#beautiful man hideous hair

[corrine-dartagnan]

one of my biggest gripes about the newer barbie show is how dirty they did ken. why does he look like a military boy about to go off to war??

[kitorin]

"I need you to be completely honest with me right now."

"What's wrong, Rin?" Another page turns, your eyes remain glued to the novel, head resting on his thighs as his fingers occasionally poke your cheek.

"Am I ugly?"

The question makes you choke on your spit; Itoshi Rin, the very man who had you infatuated at first glance with his prominent eye lashes and his wintry gaze, just asked if he was hideous.

"Who the hell said that?" The surprise makes you sit up, and Rin barely dodges collision with your head. It's common knowledge that he couldn't care less about his appearance, skin and hair care were simply for hygiene, which was all that mattered to him. There's anger heating up at the thought of someone breaking his indifference, and it reveals itself through your speech

"No one, Yukimiya's photographer came for a photo shoot. Everything went well until I noticed the lines on my face."

"Lines?"

He nods "They weren't there before." His fingers ghost over an area near his cheeks. "Apparently they're not supposed to be there." Rin reaches into his pocket, unlocking it and showing you a photo.

It's a photo of him, Hiori and Yukimiya, the three of them grinning whilst being covered in designer brands. Nothing seemed wrong, it's an adorable photo; revealing Rin's typically concealed dimples, eyes squinting with joy, the kind of smile he uses when he's genuinely happy, instead of the polite and subtle one he gives to interviewers.

"I don't see an issue."

"Here." He zooms into his face. "Those things." His lithe fingers point towards the area between the sides of his nose and the corners of his mouth. Smile lines.

"Fans said they shouldn't be there. So, am I ugly now?"

There's a legitimate confusion laced with his tone, and you silently thank how he decided to talk about it with you before believing in whatever comments were left on Instagram.

"First, whatever fans say have no credibility, they're just people on the internet. Second." You climb into his lap again, cupping his cheeks and once again getting lost in the depths of his beryl irises. "Those are called smile lines. You're not ugly for having them, and never will be." His aquamarine eyes gaze back, as you brush a strand of hair out of his face.

"Even if they weren't there before?"

"Of course. They're a sign you're living a life filled with joy and happiness. And that is more beautiful than any beauty standard out there, and so are you." Your thumbs trace the creases, the entirety of your palms can feel the warmth of his cheeks, savouring how the softness contrasts the callousness of your hands. "You're beautiful, you always have been and always will be. Don't listen to anyone who says otherwise."

Your lips plant a kiss on his forehead, and you soon return to admiring every crevice of his face. From the viridescent azure irises and the eyelashes which adorn them, how surprisingly soft and squishy his cheeks are (of course only you'll ever know that).

"Thank you for putting them there then."

"Hm?"

"I never had reasons to smile. Not until I met you."

Anyone can tell Itoshi Rin seldom expresses emotion, let alone joy; but you had always assumed he kept it to himself rather than believe nothing was worth his jubilation.

His hands reach for yours, fingers ghosting over them. "Thank you for brightening my life, for being the reason why I'm able to live so happily." Gently, his hand pries one of yours off his face, placing a kiss on it. "I love you."

Rin smiles; it's soft, exposing his dimples and smile lines, cheeks matching his lips in colour. You're pretty sure you're just as flushed.

A quick peck to his lips (he still tastes like the persimmon haichuu you were eating together earlier) and you swear he somehow grows redder. "Does this mean I'm allowed to have the last ice cream?"

"You're supposed to say it back dumbass. And fuck no, that's mine." Despite his callous language he picks you up into a cradle carry, placing you down besides him, soon making his way to the front door. "What flavours do you want? And what kind and which brand?"

"Awww, I love you too, I want the vanilla and melon soft serve by the way."

Rin scoffs. "Of course you only say it back when I'm doing you a favour." But he's pocketing his wallet, and about to unlock the door to leave. "You're annoying."

"Yet you still love me."

"Are you sure? Because I'm buying every flavour of yukimidaifuku and you're not getting any. Milky candy too." You don't miss the smirk on his face at the sight of your disbelief.

"I hate you."

"Love you too darlin'."

[In the end "you're not getting any" was a lie]

Tagging: @yuzurins

[blackmarketfruitrollups]

Big Baby (Howl Pendragon X Fem!Reader)

A/N yeah this one's pretty short, sorry

Living with Howel Pendragon was nothing short of an adventure.

Between the moving castle, snippy fire demon, chaotic apprentice and melodramatic wizard, Y/N's life was rarely quiet, and never boring.

And today's adventure was picking up the pieces of a hair related meltdown.

"Come now you big baby, Sophie has apologized a hundred times about your hair!"

It had been about an hour since Howel had sprinted down the stairs shouting about his hair, and after preventing him from summoning the spirits of darkness, Y/N and Sophie had been able to haul the moping man out of the chair and up into bed. From there they had cleaned up the slimy manifestation of Howl's depressive state, much to Calcifer's relief.

And now here she was, standing in the middle of his room with her hands on her hips, scolding him for throwing such a hissy fit.

"You're a grown man and you need to act like it." She scolded. "I understand being upset, but honestly a temper tantrum was uncalled for."

He groaned, tossing his arm over his eyes before sighing out, "What use is living if I am hideous."

Y/N rolled her eyes, walking over to sit on the bed and moving his arm so she could see his entire face. Moving the hair out of his eyes, she gently cupped the side of his face with her hand, stroking his forehead with the other. She carefully coaxed him into opening his eyes, and smiled lovingly at him once he did, despite her previous frustration.

"My love I wish you could see how beautiful you are, no matter what you look like." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Being around you is like being bathed in sunlight, my dear. And quite frankly," she chuckled. "I quite like this new hair."

He raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her. "You do?"

"I do, darling."

"You swear it?"

"Indeed." She pressed another kiss to his forehead, drawing a smile out of him.

"Well, I guess it's not that bad." He smirked at her.

"Uh huh." She stood up and straightened out her skirt. "And now, you have someone you need to go apologize to."

"Right now?" He groaned. "Why not take a nap with me first, huh?"

"Now you baby."

[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 🤭✨✨

[runninriot]

written for the @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'behind the scenes'

fun to be famous

wc: 1000 | rated: M | cw: language | tags: famous Corroded Coffin, musicians Jeff, Gareth and Frank, frontman Eddie Munson, model Steve Harrington, the 'struggles' and perks of being famous

Eddie hates photo shoots. Hates the clothes the stylist chose for him to wear. Hates having to pose like a soulless mannequin just to portray some bullshit cliché - surrounded by cheap props like fucking plastic skulls with red glowing eyes that look absolutely hideous. Really ruins the magic of the end result when you know what’s going on behind the scenes.

But he knows it’s part of the game, part of what makes people want to buy their albums, and merch, and come to their shows.

It’s a small price to pay, really, when put in perspective. Because what’s a few hours of being uncomfortable if in return, they get to live their fucking dream.

To be the rock stars they always wanted to be, playing sold-out shows in huge arenas, listening to massive crowds singing their songs back to them.

Still, he hates it.

Especially because they always put him upfront, always the centerpiece of every goddamn magazine cover, as if the other members don’t matter as much. It's stupid but his band mates never complain about it. And maybe he brought it upon himself for being a bit of an attention whore on stage.

It was never a conscious choice; he’s always just being himself. Sue him for looking damn fucking good in his mesh tops, and skin-tight leather pants. For loving to make the crowd go wild when he struts around with his pierced nipples out in the open, wearing a skirt that barely covers his best bits, and thigh-high boots.

He loves to be just a little extravagant and coquettishly playful when putting on a show.

That, and the fact that he's always been unashamedly open about his sexuality and his many hook-ups in the past, gave him a certain… reputation. And he’s completely fine with that, really, as long as the way they’re marketing said image doesn't take away from the really important stuff, which is and always has been the music.

