#anyways I love how their mask is broken and I feel like that should be more appreciated by people

[leaf-in-a-flower-garden]

I will NOT be learning human anatomy, but I WILL be learning Daleth’s mask’s anatomy

[xxspringmelodyxx]

“𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉…”

┗━⊱ 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 ⊰━┛

⊱ 𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔: 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐, 𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐, 𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒐, 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊 𝑭𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒐, 𝑺𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝑹𝒚𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏 ⊰ wc: 7.0k

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Warnings: Swearing, angst, comfort ⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿

Thank you to another anon for this request! I hope you enjoy! <3333

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Satoru Gojo⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

I sat quietly on the couch, staring at the clock. The day was nearly over, and Satoru still hadn’t mentioned it. My heart ached as I replayed the events of the day in my mind, hoping he would say something—anything—to acknowledge my birthday. But he didn’t. Instead, he went about his usual routine, too busy with his own life to notice how much today meant to me.

When Satoru finally walked into the room, I could barely look at him. Anger, hurt, and disappointment swirled within me. How could he forget? After everything we’ve been through together, how could he overlook something as important as my birthday?

“Hey, baby,” he greeted me with his usual bright smile. “I’m starved. Let’s get something to eat.”

I forced a smile, trying to mask the hurt that was clawing at my chest. “Sure. You go ahead and pick something.”

As we sat at the table later that evening, Satoru was his usual carefree self, talking about his day, his work, and everything else that crossed his mind. But I could barely hear him over the thoughts racing in my head. The man I loved had forgotten my birthday—the one day I had hoped would be special.

That night, as Satoru slept soundly beside me, I lay awake, formulating a plan. If he could forget my birthday, maybe he deserved a taste of his own medicine. Maybe then he’d understand just how much it hurt.

---

A few weeks later, it was Satoru’s birthday. I woke up early, just as I always did, and went about my morning routine. I made breakfast for myself, not bothering to prepare anything for him, and left for work without so much as a “Happy Birthday.”

The entire day, I ignored his texts, his calls, everything. I knew he was probably confused, maybe even hurt, but I didn’t care. Not yet, anyway. This was his punishment.

When I finally returned home that evening, I found Satoru sitting on the couch, a forlorn expression on his face. He didn’t even greet me as I walked in, which was unusual for him.

“baby,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did I… do something wrong?”

I glanced at him, feigning indifference. “Why would you ask that?”

“It’s my birthday,” he said, his eyes searching mine for some sign of affection. “But… you haven’t said anything. You’ve been distant all day.”

I looked away, the memory of my own forgotten birthday fresh in my mind. “Maybe I just didn’t think it was that important.”

His face fell, and I could see the hurt in his eyes. A pang of guilt tugged at my heart, but I pushed it aside. This was what he deserved. He needed to understand.

“I’m sorry, Satoru,” I said, my voice colder than I intended. “But you didn’t think my birthday was important enough to remember, so why should I care about yours?”

His eyes widened as realization dawned on him. “baby… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to forget. I’ve been so caught up with work, but that’s no excuse. I know I hurt you.”

I turned away from him, not wanting to let him see how much his words affected me. “I just wanted you to understand how it felt. To know what it’s like to be forgotten by the person you care about the most.”

Satoru didn’t say anything for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost broken. “I do understand. And I’ll spend every day making it up to you. Just… please don’t shut me out like this. I don’t want to lose you.”

My resolve weakened. I had hurt him, just as he had hurt me, but the satisfaction I thought I would feel wasn’t there. Instead, all I felt was a deep sadness.

“Come with me,” I said quietly, taking his hand and leading him outside.

We walked in silence to a small clearing in the nearby park. The sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the area. I had prepared a simple picnic, just some of Satoru’s favorite foods and a blanket to sit on.

“I didn’t forget your birthday,” I finally admitted, my voice soft. “I just wanted you to know how much it hurt when you forgot mine.”

He looked at the picnic and then at me, his eyes filled with emotion. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling me into a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I returned his embrace. “I know you are. And I forgive you. But you need to understand that it’s not just about the birthday. It’s about making time for each other, about showing that you care, even when life gets busy.”

Satoru nodded, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise I’ll do better. I never want to make you feel like that again.”

We sat together in the fading light, sharing the simple meal I had prepared. There was no need for grand gestures or expensive gifts. All that mattered was that we were together and that we had both learned something valuable.

As the stars began to appear in the night sky, Satoru took my hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Thank you for this,” he said softly. “And happy belated birthday, baby.”

I smiled through my tears, leaning into him. “Happy birthday, Satoru.”

And as we sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, I knew that this was a moment we would never forget.

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Suguru Geto⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

The day had started like any other. I woke up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, the sound of birds chirping outside. I turned over in bed, expecting to feel Suguru’s warmth beside me, but the space was empty. He must have gotten up early, probably to meditate or attend to his responsibilities.

As I got ready for the day, I found myself checking my phone more often than usual. Every time it buzzed, my heart would leap, only to be disappointed by a random notification or message that wasn’t from him. The hours passed, and still nothing. Not a single mention of my birthday.

I tried to push the thoughts away, convincing myself that he was just busy. Suguru always had a lot on his plate, and I didn’t want to be a burden. But as the day wore on, that familiar ache in my chest grew stronger. How could he forget?

It wasn’t until late afternoon when I heard the excited footsteps of Nanako and Mimiko running through the house. They burst into the room, their faces bright with smiles.

“Happy Birthday, mama!” Nanako exclaimed, throwing her arms around me.

“We made you something!” Mimiko added, holding out a small, hand-drawn card filled with colorful hearts and stars.

I smiled, my heart warming at their thoughtfulness. “Thank you, girls. This means so much to me.”

But the warmth quickly faded as reality hit me. They remembered, but Suguru hadn’t. The girls must have noticed the change in my expression because they exchanged worried glances.

“Did… did Suguru say anything?” Nanako asked cautiously.

I shook my head, forcing a smile. “He’s been busy. It’s okay.”

Mimiko frowned, clearly upset. “But it’s your birthday! He’s supposed to know that!”

“It’s not fair,” Nanako agreed, crossing her arms. “He should be here celebrating with you.”

I tried to reassure them, not wanting to dampen their spirits. “It’s fine, really. Sometimes people forget.”

But as I said it, I knew it wasn’t fine. Not really. And I could see that the girls weren’t convinced either.

---

By evening, I had given up on hoping. I found Suguru in the garden, sitting under the large oak tree, his eyes closed in quiet contemplation. He looked peaceful, almost ethereal, as if the worries of the world couldn’t touch him. But I couldn’t share in that peace. Not today.

“Hey,” I called out softly as I approached.

Suguru opened his eyes and smiled up at me. “Hey, you. Come join me.”

I hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside him. We sat in silence for a while, the only sounds around us being the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the city.

“I was thinking we could do something tonight,” he said eventually, turning to me with a gentle expression. “Maybe grab dinner, take a walk, or just stay in and watch something. What do you think?”

My heart sank. Even now, he didn’t realize what today was. “Sure,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “Whatever you want.”

Suguru reached out and took my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “Are you okay? You seem a little… distant.”

Before I could respond, Nanako and Mimiko came rushing into the garden, their expressions a mix of disbelief and frustration.

“Suguru!” Nanako exclaimed, her hands on her hips. “How could you forget Y/N’s birthday?”

Mimiko nodded vigorously, her eyes wide. “We remembered, and we’re just kids!”

Suguru’s eyes widened as the color drained from his face. He looked at me, then back at the girls. “What…? No, I didn’t forget…”

But the truth was written all over his face. He had forgotten.

“Suguru,” I said quietly, pulling my hand from his. “It’s okay. I understand that you’ve been busy.”

“No, it’s not okay,” Nanako insisted, glaring at Suguru. “You need to make this right!”

Suguru looked utterly lost, his usual calm demeanor shattered. “Y/N… I’m so sorry. I’ve been so caught up in everything else, but that’s no excuse. I can’t believe I forgot.”

The girls stood there, arms crossed, waiting for his next move. I could tell they were upset, not just for me, but because they looked up to Suguru so much. He was their protector, their guide—and he had let us all down.

I took a deep breath, feeling the hurt begin to ebb into something more manageable. “Suguru… maybe you should talk to the girls for a bit. I’m going to go for a walk.”

---

The days that followed were a blur of awkward silence and half-hearted attempts at reconciliation. Suguru apologized repeatedly, but something between us had shifted. We still lived together, went through the motions, but it felt different. The warmth, the easy laughter—it all seemed distant.

I could tell he was trying. He left me small gifts, little notes apologizing again, and gestures meant to make up for his forgetfulness, but I wasn’t ready to forgive so easily. Every time I looked at him, I couldn’t help but remember the hurt I felt on my birthday, the sting of being forgotten by the person I loved most.

Instead of dwelling on the pain, I began working on something special. Each time I withdrew from him, it was because I was spending hours in my little crafting corner, crocheting. I decided to create something that would remind him of what mattered most—something that would mean more than words ever could.

I crocheted tiny versions of us: Suguru, me, the girls, and even his beloved dragon. Each doll took hours of painstaking work, and every stitch was filled with the love I still held for him, despite the distance between us. As the days passed and his birthday drew nearer, I worked in secret, pouring my heart into the project.

On the morning of his birthday, I acted as if it were just another day. I made breakfast, but didn’t acknowledge the significance of the date. Suguru watched me, his eyes filled with hope that today would be different, but I remained distant, giving him only short, polite answers to his attempts at conversation.

As the day went on, I could see the realization dawning on him. I wasn’t going to acknowledge his birthday. He tried to mask his disappointment, but it was clear in the way his shoulders slumped, in the way he avoided meeting my gaze.

By evening, Suguru seemed to have given up. He sat on the couch, staring blankly at the television, but not really watching it. The once lively atmosphere in our home had turned somber, filled with unspoken words and lingering tension.

I felt a pang of guilt. This wasn’t how I wanted things to be. I had wanted him to understand, but now I was only adding to the pain. Taking a deep breath, I decided it was time to make things right.

---

“Suguru,” I said softly, approaching him where he sat. He looked up at me, his eyes tired and filled with a mix of emotions—confusion, sadness, and a glimmer of hope.

I began, pulling out a small box. I opened it to reveal the tiny crocheted dolls, each one representing him, me, the girls, and his dragon. His eyes widened in surprise, his breath catching as he took in the sight.

“I didn’t forget your birthday,” I continued, my voice trembling slightly. “Every time I ignored you, I was working on this. I wanted you to have something that would remind you of what’s important—of us, of the family we’ve built.”

Suguru stared at the dolls, his fingers gently brushing over the tiny figures. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked back at me. “Y/N… this is… I don’t even have words. Thank you.”

Before I could say more, I signaled to the girls, who had been hiding nearby. They came out, beaming, carrying a small cake with candles lit. As they started singing "Happy Birthday," Suguru’s face broke into a wide, emotional smile.

The girls’ voices were filled with joy, and as they sang, I could see the weight lifting from Suguru’s shoulders. When they finished, he blew out the candles, and the girls cheered, wrapping their arms around him in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” Suguru whispered to me as the girls giggled and clung to him. “I’m sorry for everything.”

I leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I know, Suguru. I forgive you. Don’t do it again though, or else I’ll never make you crocheted stuff again!” I joke

He nodded, his eyes still misty. “I promise, my dear. I’ll do better. I never want to make you feel like that again.”

As we sat together, sharing the cake and enjoying the night, I felt a sense of peace settle over us. The tension had lifted, replaced by the warmth

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kento Nanami⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

The day Nanami forgot my birthday, I felt the hurt sink deep into my chest, but I didn’t let it show. I had spent the entire day waiting, hoping he would remember—waiting for a text, a call, something to acknowledge the day. But as the hours passed, it became clear that he wasn’t going to.

When he finally got home late that night, he looked exhausted, his usual composed demeanor weighed down by the day’s work. He walked in with a tired smile, greeted me with a kiss on the forehead, and headed straight for the shower without a single mention of my birthday. Not even a glance at the beautifully set table I had prepared or the dinner that was now cold and untouched.

I swallowed the hurt, forcing a smile when he emerged from the shower. I knew that if he didn’t care enough to remember, I wasn’t going to remind him. Instead, I decided I would give him a taste of his own medicine.

The days turned into weeks, and I carried on as if nothing was wrong. I acted like the perfect partner, hiding my disappointment behind a veil of normalcy. I waited patiently, knowing that Nanami’s birthday was approaching, and I had every intention of “accidentally” forgetting it.

When his birthday finally arrived, I made sure to play my part flawlessly. I woke up early, just like any other day, and went about my routine without acknowledging the significance of the date. Nanami, ever the observant one, noticed the lack of celebration. He glanced at me throughout the day, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and disappointment, but he never said a word.

By the time evening rolled around, I could see the weight of the day pressing down on him. But instead of confronting the silence, Nanami buried himself in paperwork, his brow furrowed in concentration. It was clear he was using work as a distraction, trying to avoid the painful realization that I hadn’t acknowledged his birthday.

He sat at the dining table, papers spread out before him, the soft scratching of his pen the only sound in the room. Every so often, he would glance at the empty space where I usually sat, but I stayed in the kitchen, letting the silence speak for itself.

As the night grew late, I knew the lesson had been learned. Nanami’s shoulders were tense, his movements growing slower as the exhaustion and disappointment weighed on him. He looked up as I approached, his eyes weary, filled with a quiet hurt.

“I’m going to the kitchen to grab something,” I said casually, as if the day had been completely ordinary.

He nodded absently, his focus returning to the papers in front of him, though I could see the conflict in his eyes. He was trying to push through the pain, to keep working, but the disappointment was too heavy to ignore.

A few minutes later, I returned with a small cake in one hand and a neatly wrapped gift in the other. Nanami looked up, his pen still in hand, and his eyes widened in surprise as he saw what I was holding.

“Happy Birthday, Kento,” I said softly, placing the cake on the table beside his paperwork.

His expression was a mixture of guilt and relief as he slowly put down his pen. “You… you didn’t forget?”

I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. “No, I didn’t forget. But I wanted you to feel what I felt.”

He stared at the cake and the gift for a long moment before finally meeting my eyes as he was hit with realization. His voice thick with emotion. “I’m…im sorry, honey. I’m so sorry for forgetting yours.”

I sighed, sitting down beside him. “It wasn’t just about forgetting the date, Kento. It’s about feeling like I don’t matter enough to be remembered. That hurts more than anything.”

Nanami reached out and took my hand, his grip firm but gentle. “You do matter. More than anything. I’ve been so consumed with work that I lost sight of what’s truly important. I’ll never let that happen again.”

I smiled, leaning into him as I spoke. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

As we shared the cake and he opened the simple, meaningful gift I had prepared—a reminder of our time together—I could see the relief and determination in his eyes. The tension that had built up over the past few weeks began to dissolve, replaced by a renewed sense of connection between us.

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Choso Kamo⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

It was already midday, and I hadn’t heard a word from Choso. The hours had slipped by with no messages, no calls—nothing to indicate that he remembered what today was. My heart sank a little more with each passing minute, but I tried to push the thoughts away, convincing myself that he was probably busy.

I picked up my phone, deciding to reach out to him instead. Maybe he was planning something and just hadn’t had the chance to text yet.

“Hey, what are you up to today?” I typed, hoping for some sign that he hadn’t completely forgotten.

A few minutes later, his reply came through: “Hanging out with Yuuji! We’re at the arcade right now, having a blast. How about you?”

I stared at the screen, the pit in my stomach growing heavier. He was at the arcade, completely engrossed in his day with Yuuji. And he hadn’t even asked about mine.

“Glad you’re having fun. I’m just relaxing at home,” I replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of my words. I didn’t add anything else, not wanting to come off as passive-aggressive. But it hurt—there was no denying that.

The rest of the day passed slowly. I tried to distract myself with chores, reading, anything to take my mind off the fact that Choso had forgotten. But nothing really worked. The disappointment lingered, gnawing at me with every hour that passed.

By the time evening rolled around, I had resigned myself to the fact that Choso wasn’t going to remember. I decided not to cook anything special; instead, I settled for leftovers from the night before. I sat at the table, eating alone, the quiet of the apartment only amplifying the ache in my chest.

It was well into the night when I finally heard the door open. Choso walked in, his face lit up with a smile as he kicked off his shoes. “Baby, you should’ve come with us! Yuuji and I had the best time today,” he said, his voice full of enthusiasm as he headed toward the kitchen where I was tidying up.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, forcing a smile. “Sounds like you had a great day.”

He nodded, oblivious to my strained tone. “Yeah, we did! We hit up the arcade, grabbed some ramen, and then just wandered around for a bit. I haven’t had a day like this in a long time.”

I turned back to the sink, scrubbing a plate a little harder than necessary. “I’m glad you had fun.”

Choso’s smile faltered as he noticed the tension in my shoulders. He walked over to me, placing a hand on my arm. “Hey… are you okay?”

I shrugged, not trusting myself to speak just yet. I could feel his eyes on me, searching for answers that I wasn’t ready to give.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with concern.

I set the plate down and turned to face him, meeting his gaze head-on. “Choso, do you know what today is?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “Today? Uh… it’s Saturday?”

I sighed, the hurt in my chest expanding. “It’s my birthday, Choso.”

His eyes widened, and the color drained from his face as the realization hit him. “Oh, no…baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I was so caught up with Yuuji that I didn’t even think—”

“You didn’t think,” I repeated, my voice trembling. “You spent the entire day with Yuuji, having fun, while I sat here waiting for you to remember. But you didn’t.”

Choso’s face crumpled with guilt, and he stepped closer, his hands reaching for mine. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I forgot your birthday. I didn’t mean to—”

I pulled away, shaking my head. “It’s like I’m not important enough to be remembered. Like I come second.”

His shoulders sagged, and he looked down at the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not second, baby. You’re everything to me. I just… I messed up. I’m sorry.”

I watched him, my heart heavy with the weight of the day. I knew he hadn’t meant to hurt me, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. “I needed you today, Choso. I needed you to remember.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. And I’ll spend every day making it up to you. I promise.”

For a long moment, we stood there in silence, the words hanging between us. Finally, I sighed, letting some of the tension slip away. “It’s okay,” I said quietly. “But next time, don’t forget.”

Choso looked up at me, his eyes filled with remorse. “I won’t. I promise.”

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as if afraid to let go. I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace soothe some of the hurt. It would take time to fully move past the disappointment, but I knew that we would get there. After all, love isn’t about never making mistakes—it’s about learning from them and growing together.

A few months passed, and Choso’s birthday was just around the corner. Despite his promises to make it up to me, the hurt from my birthday still lingered in the back of my mind. I decided that maybe it was time for him to experience what it felt like to be forgotten—just for a little while.

When his birthday arrived, I played my part perfectly. I woke up early, just like any other day, and went about my routine without acknowledging the significance of the date. Choso seemed puzzled, his eyes flicking toward me with an unspoken question as the morning passed in silence.

Instead of spending the day with him, I made plans to hang out with Shoko. “I’m going out for a bit,” I said casually, grabbing my bag and heading for the door. “Don’t wait up.”

Choso looked at me, his confusion deepening. “Wait, where are you going? It’s—”

“Just meeting Shoko for lunch,” I cut in, my tone light. “I’ll be back later.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I left, closing the door behind me. As I walked to meet Shoko, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. He had no idea what was coming.

Shoko and I spent the day gathering everyone together at the park, making sure everything was set up perfectly for Choso’s surprise party. The weather was perfect—a clear, sunny day with just enough breeze to keep things comfortable. We set up tables under the shade of the trees, decorated with lights and streamers, and laid out blankets on the grass for everyone to sit on.

It was hard to keep the secret, especially when I received a few texts from Choso throughout the day, asking what I was up to and if I was planning anything. I kept my replies vague, letting him stew in the uncertainty.

By evening, the preparations were complete. The park was filled with our friends, all smiling and laughing as they waited for the guest of honor. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, with the smell of grilled food wafting through the air and the sound of children playing in the distance.

I texted Choso one last time, telling him I was on my way back and that I needed him to meet me at the park. He responded quickly, his messages a mix of curiosity and confusion.

When he arrived at the park, he looked around, clearly unsure of what was happening. I walked up to him with a smile, taking his hand and leading him toward the gathering.

As we approached, everyone jumped out from their hiding spots, shouting, “Surprise!”

Choso froze, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him. The park was filled with our friends, all smiling and cheering, the tables laden with food and a cake in the center. Shoko was grinning from ear to ear, clearly enjoying the look of shock on Choso’s face.

“You… you planned all this?” Choso asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

I nodded, unable to suppress my smile. “Happy Birthday, Cho~”

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at me with a mix of awe and guilt. Then, without warning, he pulled me into a tight embrace, holding me as if he never wanted to let go.

“I thought… I thought you forgot,” he whispered against my hair, his voice trembling slightly.

I pulled back just enough to look up at him, my smile softening. “I wanted you to know what it felt like. But I would never forget your birthday, Choso.”

He looked at me, his eyes filled with emotion. “I’m sorry for what happened on your birthday. I’ll never take you for granted again.”

I leaned up to kiss him gently, letting the warmth of his words sink in. “I know you won’t. Now, let’s enjoy your party.”

As we joined our friends in the park and celebrated his birthday, the lingering hurt from my own began to fade away. Choso had learned his lesson, and I knew that our bond was stronger for it. After all, love is about forgiveness, understanding, and sometimes, a little playful revenge.

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Toji Fushiguro⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

It was late, the darkness outside the window deepening with each passing minute. The apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of city life. I sat at the dining table, staring at the cold meal I had prepared hours earlier. The candles had long since burned out, leaving only wisps of smoke and the scent of wax lingering in the air.

Toji was supposed to be home by now. He had left early in the morning for a mission, one of those jobs that could go on indefinitely. I knew how these missions worked—time blurred when he was out there, his focus entirely on the task at hand. But today, of all days, I had hoped he would remember to come home.

