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digital-domain · 20 days

Text

Easier

Feitan x Reader // word count 4.3k

If you drink with him tonight, you’ll still be trapped. Things will not get better, and they’ll likely get worse. You know that. But it’s so hard to resist a chance to feel good.

Tags/warnings: dark content, kidnapped reader, noncon (both parties are intoxicated, it’s implied that reader is more so), drinking, coping through drinking, unsexy smut, drunk sex, outdoor sex, reference to previous threats of violence, attempted knifeplay

Feitan has a habit of bringing you things that you do not want. He does not hand them to you - instead, he deposits them on your bed or your floor and then looks at you expectantly, in much the same way that a cat might deposit a dead mouse on your doorstep. It happens often, so when you hear the rattle and click of the lock on your door, you are not surprised to see him enter with something in his hand.

“Here.” He doesn’t make eye-contact - not until he yanks the door shut behind him, forcing it to scrape against the warped wooden frame, and pulls the chain that dangles from the bare, yellowed bulb in the center of the ceiling. Then, he brandishes his offering, raising it up with an awkward jerk of his wrist. “For you.” A bottle of clear liquor, with his knuckles white around its neck, and a single glass tucked under his arm. It’s a regular one, and not a shot glass (not surprising - you’re shocked that he even owns any cups that aren’t made out of plastic), and the bottle is cheap, but neither of those little details are really the problem.

You shift your weight backwards slightly, bracing your hands against your bare mattress. “I don’t want it.”

Feitan crosses the room, somehow managing to avoid a single creak in the rotting floorboards, and sits on the ground directly beside your bed. He looks at the place on the floor beside him, and then stares at you without blinking until you give in, sliding cautiously from your bed and pulling your knees up to your chest as you sit.

You eye the dubious gift with apprehension.

“I didn’t put anything in it.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” you say, before you can really think about your answer.

He tilts his head. “Really?”

“…not just that.”

“Smart.” He nods curtly, as if he expected this response, although his gaze drops for a moment and his hand twitches anxiously at his side. “I show you.” He pours out about a shot. The cowl over his face comes down with a sharp tug, and he wrinkles his nose at the contents of the glass before downing it with a straight face.

You’ve never seen him drink before, or smelled it on his breath, so you are almost inclined to be impressed.

“What else are you worried about?”

His breath usually just smells like he doesn’t own a toothbrush. You pointed this out once, and ended up with a pair of pliers in your mouth. He didn’t actually remove any of your teeth, and the corners of his eyes were creased as his face hovered over yours, like the whole thing was good fun, you teasing him and him paying it back in kind. His breath was fresh the next time you saw him, washed out with a sickly-sweet-something that repulsed you even more than the rot it replaced.

“What else?” he prompts.

“I don’t like your presents.”

He pauses for a moment, as if he finds what you’re saying baffling. “You like this one.”

“No, I don’t.” There are plenty of reasons not to like it. For one, the fact that it is different from all the others. He usually gives you harmless things. Some of them have been truly undesirable, like the half-wilted flower with strangely shaped leaves and an even stranger smell, or the scuffed silver ring for which the previous owner, he assured you, had no further use. Others, you tried to reject only because they came from him, and took advantage of in the moments when you were too tired to care about your pride. Soap of the exact same kind that you used to stock in your home. A soft pair of socks that very nearly matched and were very nearly clean. They were all unsettling in their own way, of course. But this one is different.

Why is it different? You do not like the answer, but it is creeping up on you, getting stronger by the second. If you drink, you will stop thinking, if only for a few hours. You will stop caring about his breath, and picturing his face hovering over you, and wondering when it will stop merely hovering and do the things he wants it to do.

Why is it different? Simple. Because you want it, for once.

He tilts his head. Waiting.

“I don’t like it,” you repeat, all too aware of the way he’s sizing you up, wondering what little movement or twitch of your facial muscles might give you away. “I want it gone.” You are still picturing exactly what those eyes look like when they’re so close that they make yours go blurry and crossed. He didn’t kiss you then - he still hasn’t. But that’s only another thing to fear. It will happen, and everything else along with it. It’s only a matter of time. “Go away.”

“No.” He pushes the glass towards you, and the bottle along with it. He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t leave.

You should pour it down the sink, or throw it out the window. He’d probably let you. He never forces you to accept anything he gives you, although the look of genuine disappointment in his eyes when you refuse is so unsettling that you usually play along. “Why…” You drop your gaze along with the rest of the sentence. It’s obvious, isn’t it?

He shrugs. “Why not?”

You ask yourself the same thing, and come up with a multitude of reasons, and an answer to them all. You are already here, in this room, in this house, with no way out, and nothing to think about except the things he will do, and when. There is no good choice here. And there is an easier one. You bite your tongue, and then your lip, but it does nothing to stop you. “Okay.”

You hold the bottle parallel to the ground, and count one-two-three like someone once told you to do when measuring out a shot, but it’s full and it comes out fast and maybe just maybe you let your handle tilt a little too far in the wrong direction. It doesn’t go down easy, either. You’ve got nothing to follow it with, or to add to cut through the bitter taste. It wouldn’t be hard to stand up and get water, but you don’t feel like moving at the moment. The usual warm, pleasant sensation that you experience when you down the first drink of the night is absent, drowned out by the face staring back at you.

He smiles, and drops his gaze, and his cheeks are flushed, and you don’t know if it’s just from the liquor -

This was a mistake, of course. Of course. You knew that going in. But it’s too late to correct now, and there’s only one way left to go: down, and down, and down. You splash another helping into the glass - one-two-three-four-five - and close your eyes as you choke your way through it.

As soon as you’re done, before you can set the glass down, he takes it out of your hand, fingers brushing cautiously against the back of your hand before easily prying it loose. “I go now.”

You think, for a moment, that he means he’s going to leave, and take his gift along with him (a twinge of disappointment, or maybe something closer to panic, comes along with this, and you hate yourself for it). Instead, he matches the portions you’ve drank with his own. From his face, you would think that it was only water in his cup, although you think you see that faint look of disgust appear once again in the moment before he drinks. When he’s done, he fidgets with the bottle cap, flipping it effortlessly between his fingers. It’s a repetitive motion, one that might be soothing to watch if it wasn’t for the dark stains beneath his nails. He is focused, almost meditative, not even glancing up at you as he toys with the small plastic round, but there is a tension in his shoulders and the way he sits.

You feel it too. It will be a relief, you think, when the waiting is over.

He offers the bottle cap to you. Silently, another little gift in the same night, perfectly centered in his palm. A part of you wants it. But your hands are not elegant - not now, not ever - and you have accepted too much from him already.

Too much, and not enough. You watch him for several more minutes, and will the bottle to remain on the floor, instead of making its way into your hand.

Outside, a slight wind has picked up, the noise dulled by the metal slats fastened across your window. You turn away from Feitan, towards the sound, and slump forward, holding your face in your hands. It’s peaceful, for what feels like a long time. Peaceful enough that you can concentrate on the presence of your body, and the pace of your thoughts, and imagine the alcohol slowly creeping up through your veins and covering up all the things you don’t want to have in your head.

Feitan comes to crouch in the periphery of your vision. You did not hear him move, but that is nothing new. You would not have heard him, you’re sure, even if you had had nothing at all to drink. But now that he is here, you are imagining how you will feel once the warmth has peaked and faded away, and you are still alone with him, and nothing has changed at all. He passes you the bottle, and you drink straight from its mouth, barely registering the taste, too much, too fast. He snatches it back, and matches your swig -

You have an amusing thought that you know he wouldn’t like. It expresses itself on your face before you can snatch it back.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” You arrange your features carefully, and shut your mouth. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t look at you with suspicion, like he normally would. He just shrugs, and follows your gaze to the slit of starlight that pokes out from an unobstructed section of the window. “No moon tonight.”

“I wouldn’t know.” It comes out bitter, and you are only slightly surprised to realize that you no longer care how you sound.

“You know now.” He does something you’ve never seen him do before: takes off the cowl entirely and discards it on the floor. “If I take you outside, will you be happy?”

“No.” Your tongue is starting to feel heavy in your mouth, fuzzy around the edges. “I’ll still hate you.”

“Okay.” He looks away from you, reaches again for the bottle, then seems to think better of it. “We still go.”

“Now?” You don’t think you want to stand up, but you do it anyways, before he can even tell you what to do. You’re proud to note that the movement comes easily to you; if you were asked to walk in a straight line, you think that you could. Maybe you could run, too. Maybe faster than him, in your current states.

“Now.” He stands up beside you, surefooted, and grabs your hand. His fingers do not interlock with yours - instead, he wraps them around the back of your palm, and presses his thumb hard against the other side of it. His grip is stronger than it has any right to be, but it does not hurt.

“Why?”

“Why not?” He actually grins, and it’s so jarring that it brings you back down to earth for a moment. “You won’t run away.”

“You don’t know that.” You can see his teeth. By some miracle, they are white enough, and straight enough, but you are still disgusted by them. “I’ll probably try.”

“Okay.” He tugs you towards the door by your hand. “You try.”

You hesitate for a moment, and he pauses, allowing you to pick up the bottle from the floor. It is still open, but the smell of it has become far less offensive, and you grip it as tightly as he does to your hand. Then, you are out - out of the room, first, then past the staircase that he has not yet forced you to descend, where he comes up at the end of the day or night - past that, and then you are past the front door, and the wind that you listened to for so many minutes is howling in your ear. It occurs to you that you do not even know what the house looks like from the outside, but you do not bother turning around.

“This way.” Trees surround the house on every side, and he takes you into them, guiding you through the most spacious paths between the trunks. “I show you something.”

The last time he showed you something, it was not nice - you think about this, and clutch the bottle tighter to your chest, and try not to picture the bones beneath the skin of your hand, small and coated in blood and easy to break. He has similar bones in his possession, not all of them in one piece, belonging to bodies that were once people, with names he told you he had forgotten.

What are you doing? You tip the mouth of the bottle up to your lips, but he jerks you sharply in a new direction, and you only manage to catch a bit of what sloshes out. You vaguely register, moments later, that there is a clearing in front of you, and that it might be pretty in the daytime, and that there are weed-flowers at your feet, the color of which you cannot make out. More lucidly, you observe that the collar of your shirt is wet, and that Feitan’s grip on your hand is tight enough to hurt after all.

“We sit down now.” He sits, and takes you down with him, and more of the contents of the bottle slips away as you struggle to keep it in your grasp. The grass is wet, too. His face is very close to yours. His head tilts to a bizarre angle, his face seeming to blur in front of you, the curve of his smile higher on one side than the other. He laughs - it’s a raspy, quiet sound that is completely unfamiliar to you. Unfamiliar to him, too, you think. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” you say, although you do not know if it is true (it probably is - you don’t think he would laugh otherwise). The amusing thought comes back, and this time, you do not filter it away from your mouth. “You shouldn’t have drank as much as I did. We’re not the same size.”

“We’re not.” He blinks unnaturally slowly - or maybe he’s consciously closing his eyes, or maybe it’s just that everything seems a little slower, even the wind yanking his hair away from his face. “Closer sitting down.”

You snort. “Barely.”

“Then lie down.”

You realize that you have been wanting to laugh for a long time, and you do it wildly and bitterly, a grinning scream that you cut short with another swig of the thing which is starting to taste more like water than anything else. “I’m not stupid.”

“No.” He sways forward and puts his hand over yours, and you - after a moment, a stupid, stupid moment - snatch it away.

“‘m not stupid, and I hate you.” Your head feels light and heavy at the same time, scared and free, and neither feeling really matters, and you don’t want to think about it.

“I know.” He looks disappointed, you think, although he might just be tired. How late is it? Late enough that before he arrived - how long ago? - you were scared of falling asleep - you have bad dreams, every night - but you feel okay now -

“Why’d you bring me here?” Your words are not coming out the way you want them to. You don’t mean this clearing - you mean here, with him, forever, or however long he wants you -

“I wanted to.” He gets what you mean, you think. “Might change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“I know.” He slips his hand into his pocket, and fidgets with something inside, and you do not think to wonder what it is.

“You should let me go.”

“No.”

“I should run away.” You laugh, because the idea of running right now is ridiculous, just like every other idea that passes through your head. All of this is awful, and stupid. Better to be stupid. “That way.” You raise your hand, and point to a place where the trees are less dense, where you think you could run without falling, if you really tried. “I’ll live in the woods. Hunt squirrels.” Oh, how nice it would be right now to talk to someone who wasn’t him. But it is good not to be alone. You think you would cry if you were alone. “You’d never find me.”

He coughs out another rusty laugh (but it’s mean this time, or it feels mean, anyways) and sticks his hand into his pocket. “Then go.” His eyes narrow, and he does not look disappointed anymore, but you’re not really thinking about how he feels to begin with. “I give you ten seconds.”

“Really?” You swing backwards where you sit, then straighten, then shake your head. Make it clear. Do you bring the bottle with you? It will slow you down, but you want it. If you do not have it (oh, god) you will have to wake up and think about all of this, and you don’t want that. It scares you. You can’t.

“Ten.”

You blink. “Now?”

He nods. “Nine.”

“Fuck.” You rise clumsily to your feet, stumble on your first step, and take off straight ahead, with what’s left of your liquor held tight to your chest. The trees are dense, your footing unstable, and suddenly you are going sideways when you mean to go straight - a branch scratches your face, and you grab it, as if to tear it straight off the tree. What number is he on? He was not talking loudly, and you cannot hear it except in your own head, where you are trying to keep track. Three, two?

You hear the crackle of dead leaves somewhere close. Closer. Then his hand is on yours, and you have fallen, and you have no idea which one of these things happened first, and your hands are empty, and the ground is wet on your back. You open your mouth. At the same moment, you feel something hard and sharp against your neck, but you don’t register that in time to stop yourself from speaking - or attempting to. You don’t know what you’re trying to say.

“You stop talking now.” The blade that appeared from nowhere (his pocket?) presses down, just shy of breaking the skin, and does not move for what feels like a very long time. But time is strange at the moment. You are not as scared as you are confused. You do not talk, and he takes it away, and it is such a relief that you do not think much about the other things. He is warm on top of you (he is lying on top of you) but not very heavy (but blurry) and his face is close and you can feel his breath on your face and it does not smell bad. Just like yours. The rest of that smell is pouring out on the ground (you heard the bottle crack when you dropped it, you think).

He kisses you before you can laugh about it, or cry about it, and his tongue is strange and slow and thick. Your hands come up, and push, but they fall down before long, and he kisses your neck. Bites. Doesn’t hurt very much at all. Knife catches at the neckline of your shirt, cuts -

Not far. His hand is not steady. Slips. Prick. You don’t think you’re bleeding but you wouldn’t know if you were. Nothing hurts. You think you hear him curse. Heavy metal leaves you and thuds in the pretty wet grass. There’s a strange expression on his face which makes you think that he might be close to laughing or crying too, and you don’t like it. Your shirt is still wet and noticing it again is a relief - you can think about that, and nothing else.

“You want to?” He tugs at the waist of your pants and pulls them down before you really answer. Your legs are apart now, and you do not want it to be him between them, but it feels good to be touched there - there - and you cannot make yourself hate it. You can’t hate anything. You can’t feel much besides him. There is a warm haze, and beneath that, there is shame and fear and loathing that you do not have to feel right now, that would make everything worse if you did feel it.

You do feel it, for a second too long, and your legs slide closer together, but not close enough to make it stop.

“You don’t want to?” His two fingers slide inside you (too easy, easier than it should be) and curl up like they’re trying to push an answer out of you, and your mouth opens and something comes out, but not words. His eyes narrow and he smiles and the darkness or something else makes it all look different than it did before. “I want to.”

Your hips move in the wrong direction, into him, and the thing you should and want to say does not come out, because he makes you feel good when you try. If he was not doing that he would be making you feel scared instead. This is better. This is the best it could ever be.

The smile drops, all at once. “Answer.”

You close your eyes so you don’t have to see it. Now, it doesn’t have to be him. Could be anyone. Could be no one at all. “Feels good,” you mumble.

“Good.”

The hand slips out of you and lands on the side of your face, slick, and you are kissed and you do not kiss back. “Good.” He says it into your mouth between kisses. His other hand is somewhere else. Down. “Good.” You try not to hear it. The wind whips up around you and you listen to that, and feel it hard against your cheek, and him hard against your stomach. Wind scrapes over your skin. He scrapes over your skin. Finds your entrance and holds himself there for too long. “You want to.” Not a question. Maybe he believes it and maybe you do too.

“Mm.” You’ll fall asleep as soon as it is over. It will be easy. Like taking a drink.

His breath shudders as he presses inside you. His whole body goes along with it, tightens against your skin, face shoved into your neck. Your eyes snap open and you fight their lids back down. When you let yourself think about it, the good feeling starts to go away. But it doesn’t hurt. It would’ve hurt, if it happened a different night, when you had to think…

He looks up and you somehow raise your head just enough to see his eyes. Wide. “Talk.”

“Feels good,” you mumble, and it must be enough, because his nails scrape your scalp and snag firmly into your hair and he is going and going but you can barely feel anything at all anymore. You lied, you guess.

It ends quickly. He says something that you can’t hear and then he is out of you and there is wet on your thigh that has nothing to do with the grass. And still, he is not done with you. His weight stays. His arms hook under your shoulders and hold tight.

