that push and pull, rhythmic but wavering, beautiful but unsure, nothing like the certainty of your hand wrapped around his.

Certainty was what Sunwoo wanted to escape – deadlines for new tracks, commissions for lyrics. The flame of determination had grown too large, scorching his heart, and in the moment, alone, he had no one to ease the burn besides the undulating waves at the beach’s edge.

Now, though, he has your hand, warm against skin cooled by the breeze and wet sand. Your touch doesn’t burn like the sun does, even as you glow in its setting rays – you are warm, yes, but warm in a way that stokes the glowing embers of the fire within, gently fanning the flames until they come alive once more, burning cheerfully with a subtle heat that Sunwoo can handle.

Sunwoo doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand. Your unruffled appearance tells him you weren’t worried, anyway – you knew just where to find him. So he only smiles, squeezing your hand in thanks after you tangle your fingers with his, warmth soaking into every crevice of his skin. “Ready to go home?” you ask.

It isn’t home, the little beachfront inn where you two have stayed for several nights already. Home in the physical sense is far away, back in the city. But Sunwoo doesn’t correct you, because he knows what you mean – that home for you is wherever he is, and home for him is wherever you are.

The ocean is an escape, a pleasant one that douses his fire when it grows too intense, soothing it with its rhythmic crash, the push and pull of its waves. But you are home, where the hearth lies, gentle flames tickling the embers and ashes of Sunwoo’s heart until it is ready to burn again.

Sunwoo’s smile widens as he nods. “Yeah,” he says, lost in the sparkle of your eyes. An ocean dances in them, flames leaping above the water, a mirror of the scene behind him – only more beautiful, because it’s you. “Let’s go home.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 hug for Sunwoo because he deserves all the hugs :D and then maybe punch him in the shoulder bc he’s a shit)

[apexqueenie]

The Blood King (Bakugou x Reader, Medieval AU) Ch 3

Synopsis: In fairytales, princesses like you got to marry handsome princes like your best friend Shoto, but you’re not living a fairytale. You find the harsh realities a punch to the face as you and Sho run away outside palace grounds and into the real world. But the harsh brings out the beautiful, and in your case, it took the form of the scarlet covered barbarian king, whose territory you disturbed.

A/N: AAAAAAAHHHHH, I'm so sorry this took so long! It may have a few mistakes cuz I added on to this after I finished homework sooooooooooo I'm usually half asleep by then. This one is sorta long, so yah, enjoy!

Warnings: Swearing, blood, violence

[Ch1]->[Ch2]->[Ch3]->[Ch4]->[Ch5]->[Ch6]

“SHO!!!” You scream, snapping your torso up from the bed you lay on.

Wait...A bed..?

Your brain just tripped over itself as the memories came flooding back to you. The forest, the attackers, the beast, and then...that man.

You clutched your forehead in pain. Where the hell were you?

You place a hand on the furry and weighted blanket that covers you. It was nice. Quite a bit warmer than the blankets you had at home-

You shook your head. If this is how distracted you get now, you must’ve hit it at some point. You look around the room you were in. It was nice and dimly lit due to closed curtains, but plain. All that filled the space were you, the bed, and a small wooden dresser to your left with a tall cup of water on top.

Water. Sweet, sweet water. You chugged it down, throat parched from the previous events. The cool refreshing liquid woke up some of your senses. Slowly, your grogginess was replaced with the soreness of your muscles. You started to regret sitting up so suddenly. The side you were kicked on started to throb more and more.

You look down at the side in pain, seeing that your blazer and dress were replaced with a simple white wrap skirt secured with a knot around your chest. You felt almost naked, cold too. Never have your arms, chest, and legs been as exposed as they are now. Even your long nightdress had sleeves.

But that wasn’t important. You were in this strange place, Sho is nowhere to be found, and your things are gone. You needed to know more. Now, you may have been overreacting a bit, but what’s the harm in coming prepared? You break the glass you drank from earlier, grabbing the biggest piece and tearing some of the fabric you were wearing to wrap around the shard for a handle. You didn’t know what to expect, but at least you had something to defend yourself with.