As the hours stretched into the night, I finally realized that he wasn’t coming back—not in time to celebrate my birthday, at least. There had been no message, no call, not even a sign that he remembered. The weight of disappointment settled over me like a heavy blanket, and I couldn’t shake it off.

I cleared the table quietly, putting away the untouched food. My movements were slow, almost mechanical, as if any sudden motion might crack the fragile calm I was trying to maintain. I blew out the last candle and headed to bed, my heart heavy with the realization that Toji had forgotten.

When I crawled into bed, the sheets were cold, and the emptiness beside me felt like a void I couldn’t fill. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in my mind. It hurt more than I wanted to admit, but I wasn’t one to dwell on things I couldn’t change.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of the front door creaking open. Toji’s footsteps were heavy, and I could hear the rustle of his clothes as he dropped his gear by the door. He was back, finally.

I stayed in bed, listening as he moved through the apartment, his footsteps hesitant as he approached the bedroom. The door creaked open, and I felt him pause in the doorway.

“You awake?” His voice was low, cautious.

I turned over, meeting his gaze. He looked tired, his clothes rumpled and his eyes slightly red. I nodded, sitting up slowly. “Yeah, I’m awake.”

He came closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t get back sooner. The mission…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“It’s fine,” I replied, my voice steady but distant. “You’re home now.”

Toji studied my face, his brows knitting together in concern. “Did something happen?”

I shook my head, forcing a small smile. “No. Nothing happened.”

He frowned, clearly picking up on the underlying tension. “You sure? You seem… off.”

I didn’t reply immediately, letting the silence stretch between us. Finally, I looked him in the eye. “It was my birthday yesterday.”

Toji blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to realization. He ran a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I completely forgot.”

I nodded, looking down at my hands. “I know. You were busy.”

He reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to forget. You know that, right? I just… I get so caught up in this stuff, and time slips away.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “But it still hurt.”

Toji’s grip tightened slightly, his face clouded with guilt. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”

I met his gaze, my voice calm but firm. “I just…sometimes you need to understand that there are more important things than work. I am grateful for you working, but I’m even more grateful when you spend time with me.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing my words. “You’re right. I’ll do better. I promise.”

The week passed quickly, and soon it was the night before Toji’s birthday. He hadn’t mentioned it once, likely feeling guilty about what had happened on mine. But I had a plan, one that would show him I wasn’t holding a grudge, even if I had been hurt.

On the day of his birthday, Toji left for another short mission, unaware of what I had in store. I spent the day preparing, making sure everything was perfect. I arranged a quiet dinner at a small, secluded cabin outside the city—a place where we could escape from everything and just focus on each other.

—

When he returned that evening, he was not met with your wonderful kisses, or the beautiful sounds of your voice or laughter. It was just empty. Were you ignoring him?

He felt a pang in his chest. He didn’t realize how badly it would impact him to be alone on his birthday. It reminded him of old times.

“Doll? You here?” He asked, his voice filled with desperation. But all he heard was the sounds of the lights buzzing.

He slumped over, feeling his heart ache. Now he knew how you felt, and it was awful. He hated the feeling, but he knew he deserved it. Its all he deserved…

As Toji walked further into your shared home, he found a note on the table with instructions to meet you at the cabin.

You had arranged for a car to take him there, knowing he would be too tired to drive himself.

—

When Toji arrived at the cabin, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The cabin was lit warmly from the inside, a soft glow spilling out onto the porch.

He stepped inside cautiously, calling out my name. “Baby?”

I appeared from the kitchen, smiling softly as I wiped my hands on a towel. “Happy Birthday, Toji.”

His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of the cozy, candle-lit cabin, the table set with a simple but delicious-looking meal. He looked at me, his expression a mix of surprise and gratitude.

“You did all this… for me?” he asked, his voice low.

I nodded, walking over to him. “I did. I wanted to do something special, just for us.”

He reached out, pulling me into his arms, his embrace tight and warm. “I thought… after what happened on your birthday… I didn’t think you’d want to do anything.”

I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “I was hurt, Toji. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I wanted to show you that we can still make time for each other, even when things get tough.”

He nodded, his expression softening as he leaned down to kiss me gently. “Thank you, doll. I needed this. I needed you.”

We spent the evening together, just the two of us, away from the chaos of his work and the pressures of everyday life. As we sat by the fire later that night, Toji pulled me close, his voice soft and sincere.

“I’ll do better,” he promised. “I won’t let work come between us again.”

I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of the fire and the steady beat of his heart. “We’ll be okay, Toji. As long as we have each other, we’ll be okay.”

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Sukuna Ryomen⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

Sukuna was never one to dwell on sentimentality. His world was one of power, control, and dominance. He wasn’t one to coddle or concern himself with trivial matters like birthdays. I knew this about him from the beginning, yet, somehow, a part of me hoped that he would remember—just this once.

The day passed quietly. Sukuna was his usual self—intense, brooding, and wholly consumed by his own thoughts. We spent the day in the manor, a place that felt more like a fortress than a home. The dark halls echoed with silence, the air thick with an unspoken tension.

I had learned long ago not to expect much from Sukuna when it came to displays of affection. But today, of all days, I had hoped for something different. A simple acknowledgment, a word, anything that showed he remembered.

But as the hours slipped by, it became clear that he didn’t. There were no subtle glances, no lingering touches, nothing to suggest that today held any significance for him. The weight of disappointment settled over me like a shadow, growing heavier with each passing minute.

By evening, I had resigned myself to the reality of the situation. Sukuna, the King of Curses, had forgotten my birthday. It shouldn’t have surprised me, yet the sting was still sharp.

I found him in the grand hall, seated on his throne-like chair, lost in thought. His eyes were half-lidded, his expression unreadable as he gazed out into the darkness beyond the windows.

I approached him quietly, my footsteps barely making a sound on the cold stone floor. “Sukuna,” I called out softly, my voice almost lost in the vastness of the hall.

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze slowly shifting to me as if I were an afterthought. “What is it?” he asked, his tone indifferent.

I hesitated for a moment, searching his eyes for any sign of recognition, but there was none. I forced a small smile, trying to hide the disappointment that threatened to spill over. “Nothing. I just wanted to say goodnight.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the change in my demeanor. “Goodnight? Already?”

“Yes,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

He didn’t question me further, simply nodding as he turned his gaze back to the darkness. “Very well.”

I turned and walked away, my heart heavy with unspoken words. As I made my way to the bedroom, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being forgotten, of being insignificant in the eyes of the man I loved.

The next morning, I woke early, my mind already working on what I needed to do. Sukuna’s birthday was in a few days, and while I had initially planned something special, the hurt from yesterday still lingered. I decided to change my approach—he needed to understand what it felt like to be overlooked.

For the next few days, I continued my usual routine, but I was distant. I didn’t linger in the halls where he might pass, didn’t seek him out for our usual conversations. I kept to myself, letting the silence stretch between us.

Sukuna, in his usual manner, didn’t comment on the change. He was too proud, too detached to ask why I was being distant. But I could see the flicker of curiosity in his eyes whenever we crossed paths, the subtle tightening of his jaw when I didn’t engage with him as I normally would.

The day of Sukuna’s birthday arrived, and I played my part perfectly. I went about my tasks as if it were just another day, not once acknowledging the date. I didn’t greet him in the morning, didn’t prepare anything special. I simply acted as if it held no importance at all.

As the hours passed, I could feel the tension growing. Sukuna wasn’t one to show vulnerability, but I knew him well enough to sense the shift in his demeanor. By the time evening rolled around, the air was thick with unspoken words.

I found him in the same grand hall, seated in his usual spot. His gaze was sharper this time, his expression more focused as I approached.

“My pet,” he called out as I entered, his voice carrying a subtle edge.

I paused, meeting his gaze with a calm expression. “Yes?”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’ve been busy.”

“With what?” he demanded, his tone growing sharper.

I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head slightly. “Does it matter?”

His eyes flashed with irritation, and he stood, closing the distance between us in a few quick strides. “You’re hiding something,” he accused, his voice low and dangerous.

I met his gaze evenly, refusing to back down. “Am I?”

His grip on my arm tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to show that he wasn’t pleased. “Yes. You are.”

I sighed softly, letting the silence stretch between us for a moment before finally speaking. “It’s your birthday, Sukuna.”

His eyes widened slightly, the only indication that he was surprised. “You remembered?”

“Of course I did,” I replied, my voice steady. “But you didn’t remember mine.”

Sukuna’s expression darkened, his grip on my arm loosening as he processed my words. For a moment, there was only silence between us, the weight of my statement hanging heavily in the air.

“I…” he began, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

“You forgot,” I continued, my voice soft but firm. “You didn’t even realize what day it was.”

He stared at me, the realization sinking in. For the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or guilt. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

“I didn’t mean to,” he finally said, his voice quieter than usual.

“I know,” I replied, my tone softening. “But it still hurt.”

Sukuna let out a slow breath, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not good at… these things.”

I stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest. “I don’t need grand gestures, Sukuna. I just need to know that I matter to you.”

He looked down at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he finally nodded. “You do. More than you know.”

I smiled slightly, feeling the tension begin to ease. “Then show me. Don’t just say it.”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding again, more firmly this time. “I will.”

That evening, we didn’t have a grand celebration, but we did spend it together. Sukuna, true to his word, made an effort to show me that I mattered. It wasn’t in the form of gifts or elaborate displays of affection—those weren’t his style. But he stayed close, his presence a silent acknowledgment of the mistake he had made.

And as we sat together in the quiet of the night, I realized that, despite his flaws and his pride, Sukuna was capable of learning, of growing. It would take time, but I was willing to be patient. Because love, especially with someone like Sukuna, wasn’t about perfection. It was about understanding, forgiveness, and the small moments where we could find common ground.

[simp4konig]

I'm undecided as to whether or not Nikto would ever show his lover (you) his face willingly — and if so, how he would go about it... 😟❤️‍🩹

I'm torn between him putting it off as long as he can put it off for, so paranoid by the prospect that the sight of his mangled face will repulse you, that it becomes a phobia that his traumatised mind justifies.

Nikto valued you over anything, and should the sight of his face — irreversibly disfigured and ugly — look utterly repulsive and nauseating to you, it would devastate him.

So, with that said, perhaps Nikto would wear the mask always, parting with it never, ever, and refuse to be seen without the reinforced plastic mask strapped tight to his thick skill — with a black balaclava beneath just for safe measure. Only when you'd be soundly asleep would he brush his teeth and wash his face, cursing silently in Russian at the hideous face that stared back at him in the mirror. A stranger who he couldn't recognise.

I doubt he'd be able to raise this with you, and I headcanon that you would feel sheepish to ask. At this rate, he would never, ever take off the mask, for as long as he could help it. And any glimpse of his profile would have been on accident, and a secret that you'd keep to yourself. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never sneak a peek behind the rare door left ajar, closing it quietly for Nikto before he realised his mishap.

Or, Nikto, considered the nobody, no one worthy of your love, thinks that if his stoic personality and traumatised self haven't done enough to drive you away from him, surely the fact that he is an ugly brute ought to do so? Surely you'd come to terms with how he doesn't deserve you, and that you deserve better? Deserve better than a shell of the man that he once was?

Because you were too good to be true. There was no reality in which a sweet little one like you would love this repugnant, disfigured face, even if his dick — miraculously in one piece — satisfied you and the scarred tissue after chemical burns and scars on his body alone weren't a sore sight to begin with. He didn't deserve someone so lovely, so loving, the epitome of beauty. The complete contrast of him.

So, thinking, “Fuck it”, having convinced himself that you'll inevitably leave when you see the face he keeps hidden from view anyways, he rationalises his impulsive action as not prolonging the inevitable. As not getting his hopes up and letting himself be disappointed later when he won't be able to imagine his life without you.

Maybe Nikto would impulsively discard the mask on the ceramic sink after a shower, and exit the bathroom nonchalantly, his expression emotionless and unreadable to conceal the inner turmoil and hurricane of emotions like a whirlwind in his mind, silently awaiting your approval. Maybe Nikto would surprise you by having you in his arms after a long deployment, and catch you off-guard by his face, laid bare for you to see and criticise. Maybe Nikto would ask you to help him paint his eyes with black warpaint, pretending to need help, when in reality it was simply an excuse and a test. To see if his face would shock you.

In any case, whatever the case, Nikto would feign indifference, appearing uncaring, when he was internally in turmoil, a violent storm of emotions like a whirlwind in his mind.

Were you repulsed? Did the scar tissue from chemical burns on one side of his face disgust you? Did that lifted lip — cut when he was tortured — resembling an animal’s snarl make you visibly cringe? Was the hooked nose that had been broken so many times that it was permanently off-center and deformed, the root of his snoring and inability to breathe, make you grimace? What about his crooked teeth? His thin, cracked lips? Those stained, out-of-shape teeth really that bad to look at? The bald patches of closely-cropped, prematurely grey hair on his scalp that would never regrow a full head of hair? The sunken cheeks? The hollow eyes? The slight concave to his jawline?

He noticed the initial wince, the reaction that came instinctively, which hurt regardless, even after having had braced himself for that grimace.

Bozhe. Stop looking at him with sympathy with those earnest eyes. Don't pity him. Don't pity him. Don't pity him.

Yet, when your eyes wouldn't linger on any specific aspect of his face, and you would offer him a smile that reached your eyes, the stormclouds would calm, and the intrusive thoughts slowly dissipate.

TL:DR, either Nikto will never show his face to his lover, or will do so impulsively.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N

Couldn't sleep, so I decided to brainstorm Nikto drabbles 😍😍❣️❣️❣️

My neighbour wouldn't stfu. GOD I hate my street!!!!! 😡😡😡👊👊✊👊👊✊💥💥💥💥💥🥊🥊🥊🥊 (and Linda!!!!!! )

The description of Nikto's face is a compilation of my own headcanons. 🥹 (I want to kiss him SO BAD 😣💔💔💔)

This was going to go in another direction, but I have another Nikto work coming after I realised that I could write a separate ficlet 🤭✨✨

[crypticbunnygirl]

Teasing the shape 

Michael Myers x female!brat!reader

Prompts: “You’re gonna regret that” “I’m screwed” “I’m not done with you, you brought this upon yourself” 

This is my first time writing smut, I am open to constructive criticism! just please be nice! :) 

Warnings: rough sex, light bondage, light dom and sub, bites, bruising, darcyphilla (michael loves to see you cry from overstim), slight breeding kink if you squint real hard, overstimulation, size kink, degradation, dumbifaction (like a few words), micheal gets soft with aftercare, Michael does talk a little but only a few lines 

Words: 1.3k 

Somehow, some way, you had convinced Micheal to let you ride him. He never liked being underneath you, unless he initiated it.  But now, you were straddling him, his mask on the floor. His rough hands on your hips.   “C’mon mikey, lemme tie your hands...it’ll be great.” You state. He gives you a sharp glare.  “Come on! Please!! I’ll make you and buy you lots of sweet things!” You say, trying to get him to cave in on letting you tie his hands to the bedpost.  “Fine, don’t make me regret it.” He mutters, his voice raw and deep. Your heart flutters at his voice. You grab the red rope, and make a knot. A few moments later you sit back, biting your lip at how Micheal looks. You feel his eyes practically burning your skin. “I’m going!” You voice, you knew what that look meant, he’s getting impatient. Micheal had helped you with getting ready to take him. You let out a sigh; no matter how many times you and Michael have had sex, it still takes you a while to get used to him, with you riding him, you can take your time. It helped that he was already erect, you let out a shaky breath and slowly sank onto his cock. You look into his eyes, you know you need to hurry up. He didn't have to say anything for you to understand. You let out another deep breath as you continued to slowly go down on his cock, you could see he was growing impatient when he slammed his hips up, his cock filling you up. You gasped at the sudden fullness. You start to move slowly, bringing your hips back up and down, your hands supporting you. You moved slowly to be a tease. How could you not pass this opportunity to tease him?? You weren’t going to pass this up. So, you start moving, slowly knowing damn well Micheal will make you regret this, but you don’t care. Your right hand goes down to your clit and starts slowly rubbing in a circular motion. “Michael~” You utter.  You know he’s about to snap, the way he’s tugging at the rope. Did you purposefully tie them poorly? Maybe. You continue this slow agonizing pace, for him anyway, you were enjoying this. You continue your motions, feeling pressure build in your abdomen. Micheal was glaring at you. He hated this. He wants you to have your hands tied, with him pounding into you like an animal, and you knew this. This was torture for him, watching you please yourself, with your small hands? Please he could do so much better. He knew what you liked, hell loved in bed. How to get you to cry for him. You close your eyes, basking in the pleasure, the slow sensual pleasure. Suddenly you hear a snap, you open your eyes, the bed post is broken, Micheal has gotten out of the rope. Fuck. You're screwed. You feel his hands on your hips and he slams you down onto his dick. He switches so he’s on top, you're beneath him, where you should be. He grabs your wrists, takes the rope that he broke out of and ties your hands together.  “You're going to regret teasing me.” He whispers in your ear. You shudder with excitement. This is exactly what you wanted, and Micheal knew this. He starts thrusting into you, his hands holding your hips in place to make sure you can’t move away as he slams into you. One of his hands goes to your clit, going in rough circular motions.  “Michael! Don’t stop!” You mutter, like he planned to. He continues his rough pace until you're squeezing him. “I’m c-cumming!” You stutter, coating his cock in your juices. He continues to fuck you, not slowing. He drops his head to the crook of your neck, he starts biting and sucking, making you whimper. God how he loved those sounds. He leaves hickies and bite marks galore, he moves to your chest, sucking on your nipples, knowing it was a more sensitive part of your body. You whine, feeling that pressure build up.  “Mikey, I-I’m g-gonna cum a-again.” You whimper. He nods, you know this is what you get for teasing.  He doesn't slow down, only continues the onslaught on your body. You feel the pressure build, build and then, he gets deep enough, hitting the right spot, sending you over the edge. 

“M-Michael!” You whimper, clenching around him, making him groan. Soon his thrusts get sloppy and he dips into your ear, your name falling from his lips, as he cums. You're panting and you see a sly smirk on his face. Before you get a word out he resumes his harsh thrusts. Michael leans down and whispers, “This is what you get, you're going to cum until I’m satisfied.” This is the most vocal he's ever been, you whine as he continues to slam into you. He smirks as you whimper and whine. 

“Whine for me, slut.” He mutters in your ear, his voice making you clench. He starts a rough pace on your clit making you gasp. You can't find the words to let him know your cumming again.

“Mi-Micha-” You can’t even form a sentence, he chuckles.

“Look at you, my baby is all dumb hm? Did I fuck you dumb?” He asks. All you can do is nod and whimper, his voice making you wetter. 

“Of course I did.” He whispers, his arm wraps around your waist to pull you closer to him. You smirk dumbly as he lifts you up by your waists and thrusts into you, hitting that bundle of nerves making you squeal. He continues to hit it. Positioning himself to always hit that bundle of nerves, over and over. You can feel that same feeling building in your gut. Before you could get any words out your coating his cock and he adores watching you come undone underneath him. The way you whimper and your squirming. God, he loved it. He kept thrusting and soon became sloppy, you knew he was getting close. With three thrusts he comes in you, his grip on your hips tightening and holding you in place. Once he finished he pulled out and looked down at you. To him you look like a piece of art, covered in hickies, bite marks, bruises, and his cum leaking out of you. You watch him walk away. You're too exhausted to ask, your brain fuzzy. A few minutes later he comes back with a rag and starts carefully cleaning you. It felt nice, the warm water on your sensitive skin, it was relaxing. Once he finishes cleaning you up, he holds you, a little awkwardly. He wasn’t used to giving affection. But you were very content with his aftercare. He’s a work in progress. Soon you feel sleep take you, falling asleep in Michaels arms. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

I have been thinking about this for a while

Reader that got sucked into the portal came back, stanley is overjoyed and is slowly healing from the guilt, ford and the others are very happy for them...

If weirdmageddon still happen and stanley has to lose his memory to defeat bill, how would reader react?

You knew it needed to be done but that didn’t make it hurt less to see the man you loved, the man you had spend thirty unfair years away from, look at you like a stranger as you pulled away from the one sided hug.

‘Stanley.’ You whispered in hopes that it would elicit some familiarity within him, but nothing his eyes were still confused and dazed as they were five minutes ago, which only proved in breaking your heart further as a broken sob broke from your lips as you burrowed your face into his shoulder. Stanley didn’t know who you were or what you were to him but he couldn’t let someone as gorgeous/handsome as you cry into his shoulder without at least trying to give you comfort by awkwardly patting you on the back.

‘His mind has been completely wiped y/n.’ Ford began as he could feel his own heart break at the sight of two lovers who were separated unfairly, brought back together, only to be separated once again by means of memory wiping one of them to save an entire town. He couldn’t imagine what you were going through as you had only came back from the portal not even a couple of days ago, it wasn’t fair on you and he knew it but before making the deal with Bill, Stanley made Ford promise to look after you and the twins should anything happen to him during the whole ordeal.

‘He doesn’t remember us…’ he then trailed off as it seemed that his words only made you tighten your grasp on Stanley, who’s tightened in return as he glared as his twin brother, though that major fact was lost on him, as to Stanley he might as week be falling at his own mirrored reflection more so then an actual relative.

‘Hey! Stop making the pretty person cry harder than they already are!’ Stan barks as he rubs his hand up and down your back before his face softens as he whispers to you, ‘someone as pretty as you shouldn’t cry for no one.’ This only made you sob even harder as this was one of the very first things that Stanley ever said to you after your breakup with your douche of an ex. It was also the first time you knew that this man would become incredibly special to you, even if he did do stuff that annoyed you, but you couldn’t help but love Stanley for who he was; a loveable man with a big heart forced to mask it thanks in due to his crappy fathers influence.