One final time, you force your mouth and eyes open, because you cannot sleep like this. He’s staring at you, waiting, and you barely recognize his face at all. If you did, you would hate it.

You manage to say it. Exactly what you want to say. “Get off.”

His gaze drops to the grass. It’s quiet, for a long time.

You close your eyes. “Get off.”

“Okay.” His hand flutters against your cheek, and you feel his hot breath over your face, close enough to kiss you one final time.

He doesn’t. His weight lifts, and you can breathe.

And you can sleep.

***

There is a moment when you wake up before you feel any pain. Your head does not hurt, your stomach does not churn, your eyes do not flinch at the sunlight that pokes them through the trees.

But you would take all of those little kinds of suffering over the feeling that overrides them all. It strangles your chest and your throat and keeps you from rising or moving even an inch to look around. You hear his breathing. You hear his body shift in the grass, and know that he knows you are awake.

And yet, he doesn’t say a thing. Not yet. When he does, all the things you half-remember will flood your brain, and you will have no defense, except to hope that he has another bottle stashed away somewhere, and that he will be kind enough to give it to you.

Not yet. You feel the dampness of the shirt on your back, and taste the foulness of your own breath and the rot rising up from your throat, and smell the bitter stench of the night before. And you pretend, for as long as you can, that not yet means never again.

#tw noncon #tw dark content #tw drinking #yandere feitan #yandere feitan x reader #feitan x reader

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buckyalpine · 11 months

Note

Please do a teeny story where buckys kitty is all over a y/n and he is so flustered about it. These pics of my cat who is a Turkish Angora. I like to think he might look a bit like Alpine 😉

I'm here for all the domestic fluff rn. WHAT A CUTE BABY PLSSSS absolutely yes your fur baby looks like such a little angel. That is most certainly Bucky's sweet Alpine.

Bucky finally moved into a new apartment. One with proper heating and lighting. A comfy bed he actually liked to sleep in. Furniture he picked out. It was a simple space but he liked it. He even got a few plants and hung up a few pictures, most of them with Sam and Steve.

His favorite place was surprisingly the kitchen. After years of tasteless mush and not exactly feasting every day back in he 40's, Bucky loves trying experimenting with different recipes and recreating ones he remembered his ma making for him.

Then there was his favorite thing in the whole world. A little white ball of fur that would slink around his legs all day, meowing for pets and cuddles, purring so loudly Bucky was sure the neighbors could hear. He'd never meant to get a cat but all it took was one charity event at a local animal shelter and the rest was history. He couldn't resist those adorable blinking eyes and soft, wispy fur.

"Alp?" Bucky rubbed his eyes, curious as to why there wasn't a fuzzy motor boat purring on his chest while the sun streamed through the curtains. "Where'd you go, baby"

It wasn't rare for Alpine to wake up earlier than Bucky, sauntering around the apartment to lay under a patch of sun. He swung his legs over, making his way to the kitchen to make breakfast for both him and his cat only to find the apartment empty and the cat door swinging.

"I should've never installed that" Bucky groaned to himself, deciding to continue making breakfast in hopes that Alpine would be back shortly whilst also wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to give his cat a sense of independence. Moments later, Bucky heard the swinging of the flap, announcing the arrival of the fur ball.

"Where did you go" Bucky cocked his head, noting the way his cat was smugly licking his lips before jumping onto his cat tree and stretching out for a nap. "For fucks sake, you're worse than Steve, running off God knows where and doing who knows what"

A knock of the door broke Bucky away from the conversation he was having, his eyes growing wide seeing his pretty neighbor on the other side.

"H-hi" Bucky stuttered, smiling down at the PJ's you were still in along with soft bunny slippers on your feet, sleep still evident on your face. Before either of you could speak, Alpine trotted over, walking right past Bucky and straight to you. He stood up on his hind legs with needy meows, batting his eyes as best as he could, something he very clearly learned from his owner.

"Alpine" Bucky hissed, his cheeks growing red while his cat continued to paw at your leg, trying to climb you like a tree, begging to be picked up.

"Is he yours" you giggled, picking up the fussy cat in your arms, letting him adjust himself until he was comfy, his eyes closing for a nap. "He was at my door this morning"

"You can't nap there baby" Bucky sighed, embarrassed over the fact that his cat was rubbing himself all over you plus he'd clearly just revealed Alpine wore the pants in the relationship. "Yeah, he's mine. I'm so sorry, he's usually not like that, he usually runs away from people-

"It's okay" you cooed at the content cat in your arms, giving him another snuggle before turning to Bucky again. Something silver in your hand caught his eyes, running and hand over his face when he realized what you were holding.

His cat was a menace.

"He left this at my place while coming for a visit. Thought I should bring it back to its rightful owner, Sargent" You said shyly, handing over Bucky's dogtags, your breath hitching as your fingers brushed over his metal hand, placing them in his palm.

"Supposed I should give this back to you as well" you handed over Alpine, torn between wanting to cuddle the fur baby more and also feeling jealous of how comfy he must've felt in his daddy's thick arms, resting against his strong chest-

Get a hold of yourself.

"Thank you, doll" The pet name slipped out on is own making both of you giddy again. "I-I was just about to make breakfast, if you want to come over in half an hour" Bucky offered, nervous at how your react, butterflies bursting in his tummy when your eyes lit up.

"I'd love that" You gave Alpine one last scratch behind the ears before retracting back to your apartment to get changed while Bucky closed the door behind him.

"I know you want a mommy but you can't just plant yourself into the arms of the first pretty girl you see" Bucky's muffled voice carried through the door making your cheeks heat up, smiling to yourself when Alpine meowed in response.

"I know you have good taste but you know I would've asked her out eventually. You didn't have to drag my dogtags there"

"Meow"

"I'm not scared"

"Meow"

"I'm not!"

"...Meow"

"Fine. But you let me handle this when she comes over"

"Meow"

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highvern · 8 months

Text

Burnt Coffee

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x gn! Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Running a cafe hadn’t been as glamorous as you initially believed. You loved your job; the cozy aroma of the different roasts, the hum of the espresso machine, the foam art you tediously practiced until a cute bear face stared back from the surface of a cappuccino. But any new shop comes with quirks, like the fire alarm that goes off almost every morning. Luckily, the fire station is just across the street and you unknowingly have one of the fireman wrapped around your finger.

Warnings: coffee shop owner reader, firefighter Hoshi, pockets of angst, crying, lots of mentions of food and coffee, firefighter jihoon and his baker gf, crying, kissing

Length: ~4.6k

Note: second valentine's fic! surprise! written for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub. Happy Valentine's @idyllic-ghost / @bee-buzzez !!! i hope its the cafe au of your dreams

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

“I’ve got an iced dirty chai with oat milk at the end of the bar!”

A sour-faced woman scoffs, “That isn’t what I ordered.”

“Well, is your name Samantha?”

“No.”

“Then it isn’t your order.”

The exchange between Seungkwan and the woman rings familiar. Sundays bring out the best in everyone it seems. But you're too busy handling the never ending line of drink tickets to scold him for poor customer service. Focusing on the machine, you pull shot after shot; inadvertently covering yourself in errant splashes of milk and coffee. The rush of the morning is still going strong but you hone into the rhythm and let your mind fall away from anything beyond the cups resting atop the counter next to you.

But as always, the steam from the milk frother continues to heat the space above; right where the over sensitive fire alarm was installed.

The shrill blaring freezes everyone in place. A few children scream in shock, making the vein on your temple throb. Your ears ring with each pulse as your head falls into your hands.

Every single morning since you opened Fika two months ago the alarm went off without fail.

And then he would show up like clockwork.

The bell attached to the wooden door chimes as Soonyoung breaks through the threshold of the cafe. Grimaced faces greet him. The shrill fire alarm with flash lights blares into the industrial space, bouncing off the walls to echo inanely.

“Earlier than usual.” Soonyoung chirps as he saunters past the line, easily rounding the bar to access the screeching piece of junk inconveniently placed above the espresso machine.

You step out of the way, face flat and mouth tense. “Busy day.” You explain.

The alarm cuts off as swift as it started, Soonyoung stepping back to smile down at you.

“I can hang around in case. Seems like that line isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want something to drink?” You offer stepping back to the line of cups littering the metal counter.

“Ooo, buying me drinks already? Aren’t you presumptuous?”

The wiggle of his eyebrows is meant to be suggestive but they only make him look like he ate a mouthful of sour candy.

“Nevermind.” You huff, stepping around the man as you grab the next cup in line and start working. “Go save a cat in a tree or something.”

Sensing your waning mood, Soonyoung cuts the act. “I’ll just have my regular.”

“You know where the cups are.”

A full cup of brewed coffee joins him on the opposite side of the counter. Soonyoung plants himself in his usual chair, chin resting on his curled fist as he watches you work your magic.

On slow days he’ll chat your ear off until the fire station calls him back. But on days like today, he’s content to in silence; obsessed with the sureness of your hands, the strong pout of your lips, and the way everything seems pulled into your gravity.

Maybe he has a crush on you.

Scratch that; Soonyoung definitely has a crush on you.

And everyone knows. His supervisor, Jihoon, knows. It’s why Soonyoung is always the one to come and fix the faulty alarm in the shop. His best friend, Seokmin, knows. It’s why Seokmin and his fiancee constantly batter him with texts about when he’ll ask you on a date. If someone went to space and looked down they could see how much he likes you without even trying.

You hit a lull and Soonyoung takes his chance. “Got any special plans this week?”

“We’re doing themed baked goods on Wednesday.” You call over your shoulder.

It’s not what Soonyoung was asking about but he takes it in stride.

Your employees also know about the fireman’s feelings. It’s why Seungkwan throws a pitying look his way along with a deformed muffin. Subtle rejection tastes like blueberries and brown sugar.

“Will you save me one?” Soonyoung asks.

“Is free coffee not enough?”

“Who said I wouldn’t pay for it?”

You never let Soonyoung pay for anything at the cafe. Despite how much he enjoys free food, it always makes him feel a bit guilty. It’s why you think he only drinks black coffee with a lethal amount of sugar when in reality he’d take some fancy espresso drink any day.

You laugh as you continue to work through the next batch of orders. “We’ll see if there are any left.”

“I’m a civil servant!”

“Serve in silence please!” Seungkwan barks, earning a few chuckles from the other customers sitting at the bar.

The back and forth continues and eventually the line dwindles to nothing as the morning lulls on. Soonyoung downs two more cups and manages to haggle Seungkwan for an overly toasted slice of banana bread with a singed corner he planned to throw out anyway.

The entire time Soonyoung watches you. Even covered in splashes of milk and coffee stains, he’s still enamored with you as you lean over the bar and jot notes in the ever expanding list of repairs and updates the shop needs.

And just when Soonyoung opens his mouth to say something, anything, the shrill beep of his phone cuts him off.

“Damn, I gotta head back.” He curses. “Just call if you need me again, okay?”

“Will do.”

You don’t even look up as he walks towards the door.

“Satan is one the phone for you.”

“Please be less specific.” You beg Seungkwan, grabbing the receiver still on hold.

“Bakery lady.”

Steeling yourself, you unmute the phone and bring it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“I was reviewing orders for Valentine’s. You're only doing the usual? I thought we talked about special items. I already bought the ingredients so if you changed your mind it’s putting me out of money.”

“No, we need at least two dozen of the cupcakes and two dozen of the cookies on top of our usual order.”

“That’s not what the order form says!” The old crone hawks through the line.

You ask her for a moment while pulling out your laptop and settling into a seat far away from the clusters of customers still strung throughout the cafe.

Wiping your face, you stare at the illuminated screen of your computer with the order form pulled up. “I have the form on my screen right now and it clearly says—”

“I don’t care what you’re looking at, it’s not what I have on my end!”

“Are you sure you’re looking at the form for Fika on Second street?”

“I’m telling you I’m—oh.”

The deflation in her tone pulls a smirk across your lips. “Hm?”

“Alright so two dozen red velvet cupcakes and two dozen heart sugar cookies?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, I’ll have it on Wednesday.”

“Thanks.”

Click.

The table shakes with the impact of your forehead. The clatter of your mug draws attention from the few customers around but none pay much attention.

“Everything okay?” A voice asks from above.

“Great. Wonderful.” You say into the wood.

“Good. Because the espresso machine is broken…again.”

You rise from your seat, face indecipherable as you walk past the counter, through the back storage area and into the alley behind the building.

Several seconds pass before you release a guttural scream. It's gritty, ripping apart your throat as all bubbling exhaustion breaches your lips. The noise echos between the brick walls before escaping to the sky above. Several pigeons flee to the rooftops for safety while mice and other vermin scuffle along the walls in terror.

Seungkwan watches from the door, eyes wide as you continue to belt for the trash bags and city rats witnessing your meltdown.

Your voice fizzles as you run out of air. Closing your eyes, you take two deep breaths. Inhaling the scent of stale storm water and whatever else perfumes the back alley until the stretch of your lungs burns from the inside out.

And then you turn and walk back inside as if the entire thing never happened.

The block is only illuminated by streetlights at this hour. Not even the earliest of early birds litter the narrow sidewalk as you push into the empty cafe and begin prepping for the Monday morning rush. The smell of fresh coffee fills the air, the whir of the grinder harmonizing with the jazz playlist curling down from the speakers.

The calm before the storm.

Slowly the first shift employees trickle in just before opening; relieving you to commandeer the office slash storage room in the back, intent on knocking out the mountain of paperwork and following up with the repair man about the alarm he said he would be back to fix last week. But first, the phone blinking with unread messages.

“This is Megan. We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s extended warr—”

Message deleted.

The next message is a young man reporting his credit card missing and visiting your shop. You call and let his voicemail know no one has seen anything but you hope he figures it out.

“Hi Y/N. This is Cheryl with Harmony Bakers. Just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to get that special order for Valentine’s Day. Or your regular order for tomorrow. We’ve decided to close up shop. Sorry about the inconvenience.”

The words don’t hit at first. But your brain slowly catches up to what Cheryl is saying. Canceling. She’s canceling two days before Valentine’s.

Your attempts to return her call fall flat. Six tries and all ring once before dropping into an automated message reporting her voicemail is full, no doubt from the other shops she’s also shafted with the impulsive decision.

No holiday treats. No regular food items. No back up. No plan B.

Failure, failure, failu—

The pad of paper littered with notes sails into the not so far wall only to slap against the plaster and slip to the ground.

You can only focus on one problem at a time. Or at least the problem whose solution won’t send you to jail. And that means heading to the front where the day is starting to pick up.

The boys have things under control but the line is lengthening and you’re a great way to relieve the pressure. Immediately an invisible song pulls you into the rhythm of their work; drinks and food hit the end of the bar almost as fast as the orders came in.

Soonyoung comes in and waits at the counter as usual. The alarm seems to be granting mercy given the horrible state of affairs from this morning.

The customers not so much.

“God, how stupid are you that you messed up a simple order? It’s a fucking americano and you made it taste like ass.”

The man standing at the end of the bar, hands flat on the counter in an attempt to physically dominate the space, always complains. His iced drinks are too cold, his hot drinks are too hot, the weather is bad, taxes are too high, the list continues on and on. And somehow it's always your fault.

Usually its little barbs under his breath but today he’s out for blood and you’ve already had enough.

Your teeth grit together so hard it feels like the forced smile plastered on your face might crack them into dusk. “Like I said, I can remake it for you if you’d lik—”

“Why would I want you to remake it? You clearly have no idea what you’re doing. Get someone else.”

“I got it.” Seungcheol steps forward.

The older man gives him an apprehensive look. Seungcheol is harmless but he knows how to be scary when he wants to be.

“I’m gonna go…restock something…” you warble, all but sprinting to the back.

Plastic sleeves of cups and boxes of straws bear witness to your breakdown. The six am tantrum clouds in and your carefully built dam of control explodes. Hot tears streak your cheeks, dripping off the jut of your chin with every gasping breath from the knot in your throat tangling tighter and tighter. All you can hear are ugly gasping breaths as you rock back and forth in the dark.

The sliver of light spilling in from the cracked door doesn’t register given the way your face is buried in your hands. Soonyoung has half a mind to pretend he never entered the cramped space. He’s never seen you so… small.

A shrill squeak of the hinge alert you to the new presence. Bloodshot eyes find his wide ones and you swipe at your face to hide the evidence of your distress. You go to speak but barely manage a croak before the tears come again.

“Shit,” Soonyoung whispers. “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

The warmth of his chest makes you cry harder, tears spilling onto his neck as you hide from the world. He smooths the flat of his palm across your back.

It's anyone’s guess how long you stay there. Soonyoung’s cheek rests on the top of your head, arms firm around your shoulders. The faint smell of smoke tickles your nose. Smoke and pine from his cologne. It tethers your mind, lulling the frantic breakdown and giving you something to focus on other than how horrible the day has become in the span of a few hours.

No baked goods. Horrible customers. And now you’re being held by the handsome fighter from next door with snot dripping from your nose.

Soonyoung hesitates when you shift in his hold, arms tightening for a second in case another bout of tears crops up. But you pull far enough away to send an embarrassed grimace his way before looking anywhere else.

“Sorry.” You say, turning to snatch napkins from the shelf next to you.

His hand continues to rub your shoulders as you dab your eyes and blow your nose.

“It’s okay. That guy was a jerk.”

“I don’t care what he said.”

Soonyoung stares in disbelief, waiting for you to continue.