They are good at what they do, all of them, didn’t become famous for nothing.

Jeff, Gareth and Frank are exceptionally gifted musicians. And Eddie doesn’t just say this because they’ve been his best friends forever. It’s a fact. And without them, Corroded Coffin wouldn’t be the band it is.

Eddie wouldn’t be who he is without them.

That’s why he wants to protest when the photographer suggests to do a few shots of just Eddie, to ‘give the people what they want.’, but his treacherous friends beat him to it, agree happily to step back and let them do their thing.

He’s told to sit down on some kind of makeshift throne like he’s the Dark Lord himself, while someone calls for someone else to ‘bring in the models’.

Eddie’s mouth falls open when he sees the two ravishing beauties that look like they’ve just tumbled out of a kinky fantasy. The girl is petite with big blue eyes and the cutest smile, her strawberry blond hair in a high ponytail, dressed in lace and leather, enhancing the perfect shape of her body. She’s gorgeous and totally his type, but-

It's the other model, the guy, who has Eddie's full attention. Because holy shit, that man’s a wet dream come true and for once, being in the spotlight doesn't seem so bad anymore.

Eddie thinks he might be in love.

The photographer is yelling instructions but Eddie can hardly hear what he's saying. He’s too distracted by the way the girl drapes herself lasciviously over the armrest on his left, making him feel hot all over with her closeness. And when the guy drops down to his knees in front of him, both hands on Eddie's thighs, looking up at him like he's a fucking God - Eddie forgets how to breathe.

He moves on autopilot, mindlessly following orders. Not once taking his eyes off the beautiful fucking good boy at is feet, thinking dirty rotten thoughts about all the things he'd do to him if this scenario was real and not just for reader-baiting purposes.

It all ends too soon. He could've done this for hours.

Eddie is in the dressing room when someone knocks at the door. And because he assumes it's one of his mates, he just calls for them to 'Come in!', unbothered by his state of undress, naked except for his underwear – nothing to hide once you've shared a tour bus so many times – standing with his back to the door, rummaging around in his suitcase for a fresh set of clothes.

"Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to as-ohmygod! I am so sorry! I didn't know you where-"

Eddie turns around so quickly it makes him dizzy, surprised to find not Gareth, or Frank, or Jeff but another a familiar set of eyes staring back at him.

It’s hot guy from earlier.

“You’re not a fan, huh?” Eddie asks with a cocky grin on his face, just a bit too proud of himself for how quickly he regained his composure. “Because if you were, you wouldn’t be so shocked to see me half-naked.” Eddie winks and pretty boy's face turns a deep cherry-red.

“No, I, uh, I mean, yes. I mean-,“ the guy struggles for words and it's so precious, Eddie wants to bite him.

“I wanted to ask you for an autograph.”

Oh please. Baby, you can have so much more.

“Tell you what, sweetheart. I’ll sign my name if you give me your number. How’s that sound?”

When Eddie reunites with his friends 30 minutes later, Gareth is immediately onto him.

“Please tell me you didn’t just fuck the model.”

“His name is Steve and you know what they say - what happens behind the scenes, stays there.”

“Literally no one says that. And you’re a slut.” Gareth laughs and Frank and Jeff agree.

They're not wrong, Eddie’s definitely a slut for Steve. And he can’t wait to meet him at the hotel room later to finish what they started.

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Realm's Delight

Summary: You were the twin of the dark haired child Cersei had with Robert. While fever took your twin, you survived. You are known throughout the seven kingdom as the realm's delight. The years has passed and your younger brother Joffrey wants something you have. Sandor Clegane x Baratheon! Reader

A/n: Let me know if you enjoy this. Likes and comments are appreciated. Enjoy -L

Warning: NSFW, being the it girl, Joffrey being Joffrey, Robert is nice to us, manipulation at its finest, daddy's girl, princess wants princess gets, territorial!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It was a miracle.” Robert Baratheon, your father told you. You had survived the horrid fever that took your twin brother away. It was a secret that was kept among the Lannisters and only Robert. While Cersei was in mourning of the loss of her son, Robert’s was cut short. Cersei always resented him for that and that he gave you his undivided attention. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knew how Robert adored you. Some had even said that he loves you more than his own wife, Cersei and as you grew, he practically gave you whatever your heart desired. Your father wasn’t the only one to give you gifts. Fur straight from House Stark, jewels and the finest dresses from House Martell. Seafood freshly caught by House Greyjoy. The list of gifts went on and on. You were named the realm’s delight among the people. 

When Robert learned about the nickname that you have been given he feared that you will have the same fate as Lyanna Stark. Robert decided to do what was best, keep you protected at all times. Robert declared for Sandor Clegane to become your personal guard. Cersei had cried out to Robert about it. He is a monstrosity and hideous beast, she ranted. You heard of the Clegane’s brothers. Lord Baelish always been somewhat kind enough to keep you up to date about the accomplishments Ser Gregor had done along with Sandor’s. 

“A flower like you shouldn’t be guarded by such an animal.” Lord Baelish exclaimed as his wandering eyes looked up and down that you. You grabbed a hold of his hands. Lord Baelish blushed from the sudden contact. 

“I will grow to be the most beautiful flower because of that animal.” You whispered to Lord Baelish who honestly wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. 

You were so close to him, his mind was in the gutters. Rolling your eyes when you turn away to leave Lord Baelish, you wipe your hands on your dress while walking away from him. Men, they will always think with their cock. Cersei had told you after she had too many cups of wine. Your uncle, Jamie had laughed at her and tried to take her back to her chambers before she said anything else. That’s how you used Lord Baelish to tell you about the gossip going around. A praise, batting your eyelashes at him or giving him a smile was all needed for him to tell you what you wanted to know. 

When Sandor was presented to you for the first time, you were surprised. He was the second tallest man you ever seen, his brother was the first. He had lowered his head as he entered the chambers so he wouldn’t hit the door frame. Robert had taken your hand and pulled you towards Sandor. You noticed Sandor had the most beautiful brown eyes you've ever seen. Brown, like the earth and as the light hit his eyes, they looked like honey. You got a closer look when he knelt in front of you and vowed to keep you safe. You knew about the story of his burn scars. It took you an afternoon with Lord Baelish, drinking tea to learn about it. You had taken a liking to Sandor when he became your guard. He was too silent for your liking but that meant you had to break his walls down. 

Sandor stood and waited with you outside of your mother’s chambers. She was going to give birth to her second child. Sandor had mumbled to you to keep still since you kept walking back and forth, worried every time you heard your mother’s screams. You were about to say something when the screams stopped. Joffrey was born, and he was healthy. King Robert had his heir to the iron throne. Cersei had two other children after that and your relationship with her became unsteady. Sandor would cast a look at you whenever someone mentioned to you about Joffrey’s and your siblings' golden locks as they grew. You gave them a smile and answered. “They have been blessed with the Lannister’s golden hair.”

He knew you weren’t an idiot, he ignored when people said you were and sometimes when in a bad mood he slayed them whenever they expressed their opinions about it to him loudly. All beauty but nothing in your head. He wanted to tell them how wrong they were. He had spent hours with you in the dusty library of the castle. Seen you excelled in your studies. The winning smile you gave them disappears the moment they leave your sight. 

“Something to say, my beloved Sandor?” The tips of Sandor’s ears grew hot by your affectionate words. You had a habit of calling him all sorts of names after both of you grew closer. You didn't want to admit it to Sandor but you like seeing him squirm after calling him those sweet names. 

“No, princess.” He croaked out when you gave a cheeky smile. He immediately looked down at the ground. 

“Do you think father will ever notice?” You ask Sandor and he looks back at you. You were being serious. 