You didn’t know if you’d ever get your Stanley back, the Stanley that whenever you were annoyed with him would kiss your face until you smiled, the Stanley that would swipe money form people with deep pockets just to spoil you with it later for an impromptu date night, the Stanley you loved even when he had a mullet and looking good with it too; However you were determined to get him back in any means possible, you didn’t want to go through the remainder of your life without him ever again, you already did that and it was the most horrible thing you’ve experienced.

Sure the portal and the multiverse you’ve traveled and became notoriously wanted in -Stanley would be proud- has hardened you but one thing remained true, Stanley was your weakness, your Achilles heel as he was your soulmate through and through. So if there was anyway to getting his memories back you’d do it no matter what, no matter how long it took because all you wanted was your Stanley back, and you will get him back.

[nyctoaerah]

⋆♱⋆REGRETS

Content warnings: Angst, Death, Foul Language, Toxic behaviors, Unhealthy Relationships.

Pairings: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Fem! Reader

“Are you still thinking about her?”

Obanai questioned, leaning  into the oak tree with his hands behind his head as his heterochromic eyes dissected every flicker of emotion on the wind hashira’s face, searching for clues hidden beneath the mask of indifference that sanemi had.

Sanemi didn’t answer at first, opting to shred a blade of grass between his calloused fingers. The muscles in his jaw tensed as he chewed the inside of his cheek.

“No i’m not.”

He avoided Obanai's searching gaze, staring up into the leaves instead as they rustled gently in the breeze. 

Obanai gave him a look.

The serpent hashira knew how sanemi’s mind works. He was probably thinking about you again, and fuck was he right, Sanemi was thinking about you.

He was thinking of you like some lovesick idiot, he was thinking of your smile, the way you’d bark insults back at him whenever he’s in the mood to be grumpy.

The way you feel, and the sweet sighs you’d breathe into his skin.

He missed how well you knew him, able to read his moods with just a glance.

And damn, did he wonder what would happen if he didn’t acted on impulse back then?

What if instead of breaking up with you, and telling you to just leave the corps, he supported your decision?

Would things be different? Would the two of you still be together?

Would he be able to marry you like he had always wanted to?

“I know you’re thinking about her, Shinazugawa.” Obanai interrupted his wishful thinkings bluntly. Sanemi shot him an irritated glance but didn’t deny it.

There was no point in arguing — Obanai could see right through him anyways.

“Thinking of what could have been if you didn’t split up, yeah? Putting a ring on her finger?”

“Tch. Mind your own business,” he grunted.

“So what if i am thinking about her? It doesn’t matter.” sanemi answered bluntly, making obanai sigh.

“You should move on. it’s been a year and a half.” Obanai replied.

“It’s pathetic to still yearn for a girl. When you wwre the one who broke up with her in the first place.”

“I know it’s pathetic. You don’t have to remind me.”

Sanemi scowled.

He hated it—the reminder that he was the one who had broken your heart, the one who had walked away.

The mere mention of you was like a blade, pristine yet serrated; It was a very sensitive topic for sanemi.

Whenever you were the topic, Sanemi grew sensitive—He disliked discussing about you, because it hurts and left him feeling ashamed.

He loathed this conversation, this topic that dug into the wounds he thought had scabbed over, and he was ashamed that he was the one who broke your heart, when now he was the one pining and in pain. 

Why the fuck did the both of you have to be so stubborn?

All he wanted was to protect you—to shield you from the bloodshed and gore he faced daily as a demon slayer—yet your determination to join and spill demon guts for vengeance for your family was as immovable as a mountain.

Time and again he pleaded with you, begged you to reconsider, to choose another path, any path but that one. But you wouldn’t bend. 

It hurts him whenever he remembers that you and two had something special back then.

Every time he returned home injured from a mission, you would gently clean and dress his wounds with a tender touch, wanting nothing more than to ease his pain.

Your days were spent caring for the handful of stray dogs he had rescued from the streets, nursing them back to health alongside your own beloved pets and your relationship with him was basically all sunshines and rainbows.

But that was until a demon attacked and slaughtered your family.

Your gentleness turned hard as stone. Gone was the refuge you once shared; in its place grew thorns of bitterness, vengefulness, and distrust. All the love you had poured into caring for sanemi and your home seemed wasted and all you cared about was getting revenge. 

And your relationship became toxic, always arguing and all.

Though, one argument made him snap — when you said something hurtful about him.  He knew that he shouldn’t have risen to the bait, shouldn’t have let his temper get the best of him, but damn you just know how to push his buttons.

And before he knew what he was doing, the words were spewing from his mouth like vomit—words he could never take back, words meant to wound as deeply as you’d wounded him, and in the heat of the moment, he ended up storming out and dumping you on the spot, so that you’d quit the corps because he knew you wouldn’t want to see his face anymore or some shit like that.

Sanemi ran both hands roughly through his white hair in stress, tugging slightly in frustration as the events replayed in his mind. The hurtful words you had said were burned into his memory.

He let out a groan and leaned back against the tree, eyes closed as he tried to forget the look on your face when he left.

But no matter what he did, he just couldn’t escape the guilt.

And the fact that obanai just kept mentioning you was just adding salt into the wound.

 “If you miss her so bad, why don’t you just send her a letter and apologize?” Obanai asked casually, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Lower your pride a little. It wouldn’t kill you.” He added.

 “Trust me, I’ve always wanted to apologize.” Sanemi huffed out gruffly. 

“Damn it... I look like such a dramatic fool.” He grumbled to himself, cringing as he recalled his rash actions.

“Then why don’t you send her a letter? You know where to find her...” Obanai said with an arched brow, as if the solution was obvious.  

“I don’t wanna bother her.” Sanemi muttered, already dreading your possible reaction if he tried to reach out, he feared that you’d just tell him to fuck off.

But maybe Obanai was right... He really needed to apologize.

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡

©𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐀/𝐍: i was listening to xxxx by loonie when i was writing this dawg, it fits the theme & atmosphere of this fic... Same ground by kitchie nadal fits this aswell.

(this is totally not inspired by my previous rs)

[courtofparrots]

Luis Serra and his use of false bravado

I'm writing a fic right now that requires a pretty in-depth character analysis of Luis, and I wanted to talk about one of my favorite things about him, which is his use of false bravado to get out of sticky situations, and the expressiveness he displays in the moments in between.

We talk a lot about Leon's micro-expressions when he's trying to hide his feelings, which don't get me wrong, I LOVE to analyze, but Luis has such telling expressions as well, and we should talk about it! (I also saw some gifs of Luis's expressions being modded onto Leon and THAT got attention but... neither here nor there).

To me, it always looks like he's using an almost silly amount of swagger when he interacts with others to portray his confidence, and he barely ever lets that wall down. Unlike Leon and Ada, he's a civilian, but he jokes around and flirts every time he's in front of them, despite being in situations where he really should be behaving more like Ashley, like when he narrowly avoided being tortured to death and he's just like "nice, cigs"

We as the audience are only privy to his mask slips in 3 different types of situations, as far as I can tell:

When he feels like his luck is about to run out: he goes from acting confident to suddenly displaying a lot of fear on his face, while he wildly casts around for something to say to help him out. In both of these instances, he completely regains his bravado once he thinks he's safe again, i.e. when Ada saves him from the torturers, or when he realizes Ada knows who Leon is. This is also just kind of adorable. Watch the way his face falls when he realizes Ada is mad, and then the way he flounders when she points her gun at him.

2. When no one else is looking: This one stood out to me from the very beginning because he's actually still speaking with confidence as he explains that the plaga can be removed, but Leon and Ashley can't see his face, where he's clearly showing his trepidation, his guilt about them being infected, etc. and then notice how he goes right back to smiling and confident when he turns around to face them again.

3. When he feels concern for others: Luis is an extremely caring person, and one of the most common moments where he lets his mask slip is when someone else is in danger. Obviously the first thing that comes to mind is his reaction to the medicine being destroyed, but I also want to draw attention to the look on his face when Ada is in danger and she tells him to leave her. And I know I included him looking away from Leon and Mendez in a previous post but here's a higher quality gif so you can really get your heart broken by how scared he looks:

Anyways, I just love the little things that make up characters in this game. I also have analyses about Ada and Ashley that you'll probably get whether you want it or not because I love them, and their characterizations are so interesting.

[nkogneatho]

𝐈𝐃𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐘.

—a/n: just a toji thought i can't get off my head. this ain't a fic or anything but i need to tell you this. but tell me if i should write a fic on it tho. major character death, gn!reader, angst, jjk major spoilers.

toji broke up with you on the day he went to fight gojo. despite showing nothing but utter confidence, there was a tiny ration of his heart aware that he might not come home to you tonight. he might not get to eat the meal you prepared. he might not get to wrap his arms around you. the thought of you being alone, waiting for him with a smile on your face...he couldn't bear it. so he did what he always does. masks himself as the villian.

before leaving for the fight, he'd tell you how he's lost feelings for you, escalating the ground beneath your world. what did he mean? all of a sudden? what happened? your brain immediately started replaying memories, desperately hoping to find a reason where did it go wrong. You started crying, begging for him to give you a reason, or did you do something wrong but his face showed not a single shred of remorse. It felt someone stabbed your heart with an object big enough to hurt it, but not strong enough to pierce it, to leave you with an agonizing pain.

so when you leave your shared apartment—don't think you'll ever say that word again—after packing your things, hating his guts with all you've got, he sighs in satisfaction. When you're at the door, gracing him with one last glance of yours, your brows furrowed, all you could witness was him smiling. you hated him even more. Here you were, hurting, and all he did was smile? did he find someone else? but you didn't have the privilege to keep wanting him anymore so you left.

When you were crashing at a friend's place, Shiu gave you call. You tried to ignore it but 10 missed calls back to back means something.

"Toji's dead. The head of the Gojo Clan killed him." Your world shifted once again. This time, swifter than the breakup. You asked a hundred questions, denying, desperately trying to find a loophole out of this pain but Shiu answered them all as if it was the truth. And to your unfortune, it was. You've never cried harder.

But, when you happen to witness him at Shibuya, you convinced yourself that either you were hallucinating or he was doppelganger. When he locked eyes with you, his lips widened in a smile. Tears formed in your eyes. You immediately jumped in his arms.

"missed me that much, huh? i guess you don't hate me anymore" he said, arms wrapped around you.

"shut up and kiss me." when his lips crashed against yours, it felt like heaven. you've been deprived of this for years and now you finally had it. you knew why he broke up with you. toji tried to convince you to leave since he wasn't real. just an incarnation going to leave again for good, but years later your denial stage wasn't over as you tried to make him stop talking with your kisses.

"baby," he whispered. "I have to leave. It's time you go."

"No." Your voice firm but crumbled in seconds when you realized he won't listen to you anyways. "I don't care if you're not real. I need you. You can't just walk away again. You still have to make up for breaking up with me."

"Sweetheart, please." He sighed, trying to keep his composure but tears rolled down his eyes, a sight the world never witnessed but you.

"Toji. . .I know you wanted to protect my feelings so you made up all that breakup thing. . . but baby it still hurt. Nothing in this world can make me stop loving you. I hated you for it but I hated you because I love you so. damn. much"

"I am sorry. I love you and I am sorry I was so bad to you. I never deserved you. I never deserved your light, but thank you for gracing me with it." His hands started pushing you away.

"No. Stay. Toji!"

"I will always be by your side." In a quick second, he grabbled the broken part of the sword and stabbed his head.

"No. . . no. To—Toji? NO, BABY. TOJI!" you sobbed, crying as loud as ever as you held the corpse of a stranger morphed back to it's orginal body.

"Always be by my side? You left me, you motherfucker," you cried.

Ironic how there was a dead body lying on your lap, but you were the one experiencing death. Knowing everything he did in his life after he met you was to keep you safe from others, yet he was the one causing your heart the most pain right now. But how do you hate a criminal who also happens to be your saviour?

[smoochkooks]

—chapter twenty: this hope is treacherous

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, smut

word count: 2.4k words summary: it is not a sign of maturity, to cling to someone’s drunken words so much. but for a while, you did.

previous || next

Jungkook [Thursday, May 3rd, 05:32 pm]

How did it go? Soojin says everything’s fine between you

Want to grab bulgogi on Saturday? Same place as usual

Jungkook [Saturday, May 5th, 01:05 am]

Is everything alright? You haven’t been answering my texts

Jungkook [Saturday, may 5th, 03:45 pm]

Can I call you?

Two missed calls from: Jungkook

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th, 9:33 am]

Are you sick? Do you need something? I can drop by later today after work

I’m worried

Why are you not responding????

YN?

You [Wednesday, May 9th 06:15 pm]

Jungkook, sorry I have been MIA this past few days. I needed some time to think and I decided I want to keep some distance between us from now on.

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  06:23 pm]

What are you talking about? I thought we were good.

Did Soojin say something to you?

You  [Wednesday, May 9th  06:25 pm]

No, nothing happened. Soojin accepted my apology and she decided to move on, as I think we all should.

It was solely my decision and I need you to respect it

One missed call from: Jungkook

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  06:26 pm]

You won’t even answer my calls?

Come on YN, this is ridiculous

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th  08:15 pm]

Fine. I’ll respect your decision. Can I at least talk to you in person about it?

Please

“You’ve been staring at your phone for the past ten minutes, babe. Jungkook’s not going jump out of it, you can calm down for a sec.” Dahyun says from her place on your couch.

It’s Wednesday and Wednesdays for Dahyun are reserved for self-care, which often means trying out new face mask recipes she saw on TikTok. And since, as she stated a long time ago, “You’re my bestest friend, ever, ___” you are obligated to take part in it as well. If you refuse to participate, you should gear up for the Cheong Dahyun’s wrath.

That’s why you’re currently soaking your feet in a mixture of soap, bathing oils and a secret ingredient Dahyun doesn’t want to disclose, with a hydrating sheet mask on your face.

You lock your phone and throw it to the other side of the couch. “I should probably just ignore him completely.”

Dahyun rips off her sheet mask in a way too dramatic manner and turns to look at you. “And let that she-devil win? Fuck, no!” she blurts out.

You snort. “She-devil?”

“I would call her the b-word but I’m trying to cut down on derogatory terms when referring to women, even those who deserve to be called that,” she explains, massaging her neck with the sheet mask’s oily residue. “Anyway, I think you should tell Jungkook the truth. She’s manipulating both you and him!”

“If a say a word to Jungkook, she’s going to write a post on her social media and not only expose me, but also accuse of having an affair with him.” you reason.

“Just tell Jungkook she’s threatening you. He’s going to see right-through her bullshit, leave her alone and be with you,” Dahyun shrugs like your predicament isn’t complex at all, and motions for you to take your feet out of the water. She tosses you a white towel and hands an opaque container. “Now put that onto your feet. Girls on TikTok are saying they will feel like heaven. And smell like lavender too!”

You scoop the cream onto your nail and sigh. “It’s not that easy. She is his wife and he loves her, of course he will take her side. He might not even believe me,” you say. Your eyebrows involuntarily rise, inhaling the cream’s scent. “It does smell like lavender.”

Dahyun makes ‘I told you so’ face before replying, “You’ve got twenty years of friendship on her.”

 “And unrequited crush, and a whole book about it.” you point out.

“I forgot how complicated your life has become these days,” Dahyun says, shaking her head. “So what? You’re just going to give up? Ignore his messages, calls, don’t answer the door when he’s on the other side, hide in the bush when you’ll  randomly see him on the street and only contact him once a year for his birthday?” she asks.

Initially, your plan was to wait a few weeks after your confrontation with Soojin and eventually things would get back to normal, slowly and steadily. You’re used to being on stand-by, after all. But that was before you actually met up with her to talk. Before she’s threatened to reveal your biggest secret to the whole world. Variété would never grant you another book deal after such scandal. You would be ruined for good and blacklisted by every single publishing company in this country. You can’t risk your career like that. Not now, not when you’re already working on your new book and this time you decided to release it under your real name.

You think about your parents. What would they think about their daughter? Surely they would feel disappointed. Lastly, you think about Jungkook. If you let Soojin get away with her threats, you might lose Jungkook for good. And that would slowly kill you.

“Okay, fine. I will try to talk to him about it.” you finally decide.

Dahyun claps her hands. “I knew it! Gosh, You’re down bad for this man, aren’t you?” she asks, grinning.

“Stop teasing me or I’m going to cancel our next self-care Wednesday.”

She gasps. “You wouldn’t. I have gua-sha massages planned for that day.”

“Try me!”

You [Wednesday, May 9th 11:08 pm]

Okay. We can talk in person

Jungkook  [Wednesday, May 9th 11:09 pm]

I’m visiting Busan this weekend. Soojin has a business trip so I’ll be alone

Would you like to go with me?

You [Wednesday, May 9th 11:12 pm]

Busan is fine by me. I missed my parents

I will take the train though.

Jungkook [Wednesday, May 9th 11:13 pm]

See you there

“There she is! My lovely daughter!”

It’s the first thing you hear after getting off the train at the railway station in Busan. Your mum hugs you tight and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Your dad couldn’t leave work earlier today so I’m picking you up instead,” She puts her hands on your shoulders and eyes you carefully. The smile she was wearing just seconds ago leaves her face. “I can tell you haven’t been eating well! What have I told you? You need to eat or you won’t have any energy!”

There it is. The world could be on fire and your mom would still worry about you not eating enough. Twenty-something years have gone by, and she’s still relentlessly reminding you to do so.

You roll your eyes, as you always do. “What did you make for dinner, then?” you ask, opening the car’s trunk and putting your bag there.

Your mom’s mood instantly lights up. “Chicken soup and jajangmyeon, your favorite,” she answers and starts the engine. “By the way, Jungkookie is also at his parents’, he arrived yesterday. Why haven’t you come with him?”

“I had a meeting at the publishing company that I couldn’t postpone,” you lie. “I’m meeting him later today, though.”

“I can’t believe my daughter is going to be a published author so-hey, you idiot! Who gave you a driving license?!” she yells. The young driver raises his hand in apology and your mom huffs. “It’s always the young ones! Anyway, do you know that Jungkook never visits his parents with that wife of his? I’ve only seen her once, during their engagement party for the whole family. You know which one, they did a big barbecue in the backyard. She seemed nice then, but a bit too standoffish, don’t you think? She comes from money, right?”

“Yeah, her parents own a company in Seoul that distributes vegetables and fruits all over the country. They also export, I think.” you reply, staring at the busy streets of Busan. You would probably rather talk about sex with your mom than discuss Jungkook’s marriage life, but your mom is a busy-body and loves gossip too much to let that slide.

To say the last, Soojin’s father is a big name in the industry. Jungkook told you once that he had to attend a dinner with Soojin and her parents, hosted by the minister of agriculture. You remember how much Jungkook worried he might not fit in the family. Soojin grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth, attending private schools and going on vacations overseas. The summer after they officially had started dating, Jungkook worked two jobs so he could afford to go to Thailand with her. What was a standard for Soojin, was a hard-earned commodity for Jungkook.

Your mom whistles. “No wonder she doesn’t like coming here to Busan. Too posh for that, ha! And especially now, with two extra people in the house. Oh, ___, they are such cute babies! Everyone is head over heels for them.” she says, beaming.

You smile to yourself. Junghyun, Jungkook’s older brother, got married four years before him to his high school sweetheart and few months ago she got birth to twins. Knowing Jungkook, he’s probably spoiling them with presents every time he visits.

And speaking of the devil, you notice his car immediately as your mom pulls up to your driveway. With a heavy sigh, you brace yourself for what’s to come.

Four years ago, Junghyun’s wedding party

“So, my dear brother, when am I going to dance at your wedding?”

Junghyun was clearly drunk, his speech slurred as he wrapped his hands around Jungkook’s shoulders and gave him a loud kiss on the cheek. You giggled, positively buzzed yourself.

“I’m twenty-one and I just got back from the military. Let me live a little.” Jungkook grumbled and shoved his older brother away.

Really, it had been a little over two months now. His hair had grown into a nice length, the buzzcut long gone. He had gotten more buff, his dress shirt holding for dear life in some places. He’s matured, no longer a nineteen-year-old who had just finished high school but a grown adult.

Truth to be told, you missed him terribly.

Junghyun sat next to Jungkook, opened yet another soju bottle and poured a shot for each one of you. “To my beautiful wife Mina. I love you, honey!” he shouted and downed the alcohol. You could see Mina from across the room shaking her head with a soft smile playing on her lips. You grew up watching them fall for each other more and more with every passing day. If soulmates existed, Mina and Junghyun were definitely destined to be together.

“What about that birdie you’re dating now, huh? Sodam or something? Huh?” Junghyun asked, poking Jungkook in the ribs teasingly.

Jungkook’s already flushed cheeks, reddened ever more. “Her name’s Soojin and we are not dating. We went on one date,” he said sternly. “Besides, she’s out of my league. Her parents are super rich. Do you know she’s been to Paris this summer? She probably doesn’t know how cup noodles taste like!”

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing, then.” Junghyun shrugged his shoulders. He poured himself another shot of soju and looked at you, then at his younger brother, his face weirdly serious all of a sudden. “You know what I think?” he asked.

“I haven’t gained the ability to read your thoughts yet, hyung.”

Junghyun smacked Jungkook’s head. “Aish, who taught you to speak like that to your hyung?” You knew that, from the way Jungkook was biting his lips to refrain from laughing, that he wanted so badly to answer: “You did!”, but he decided to let Junghyun continue his drunken monologue. “I think that you and ___ will end up together one day.”

You tried to conceal your surprised expression with a chuckle. “Me and Jungkook? Please, I wouldn’t stand his ass.”

“Hey!”