“My baker canceled on me, and the espresso machine is held together with duct tape, and there's a million other things going wrong, not to mention the fire alarm. And I just…”

Squeezing your eyes tight to prevent the moisture swelling in the corners proves unhelpful. To Soonyoung’s credit he stays silent, allowing you all the time you need to get your thoughts in order. But the hand on your back continuing to trace abstract shapes between your shoulder blades lets you know he’s there when you’re ready.

“It’s just been a rough week.” You say to the floor.

The admission lifts the ten pound weight off your chest. Soonyoung isn’t an employee you need to guarantee everything is okay to or a customer requiring a mask. He’s a…friend? It feels generous but if he was anything less you doubt he’d be where he is now.

“Is there any way I can help?”

You blow your nose into the tissue before laughing wetly. “I don’t suppose you have a magic wand, do you?”

“Just broke mine actually.” He winces sarcastically.

What’s another thing on your never ending to-do list? Along with the desperate need to buy more supplies for tomorrow, how difficult can it be to conjure artisan baked goods out of thin air?

“Actually,” Soonyoung perks. “Jihoon’s girlfriend works at a bakery. Pete’s? No, wait. Penny’s?”

“Petunia’s?”

“That’s the one! Maybe I can ask her if she can help?”

“Good luck.” You snort. “They couldn’t even fit me into their normal rotation.”

“We won’t know until we ask!” He chips, thrilled he can help.

Soonyoung jumps up, a cruel chill invading the space he once occupied. Like the sun moving behind a cloud and leaving you at the mercy of a cool breeze; there and gone before you can delve into what it means.

You hand him the order form you usually give your baker to relay to Jihoon’s girlfriend. While he steps out to ask for a miracle you focus on tallying how many cups, napkins, lids, and other miscellaneous items you need from the supply store across town. A few lone tears appear, falling without much preamble but the worst is out and stained on Soonyoung’s shoulder. You’ll get through it. With Soonyoung’s help you’ll get past everything, even if his efforts fall flat.

Seungcheol and Seungkwan confirm they’ve got things under control as you take your leave. Soonyoung is just visible in the dissipating morning fog hanging in the street. He paces the sidewalk, speaking into his phone animatedly before spotting you trying to sneak past him to your car.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” He cheers before hanging up and pocketing his phone.

“So?”

“They’ll do it! One of the other shops dropped out last minute and they have a lot of extras. Maybe not all the usual stuff but Rita said she can pull together most of the stuff on the form.”

Body frozen, you stare at Soonyoung with an open mouth and eyes wide. There’s no way he solved half your workload with one phone call.

“She also said they can try and work you into their usual orders. If that’s something you’re interested in…” Soonyoung trails off, glancing at you nervously.

In a blink your back in his arms, squeezing him so hard your arms hurt.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” You chant into his chest.

“Of course.”

Stepping back, you blush at your own impulsiveness.

“Um, well…” you fumble, clearing your throat you get back to the task at hand. “I need to run to the store so I’ll see you later.”

“I can come!”

“No! I mean, you’ve already helped so much. I’d feel bad dragging you along.”

“Don’t worry about me, I'm just trying to make sure you don’t start crying again and cause an accident.”

“Okay, rude.”

Soonyoung ignores you, already strutting down the street.

“Your cars this way, right?”

“No.”

“Listen, I wanna come with you. I have nothing else to do today.”

“Cool,” You laugh, continuing the opposite direction Soonyoung headed. “but my car is still this way.”

The drive is pleasant. You learn more about Soonyoung in the thirty minutes it takes to get across town than you’ve learned in the weeks he’s been coming to the cafe. He has an older sister, he likes to volunteer at the youth center down the street in his time off, and he cannot work a computer if his life depends on it. You also learn more about his coworker turned best friend who also happens to be the boyfriend of your new god.

“Yeah Jihoon and I started the same day. He comes off kinda cold but it's all an act.”

“Oh, really?” You laugh, pulling into a cramped parking spot.

“One hundred percent. You should see him with Rita. I never saw him blush that much until they started dating.”

“How’d they meet?”

“Funny story.” Soonyoung shares, climbing out of the passenger seat. “So the bakery she worked at before had a fire. No one was hurt and they put it out before we even got there! But we went to make sure everything was clear. Well, Rita was there and I swear it was love at first sight for him.”

“That’s sweet.”

You both make your way inside the sliding doors; Soonyoung pushing a flat cart behind you through the aisles.

“He’s definitely mellowed out since he met her. Doesn’t work as much, thank god.”

“What about your girlfriend? Do you guys have the same Hallmark meet cute?”

“Oh! I don’t have a girlfriend.” Soonyoung mumbles, ears turning scarlett.

Your face heats as well. Whatever force compelled you to ask such a prying question revels in satisfaction to hear Soonyoung is in fact single. A tidbit of information you’ve never wondered about before.

“Sorry I couldn’t get you anything for today.” Rita says as she helps unpack everything onto the counter.

The cafe is scarce of customers, far past closing time but Rita said they’d be too busy delivering to their other customers in the morning to spare a trip to you. What's another Tuesday at the shop? It isn't like you have time for much of a social life given the million things you need to do.

“Really don’t worry about it. You're saving my life by getting me this stuff for tomorrow.”

“Well Soonyoung made a bargain I couldn’t refuse.”

You pause for a moment. Soonyoung didn't mention anything beyond the payment Rita quoted and later sent via email. Did he promise something from the shop on your behalf?

Swallowing the budding annoyance, you continue to work like nothing is wrong. “Oh?”

“I mean an entire month of covering Jihoon’s shifts? What kind of person passes that up?”

What?

Soonyoung offered to sacrifice all his free time to help you. Soonyoung who you barely know beyond the fact that he pretends to like black coffee. The man chews with his mouth open. Soonyoung who let you ruin his sweater with tears and snot from a horrible day.

“You didn’t know?” Rita asks, face full of mirth.

“Ugh, no,” you cough. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“I was shocked when he offered. He wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”

But he did it for you.

“Yeah.”

“Y/N?”

You find Rita smiling like she knows some big secret. If you had to guess, it's probably the same thing you're realizing now.

“Soonyoung’s a great guy.”

Words fail you because you know Soonyoung is a great guy. He held you when you cried, he comes in everyday without fail to turn off the alarm, and he just sacrificed a month of his life because it would help you.

Once you and Rita unpack the remaining cookies and cakes, she takes her leave but not before dropping another wink when she spots Soonyoung approaching from the direction of the fire house.

“Rita.” he greets at the door, holding it open for her exit.

“Hosh.”

And she’s gone without another word.

“How’s it going?” Soonyoung asks, rounding the counter to join you.

“Great!” You blurt with too much enthusiasm. “Rita ended up making everything we needed.”

A second set of hands assists in packing the glass display case in preparation for tomorrow's chaos. Soonyoung listens well. Patient to a T as you direct him to tweak things just so from the opposite side of the bar.

“Thank you for all your help this week. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here to help.”

He continues to unpack the few remaining goods beneath the counter as he responds. “It’s not a big deal. What are friends for?”

“Hmm and you agree to cover all of Jihoon’s shifts for your friends?”

Leaning back against the opposite counter, you watch Soonyoung’s shoulder tense and his ears erupt into bright red. He’s so still he doesn’t even seem to be breathing at the shock of being caught. Each passing second heightens the smirk curling your lips.

“Oh, you heard about that?” He asks into the counter.

You saddle up beside him, dropping your head until his eyes meet your own. Each inch of space you claim next to him sends him away like an opposing magnet; until your sandwich between him and the hardwood.

“Yeah, I heard.”

Soonyoung backs away nervously but not before you catch the way his eyes cut to your mouth. Who knew all it took is a smile and batting your eyelashes to make chatty Soonyoung clam up? The shyness bubbling on the edge of your conscious fizzles with the new knowledge; instead, curiosity takes its place. How much more can you make him blush? What would he do if you grabbed his hand? Or if you took a chance and kissed him?

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a crush on me?” You smile around each word.

He opens his mouth to argue but it's moot with the way you gaze at him, eyes shining with mirth. Like you're laughing at some shared joke. Soonyoung will tell you whatever truths you want to hear if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that.

“Yeah.” Soonyoung whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear him.

“Good.”

You step into his space with finality, chests brushing with each breath.

“Good?”

The edge of your teeth pinning your lip down is the only thing preventing a smile from ripping across your face as you answer. “Because I have a crush on you too.”

“Oh…” He nods, head dropping dejectedly and then it hits him and whips back up so fast his eyeballs rattle. “OH. You do?”

He watches you nod, slowly angling himself to connect your lips. When Soonyoung realizes you aren’t going to push him away, evident by the hand fisted in his sweater, he goes for it.

The curve of your lip, the breathy sigh you release into his mouth, the way you seem to go boneless with each pass are all committed to his memory. Soonyoung reminds himself to be good. That this is the first time he’s kissing you and he should be a gentleman; gentle, chaste, respectful.

And he would succeed but you’re acting like you have no interest in any of those things. You whisper another heavenly sigh into his mouth, trailing a hand in the short strands of hair at the base of his skull forcing Soonyoung to focus on batting away the demons at the edge of his mind rather than giving into temptation.

But when you tug to angle his head better the delicious sting drowns Soonyoung so quickly he has you pinned to the counter before he realizes what's happening.

Sometime later, when your lips are swollen and the floor sways beneath you from the flood of giddiness coursing through your veins, you and Soonyoung part. The crisp air of the late night tries in vain to nip at your face but you’re too distracted by the calluses on the side of Soonyoung’s thumb and the way they rasp against your knuckles as he walks you to your car.

The cafe is in full swing by the time Soonyoung comes in Wednesday morning.

All morning he paced across the cramped common room of the fire station. Sure you let him kiss you but what did it all mean? He knows you like him but did you like like him or just like him? Should he have asked you on a date? Would that be too forward? Did he mess things up by not immediately asking you out despite the fact he was so love drunk he ran into a pole after watching you drive off?

He fights the idea of running across the street and demanding answers. You’re definitely too busy to spare a second and tame the butterflies in his stomach. And how pathetic would he look if he asked you to explicitly dictate how you feel so no wires end up cross? And on Valentine’s day no less?

Luckily, he’s saved by the bell. Or rather the fire alarm.

He watches you work like a tornado, pausing only to smile at him the same way you did last night when he did not so safe for work things against the very counter lined with coffee cups and steaming mugs. Flashes of memory heat across his face.

You thank him with his usual coffee and one of the cupcakes you set aside just for him. Except this time his paper cup is scribbled with a heart and something else.

Be my Valentine? _Yes _ Also Yes _ YES BUT LOUD

At some point he should tell you about the sensitivity setting on the alarm and how all you need to do is nudge the tiny lever to the right if you don't want it going off every time the steam builds up. But the way you beam at him when he steals the sharpie from behind your ear and checks all three boxes on the cup makes Soonyoung decide it’s a secret he’ll keep for now.

@cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @tomodachiii @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @gyuguys @primoppang @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe

#svthub #svthub.collab #kvanity #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung fluff #hoshi fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #svt x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #svt #svt fluff #seventeen #🫡 highvern

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azullumi · 6 months

Text

premise — you know those beach arc in a 12-episode shoujo anime? make it with the ip3o !!

characters — aventurine, topaz, and ratio

tags — established relationship, fluff, not proofread, 0.6k words ; headcanons

note — just something quick which i wrote in the beach yesterday before my phone wanted to become a fish and dived into the ocean !! probably not that accurate to their character but hey i just wanted to have fun

AVENTURINE who will write your name in the sand, only to have it being washed away by the ocean’s wave the moment he shows it to you. The dejected look on his face as he watches his effort being flattened and smoothened into sand will just make you want to kiss him (he’s just so kissable no matter what he does).

AVENTURINE who will stay up all night listening to the waves and watching stars with you. He’ll set up a small tent for the both of you to stay in as you wait for the sun to set and the sky to cast its dark blanket to reveal the stars that are waiting to be seen. It’s such a pretty sight, something that you will forever engrave in your mind, but he’s there spending most of his time looking at you before the stars; he ended up missing the shooting star that passed by.

AVENTURINE who will collect pretty seashells with you. He’ll look out for them while he’s on his own and will choose the ones he thinks you’ll love—seemingly seeking your approval, he’ll show the shell to you with expectation drawn in each breath. He adores the look on your face when you get so excited over something small and simple.

TOPAZ who will build play in the sand and build sandcastles with you, along with Numby who’ll watch by the sidelines like a curious cat to their busy owner. You two, in collaboration, would either end up with the tallest and most majestic sandcastle ever made or the most horrendous piece ever seen by mankind—there’s no in between. Bonus points if it also gets washed away by the wave.

TOPAZ who will drag you anywhere and everything. She will take you to several and various locations whether it be a hidden spot with a nice view which she found while she was out walking (she’ll steal a kiss from you once knowing that there’s nobody around) or to areas that are bustling with activities that the both of you can participate in.

TOPAZ who’s probably the most active person you’ll see at the beach. One minute she’s playing volleyball, the next she’s out making kites fly, then the next you’ll see her, she’s setting up the bonfire for later night or either talking with the locals. Best believe that she’ll spend her evening just by your side, leaning against your form in silence as she tries to recover her energy—which would probably just lead to her falling asleep beside you.

DR. RATIO who will most likely spend his time sunbathing or staying away from the water—he wouldn’t want his book to get wet, would he? Although he brings his book during his baths, the ocean is quite unpredictable compared to the still waters of his bathtub. Sometimes, the tide would come in slow and gentle like a mother’s lullaby but it would be followed by a body-slapping wave that would drag you away from the shore.

DR. RATIO who will wake you up early just for the sunrise because he learned that the view would be a lovely sight—also, because he thinks you might like it. He’ll gently guide you through the sand as you force your eyes open, drowsiness still in your gaze and the way you slowly walk to not stumble in your steps; he’ll hold your hand the whole time and you’ll watch the sunrise with him in silence of the cold morning.

DR. RATIO who will look after you and watch you always. He wouldn’t let the opportunity to say something (scold you or tell you off) pass by, however. Most likely would pull something like, “You’re cold, aren’t you? If so, that’s your own problem.” then would proceed to place a jacket or towel over your shoulder.

#aventurine honkai star rail #topaz honkai star rail #ratio honkai star rail #honkai x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai fluff #honkai imagines #honkai #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #hsr aventurine #hsr topaz #hsr ratio #aventurine x reader #topaz x reader #ratio x reader #azul.writes

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cuubism · 1 year

Text

At first Hob isn't even sure the shop is open. The tiny door inset above a few steps, the utter lack of welcoming signage, the windows packed with unlabelled stacks of books--it doesn't exactly scream come in and buy something. As Hob steps up to the door, he really expects it to be locked, or for a sign to fall from the ceiling reading, abandon all hope here, mortal.

But the door to the bookshop--the name of which he's yet to determine, again with the utter lack of signage thing--just swings open at his touch, and he steps into a narrow hallway made entirely of--of course!--books.

Dust rises from the rug as he carefully makes his way deeper into the meandering corridors. The lightbulbs overhead are dim and in desperate need of replacement. The stacks are teetering and untouched. If he learned the place had been sitting here on this winding side street, exactly the same, for the past seven hundred years, he wouldn't be at all surprised.

And now Hob's marring its mysterious mausoleum aura by opening a jaunty modern coffee shop across the street.

Whoops.

Hence why he's bringing a peace offering before he accidentally starts a war over noise or crowds or god knows what else. Most places would probably be happy about increased foot traffic, but that's not the sense he's getting here.

This is all, of course, assuming he does find an owner, and not just a skeleton manning a till somewhere in this place long gone dark.

Hob doesn't find any customers. He does find several interesting-looking side hallways labelled things like, ~ the occult ~ , Oneiromancy, and "falconry -- advanced" and has to drag himself back into focus because the only thing worse than starting a turf war with a mysterious bookstore owner on his cafe's opening day is accidentally spilling the coffee he's brought--as a peace offering!--all over some ancient magical text.

"Hello?" he calls, finally giving up on the creeping about. "Anyone there?"

No answer. All Hob finds is a rickety set of stairs leading up the next level. So he ascends.

At the top is an even more cluttered room of books. This time in disorganized, unlabelled stacks on every surface. Waiting to be shelved, maybe? And in the center of it all, sitting cross-legged on the floor with several of these books spread out in a confusing array before him, is who Hob can only presume to be the owner.

An owner who is not dead, nor ancient and decrepit as Hob had kind of been picturing. Definitely not decrepit at all. Oohhhh dear.

The lithe, dark-haired, fey thing that is the owner tapes a note inside another book and says, in a distracted tone, "Can I help you?"

"Uh," says Hob, because he came here on a mission but he's gotten really turned around, "do you drink coffee?"

This gets him a raised eyebrow, but the shop owner does turn to look at him, staring up from his position on the floor. Christ he's pretty, spectacles and all. If there is a battle over street noise levels, Hob's going to lose by dint of caving automatically to those eyes. Pathetic.

The bookstore owner looks at the coffee in Hob's hand, then back at Hob's face. "Why?"

Hob thrusts the cup in his direction. "Here."

The owner looks alarmed now, but takes the cup, gingerly, peering at it as if he thinks Hob might have given him pureed nightshade instead. "Why?" he repeats, and then, because apparently his level of self-preservation doesn't extend to things like not drinking random shit thrust at him by strangers, takes a sip, and hums in appreciation.