Sandor shook his head, no. “Maybe if he stops drinking and catches a break from his whores, I reckon he might see it. Unfortunately I can’t say anything. As much as father loves me more, I fear I will be punished if I say it.” 

Sandor was right you weren’t the dumb princess everyone seems to think. As the time passed, Joffrey and the rest of your siblings grew; it's been nearly 16 years. You had finally managed to get out of a marriage proposal that your father mentioned to you. Sandor was waiting outside as he heard your voice behind your father’s chambers door. He couldn’t help but grin when he heard the hearty laughter from the King. 

“Thank you, father. I knew you would be able to understand. That’s why you are the most wonderful King to ever live.” Sandor heard you say before walking out. 

Sandor watched as you shut the door behind you and pointed at the staircase nearby. Sandor looked around his surroundings, making sure no one was in sight. He walked a few steps down and turned to see you walking towards him. He lets out a huff when you jump on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Seven hells.” Sandor cursed when kissed his cheek, attacking him with kisses. Sandor moved to capture your lips with his. 

“I take it. It went well.” Sandor said, pulling you close to him. You nodded with a grin. 

“Father can be very kind when he’s drunk out of his mind.” You told him as he put you down on the steps. Both of you froze at the sound of Joffrey’s voice, he was coming up the steps. Sandor immediately took a few steps away from you. 

“Oh look, it’s my dear sister.” 

“Hello, my dear brother.” You greeted Joffrey in the same sarcastic tone. The blonde stood a few steps down from you with Ser Meryn Trant behind him. 

“Dog.” Joffrey said.  “My-.” 

“You mean Sandor.” You cut Sandor off. Your harsh tone wiped the smirk off Joffrey's face. You crossed your arms over your chest. This was an ongoing thing. Joffrey would call Sandor a dog to get a rise out of you. 

“His name is Sandor. Have you forgotten?” Joffrey can’t help but smile wickedly at you. It irritated you, Joffrey grew to be more ill and filled with a horrible attitude. He was a spoiled child, that’s all you had to say about your brother. His words and remarks were vile and you wouldn’t stand for it especially when it came to Sandor or to your servants. 

“He’s a dog, my dear sister. There’s no changing that. He is The Hound.” 

“You’re a dog as well. You even act like one and yet people still call you prince.” You answered back. 

“You little-.” Meryn Trant stopped mid sentence when he saw Sandor walking down the steps to get next to you. 

“Finish what you were saying. I fucking dare you.” Sandor threatens Meryn Trant and gives him a cold stare down. Sandor’s reputation grew as the years passed. Killer, monster, perhaps even worse than his brother, the names and the fear of fighting against him grew. They all knew no one is safe when he’s protecting you. 

“You are so kind to the people below us.” Joffrey said, making your eyes roll. You wished for the day when Joffrey realized that he is a bastard. It was called a rumor but you knew the truth. Cersei has always been a bit sloppy when she was drunk. You had seen your mother and your uncle, Jamie getting cozy. 

“I will be so heartbroken when you finally leave King’s Landing and join those filthy people from Drone.” You smile at your brother. Plans have been changed. 

“I’m surprised that you know about my marriage proposal with Drone.” You said knowing him and your mother had conspired this marriage proposal. 

“Let me be the one to deliver this good news to you, dear brother.” Joffrey frowned as you approached him closer. 

“There is no need to be heartbroken, for I am staying. There is no proposal.” Joffrey's blonde brows rose up and his shocked expression turned into an angry one. 

“It must be hard not being father’s favorite.”  You whispered. 

This dispute, the rivalry between you and brother began when he was able to see how Robert favored you more. He reached out for Robert but Robert was busy being King or being drunk. Joffrey was always envious of you, you had your father wrapped around your finger along with the entire realm while you got cheered and praised. He got concerned looks from the people of King's Landing. 

“Shall we go, Sandor? Agatha said she was preparing chicken for prandium.” You looked over at Sandor who nodded at you. 

“Yes, princess.” Passing by Joffrey, you ignored the look from Mery Trant. Sandor bowed his head to Joffrey and followed you. You can hear Sandor’s heavy footsteps behind you as you continue to hold your front. You wouldn’t let Joffrey know that his little plan to get rid of you didn’t work. Thanks to Lord Baelish and Lord Varys who gave you a heads up about it again, this wasn’t the first time. Joffrey wanted to get rid of you again and now he had even gotten your mother to play along. 

Night came and you welcomed the warmth Sandor provided you. Even though the weather of King’s Landing was already warm you still preferred the heat from Sandor’s body. 

“I heard something.” Sandor spoke after a moment of silence. You played with the soft hair on his chest while you laid your head on his arm, his arms tightening around you. 

“Speak, Sandor.” You softly said, growing anxious every passing second. 

“The servants overheard Joffrey asking Cersei about taking me as his own guard.” You raised your head off his arm and looked down at him. 

“What?” 

“He wants me as his guard.” Sandor answered you. You shook your head. 

“That little cunt.” You whispered under your breath and you realized Sandor wasn’t even looking at you. He kept staring up at the ceiling of your chambers. His eyes had become dull and his face was emotionless. Pushing the sheets off your body, you moved to sit in his lap. Paying no attention to the soreness between your legs, you felt him hold on to your legs as you cupped his face with both hands. 

“He won’t take you away from me.” Sandor let out a strain chuckle.

He knew what he had with you won’t last. He had made a promise to himself when he first met you. He wouldn't fall in love with you but he broke it. He was utterly in love with you after being your guard for many years. He had convinced himself in the beginning of your relationship that you guys can be together but reality was hitting him straight in the face, you were a princess and he was just a second born son. You would be married to someone else, someone better. You would leave him. 

“I swear it.”  

“Might be for the best if I do switch. It will be for the best.” Sandor said, making you frown. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to watch you marry some lord or a king and give him kids.” Sandor traced the skin of your legs as he spoke. 

“Your father won’t decline the next marriage proposal. He did it for the last two but not the third one. He won’t, I know it. The realm wants to see you married and have children. If I keep guarding you and you get married, I’ll kill your husband.” Sandor said sincerely. You dropped your hands from his face and brought it down to his chest. 

“Do you love me?” You asked. 

Sandor’s jaw clenched and his eyes grew hard. “Yes or no?” 

“You know I do. I have killed for you.” Sandor responded with no remorse. He had spilled blood for you and had lost count on how many people he killed to protect you and your honor.  

“If you love me then never say those words again. Promise me?! Promise me that you won’t say that it’s best.”

Sandor said your name softly but you yelled at him. “Swear it to me! Please.” 

Sandor nodded, raising his hand up to cup your cheek when he saw you on the verge of tears. He couldn’t bear seeing you cry. You grabbed on to his wrist, kissing his palm. 

“I promise. I swear it.” He told you. You leaned down to kiss him. Enjoying the tender moment with him, there were a few times when Sandor showed his soft side with you. It was mostly in bed, both of you would be wrapped around each other and sometimes the aftermath of many orgasms. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He told you and you began to kiss him harder moving your hips, your cunt humping against his cock. Whining loudly when you felt him pull you to his chest and wrap an arm around you. His free hand touches your bare ass. Sandor takes a deep breath as he feels how warm and wet you are. 

“I won't let Joffrey take you away from me. I have a plan.” 

Sandor’s hand freezes on your ass and looks down at you. 

“A plan?” You nodded as you pressed a kiss on his chest. 

“Yes. You’re mine, Sandor. No one is going to take you away from me.” Your words were like a shot of adrenaline to him. He gripped your ass harder, he wanted to believe you.

He didn't want to ruin this moment with a fight. He wanted to remember this night with you incase this would be the last night he gets to spent with you. Naked and curled up together. He wanted to enjoy it, so he moved to his side, taking you with him. Facing each other now, Sandor drapes your leg over his waist, your right arm under his head while his arm goes under you. In a thirst position, he can hold you close to him. You bump his nose softly and kiss his scared cheek.  He gripped your waist pulling you closer to him.