You held it in the front as you slowly pushed the creaky door open. You thought you were ready for anything, but you weren’t expecting to be atop a balcony overseeing a complex combination of treehouses, bridges, and grounded buildings all surrounded by stone walls, complete with archers in loose armor patrolling the top. It wasn’t like any of the armor your guards wore though. It consisted of metal, like the knights in your father’s army, but they also wore feathers, leather straps, and colorful face paint. If you had to guess, you were nowhere near your own kingdom. They kept watch of the forest while the rest of the citizens of this odd town bustle happily below. Adults traded and conversed with one another while the children played with balls or kites below. All of them wear similar outfits to yours, comfortable and with a closer connection to nature. Some women wore clay beads around their heads like crowns paired with bright, multi-layered dresses made of choppy fabric. Most men wore loose shirts, some went bare chested, all wore slightly baggy pants, usually with multiple belts. A stark contrast to the puffy floor length dresses and tight pants of your people.

So where exactly were you?

“Do you like the view?” a voice said behind you.

It made you jump, and instinctively, you turn to hold out the makeshift knife you temporarily forgot about. The man you pointed the sharp edge at yelped and held both hands up as he rounded the corner.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have sneaked up on ya.” he smiles sheepishly.

He was a red-headed man with spiky hair, a short vest, bandana, and baggy pants. Similar to the people below. From what you could see, no weapons. Still, you keep the blade pointed at his exposed torso. You’ve never killed anyone before, and the thought scares you, the overwhelming fear of being here in strange clothes scared you even more.

You take a step back, trying to distance yourself from the newcomer. “Who are you?”.

“Eijiro Kirishima, right hand man of King Bakugou. I’m glad to see you awake and well.” he says, not moving from his spot. “We’ve met before, your highness.”

“Huh?” You say, dumbfounded. You’ve never seen this man in your life. You would’ve known if you did, his face is...very memorable.

He pointed to the decently sized scar on his face. It traveled from his right corner of his lip and up to the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t bright red, but it still looked like it had only recently healed. A cut like that would’ve taken at least a week for it to stop being inflamed; you wondered how he’d gotten it or why he was pointing to it.

You shook your head, not understanding.

Kirishima chuckles nervously, “Well uh, it might be hard to explain, but uh first things first, I came here to check on you. How’s that rib feeling?”

“My rib? It...hurts a lot” you admit, lowering the glass shard. ‘Hurt’ was an understatement though, it felt like it was on fire. Your side throbbing painfully with each breath you took. Adrenaline could only mask it for so long.

He nods and slowly approaches you again, hands out where you could see them. “Let’s get you back in bed” he says, gently scooping the glass out of your hand and placing it in his back pocket.

Hesitantly, you complied, weary of the shard being in his possession. At least, he seemed like he didn’t want to kill you. You leaned back into bed, muscles screaming from the short encounter. It’s only now you truly realize the extent of your injuries. You hissed as Kirishima readjusted your pillow as best he could, shaking the bed a bit.

“Now that you’re awake, I’ll let Deku take a look at you. He’s our medicine man, or doctor if you like.” And with that, he walks out, closing the door behind him.

But you couldn’t stay still. Even though your ribs hurt, you couldn’t sit back and wait. If you’re being nursed here, Shoto must be nearby. And besides, they don’t want to hurt you, right? After all, as you hauled yourself up and headed to the door once more, you found it still unlocked. You weren’t their prisoner.

You took a peek around the corner that you saw Kirishima come around last time. It led to a free hanging wooden bridge to another tree. The other side of your cabin led to some steps that took a wide curve around a wooden pillar of some sort, but taking a look upwards only showed you that it wasn’t a pillar at all: It was an absolute unit of a tree. Incredibly thick, and at least 500 feet tall, the tree had stairs carved from all over its sides and bridges split off to smaller trees holding up houses. An even more intricate pattern of pathways sat above your head than what you saw the first time when you looked on the balcony.