Junghyun shook his head. “I’m serious. Best relationships, the ones that last years and years, are made out of friendship. Your partner should be your best friend! Look at our parents! Look at me and Mina! We’ve been friends throughout the whole middle school, tiptoeing around each other before one us decided to finally make a move. And now we’re married.” he said, his gaze longingly fixated on his wife. You dared to glance at Jungkook, thinking you’d find him amused by his brother’s drunken speech, but he was looking at Junghyun, not a hint of smile on his lips. “I think that it might take you a while to get there but eventually, I’ll dance at your wedding. And I’ll be really, really happy to do so.”

It is not a sign of maturity, to cling to someone’s drunken words so much. But for a while, you did. You replayed that moment over and over again in your head. You thought about Jungkook, his stoic expression while listening to his older brother. How he did not protest. How maybe, he could too imagine that happening. But then he went on another date with Soojin, and another. Started working extra hours to afford her lifestyle. Years gone by, and for some unknown reason, you still hold that memory close to your broken heart. 

[dekusleftsock]

MMMMM OKAY OKAY OKAY

I’m surprised no one has talked about how interesting Izuku breaking his mask is???????? Like oh my god?????

He even comments on the fact that it’s probably useless to wear in a scene like this, since he only put it on previously to shield his face from the waves while fighting and running away from Himiko.

In fact, I could even compare this to another Himiko scene altogether!

Himiko’s broken mask.

It’s a metaphorical mask, but honestly, so is Izuku’s. In this chapter (and previous chapters, obviously) Izuku is hiding from the fact that he has… deeper than desirable feelings for Katsuki that makes him violent and hateful. He does not want to be violent or hateful, but currently, he is at such an awful state of mind (due to Katsuki’s death and then reawakening, and also partly the state of his friends and colleagues) that he can’t help doing so.

That hate and violence cannot be stuffed down deep in his bones like usual, oh no, his quirk elicits a PHYSICAL reaction. But he didn’t have a quirk before, how could he really know that this would happen? It’s like walking through daily life as a teenager, and then in your early adulthood being hit by an extreme anxiety disorder or other health conditions. With no real reason, it just happened one day! Other people have dealt with this before sure, but they had several years throughout their adolescence to figure it out, how to cope with it. And just like it’s said in the manga, it’s like everyone else is running far ahead, and you’re just starting to crawl.

And that’s what the mask is (fuck you dream 🫶🫶🤭) really for. It protects Izuku on a very emotional level. The mask is broken, chipping, dirty—yet he wears it anyway because it’s the only way he can really smile like allmight. Just like allmight found his mask, he also found his smile. It’s also probably why his first reaction to having a quirk stolen (while also strategical) is to hide hide hide in blackwhip. A bubble that hides him from Shigaraki, from Katsuki, from everyone who could see his face.

And comparing this to toga, hello?? Her masking metaphor is about MASKING AS A HETEROSEXUAL GIRL, and her breaking that mask makes her a deviant, an outcast! And here Izuku is, doing the exact same thing.

Shigaraki has danger sense now, by all means, the table has flipped—Shigaraki now knows that Izuku wants to hurt him. Izuku wants to destroy him. Danger sense doesn’t work on just anyone, it has to be coming from a place of malice (because Himiko doesn’t affect danger sense), and an urge for violence. Very Himiko trait.

AND IZUKU KNOWS THIS, HES BERATING HIMSELF, INDIRECTLY ONCE MORE—saying that he has this useless power (similar to how he berated the fish when he was mad at Katsuki in chapter 1), comments on how the mask is broken and that allmight found him that mask, and he even holds this disappointed look on his face.

THIS is the weight I was talking about. This. The berating, the indirect hatred, because Izuku hates. He hates people and things just like Shigaraki does. That’s why danger sense was the only power shigaraki should have taken, it’s the literal power to feel who is loving and who is hating.

AND OF COURSE WE HAVE THE THROWBACK CHAPTER TO 342 OH MY GOD

The fact that Izuku has to say, “you’re a person”, ITS SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL YALL IM DEAD

Oh also! Izuku having matching blood falling over the other half of his face is just too fitting.

To me, with this whole chapter, Izuku and Katsuki, the parallels Katsuki had to ochako last chapter (the falling on the ground, passing out because “it’s getting cold”), it’s just given me a lot to think about.

And I’ve thought and paced and I really really hope I can describe what I’ve been thinking.

Pikahlua (or however their name is spelled, sorry!) translated the text on top of ochako as “Im still not sure what was obvious to that person”. These are the rough translations which is good to keep in mind, but there’s a few ideas I’ve had floating around from that line.

I went back and read 342, Ochako is ofc looking out into the city, calling herself an oddball, even saying she feels like she doesn’t know anything about Toga; if, and this is a big if, but… if this is Izuku thinking about Ochako, then that makes this line far more interesting.

What was obvious to her? A couple of possibilities—possibly understanding that she doesn’t really know Himiko, maybe it’s the fact that Ochako is so openly ready to accept Himiko (unlike Izuku for shigaraki, though this doesn’t apply to Katsuki. Showing Izuku is capable of feeling long term resentment for someone who wronged him, so long as that person doesn’t just wrong him, izuku), or maybe, it was the fact that she was so openly ready to say that she was weird, an oddball (a queer trope for coding characters, “she’s just so weird about that girl”, “I feel like I don’t really fit in”, or “I feel like the way I think of this same sex character—regardless of contextual status such as being a villain or an arch enemy—is wrong, and I should be condemned.”)

Though this could also be Ochako talking about Himiko that wasn’t directly said/shown in that scene, “I’m still not sure what was so obvious to Himiko about me.” (Though personally I find this harder to believe since this isn’t a panel directly taken from the chapter, rather a redraw from Izuku’s perspective. The drawing even makes her look taller than Izuku, which is interesting. Maybe he thinks that she’s better than him, morally)

And if we take Izuku’s comment of “You’re a person” then that furthers my belief that these are thoughts ABOUT ochako. Maybe the “obviousness” was the seeing the villain as a person. She EVEN TELLS HIM that she was thinking of Himiko during her speech about how Izuku is still human to the civilians. Maybe that speech was never about Ochako to Izuku, maybe it was ALWAYS ABOUT HIMIKO.

And ntm, this is another case of Izuku projecting onto someone else; not only is this a declaration to Shigaraki, “You’re still a person (that’s why I know I’m going to save you)!” But it’s also a declaration to himself, a motivator, a reminder that Ochako made to him during her speech, in Katsuki’s apology, and from allmight during his vigilante arc.

“You’re still a person (Izuku).”

The same declaration he made to the fish in the first chapter, to Shoto during the sports festival, and to Katsuki during dvk1.

“I matter.”

And it’s this that truly makes all of this so ironic—izuku speaking for himself, projecting onto shigaraki… honestly they feel the same way about hero society. The only reason Izuku can and does relate to Shigaraki is that he also feels cast away, no adults to reach out to as a kid, therefore making decisions on morality and bias that he mostly made on his own. Not only that, but Izuku has been the boy that was not seen as human. He has been the one to be isolated and shamed for being dirty and looking like a villain.

That’s honestly probably why he agreed with Ochako at all—he saw the little boy Shigaraki once was in ofa yes, but he’s also been an isolated and dehumanized teenager at UA. What if what Izuku was thanking Ochako for wasn’t actually standing up to the people and the speech she gave to him, but that she was able to truly open his eyes, see the bigger picture. Save Shigaraki.

Do I think shigaraki and dekus relationship and ideas of relatability are vastly different from togachako AND dabi + shoto ideas? Yes. Extremely so. Shoto and Ochako don’t and never really did hate Himiko or Touya. Obviously, to an extent Izuku does. Ntm, Shoto and Ochako brought up their conversations about their respective villains on their own, professing their insecurities and doubts, unlike Izuku who only expresses that he relates to them.

Maybe this anger and hatred came more recently, after seeing Katsuki’s death, but I have a feeling it more has to do with a built up grudge of Shigaraki targeting Katsuki.

Regardless of all of this, I see something bigger; when Izuku breaks his mask, he smiles. Genuinely smiles. Not his bright allmight smile, but he smiles regardless on that last page. It hurts and it takes a lot of power to push it, but it happens anyway.

This is the first time I’ve seen Izuku happy, or at the very least motivated, since seeing Katsuki dead. Even when Katsuki woke up, he still looks heart broken.

But the mask is gone. He’s free. Just like Himiko was free, so is Izuku.

And I thought for just a second that he would cover himself up another way, but he didn’t. He got up and he said “You’re still human” And smiled at him like the badass he is (yes I can compliment him, I promise. He’s my favorite character for a reason, I also just wanna kick him in the balls 24/7 for being so dumb).

And what did Himiko do when the mask broke?

She gave in.

She was free.

She let the world know, “this is who I am, take it or leave it.”

And I know, in my heart, that this is what Izuku will do too.

Yk how I mentioned earlier that this was a parallel to this?

I mean that, down to the fact that Ochako is calling Himiko by her first name.

Will Izuku try to give his life to Katsuki? I doubt it, he can’t do much in the medical sense.

However, do I see a shared moment similar to this? Maybe.

Okay all I’m saying is that it’s undeniably canon atp. Like I’m gonna wait for some kind of confession or kiss (bc yes I still believe that will happen, I am in that camp and you couldn’t drag me out unless I was cold and dead on the ground), but Himiko literally says she loves Ochako multiple times, INCLUDING is 395, so like. Idk what else you want. It’s this. We did it. Horikoshi you bastard.

[factual-fantasy]

25 asks! Thank you! :}} 👹

I have it in the back of my mind, but I haven't actually made any steps in making more master posts.. 😔

ReBLOGGING is good! Its a feature of Tumblr and helps more people find my artwork! Very nice :))

RePOSTING is stealing my art and posting it on your own account. Giving you and only you all the credit. That's theft and no good!

I think I remember wanting my sona to be an object head of some kind. I think I doodled probably a dozen different ideas before I got frustrated and just scribbled my most recent attempt out.

But then it hit me. I doodled two little white eyes on the scribble and I knew I had found my sona XDD

@xxthedragonrebornxx

XD Thank you for remembering my boundaries and respecting them! :)) And THANK YOU FOR THE CUPCAKE!! :DDD

I haven't read it, but I've seen it blowing up all over tumblr. It must be pretty cool! :00

@milk-powrit

<XD I won't lie, Bill is a fantastic villain. I just "hate" him because Stanley is my favorite character and Bill put his family through hell 💀

Most of the team: "Aww 🥰💞💞"

Gloria: "WHO ARE YOU AND HOW ARE YOU HOLDING ALL OF US UP AT ONCE"

@pink088

<XD These past 2-3 days have just hammered me health wise, but I can at least say that I've been sleeping enough!

And thanks for the check in! I wish you the best :))

(Pokemon violet comic(?))

:DD Thank you!! I'm glad you liked it!! :)))

If I ever really go into those series I would :00 But I cant remember the Godziilla movies- plus that would be really hard to draw <XDD

There's so many sonic medias that i wouldn't know which one to go by- and I've seen playthroughs of Poppy playtime but it never really grabbed my interest.. <XD

I'll do my best to keep up with all that <XDD Thank you!

(Frank butterfly post)

Oh there's no need to worry about Frank! It might be hard to tell- but that was actually a moth! Frank had bags under his eyes because he was out late studying moths :))

<XD Well considering Homes intentions are intended to be unknown- you're free to imagine that! :D

@skywillow28022

ohmygosh the third movie is so good I actually cant watch it anymore lest I burst into tears 😭😭😭💞💞💞 10/10 WOULD recommend cars 3--

Anyways- I ADORE the cars franchise and absolutely would have drawn them more.. if cars weren't so hard to draw <XD Plus my favorite thing to draw is angsty cuddles and hugs and big droopy eyes and tears- that's kiiiind'a hard to pull off if your characters are cars-

Of course I could always draw them as humans like many other artists have.. but idk, it just doesn't feel the same you know? <XD

Also thank you! I hope you day goes well too! :))

@neo-metalscottic (Welcome home post(?)) (Octonauts eye study) (Oxem and Pepemijo comic)

AAAAA Thank you sop much! :DD I'm glad you've been liking my recent posts!

As for Oxem and Pepemijo, I cant show images because of the stupid 30 images limit-- But Pepemigo is based on/inspired by the Year of the dragon mask, and Oxem is based on the current season of Duets seasonal guide mask! :00

I imagine there are other dragons out there, like that other sky dragon that I made one time-- <XDD I don't really have any ideas for their powers or their story, but I had intended that Pepemijo at least knocked the krill out in self defense. Thankfully they wont be hunted by krill following that event- Oxem got them to a safe place and he knows that he should steer clear of krill territory in the future <XD

And of course! I'd love to see any critters that you've made! :DDD

@sussyhahag

uhg, always disappointing to see.. thank you for letting me know though 😔

*VERY LOUD CARTOON BROKEN HEART SOUND* (I LOVE THISSS)

<XD yup.

Also even though that disclaimer is there for FNAF and Octonauts, I still get people harassing me anyways!.... :')

@vesselofmanythings

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! :DDD And I wish you luck on your slime rancher creative adventure!! :}}}

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDDD That means a lot!!! :))

@starsbee

This shouldn't have made me laugh as much as it did XDD

@wolfie-777

Oh no.... THAT MUST BE ME WELCOME HOME AU COMING BACK--

@anikakitty11

Somethin ain't right with that dog <XDD

@edelgeist (Referencing this post)

oooh :00 I wasn't aware of that- thank you for the info! Perhaps I should invest in a cooling pad <XD

I have not <:( But after googling it- I love the artstyle! :DD

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Star crossed

Aeron Bracken x Blackwood!OC

𝔖𝔬 ℑ 𝔰𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔚𝔢 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔢𝔱, '𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔴𝔢'𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔴. ~ 𝔗𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔬𝔯 𝔖𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔱 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶

Description: At a masked Harvest Banquet held by Lord Tully at Riverrun, Aeron Bracken falls in love with a beautiful girl with golden hair. With nothing but the broken ruby necklace she left behind as a clue to her identity, Aeron searches for the girl only to find she is a Blackwood. Can true love triumph over the mutual enmity between their houses?

Disclaimer: I wrote this as a sort of companion to the Beauty and the Beast inspired Benji oneshot I did. It's based on a mix of Cinderella and Romeo and Juliet instead. Not that happy with how it turned out but decided to post it anyway. Fair warning it's very lengthy, I accidentally went quite plot heavy and this writer can never just get to the point your honour. This has no connection with my Aeron x Reader series Jump then Fall.

Warnings: Violence, Blood, swearing, negative associations with bastards (OC has dubious heritage), Black Aly's daughter, female OC, angst, fluff. Love at first sight vibes based on R+J and Cinderella. Incredibly self-indulgent, I just love Romeo and Juliet as a concept.

Once a year the liege lords of the seven kingdoms would host a Harvest Banquet to bring their vassals together. For most noble houses it was one of the most anticipated events in the year, an evening of festivities and an opportunity to gain favour with their liege Lord. In the Riverlands, it was a different story altogether and Aeron was dreading it. Every Harvest Banquet held at Riverrun inevitably descended into chaos, perilous as it was to have Blackwoods and Brackens in such close proximity. Lord Tully had ever been weak and unable to control the two warring houses, and the tensions between them would often dissolve into violence. Aeron was already filled with trepidation as he stepped into the carriage that would take him and his uncle, Lord Amos Bracken, to Riverrun. His uncle's next words only solved to bolster his feeling of unease.

"Nephew, I have never denied you your more scholarly interests, never reproached you although I would have preferred you to have taken an equal interest in your sworsdsmanship."

Aeron blanched at that. He had been recently knighted by his Lord Uncle and yet had only begun to take a true interest in swordplay. He spent much of his time in the expansive library at Stone Hedge, enraptured by the histories of the Targaryen dynasty. His uncle had never understood Aeron's interest in the House of the Dragon, he could surely spend his time concerned with his own House and lands instead?

"Nonetheless, I should like to see you take a wife who will fill the place of Lady Bracken once you come into your inheritance."

Aeron's mouth fell open, speechless, and he was sure he resembled the fish head sigil of House Tully.

"Uncle, I hardly think..."

Lord Bracken interrupted him before he could protest. "There will be many ladies at the banquet, from across the Riverlands and the Seven Kingdoms. It is a great chance for you to find a lady that should suit you. You may make your choice yourself, but grant me this: that you will concede to your uncle to try."

Aeron found the very real possibility of a brawl with Blackwood kinsmen far more appealing and much less frightening than what his uncle was suggesting. He had only a little experience talking with the ladies who would attend his uncle's feasts at Stone Hedge and up until now he'd spent most of Lord Tully's banquets making merry with his friends.

Nonetheless, his uncle had indeed never denied Aeron his interests and had enough faith in him to knight him. He found he could not deny his request outright.

"I will try."

Amos smiled in response and affectionately patted Aeron's shoulder at his acquiescence. A jolt from the carriage as it ran over uneven ground had Aeron's head snapping up to see they were almost at the moat of Rivverun Castle. Aeron adjusted his mask to get a better look at the castle, Lord Tully having decided to hold a masked banquet in accordance with the customs of Kings Landing this year. It was like something out of a folk tale, ensconced as it was on all sides by the Red Fork. Even set in darkness by the cloak of night, lit only by the glow of the moon and torchlight, he could not help but marvel at it as if he were seeing it for the first time.

Upon entering the Great Hall, Aeron took little time in finding his friends, and fellow knights, by the long banquet table which stretched the length of the room.

Quickly pulled into their conversation, he found himself forgetting his Lord Uncle's request entirely. Minstrels soon took up their instruments, and lords and ladies took to the centre of the hall to dance.

Aeron had only cast his eyes ascance over the dancing couples for a moment, but instantly found his eyes drawn to a girl with golden hair that seemed to glitter under the soft glow of the candle light, as if she were herself made from burnished gold. The sound of the minstrels' song, the chattering of lords and ladies, all seemed to fade into the background as Aeron observed the lady's graceful movements, her burgundy dress fanning around her as she twirled.

"Who is the lady whose gentle touch does grace the hand of that knight yonder?"

Jon and Samwell turned to look in the direction of his gaze. "I could not say, even without the mask I have never seen a girl with hair that shade at one of these banquets. Perhaps she hails from another kingdom entirely" Samwell shrugged. Aeron barely heard him.

"Any intimations I have had of beauty, forswear them all. She does teach the stars to shine in their celestial abode above the starry Sept. No, fire to burn and consume for starlight is too cold a light for her. She is golden sunlight that scorches."

Jon snorted. "My good man, what has come over you?  I fear you've spent too much time reading poetry. If you think her so fair why not approach her for a dance?"

As the dance came to an end and he watched the golden lady curtsy to her partner, Jon pushed Aeron forward. His eyes subconsciously widened in alarm.

"No, I cannot. I'll only make a fool of myself." Aeron wanted more than anything to approach the lady, but felt certain there were other lords she would prefer than he.

Jon signed, exasperated. "If you will not, then I shall dance with her myself."

Aeron felt a wave of jealousy surge within his, his fists clenched slightly in anger at his friend as he watched him approach the lady, as he himself wished to. As the lady accepted Jon's hand to dance, his heart tightened in his chest and a sudden boldness came over him that had him handing Samwell his goblet and striding towards where they danced. When the golden lady turned away from Jon, as the danced required, Aeron took his chance before he could talk himself out it. Roughly pushing Jon aside, Aeron quickly took his place. This only seemed to amuse Jon, whose knowing smile as he exited the dance floor suggested he'd been hoping to spur his friend to action all along.

As the lady turned back to face him, he watched her eyes, a curious shade of blue that veered on violet, widen in surprise underneath her mask, which resembled a tawny owl.

"I am certain you are not the man I was just dancing with my lord."

Her voice was sweeter than any music Aeron had ever heard and he wanted nothing more than to hear her speak again.

"I apologise my lady, Ser Jon was...indisposed. I wish to take his place, if you will allow."

Swallowing down his nerves he offered her his hand to her palm up. The lady tentatively placed her hand upon his, palm to palm as they began to turn in a circle and resume the steps of the dance.

"I am most grateful for your chivalry, my Lord. I should have been mortified to find myself jilted in the middle of the dance." The lady's tone was teasing, her eyes glittering under the torch light, and Aeron felt his lips upturn in a smile, as he grew in confidence.

"It is no great act of chivalry on my part. I must confess that I am bidden here by your beauty, I could not but notice you from afar and wished to speak with you, if only to express this to you"

Aeron's confidence diminished as he watched the lady's mouth part and heard her small intake of breath. Fearful that he had made the lady uncomfortable, Aeron quickly stuttered out an apology

"Forgive me my brashness, my Lady, I fear the wine has gone to my head and I have spoken out of turn."

They briefly broke apart to weave between the adjacent couple, Aeron's mind racing until they came back together.

"There is nothing to forgive, I take no offence in the compliment. I am gladdened you think me beautiful." Aeron released the breath he'd been holding to know he had not offended the lady but felt his eyes widening in shock at her shy response and the delicate blush upon her cheeks. Did she not think herself beautiful?

"O you are fairer than fair and lovelier still." The words came unbidden from his lips before he could stop them. He had not meant to be so forward, but he found himself wanting to sing the lady's praises, should it please her. The teasing strain that had marked their conversation up until this point left her voice entirely as she looked up at him beneath her lashes, uttering a soft "Thank you", in earnest.

Aeron cleared his throat slightly, trying to diffuse his nerves. "Are you enjoying your evening, my Lady?"

"In truth I do not much enjoy banquets, I had much rather be reading or riding my horse Estella. Although I am happy to have finally seen Riverrun, it is a most impressive structure." she responded, almost sheepishly, to Aeron's surprise.

"I feel much the same, my Lady. May I ask what you most enjoy to read?"

Y/N's eyes lit up at his question, "I enjoy the histories the most, particularly those of the Targaryen dynasty."