You shut your eyes and moan when his thick fingers touch your slit. Gather the reminiscence of your cum and his dripping from your hole and rub it on along the swollen lips of your cunt. The tip of his fingers gliding over your clit making you cry out, your cunt was sensitive from earlier. Your toes curled up and legs tensed up when you felt his finger inside of you. 

“Fuck.” He groans as he holds you close to him. Moaning his name as you felt him finger you for a moment. He shifted and moved your legs higher so he had room. 

“Sandor.” You cry out his name as he slips inside of you. You held on to his arms as he gripped your waist while pumping into you. 

His face hidden between your neck and shoulder, you can feel his hand on your back, nails digging into your skin. You held on for dear life as you heard him growl against your skin. 

“I’ll kill him, Y/n.” He moans to you as he fucks you, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt. His thrust was growing faster and harsher. The thought of you married with some prince made him angry. Even if people didn't know, you were his and he would keep it that way.

“You hear me?” He said with a moan. He moves his face towards you. You nod at him letting out a pitched whine when he hits that sweet spot. 

“You belong with me. You’re mine.” You kissed him trying to mask your moans but nothing in the world would mask the squelching sound of your pussy being fucked. 

Sandor held on to you as he moved his hips back and forward. He feels his balls tighten when he feels you cum on him, you’re trembling, skin slick with sweat. Sandor is grunting as he manhandles you. Your hands are on him, touching him, you can feel the muscles and his scars from his battles on his back and his arms. 

Sandor cries your name and you shut your eyes as he presses his hips against you, slamming his cock deep inside of you. His hand on your hips goes down your ass, cups your cheek. He squeezes it as he cums deep inside of you. You whimper feeling stuff, your pussy keeps clenching and unclenching around him. He shifts his hips and you moan at the feeling of your clit being ticked by his pubic hair.

You feel his lips on your cheek, pressing soft kisses as he huffs out of breath. 

“Sandor.” You whispered as you nuzzled against his face. You didn’t mind the feeling of the scars against your face, you kept close to him enjoying the aftermath of your orgasm. 

You didn’t want this to end, you wouldn’t allow it. Sandor was yours first, Sandor belongs to you just as much you belong to him. You weren’t going to give him up without a fight. 

Morning came and you were woken by your ladies in waiting. The flock of ladies knocked and waited for you outside to respond. You rose up, finding yourself alone. You wrapped yourself in a blanket and invited them inside. One by one they walked inside, picking up the sheets from the floor, one went to your closet to get your clothes for the day and one opened the doors to the balcony. 

“Here, my princess.” The eldest came by you after you covered yourself with your robe. You thanked her for the tea and waited patiently while one warmed your bath water.

One of the ladies was brushing your hair after your bath. They stopped when there was a knock on the door, opening the door. Sandor came walking in, he had a concerning look on his face. 

“Good morrow, princess. The king demands your presence in his chambers at once.” 

You walked to your father’s chambers with Sandor behind you. He sensed how nervous you were. Before going around the hall, you felt Sandor grab your arm. He gently pulled you back. You were pushed softly against the wall. Sandor stood in front of you, towers over you as he looked down at you. 

“Worried?” You whispered to him. You feel one of his hands cup your face. 

Sandor doesn’t reply, he simply presses his lips against yours. “Go on.” He tells you and steps away from you. 

Sandor has a habit of never expressing his feelings out loud. Sandor followed you quietly. He wasn’t worried at all, he was scared and he hasn’t felt this way since he was a child when Gregor disfigured him. 

You walked down the hall and came to a halt when you saw Ser Meryn Trant standing outside of your father’s chamber. It meant that Joffrey was inside. You felt bile rise up. Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath to calm your nervousness. 

Meryn Trant saw you and opened your father’s chamber door for you. You looked over your shoulder and gave Sandor a look of nervousness. You took one last look of his brown eyes. It calms you for a moment and you’re able to walk inside your father’s chamber. You noticed Joffrey sitting down along with your mother while your father sat behind his desk. The door shut behind you as you walked towards your father. 

“Mother. Brother.” You greeted them and walked next to your father. You leaned down to kiss one of his pudgy cheeks. Robert gave you a smile and greeted you. You can smell the wine coming off your father.

“Sit, we have been waiting. Joffrey and your mother wish to discuss something with us.” 

You sat on the empty seat next to your mother. “Joffrey has told me that he would like Sandor as his personal guard.” Your mother said. 

So this was about Sandor. “What's wrong with Ser Meryn Trant?” You asked Joffrey. 

Joffrey wasn't expecting for you to say something. He thought you would obey instantly. You stare at Joffrey, you weren't going to let Sandor slip away from you. You were going to fight for him. 

Joffrey looked over at his father who was also staring at him. “Well, since Y/n is going off in Dorne. I want Sandor.” 

“I'm not going to Dorne. I told you.” Joffrey clenched his jaw. 

“You had refused your last marriage proposal. Father, are you going to accept this?” Joffrey asked Robert. 

“She isn't going to Dorne.” Robert said, making Cersei sit up. “Why not?” She asked him. 

“You dare to question me, woman.” Robert eyed Cersei. 

“Our daughter has not been wed, people will talk.” 

“You think I care what people say about her. She is my daughter. My word is law and final. She won't be shipped to Dorne.” 

You dislike how sometimes your father would speak to your mother. Robert was a down right misogynist but when it came to you he was different. You knew it had to do with Lyanna Stark, everyone told you how there was a resemblance between you and her. It was confirmed when Ned Stark and his family came to King's Landing to celebrate your name day. Ned couldn't take his eyes off of you and had even stuttered his sister's name after drinking with your father. 

You felt bad for Ned after so many years the death of his sister still had a hold over him just like Robert. He had begged forgiveness to you the next day. “Nonsense. No need to forgive, Lord Stark.” 

“He’s a good man.” Sandor told you after Ned left. You had finished a walk with Ned in the garden after you told him if it would be alright to share some stories about Lyanna. He gave you a smile and accepted. You learned a lot about her and intend to use this information. 

“He is.” You replied to him. 

“It will get him killed one of these days.” Sandor’s words made you sad. You didn't want to see the Lord of Winterfell dead. Unlike Joffrey and your mother, you enjoy their presence and have grown fond of his wife, Catelyn. 

“Our daughter should have been married and had babies by now. We can use her as an advantage, a leverage.” Cersei stood up from her seat and walked to the corner of the room where the cart of wines and cups were at. 

“I believe it has to be that atrocious dog always behind her. His face scares off any suitors. She will be married soon and doesn’t need him anymore.” 

“He protects me, mother.” You said folding your hands on your lap. Cersei looked over her shoulder at you. You looked over at your father because at the end of the day, he has the last day. 

“Father, remember the riot. Those men would have killed me. Sandor was there and killed them all. He killed those men.” Robert nodded remembering all too well about that horrible riot that broke out.  

You stood up from your seat and walked towards the desk. You kneel down near your father ignoring the tsk sound from Joffrey. You decided if Joffrey and your mother wanted to play dirty. So will you. 

“I do not wish the same fate as the lovely Lyanna Stark. May she be at peace.” Your father’s eyes shifted at the mention of Lyanna.

“I know. I have refused two marriage proposals now but I must tell you the truth, Sandor didn’t trust them. He had seen him, heard them speak ill behind my back.” You knew the words you were about to say will be a low blow to your mother and it will create a shift between you two but you had to do it. You didn’t want Joffrey to have Sandor. Sandor Clegane is yours. 

“You might think this is ridiculous, father.” You grabbed your father’s hand. 