You clutched the railings, making your way up the stairs and onto the first platform branching off into other paths. Your “room” was just a simple block, fitted halfway into the trunk of the big tree. Woven branches and leaves make a simple flat roof; not much different from any other building here. Guess you’re just gonna have to find someone who knows this place. Preferably not Kirishima. You had a feeling he’d just bring you back to your room.

You hauled yourself up more stairs, opting to take the paths closer to the tree. Traversing mazes was never your strong suit, and this place could get you lost in a few seconds.

The further you went along the stairs, the harder it was for you to breathe. Your injury was draining your energy fast, making your body feel like a thousand pounds. Maybe going back to bed wasn’t a bad idea at all.

Just as you were about to give up and sit down, you came across a wider bridge, one that was definitely a lot more extravagantly built than the last. Thicker, and with decorative railings. It was built between the tree itself and a large mountaintop so tall, you couldn’t see the top. The bridge extended in a T shape, the horizontal bit from the tree built to the length of one wall of the kingdom to another with stairs down to where the guards patrolled. At the smaller section of the T sat a huge double doorway, carved from the wood of the tree you’ve been climbing around for the past 10 minutes. It depicted battles, warriors wielding swords and fighting alongside winged beasts of enormous size...Dragons. Then it clicked. Kinda. You swung at that large beast before, at its snout right when it was right behind you. And Kirishima had a scar along his mouth and nose...

Kirishima = Dragon?

You shook your head, unable to fully convince yourself. It must be your pain fogging your mind a bit. You guess it was the same reason you were walking through those double doors. Big doors were the norm for you, being a princess after all. In your state of confusion, it’s better to go with more familiarity. You pulled it open with a bit of difficulty and slipped in as the doors slowly closed behind you without a sound. Just as you suspected, it was a grand hall for royalty that was almost as big as your father’s. The room was curved, thanks to the tree’s natural design. Flowered vines decorated the plain walls. An empty throne of wood and bones sat in front of what you thought must be the opening to the other side of the tree. You could see the sunshine bathe the throne in its gentle light.

You straightened your composure subconsciously, as you’ve been taught to in throne rooms like these, and walked to the throne. Bones and wood, delicately intertwined with one another to form a beautiful crest along the top of the backrest and pair of armrests. You dragged your fingers along the sanded wood gingerly, admiring the craftsmanship. Swords were stabbed in between, like trophies. Some chipped, others completely broken in half. All went through obvious signs of battle. Losing battles, that is. This was a throne for a King that should be feared. Unlike your father and birth giver’s thrones, which symbolized elegance and formality, this one was fierce, powerful, and dangerous. For some reason, your mind was reminded of the man with the Vermillion eyes. How he strode proudly with bold movements, the same way you’ve seen your father or King Enji act when confronted. Was he the one who owned this throne?

A few feet behind it were steps leading up to a large balcony, open to give an extraordinary view of the kingdom you saw before. You walked up the steps slowly, entranced by the calm sight of the sky and trees. A warm breeze lifted the stray hairs from your face, and you felt calm, your injuries temporarily forgotten. You thought you saw everything from the height you were at when you first woke up, well, you were a couple hundred feet higher now and so much more had been revealed. You could see the exact boundary of walls that protected the civilians, previously hidden by other trees. A huge, open gate on the other side of the kingdom guarded by tiny soldiers both on ground and up on the wall. The complex bridges you saw earlier seemed to build around this area so as to not obstruct the view. You dared not to go straight to the railings though, it felt out of place for you to be watching over someone else’s civilians. So just at the top of the stairs you stayed.

Along the sides of the extended walls where the stairs were built, hung swords of all shapes and sizes, snugly staggered amongst each other like decorations. Each one told a story, from the blade type down to the hilt decorations. You wonder who wielded each magnificent weapon. The man you fought had a sword worn down from no doubt years of battle, more so than any of these blades on the wall.

“I wonder where he is.” you spoke out loud.

“Where who is?” a gruff voice responded.

You froze in place.