Aeron grew more confident in the knowledge of their shared interest.

"I too have a particular interest in the Targaryens, my uncle does not understand it at all and I know he wishes me to remove my nose from my books. But is it not thrilling to read of dragon riders, to know that we walk amongst such God-like beings?"

As their dance came to an end, the golden lady grabbed Aeron's hand and started to pull him towards an inconspicuous door towards the other end of the hall. "Come with me." She said simply and he wordlessly followed, content at the feel of her smaller hand in his. He allowed himself to be pulled by the lady out of the door and along a series of corrdidors until they reached a long hallway, its walls covered in paintings.

Aeron had never ventured this far into Riverrun's halls before. "How did you come to find this, my Lady?"

The golden lady dropped his hand and Aeron flexed his slightly at the loss of contact, already missing the feeling of her hand in his. "My mother had Oscar Tully show it to me before the banquet started, she knew I'd like to see it and I believe you might too."

Taking hold of his hand again, she pulled him towards the third painting on the Eastern side of the hall. Aeron found himself gazing at the girl next to him instead of the painting, as if he were trying to memorise her features and she were the painting, but quickly averted his eyes when he caught her gaze. The painting in front of him was of a knight bending the knee in obeisance to a kingly figure with pale blonde hair.

"They depict the histories of House Tully. This one shows Aegon the Conqueror naming Edmyn Tully Lord paramount of the Red Fork." Aeron did not know such objects, filled with precious knowledge, existed at Rivverun.

"I am gladdened you thought to show this to me, my Lady, I am yours to command. Direct me forthwith." The golden lady grinned up at him beneath her mask and pulled him from one painting to another, explaining little details on each. Aeron could not help but smile at her excitement all the while. Finally, she pulled him towards a painting he could not decipher as the lady next to to him began point out details to him. "It depicts the women's court held at Riverrun on behalf of Queen Alysanne Targaryen by her lady's maid, Jennis Templeton. Queen Alysanne herself was presiding over the Iron Throne in the King's absence. A true Queen."

Aeron smiled softly at her. "Queen Alysanne was a wise and capable consort. By the grace of the Seven, we should see such a partnership grace the Iron Throne again."

To his dismay, the lady's face fell and she gripped the gold chain of her Ruby necklace, her knuckles turning white. He could not think what in his words had offended her but before he could offer her his apologies for any misunderstanding, a horn sounded faintly in the distance. The noble families must have been preparing to leave, the light of the moon suggesting that it was the hour of the eel. Time had slipped away from Aeron. With a look of alarm, the lady took hold of her skirts and, with parting "farewell my lord", she rushed down the hall whence they'd come. The chain of her necklace broke and as it fell to the floor she briefly looked back at it with a mixture of sadness and indecision, before abandoning it entirely.

Frozen to the spot in shock at the suddenness of her departure, it was only upon spotting the glittering of her ruby necklace on the floor that Aeron could force himself to move. Kneeling to collect the broken remnants, he quickly leapt up and broke into a run. He was determined to return her necklace to her, to make amends for any offence he might have caused, and to learn the name of the lady who'd ensnared his heart so quickly.

By the time he reached the Great Hall, she had disappeared entirely into the throng of lords and ladies now departing to return to their own hall He cursed himself for tarrying so long, for being such a floundering fool that he had not even asked the name of the lady. Wrenching his mask from his face in frustration, he looked down upon the broken necklace in his palm. Closing his palm over the cold surface of the ruby, a feeling of resolve came over him. Someone at the banquet would be able to identify the jewel or the lady herself. He would find the girl of burnished gold again.

Aeron searched far and wide for the mysterious lady, sending missives by raven to each House that had been in attendance at the Harvest Banquet, excluding the Blackwoods. But none could lay claim to the necklace he described or identify the Lady with the golden hair. It was as if she had never existed. Aeron was weary with frustration, leaning his cheek against the cold surface of his desk. A knock at the door of his chambers had him straightening up just in time for a herald to announce Ser Samwell and Ser Jon. He bolted out of his seat to greet them.

"Any news of my lady?" His hopeful expression fell as they both shook their heads. "I fear she cannot or does not want to be found. What does your uncle say of this...obsession of yours Aeron?"

Aeron rolled his eyes, "I think he finds the whole affair amusing. He told me he was intrigued to see how it would play out."

Samwell snorted and Jon discretely elbowed him in the ribs. Aeron ignored their antics and tried to think of what else he could do when an idea came to him. Returning to his desk, he pulled the ruby necklace from a drawer and presented it to his friends. "I will bring the lady's necklace to all the jewellers in the Riverlands, one of them must be able to identify the owner. Failing that, I will extend my search to the Seven Kingdoms."

Eyes widening at the lengths Aeron was willing to go to find his golden lady, Jon nodded and turned to leave. "As you will it." Aeron quickly set to his task, making plans for when he would visit each jeweller. He would ride out from Stone Hedge on the morrow.

Aeron had already tried four other jewellers before he came to the one at Fairmarket, entering the establishment with no small amount of anxiety, aware it was frequented by both House Blackwood and House Bracken. "I wish to enquire as to the providence of this necklace. Do you recognise it?" Aeron could not help the hope that surged in him, even as it had been dashed at every turn. His heart began beating wildly as the jeweller began to nod with clear recognition upon his face. "I know it, it was my hands that crafted it. The necklace belongs to the Lady Daenara Blackwood, daughter of Lady Alysanne." Aeron felt as if the ground was collapsing out from under him. He had not even considered the possibility of his lady belonging to the House of his greatest enemies. Her features were not those associated with House Blackwood, not possessing the raven hair and dark eyes of her kinsmen. His mind spun, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions warring with each other until he came to the realisation that it did not matter. He had never met a lady like Daenara Blackwood, never found a person that felt so familiar and comfortable to him even upon first meeting, none so intelligent, none so beautiful. He found he could not extend his inherited hatred of her House to her, and came to a decision.

"How long would it take you to mend it?"

Three days later, the now mended ruby necklace in his tunic, Aeron reviewed the course of events that had led him to his current precarious position. A bead of sweat trailed down his brow as he heaved himself up by the vines on the lowest wall he could find as he had circled Raventree Hall. Swinging himself over the top of the wall he found that he was in a lush garden, likely no where near the household chambers and he began to think he'd been truly stupid in not thinking up a clearer plan. Would he now have to throw stones at every window and pray he found that of his Lady's instead of her cousin Benjicot's?

A glimmer of gold caught his eye between the arches of a wall that seemed to lead to a smaller, private garden and he thanked the Seven for bringing him to exactly where he needed to be, as if by fate. Beginning to climb down into the grounds, he lost his footing and unceremoniously fell to the ground, letting out a low grunt of pain. His Lady must have heard the kerfuffle, for she appeared between one of the arches of the wall separating them to see him sprawled in front of her.

Quickly jumping to his feet, he halted his movements as she took some hurried steps back, eager not to scare her away. He held his hands out placatingly.

"Please, I did not mean to frighten you, my Lady. Will you not stay a moment?"

Daenara's eyes fell upon his golden tunic and the red stallion blazing across it, the sigil of his House.

"You are a Bracken, how can I be sure you do not intend to harm me."

He took several tentative steps forward, prompting Daenera to move further into the garden, dissapearing behind the wall before reappearing in an arch further away from the door which must lead to her private garden.

"I assure you I have no ill intent and would never harm a lady." He followed her as she moved down the length of the wall, shooting him furtive glances. He thought desperately of how he could convey to her that he meant her no harm.

"It is death should they find you here." She had stopped moving away from him at least, enabling him to step right up to the arch she now peered at him through.

"I do not wish to quarrel with your kin, only to return what belongs to you and to speak with you. If it is your wish to bid me go once I have done so, then I shall leave at your will, I assure you." When Daenara gave no response, only looking up at him quizzically with furrowed brows, he continued.

"I came to return your necklace, I hope you will not take offence at my presumption but I had it mended. You looked saddened to see it break so I could not but guess at its significance for you."

He held the necklace out to her across the ledge of the arch, and she slowly raised her hand to take it, brushing her hand against his.

"I am most grateful to you, my Lord. This necklace is, indeed, of special importance to me. A gift from my mother and a symbol of my House, though I know that will not hold much import for you."

Ignoring the door he'd seen entirely, Aeron climbed through the arch, leaping over the wall, as Daenara stepped back to allow him entrance. He was relieved that she now seemed to understand he would not harm her. It pained him to think of it.

"I would not reproach you for loyalty to your House, which is most admirable."

Looking into his eyes with a startling focus as if trying to assess his sincerity, she seemed to find what she was looking for.

"May I request your assistance?"

She pulled her hair back from her neck and turned her back to allow him access. Hands trembling slightly with his nervousness at their proximity, he wrapped the necklace around her neck and closed the clasp of the necklace. His fingers lightly brushed against the graceful slope of her neck, her skin soft and delicate to the touch.

A blanket of golden hair brushed against his shoulders with their closeness as Daenara turned back round to face him, hand clasped around her necklace.

"You have divested yourself of your purpose for coming here, what will you do now?" A glimmer of something he could not place lit her eyes, and Aeron had to forcibly pull his eyes away from them to answer coherently.

"It is only half true that I have fulfilled my purpose in coming to you, my Lady. I wish to speak my intentions, should you permit it."

"What intentions could you have? Have you yourself not borne witness to the chasm that separates our Houses, the danger you now place yourself in just by being here?"

Taking a careful step toward her, their chests almost touching, Aeron lowered his head reverentially and spoke softly.

"The only danger I fear is that which lies within your power. It is you fair lady whose weapons I fear.

Daenara looked surprised at his answer but stepped closer still, having to crane her neck up to look into his eyes.

"I am not so dangerous as that. And to what weapons do you speak of?"

"I speak of your power to grant or deny me your favour. One word from you could dash all of my hopes and tear my heart asunder quicker and with greater pain than any dagger of your kinsmen."

A look of realisation began to dawn on her features, a blush to tint her cheeks before Aeron spoke again.

"Your wit, your warmth, and your beauty ensnared me from the first. I tried to remove you from my thoughts, I admit, upon learning you were a Blackwood, but it was as if I were tearing a constituent element from myself. Do I dare to hope you have thought of me also?"

"I have thought of you many times since that night. I thought you must be a Bracken when you spoke of the Seven and it frightened me, yet I could not bar my heart to you even as I fled from you."

Aeron place a hand lightly on her elbow, his head spinning at the thought of Daenara returning his feelings for her.

"I have searched for you since, my only clue your necklace, so auspiciously dropped. For without it I could not have found my way to you again."

Taking a few steps back from him, Daenera stopped Aeron from following with a hand to his chest.

"I fear I cannot grant you what you seek. My affections as a Blackwood are not meant for a Bracken to possess." 

"Your caution is wise, fairest of ladies, but you'll find that a match between our Houses is not without precedent. Queen Visenya Targaryen herself arranged for two matches between our houses to great success. And was not King Benedict Blackwood himself born of both our Houses?"

Daenara's eyes shot up to meet his, her face contorted in anger. "Do you draw the comparison purposefully, for none could be deceived or blinded by my appearance? I know I do not bear the features of my House."

Quickly realising his blunder, King Benedict famously being a bastard, he took hold of her hand in both of his, his expression penitent.

"Sweet Lady, I assure you I meant no offence, it was not my intent and I beg your forgiveness for my careless blunder. I will speak plainly to avoid any misunderstandings between us. I wish to court you and devote myself to winning your heart for mine own."

"You speak such pretty words, I can scarcely believe them to be in earnest."

"Forgive me if my tongue does run away with itself, I will desist should my words displease you. Only do not send me from your sight entirely. My admiration for you is true, my Lady."

"Daenara, you may call me Daenara."

Aeron's lips quirked up in a smile.

"Daenara. And you must call me Aeron." Daenara offered him a tentative smile that instilled him with the confidence to make his next request.

"Will you meet me on the border between our lands tomorrow? I only wish to talk with you and learn more about you, Daenara." That was an understatement. He wanted to know everything about her, her likes and dislikes, what hopes she held for the future.

"I will endeavour to meet you, though I cannot promise. It will not be easy to slip past Benjicot. My cousin is rather protective of me."

He gently took hold of her hand, his moments slow to allow Daenara time to reject his advance. When she did not, he grazed his lips across her knuckles, maintaining eye contact with her "I will wait for you."

Aeron could not repress his joy as he climbed back over the garden wall of Raventree Hall, barely paying any mind to the danger as he snuck back into Bracken lands. His heart soared at the thought of seeing Daenara again on the morrow.

The next day Aeron waited at the border between Bracken and Blackwood lands until he began to think Daenera would not come. The light tread of footsteps and the sound of satin shifting signalled her arrival and he beamed at her. "You came, my Lady." She smiled shyly back a him, "I promised I would try."

As Aeron took a step towards her, she raised a palm up to stop him. "I would not have you risk crossing into our lands again, it is a miracle you managed it unharmed last night. And I really ought not to cross into Bracken lands."

Aeron frowned then held out his hand to her, palm outstretched. "I will not cross the boundary line if it displease you. But we may walk along it side by side if we stay within our own lands may we not?" Taking his outstretched hand, Aeron quickly interlocked their fingers, his own cheeks surely blazing with heat at her acceptance as they began to walk alongside one another, a curious sight. Aeron found he did not care how unusual a pairing they made, simply content to speak with her again, to laugh with her, all the while feeling the comforting weight of her smaller hand in his, as she playfully began to swing their arms.

A sudden movement caught Aeron's eyes and he panicked at seeing Benjicot Blackwood, who would surely kill him should he find him so close with his cousin, at a distance. Realising he'd not yet spotted them he quickly pushed Daenara into a nearby bush on the Bracken side of the border. Swiftly bracing his hands on either side of her head to avoid crushing her under his weight he swept one hand over her head, tucking various strands of hair away from her face, looking over her frantically to determine if the fall had hurt her. "Aeron!" Daenara scolded him, unaware of what could have prompted his strange actions "My Lady, I apologise profusely. Are you hurt anywhere? I saw your cousin approaching overhill and panicked" the last he spoke sheepishly, waiting with baited breath for her to scold him.

To his surprise she smiled up at him affectionately and tangled her hand in his hair, laughing up at him. "It looks like I've crossed into Bracken lands after all, despite my best intentions." Aeron looked at her seriously, their faces so close his nose was almost brushing hers. "You will not come to any harm on my lands, not when I'm with you." Daenara made no answer, but when her eyes flitted from his eyes to his lips he boldly claimed hers with his own. Her hand tightened its hold on his hair to pull him closer to her and he moved his hand to cup her face. When they broke away for air he placed his forehead on hers before placing a tender kiss upon her head and standing, reaching down to pull her up with him and help her out of the bush. "I believe your cousin must have departed by now."

Aeron and Daenara continued to meet at the border, walking hand in hand along the boundary stones which divided their Houses, exchanging kisses and leaving letters for one another in secret, a bond of love growing between them each day.

Daenera stomped towards her meeting spot with Aeron, furiously brushing away tears of bitter betrayal from her eyes. Her mother, the Lady Alysanne Blackwood, had summoned her to her Chambers that morning, and by the time she'd left it felt like her entire reality had been pulled out from beneath her. Daenera was not naiive, she'd always known she was a bastard. She looked nothing like her kin, the only thing making it at all clear she was related to her cousin Benjicot was their shared loyalty and that they were quick to anger. But she had never pushed her mother for the truth of her parentage, thinking it must be a source of pain to her. But now, to find that after she had expressed her affinity with the House of the Dragon for so long, her mother had kept from her that she herself was forged in fire and blood, it was almost too much to bear. Her mother had explained that her father was the Prince Daemon Targaryen, making Daenera herself a Targaryen. It did explain her strangely coloured eyes and golden hair, surely the outcome of the Blackwood influence darkening the pale blonde hair of the Targaryens. But it hurt to hear her mother finally explain why she'd kept her from public festivities such as the Harvest Banquet, or any banquets outside of Raventree Hall for so long, for fear that her Targaryen ancestry should be discovered and make her a target. A fear Alysanne felt all the more keenly as the House of the Dragon had fallen into all out warfare, her own House and that of her love's declaring for different sides.

To make matters worse, her mother had made the truly aberrant suggestion to her to take a husband from their bannerman to further cement her place as a Blackwood, to give her hand to Ser Rickard of all people. He was brutish and vulgar, no matter how loyal he was to their House. But it was the suggestion she should continue to hide such an essential part of herself to avoid getting caught up in the Dance of the Dragons that cut her most deeply.

Aeron smiled upon spotting her but his face quickly fell as he rushed towards her, crossing into Blackwood territory to gently take hold of her elbows and search her face. "What has happened, my Love?"

She felt her throat close up with tears and let her head fall onto Aeron's chest, as he encircled one arm around her waist and one held her head against his chest to comfort her. After a while she pulled away from him, prepared to tell him all that had passed between her and her mother, all the while praying to her gods that it would not change his feelings towards her.

"My mother has informed me of my true parentage. She says that I was born of a brief affair with the Prince Daemon Targaryen, of all the possibilities. That I, myself, am a Targaryen. Worse, he does not know I was even born. I know my mother intended to protect me but it does not make her deception sting any less. To make matters worse, she wishes me to marry one of our bannermen and I don't know how to tell her my heart already belongs to another." Aeron had frozen in shock at her first admission, before realising that he must have known this truth about his lady somehow all along based on his first impression of her. And there were more pressing matters than gawping at her, she was looking to him for comfort, to help her fix this. And he'd be damned if any other man but him would marry the woman he loved, knowing she loved him too.

"My Love, I think I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were made of fire and I have ever been drawn to it. I do believe that fate brought us together in that knowledge. As to your betrothal, I will go to Raventree hence and plead for your hand if you should allow."

Daenara brought her hands to cup Aeron's face. Aeron hated seeing the sorrow adorning her pretty features. "My mother would never allow it, my kinsmen will surely kill you for even attempting it." Aeron took hold of Daenara's hands and pulled them to his heart, looking into her eyes. "I Love you, and I will risk a thousand swords to make you my wife if that is also your wish." In response, Daenara pulled Aeron down towards her by his tunic, molding her lips with his. They broke apart, both turning towards the sound of shouting "Get away from her Bracken."

"Gods, that's Ser Rickard, the man my mother wishes to marry me off to." If looks could kill, Aeron would be in his grave. But he steeled his courage, prepared to defend his lady and his love for her from Ser Rickard and the two other Blackwood Knights trailing him. He pulled Daenara behind him and sent a glare the knight's way, which only seemed to incense him further. "You dare to cross the border and accost a Blackwood, you craven bastard!"

Aeron bristled at his insinuation. "I would never impose myself on a lady without her consent, Ser."

"She belongs to House Blackwood and is to be my wife, I have her mother's permission. Remove your hands from her person."

Aeron took a step towards the knight, speaking through gritted teeth. "From what I hear you do not have the lady's consent, and that is all that matters to me."

"You speak for her do you?"

"I would not dare. But I will not stand by idly as you lay claim to the lady as if she were some common cattle."

Not a moment after Aeron had spoken, Ser Rickard had forcefully shoved Aeron in the chest, pushing both Aeron and Daenara backwards. Shoving him again, Aeron just barely managed to stay standing, looking behind him to check Daenara was unharmed as she'd been holding onto his arm. But she had placed herself between the two in an attempt to stop any further violence from ensuing and time seemed to slow as Aeron watched in horror as a blow meant for him connected with Daenara's face, sending her falling to the ground.

Aeron immediately went to her, brushing hair away from her face, tenderly holding a hand to the side of her head to assess the damage. He felt his heart drop upon seeing a trickle of blood coming from a split in her lip. Her eyes were wide in shock as if she had not yet fully registered what had happened. Aeron had never had a proclivity for violence, but seeing Daenara harmed when he should of prevented it sent a surge of anger through him he had never felt before. He launched himself at Ser Rickard before the other Blackwood Knights could stop him, bringing him to the ground with the force of his assault. The brief moment of confusion lost, the Blackwood Knights forcibly pulled Aeron from Ser Rickard and he shrugged off their arms before kneeling back down next to Daenara, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you alright, my Love, are you in a great deal of pain?" Daenara held her jaw in one hand, clearly pained by it, and raised her hand to Aeron's face. "I am alright, it is not so awful."

A shout interrupted them as Benjicot appeared a few yards away, his face filled with rage. "Bracken!"

Aeron stood up to face him. Benjicot had briefly surveyed the situation and come to the conclusion that the brazen Bracken knight had laid hands upon his clearly injured cousin. "Did you strike my cousin? I'll kill you if you've harmed her."

Daenera rose from her position on the rough ground, dusting her skirts down, and placed a hand on Benjicot's chest. "He did not harm me cousin, but rather protected me from the one who did. You can take my injuries up with Ser Rickard once he picks himself up from the ground." She gestured briefly in the direction of the knight who was coughing and trying to recover his composure after Aeron's assault. Benjicot's breathing began to calm as he realised the truth of the situation, but he glared at Aeron nonetheless. "Benjicot please stop glaring at Aeron. You should know that I love him and intend to marry him." Benjicot took a sharp intake of breath, anger taking over his expression before he seemed to calm himself with a concerted effort, saying simply "I'll take you home cousin." Daenara nodded and took Benjicot's proferred arm, shooting Aeron an apologetic glance. But Aeron had already grabbed onto Benjicot's other arm to stop his movements. "I do not wish for the lady to be in any trouble because of her association with me."

Benjicot shrugged Aeron's hand off. "I care deeply for my cousin and I would not take issue with her even if she does have poor taste in men." With that Aeron watched Daenara and Benjicot walk the way of Raventree Hall before making his way back to Stone Hedge to speak with his Uncle.

Aeron was equal parts surprised and relieved that it took very little convincing on his part for his uncle to sanction his marriage to the Lady Daenera.