“I want to be loved. The type of love you and Lyanna shared. Ned told me stories about your love with her and it warmed my heart. I crave for that love you both shared.” You flinched at the sound of Cersei throwing her cup of wine to the ground and walked out of the room. No one said anything for a moment. You just watched as the red wine from Drone stained the carpeted rug. This was your chance, your moment to seal it. Joffrey won’t take Sandor away from you. 

Sandor stood straight up when he saw the queen running out of the room. The door was opened and he looked ahead. He saw you kneeling by your father, looking up at him. 

“Don't take Sandor away from me. Don't let me have the same fate as the woman you loved.” 

Robert smiled down at you and cupped your face. “No need to worry. Clegane will stay by your side.” 

Robert looks towards Joffrey. “Stay with Ser Mery Trant. If you wish for a more depraved guard. Perhaps we can ask The Mountain to fill in.” Joffrey quickly shook his head. He sent a glare at you before standing up and walking out of the room. Sandor moved away from the door when he saw Joffrey with a pout on his face. Ser Mery Trant followed the prince. 

Sandor looked back at the doorway. Robert had helped you get up on your feet and gave you a hug. Sandor gave you a small smile when he saw you staring back at him with your own smile as you hugged your father. It worked. 

Sandor knew he would have to beg forgiveness for not believing in you. Your plan worked. Shame on him for ever doubting you, Princess Y/n Baratheon, the realm's delight. 

Chapter 2 ->

[yumeka-sxf]

Thoughts on Spy x Family: Family Portrait

I finally got around to reading the SxF light novel, Family Portrait...and I mean "finally" because it's literally been sitting in my shelf since it was first released in English back in December of last year! I was distracted by Code White and the SxF video game which came out around the same time, but even long after that, I was having trouble getting motivated to read it. For some reason, experiencing SxF in novel format instead of in anime/manga just didn't appeal to me, plus the fact that it's not written by Endo himself (these weird preferences of mine are also why I'm not into reading fanfics either). Don't get me wrong, in general I love reading stories in prose form too, but for a series like SxF that already has such an established visual identity, it doesn't feel as "authentic" to me if that makes any sense. But I did want to read it eventually, since it is an official part of SxF media and Endo did the illustrations and does acknowledge the book (he wrote a nice afterword at the end). So I finally sat down and read it in sections over the course of this week! I'll share my brief thoughts on each of the contained stories:

Novel Mission 1

Since this was the first story in the book, it took me a while to get used to experiencing the world of SxF in novel form. There were some things I felt would have been better conveyed in anime/manga, for example, one of the very first gags about Yor misinterpreting Anya's nature class as some sort of hardcore outdoor survival trip. As I was reading that part I was like "I get the joke, but it would have been funnier if I actually saw these images and the characters' expressions with Endo's comedic illustrations." It was also a bit jarring to hear the characters thoughts and feelings from third-person narration, but I got used to it. As for the story itself, it was Damianya focused, something I'm not particularly into, but I don't mind it either. I liked the rare, soft Damian moments, and the thing with the squirrel eating Anya's peanut trail was funny. I also liked the scene at the beginning where Loid and Yor feed Bond together while Anya watches.

Novel Mission 2

Oddly, this was my favorite of the stories! Of all the characters, I think the author nailed Yuri's unhinged thoughts the best - as I was reading, I couldn't help but hear every cringe thought in his voice, which is a good sign of how well the author gets the character! I actually chuckled at a few parts too, both from his insane Yor-obsessed and anti-Loid musings, as well as from his banter with Anya. The police interrogation scene was great and would be even better if it ever gets animated! I also found it interesting that this story has the first instance where we find out what Yuri thinks about Bond (that he's fat and useless - rude!) Also his first time hearing about Franky apparently...makes we wonder if Endo will make him feel the same way if these things ever come up in the manga.

Novel Mission 3

I liked this story a lot too! I think it worked the best in novel format out of all of them, probably because it was more focused on drama and emotions than comedy. It's ironic that the two official SxF stories that feature the deeper side of Franky's character - this one and the omake chapter from volume 13 - are both not even part of the main canon! Alessa would have definitely accepted Franky's job as an informant, but he felt that someone like her should only be surrounded by "beautiful things." The poor man really needs to see that inner beauty matters too, and he has that! I also think he should have swallowed his pride and told Loid the real reason why he wanted the disguise...not that it would have changed the outcome. Poor Franky.

Novel Mission 4

This was a cute Forger-focused story, but like the first one, I felt it had parts that would have been more effective in anime/manga form, for example, "hair monster" Yor and whatever hideous painting Felix ended up making! But despite that, it was still funny and cute. Though I do think the author went a tad overboard with Yor's flustered antics...they just kept going and going, lol. Also, like the movie, we have another scenario of Loid getting flung into the air by Yor but landing gracefully on his feet (though this instance was much tamer since she wasn't drunk and only pushed him instead of hit him). Again, maybe I would have appreciated the humor in this story better if I saw it in anime/manga with Endo's hilarious designs and expressions, but for what it was, it was enjoyable enough.

Short Novel

This extra short story would be perfect as a reintroduction story for a future anime season...maybe one day!

-----

Overall, the Family Portrait novel is a nice addition to the Spy x Family universe. Even though I feel the humor in the series is most effective in illustrated form, it's still nice to have more stories in the canon, especially ones that show new sides to the characters, like the Franky and Yuri stories. Like the movie, it's debatable if this novel should be considered true canon or not, but personally, I don't find anything in it that contradicts canon, at least not yet. So yeah, definitely check out the novel if you haven't already! 😁

[passionateseadruid]

when he walks in…

A few things… there is some Lucifer slander but that should be expected as he is the devil from da bible.

Also a few references to Paradise Lost. How can you write bible fanfics (or anything about Luci) without referencing the OG bible fanfic.

Sera is also a big part of this but I want to think that she was kind before the exterminations.

Also my interpretation of eve.

And Adam is so Ooc but there is still bits and pieces. I definitely headcanon that he wasn’t always a misogynistic prick but was spoiled because he never ate the apple.

And finally (Y/n) is used to refer to reader but it’s completely gender neutral.

Your purpose was to keep Lucifer busy so that he wouldn’t go out seeking Lilith.

The first memory you had was blurry and the conversation you overheard was fuzzy but you’re sure it was about you.

“I don’t want an angel I want the human woman.” A man shouted.

“You don’t want an angel, fine!” A woman replied as if trying to calm a toddler throwing a tantrum. A slight sting came from your back, feathers flew around you.

“Oh really? How’re they going to get around without wigs, Sera?” There was a triumphant tone in the man’s voice. “Face it, they can’t live here if they’re human but they can’t be down there because it’s supposed to be just a single man and a single woman, and if they have wings they’re an angel so I don’t want THEM!!”

“Fine!! You know what!! They’ll bleed red like the humans do but I’ll give them the wings of an insect. They’ll be like nothing or no one else. Will that make you happy. A being not quite human but most definitely not an angel.” You felt your skin contort and mutate as Sera molded and shifted your flesh.

“You want me to be with some hideous monster? No. Sera, no! I love Lilith. She’s just the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Lucifer stop! She is Adam’s wife. You can have my new creation.” Sera pushed you forward and the first thing that properly came into your vision was the short man with blond hair and rosy cheeks.

“Get that freak away from me!” He shouted and ran off.

“Did I come out wrong?” Sera’s heart almost broke as you said those words.

“No Darling. You’re perfect. Just give him time.”

He never came back after that. News that he had taken Lilith away swept the city behind the pearly gates.

“Did I do something wrong Sera?”

“No darling. He never gave you a chance. Come on now. We should get back to work.”

“is that all I’m good for? Work work work! I have to run around maintaining balance for people who don’t even care about me, and all because Lucifer didn’t choose me. Where’s my choice?”