Speak of the devil. There he was. He appeared around the left side of the throne, nonchalantly leaning an elbow above his head on it. He wore the same attire as before, cutlass hanging at his side- only this time, tribal beads and threaded teeth hung around his neck. The sunlight coming from the open spaces behind you revealed his hair to be golden, as well as uncovered the many battle scars that previously blended with his skin underneath the pale moonlight. He made your shrink a bit in his presence.

He cocked his head to one side, lifting an eyebrow at your staring. “Well?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you forced yourself to say something. “Sorry, You, you’re..and then...Uh…” you managed to spit out, ears burning. You couldn’t look at him straight. He only narrowed his eyebrows in response. ‘Great job (y/n), he thinks you’re a moron now.’ you scold yourself.

“Maybe that shitty Deku got it wrong, and you’re the one with the concussion.” he scoffed.

“I have no such thing!” you blurted out. You tried to look him in the eyes again, but the dominance they radiated made you feel like a pup caught disobeying her master. But why? You’re royalty, a future Queen! You shouldn’t let the likes of him intimidate you like this!

So you stood up straight again, taking a deep breath and raising your chin to address the man in front of you properly. Your insides felt like they were being stabbed with a flaming rod, but you refused to succumb to it now. “I lost myself a bit there. I’ve come here for answers.” you say, clasping both hands together. “Where is the leader of this Kingdom?”

Unfazed by your new composure, he stared right back. “You’re lookin at him.”

“And your name?”

“Why does that matter?”

“It matters because I’d like to know to whom I’m speaking with.” you grit your teeth.

“Oh, and what gives you the right, little thief?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not a thief,” you growl, “I’m princess (y/n) of the Northern Kingdom, first and rightful heir to the throne. As a fellow royal, I deserve the right to know who you are.”

At your words, his body went rigid. “You deserve it, huh?” He moved from his spot at the throne, up the stairs towards you and towering over your figure. You shuffled backwards in alarm. “You, a Northern pansy with your tea parties, lazing around in your kingdom, not giving a damn about the ecosystem around you. You call that royalty?” He spat, raising his voice. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, physical heat, fueled by his anger. “Destroying more of my home to make room for your stupid roads. Killing my people’s food for sport and leaving the skinless carcass to rot so you could have your stupid exotic rugs- I’ve seen how much you people take for granted. If it weren’t for the size of your army, I would’ve conquered you assholes by now. Why did I even listen to that damn Kirishima, I should’ve left you and your boyfriend in the forest. At least you’d be useful for once-”

“Wait, I think you’re overreacting here, and he’s not-” you tried to reason, stumbling over your feet. You completely lost your composure now, your heart practically beating out of its chest.

“Or your brother, I don’t give a damn who he is, my people are running out of food because of yours- but I don’t think you ever knew, huh? Probably worried over some bullshit like what you’re gonna wear, or if some other pretty boy prince out there thought you were cute.” He continued. You back found the edge of the railing and you latched your hands onto it. Taking a quick glance backwards, you found the height a little terrifying now.

“Well, I’m over here hunting day and night to find meals and what do I get? Two more mouths to feed. Useless, pathetic weights on my back. If you wanna talk about being my fellow royal-”

“Bakugou, stop!” you hear Kirishima’s voice echo.

Kirishima. Oh thank god Kirishima is here.

The newly identified “Bakugou” snaps his head to the side at the voice. You look around Bakugou’s figure to see the redhead entering through the doorway, a stranger with green hair trailing behind him.

“You need to eat, Kachaan.” the stranger says. “We’re not starving, Denki found a whole new area with more game- but you can’t hunt it if you’re the one hungry.”

“Stop telling me what to do, I’ll eat when the provisions are restocked.” he turned to the side to face the pair and glared.

Kirishima in the meantime had already ran across the hall, climbing the stairs up to you two. “It’s been three days, brother, you’re getting aggressive.”

Bakugou took another glance at your shocked figure, and for a moment, you could see a pang of guilt hit him. But it was fleeting. His face returned to and scowl and he scoffed, fully turning around and heading down the steps past his comrade. “Aggression is what’s kept this kingdom prosperous.”