Aeron had anticipated an argument, reminding his uncle of the previous terms he'd set for Aeron securing a betrothal. "You told me I could make my own choice. I choose Daenera. I love her Uncle, and I have the good fortune that she loves me in turn." Lord Amos had only let out a short laugh at his nephew's insistence, never expecting him to make such an unexpected match but nevertheless offered him his support in securing Lady Alysanne's consent for the marriage at Raventree Hall the next day.

More curious still was Lady Alysanne's acceptance of the match on the basis that Benjicot Blackwood of all people had spoken up in his favour. Aeron decided to dispense with his confusion in favour of embracing his lady and capturing her lips with his, in the knowledge that they would soon be wed, despite all the odds set against them.

Lady Alysanne sent a raven to Dragonstone shortly after Aeron and Lord Bracken left Raventree, deciding that it was time for Daenara to have the chance to know her father. It took less than the turn of one moon for Daemon to arrive on dragonback, landing Caraxes not far from her halls, eager to meet with the daughter whose existence he'd had no idea of. Daenera had hardly known what to say or do and had curtsied tentatively towards him, addressing him in a timid voice "My Prince." Daemon wasted no time in embracing her, speaking into her hair "My daughter."

Daenera had never felt more sure of who she was, having spent so much of her life in the dark about her true heritage and always feeling a sense of loss she could never fully comprehend. The knowledge that Targaryen blood ran through her veins had enabled her to finally accept the fire that had always burned within her. She had been concerned as to how she would be received by Queen Rhaenyra as Daemon's bastard but the Queen had been unexpectedly welcoming and kind towards her, requesting that she come to Dragonstone along with her husband. Aeron's ready acceptance of her Targaryen parentage had only made her love him all the more. Daenera tried to channel her feelings of contentment into the Valyrian instructions her father had taught her, as she cautiously approached the dragon in front of her. "Lykiri Silverwing. Lykiri, dohaeris Silverwing" she repeated, one hand outstretched to the silver dragon's snout.

Silverwing huffed out fumes of smoke that warmed Daenera's hand, but the dragon did not stir as Daenera made her way along its length to the ladder which would allow Daenera to mount her. Looking back briefly at Aeron, who was gazing at her with a mixture of concern and awe, she turned back to the dragon with steely determination and began to climb up to the saddle, trying to focus on appearing fearless before the dragon she wished to claim. As she reached the top of the dragon's back and settled herself into the saddle she felt the bond between them fall into place, a bond so pure and so absolute she was sure it could never be broken. Taking hold of the reigns she spoke softly, knowing that Silverwing would obey her order now. "Soves."

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕰𝖓𝖉

Writer's note: if you made it this far you are an actual soldier, thank you so much for continuing till the end :) I've tagged everyone who liked my initial post introing this story, I hope that's OK.

@ithilwen-blackwood @twistytimesandthoughts @im-gonna-love-you-forever @momoko-world @houseofthedragonluver-blog @grandoli14 @bryandechartisasmolbean @theswreties

@thornew @jessie123878 @jinx53 @vanityphantomofhearts @shadowwolf202101blog @hanahb333 @cat0803 @dosx @potato1d-blog1 @shemisseshome @queenhelaenatargaryen1

@courtney0-0 @rvllybllply2014 @atrocic @jacobsmemesibling

[ddarker-dreams]

He Who Hides Behind a Mask.

Scaramouche x F!Reader.

Warnings: Scaramouche is a mess, Reader is honestly a mess too, implied not SFW.  Word count: 6k. 

Note: originally, this story was going to be lot darker (haha), but after the 3.1 cutscene... i decided mr. mouche can have a break just this once. as a treat. please handle him with care. he really needs all of it he can get. anyway here’s my love letter to my fav genshin character. 

i.

You are, without a doubt, the worst human in the world.

If Scaramouche was labeled an eccentric by his peers throughout the centuries, he wonders what that would make you. Whatever conventions you abide by are a complete mystery to him. Perhaps you damaged your head at some point in your life and are now living with the consequences. Or, your head has made it out mostly unscathed, and you really are just this foolish for no good reason. That miserable doctor might say there’s an explanation behind every phenomenon, but the charlatan surely would change his tune if he met you.  

What else could possibly explain why you have the audacity to waltz into his office, entirely unannounced, scuttling about like you owned the place?

… And if that isn’t worse enough, why does he let you?

“I brought some reports from Yaroslav and Stepan,” you slap said reports on his desk, then stretch your arms over your head. Scaramouche purses his lips as he contemplates how wide open you’ve left yourself to attack. He considers chastising you but decides against it this time, feeling otherwise preoccupied with your words. He’ll save that lecture for another day. Lord knows he has plenty building up already.

“Did they offer any explanation as to why they sent you in their stead?” Scaramouche scoffs, straightening the papers out and giving them a once over. If memory serves, this time-sensitive information was supposed to be here hours ago. He would’ve hunted the two aforementioned slackers down himself had he not been so inundated with other matters. Really, he shouldn’t be dilly-dallying with you at all, he should just wave you off so he can focus again.

Emphasis on the word should. He knows he most definitely won’t. Not when he had to bite his lower lip to stop a smile from spreading upon you barging in.

You unclasp your standard-issued Fatui mask from your face and toss it aside. “Well, if you want my opinion—”

“I can’t say I ever do, really.”

“—Okay, I’ll be ignoring that comment. Anyway, back to my opinion. I believe they find your lordship unpleasant. Horrifying. The worst company anyone could ask for. Had it not been for the fact they were wearing gloves, those papers would’ve been soaked from how much they were sweating.”

Gross mental image aside, he laser focuses on the insults you so freely flung in his direction. “If my company is ‘the worst anyone could ask for’, why is it you seek me out like a pest so often?”

You help yourself to the chair in front of his desk. Scaramouche had never seen anyone aside from you use it, since the few trembling Fatui agents that managed to survive their encounters here never risked staying long enough to test the furniture. It might as well belong to you at this point. As does the windowsill you somehow manage to balance yourself on when the sun is beaming in, the couch, his bed in the attached room…

“What kind of pest are we talking about here? Bugs or rodents?”

He rolls his eyes. You’re so purposefully obtuse that it’s a wonder your back isn’t bent a hundred degrees. “A mutation between them that maximizes both of their worst qualities.”

“One, that’s too cool to be an insult,” you put a gloved finger up, “And two, I’m convinced that if I didn’t keep you company, you’d go crazy from loneliness and zap everyone to death. I consider this a community service.”

Oddly enough, you might be spot on. What was that phrase again? A broken clock is right twice a day? He mentally rephrases it so that the ‘twice’ becomes ‘once’. He can’t be giving you more credit than is absolutely necessary. While he doesn’t have definitive proof you’re a telepath, it’s too much of a risk to presume otherwise. Your ability to read him is just… uncanny. He has his suspicions.

“You’ve been slacking in your supposed community service then, seeing as you’ve been gone the past week.”

Oh no, that came out way more bitter than he intended. And oh no, now you’re smiling, not the kind he’d begrudgingly call cute should his enemies ever waterboard the information out of him, either. This variation is the worst. Malignance hidden behind a veil of purity. The stuff of nightmares. It’s the ohh-you’re-so-taken-with-me-aren’t-you smile that puts his reputation of being cool and composed on the line. He can’t have that, not with you. It does away with the telepath theory that he desperately clings to.

If you’re somehow not a mind reader, then the only other explanation is that he’s made himself vulnerable enough for you to understand him. He doesn't like the thought of that. Not at all. The possibility pricks at him like a thousand needles, jamming in from all directions. Sharp and digging so deep past the surface, that removing them would cause him to bleed out.

With far more confidence in your gait than he would’ve preferred, you stride over, slinging an arm around his shoulder. The touch fills him with warmth, and still, he shivers.

“Did you miss me?”

There it is — a final blow worthy of taking him out. He wouldn’t succumb to flesh wounds, time’s passage, or elemental attacks that could level nations. It was only the sweet words that left your lips that held the high honor of potentially doing him in. Scaramouche is left stupefied. He doesn’t think about the two bumbling idiots that used you to avoid his wrath, the workload piling up as each second passes, or how grating his fellow Harbingers are.

Absolutely nothing else in this existence registers aside from you.

How close you are, how right it feels when your bodies connect, the scent of pine trees and brown sugar that make up the shampoo he knows you favor. The very shampoo he uses in your absence to try and placate himself until you return.

Emotions brew within him like the tempest above Seirai Island in his homeland. He hides it by biting down on his bottom lip, somehow managing to keep the cracks of his porcelain façade from spreading further. Once the damage is done, he hasn’t the slightest clue on how to go about fixing it. All he knows is that you are the one inflicting the damage. Far more than you could ever know. Far more than any veneer could ever polish.

With a strained tone, he manages to free the words that were lodged in his throat.

“You’re so full of yourself. Of course I didn’t.”

ii.

Scaramouche never thought he’d be able to desire a human body as much as he does yours.

It wasn’t until he made your acquaintance that he could understand how scholars went mad in pursuit of knowledge they’d never obtain. They knew it was a fruitless endeavor too, as did he, and still, what other choice did they have but to continue their studies at the expense of themselves? He was a creation — you were created. A line separates you both that he would always pass if it meant he could get the slightest taste. The blame all lies with you. Had you not tempted him, he’s certain he would’ve had the wherewithal to resist.

Or maybe that was just another pretty lie he wove, for he’s more comfortable claiming you’ve trapped him when he’s every bit the willing prisoner.

He once found the human body to be a miracle, something to envy in his earlier days. An unobtainable treasure for a tossed aside husk like himself.

He’s since rectified that naive line of thinking. What was so good about blood that couldn’t clot itself fast enough to heal mortal wounds in an instant? Skin that inevitably withers and sags from brittle bones? A heart that could kill its host should it beat too slow or too fast? The design was subpar. His being triumphed over it in every conceivable category. In the same way a swan would never pause to consider the appearance of a worm in light of its own beauty, Scaramouche thought he lacked the capacity to admire anyone other than himself. He figured that if he’d gone five centuries without finding anyone worthwhile, such a mythological figure must never exist. His modus operandi remained firm. Distrust miserable humanity, mock the foolish gods who are far less omnipotent than they’d like to admit.

Then you stumbled into the picture. No grace, no poise, only offering whatever it is you offer that he apparently just can’t get enough of. Addiction would be putting it lightly.

He runs his fingers over the hand-shaped bruises forming on your hips, then the blotches he greedily left behind on your neck. He considers the faded bites he had left around your collarbone upon receiving news you were to be away for a week on a job. He shifts himself, allowing the light from the full moon to illuminate where you returned the favor in kind, only to find the skin had healed completely. He frowns and tugs at his yukata to hide the perfection.

Indeed, you were subpar in comparison to his own divine design, but he couldn’t help but take a liking toward what your body was capable of. Far from revulsion yet not quite envy. This new emotion that bloomed in his chest went unidentified on purpose, for he never wished to give it a name.

Your body told stories, whereas his scrubbed the words clean from the pages, lest anyone ever read them.

A soft exhale from your sleeping figure draws his attention. You help yourself to snuggling deeper into his pillows, a content little smile on your lips that were raw from his various ministrations. He fights back a laugh at the state of your hair, sticking in enough directions to rival a compass. Absent-mindedly, he smooths out what he can. He’s probably not in a much better state himself. You were such a hair grabber. Perhaps all his spoiling made you impatient.

After running out of good excuses to stare at and touch you, he lays back down. His bed is far more inviting now that you’re back in it. Even if you have an unseemly habit of hogging the blankets.

“I did miss you… a bit.”

He whispers it as if it were a confession he’d clung to his entire life, only letting go moments before eternal slumber so that he may know peace. Scaramouche isn’t sure why he’s so adamant about denying you the truth. Is it pride? The thrill of being chased and sought after? Or, more realistically, and far uglier, could it be cowardice? He thought he had removed the filth that is emotion from his being. He declared it to be so, reveled in it, found solace that stretched centuries because of it.

You’ve reawoken that which lays dormant within him. If there’s anything the discarded puppet understands, it’s the danger that comes from rousing things from their sleep.

Much to his alarm, you stir, and he freezes like a thief caught in the diabolical act. You mutter some words that he can’t quite make out. Then, seemingly content with your change in position, you’re out like a light once more. His tense shoulders relax and he almost sighs from relief. He decides it’s too early to entirely let his guard down, not until he can confirm you aren’t faking slumber for some insidious machinations. He wouldn’t put it past you.

“You irritate me,” he murmurs, using the same volume that he did before.

Nothing.

“Your plant died because I forgot to water it like you asked me to.”

Still nothing.

“... Personality aside, you have some attractive qualities.”

Nada.

Huh. So he was being paranoid for nothing. He huffs in frustration, whether it can be attributed mostly to you or himself, he cannot say for certain. What he does know is that the sun will be rising in a few short hours and he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep. The fault lies with you, he decides. If you weren’t so pleasant to look at, he’d have been well on his way to dozing off. Every anomaly in his life can be traced back to you like an elaborate tapestry. He’s thought about ripping it off from the hinges, igniting each thread until it frays, warming himself with the fire that he’d start and maintain.

While it might be difficult at first, in the long run, it should make everything easier. Get his focus back onto his lifelong grudges and goals.

But when he feels how your palm locks perfectly into place against his, he decides the warmth he gets from you as you are now is superior. Even if it means that he might possibly be the one to go down in flames instead.

iii.

“Hey, [First].”

“Hm?”

“If I said that I hated you, would you believe me?”

You take a pause from sipping on the tea he prepared. Your fingers trace the outer ring of the yunomi, eyeing the steam rising from the murky green liquid inside. Unfortunately for Scaramouche, you’d witnessed him preparing matcha tea in the classic Inazuman style, and often bugged him to make you some. He always complained about how high maintenance you were yet never refused the request. The one time you pointed this out, he hastily made the excuse that you talk less and are generally more bearable when your mouth is preoccupied. This earned him a wink that set his face ablaze.

“I think it’d depend on your reason for hating me,” you decide.

He raises an eyebrow at this. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“Well, yeah. Otherwise, you’re not putting your heart into it. It’s too tepid. Go big or go home, as they say.”

Who exactly says that…?

“And what if I don’t have a heart?” Scaramouche proposes. You’re giving him a weird look. He knows he’s being overly cryptic and searching for answers you could never give, but he can’t stop himself. There’s a certain satisfaction to be found in getting all passionate over a perceived wrong. Searching for offenses hidden beneath the reeds that simply aren’t there, yet settling on labeling the rough shape of it just that. He likes it when others make mistakes in his presence. When he has an excuse to belittle and berate them.

What that says about himself, he could care less. Very few have the power and or courage to call him out on it.

He’s scrutinizing your every movement. From the fluttering of your eyelashes against your cheeks to how you readjust your posture, searching and searching for the perfect opening for him to lunge at. He needs it from you, he realizes, in the same way lost humans in the desert need water.

Scaramouche starts drumming his fingers on the ground. Why are you taking so long to respond? Normally, you would’ve rattled off on some nonsensical tangent by now that he’d claim to only be half paying attention to when he actually soaked up every word. Could it be that you sense the underlying severity that he tried so hard to mask? Or is his telepath theory gaining newfound credence again?

He has to sever this connection with you. If he doesn’t, every time he tries to pull away, he’ll snap right back in your direction.

“The way I see it,” you start, five words that make him internally cringe yet lean in nonetheless, “Your heart is a work-in-progress. An ongoing project.”

“What?” He deadpans. Whatever he was expecting, it certainly wasn’t this.

“Hold on, I’m not finished yet. You can’t judge me until I’m done.”

He has reason to disagree but keeps that sentiment to himself.

You set the near-empty yunomi onto the ground and look him straight in the eye. “A heart is what guides you. It takes you in all sorts of directions, good and bad. You’ll think to yourself, ‘why did I do something so stupid, when I knew it was stupid’, and well, that’s because of your heart. So as far as I see it, anyone capable of messing up has a heart.”

You tap your head with your knuckles and he’s semi-amazed it’s not a hollow sound that comes forth. “See, if we only used this and abided purely by logic, we’d all be super boring and perfect. That’s where our heart comes in. It sends us spiraling all over the place and makes things interesting.”

“So you’re saying because I’m stupid and have the capacity to ‘mess up’, I have a heart?”

“Well, I would’ve gone for an artsier flare in trying to sum up what I said, but I guess that’s the gist of it.”

“I’ll be generous and overlook the incredibly foolish nature of your words that defy all sensibility—”

“Wow, thanks.”

“—And entertain your assertion with one final question before I drop the subject. You still haven’t elaborated on the work-in-progress part. Explain.”

“Oh, this one’s simple,” you nod with confidence that makes zero sense to him. “It’s only a work-in-progress because you haven’t realized you already have a heart. Once you figure that part out, you’ll be all set.”

You have the audacity to conclude this world-shattering statement with a thumbs up. Scaramouche gawks at you, vacillating between incredulity and sheer awe over your apparent nerves of steel. Grown men cower in his presence. Villages and settlements are razed on his command. He could very well ascend to godhood one day so that he might tear the false stars from the sky. And here you sit, speaking candidly with him, as if it was the most normal thing.

You interrupt his thoughts by holding the empty yunomi in his direction. “Would it be okay if I had some more of this stuff? It’s delicious.”

He yanks the yunomi with far more force than necessary, turns his back to you, and starts assembling the necessary tools while muttering obscenities under his breath. The matcha powder is all but flung into the bowl. Stupid woman with a stupid pretty face making him do stupid things—

Scaramouche freezes.

You make him do stupid things?

Oh no, this is really, really bad. Wait. There’s still hope. A light at the end of the tunnel that he must run towards. If he doesn’t believe your mad ravings, because that’s definitely what they were, no doubt about it, then he’s safe. In the clear. All good. Above reproach. The implications that would arise otherwise are too damning, possibly enough to rewrite his entire existence—

You wrap your arms around him from behind and rest your head atop his. “Are you okay, Scara? I’ve seen statues move more than you have in the past few minutes.”

He swallows thickly.

“... Kunikuzushi.”

“Huh?”

“My name isn’t Scaramouche, you dullard,” he can barely ladle the hot liquid into the bowl from how much he shakes. “It’s Kunikuzushi. Remember that.”

He feels you hum, the sound low and remarkably pleasant. “Ku-ni-ku-zu-shi. Kunikuzushi. Okay, got it. What a relief. That’s way better than what I thought your actual name was.”

“What did you think my name was?” He questions, momentarily forgetting that giving into his curiosity around you often spelled trouble for him.

“Balladeer,” is your instantaneous response.

He lets out a sound he didn’t think he was capable of making anymore. You must believe this as well, for you release your hold on him, swiveling around in front with wide eyes. Scaramouche covers his traitorous face to the best of his abilities, but it’s too late. You caught a glimpse and now he will have to live with the consequences. He swats you away as you try to pry the hand covering his smile.

“Oh wow, I made you laugh!”

“You did no such thing.”

“It wasn’t a derisive laugh or anything either! I thought you could only do evil little chuckles. This is a discovery worth celebrating.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Look who’s talking.”

For once, he doesn’t have a good response ready to fire back.

iv.

Fate is an unfunny joke, as far as Scaramouche is concerned.

He was destined for more than the hand he was dealt. A creation torn away from the higher purpose it was handmade for. Godhood, divinity, a seat amidst seven holy thrones. Fate had spat in his face and turned its back on him. Some — a certain pink-haired kitsune comes to mind — might label his various schemes a tantrum. That could be exactly what he was doing. What the fruits of hundreds of years' worth of labor ultimately amounts to. He doesn’t care if that’s the case. People could look down on petty revenge all they want, but at the end of the day, what matters is that it feels good. Vindicating, exhilarating. There is unrefined beauty in disaster when he is the orchestrator of it.

Yet for some reason or another, he doesn’t want disaster to rip its claws into you.

Your touch is different tonight and so is his. There’s a raw urgency behind it that he doesn’t care to conceal, whereas yours is sluggish, almost apathetic. It’s the antithesis of everything you are and he can’t help but find his mood soured because of it.

Scaramouche is doing everything he knows you like. Touching you in the places that normally produce such lovely noises, devouring you with his lips and body. He’s giving you everything — more than that, even — while you give him nothing. You don’t goad him on or push him away. This impossible to decipher situation has his head reeling. He wants you, he needs to have you, but not like this. Not when you aren’t yourself. For that is what he desires the most.

When he pulls back from his heated kiss, saliva connects your lips in a thin line. He grimaces at your blank expression. Why isn’t this working? In the past, when words failed him, he compensated with his actions. He’d encourage you to sing, make you throw your head back and abandon all sense of propriety, freely handing the worthless notion over to him without a second thought. You never refused to give when he went to take. So this drastic change is both abnormal and unwelcome.

“... What?” He demands, breathless. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Why does it bother him so much?

Scaramouche knows he could get up and leave. Perhaps that’s what he should do, and what he would’ve done years ago, but he’s paralyzed. You’ve injected your venom so deep inside him and he didn’t realize until it was too late. Death’s tolls are ringing in his ear to come claim him, with you standing as his executioner.  

“You’re going to Inazuma,” the words come out slowly and in a tone that hardly fits you.

“Yeah? And?”

“You’re going to Inazuma without me.”

“I’m failing to see the issue here,” he grits his teeth. “Spit it out already. You’re testing my patience.”

You both glare at each other in silence for some time. A little voice in his head that he repeatedly tries to silence tells him he already knows where you’re going with this; you’re trying to give him the dignity of fessing up before he’s pressed further. You were an unrivaled master when it came to navigating the complex maze that is his existence. In any other instance, he might cave and give in. He can’t with this, it’s too imperative, the driving force that’s erred him on for countless years.