"I-- fuck, sorry--" Hob sits down on the floor, which only makes him look more like a maniac to be honest-- "I just-- I just opened across the street? The cafe? So I just wanted to say hi and-- holy shit, is your name actually Dream? Were you a stripper in another life or something?"

This because he's finally spotted a tiny nametag pin on the bookstore owner's cardigan-- a cat curled around a book where the cover reads, I am Dream.

"Yes," says Dream, and Hob has no idea if that's in response to the first question, the second, or both. Both is terrifying to think about. As is the fact that Hob even asked that. "The cafe, you said?"

"Mmhmm," Hob agrees, cheeks burning. Oh, he's making a right mess of this, all right.

"Hmm," says Dream, peering at him over the coffee cup. This indicates nothing to Hob about how he feels about the cafe situation.

"I just worried that more noise and stuff might bother you," Hob rushes to explain. "You seem. To. You know. Like your quiet. Is all."

"It is my understanding that cafes and bookstores frequently have symbiotic relationships," says Dream evenly, though he's still watching Hob with unnerving intensity.

Well. That was easy. Maybe Hob was just worrying over nothing. Wanting to be liked when it wouldn't have been an issue.

"Alright," he says, letting out a breath. "Well. Good!"

"Good," echoes Dream, with a tiny, wry smile.

"What is this place anyway? I've seen no signage whatsoever."

"It's called The Library," Dream says.

Hob waits for him to explain. He doesn't. "Um, but... isn't it a shop?"

Dream raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "And?"

"So..." Hob says, "it's not a library."

"Purchasing something is but extended borrowing from the universe," says Dream, like that makes any sense at all.

But Hob decides there's other things he'd rather do with a pretty goth bookstore/library/whatever owner than argue semantics. "What do you carry, then?"

Now Dream preens like a cat. "The Library contains every book in print."

Now it's Hob's turn to raise an eyebrow. "That seems... unlikely? Impossible?"

Dream's self-satisfied little smile doesn't fade. "You are welcome to browse the stacks and let me know if there is anything you cannot find."

And, well, it's true that Hob didn't really get a sense of just how far back this place goes. It looks small from the street, but he's already wandered pretty far in just to find Dream, and has yet to reach a back wall.

"I will definitely have to come back," he agrees. And get lost. Definitely get lost. He's not even sure he can find his way out. He'll probably get swallowed up in Oneiromancy.

"In return I will be sure to visit your cafe," says Dream. He says it so strangely, like crossing into a foreign land. I will be sure to visit your court. "Are you open late?"

"On Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays, yup," says Hob.

"Excellent." Dream inclines his head imperiously to Hob. "Thank you. For the coffee."

Hob figures he should let him get back to his labeling. He has plenty of his own work, too.

"Yeah, sure, any time. Good to meet you, Dream."

And then he scurries away before he can make it any weirder, makes his meandering way out of "The Library," and doesn't get lost in Oneiromancy.

This time.

The following night, Hob looks up from the till to find Dream standing across the counter from him. He looks much the same as before, with the addition of a long dark coat over his clothes, and no reading glasses this time. He offers Hob a tiny smile. "Hob Gadling."

Gosh, he looks, if possible, even prettier in the warm lighting of the cafe than in the darkness of his shop. Though to be honest, Hob had half-convinced himself he'd hallucinated Dream's existence. He hasn't seen anyone go in or out of the shop since.

"Dream," he greets, with a smile. "Anything I can get for you?"

"It is I who have something for you." He hands Hob what must be a book, though it's wrapped in brown paper. "Consider it a return gift. Or perhaps. A welcome."

And before Hob can even ask if he wants coffee or something, if he wants to sit down, he slips back out through the crowd and onto the street like a vapor, and then he's gone.

Hob tears open the paper. And then stares at the book in astonishment.

It's the book. Everyone has one. The book once read but since forgotten in the shuffle of time; title, author, too vague in recollection to pin down. Unsearchable. Never found, for all that the heart of the story might have lodged its way in somewhere deep.

It's one of those books that he remembers in blistering detail now that it's in his hands, that he read in uni but couldn't have found for the life of him on his own, and Dream's just handed it to him over the counter of his cafe.

He runs his fingertip over the midnight blue cover, the embossed lettering. In Search of Nightingales. And it's only as he looks up again at the hidden shop across the street, that he realizes he never told Dream his name, either.

#dream: its a library whose checkout term is the rest of your life :) ill get the books back eventually :) hope that clears it up for you hob #hob:.......#random drabble time i guess lol #dreamling #my writing #dream of the endless #hob gadling #bookstore cryptid dream

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justporo · 10 months

Text

Tokens of Appreciation

Astarion likes to bring you little gifts and presenting them to you in his overly dramatic way and little bit of playful banter (that he totally didn't make all up on his way home to you).

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Written for the "Gifts" prompt of the BG3 Winter Holiday challenge. I like the idea of just showering a loved one with random gifts and being like "this made me think of you" - and also I imagine Astarion could be pretty cute and loving in a genuine relationship with doing stuff like this (albeit insufferably sassy, lol)

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: none Wordcount: 1,1k ~~~

Throughout winter time Astarion brought you presents. Little trinkets or a sweet treats (accompanied by him saying “a treat for my sweet” and a wink while you act like you’re going to have to throw up from his cheesiness), a single blossom of a flower besting the ice and the snow or maybe a bottle of wine the two of you could share together. It almost had the musings of a cat bringing its owner “gifts” - but you were happy that yours were much more delightful than what a feline predator would have brought in. He didn’t tell you where he would get these small tokens of appreciation - and you didn’t ask. That was part of the magic of this little game. Though, you had the distinct feeling that many of these weren’t acquired under explicitly lawfully good circumstances. But to the hells with that, you were a former thief and he a rogue, what else was new?

It had become a habit for him that whenever he went into the city to run some errands that he would grab a little something for you as well. You had dared to become accustomed to the sweet little gestures and were excited anytime you knew he’d return with a little surprise for you.

The vampire meanwhile had found he enjoyed this way of showing you a bit of admiration: a sign of thinking of you, making the time to grab something and show you some love - all without him having to give anything of himself up. Rather, it even gave him something as well: whenever he saw how your face started to beam with love and admiration, your eyes lighting up, he felt how his own chest felt lighter, warmer and a telltale smile stole onto his lips.

A naive fool might’ve called that love. Astarion counted himself among such fools when it came to you - if exclusively so.

And then he made a show of it each time too. Like when he brought you a flower that was magically frozen in a sphere of ice.

Astarion came into the kitchen where you had been preparing some dinner for yourself still fully clothed from going out. The way he’d sauntered into the room had already told you that he had a little something planned and was infinitely proud of himself - he was terribly predictable sometimes.

When he cleared his throat to get your attention you had obediently put down the vegetables you’d been currently cutting and turned around to him, leaning casually against the counter. The vampire had been waiting with a smug grin, his arms still by his sides so the cloak was fully covering his form.

“My sweet darling, I have something for you,” he said and leaned a little closer in a playful sort of way.

You immediately joined his little back and forth that you already were well accustomed to. Placing your hand on your chest as if asking ‘for me?’ you made a delighted “Oh?” and smiled at him.

With a swift movement the vampire sent one side of his cloak flying, revealing his hand under it which held a shiny sphere. Dexterously, he let the perfect, transparent sphere roll over his wrist and down his arm. And just before the ball fell to the ground he let it smoothly wander onto his other arm. With a quick shrug of his shoulder he made the shiny thing roll up and with a flick of his wrist he elegantly caught it and then offered it to you with a little bow.

“May I present to you, my love, a magically frozen blossom. The height of its existence forever caught in magically eternal ice. Beautiful if ice cold - almost like you, my dear,” he presented the gift to you, still in his little bow before you. You could see the twitch of his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth. Must’ve taken him the whole way home to come up with all of this.

You took the shiny sphere from him - immediately intrigued by its beauty and shininess. It was almost as if your history as a thief had permanently altered your brain to be drawn to shiny, glittery things; as if you had become a little magpie.

The sphere was merely cool in your hands, the ice encasing a wonderfully bright red blossom that immediately made you think of summertime. You turned the beautiful trinket in your hands admiring its beauty when, finally, Astarion’s words registered with you.

You pursed your lips and crossed your arms over your chest, still holding onto the icy sphere. The vampire grinned smugly at you - he’d been waiting for this moment.

“Astarion, dear, I did not just hear you call me frigid, did I?,” you had asked indignantly. The vampire grinned broader in response, putting even his fangs on display.

“Maybe I just called you cool, love,” he replied, sauntering over to where you were still leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Or - maybe,” you countered as Astarion leaned to you, placing one of his arms on the counter, “you just called me chilly.”

The vampire clicked his tongue and pouted: “My heart, you think so negatively of me. I would never dare to call you cold to your face.” He tried to stay serious but a smug grin crept onto his lips, making one corner of his mouth twitch. Meanwhile he leaned in a little closer. Seemingly he was convinced he’d soon be the winner of your little banter and would receive a kiss for all his efforts.

You though weren’t done playing.

“I’d hope so, Astarion. I really hope so. Because that would be so rich coming from a walking and talking corpse whose body heat can’t rise above room temperature”, you replied tongue in cheek as you stayed unimpressed by Astarion craning his neck to reach for you for a kiss.

When the vampire took in your words, he was taken aback. He stopped moving in, his eyes widened while his mouth had fallen open. Then his expression immediately changed into an amused and proud grin.

“My gods, dear,” Astarion said with a little chuckle, still grinning proudly at you.

“Alright,” he then said after staring at you for a bit longer, “I guess this burn has just proven that you’re anything but cold.”

You lifted your chin up and grinned triumphantly at him and Astarion quickly stole a little peck on your lips before he went back to the hallway to take off his cloak.

“Good! But if you’re still not convinced I can show you some heat later on”, you shouted after your vampire and were gifted with a genuine laugh.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #bg3holidayfluffle23 #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

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azurevi · 2 years

Text

from the eyes of the beholder

pairing: leona x gn!reader

summary: 5 times others know that leona is head over heels for you, and the 1 time he acts on it. 7.5k

note: just pure, innocent fluff ❤️ reader = ramshackle prefect

Jack liked to imagine himself as a somewhat perceptive person, especially with his large ears catching wind of exchanged whispers and his outstanding olfaction that allowed him to pick up distinctive scents. As reserved as he seemed, he tended to watch things from the sidelines and keep note of different people's quirks and whatnots, and so more often than not he would surprise others with his hidden knowledge and observations. All in all, he knew quite well about people around him.

Or so he thought, because whatever was unfolding in front of his widened eyes was making him doubt all his previous judegements about his much respected dorm leader.

It was mid-afternoon with the sun hanging high in the sky, burning with murderous intent. Jack, having had the misfortune to be the first student spotted by Crewel, was tasked to 'bring him the disobedient cat who would rather sleep than attend his lessons'. Jack recalled the places Ruggie would go to find Leona and found himself in the botanic garden in no time, eyes scanning the lush green and distracting flowers. He smelled his presence first, then noticed something else mixed in that woody scent.

His confusion only grew when he recognized its owner, who was none other than the prefect of Ramshackle. The trail led him to a spot shielded by a thick canopy of banana leaves, and right underneath was Leona, serenely asleep and– wait, is he sleeping on the prefect's lap? And is that their hand in his hair?

Jack blinked. He wasn't hallucinating.

Your face brightened in recognition when he finally shuffled close enough. "Hey Jack! Here to check on the cacti?"

"...No," despite his initial shock, his voice gave nothing away. Leona spared him one glance before promptly closing his eyes again. "Crewel asked me to bring Leona to class, but… what are you doing here?"

As if just now realizing yourself, you removed your fingers from Leona's silky hair, earning a dissatisfied huff. "Your dorm leader here caught me passing by and made me his personal pillow. I haven't moved from this position for hours."

Jack hoped that you were only exaggerating about the time, but frankly he was too preoccupied with other thoughts to care. For one, the painfully arrogant, prideful, and self-assured prince was resting his head on your lap and letting you thread your fingers through his locks? The Leona who would scowl and glower whenever someone so much as brushed against his tail? The Leona who would bite someone's arm off before ever giving them the idea that he could be anything less than almighty, let alone soft?

"Just tell Crewel you failed. I'm not about to ruin my nap to brew stupid potions," Leona stated, stubborn as usual.

"No way, I'm not missing my classes so that you can have your fun in dreamland. Get up!" You nudged him. No movement. "Jack, can you help me drag him off?"

Before the poor boy could take a step, Leona growled. "Don't you dare. Just give me ten more minutes, damn it."

"That's the third time you've said it." You deadpanned, to which he responded with a half-hearted hum. Seeing as he wasn't moving any time soon, your shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Jack. I'll bring him over as soon as the ten minute mark passes."

It was less than ideal to have to go back to Crewel empty-handed, but there was no convincing Leona when he was hell-bent on doing something. With a defeated sigh, Jack nodded. "I'll be relying on you then, prefect."

If there was one person in NRC who could be deemed trust-worthy, it had to be you. He mentally gave himself a pat on the back before bidding goodbye.

In reality, didn't leave right away. He knew that he shouldn't intrude on his friend's life (let alone his senior's), but curiosity got him in a chokehold. Besides, he needed to make sure that you wouldn't get your wrist torn off if you tried anything else.

"It's quite unfair, actually," you mumbled. "All you do is lie around all day, how do you even pass your classes?"

"Everything the school’s teaching, I’ve already learned back home." Leona's mouth curled into a smirk. "What, are you jealous?"

"As if," you rolled your eyes. As if out of habit, you started smoothing his mane out again. With each gentle stroke, Leona's face relaxed into a peaceful expression, and his ears twitched in what Jack could only identify as delight. You must've noticed it too, because something akin to interest flitted across your feature. Jack's stomach dropped. He had seen that look many times before, and it was a telltale sign of trouble.

After only a bit of hesitation, your outstretched hand moved to touch Leona's fluffy ear. That's it, Jack thought. You'd done it– poked at the hornet’s nest, shoved your hand inside a tiger’s yawning mouth, threw yourself into a river filled with piranhas. It was nice knowing you. There was no way you were going to get away with this.

Leona's eyes shot open, his nose scrunched in annoyance. "Careful where you touch, herbivore."

"Fine. My bad," you removed your hand with great reluctance, returning to dedicate your attention to his hair. The moment carried on as if nothing had happened, and within seconds Leona was already snoring.

What the hell was that. Jack swiveled on his heels and let his legs lead him away. In his head was only thoughts darting around, trying to make sense of why exactly Leona acted so differently towards you. The fact that he had you stay during his sleeping time was already out of character enough, but to let you off after you touched his ear, one of the most sensitive parts of a beastman's body?

There could be something going on here. Jack had a hunch on what it was, but he didn't feel like jumping to conclusions just yet. For now, he should just sit and watch.

At the end of the day, he got caught by Crewel again. It turned out that Leona never showed up for his lesson after all.

It was a breezy afternoon, but for Epel it was hotter than ever on the sports ground. The Magift Club was having its routine training, and everyone was dedicating their best even though it wasn't a real tournament.

His own heartbeat was the only thing he could hear as he dashed towards the opposing team's goal, the golden disk hovering right beside him. Yells and heavy steps followed him, but he was determined not to let his legs give out. Eagerness lurched inside his throat as the net neared, and he angled his arm to throw the disk–

-- only to get thrown off balance by a gust of wind. He landed on his butt with a groan, and looked up to see the disk in the possession of one Savanaclaw student. Cursing under his breath, he swatted the dirt off his knees and dived into action again.

After some more intense chasing and magic being thrown around, he headed with the rest of the team towards the benches, where Leona was sprawled out on a chair, sharp eyes heavy-lidded and coated with sleep. It wouldn't be a surprise if he turned out to have slept through the entire match.

"... Your weakness is that you only know how to charge forward." Leona commented just as Epel was about to take a sip from his water bottle. "You can't improve if you never learn how to look out for ambushes."

"Ah… thank you."

Alright, so maybe he hadn't been out for the count after all. Nonchalantly, Leona shifted into a more comfortable position, his face angled away from Epel. Even if he came off as detached and uncaring most of the time, there were occasions where he would give out short yet valuable advice and prove that he had been keeping an eye on his members. Epel only hoped that he could see the renowned player in action more often. Sadly, it only happened once in a blue moon.

"Ah, look who's here," Ruggie said. Epel followed his gaze and spotted you walking across the field, holding a paper bag large enough to topple you. It wasn't rare that you would drop by and visit. In fact, most of them had been looking forward to you and swarmed you with warm welcomes (presumably because they knew you were hiding snacks in that bag, but Epel decided not to comment on that when his stomach was rumbling too).

"Where's Leona?" You asked once you've given Ruggie a bag of donuts. The grinning hyena jutted his head to the side, "Lazing around as usual. Wanna stay and watch us play?"

You arched your head back and scanned the clock above the rows of seats. "Sure, I have some time to kill." You gave him a thumbs up and made your way towards the chairs at the front.

Epel watched as you kicked Leona's chair to wake him up. He was too far away to hear whatever you were talking about, but you looked pretty close, chatting away with an exchanged chuckle here and there. Even though Leona still looked sleep-laden, he rested his head on his fist and kept his eyes on you the whole time.