“What do you want to do then?” She groaned.

“I heard that a new bride was made for Adam. He named her Eve. I also heard that Raphael was going to visit them, can I go with? Please?” Sera smiled at you.

Sera nodded. “If you want to oversee the garden you may.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank You!!”

“Go get ready, it’s quite muddy down there so you should probably change out of your white clothes!”

It was so green down there. “Hi! I’m (Y/n). Sera made me.”

“Who’s Sera?” A beautiful girl with dark brown hair and tan skin asked. She had big brown eyes and was of shorter stature.

“Doesn’t matter right now. Who are you?” You said with curiosity. A taller man wrapped his arms around the woman.

“Back off! I already had one angel steal my first wife. I’m not letting Eve slip away so easily.”

“Yes that’s actually what we came to talk about.” Raphael had said.

////////////////////////////////////////

After explaining what had happened with Lucifer to the humans Raphael had left. Eve wandered off halfway through the story leaving you with Adam.

“So…” he started, leaning back on his hands.

“I have so many things I want to ask you! First off, what was Lilith like?” You sat next to him, your knees against your chest.

“Prideful and lazy. I told her over and over again that we needed to grow food for keep the lions from killing the lambs but all she wanted to do was lounge on the beach.”

“Next question. What’s life like down here?”

“It’s… great actually. Other than the slight of having Lilith taken. Eve’s just fantastic though, she listens to everything I ask of her. I always got the feeling that Lilith hated being made for me and she wanted to be her own person. So her leaving is whatever. I wouldn’t want to be told that my only purpose was to be made for someone else’s sake.”

“I was made for someone else and I was fine with it.”

“I feel like Eve’s like that. She was made from my rib ya know. I let her do whatever she wants when she feels like it so she doesn’t get suffocated and leave me too. I love her so fucking much. Trust me, when she gets back I’ll ask her to tell you about all her favorite fruits. You’ll love her as much as I do.”

“What is freedom like? What is it like to live for yourself? You and Eve get to don’t you?”

“Yeah. We still have our duties in the garden but she’s always so excited to help. Do you not have freedom?”

“Not particularly. Sera keeps me pretty busy. I live her her rules, her will alone.”

“Was she the one who you were made for?”

You look away bashfully. “No, I was made for Lucifer so he could stop obsessing over Lilith.”

“Well, thanks for failing. I wouldn’t have Eve if he gave up on Lilith.”

“That actually makes me feel a little better.”

“Hey are you always so obedient to that Sera chick?”

“I have to be. She created me and I must honor her rules and orders above all else.”

“You seem tense. How many rules do you have?”

“Too many to count.”

“We only have one rule here.”

“Don’t eat the apple from the forbidden tree.” You and him say in unison.

“I know.” You look away. “Adam. Promise me one thing.” You look back at him with a desperate look in your eyes. “No matter what you do you have to follow that one rule okay? No matter if you’re starving, no matter if Eve is being threatened. You can never break that rule. Not even if Eve does. Tell her too, okay. Not if she’s starving. Not if you’re being threatened. I already lost my purpose in life because the man I was made for broke the rules and got kicked out. Promise me that you will never break this one simple rule.”

“Okay! Geez, you’re kinda dramatic. I’ll go tell Eve.” He stood up and walked away.

“You’re purpose in life huh? Don’t be so dramatic!” A voice from behind you called out.

“You can’t be here! HE forbid it.”

“HE can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

“HE still loves you. Just apologize for what you did and we can go home.”

“I’m never going back. And I’m never going to be with you! So just take your disgusting SELF AND GO AWAY!!”

“Am I not good enough?”

“NO!!”

“Adam!?” You called out to him surprised at his sudden outburst.

“Eve!” Lucifer shouted worriedly as you both rushed to where the cry came from.

“WHAT DID YOU DO!! (Y/N)!! HELP!! We can fix this… WE CAN FIX THIS RIGHT??!!”

“What happened?” You asked trying to calm Adam down.

“I’m sorry. They said I didn’t know what I was doing. They said I was ignorant. I was. I was so stupid.”

“…What did you do Lucifer?”

“I showed her the truth. The truth that all of you were trying to hide.” He smirked triumphantly. However his smile faded as lightning struck behind him. The winds picked up. The sky darkened with rain clouds rolling in.

“Eve just apologize. Just say you made a mistake. HE is very forgiving. Please.”

“But it’s their fault! They tricked me! I’m not the one to blame! It was them! It was him!” She tried to reason.

“No no no! Just apologize! Eve just apologize! You won’t be in trouble. Just own up to your mistakes and ask for forgiveness!” You tried to persuade.

“Eve just do it!” Adam demanded.

“You eat it. We can do this together.” She pleaded.

“I… I can’t.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s just a stupid apple. Now she can be more informed about her own life.” Lucifer shouted.

“it was their one rule! Why couldn’t you just mind your own FUCKING business!” You shouted at him. “I wasn’t good enough so you had to have Lilith! I thought maybe, just maybe, now that he’s happy I could move on! I was ecstatic when I saw them! I thought overseeing them would bring me a sense of purpose! But no! You had to mess that up for me too!”

“Do you honestly think that I give a shit about you?! That for one moment I thought about YOU!?” Lucifer laughed in your face. “That’s utterly pathetic!! YOU’RE pathetic!!”

“You shut up! They’re great! They’re kind and they actually want to protect us!!” Adam yelled as he held Eve.

No matter what kind word he said, Lucifer’s words stung like nothing else. Tears flowed from your eyes.

“You know what? Fuck you Lucifer!” You shouted and ran away.

////////////////////////////////////////

You hadn’t thought about that for nearly 5 decades. Then a certain brunette walked up behind Sera. He was rounder and dressed in white and gold robes. “Little darling. I’d like you to meet Adam, the first man.”

“We’ve met. Hi!” You waved.

“Hey teeny.” He smiled.

“Hey! I’m not short! You grew since the last time I saw you! I wasn’t this small when I-” You cut yourself off.

“When we first met, I know.” He smiled softly. But his smile drop as he spoke next. “She’s gone. He succeeded in taking her away from me. I thought you’d like to know.”

“Adam, I’m sorry. I should’ve-”

“Hey. I’m here because of you. You saved me. You tried to save her.” He cut you off and wrapped you in a hug. “Sorry. I just need this.”

“Take as long as you need.” You hugged him back.

////////////////////////////////////////

“Ugh! Those dumb fucking whores!” Adam shouted.

“What’s wrong now?” You groaned. Adam had gotten an attitude after he made it into Heaven.

“It’s that short fucking clown and the whore he left you for! Those skanks had a baby! She was such a lazy prude when she was with me but apparently she couldn’t keep her fucking legs closed and put out for that ugly little shit!”

“Hypocrite. You‘ve been having sex with pretty much anything that moves.”

“Okay but the difference is that I actually populated the earth like I was suppose to. She was created to be the mother of all humans yet she goes off and makes hell-spawn instead.”

“Are you feeling insecure?” You teased.

“No! Fuck you, bitch!” You giggled as he pouted.

“Hey! I just had an idea how we can get back at them.”

“How?”

“We get married.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He blushed. “We can’t do that!”

“Why not? If you’re not into me or you don’t want to give up sleeping around then you can just say so. But it would say to the brat downstairs that he isn’t the only one who can swoop in and steal away someone else’s lady. And it would prove to our Ex that we aren’t still thinking about each other.”

“But we are.”

“They don’t have to know that.”

“If we do this you’re taking my awesome dick every night.”

“Deal, you big horny crybaby.” You kissed the tip of his nose.

The news of the spur wedding rocked the pearly gates and all seven rings of Hell. All except the palace of the pride ring. They all couldn’t care less.

////////////////////////////////////////

It’s been a few months since you two got married. You sat brushing your husbands wings.