“Well, yelling at her highness isn’t very prosperous.” he shot back, tracking the blonde with his eyes.

The stranger made his way next to you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. Kirishima acknowledged him and rushed off towards the doors with his leader.

“Well they’re always talking about equality for some goddamn reason, why can’t I yell at them like men?” Bakugou threw his hands up in the air.

“That’s not what they’re talking about…” the other man responded.

Their voices grew distant as they left the hall, leaving you and the kind stranger. With Bakugou gone, you released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and fell to your knees, groaning.

So, that was Bakugou. You didn’t wanna think about what could’ve happened if Kirishima hadn’t stopped him.

“Woah, hey, uh, we should get you back to your room.” he says, cradling your shoulders. “I’m Izuku Midoriya by the way, but you can call me Deku.”

“(Y/n)” you strained. “Nice to... nice to meet you Deku, but I can’t go back yet. I have to make sure Sho is ok…”

Deku brought you back up to your feet, sliding an arm around your waist and a head under your arm. “Sho? Is that your friend?”

“yeah,” you nodded as the two of you began heading to the door yourselves, “my childhood friend. We were...we got lost...”

“Lost? We could send a messenger out to your kingdom and let them know you’re here-” He says.

“No!” You yelled. Deku looked taken aback and gave you a concerned look. A little embarrassed, you cleared your throat. “No. It’s ok, I uh, I’d prefer we don’t make a huge deal about this.”

Deku chuckled, “Oh, of course my lady, but, are you sure you’re ok to go visit him?”

“Please, I was the one who caught him in all of this mess.”

He smiled as he pushed one of the doors open with his foot, and headed down the steps almost as far as where your own room was, only before the last flight of stairs he took a bridge across to another tree where a small cluster of buildings sat. He gently slid out from besides you to open the front door. Sho laid flat on the bed in front, quietly sleeping. He looked much better now. The lump on his face had almost disappeared, wrapped heavily in clean bandages. He was shirtless as well, only more bandages covering his chest and parts of his arm. He had bruises everywhere, but otherwise, he looked taken care of. In addition to the bedside dresser, there was a small wooden table to his right with tools, bandages, and washcloths. He must’ve needed stitches. You teared up at the sight, feeling guilty again for all the trouble you caused.

Deku gently placed a hand on your shoulder again, leading you to a couch on the side of the room. “He’s got a concussion as well as deep cuts here and there, but he’ll make a full recovery in about three weeks. I’m going to have him stay in bed for a week and a half and then go from there.”

“It’s all my fault,” you whispered, voice cracking. At this point, you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.

“What? No, it’s those people in the forest. Wild people. They like to mess with anyone caught out at night. Except for kach- erm, The King. They’re terrified of him.”

You sniffed, “Bakugou, right?”

“Y-yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “we grew up together, so I’m used to calling him Kacchan. It was just a name and uh, oh, and, I’m sorry for the way he acted, he’s been out scouting food for a while, not eating at all. He thinks the forest is slowly going dry. He’s a good person, I promise, he just has a mean face. He must’ve scared you.”

“It’s ok,” you shook your head. “He was...he was right. About my people.” You wiped the tears from your eyes, staring at the wall in front of you. “My father, he likes money and power. He likes seeing happy and rich citizens. I used to think it was because he cared about them when really, it’s so he could show off to other kingdoms. I could hear them sometimes, talking about expanding towards the forest, cutting down more trees for a new library or something. He liked the pelts too, making me little stuffed rabbits when I was younger. I always thought it was ok though, I never knew people lived here. Now I feel awful.”

Deku gave you a kind smile. “Hey, but it wasn’t you, right? That was your dad. Don’t beat yourself up over his decisions.”

“Yeah” you sighed, “I guess.”

Deku’s smile grew bigger, and he pushed himself off the couch. You watched him walk over to the dresser and opened up one of the drawers to pull out a small blanket.