One was his club leader, and the other was his close friend. He was starting to wonder how you two had become so close when Ruggie threw his arm around his frame. "Time for round two! What, you still haven't finished the cookies? Need some help?"

Epel quickly shoved them inside his mouth. "No fran qu (no thank you)!"

Everyone had already spread out in two teams when Leona promptly stood up from his humble 'throne' and stepped onto the field. "Wait. You, swap with me."

The second-year student in question pointed at himself and blinked.

Leona frowned. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

"N-no!" The student ran off with his tail literally between his legs. Epel's eyes followed the man as he made his way to the front of the opposing team, stretching his muscled limbs.

The match started as soon as you blew the whistle. If Leona actually getting on the field was out of the ordinary, then him putting effort in playing was enough to leave one flabbergasted and dumbfounded. He didn't even have to lift a finger to weave his way through the wall of opponents. Yet, as Epel watched on, he couldn't help but feel both amazed and startled at the same time.

Amazed, because Leona really lived up to his name as one of the top players among the long list of magic schools. He was quick on his feet, never letting anyone so much as touch the hem of his shirt as he flashed past defenses. In fact, his moves were so unpredictable and fast that whatever formations that had been discussed dissolved within moments as everyone scrambled to block him. But that was not all– he was tactical. One moment he was making others chase him so that he could sweep them away with one single hit, the other he was planting traps on the ground and sneering as they fell victim. It was like he could predict everyone's move.

There was no chance of beating him even if he had his eyes closed all the way. Though Epel's eyes were trained on the lone figure, he could hear your voice booming across the field.

"Ruggie! Epel! Go get him!"

"Ugh, I'm trying!" Epel clenched his jaw and rushed forward, shouting as he prepared to launch a sneak attack from behind– then Leona turned his head and smirked.

–

It only took fifteen minutes for Leona to render everyone useless. Epel dragged himself towards the benches and dropped himself carelessly, limbs sprayed out as he tried to catch his breath.

"Did you have to go that harsh on them?" You said as Leona returned with nary a bead of sweat. There was a touch of playful reprimand in your voice.

"They need to be humbled once in a while lest they become too full of themselves."

You two moved somewhere else, the air carrying your words away. The temporary silence was replaced by Ruggie's wheezes. "Jeez- lemme catch my breath. That was hell."

"I know right," Epel answered weakly. "Do you think Leona-san joined because we weren’t doing good enough?"

"Please, he wouldn't bother," there were sounds of a paper bag being rustled. A moment later, Ruggie spoke up again, this time with food in his mouth. "The answer is pretty simple, actually. Why do you think he worked so hard out there?"

"...He wanted to kick our asses?"

"Nah, that's too much trouble. If he wanted to kick your ass he would've asked me to do it." Epel wasn't sure what to feel about that information. "The truth is- he just wanted to show off, duh."

Epel craned his head so he was facing Ruggie. "Show off? To whom?"

"C'mon. Just see for yourself."

He did as told, scanning the place and eventually spotting you still talking to Leona, this time playfully shoving at his arm at something he had said. There was this look on his face that Epel couldn't put a name to. He'd seen it on someone else though: Sebek as he gushed about Malleus, Rook as he read a magazine with Vil's face printed on the cover, Cater when he came across something Magicam-worthy. Epel knew exactly what these displayed feelings were, but then it would mean that–

"Leona-san worked us to the bone just so he could impress the prefect?" Epel all but barked out the accusation. Ruggie giggled at his reaction and shrugged, leaving the boy even more exasperated. That wasn't really the point, but irritance was clouding his senses at that time. It was only until he was back in his room and lying in bed that he would start to connect the dots and let out a loud, stunned gasp.

The café near NRC had been flooded with customers all day, and the queue only lengthened as time passed. Cater squeezed his dry eyes shut, having scrolled on his phone the whole time he was waiting outside.

Ever since a famed influencer on Magicam had complimented this café in a post, it had been getting all the hype. Cater couldn’t miss out on the fun, even if everything on the menu was too saccharine for his liking.

After what felt like millennia, he finally got inside the shop. It looked like pink had vomited all over the walls, but it should look aesthetic enough for the folks on Magicam. Cater spotted a vacant seat by the window and rushed towards it. From the corner of his eyes he could see a man heading in the same direction.

“Shit-“ the man cussed as he tripped.

“Ah, my bad.” Cater raised his hands and stepped away. The man muttered something under his breath and looked up. The seat had already been taken by the… same man that had just run into him?

Cater chuckled quietly as the man looked around the shop, then back at him again. His unique magic really came in handy sometimes.

He ordered the most famous dishes and turned to his phone again. Perhaps he would give them to those adorable first-years later, or just send them all to Trey.

After a while, even the endless scrolling came to an end. Cater pressed on the home button and waited for the page to refresh. Emerald eyes wandered lazily around the room, rounding when he caught sight of a familiar figure.

If it was any other person, Cater would’ve thought that his eyes had deceived him, but there was no mistaking those ears and long tail. That was definitely Leona Kingscholar, standing in queue with his hands shoved inside his pockets. Much like Cater, he was still in school uniform, and the look of irritance on his face made him stand out like a sore thumb in this sugary world.

Just what could he be doing here? Cater knew that the man wasn’t particularly into sweets and pastries. He definitely wasn’t one to follow trends either. Not to mention that he had zero media presence… unless he had a private account?

Leona’s tail flicked. The man in front of him suddenly crossed his foot in front of the other and stumbled out of the queue. Leona quickly stepped up and silenced whatever the man was going to say with a glare.

In the corner of the café, Ruggie’s shoulders shook with laughter.

Even with underhand methods, there was only so much the two could do to shorten the waiting time. It took another fifteen minutes for them to finally get to the counter. Cater watched with intrigue as the barista stuffed two well-loved red velvet cakes into a white box and handed it to Leona.

Ruggie quickly finished one of them as soon as he got his hands on it, and Cater read ‘worth the effort’ from his lips movement. The two left with the untouched piece sitting peacefully inside the box.

Well, that was something. Cater shook his head and started snapping pictures of the desserts that had arrived moments ago. To think that Leona of all people would wait in line just for a piece of cake… his thoughts went on as he mindlessly typed out a caption. Could it have been for someone else ?

Nah. No way. He couldn’t imagine Leona ever lifting a finger for anyone other than himself.

Night was already creeping on the horizon by the time he finally finished posting. The walk back school was accompanied by more scrolling. The prefect’s profile icon popped up in the ‘story’ section. Cater clicked in without a second thought.

It was a photo of a red velvet cake. The red velvet cake. The text above it read ‘pleasant surprise from an unlikely party!’

Within moments, he was already scanning the entire photo like a detective. There, in the right corner, was a tail. No doubt about it. And he knew the tail— he had just watched its owner spend nearly half an hour lining up in the cafe.

"Now isn't this an interesting discovery…?" Mischief passed over his eyes for a split second, his legs picking up the pace. It seemed that desserts wouldn't be the only thing he would be delivering today.

It was nothing out of the norm for Leona to spend Monday afternoons napping under the tall apple tree. In fact, he went there so routinely that he might as well become one with the background.

Today, though, something had changed. Or as Rook would call it, love was in the air, because under the tree were two figures in lieu of one.

You were sitting cross-legged against the trunk, sheets laid out around you like a protective shield. Every once in a while, Leona’s tail would mess them up, and if you berated him he would feign innocence.

“Come on Leona, you’re the only one who can help me with this.” You nudged his knee.

Rook squinted, his eyes locking onto the documents. There, on the top of what seemed to be the cover page, read ‘Sunset Savanna’.

Ah, a history project then.

“Ask Ruggie.”

“I would if he wasn’t busy doing your duties. So you’re stuck with me.”

Leona made a low grumbling noise, but Rook noted that his face showed no sigh of annoyance. How unfair! The first few times Rook approached the beastman during his nap, he received nothing less than distasteful glares and venomous threats.

One more evidence supporting his hypothesis.

“Fine. You have five minutes to ask questions.”

A smile bloomed on your face, one that Leona didn’t fail to catch. It was only a flash, easily overlooked, but Rook saw it crystal clear— the subtle tenderness intruding on his scowl. It disappeared as quickly as it’d come.

“Alright. So what’s Sunset Savannah like?”

“Hot.”

You heaved a sigh. “You’re not cooperating here.”

“Maybe your questions are too vague, herbivore.”

“Ugh- fine! Let’s start with the people. Do you guys have a mascot or something?”

Leona shifted so he was lying on his side, left arm propped up with his head resting on his palm. “There’s this warthog and meerkat everyone loves. They’re supposed to be related to the King of Beasts. Personally though, I couldn't care less.”

"How about something that cannot be found anywhere else?”

“Mm. Hot spring eggs,”

“You guys have hot springs?” With the way your eyes twinkled with interest, Leona couldn’t help but give in.

“No, it’s a volcano…”

Your ‘interview’ stretched out for far longer than five minutes, eventually jumping from general knowledge to Leona’s own experience with the place he grew up at.

“Sure, the sunset is beautiful, but the real show begins when night falls. All kinds of stars come out, perfect for sentimental beings like you.”

“I don’t believe that you’ve never looked at them before.” You challenged.

Leona scoffed, reaching to scratch the back of his ear. “Only as a kid. It gets boring.”

“The privilege is showing, your highness,” you sighed wistfully, angling your head so you were gazing at the bright sky. “I wish we had stars here too.”

“If you really want to see them, I can bring you there next time.”

Your face lightened up.

“Of course, it comes with a price.”

You rolled your eyes. “And what will it be?”

A dismissive hum. “I’ll decide later.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it then.” You started packing your things, missing the way Leona’s tail swished. Even if you had noticed, you probably wouldn’t have understood what it meant. Rook tittered into his palm as he watched on.

“Leaving so soon? I expected more questions,” Leona said.

“I'd rather not get on your bad side by keeping you away from your precious nap. I’ll come to you if I need anything—“ your words were interrupted with a sharp hiss. In your careless movements, the paper managed to slice through your skin, leaving a stinging cut.

Leona picked up the smell immediately, his eyes trained on your finger. The slit was unnoticeable at first, but red eventually started to bloom around it.

“Tsk. How careless are you?” He jumped onto his feet and snatched your hand, observing the cut. Your eyes danced between his face and the wound, much like a flustered rabbit.

“It's just a cut.” You started, trying to hide your hand. But his grip on you was strong, albeit not enough to hurt.

“No it's not. You could get an infection and end up troubling me again. I’ll get you bandaged up.” He began walking with his hand still holding your wrist, pulling you along.

You took advantage of the situation and dived into another round of questions for your project, and Leona, irritated that he might seem, answered them accordingly.

As the two of you neared the building Rook was in, his eyes suddenly shot up, practically shooting daggers at a particular window.

“What’s it?” You stood on your tiptoes. There was no one behind the glass.

His features remained hardened for a moment before he relaxed his shoulders. “…Nothing. You were sayin’?”

Rook waited a few seconds to reemerge again. Although you’d already vanished from sight, he had already gathered all that he needed: the lion had been captivated by none other than the magic-less prefect, and he barely needed his instincts and observations as a hunter to confirm that.

It wasn’t that you hated group work. If anything, you enjoyed having someone share the workload. But when your group mates were none other than the red & blue duo from Heartslabyul plus a cat-shaped trouble magnet, you would really rather be left alone.

“We should make a body swapping potion. I bet it’ll be fun if Riddle and Floyd exchanged personalities.” Ace suggested with that look of his that often preceded undesired circumstances. You were heading to your next class along with the wave of students in the corridor.

“Can you please take this test seriously? I can’t get another fail!” Deuce slapped the back of Ace’s head, causing the redhead to stagger forward. A few students turned their heads around in curiosity, but most were already familiar with the two's antics.

Crewel had given each group the mission to brew from scratch one of the potions mentioned in the textbook as a part of the term test, not knowing what a mistake it was to leave the power of decision-making to you lot.

“How about a potion that can make all food taste like Tuna?” Grim asked, tail brushing your neck as he perched himself on your shoulder.

“Just ask Trey to do that for you.” You commented, not bothering to look up from the testbook in your hands.

“You’re right, henchman! Let’s go right now!”

“Focus on the test first, will you?” Ace was the one to complain this time, earning a hiss from Grim.

“Let’s narrow it down to potions that are easy to make. It’ll be more convenient if the ingredients can be acquired in the botanical garden.” Deuce went around the bickering duo to peek over your shoulder.

The mention of the botanical garden reminded you of a certain lazy lion. Being caught up in the test had kept you from meeting Leona in your free time. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for a whole week already. It didn’t help that he was in another year and had entirely different classes.

Perhaps you could pay him a visit later, but it’s not as if he would miss you or something. A foreign sadness crept up on you. You shook the thought off and opted to focus on the book instead.

It seemed that fate preferred otherwise, because a gust of wind carried Ruggie's laughter to you, followed by a gruntle from– speak of the devil– Leona. Your eyes were already searching for him through the passing crowd before you could contain your curiosity. The lurch in your chest told a lot more than you were willing to admit.

Leona, on the contrary, didn't need to search at all. His sharp eyes landed on you with infallible precision, as unreadable as ever. If it had been anyone else, you would've raised your hand and greeted them with energy, but this was the same person who once walked past you as though you were a mere stranger, leaving your open palm hanging in the air. As an attempt to preserve your dignity, you decided to avert your eyes.

Anyways, since when did Leona of all people go to classes?

Your heartbeat succumbed to a deafening rhythm the closer he got. Half hopeful and half desperate to suppress it, you held your breath the moment he was close enough that your shoulders touched.

As expected, he did not greet or even address you in any way. But there was something soft touching your cheek, the suddenness making your eye twitch in surprise. It caressed your face almost gently before cool air took its place.

You turned just in time to catch Leona's tail retreating.

–

Engrossed in the contents of the book, you missed all the meaningful gazes being shot around by your friends. Ace and Deuce had been at it for some time, while Grim pretended to understand.

Deuce was positive that he wasn’t on the same channel as Ace. Just earlier, when he’d caught Leona’s tail poking your face, he shot a quick look at Ace. A raised brow, a glance towards you, then back to Ace. It was supposed to mean ‘Did you catch that?’, and Ace took it as ‘Wanna ambush the prefect?’

The resulted mayhem when Ace tackled you was something you never wanted to bring up again.

Now Deuce wasn’t sure what went on between you and the fearsome leader of Savanaclaw, but Ace had an idea or two. Epel and Jack had both commented offhandedly about the weird atmosphere that surrounded you two. Deuce was present both times, but it'd probably flew right over his head.

Deuce wriggled his brows. Do you have any idea?

Ace mirrored him. Dude, what even is that supposed to mean?

Grim’s feigned participation was cut short when he caught sight of two familiar figures entering the canteen. “Hey! What is that sleepyhead doing here?”

All three of you snapped your heads towards the entrance. There stood the spotlight of their discussion, Leona, in his usual rumpled form, half-awake daze, sharp fangs catching the chandelier’s light as he yawned.

“First he heads to class, now he’s coming to the canteen himself. What’s up with that guy?” Grim gasped dramatically. “Is he plotting something again?”

“He’s not,” you came to his defense with suspicious rapidness. “Plus, what is there to plot about?”

“Mm. You have a point, henchman.”

“Alright,” Ace held his fist out. “Loser buys lunch. Rock paper scissors!”

Grim let out a shrill laugh as Deuce stared at his sole open palm in defeat. It wasn’t your fault that he only ever played paper.

While your cat proceeded to go off on a tangent the today's menu, you gazed over at the growing masses of students.

“So,” Ace craned his head. “Have you chosen the potion or are we going with body swapping?”

“Or the tuna one!”

“Neither.” You tore your eyes away and turned the book around. “We’re making a flower-growing potion—“

They groaned loudly.

“—because it’s easy to make. Do you want to pass or not?” You insisted.

“I would rather be well-fed! Flowers are stu- FNNGA!”

Grim jumped a good feet in the air when someone slammed their lunch on your table, his fur standing tall in alert. Leona sank onto Deuce’s seat, while Ruggie took the spot next to Ace. “You should try to be gentler, Leona-san.”

Before the lion could answer, Grim stood up and yelled, “Hey! That’s Deuce’s seat!”

“Yea? He’s tiny enough to squeeze in somewhere.” Leona said nonchalantly. There was a curiously excessive amount of meat in his dish. After a beat, he turned to you. “What’re you up to?”

Ace resisted the urge to tell him off, preferring to indulge in your interaction to preserve Deuce’s interests.

“Potion test. What, have you missed me?”

“A lil’ bit.”

That seemed to catch you off-guard. Ace snorted in his attempt to hold in a laugh, and received a kick under the table from Ruggie.

As you tried to come up with a response, he leaned in and grabbed your book. “Making something?”

“The one for growing flowers. Its ingredients are the easiest to find.”

“Ah. I know where you can find them in the botanical garden. I’ll show you later.” He closed the book and slid it across the table.

“Wouldn’t I be invading your precious rest?”

“Then you’ll just have to catch up and be quick.”

Just then, Deuce returned with an expression twisted between confusion and betrayal. Ace barely felt guilt-- there were many things he had to discuss with Deuce (and Grim, though he seemed ignorant).

For now, he just let the pouting boy squeeze in beside him and quietly observed Leona and you throughout lunch, utilizing whatever knowledge he had about love to analyze the situation. He picked up on the way you took Leona’s vegetables without having to ask and how you slapped his hand away when he reached for the meat on your plate. Occasionally he would throw in a snarky comment that aimed to drive you up and wall, and smirk when it succeeded.