Scaramouche scoffs and moves himself off of you, settling on hanging his legs from the side of his bed. You don’t try to stop him or chase after him. You just lay there, your eyes burning on his back, ensuring that the atmosphere remains thick.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. There has got to be nothing worse than when one realizes they’re in the wrong. He can count the times he’s felt this way on a single hand, most of the experiences connecting back to you in some way. Conviction eludes him otherwise. He could shock sobbing and pleading individuals to ashes without batting an eyelash, but no, the moment you’re upset, it’s all too much and he can’t handle the pressure.

Fine. You want him to come out and say it? He’ll do just that.

“I’m going to leave and betray the Fatui,” he says as if he’s discussing the weather. “I want that deplorable Electro Archon’s gnosis. I’ve waited centuries for an opportunity like this to present itself. So, if you have half a working brain, you can see why I don’t plan on having you tag along. You’ll likely be labeled a traitor too for fraternizing with me.”

He’s grateful you can’t see his face, for he doesn’t have his hat to conceal it.

If he has little reason to stick around, you have infinitely less after a cold confession like that. He’s admitted to endangering you despite knowing his plan to one day betray the organization you both are members of. He selfishly embedded himself in you regardless, soaking up your warmth and everything good you had to offer. A parasite, he thinks. That’s what I am. A parasite that grew addicted to you and took more than it could ever hope to give back. He’s discarding you in the same way his mother did to him, once his existence was deemed unfit for its desired purpose. If he considered humans untrustworthy, what does that make him?

“... Is that all you want, Kunikuzushi?”

He’s never heard your voice so soft and delicate. What a shame that out of all the times he’s felt he deserved it, it had to come now, when he knows he doesn’t.

“It is,” comes his curt response. “You’re a fool if you think otherwise.”

He has no better defense other than to say you knowingly got entangled with a Harbinger. You could argue the point, call him on his bluff, hurl every insult under the sun at him. He’d let you too — it might as well be your right. You do no such thing. You don’t even storm out of the room in a huff. Instead, you pull the sheets up to cover your bare chest, fluff out your favorite pillows, and smooth out the wrinkled blankets. Scaramouche has to glance over his shoulders to confirm what it is you’re actually doing. Sure enough, you’ve closed your eyes, and are well on your way to falling asleep.

He shakes his head in complete and utter disbelief.

It would seem that he could never understand you, not even in your last night shared together.

v.

You don’t come to see him off on his voyage.

His ego might be larger than any numerical measurement could hope to quantify, but not even that could make him believe you’d have any kind words left for him. That was the point of him pushing you away, wasn’t it? To enjoy you up until the very last second then make a clean break? Still, he can’t help but feel troubled by the dejection looming over him like storm clouds in your absence. What a pain. It appears you’re destined to annoy him no matter the circumstances.

Standing atop the upper deck, he overlooks the desolate landscape of Schenzaya that seemingly stretches on forever. Muted grays and blues blend together in a dreary canvas befitting of his current mood. Fatui soldiers rush around from all directions, though they do their best to avoid the space Scaramouche occupies, leaving him to brood in silence. The dark aura emanating off of him does well to warn others off.

Scaramouche doesn’t understand why this debacle is troubling him so when he knew it was coming. His ultimate goal has always been obtaining a gnosis or any other path to divinity, that didn’t change when you came stumbling along. He needs to get over this inconvenience promptly. For him to fulfill his lifelong dream, he must ensure his chest is a blank slate. He even abandoned his childlike longing for a heart upon recognizing this. Everything must be stripped clean for what is to come next. This mire plaguing him is no different — he’ll wash and drown it out.

Suddenly unable to stomach the view any longer, he pivots and makes for his private cabin. The mere thought that you’re somewhere out there, far beyond his grasp, where others take kindly to you… he could almost get sick. If you were likable enough for him to ease up in your presence, who else would succumb to your charms? He balls his hands into fists by his side. You could do so well for yourself and he loathes the thought. There’d be some admittedly petty satisfaction if he was confident you’d be alone forever after him, but it just isn’t realistic. Irksome woman. Damn you for being enjoyable company and easy on the eyes. Damn you for making him care in the slightest.

Those he strides past either scramble to occupy themselves with busy work or fixate on the floor. He pays them no mind, viewing them as insignificant as the chipped wooden planks beneath his feet. By the time he gets to his cabin’s doors, fatigue falls upon him, though his long journey is just beginning. He shoves the doors open with enough force that the hinges shriek in protest. His kasa is pushed slightly askew from the doors slamming shut, yet he cannot think to fix it or anything else. Not when he sees what awaits him inside.

Not when he sees you. Lounging on his bed as if it’s the most regular thing ever, a framed picture of yourself in your hands that he brought along against his better judgment.

“I’ve got to say, this shot looks pretty good,” you hum. “Although I have no memory of it being taken, so that’s creepy. Do I even want to know how you got this?”

… You probably don’t, but that’s beside the point.

Scaramouche all but stomps over to where you sit. He is a bundle of unsteady energy that is ready to explode at the slightest trigger. You smile at him as he leers down at you, his eyes twitching from how nonchalant you are about this intrusion. Yes, that’s exactly what this is, an intrusion, you’re entangling yourself into something beyond your scope. Beyond your comprehension.

“How,” He narrows his eyes, jamming an accusatory finger in your direction, “The hell did you get in here?”

His personal security might completely pale in comparison to him, but they should be competent enough to keep the likes of you at bay.

“The same way you did, I imagine. The door.”

Scaramouche growls and you put your hands up in defense. “Okay, bad timing, sorry. I told the guards that if they didn’t let me in, I’d tell you about the time they came back from town drunk and tried flirting with me.”

The lightbulb overhead flickers from the electricity Scaramouche exudes.

“They what?”

“Ah, sorry Grigoriy and Igor…”

He shakes his head, deciding to return to that egregious revelation later.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw you overboard.”

You part your lips and then close them, eyebrows furrowing together. Whatever it is you’re mulling over, he doesn’t know why he gives you the time, or why he waits with bated breath. He longs to chalk it up to you being dense. How much simpler that would be, if he could insult your intelligence and call it a day. Deep down, he knows the truth is far more complex than that. You have your reasons for doing what you do. There’s intentionality interwoven into your being, no matter how casual you act. It’s what lures him in and keeps him trapped.

He never knows what you’ll do or say next — and he always wants to stick around just a while longer to see.

“Last night, you told me you only wanted the gnosis,” you set the frame down and fold your hands onto your lap. “I thought about that for a while. Not because it surprised me, but because you chose to stop at that. I couldn’t understand why. I know you’re greedy. I know you want more… you want me.”

You tilt your head, your eyes crinkling and full of mirth. It’s enchanting. “So be greedy. Want me as much as I want you. If your kindness is pushing me away, then I don’t care for it, because I’m greedy too. I only want kindness from you if we can both enjoy it. Talking for hours about the silliest things… arguing about topics neither of us really care about… you making me matcha tea in the middle of the night ‘because I whisk it like I’m trying to break your bowl’. That’s the weird, twisted kindness that I’ll accept.”

Scaramouche has never felt so light and heavy at the same time.

“You’re serious about this?”

“One hundred and ten percent.”

“I’m worse than you think I am.”

“That isn’t too surprising.”

“Way worse,” he’s breathless, his face is on fire, and he wants to kiss you senseless until you are too. “If you think I was greedy before, you haven’t seen anything yet. You can’t promise yourself to me without knowing that. I won’t stop at anything to keep you all to myself. If you betray me like my m…”

His voice threatens to crack, but he manages to smooth it over, “If you betray me, I might just destroy this world and everyone in it.”

Including himself.

Your hands are cradling his face. He sees his reflection in your eyes and it's a vulnerable sight that hasn’t stared back at him for centuries. It disgusts him, taunts him, and unearths memories that he thought he buried six feet under. He’s at his ugliest and you look at him as if he were beautiful. Despite himself, he leans into your touch. You were a priceless find. Some treasures were meant to be displayed for the entire world to envy; he decides that method isn’t for him. Your logic-defying ways were to be reserved for his viewing and no one else's.

“And if I never betray you?” You inquire, the pad of your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek. “What then, Kuni?”

His eyes are lidded when he responds. “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t understand trust or the concept of depending on another. In his earliest days, when these imperative truths were beginning to take root, the world burned it to the ground. He always thought the soil was poisoned beyond repair and left it at that. For if tried only to fail again, he’s certain he’d doomed himself to a cycle of disappointment in others.

“Well, I guess that means we’ll have to find out, won’t we?”

You make it sound so easy.

“... Fine. Suit yourself,” Scaramouche fights back a smile at the way you cheer in victory. “Something tells me if I threw you overboard, you’d just cling to the boat, anyway.”

You shoot him a wink. “I’ve been told I’m relentless at getting what I want.”

The imbeciles you surround yourself with might have a point.

Scaramouche knows the words were spoken in jest, yet he fixates on them. You want him. You want him. You want him. For better or for worse (he’s leaning toward worse), you’re still willing to put up with his endless list of negative qualities. He can’t remember the last time anyone offered him that, probably because no one ever has.

You start to move away and he holds you in place, stealing the kiss that’s been on his mind since you had the audacity to show up uninvited. His mouth slants against yours, his appetite voracious and demanding everything you could possibly offer. You reciprocate in kind, your lips curving upward, and your hands guiding his to settle on your hips.

You are the worst human, he thinks, pushing you back onto the bed and eliciting a gasp from you in response.

So it’s his job to see that you’re dealt with accordingly.

By him and him alone.

[06sunnybunny06]

Part 2 (Aren't we friends?)

♡♡♡♡

The next morning, when the sun was just rising above the horizon. You went on a treasure hunt. Why Child could control you so easily by playing his weird games. He seems to be quite good and looks like a good guy. It's just that Childe is your friend. That's the whole conversation.

The ancient map of Li Yue differs significantly from the modern one. Many buildings, at the moment, have turned into ruins. There may be a whole story behind a broken column. In fact, you are now watching the ghosts of the past. It would be interesting to move back in time and compare "before" and "after".

Come to think of it, you've never traveled outside of Li Yue. Before that, your home was a small village, hidden from prying eyes. The parents weren't bad, they just tried, as if they were hiding from something. The villagers loved to live the old-fashioned way. Thanks to them, you had a good childhood, but one question haunted you all the time.- "Why live in such a wilderness if there is a big city nearby?". No one tried to answer. You were greeted only with meaningful stares, as if you were asking stupid questions. As someone who grew up in the wilderness, far from crowded places, you wanted to see a different life. In the city, everything was different: the houses were tall, the rhythm of life was faster, even the people were completely different. My parents didn't really approve of the decision to move, but there was nothing they could do.

- Okay, we didn't break up on the best note, but so that we wouldn't even send a single letter all the time? And what is that supposed to mean?! Did they just forget about me?!

While unpleasant thoughts were wandering in my head. There was a crunch a few steps away. You were hiding behind the trees nearby without thinking. No matter how beautiful nature and ancient structures are, this world is still dangerous. Any evil spirits can appear from anywhere.

Two figures appeared in the distance, looking like masked soldiers. If one of them is a little taller than you, then the other is quite huge. They also seem to be armed. The first one has a gun sticking out behind his back, and the second one has a gun...what is it? A huge hammer?! Just don't tell me that these are the fatuis that are not pleasant rumors about.

"How long do we have to stay here?" - you flinched when one of them started grumbling.

- Until the harbingers finish their work in Li Yue. Our task is to look for traitors, if you haven't forgotten.

A heavy sigh followed. - "Our work is hard in itself. You can simply be sent to another country and not be brought up to date for a long time. Some stay because they are simply forgotten! Fatuis are not liked by everyone anyway. What should we do then? Wait for the locals to devour?"

The soldier with the hammer turned his head. "Watch your mouth. If anyone finds out, you will be executed on the spot. Submission to the Queen is the law. It's better not to say too much."

- And yet I feel sorry for these people. They lived as if they didn't exist. Oh, I would also like to settle in a quiet village to meet my old age in peace, but that's all.

The second soldier nodded. - "Yes..."

- Considering who our boss is, we're not going to get it. They say he's a real psycho.

Their voices could be heard for some time, until they completely subsided behind the dense foliage. After waiting for some more time, you got out of your hiding place. Everything seems to be calm. They're gone. It was eerily scary to even move. Who knows what they are capable of?

You've looked around the area again. The map shows the way from point A to point B and nothing superfluous. It seems that you are close to your "treasures". Whatever it is.

As the journey continued, the familiar surroundings attracted attention. You've seen this place before. I'm just remembering when it was. "This can't be happening." - The legs walked faster. A familiar sight opened up on the hill. It was your native village. Is this really the destination? You were already suffocating from the strain. Childe couldn't have known about this place…

When you went downstairs, the familiar house of an elderly woman appeared around the corner. She used to look after you when your parents were away on business. Today she has been dead for a long time. Someone had to occupy an empty house. But there wasn't a soul on the street. The wind walked alone between the houses, leaving a void in its wake. Now you're really scared.

You found yourself near your house. It became so quiet that even the creaking of the stairs underfoot seemed like a thunderclap. When the hand reached for the handle, the door opened quietly. The house is not only empty, but also as if no one has lived here for a long time. Mom would never have allowed such a layer of dust, knowing her cleanliness.

You were trying to find at least some signs of life with your eyes when you noticed a piece of paper lying on the table. It seemed to have been placed in a prominent place on purpose. The piece of paper was quickly in your hands. A message was written in it:

"Hello, my dear. Congratulations to you! You've won our little game! I would like to see your smile, but there were some difficulties, so I couldn't come in person. I'm sorry, and I promise, this is the last time! A gift is waiting for you in your room!

With love, your friend is Childe.

You were in shock. How the hell does he know?! How does he know this place? Where are all the residents, and most importantly, where are your parents?!

The head turned towards the door. A little girl used to grow up behind her. The walls of the room remember a lot of emotions - from loud laughter to bitter tears. There was a small box with a bow on the bed. His hands trembled as he opened it. There was a silver ring inside. It wasn't just a decoration. It belonged to your mother. Fingers gently pulled it out of the box. Something else was born. Tears rolled down your cheeks when you noticed the dried maroon spots. The legs immediately rushed to the exit. Maybe they were running away from something, or it was all a bad dream. In the morning you will wake up in a cold sweat, not thinking about him anymore.

When you ran out of the house, a sharp pain pierced your head. The unconscious body collapsed to the ground. You distinctly heard someone say the word "damn." The tears continued to flow until my mind completely shut down.

You woke up in a dark room. Although there was a lamp on the bedside table, some dark areas were still difficult to see. The pain was sharp in the back of the head. You tried to sit up when a familiar voice rang out. "Are you finally awake?"

Your body is numb. It was Childe. He was waiting for your answer. You could barely squeeze out a couple of sentences in a painful voice. - "Yes. My head hurts terribly."

The guy almost purred when he heard your voice. So you're more than okay. "One of my soldiers underestimated his strength. He hit you on the head, but don't worry. I punished him personally." He sighed, suppressing his anger. Some fool dared to harm you. Tartaglia made it clear that you needed to be caught and disabled, not knocked out with all your might. Fortunately, he is no longer a tenant.

- A soldier? "there are memories behind the transparent veil. How did you come to an empty village, how did you find your mother's ring in the house..."

His right hand rose involuntarily, revealing a silver ornament on his index finger. You've always admired him. The image of the snowflake accurately conveyed the connection with its owner. Your mother, like you, had the vision of a Cryo. There was a midnight jade in the core, which shone with a blue light in the dark. My father gave it to me for their anniversary. This time it was completely clean.

- Why do I have my mother's ring on my finger?

Chade shuddered. He sighed heavily, sitting down next to her on the bed.

- The fact is that... I don't think there's any point in lying to you. Since you're in danger, it's better to find out everything at once.

You looked at him expectantly as he began his story.

"I am the eleventh harbinger of Fatua, and it is my duty to do the Queen's will. She is the ruler of the Snow Kingdom. Each fatui must take an oath of allegiance, entrusting his life to her. If the oath is not fulfilled for one reason or another, the person will die. Those who shirk their duty become traitors and face the same fate. I have nothing against your parents, but they were previously from Fatua, and I think you know how it ended....

You didn't believe his words. More precisely, they didn't reach you. - "No. This is your stupid joke again, isn't it? Are you lying to me as always?" "You didn't even notice yourself when you started crying again. Everything fits together very well. The puzzle is coming together. Their caution was always infuriating. It seemed to you that a free person should be happy and not be afraid of anything. But they were trapped in their fears from the very beginning. The Fatuis were hunting for them. As a result, they are no more. And whose fault is it? "Are they dead? Did you kill them?"

Childe began to shake his head negatively. "I wouldn't dare. You know, I have a family myself..."

You sobbed, burying your face in the blanket. What's going to happen now? How to live with the thought of the death of your family now. You didn't even have time to say goodbye.…

Childe hugged you. His heart hurt more with every tear that fell out of your eyes. If there was an option not to cripple your psyche..

- You know, I helped you with something.

You lifted your head, wiping away the remnants of your tears. - "What are you talking about?"

"You would have suffered the same fate if I hadn't intervened. The authorities wanted to get rid of all the recalcitrants, but you were not in Fatui when they escaped.

You nodded, and the guy smiled with satisfaction. "I have an idea. In order not to attach you to this dangerous organization as another unfortunate soldier. So I decided to marry you.....Ta-da!"

Your eyes widened and stared at him, but Childe continued. "The Queen has approved our marriage. It turns out that you were born in Snezhnaya. This means that it will be right to return you to the embrace of your native land. My family is waiting for my return. They will be glad to meet you."

"Are you saying that our marriage is my salvation?"

The guy nodded. "I personally buried your parents in another place. It seemed to me that it would be better than lying in a mass grave. Your mother's ring will be our bond. It will be difficult to accept their death, but nothing can be done. I'll be there to help you deal with everything."

You were grateful for his help. Although this is not the life you planned, it's still better than serving a dangerous organization.

Your face brightened, and you nodded approvingly. Childe could barely restrain himself from grabbing you and kissing you. He must not spoil this moment. Everything is going too well.

"I'd like to see the graves." I need to say goodbye to them at least like that.

Tartaglia nodded at your wish. -"Of course dear. You need to visit them so they don't worry about you. Then you will definitely be free." - He took you in his arms again. This is the best day of his life, and it will be even better when you get married....

[pluckyredhead]

Okay but I am fascinated by Orion and Scott's relationship.

Because for Orion, there must be so much guilt, right? He got to grow up in Heaven because Scott grew up in Hell. Highfather Omelased Scott so that Orion could have a childhood frolicking in rolling green pastures with Lightray and sleeping in a bed made of unicorn farts.

But at the same time I feel like there's also some resentment. Because Scott had the unhappy childhood...so why is Orion the unhappy adult? Why is Scott the well-adjusted one?

(Is Scott actually well-adjusted? He's very good at pretending he is. And I don't think it's entirely a mask. I think Scott is genuinely a pretty lighthearted, upbeat person, and that's part of what saved him from being broken on Apokolips before he could escape. But it's also a defense mechanism. He's a performer by nature and by trade.

I also think he's a deeply avoidant person. Unpleasant feelings? Uncomfortable conversations? Oh no, Scott is going to escape right the fuck out of that! So even though he absolutely is deeply traumatized by his upbringing - King's Mister Miracle was not the first time Scott has canonically had suicidal impulses - he is simply Not Going To Deal With It.

And this is a mask Orion is completely unequipped to see through. No one on New Genesis is familiar with the concept of "not saying exactly what you mean and how you feel literally all the time." I think Orion might be misread as stoic sometimes but he is super not! He literally just says how he feels all the time always! He's never lied even one single time in his life except for how on Earth he goes by O'Ryan instead of Orion! He has no ability to unpack "This person is pretending to be totally okay but actually they're only somewhat okay." Orion has never been somewhat anything.)

So yes anyway I feel like Orion is a little jealous and resentful that...somehow Scott still landed in a better place than him, for certain definitions of "better"? He's happy, he's well-adjusted, he has friends, he has a loving and functional marriage. Meanwhile Orion is having regular rage blackouts on a flying scooter.

But then he feels guilty again because how can he resent Scott after what he took from him? (Not that Orion had any choice in or even real knowledge of the Pact, but if you think Orion is going to let himself off the hook because he was a traumatized bald child when it happened, you don't know Orion.)

The other interesting thing is that even though Scott seems like the affectionate people person, it's Orion who makes all the overtures. Orion is the one who consistently refers to Scott as his brother (Scott's a little all over the map on this one). Orion wishes out loud that they were closer. Lonely, lonely Orion, who has absolutely no one in the universe who understands the tortured duality of his nature ("I am two worlds - like New Genesis, and that demon's pit - Apokolips! - One drifting forever in the shadow of the other - "), longs to hang with the one guy who might get it.

Whereas Scott...well, Scott's harder to read because he doesn't make a speech every time he has an emotion. He doesn't ever display any hostility towards Orion (King's MM run aside, which...yes, please, let's put it aside forever), but he also rarely demonstrates the same interest in building a relationship. His most loving gesture was pretending to be injured one time so that Orion would have to go fight Darkseid in order to lay flowers on a mass grave in Scott's place (it did actually make Orion feel better, so there's that).

I don't think Scott blames Orion, intellectually. I think he blames Highfather, as he should. (Not getting into whether Highfather ultimately made the right choice, just saying that Orion didn't get a choice at all.) And I think Scott is VERY VERY UNCOMFORTABLE with blaming Highfather, because it means he really has to think about what happened to him. In general, I think being around both Highfather and (to a lesser extent) Orion raises a lot of extremely uncomfortable thoughts and feelings and very painful memories, and so he just...escapes. He avoids being around them completely. It's very telling that Scott lives on Earth by choice and almost every time we see him on New Genesis, he's longing to leave. Being on New Genesis makes it impossible to avoid the Bad Thoughts.