“Here” he said, unfolding the blanket and handing it to you. “I’m gonna go grab the medicinal tea I brought to your room, it’ll help with the pain. Uh, I’m not quite sure, but I think you may have slightly fractured a rib, so the best thing we could do is let it heal itself for a week. Who knows, it might just be bruised.”

“Thanks.” you say, laying yourself down on the couch in the meantime. After Deku came back with that tea, you passed out fast.

You had a dream. Your father was right in front of you, raising his sword above his head. He was scared of something, but you couldn’t tell what. The background was fuzzy, but you could see it was destroyed. You were raising your arms, protecting someone. Everything was in slow motion, fading slowly to white.

You spasmed awake, inhaling sharply. The image faded fast out of your mind. Shoto was snoring lightly on the bed, arm lazily resting atop his stomach. Good. Sighing, you set aside the blanket and walked out the door for some fresh air. The tea helped you a lot, even now. You didn’t even feel any pain. The moon shone brightly again as the breeze cooled your skin, giving you deja vu of the whole fiasco from before. Except this time, this was peaceful. You weren’t lost. No one was chasing you. And most importantly, you and Shoto were safe. Everything was good for now.

A large shadow fluttered in the corner of your eye, causing you to jump a bit. A red dragon with magnificent wings landed in the clearing by the kingdom gates, which were now closed shut. Its rider, the buttholeish King, yelled at the guards. They notched their arrows, shooting into the forest with expertise. A roar of some sort of animal retreated, rustling trees in its wake. Bakugou slid down from its neck to untie the fresh animal carcasses secured on the dragon’s back. Other soldiers came from the buildings to help carry them. Then, as Bakugou hopped to the ground, the dragon began to shrink back into itself. Wings folded into his backside, neck shortening, and body losing its color to turn into...Kirishima. It blew your mind. So you really did hit him hard back there. You had to apologize.

You rushed down the steps to find them, not really thinking about the fact that you had absolutely no idea where you were going. Nor did you really think about your stamina. Five sets of stairs and you were already panting.

As you leaned against the tree, trying to be careful with your breaths. It still didn’t hurt, but damn did you get tired quick. Just as you were turning to tackle another flight, a head of blonde hair appeared from below, scowling.

“Again? What is it with you and not sitting still?” he grumbled. You could hear the fatigue in the way his voice cracked.

You sat up from the tree, surprised that he climbed so fast. “I, er, wanted to apologize to Kirishima for the wound is all.” you rubbed your arm nervously as he stopped in front of you.

He eyes you with skepticism, probably wondering if you were telling the truth or not. “He’s gonna be taking care of the fresh meat for a while, and probably sleep till late afternoon knowing the lazy idiot.” he grumbles.

“Oh.” you say, still kind of embarrassed.

“And besides, he’s fine. He heals like it’s nothing.”

“Because he’s a dragon…?”

“Heh, something like that.”

“Oh.”

You two sit in silence for a moment after that. The awkwardness was almost unbearable.

“This reminds me, Shitty Hair wanted me to do something. Can you walk up the stairs?” he finally asks.

You shrug, “I’ll get up there eventually.” you respond.

“Well, I don’t have time to wait for ‘eventually’” he says, and lifts you up off the ground with both arms. He hugs you close to his bare chest and climbs the stairs with no problem, not even a slight change in breathing.

You help a bit, holding on to his neck for support. “Where-“

“I have to give you your shit back.” He grunts. “You lived so I don’t get to keep your sword.”

“What an awful mouth you have for a king.” You frown.

He smirks in response, “you haven’t seen the half of it, princess.”

Princess. The way he says “princess” sends shivers down your spine. You don’t know why, but you found yourself staring at his features again. Hair shining almost white again, gently waving in the wind. Piercing eyes, sharp jawline, defined collarbones…

“Oi, quit starin.” He interrupts your thoughts.

“Huh? Why...uh, why would I stare at you?” you say, your voice an octave higher.