And those looks, sevens. If Ace had to watch for a minute longer he might have to puke in his lunch. He reckoned that he’d already seen enough before turning to address Deuce, who was still hung up on his seat being taken.

It felt great, holding this kind of knowledge over you. If he played his cards right, he might even get some benefits out of it.

“Dude, what’s with that creepy smirk on your face?” Ruggie pointed out suddenly.

Ace shrugged, “Nothing. You’ll know sooner or later.”

Ruggie was the first to know.

Leona had been upfront and rather transparent about his feelings, but the hyena had long before noticed the shifts in Leona’s attitude towards you. It was hard not to when he was the one kicking him awake and dragging him to class everyday. Leona's actions spoke a lot more than words could, and the occasional passing glances were impossible to ignore.

When Ruggie confronted him about it, he admitted it while making it sound as casual as he could. Ruggie never for a second bought his nonchalance.

And it was great, knowing that his dorm leader wasn’t a stone-cold heartless jerk. It was both leverage and great material for teasing even when Leona would threaten to tape his mouth shut.

That was until the people came in. First it was Jack, then it was Epel, then the many other friends and acquaintances who wanted first-hand information on Leona’s love life. Even underclassmen whom he’d only seen around campus approached him. At first it was a great source of income— nothing came without a price after all— but when it began to interfere with his work, it didn’t feel so satisfying anymore.

If Leona would just make it official, it would make Ruggie’s life so much easier. But no, that lion was so stubborn that he hadn’t even confessed his feelings yet. And he doubted that you were any wiser.

Now Ruggie knew better than to stick his nose where he didn’t belong. There were countless ways in which things could go wrong and he really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Leona’s wrath. Yet if they went right, he could get those nosy students off his back and end the torture of seeing you dance around each other like two dumbasses.

No, he wasn’t concerned about your (or Leona’s, for that matter) love life at all. He just wanted Leona to spend more time with you so he could catch a break.

Plus it’d put Leona in a good mood, and that’s really all he could ask for.

As usual, Leona’s room was disheveled when Ruggie entered, a chess board lying at the end of the bed while its rightful owner was snoozing, wrapped inside a blanket like a burrito. With light steps he lurked further in, inhaled deeply, and flung the file toward the sleeping lion with all his might.

Leona’s hand shot out from the blanket and caught the document mid-air. “What did I say about interrupting my naps, Bucchi?”

“That I should never wake you even if the sky’s falling down?”

As Leona stretched his limbs after the satisfying rest, the bed seemed to shrink in comparison. “You better have a good reason then.” He said mid-yawn, opening the file to read the papers inside. He was supposed to pick them up from Crowley, but decided that they weren’t important enough to warrant his presence.

Well, here goes nothing. “I take it that you haven’t heard then.”

“Heard what.”

“That the prefect is leaving soon,” Ruggie walked around the room to pick up the miscellaneous items on the floor, unfazed under the lion’s relentless glare. “Crowley found a way to send them back to wherever they came from. They’ve already started packin’, emptying the building and all.”

The silence was heavy. A heavy cloak of tension draped over the room.

“No,” Leona turned in his bed. “If they really were leaving, they would’ve told me.”

“Yea, but why?” Ruggie pushed, stifling a titter at the way Leona's tail swayed to and fro in growing agitation. “It’s not like you’re close or anything.”

Leona opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. A laugh startled out of him. “You’re fucking with me, Bucchi. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

"Whatever, man. I've said all I have to say." Ruggie took a peek of his meticulously concealed expression. It didn't matter that he wouldn't believe it now. He'd planted a fear in his heart, and fear was a vicious, powerful thing. He did one more round around the room, decided that Leona wasn't going to say anything else, and headed for the door.

“Y’know, I’m just saying, but we don’t know when, or if they will come back, so maybe you should get off that— okay! Stop throwing shit at me! ” Ruggie scurried out with his tail between his legs, cursing under his breath.

“The things I do for these dumbasses… they better pay me ten donuts if it works– no, twenty!”

—

The blanket was starting to feel constricting. Leona kicked it off of him and reluctantly opened his eyes, now wide awake and ruminating on what Ruggie had just said.

You're leaving.

He rolled over and turned on his phone– something he almost never did. There were over a hundred unread emails and messages, mostly from home, but he ignored them all and found your contact after some scrolling. The last time you'd texted had been about his absence at the prefects' meeting, and he'd left you on read. In fact, the conversations were mostly one-way, with occasional 'ok's and insincere emojis dispersed on his side of the screen.

It wasn't that you didn't talk a lot. You usually met up in person, and if he really needed you, he could just call you, though that was not an usual occurrence.

"It's not like you're close or anything."

His eyes flew up to your status. Last online: 6 hours ago. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, then retreated.

So what if you were really leaving? It shouldn't matter to him. You were just someone he tolerated more than most, and he'd known from the beginning that you didn't belong here. There had always been an expiration date on your stay. The horror of you suddenly vanishing from his life shouldn't be this hollowing.

But it was very, very hollowing, and very, very real. Perhaps a part of him had always thought that everything would stay the same– you and him here, where he was far enough from home that he could forget his empty, meaningless title as the second prince, the unwanted son, where he could rest knowing that nothing, and no one, could take you away from him.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there was nothing he could do, and he was destined to lose you the way he'd lost everything he'd ever wanted to someone else.

Or maybe– there was a tiny voice at the back of his head– maybe he still wanted to try and fight against it, as pointless as it sounded. Deep down, he only knew two things: that he would never forgive himself if he just let you slip away, and that you were always worth trying for.

Stupid herbivore, always planting this stupid hope in his heart.

He all but hopped off the bed, and pointedly ignored Ruggie's smirk as he made a run for the mirror chamber.

–

Trapped on all sides with arms so sore you could barely lift them up, you reckoned that the decision to deal with all this by yourself was a great mistake.

There was old and new furniture occupying the spaces around you, and some more that were stuck on the porch, all demanding your attention. You’d naively thought that the unpacking and moving would take no time. And now it was dusk already, and you’d barely gone through half of the deliveries.

After what had probably been months of requesting and protesting, Crowley finally allowed you to buy some new furniture for your dorm with the school’s money. It’d felt like winning a long, taxing battle, finally able to bid farewell to the drawers that wouldn’t open and the chairs that wobbled.

It was all fine until the furniture came. You’d been in class when the driver rang, and by the time you returned, he'd already left, leaving the heavy boxes outside the door.

Perhaps you really should’ve called some friends from Savanaclaw that were strong enough to help. Jack, for one. Maybe even the unmotivated dorm leader. Anyone would be a much better help than Grim, really, who was probably outside the building trying to claw his way into the unopened boxes.

In the midst of your wallowing, you failed to pick up Grim’s sharp yell, only the slam of the front door that shook the whole building. A scolding formed on your tongue, but quickly dissolved when you heard heavy footsteps come up the stairs. Squeezing your way through the furnishings, you poked your head out of your room and waited.

The stomps came closer, stopped. A pause later, Leona came around the corner, mane disheveled and eyes flying around, almost in panic. When they landed on you, his shoulders sank in relief.

“Leona? Wh-”

“Thank the sevens,” He marched up to you in a few strides, and when he’s close enough, his arms suspended in the air, reaching for a part of you that he could touch. After a long moment, he stuck them back to his sides.

Emerald eyes landed on the disastrous scene inside the room, especially the emptied shelves and belongings piled in a corner. Something strained passed over his features.

Once you got over the initial shock, you remembered what you’d just been thinking of. “Hey, now that you're here, do you think you can help me move-”

“Don’t leave.”

You blinked. “What?”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, brows knitted in a frown. “Don’t make me say it again… I can’t believe you decided to keep me in the dark.”

You looked inside the room and back at him. “I mean, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“What if it is for me?” With a gentle hesitation that you’d never seen him exhibit, he reached for your hand. Your heart skipped when he brought your knuckles to his lips, his gaze solely focused on you. He’d always loved lingering around your personal space, but not like this. Not with his feelings being put on display, like a show you weren’t supposed to see.

“I came here in such a rush that I didn’t even have time to think over what to say. Just…” he closed his eyes. “Reconsider your leave. Please. Or at the very least, stay for a few more weeks. You can’t just stumble into my life and leave without a sign. I don’t even want to imagine returning to a life without you. For this once, I need you to choose me.”

And then, as if realizing his unusual display of vulnerability, his face hardened up. “...Look, I rarely ask anything of anyone. Whatever deadly grip you have on me, you gotta be responsible for it.”

You sucked in a breath, processing his abrupt spill of feelings, before lowering your head. For a moment he took the trembling of your shoulders as you crying, but soon enough he recognized the peals of laughter that fell out of you. If he hadn’t just laid his heart out in front of you, he would’ve taken the time to indulge in the sound that he loved so much.

“Is this funny?” He scowled.

“Mm. No,” you jutted your head towards your room. “Did you think I was leaving?”

Confusion passed over his face. “Of course. You have everything packed, and Crowley…”

He trailed off, the gears in his head turning. Suddenly it all became clear to him. The new stuff laying around. The absence of your clingy friends. The simple fact that no one seemed to know that you were 'leaving'. After a moment, something akin to fury dawned on his expression. “…has never actually been helpful. Damn it, Bucchi.”

Your heart dipped when he removed his hand from around your wrist, ruffling his long locks. “Just a house makeover then. Got it. Forget about it. Bye.”

“Wait, no!” You rushed in front of him, blocking his exit. “What about all the stuff you just said?”

He raised a brow, feigning ignorance, and earned a roll of your eyes, “Well, I’m not letting them slide. I’m not going anywhere, at least not yet.” You thought for a moment. “The truth is, I haven’t decide if I want to leave. I’ve built so much around here that it’ll just be like leaving another home. But if it soothes you, I’m sure the day I have to choose is still far away from us. So, in the meantime…” You reached for his hand in the same manner, kissing the knot of his knuckle. His ears twitched, giving away his carefully concealed emotions. “Let me be responsible for the turmoils in your heart?”

“About damn time.” Leona moved in, this time landing the kiss on your lips, and his smile spread into it easily, like a lovesick lover returning home.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #sie writes

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aforestescape · 25 days

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more kidnapper simon, this time featuring light smut

content includes: gn!reader, dubcon, male receiving head, slight hair pulling. i’ll have the smut under the cut so you can skip that bit if you’d like

previous.

simon doesn’t like to leave you alone in the house for too long. beyond the fact that he always has that slight worry in the back of his mind. worried that you accepted your place with far less resistance than you should have and that you’re biding your time to try an escape.

it’s not you escaping he’s worried about. he’d burn a trail into the earth on a path to find you. drag you right back to your little cabin in the mountains. but if you had the chance and left it’d mean he was alone again. that everytime you cling to him, searching for salvation in his arms you were lying.

he’d never hurt you, he wouldn’t be like his father. sure he took you away from everything you knew but that was what was best. the moment he laid eyes on you he knew you were special. spent weeks stalking his little pet, finding out what you liked, what made you tick. he’d made sure his little home would be as welcoming as possible for you, for it to feel like yours too before he took you in.

the reason far greater than that small fear though was the fact that you’d be lonely. there were cameras installed in every nook of the home and some of meters of distance into the woods surrounding. whenever he checked up on you he’d catch you wistfully staring out the window. eyes darting over to clocks whenever you took a break from reading.

hugging yourself on the couch as the fire burned in the hearth nearby. he hated to see his pet so sad.

whenever he got back you’d offer him a smile, melting into his large, warm chest as he hugged you. face nuzzling into the cold fabric of whatever jacket he wore.

this was one of the days he had to leave for hours. he’s promised you that he’d have a surprise for you when he got back. it made you giddy, pestering him to give you a hint or two as to what it could be.

you didn’t expect him to come back hours later with a pet carrier in hand. a familiar green duffle with mesh pockets to let you see the cat on the inside. you were frozen in surprise as he opened the carrier to reveal the little black kitty inside, bright green eyes staring at you. a patch of white in the fur that made you almost think this cat was yours. the one you had before coming here with simon.

he huffs out a story about his days activities as the cat meows and comes prancing over to you. rubbing it’s body against you and yelling rather loudly.

he’d broke into your old house a few days ago apparently. just the front door really, left it open so your cat could escape. he’d went to the shelter today and adopted it after the workers let him know the family said the owner was gone. had them transfer the contacts on the chip and adopted your cat.

you listened to him as his story derailed to bitching about arguing with some grandma over the last cat stand on display at the pet store. your fingers trailing over long strands of fur as you took in the fact that he’d went through all that trouble to bring your child back.

to thank him you made a huge roast dinner. potatoes, carrots, greens, gravy to smother onto the beef. simon watched idly as you happily prepped and cooked the meal. smiles coming to your face everytime the cat came by to rub against your legs.

you thanked him again as he ate the hearty meal you’d prepared. sat on your knees under the wooden table, perched between his large, hairy, muscular thighs with his pants pulled down enough to free his cock from its confines. your hands running up his thighs, trailing kisses along the way to his center.

you took him in hand gently, peppering kisses along the length of him. he was a little bigger than average and thick, a defined vein running up the side of it and peaking from behind his foreskin.

you heard him let out a deep rumble as you held him firmer, moving your hands up and down the length of him. pumping him and pulling the foreskin back with each pull. watching as pearly drops of precum dripped from the head.

your giddiness was still there. you wanted to thank simon for all his kindness. you laved your tongue over the mushroomy head of his cock, moaning at the taste of him on your tongue. you glanced up to find him watching you and held your tongue out for him to see his cum collected on it. his brown eyes looked darker than normal, trained on you as you flicked your tongue under the head of him. swirling around the head and sucking lightly.

he went back to eating as you took him into your mouth. warm and wet wrapped around the first few inches of his cock. sucking lightly as you got used to the weight of his pretty cock in your mouth. keeping your breathing in check as you bobbed your head and licked the underside. one hand wrapped around the base and squeezing everytime you went back down.

you take your time. bobbing your head slowly, pulling off his cock to look at the trail of saliva you leave behind. kissing along the length, laving your tongue over him, pressing gentle kisses to the inside of simons thighs.

when you’ve finally got his full length down your throat, nose pressed against his greying pubes, simons hand reaches down to stroke your cheek. rough fingers tracing the shape of his cock inside your mouth. you hum around his length as you pull back. his hand moving to your hair and grabbing what he can into his hand.

you close your eyes and focus on your breathing and the scent of him, letting him take control. using your hair as reins to move you back and forth. your cheeks hollowed out and sucking him as you please. you glance up to watch as his chest heaves, his pace growing faster as he jerks his hips forwards. fucking into your mouth like he can’t help himself, bucking up to chase your mouth. you hum as you feel him twitch in your mouth, getting closer to his release.

he keeps up the pace until he’s spilling his seed down your throat. you moan as he does, swallowing everything you can as he keeps you choked on his cock. you keep your mouth on him as he finishes up the meal. you’re a little dazed as he lets you off of him, not before offering a kiss to his head. he helps you back up off your knees and you ask him if he wants a slice of the apple crumble you made.

he grumbles out a reply, leaning down to kiss you. slow like you, taking his time and letting his hands roam over your body. when he pulls away he makes you sit down and eat instead. you can share the pie once you’re done.

#aforestescape #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x gender neutral reader #cod fanfic #kidnapper!ghost

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heavenstarship · 27 days

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what if the boingoverse was set in the wild west and danny was the sheriff of the town they all lived in and one day his asshole second half strolls along and says "im going to make your life hell just to spite you"

character info below the cut

reptaniel: snake oil peddler who sneaks back into town every so often, usually with new disguises and new oil. hated by all but begrudgingly tolerated, at least to some extent.

farewell: reverend who has almost completely lost their mind. their sermons often go entirely off the rails and too emotional for their own good.

b.e. dead: saloon’s piano player. also reanimated by danny; this was by b.e. alive’s request, as he wanted to see his brother again. pay varies from leftover booze to common findings of an ofrenda.

yo-cat: saloon owner and asshole bartender. known to chase people out with brooms, especially reptaniel. makes all of the alcohol served right in his backyard (or possibly his bathtub).

b.e. alive: skeleton reanimated by danny during a time he was seeking companionship. danny sort of pretends b. alive is so-lo sometimes because he misses "the old so-lo."

danny: sheriff of the town with a secret or two up his sleeve. necromancer, doctor with the mystic remedies that don’t seem like they’d work (but they do!)

so-lo: notorious outlaw currently wreaking havoc on the town. came to find danny and maybe reconcile with him; after seeing that he “lost the juice” so-lo made it his mission to piss him off.

julie: like an avon lady if avon was a thing back in the old west. makes all the makeup she sells herself; mostly uses the door-to-door method to hang out with princess and mary.

johnny: former ruffian, current stable master. quite handy with farm equipment in the ways they’re supposed to be used, as well as the ways they’re really not. hesitant to use guns.

louis: resident barn cat. johnny’s since he was a kid.

patty: works at the general store. resident damsel-in-distress. often finds herself tied to train tracks. may secretly be a part of the outlaw gang, but who’s to say? johnny and julie's caretaker.

mary: teacher at the town's one-room schoolhouse. had her eyesight removed by farewell when she was younger for refusing to use her powers for their purposes.

peter: just a kid. like, literally just someone's kid. nobody knows who they belong to. babysat by most of the trusted adults in town.

fred: farmer and so-lo’s right hand man. mostly puts up with his antics, but when they go from being harmless fun to hurting others he puts his foot down.

princess: the one really running the whole place. a bit spoiled, but she doesn’t mind. has dirt on everyone in town, and if she doesn’t have it on you she’ll find it.

satan: mayor of the town, though he doesn’t seem to really do much. more often than not is drunk off of his ass. spoils and pampers his wife like crazy.

mr. vator: mysterious railyard investor. supposedly loaded. might be in kahoots with johnny!? (gasp!)

w.y. stay: traveling salesman usually with all sorts of odd wares in stock. brings things to the town that none of its residents have ever seen before.