“Hey babe?” He turned to you slightly.

“Yes?”

“…do you think that I’m a good person?”

“Why do you ask?”

“…I feel like everyone always pities me because of my exes. They always say how I’m so good for listening. Does that make me a good person?”

“Sometimes you can be a bit misogynistic.”

“You get paid more than me! Why do I always have to pay for supper!?”

“Because you barely ever let me choose where we eat.” You tease.

“Spicy food makes me sick! I don’t want to be stuck on the toilet for three hours just because of your freakishly high tolerance.” He pouts.

“It’s also gentlemanly to pay. Besides you insist on getting burritos from that one place twice a month. …why do you ask anyway?”

“Sera’s got this dumb idea. It’s got me thinking about what makes a good person.”

“I wouldn’t know, I was created to follow rules. If I didn’t, I’d fall like Lucifer.”

“We had one rule. Then everything changed when Kane killed Able. I don’t even know if I’m a good person.”

“I think killing is back, harming children is also bad, sexual abuse is also bad. All these things are very purposeful though. People like that don’t change, but you changed. You used to sleep around and now you’re committed to me and you seem much happier.

“Can sinners change?”

“Not all obviously, but if they wanted to maybe.”

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too baby.” When he walks in I am loved… I am loved.

[lovelyiida]

THE RACE TO WEDDING BELLS ❤︎︎

CHAPTER 10 : MOMMY'S BOY; SISTERS PAWN

"The scandal of it all!"

❥ SYNOPSIS: as the years passed, Bakugo realized he was the last among his class to tie the knot. As the days grew colder, and the nights became lonelier. Bakugo finds the desire to get married, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. At least he has his trustee secretary!

implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording and content

❥: CHAPTERS

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 3K

[ DISCLAIMER!!! YOUR BODY IS BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY IT IS!!! AND YOU ARE WORTH MORE THAN A TRILLION GAZILLION KABILLION BUCKS!!!]

“That dress makes you look fat.”

“I agree, you look a tad… robust.”

For today’s catastrophe, you had the joy of honing in on the final detail for you and Katsuki’s wedding. The dress, of course!

You’ve always watched TV shows where the excited, bubbling bride brings their loved ones to shop for “the dress.” Only to be filled with anger and distraught over the absolute gall their family was.

You thought to yourself how you would never let this happen to you. If there was a problem, you tell them to get the fuck out! It’s your wedding anyway.

But now that you fit the quota (and maybe not the dress), you’re starting to think otherwise. And who else is better to go dress shopping with, than your fiance’s mother and your beloved sister?

Swallowing your pride, you show a defeated smile and step down from the elevated space. Turning around, you head back into the dressing room and look in the mirror. Letting out an exhale, you brushed your hand through your hair and placed it back on your hip with a plop.

“Just a couple of more dresses until they break,” you chuckled, reassuring yourself from the absolute nightmare this whole day has been. Biting your lip, you began to look at yourself a bit more. Straightening out some flimsy pieces here and there, swaying side to side in the dress.

You can’t believe you’re doing this…

You’ve fantasized about moments like these in your head millions of times. You’d be the perfect wife, marrying the perfect husband, who has the perfect family.  But now that everything has come to the forefront— it just seemed so dull.

You’re thankful you get some chance of normalcy… paparazzi included.

It was only an amount of time until you’d walk down the aisle to the “man of your dreams” and sign yourself away for the rest of eternity. And not even that will be set in stone.

“You’re just an open book of failures, aren't you?”

You spoke quietly to yourself. Scrunching your mouth to the side, you held back tears. You didn’t have the money to stain a 10-thousand-dollar dress with a 10-dollar mascara.

“Failed job, failed love life, failed marriage, failed quirk…” you trailed.

When was there a time when your life gave you a break? A moment of grace? When was the last time you felt genuine happiness beyond your prowess?

A singular tear streamed down your cheek.

Chin held high, you extended your hand out and under your cheek. “10 thousand dollars,” you whimpered. You’re wearing a dress worth ten thousand dollars, and yet you amount to nothing.

It's like placing birthday makeup on a potato sack.

As the tears kept streaming down your face, your whimpers grew louder. So much for trying to beat the sad-bridal-dress-shopping troupe.

God, when will you ever get a break?

Knock knock knock

Before you could even compose yourself with the little amount of time you had, the door was opened and someone barged in. “Y’know— if you’re gonna invite us, be respectful of other people's time. We’ve been sitting outside like a deer in headlights because you decided to dress yourself in that hideous mermaid tail–”

Mitsuki moaned on and on until she raised her head, and as her eyes fixed on your broken position; she was left speechless.

“Oh… um.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry,” you mumbled with a hick in your breath. As you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, you then placed them on the sides of your neck. You stared at Mitsuki’s speechless look, unable to care for how she might scold you next.

The mother then let out a sigh before she reached into her purse. As she rummaged around, she found a package of napkins and opened them with haste. Handing them to you, you reached out with hesitance before you took them from her grasp.

“You know that dress is designer?” she deadpanned.

“Gee whiz! I don’t think I thought of that,” you spoke a cutting remark as venom oozed from each word.

“Who are you talking to?” Mitsuki scowled at your remark. You couldn't help but break out into a strained laughter at her words. “I’m talking to a woman who thinks I’ll never be good for their son!” You exclaimed with an anguished, teary smile.

Mitsuki jumped at your exclamation…

“I’m talking to someone who has only met me once, and now they have to call me their daughter-in-law, knowing they’d rather drop dead! Someone who knows that me and Katsuki should’ve never been together. Someone who is just as confused as I am, because we both know that whatever Katsuki sees in me is a lie!”

Your voice harshly trembled with each agonizing word, “is that what you wanted to hear?”

Mitsuki was unable to utter another word.

“I admit it! I’m a fucking fraud! I’m just some girl who’s trying to hold on to this false sense of happiness and drain it for whatever it’s worth because something always tells me it’ll be worth it. And it never fucking is!”

“Failure after failure, and I still don’t know what my purpose is on this earth! I’ll never be good enough for the life I’ve always dreamed of, the life where me and your son are in love and are getting married happily. Not by some phony contract!”

Mitsuki growled at your words, “what contract?”

“The…stupid-fucking marriage contract! This whole marriage is a sham!” You cried out. Mitsuki lets out a breath and begins to ponder around the dressing room, taking in the words you’ve spoken.

“Your son wanted some shot at normalcy and roped me into all of this mess. And you know what’s crazy? I said yes because I didn’t want to lose my job! My one shot of living the life I always dreamed, hanging by the thread of a shitty NDA and a seven-carat ring!”

Your words sunk deep into his mother's chest, weighing her down one by one, until she was left leaning against the wall with her hands cradling her face.

“And you know what’s even worse? I used to fucking hate his guts! But now…”

But now… what? You were silent.

The room hung heavy with silence, a palpable weight that seemed to press down on the both of you, muffling every breath and stifling any attempt at speech. The stillness was deafening, a stark contrast to the lively conversation that had filled the space moments earlier. An eerie hush blanketed the room as if the very air had stilled, holding its breath in anticipation of something yet to come.

Mitsuki’s hands drag from her face and her eyes bore into your disheveled state. Standing back up, she then neared towards you and then threw her purse down on the floor.

Unable to look into her eyes, your knees fall weak and you lower to the floor. Following suit, Mitsuki lowers herself and sits on the floor with you. “Listen, about my son…”

“Since the moment he was a young boy, I always knew he’d be destined for greatness. He was such a bright and confident spirit. Very sure in himself and his purpose in life

But ever since the war.”

You notice the drop in her tone, you nice her let out a defeated breath. She shook her head and continued to speak.

“That spark left him.”

“What do you mean?” You spoke softly.