So yeah, as much as I want to see these two having adventures together and hugging it out on the daily, I don't know that they can ever have the closeness Orion wants. (And god, can you imagine how much he would beat himself up if he knew that his desire for closeness was hurting Scott? It would be delicious.) But one of the reasons I love Simonson's Orion is that they find roundabout ways to show caring with the limited vocabulary they have, and maybe that's the best we can hope for.

[chaiiitime]

It Happened One Summer Night

Summary : A broken car. A sleepy little village. It was a scary feeling to see all the excuses you made to hate each other slowly crumble away. Wild curls. Inked skin. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to let go.

Stranded together off the beaten path, Adriana and Daniel realised it was too easy to give in to the feelings growing between them.

Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x OC!Fem

Warning : Sexual themes, 18+

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Chapter 5

“Alrighty, here we are,” Daniel pulled up through the gates Adriana had indicated. “Delivered safe and sound as promised,” he said as he playfully tipped his cap towards her. 

“Even though you nearly got us killed back there,” he added cheekily. 

Adriana gasped indignantly. “I so did not! Anyway, it wasn’t my fault!”

“Sure, it wasn’t,” Daniel teased back. 

They’d left the village late in the morning, the two of them taking turns driving to reach Jerez in time for the rehearsal dinner. And now that they were finally in front of her grandmother’s farmhouse, it truly hit Adriana that her little adventure with Daniel was over. 

She needed to get out of the car, go find her mother and Carmen and get ready, but yet, neither she nor Daniel made a move to get out. She wondered if he was feeling the same confusing emotions as her. His right hand was resting on his knee and he was doing that thing with his cuticles. She knew him well enough now to know that this little tick of his meant he wasn’t as unruffled as he appeared. 

Say something to him. 

She turned towards him, surprised that he was already looking at her. He leaned slightly forward, his breath fanning over her face. His eyes looked more hazel than brown in the afternoon sunlight and they held an intent look that made Adriana shiver. Daniel reached out, his hand clasping hers, his thumb grazing the fluttering pulse at her wrist. 

“Daniel, I —“

Just then, Carmen burst out of the house, George following behind “You guys are finally here!” Carmen exclaimed. “We were so worried about you!”

Moment gone, Daniel let go of her hand as they slowly got out of the car and were instantly bombarded with questions from George and Carmen. Adriana stayed mostly quiet, grateful for the way Daniel could pretend to be nonchalant as he dismissed their questions with his usual humour.  Then Carmen was leading her into the house and George got into the car to take Daniel to the B&B where the rest of the guests were staying. 

For a brief moment, their eyes met and Daniel flashed her a tiny smile, just a little quirk of his lips and the simple familiarity of that gesture felt like a promise for much more to her.

~

“How was it with Daniel?”

Adriana looked up from where she was wrangling with the steamer, trying to get the creases out of her bridesmaid dress. Carmen was lounging on the bed, already in her pyjamas and a face mask on as she munched on some almonds. 

“Wh-what do you mean?” Had Carmen seen the way she kept looking at Daniel all through the welcome dinner? 

“I know you don’t exactly like him. So —“ Carmen shrugged, “I was just wondering how you survived the last few days with him.”

Adriana’s hand stilled on the steamer. Should she tell her sister that she’d let Daniel touch her in the most intimate of ways? That she’d let him kiss her till she was breathless? That she’d spent the last few mornings waking up next to him? That she was afraid she might be falling in love with him — if she was not already there? 

She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. “It was alright,” she ducked her head, frowning at one particularly stubborn crease. “He was very nice.”

Carmen hummed, as if she was considering whether to say something or not. “He’s very funny and charming, isn’t he?” She said finally. “I knew you’d get along with him once you gave him a chance.”

Adriana could only nod mutely as she avoided her sister’s eyes. She wanted to ask Carmen how she knew she was in love with George, how she knew George was the one for her. She knew what she felt for Daniel was maybe just infatuation, born out of their forced closeness over the past few days, but she knew she would always regret it if she at least didn’t explore whatever was between them.  She’d been dying to go talk to him earlier tonight, but she’d had a million things to do as maid of honour and the only time she’d managed to get away, Daniel had been talking to Toto. 

Tomorrow could be her only chance to tell Daniel how she really felt and she was going to make sure she didn’t waste it.

~

Daniel watched as Adriana escorted an old lady back to her table, smiling as she bent down to patiently listen to whatever the old lady was telling her.  

He loved this soft side of her, the one that had a smile for everybody, the one that fiercely loved her family and the one, as Daniel had come to realise, who would do anything to make sure her sister had the perfect day.  He also loved the prickly side of her, the one that could be no-nonsense to a fault, the one who always had a sarcastic little quip ready for him. He loved sparring with her.  He loved her dry sense of humour. She kept him on his toes.  If Blake was here, he would have said that she’d got him by the balls – and he wouldn’t be wrong. 

He was quite simply obsessed with her. 

From the moment he’d seen Adriana walk down the aisle earlier that day, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her. Daniel was pretty sure bridesmaid dresses weren’t meant to be sexy – but the deep-pink number she wore accentuated every single curve of her body. The back — or lack thereof — exposed the smooth golden expanse of her skin and dipped so low Daniel could almost see her dimples of Venus. He itched to reach out and touch her, especially when the knowledge of just how soft her skin was tormented him. 

He watched as some guy approached her and said something to make her laugh. He felt a flash of jealousy that he had no business feeling. Adriana deserved more than the casual fling he could offer her. It wasn’t that he was commitment phobic. He came from a pretty stereotypical Italian family and he’d grown up seeing his parents’ love for each other. Most of his mates back home were married with kids now. Of course, he wanted that kind of stable and wholesome life for himself. He’d always thought he’d get ‘round to having a family of his own once his life didn’t revolve around racing as much, but that seemed pretty far off for the time being . 

He’d always been selfish when it came to prioritising his career. Maybe even more so now after staring at the possible death of it. When he got the chance to be back in the sport, he’d promised himself he would not let anything take him away from making the most of this second chance. His chance to create his own legacy. His chance to not be just another passing footnote in the history of the sport. 

And a relationship was just that — a distraction because a relationship demanded time and effort and compromise. And Daniel couldn’t afford that kind of distraction now, but he was a greedy gluttonous bastard. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He wanted to have Adriana without having to change anything about his priorities. 

“Hey, man.” Daniel looked up as Lewis sat down next to him. He was pretty sure he and Lewis had already exhausted their quota of conversation topics for the year. They’d already discussed whatever steward decision they’d not been happy with, Lewis’s new tequila venture and Daniel’s merch. They pretty much had nothing left to talk about but it was pretty inevitable that they were back at the same table given how outside of Alex – who was a groomsman – and a few other Mercedes people, they were the only drivers who had been invited for the wedding.  

“Why do you look so serious?” Lewis asked as he sipped his drink. His eyes followed Daniel’s line of sight and ended on Adriana.  “Oh, I see,” he drawled, hiding an amused grin behind his glass.

“What?” Daniel asked. He took a sip of the champagne they’d served with the wedding cake and winced – champagne only ever tasted good to him when he was drinking it on a podium. 

“Come on, man,” Lewis leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs over his knees.  “I can’t believe you, of all people, are hesitating to go up to a woman after all the crazy stories I’ve heard about you over the years.”

“Look who’s talking,” Daniel said jokingly, trying to steer Lewis away from talking about him.  “I distinctly remember a story about you on a yacht with a certain top model back in 2018, I think it was,” he said, raising his eyebrows almost mockingly.

Lewis stayed quiet, watching as Daniel anxiously twirled the stem of his glass as he furtively sneaked glances at Carmen’s sister.  In all the years that Lewis had known him, Daniel had never shown any kind of vulnerability, except maybe for that moment at McLaren.  They were Formula One drivers after all, they knew one sign of weakness and all the jackals would pounce – like Lewis did now.

“So, it’s like that, huh?” Lewis said.

“What?” Daniel asked quizzically, his brows furrowed.

Lewis quirked his eyebrows, as if to say you very well know what I mean. He gestured towards where Adriana was standing.  “You’re in deep shit, aren’t you?” He said with a laugh.  “This isn’t about a fun one night stand kind of thing, is it?  This is more like ‘should we sync our Google calendars’ kind of thing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Daniel could feel the hot flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.  He was a bit mad that Lewis had so quickly zeroed in on what was bothering him, especially when Lewis was one of the few that fiercely protected his own space.

“Look, man.” Lewis leaned forward and it reminded Daniel of the time when Lewis had taken him aside before his first race in 2011 to offer his advice.  “If you’re interested in the girl, you should go and talk to her.  You’re not going to be able to drive that beast car of yours well if your balls are blue and with all this pinning.  Trust me, you can’t have anything distract you when you’re in a championship fight.”

Daniel gave a little embarrassed huff but said nothing as he thought over what Lewis had just told him.  They both sat in silence as they watched the guy who had been talking to Adriana lead her to the dance floor.  Adriana glanced at Daniel over the guy’s shoulder, and Daniel could see the same yearning he felt reflected in her eyes.

“Oh for god’s sake, man! Can you do both of you a favour and go up to her already?!” Lewis nearly shouted.

“Ok, fine!” Daniel pushed his chair back and stood up.  He stopped, bending down towards Lewis.  “Don’t you dare tell anybody about this, though.  Because if you do, I have all the details of your wild days from Jenson and I won’t hesitate to tell Lando about it and you know he isn’t one to keep secrets.”

“I’ll wait for my wedding invite in the post!” Lewis laughed as Daniel turned back to flip him off.

~

“Mind if I cut in?” 

Adriana’s heart knocked against her ribcage as Daniel stood in front of her, looking so handsome and serious in his tuxedo and bowtie.

He didn’t give her time to properly excuse herself as he took her hands and guided her to a quieter and darker part of the dance floor.  He laid his hands on her bare back, his warmth branding her skin.  The song playing over the speakers was upbeat, but Daniel held her close, swaying her gently to his own rhythm.

“You look very beautiful,” he said quietly.

“You’re not looking too bad yourself,” she quipped.

“What – just not too bad?” He smirked, his dimples popping out. “Come on.”

Adriana laughed, slipping her arms around his neck.  “You are looking very handsome, Mr. Ricciardo.  In fact –” she looked up at him with a teasing smile, “my aunt Maria was definitely checking your ass out earlier.  Maybe you should consider giving her your number.’

“Maybe I will,” his fingers trailed down her spine.  “If this girl I’m interested in leaves me hanging.”

“Oh yeah?” Her voice was throaty as she spoke.

“Oh yeah,” Daniel echoed back.  “Maybe you know her – she’s been driving me crazy the past few days.”

They’d given up the pretense of dancing now, both of them standing pressed together, their breaths in sync.

“I think I’m done dancing now,” Adriana whispered in his ear. 

Daniel looked down at her upturned face, his hands pressing lightly just above the dimples in her back. There was a glint of wickedness in her eyes and Daniel was tempted to kiss her right there and then. Sink his hand into her hair and make a mess of her lipstick. 

“If we go now, there’s no coming back. You’re mine all night long,” he said roughly. 

“I’m counting on it,” her eyes flashed with heat and Daniel was instantly hard. He guided her out of the wedding tent with his hand on her elbow, trying to not show his desperation to get her out of there. 

Once out in the night air, Adriana tugged on his arm. “There’s a gazebo just further out in the garden,” she whispered urgently against his lips. 

Daniel stopped her, his hand snaking around her waist. “Hell nah. Our first proper time is not going to be in some fucking gazebo with me looking over my shoulder for people.” He pressed a hard kiss against her lips. “I want you laid out on a bed so that I can take my sweet time with you,” he said as he hustled her towards where he’d parked the rental car. 

He pressed her against the passenger door as he fished the car keys out of his pockets. Adriana slipped her hands up into his curls, her nails scratching his scalp as she brought him down for a kiss. Daniel gave in to her seduction, their tongues tangling together as they desperately tried to get closer. 

Daniel broke away, his breaths choppy. “Okay, okay. Let’s get out of here,” he said with a groan as he nearly wrenched out the passenger door in his hurry to get her inside. He drove like a madman back to his B&B, his hand pressing into the soft skin of her thighs all the way over.

They tumbled into his room, Adriana instantly seeking him out to pick up where they’d left off against the car. Daniel grabbed her hands, pinning them behind her back in his right grasp as his left hand came up to softly cup her face, his thumb grazing the beauty mark just above her lips. 

He bent his head, kissing the base of her throat, feeling the fluttering of her pulse against his lips. 

“Let’s take our time, shall we?” He whispered huskily against the curve of her neck. His lips traced a blazing path over her skin before they finally captured hers in a kiss. 

The kiss was decadent. Depraved. Drugging. Adriana could taste the champagne on his lips and it made her head spin. She strained against his hold on her — helpless, desperate. “Please, let me touch you,” she moaned against his ear. 

Daniel pulled back slightly, his pupils blown wide open as he took in her swollen lips and smeared lipstick. He let go of her hands and watched as she slipped them inside his tuxedo jacket. Her fingers lightly traced the golden studs of his shirt as they crept up towards his neck. She tugged on one end of his bow tie, undoing it as her fingers nimbly opened the top button of his shirt. 

Daniel tipped his head back with a groan as her tongue delved into the divot at the base of his throat, tentative and bold at the same time. 

“This works both ways, baby,” he said as he recaptured her lips in a kiss. His hands moulded over her hips as he trailed them up her body, cursing as he grappled with the delicate buttons at the back of her neck that held the halter of her dress closed. Adriana took over, undoing them with practised ease. She reached for the zipper that ran on one side of her dress and inched it down. Her dress slithered down her body, falling in a pool at her feet, leaving her standing in front of him in nothing more than her matching deep-pink silk thong and heels. 

“Holy fuck.” Daniel walked back, leaning against the bureau as he looked at her. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he took her in — from the flushed pink of her puffy nipples to the way her hips flared out into generous curves, a few faint stretch marks marring her skin there. He could see where her wetness had darkened the material of her thong and he ached to slip his hand past the material hiding her from view and feel that wetness on his fingers. 

Adriana’s nipples tightened in the cool air of the room. She should have felt self-conscious, standing in front of him almost naked while he was still fully dressed, but yet his gaze warmed her all over. Emboldened by the lust in his eyes, she moved towards him, arching her body against his. The rough material of his tuxedo felt downright dirty as it rubbed against her bare body. Tongues tangling, Daniel lifted her up and carried her to the bed, depositing her on it with a soft bounce. 

He stepped back and quickly dropped his jacket to the ground. Adriana lifted herself up on her elbows, watching as he efficiently unbuttoned his shirt, unmindful of where the studs fell on the floor. Her breath caught as his hand came to rest on his belt. She licked her lips in anticipation and Daniel gave her a teasing smile. 

Those few days spent on the beach had given her the chance to admire his body — the tight lines of his obliques, the graceful sloping curves of his shoulders, the whorls of curling hairs that grew from the centre of his chest to fan out over his pecs. The way his abs could flex and flit in the light, bringing out an interesting play of ripples and indentations, but she’d yet to see that part of him. 

She watched in fascination as he tugged his zipper down, pushing his trousers and boxers over his hips and discarding them carelessly to the side. Then he was standing in front of her in all his naked glory. 

Of course, he was a beautiful man. 

His cock stood out, proud and thick in a thatch of dark hairs, curving almost upwards towards his stomach. She watched as he palmed his dick, his thumb swiping over the smooth purple head. Adriana wanted to feel the weight of his dick in her mouth, inside of her. Wanted to taste the saltiness of the bead of pre-cum on his tip. Wanted to run her tongue on the bulging vein that ran on the underside of his shaft. 

His quads bunched and flexed as he got on the bed between her knees, attracting her attention to his tattoos and Adriana got the answer to a question that had been tormenting her — his thigh tattoos did indeed go quite far up. 

Daniel quickly undid the clasp of her heels, placing a soft kiss on the arch of each foot. His hands moulded over her calves, his thumbs digging into the soft skin of her thighs as they came to rest at the sensitive juncture of her thighs and hips. 

“You know, a few days ago, I wouldn’t have pegged you for one to wear pink underwear,” he said as his fingers trailed along the waistband of her thong. 

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she sucked in a breath as his fingers dipped lightly inside. “I unfortunately wear very basic underwear in my daily life.”

“Basic or not,” he flashed her his usual wolffish smile, “they look better off your body,” he said as he tugged at the soaked material and stripped it off her body. He then sat back on his knees and took in the wanton image she presented — hair spread out on the pillows, the fading hickey he’d left days before on her right breast and the way her arousal was smeared on the inside of her thighs. 

Daniel bent down, his broad shoulders pushing her legs wide open. She was hot and wet and pink where his finger parted her, almost pulsating in anticipation. He placed an open wet kiss right at the centre of her core. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to taste you since that day on the beach,” he said as his tongue licked along the slit, the wet sucking noise of his mouth mixing with her breathy moans. 

He looked up at her, taking in her heaving breasts as he pressed two long fingers inside of her, curling them upwards to hit that sweet spot. Her knees closed on instinct, trying to keep his hands there as she rode his fingers. 

“No,” Daniel said on a harsh breath. “Let me see,” he said as he pinned her legs open, watching his fingers move in and out of her in satisfaction. 

“Daniel, please —“ she moaned. His fingers inside of her felt incredible, but she needed something a bit more. She needed him inside of her. She lifted herself up on one elbow, reaching out to grasp him at the base of his shaft. She gave him a firm and long stroke, Daniel’s head tipping back with a groan as she swiped her thumb over his smooth head. He was hard and heavy in her fist. Warm velvet stretched over steel. He was already thick, her fingers barely wrapping around him but she felt him grow impossibly larger as she stroked him. 

Daniel let out a litany of curses. The little minx was going to be the death of him. He pushed her hand away, smearing her juices over his dick with his fingers as he guided himself inside of her, the tip of his cock sliding over her clit. Her wet heat sucked him in, her walls fluttering around him. She felt good. Too damn good. 

“Shit, shit,” Daniel withdrew from her as Adriana whined in protest. “Condom,” he said as he got up and stumbled towards his suitcase. He rooted around for the box he always travelled with, depositing it on the bed as he tore a packet open with his teeth. 

Adriana thought it was the sexiest sight she’d ever seen. Daniel on his knees on the bed, his tattoos a bright canvas on the bunching muscles of his quads as he slid the condom over his member with adept skill. Then he was moving towards her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he slowly sunk into her, his shaft dragging over her engorged nerves. They both moaned when he was finally fully seated inside of her. He filled her up, the sensation almost bordering on pain as his wide girth almost split her in half. 

Daniel rested his forehead against hers, his breaths puffing out against her lips as he tried to get himself under control. Then, he slipped his hands under her hips, tilting her slightly upwards such that with every thrust, his pubic bone rubbed against her clit and his tip hit that sweet spot inside of her. 

His body was a live wire, all-tightening sinews as he fucked her in short and fast rhythmic thrusts. He held her body achingly close to his, her breasts crushed against his chest, her nipples rubbing against his chest hairs. 

Adriana had thought sex with Daniel would be a light and fun affair. She hadn’t expected him to be this intense and serious. His desire had pulled the planes of his face in stark relief. One of his hands cupped her chin, keeping her mouth open for him as he kissed her, his tongue mimicking the motions of his hips. All the pleasure coalesced at the point where he was spearing into her, the heavy weight of him inside of her becoming the focal point of her world. Her hips gyrated off the bed, undulating to meet each of his thrusts as she desperately sought to draw him even further into the wet clasp of her body. 

Daniel groaned, the sound coming deep from his body. Her heat was an all-consuming fire, electrifying him. Their bodies slapped together, slick with sweat. A bead of sweat rolled off his brow, dripping down onto Adriana’s breasts, mixing with her own sweat. Daniel bent down, chasing it with his tongue. He could tell she was close, her nails scratching wildly at his back, her walls clamping down on him. 

He shifted her legs higher up on his waist, his hips snapping forward with gathering force. He knew the exact moment the coil inside of her sprung free. Her walls spasmed around him, her hips nearly lifting off the bed as her nails punctured his skin. Daniel swallowed her hoarse moans into his mouth, then he set about chasing his own release. He thrust into her with almost animalistic force, his movements turning erratic as he let go. 

He threw his head back, the tendons of his neck straining, his teeth bared in a snarl as he came on a silent growl. 

He crashed down on her, his head coming to rest between her breasts. They both laid there, trying to catch their breath as they came down from their high. Daniel slipped out of her, tilting his body to the side and wrapping an arm around her waist to bring her with him. 

“This was —“ Daniel started breathlessly. “Wow.”

“I know,” Adriana whispered back, pressing her cheek against his. 

~

Adriana woke up feeling a delicious ache in her body. She smiled as she remembered how Daniel had reached for her in the middle of the night, slipping into her with both of them still half-asleep. Their second time had been tender, Daniel bringing her to a slow orgasm that had felt even more powerful than the first. 

She turned around, looking at him. He was lying on his belly, which as she’d found out, was his preferred sleeping position. He was looking at her with sleepy eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“Good morning,” he said as his fingers lightly trailed over her arm, tracing the curve of her breasts. 

“Morning,” Adriana murmured back. His curls were sticking up on one side, making him look almost adorably boyish. Adriana could only imagine how she looked with her day-old makeup on her face, but that didn’t seem to bother Daniel as he brought her in for a soft kiss. 

“I was thinking,” he said between kisses, “I have a few free days before I have to start training for the second half of the season. I was thinking maybe I’ll drive the rental car back to Barcelona.” His roving hands had now slipped to her tits, cupping them in his warm palms. “Maybe stop in little seaside villages along the way.” His thumbs were now caressing her nipples, a small smile appearing on his lips as he felt them pebble against his hands. “What do you say about accompanying me?” 

Adriana moaned as she looped her arms around his neck, arching into his touch. “Yes, yes,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him. 

She didn’t want this dream to be over.