#audience of approximately four #oingo boingo #oingo boingo fanart #danny elfman #art #digital art #character design #western au #western #wild west #boingoverse #water au

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bauhaus-bae · 2 months

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You doin TikTok trends to aot men:

(my favs)

Requests are open<3

Ft. The Blonde Brigade (Armin, Reiner, Jean)

No nsfw!! Some affectionate smooches is all and some gut wrenching, toe curling fluff.

Set in the current year!!

——————————— ———————————

ARMIN ARLERT: Ignore your bf and see what he does<3

“Y/n~” Armin was giddy coming through the door of your home “I brought you snacks and extra blankets!”

You smiled running to greet him at the door “Aww, you didn’t have to bring all this! I told you I could handle it!” He rolls his eyes placing the snacks on the table throwing the blankets on the couch. “Just shut up and accept my kindness, y/n!” He tackles you with a barrage of tickles and kisses until you’re laughing, gasping for air.

What a punk! You needed to get back at him for being so rude with his words, but oh what to do!

Just then you remembered a stupid little video you had seen earlier: You were going to ignore Armin!

That you did, and a little too well if he’d say so himself. Every time he tried to talk to you or grab your attention you went the other way. It was starting to make him mad.

“My love” he spoke in a song-like voice “Why are you being so quiet?”

Silence.

“Y/n. Why are you ignoring me?”

Must resist.

“Ok so I guess you wouldn’t mind if I ate all of your snacks.”

Your head dramatically turned in his direction “Don’t. You. Dare.” He beamed towards you grabbing one by one “Armin!” He giggled handing you one “That’s all you get. You deserve this for ignoring me.”

Your mouth falls wide open as you watch him. Is he being serious right now? Unfortunately, you couldn’t argue because he was right. So instead you ignored him for real.

———————————————————————

Reiner Braun: Kiss your best friend<3

You and Reiner were best friends, practically inseparable all throughout your childhood. So, when you came across a silly little trend you just knew you had to try it out! Especially since it’d help you confess your feelings to him.

“Reiner!” He looked in your direction his face unmoving. Most people would think he’s a jerk but, he’s just a little more private with his feelings, especially about his friends. He wouldn’t want you getting hurt now would he?

The two of you met up as usual going on about anything and everything until you ended up at his house, in his room, on his bed, watching TikTok cuddled up together. Your heads were put together you curled up by his side as he held the phone. He was currently laughing at some video of a cat arguing with its owner or something.

You seized the opportunity and brought your lips to his.

He was still for a moment before gently grabbing onto the back of your neck pulling you closer towards him. It was almost like a hungry animal.

“Y/n..” he breathily whispered “Reiner..”

He was holding onto you like his life depended on it. “I’m going to kiss you again is that’s ok..” you were a flustered mess nodding your head yes.

It was definitely ok.

———————————————————————

Jean Kirstein: Calling him bro<3

You were currently sat in your room upstairs waiting on your bf, Jean, to come home. You had been together for 4 years today and wanted to do something special, it was your anniversary after all.

He told you to wait and close your eyes when he came in so you knew it’d be a surprise.

“Honey,” he yelled through the door “I’m home!”

You held your hand over your eyes waiting for him to meet you upstairs “Can I open them now?” He laughed saying yes.

You opened your eyes only to be met with the most beautiful bouquet of pinky-red flowers covered in glitter.

“Babe..” he blushed pushing them further in your direction “Happy four years my love, I bought one for every day I realized how lucky I was to be in your life, to call you mine.”

You were behind tears, you couldn’t function. How did you end up with such a sweet man?

Better question is, how did he end up with such a troublesome girl?

“Oh my god bro, you’re so sweet!” He stops in his tracks raising a brow, maybe it just slipped. “I also got you this-” he stops pilling a mini bouquet of your favorite plush’s from behind the bigger bouquet.

“Thanks bro, I can’t believe you did all this!”

He clicked his tongue holding the bouquets over the railing of the stairs, you done made him mad.

“Girl stop playin, call me bro again” he sent you a playful glare almost begging you to say it “I bet you won’t”

Luckily, his girlfriend was just the cutest little thing ever!

“Bro you don’t have— NO!” He pretends to drop the flowers off the staircase laughing as your face twists to one of horror. “Jean, you asshole!”

He laughs walking towards your room setting the flowers on the bed “Oh darling you started it!”

You just laughed pulling him into a hug “You’re lucky I like you..bro.” He scoffed squeezing you tighter.

“I’ll fix that ‘bro’ situation later, for now let’s go to dinner.”

It’s safe to say dinner was great and you didn’t get thrown off the balcony of your house.

MASTERLIST

Requests can be made on the masterlist<3

#aot #attack on titan #reiner braun #armin arlert #jean kirstein #x plus size reader #x black fem reader #x fem reader #boyfriend scenarios #anime x reader #armin x reader #Reiner x chubby reader #Jean x reader #aot x black reader #aot x chubby reader #aot x reader #aot x poc!reader

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earl-grey-teacake · 25 days

Text

Dragon Rider AU- Hertwood

AO3 is down so I am coping. This is a really quick snippet I wrote before bed.

Inspired off of my F1 dragon rider AU- I bring you Indycar.

********

Colton watched as Kyle applied ointment onto the pink scales of his dragon, Kunzite. A tall pink dragons with scales, horns, and leather wings and a white underbelly, Kunzite was quite pretty but also surprisingly clumsy when not racing. The poor thing was being given a bath when it slipped and hit its chin on the tub, which explained why Kyle had Kunzite's head on his lap as he tired to sooth the violent bruise forming.

"Oh, it's okay. I know it hurts but it'll go away soon." Kyle brushed his hand along the scales.

"Murrr" The dragon complained like an annoyed house cat.

"You'll just have to be careful next time." Kyle placed gauze and bandage on it so Kunzite wouldn't lick the ointment off before stepping away to rearrange the contents of the stall. Soft blankets, pillows, large plushies imported from Japan because apparently the Kunzite did not care for American-made stuffed animals- everything to make the poor injured, clumsy dragon as comfortable as possible.

There was a kindness, a love in the way Kyle doted on his dragon. Kunzite didn't enjoy rough-housing like some other dragon's did with their drivers, instead, it was perfectly content being spoiled and treated like a child. Colton has seen Kyle make a 1-hour trip to get the perfect cut of meat for dinner because the dragon was just that picky and wake up in the middle of the night like a worried, first time parent, to see if the thunderstorm had woken the creature up despite being in his pajamas.

Colton felt a nudge as he leaned against the stable walls. His own dragon has decided to poke his head out and see why his owner had not immediately returned to the motorhome and gone to bed. Following his owner's line of sight, the dragon had a mischievous glint in its eyes before nudging him again with its curved horns.

"Go to bed." Colton playfully glared. "You made such a fuss about wanting to go to bed so go to sleep already."

The dragon grinned before throwing its head dramatically against the pillow, causing Colton to roll his eyes.

"Good night, Kunzite," Kyle sang as his gave the dragon a hug and closed the stable gates.

Turning around, he made his way to Colton, still a beam of sunshine despite the scare earlier. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, was waiting on you." Colton stood up and was ready to walk out before-

"Oh, were you not sleeping Arietis?" Colton's dragon had gently nipped at Kyle's jacket preventing him to leave. The all-black dragon had veins of gold running across the scales and two pairs on horn, one curved like a ram and the standard ones that traveled back across the head.

"Arietis, I put you to bed already. Go to bed." Colton scolded. The dragon had made such a big deal about not going to bed 2 hours ago and now it was preventing Colton from going to bed.

"Aww, do you not want to go to bed?" Kyle cooed and rubbed its forehead.

"He wanted to go to bed earlier. He's just being a brat right now." Colton complained.

"Murrr…" Arietis pulled at Kyle's jacket.

"He's just sad you're leaving. That's all." Colton's annoyed expression morphed into a glare as his dragon revealed as mischievous smirk when Kyle hugged the its head and gave little scratches behind the horns.

You wished this was you, don't you.

Colton's expression back sent the message "Keep this up and no beef for breakfast"

"Come on now, off to bed" Kyle coaxed as the dragon drew back and laid its head on the soft pillows. "Good night, Arietis."

The dragon responded with a soft purr and the two drivers quickly rushed out.

"Sorry I took so long, you know how Kunzite is."

"No, I should be apologizing for Arietis's behavior."

"Oh, it's no problem. He's a cutie." Kyle laughed. "Thank you for letting me stay at your motorhome again."

"Of course, anytime." Colton smiled.

"Are you sure you don't find it annoying? You don't have a separate bed so we have to share one. I don't want to ruin your sleep."

"I sleep perfectly fine." Colton was thankful that the night hid the blush creeping on his face.

********

Let me know what you think🥰

Kunzite- a pink or violet gemstone, it was discovered in Pala, CA. Which is about an hour and a half away from Long Beach.

Arietis- latin word for "ram" and refers to the constellation Aries. The dragon is black and gold like trails of stars in the night sky. The constellation is associate with the golden fleece of Greek mythology and Ra in Egyptian mythology. This is mainly influenced by my belief that Colton had a mythology phase as a kid and ran with it when he got his dragon.

#indycar rpf #indycar fanfic #indycar fic #hertwood #colton herta #kyle kirkwood #dragon rider au #racing dragon au

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quinnkasih · 2 years

Text

"Christmast With The Grumpy Cat!"

Christmast Special Chapter

cat!scara x collegestudent!fem!reader

SYNOPSIS

Scara lives with you. He thought that his fur is enough to warm him up from the cold, unfortunately not. He needs your help with warming up!

A/N

This is basically cuddling with scara through the cold 😭 i dont really like my writing here but i hope you enjoy it <3

WARNINGS

Cat scara has feelings for y/n his owner (he is in his cat form just to get your affection <3), very rushed!

CHRISTMAST SPECIAL MASTERLIST

| next

"KITTY CAT" MASTERLIST

previous | next

It was cold outside, winter has come by! Your campus is quite busy preparing lots of fun events, for the teachers or students.

These circumstances holds you away from home. Or even when you are at home, it wouldnt be long.

Scara, your cat, doesnt seem to notice this, that you are preparing for christmast. He thinks that you are always not home because you hate him or you are enjoying christmast with someone else and not him.

He has to do something to get your attention.

But he doesnt want to seem desperate and needy..

How?

That is what he is thinking now.

Alone at home, a young male figure is plopped down on your couch. He has this weird cat ears and cat tail. His cat ears were down, as he was deep in his thoughts. A frown was on his face, gazing nowhere.

Suddenly, a groan erupted from the male. His hands were on both sides of his head as like a frustrated manner.

He muttered a few curse words as he straightened his pose.

He always admitted that he doesnt enjoy your presence (of course you wont understand because its just "meow"-s), but, why does he wants you here..?

Thats weird coming from him.

His ego always takes over him and would make him say harsh words at you which he didnt actually mean. (again, it would only be harsh "meow"-s).

Footsteps could be heard from the other side of the apartement door, surprising Scara.

With a "poof", he was back in his cat form.

He would be in his human form when you aren't home.

And yes, he never showed you himself in his human form. Just because he doesnt want to confuse you and make you uncomfortable.

He thinks that, a female and a human cat male? Living together? Many things could go wrong!

But wait.. Why is he thinking dirty stuffs about you and him??!

Despite in his cat form, you could still see the obvious flustered face. His cat ears are risen up and his tail was straightened.

He was very flustered, until he forgot that you were coming home. His thoughts were cutted off with a door creaking sound and a large rectangular box you are holding bumping against the door frame.

"Ahh! This is so stressful!" You complainted.

This piqued his attention. His head turned to look at you who was having trouble with bringing the large rectangular box inside.

He really wanted to help.

But what could a small cat do?

Even if he tried to help, it would only be a trouble-making in your eyes.

The only way he could help, is to turn into his human form and help you lift it.

But of course he couldnt do that.

Eh whatever you managed to bring the box in anyways, its already late for him to help.

...

'Ahh..'

After awhile he realizes that you are making a medium sized artificial tree for christmast.

"Haa finally finish! First time having christmast alone" You dusted off your hands and place it on your hips.

You turned to look at Scara who was staring at you with a small frown. He seems to want you to notice something.

"Okay, maybe with Scara" You cleared your words.

His small frown then turned to his normal cocky expression.

You giggled at his behavior and joined him on the couch.

"I'll just decorate it later, Im tired" You exclaimed as you straightened your back on the couch.

It was really cold outside, really. The cold is already freezing you, then you are tired? You should really get a rest.

You stand up to turn on the heater, you are already wearing your sweaters. Yet, the cold isnt dying down.

After turning the heater on, you headed back to the couch and plopped yourself down on the couch.

You turned on the tv.

...

Its been awhile, yet he hasnt receive any of his usual head strokes and hugs. Tho he would never admit, he was actually waiting for it. Especially these times where it is cold.

He'd be lying if he said that he isnt cold. Even he tried to snuck in the blanket you are using to get warm. And to get your attention.

But why wont you notice??!

Does he really have to snuck his head under the palm of your hand like a desperate and needy cat? Does he have to give small licks on the back of your hand? He would never do that!

'...'

Why arent you noticing this?

Look, he even tried to act cute! Like kneading the blanket, just to get your attention.

Are you that focused on the tv?

Or are you that tired?

'..maybe its best not to bother you now..' He thought.

...

It was midnight, you fell asleep on the couch.

The tv was still turned on, noisy tv shows filling the background as you woke up.

Your hair is messy, the blanket is off your body, the palm of your hands are freezing, as well as your feet.

With a slightly blurry vision, you whipped your head towards the clock to check the time. It was very late, 01.34 am.

(Its basically that feeling and situation where you woke up from a late afternoon nap in the middle of the night)

Feeling some weight on your forearm, your attention turned to it.

There on your forearm Scara hanged with his small kitten hands holding onto your forearm. He was so close to slipping off. His small cat body was shivering from the cold.

You quickly got him off your forearm, carrying his fragile body to your bedroom where it is much more warmer.

Both of you moved to your bedroom, not forgetting your blanket.

Entering your bedroom, you noticed that your bed was still tidy, untouched since the morning where you last clean it. Great, you could just jump to bed comfortably now.

The both of you got in bed as you pulled up the blankets against you two.

Scara shifted comfortably, trying to adapt the new feeling of the surface. Upon doing it so, his eyes slightly opened, seeing you on your side facing him.

The distance between eachother's faces was so close. If he were to be in his human form at this situation, he could just close the gap between eachother's lips by shifting to the front slightly.

His thankful thoughts were cutted by your touch as you pulled him into a warm hug.

You rested your head on the crown of his head, between his cat ears, it felt a little bit ticklish. You did this slowly, not wanting to crush him below you.

You were fast to fall asleep.

Meanwhile Scara who was bellow you, facing your neck, was blushing hard.

He doesnt feel cold anymore, he feels very warm. And happy.

He is happy, very happy.

It was usual for the two of you to sleep together. But never like this, not this close.

He was too happy by now to even fall asleep.

He just hopes that this moment will once happen again someday. And better, in his human form <3

CHRISTMAST SPECIAL TAGLIST (request on the christmast special masterlist's reply section!)

@midoriapologist

"KITTY CAT" TAGLIST

@dee-zbignuts @cr4ftingtable @lxry-chxn @cherricoladrink @scrmgf @ember-is-clueless @butterandbeans @lilias-spouse @crinklypink @nemesis1ofdark @sukunasin @wisteriaflowersss @louise-rosita-leroux @thetwinkims @koi-chairowo @grimreapersscythe @eimuros @kaoyamamegami @meowlumi @crazypriestess @g0re-h0und @ssilentblackyt @blurr3db3rry @blvdmrcnry @toriiee @lycheemouse @valiryyz @nejibot @pheebbbs @lovely-scaramouchie

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k-nayee · 5 months

Text

Damn, Forreal? JJK

wc: 3.6k

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The day was perfect.

Sun shined bright, casting a beautiful glow over the buildings as a carnival took place in the rural town.

And as event was in full swing, streets filled with laughter and joyous sounds of celebration down below; a high-stakes game of cat and mouse played out on the rooftops above.

The trio first-years of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College (more commonly known as Tokyo Jujutsu High) moved with precision as they attempted to retrieve a finger of Sukuna that's been recently located.

What made the task easy also made it difficult, especially when the finger's presence led to the unwanted attention of nearby curses due to its dark power.

It's a battle of fierce clash, each side fighting with such ferocity it made the very air around crackle with energy.

"Itadori!"

The vessel for the King of Curses was already a step ahead, focus zeroed in on a particular curse holding their given target tightly in its grasp.

With a burst of speed, he closes the distance and lands a solid punch just as it was about to swallow the finger.