He chuckles lightly while you try to look everywhere but him. He passes Shoto’s room and instead keeps heading upwards. Past the throne room too, taking a staircase to a room above it. He pushes it open to a gorgeous bedroom. The amount of oil lamps lining the walls could barely light up the entirety of the room. Giant bed with plush pillows along one wall, a balcony on the other side of the room, a door leading to what you think is a bathroom, and lots and lots of “trophies” hanging up on the wall. Helmets, swords, capes, horns, claws- must be from what he killed. One horn spread the length across the wall from his bed, being almost 10 feet long. You’d be terrified to know what creature that belonged to...or, had belonged to. Still, they were oddly beautiful. Clearly, they were a struggle to take down, judging by the damaged sword Bakugou wielded and the slight deformities in the trophies themselves. A crack down the middle of a knight’s helmet. Multiple tears in a blue and white feathered cape. It was almost surreal to you, that a man that could win all these vicious battles can gently place you on the soft cushions of one of the few couches that occupied his room.

Walking to his bed, he picked up an object propped up against the bed frame. He trunks to you, holding it flat against both hands. Your sword!

He unsheathed it, examining the blade in the dim lamplights with approval. “This is made of Awherian metal, better not lose it.” he says, sheathing it and handing it back to you. You take it gingerly, propping it by your feet.

“Awherian?” You repeated.

“Awherians used to be a tribe up in the North before going extinct a long time ago. Legends say they used to battle giants, cuz they ate their dragons...or some bullshit my old hag likes to talk about.” he crosses his arms.

He took notice of you lowering your head, and sighed, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“I uh,” he cleared his throat, “I shouldn’t have said all that. Earlier, I mean. Kirishima was right about being hungry, I don’t usually yell at women. Unless they’re trying to kill me, you know.”

“It’s ok,” you lean back into the couch, “you weren’t wrong. I said this to Deku earlier already: I thought my father was doing the right thing because he, well, he’s my father. If I had known there was a whole civilization here...I just...I hope I can help.”

He looked at you for a few seconds, calculating. Were you genuinely being honest? Maybe, he thought. He has his doubts still.

Bakugou was always weary about newcomers, and didn’t take too kindly to them. The only reason these two were brought in was because Kirishima urged him to. The king refused at first, reasoning that this could’ve been a set-up, that the cult that pranced the outskirts of their territory had a plan to send in spies this way. Of course, Kirishima says that there’s no way they would possibly injure their own like this, leaving them one step away from death, but Bakugou has seen their ways. They would eat each other if they wanted to. Eventually, he gave in on the reasoning that they weren’t the smartest of people. You seemed different. He ordered his closest men, including that shitty Deku to keep an eye on you both.

“Maybe you could. Who fuckin knows” He says, “but not when you can’t even climb fucking stairs without wheezing like a granny.” He says, earning a slightly offended whine from you. He smiles lightly, then points to his bed with a thumb. “Go.”

You look at him, perplexed. “In your bed?”

“No shit, it’s the middle of the night.” He narrows his eyes.

“I’m, b-but we’re not married-“ you stuttered.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, “relax princess, you have it to yourself. I just don’t feel like taking you back down to your room, or to that half n half bastard.”

With a grunt, he picks you up off the couch and onto the bed. The plush blankets swallowing you almost immediately.

“Do you like insulting people?” you ask as he throws the blanket over you.

“I dunno, do you like breathing, or is it just something you do?”

“You’re impossible.” You rolled your eyes. “Where are you going to sleep?”

“The couch.” He replies, undoing the buckles on his cape. “Sleep, we’ll have you properly taken care of tomorrow, starting with a bath.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Hey!” you pouted. A bath sounds wonderful though.

“You were supposed to be in bed all day today, but whatever.” he sighs. He folded his cape neatly and placed it on his bedside dresser, then flopped onto a couch on the far side of the room, facing away from you. Eventually, his muscles relaxed and you could hear soft puffs of breaths as he slept.

It was calming in a way. Every night, even as a small child afraid of the dark spaces in your room, you slept alone. You had to overcome that fear alone, your mother definitely didn’t want you bothering her, and your father was far too tired from dealing with the kingdom all day. But knowing someone else was in the room felt, in an odd way, nice. You drifted off again, but this time, without dreams.

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