The direct hit sends the creature stumbling. Its grip loosening enough to allow Itadori to leap up and grab ahold of the ancient relic.

"I got it!!!" he yells triumphantly, holding up the cursed object with a grin.

But victory was short-lived.

Recovering quicker than anticipated, the curse charges and ram into the teen's chest.

The impact sends him reeling, doubling over with hacking coughs as the precious finger slipped from his grasp and went flying through the air.

Nobara cackles at the sight before exercising the offending curse with practiced ease. "You had one job and blew it! Way to go."

Megumi, ever the stoic and aloof teammate, cast a worried glance in Itadori's direction. "Are you okay?!"

His call for concern is received with a thumbs-up and the pinkette's bright (albeit slightly embarrassed) smile.

"Y-yeah, I'm good!" light brown eyes light up upon spotting the dropped finger rolling away...

"Ah! There it is!"

...right off the edge of the building and into the bustling streets below.

He felt it before he saw it.

Looking up, Itadori's met the deadpanned gazes of Megumi and Nobara causing him to release a sheepish cough "Hee Hee...my bad."

Amid the vibrancy of the carnival stood a corn-dog stand.

The owner?

A sweet old man, whose face, even when marked by the creases and wrinkles of time, still held a spirited smile of youth.

His withered hands worked mechanically: dipping and frying, serving and greeting. A cycle he never tire of, always feeling as if his first day on the job.

Despite the dimming of his vision over the years, his other senses had heightened enough that the joyous sounds of families and the sweet smell of treats in the air painted a picture his eyes no longer could give...

"Thank you, Ojiisan!"

The chirping, cheerful voice brings a warm smile to his face as he turns toward the young customer.

"You're welcome! Happy to please~" Prepared by memory and touch, he carefully offers the freshly made corndog into the giddy anticipated hands of the little girl.

Her mother, watching the entire exchange, pays him with a warm grin of her own. "Thank you once again! Will you be here later? She just love your corndogs!"

"Glad you like them," he responds, tipping his faded hat at her flattering words in gratitude. "But yes, I'll still be here in the park. Tend to rotate every hour or two for better coverage! Gotta make sure everyone gets a taste of these beauts!"

Just as he gives the aging but sturdy cart a playful pat, a soft chime interrupts the moment.

Feeling his pockets for a moment, the old man pulls out a pocket watch before flashing the vintage item to them. "Looks like it's time to do just that..."

As they prepared to part ways, the little girl suddenly stops when her attention is caught—not by the watch, but by something else within the cart.

"What's that?" she asks, pointing a corn-dog-greased finger towards the numerous pieces of papers that basically covered the entire cart.

"That?" he echo, following her line of inquiry.

His heart swell with emotions when his fingertips gently brush along crinkled edges that harbored a world of memories.

"Ah, these are very special papers," he began, voice taking a softer, more nostalgic tone. "It is a gift from someone very dear to me—my granddaughter."

The mother paused, her interest in the conversation evident by the ensuing silence. She gives a smile and gentle nod, prompting him to continue.

"Quite the remarkable young lady; so strong and kind-hearted. Not around much these days though. Off making the world a better place in her own way..." he shares, pride twinkling within his murky eyes. "Before she left, she gave me those protective talismans. Said it would keep me safe from harm."

Fueled by imagination, the little girl leans closer, eyes wide with wonder. "Like...magic?" she whisper conspiratorially, captivated by the notion.

"Just like magic," he confirms with a chuckle. "Might not understand all that sorcerer stuff, but I do know it's her way of looking after me. And with these old eyes not being what they used to be, this little charm makes me feel safe...like she's still with me watching over my stand even when far away."

Satisfied with the tale and now fully focused on the treat in her hand, the child takes a hearty bite of her corndog causing the two adults around to laugh.

With one final nod of farewell, the woman ushers her daughter back into the carnival's lively embrace, leaving the old man alone with his thoughts.

As he watched their blurry figures merge into the crowd, a bittersweet feeling washed over him. They reminded him of his own family—his late daughter and the granddaughter he cherished.

Shaking off the memories, he began packing up his cart, preparing for the move. Methodically securing the lids on the condiment jars, he—

thump

The old man pauses. The sound was soft, easily missed to the average person amidst the carnival's bustling setting.

But to his trained ear, it was clear as day.

Hands hovering over a jar of mustard, his head slightly tilts, listening for any follow-up noises that might explain the oddity.

Hearing nothing more, he lets curiosity win and investigate. He steps slowly around the cart, his aging eyes scanning the countertops.

In the dimming light it was hard to make out its details, but he managed to see a cylinder-like object lying on the edge of the cart.

"Hmm, what's this now?" he muttered under his breath, leaning over cautiously to get a closer look.

Though his eyes was not as sharp as they used to be, it...almost looked like a....hotdog?

Then again, it wasn’t uncommon for things to get a bit jumbled during the busy hours—'must've accidentally left it out.'

"Welp. Can't waste good food," he lightly hums, body moving instinctively to retrieved to still salvageable food; the waste not, want not mentality flaring in his mind.

With a gentle hand, he picks up the object. It felt slightly heavier than a typical hotdog, its texture more leathery than smooth.

He brushes the differences off; attributing it to being overexposed to heat.

Skewering it onto a wooden stick without much thought, he places the hotdog back into the heater next to the others immediately disappearing from sight—and, unbeknownst to him, from the world of Jujutsu sorcerers.

As the door of the hotbox clanged shut, the talismans around it unknowingly casted a veil over the finger, shielding it from magical detection.

Humming a tune from his youth, the old man pushed his cart to the next location with a smile; blissfully unaware of the chaos his simple action had caused.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

"Look at this place!" Adora exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Where should we go next?!"

You followed her gaze, taking in the vibrant lights, the colorful booths, and the enticing aromas wafting through the air.

Hours of getting on kiddie rides and walking around and you still haven't gotten enough of it all.

"Bubba! What do you think of the carnival?" you glance down at your brother, whom you affectionately call Bubba (and he mimics back to you), as he's strapped to your chest in a baby carrier.

The toddler looks around with wide, curious eyes, soaking in the lively scene.

"Carni fun!" He babbles, clapping his hands before reaching out to grab at the colorful lights and towering rides.

Adora face flushes as she coos at his reaction. "He's loving this! You made a great choice bringing him along."

As you weave through the crowd, Bubba cutely announces "Hung'y! Wanna eat!" His small fist tugging at your shirt with growing impatience.

Laughing at his sudden proclamation, you looked at Adora with a shrug. "Time for a food break, I guess?"

Adora nods, eyes scanning the rows of food stands.

"There’s a corndog stand just over there. Looks like they’ve got the good, old-fashioned kind," she says, pointing towards the stand with a grin.

You all make your way to the corndog stand, where the scent of fried batter and sweet mustard fills the air.

The old man behind the counter, still humming to himself, turns with a welcoming smile as you approach. "Hello there! What can I serve you today?"

"We'll have two corndogs," Adora says as she hand over some cash, Bubba excitedly echoing her with a cheerful "Two!"

With a nod the old man, movements slow but precise, prepares your order. He opens the hotbox, pulling out three prepared hotdogs on a skewer.

As he dips them into the cornmeal batter, you can't help but notice a subtle tension in the air—almost as if a wave of electricity washed over the carnival.

You break out of your trance with a nudge from Adora, her smug faced expression coming to view. "Betcha you glad I got your ass up and came out today. Great break from everything...its giving best friend of the year."

Your eyes roll at her antics, instead focusing on Bubba's gibberish with a smile. "I guess you did do your one this time. But seriously though, thanks for dragging us out."

"Anytime! What are besties for?"

Corndogs fried to a golden crisp, the old man hands them over with a bright grin. "Here you youngin's go. Enjoy the carnival~"

You break a piece of bread from the corndog off, giving the toddler something small to digest while keeping the hotdog portion for yourself.

Seizing the moment for a bit of fun, Adora holds up her corndog with a mischievous smile.

"Let's see who can eat theirs the fastest! Loser has to ride the Nightmare Drop," she challenges, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Bubba gleefully eats what's in his hand, slobbering and chewing messily at the bread.

You agree with a laugh, raising your own corndog. "You’re on."

With that, the both of you quickly bring the corndogs to your mouths and start eating as fast as possible. You’re halfway through, about to take another giant bite, when suddenly, a darkness paints the sky.

The crowd murmurs in confusion as people glance upwards, bewildered at how it could be dark in the middle of the day.

Just as you turn to Adora with questions in your eyes, the ground beneath you shakes violently.

An explosion rocks the carnival, sending shockwaves through the crowd. People start running, scattering in every direction as the festive atmosphere turns to one of fear and panic.

You instinctively clutch Bubba closer to your chest as Adora grips your arm. "What's going on?!" she yells over the cacophony of terrified screams.

"Stay close!" you shout back, pulling her towards what you hope will be a safer spot, away from the frenzied crowd.

People scream as terrifying creatures began to materialize from thin air, their hideous forms sending waves of panic through the carnival.

You and Adora are frozen in fear, wide eyes taking in the otherworldly sight as chaos swirled around.

It wasn't until Bubba’s frightened cries did you snapped out it and you started moving, dragging Adora with you once again.

A towering monster comes into view. Its grotesque form swatting away nearby people like flies when it suddenly began to lumber closer.

Realizing it was targeting your group, you quickly unstrap Bubba from your chest harness and usher the 2 year old to hide behind some nearby rubble.

"Stay right there, Bubba. Don't come out until I tell you!" you whisper, a pang of guilt piercing your chest as you leave him trembling but safe.

It’s just you and Adora now, with the cursed creature looming before you.

Despite being shaky and on the verge of tears, you couldn't help but mutter a small joke. "Damn… I didn't even get a chance to finish my corndog."

Adora turns her gaze to you, frustration and fear written on her face. "Are you shitting me-no you know what? Gone head do it now...might as well have your last fucking supper!"

Voices cut through the panic.

"Where is it, Itadori?!" "It's close… right here!"

Megumi and Itadori appear on the scene, their faces tense as they survey the battlefield. Their eyes land on the curse's raised hand before flickering to you standing there with the half-eaten corndog in hand.

You lift the half-eaten corndog to the sky with a sigh as if giving a grim toast. Biting down, you accept your fate with a swallow.

Megumi’s eyes widen in horror just as the curse's hand swings down to crush you and Adora.

"WAIT NO!" he screams, "STO—"

An explosion of cursed energy fills the air, blowing the creature's arm off in a burst of smoke and twisted energy.

The curse bellows out in pain, retreating a few steps as it clutches the bleeding stump. Dust swirls around the scene, cloaking everyone in a gray haze.

As the smoke clears, Megumi and Itadori’s faces twist into expressions of shock and confusion.

There you stand, unscathed, as black markings crawl along your brown face. An unsettling gleam fills your eyes, their once striking silver shifting into a deadly blood red.

Your lips curl as a sultry and sadistic laugh erupts from your mouth, echoing through the suddenly still air.

"AHAHAHA! Finally!" you exclaim, looking down at your hands with glee. "Not the form I'd originally want, but I'll take this over being imprisoned in that brat’s body any day."

Megumi stares, frozen in shock and disbelief. "Oh…"

Itadori watches in stunned silence as the mouth on his cheek, belonging to Sukuna, widens into a big malicious grin. "Shit."

Sukuna's mouth twists into a sinister smirk, the cruel joy unmistakable. "Looks like there was someone else who could survive my power after all."

"Now, all I need to do is kill and absorb that brat's body," you say, pointing at a shocked Itadori, "find the rest of my fingers, regain my full power, and take over this pathetic planet just as I was supposed to thousands of years ago!"

Adora stands frozen, disbelief etched across her face before anger breaks her out of it. "____ are you high? W-what the FUCK are you going on about?!"

Your red eyes snap to her, causing the girl to cower at the weight of your gaze.

Your lips spread into a wicked grin, sharp canines poking out. You raise your hand menacingly. "Perfect. I needed some blood to be spilled anyways… starting to feel like I’m getting too soft."

Just as you're about to swipe at her, Itadori leaps forward and kicks you away. He lands in front of Adora, fists clenched and jaw set.

"Come on, Megumi! We have to stop him before he goes on a rampage." He glances at you, his fist raised in determination. "We got this."

"Ugh… w-we… don’t got this…" Itadori groans as he struggles to his feet, his breath labored and bruises already forming.

Right beside him laid a bloodied Megumi, barely able to lift his head.

You stride over to them, grabbing both by the collars and hauling them up like grocery bags. They groan at the movement, their faces twisted in pain.

You look at them with a pout, mockingly inspecting them like produce in a store.

"Not bad," you say before your playful demeanor drops with a sneer, "but not good enough."

Then, with a vicious kick, you send them flying across the dirt. The two boys land painfully, rolling to a stop as they clutch their sides and gasp for breath.

It was then at that moment Gojo and Nobara finally appear.

"So... what's the damage?" Gojo asks, immediately whipping out his phone and pointing it at the battered faces of Megumi and Itadori. He snaps a few quick photos, his smile unwavering.

"Man, you guys are really messed up....the second years would love to see this! Hey Nobara, get in on this!"

"Ain't gotta tell me twice!" Nobara exclaims, squeezing between the injured duo and holding up bunny signs behind their heads with a bright grin much to Megumi’s annoyance.

His eyebrows twitch with irritation as he tries to scowl, but his battered body protests. Had he not been too injured to move, he would swear his foot would be so far up Gojo's a—

"So... did you find it?" Gojo asks casually, seemingly unconcerned about the state of his students.

Then, Megumi does something he's never done before in all the years Gojo has been his guardian: he sheepishly avoids the snow-white haired male's gaze, his lips pursed in a silent refusal to speak.

Gojo was too stunned to speak.

It wasn't until the nervous um of Itadori did the teacher break out of his shock and finally face the pinkette.

"Yes, Itadori? Do you know where the finger is?"

The first-year nervously and points a finger at you. "She… she… ate it."

"...."

"For real?" Both Gojo and Nobara ask simultaneously, their faces deadpanned.

"For real," Itadori and Megumi answer in unison.

Nobara shudders at the thought. "Ew! What the HELL is up with you guys?! First this booger-eater and now her?! What? Does the mf taste like teriyaki jerky or something?!" She sticks her tongue out and gags.

"H-Hey! If you must know, I stopped in middle school!" Itadori snaps back defensively.

"Okay!" Gojo clasps his hands with a strained smile. "First off: eww Itadori. Now! Can we please get back to the problem at hand? Was she able to gain back control from Sukuna?"

Receiving a unified shake of heads, the Limitless user release a sigh.

"...guess he really found the perfect vessel. No strings or restrictions whatsoever," Gojo muses before stretching with a grin. "Welp! I guess it’s time to get a little serious."

Adjusting his blindfold, Gojo steps forward, grin growing wider in excitement. "Not really fond of killing such a pretty lady, but duty calls~"

"Wait, wait, wait... WHAT?! You're gonna kill my best friend? The hell you will!" Adora calls out, her voice cracking, but she still steps forward defiantly.

Gojo tilts his head in confusion. "I'm afraid your best friend is dead. If you haven't noticed, she's no longer in control of her body. So we have to kill her, unless you want Sukuna to kill you."

"Enough of this!" you bellow as the powerful aura around you radiates in a mixture of red and blue. Gojo raises an eyebrow curiously—Sukuna's aura should have been entirely red. "Time to rid myself of you like I should have the first time."

Just as the two of you charge forward, ready to collide, a piercing wail cuts through the air. "BUBBA! BUBBAAAAA!"

Your gaze snaps toward the cry, dodging Gojo's attack you freeze mid-step.

"Bubba? [Brother name]?" The tattoos on your face slowly begin to fade, confusion etching across your features.

A snarl emerges from Itadori's cheek, Sukuna's voice seething with disbelief. "What? NO! IMPOSSIBLE. Not only the brat, but you too?!"

You start looking around frantically, searching for the source of the cry. "[Brother's name]!"

"BUBBAAAA!" The cry rings out again, and your head snaps toward the direction only to see the same curse from earlier, this time holding your little brother as it prepares to swallow him.

Horror washes over your face, and you release a gut-wrenching scream, "[BROTHER NAME]!"

A powerful burst of blue aura explodes around you as you sprint across the ground, leaping up in time to pull your little brother into your arms just as he drops into the curse's mouth.

Your momentum carries both of you down into the gaping jaws, and the curse swallows you whole.

For a moment, silence falls over the scene, everyone trying to process what just happened:

The curse happily rubs its bloated belly, gleefully muttering a "yummy yummy" in satisfaction.

Adora lets out a scream of disbelief, slowly sinking down to the ground in shock.

Itadori, Nobara, and Megumi could only stare, their eyes wide while Gojo scratches the side of his head with a bemused expression. "Well shit...that just happened."

Moments after his words hang in the air, the curse stops moving. Its eyes widen in sudden panic as its body begins to swell uncontrollably.

Right before it bursts, it utters a confused, "Uh wh—"(uh oh).

The curse's body explodes, energy rippling through the area with strong winds. When the dust finally settles, steam rises up from the newly made crater in the ground.

And in the place where the exorcised curse once was stood you, with Bubba securely attached to your chest in his baby strap.

A swirling aura of red and blue surrounds you, one eye glowing crimson while the other shines [eye color].

You look down to see Bubba already gazing up at you, his chubby hands grabbing your face as he coos softly, "Bubba, Bubba."

"Once again... that just fucking happened."

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