“When I saw my son in the hospital— all his life was sucked out of him. His eyes were dead and he just looked out the window. Then the next moment he burst into tears…” Mitsukis voice wavered as her throat began to tighten, taking herself back to that dreadful day. 

“He never told me why he cried but I could put two and two together.”

Mitsuki wiped her tears with her finger, trying to gain back her composer. “Why was he crying?” you asked.

��Because he’s tired.”

Your brows were furrowed, eyes concentrating on her face. A heavy silence blanketed over the both of you, broken by the sound of a sniffle. “I knew at that moment I had lost my son forever. He’s not the same bright little boy anymore, he’s distant, reserved, and he’s completely shut out me and his father.”

“I apologize for how we’ve treated you.”

You turned to see Katsuki's mother, Mitsuki, looking out with a rueful expression. Despite her blunt words, you detected a certain softness there.

"I was the one who pushed him into heroics from a young age," she continued with a sigh. "Katsuki always had a...driven personality, even as a little kid. I figured that channeling it into becoming a pro hero would be good for him."

Mitsuki shook her head. "But I look at that son of mine now and I can't help but wonder if I steered him wrong somewhere along the way."

"With how angry and arrogant he is, maybe I should've pushed him into a different hobby," Mitsuki lamented. "Something where he could put that intensity to better use than constantly fighting and yelling."

She turned to you then, giving you an appraising look. "You must be a real saint to put up with that spitfire attitude of his. So, I understand you hate him–”

“I don’t hate him… I feel the exact opposite, actually.”

“So then what do you feel?”

“I feel like he’s worthy… worthy of love beyond his own comprehension.”

Mistuki nods in silence, “and I know that he’s been hurt in the past, and he’s willing to give this another try. And I’m happy for him because he’s just like any other person on earth with the right to experience love. Heroic title or not… I’m glad he was able to find something close to that with me.”

You showed a soft smile, satisfied that you were finally able to get that off your chest.

Mitsuki smiles back as she then rests her hand on your shoulder. You looked up to meet her gaze, falling into the familiar crimson irises.

“No matter how this marriage came to be,” she spoke, her voice thick with earnest emotion. “Whether it was by chance or by contract…” She gave your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “The way my son looks at you tells me all I need to know.”

You felt your eyes prick with tears at her words, overwhelmed by the depth of her acceptance. “You two kids have found something real,” she continues firmly. “As parents, that’s the only thing we could hope for— that our children find genuine love and devotion.” Her smile turned impish, “even if it is with that hotheaded son of mine.”

A teary giggle bubbled up from your chest. An arm swept around your shoulders, and Mitsuki hugged you close in a warm embrace. “As long as you two have each other… that’s all that matters to an old lady like me.”

You pulled away from her embrace and showed her a smile, “thank you.”

Mitsuki chuckled before shuffling on the floor. “Now, let's get you up! My legs are killing me.”

As you both rise from the floor, you look at each other in a comfortable silence.

After Mitsuki finished gushing about how beautiful the wedding dress looked on you, she gave you an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

"Alright, let me give you some privacy to try on the next one," she said with a warm smile. "I'll be right outside if you need any help with the zipper or laces."

You nodded gratefully as Mitsuki slipped out of the fitting room, leaving you to carefully remove the lace gown. Just as you had stepped into the next dress sample, a sharp knock came at the door.

"Who is it?" you called out, doing a little shimmy to pull the dress up over your hips.

"It's me," came your sister's muffled voice from the other side. She didn't sound pleased.

Furrowing your brow, you quickly zipped and smoothed the dress before cracking open the door. Your sister's frown deepened as she looked at you over.

"Sis? What's wrong?" you asked with a tinge of worry. "Did something happen?"

She exhaled sharply through her nose. "Oh, nothing... except I just got a call from mom. Apparently, she's refusing to come dress shopping because, and I quote, 'That unstable brute isn't good enough for my baby.'"

You felt your jaw drop as realization set in. "Wait... she's boycotting my wedding dress shopping because of Katsuki?" 

A beat of silence passed between you before your sister's stony expression cracked and she let out a barking laugh.

"Leave it to Mom to find the most dramatic way to voice her dislike of your fiance," she giggled, shaking her head. "The scandal of it all!"

Unable to help yourself, you soon joined in the laughter, doubling over at the sheer ridiculousness of your mother's actions. Trust her to make a fuss at every turn about your perfectly wonderful relationship.

"Well, her loss then!" you managed between gasping breaths. "We'll just have to celebrate without her negativity!"

“Speaking of that… I can't wait to see his face when you say no and embarrass him in front of thousands! It’s what the brute deserves.” She chuckled.

You chose not to respond, and she took notice of that.

“About that… this whole elaborate plan— I think we should give it a rest.” You spoke firmly. Your sister shot you a look of disgust, “excuse me?”

“All I’m saying is… I’ve gotten to know him a bit more and—”

“You’ve fallen in love with the prick?” Your sister’s voice raised. You frown at her words, too embarrassed to argue back at her. A distressed break of laughter falls from her chest, “I fucking knew it!”

“I knew you’d find a way to mess this up and ditch me! As per usual” she spat. A look of disbelief cascaded over your face, “ditch you?” you asked.

“Yeah! Y’know— you go to the perfect school, get the perfect job, the apartment, the husband.” Your sister snarled as she pointed at the wedding dress. “And you leave the people you knew the longest behind to pick up the scraps!”

“And you wonder why you had to pick up scraps? Because you decided to run away and live your life without us! Leaving me to do all the work! So yeah, something good is finally happening to me and I’m gonna take advantage of that!

It’s not my fault you were a lost cause!” You yelled in anger.

Your sister's eyes went wide at the biting remark that had slipped out in the heat of your argument. "Did you really just say that to me?" she asked in disbelief, shaking her head slowly. 

For a moment, an awkward silence hung in the air as you stubbornly avoided her gaze. But then her expression hardened and she let out a derisive chuckle, taking a step closer until she was mere inches from your face.

"You're going to regret those words, sis," she said in a low, dangerous tone. "I don't take that kind of insult lightly, especially from family."

You refused to be intimidated, squaring your shoulders as you met her glare head-on. "Well then, if you know what's good for you, don't bother coming to my wedding," you retorted.

Her eyes flashed with fury before she gave a mocking laugh. "Oh, I'll be there alright. And you'll wish I wasn't by the time I'm through with you."

Refusing to be baited further, you simply shrugged one shoulder coolly. "Suit yourself. But any scene you cause, I'm holding you responsible.”

"We'll see about that," she hissed venomously. With one last withering look, she turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving you to anxiously play with the skirt of your dress.

Beneath the veneer of the joyous celebration raged a storm of bitter envy and resentment. Lurking in the shadows was the black sheep sister— a stark contrast to you. While you basked in the warmth of acceptance by Bakugo's hero circle, your sisters' lives had been a vortex of misery and poor decisions.

Cast out by their parents years ago, she found herself adrift and desperate on the streets. A chance encounter with a nefarious villain gang seemed her only lifeline, despite the cost. Slowly but surely, she buried herself deeper into their seedy underworld— committing petty crimes, and gathering intel, all to pay off her mounting debts owed to the merciless criminals.

What should have been her salvation became a noose around her neck. The more she witnessed your charmed life and success, the more her resentment mutated into a toxic obsession. The favoritism, the accolades, the love from the famous Dynamight— it all fanned the flames of her hatred.

When she discovered her pathetic sister had secured the heart of the renowned hero, something snapped inside Akari. She could never truly find happiness knowing you had achieved the perfect life. If she couldn't have that perfection for herself, she would ensure you burned with her in misery.

Trading villain information about Dynamight and his colleagues became her twisted obsession. Your sister bided her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike - when she could sacrifice her sister on the altar of her malicious envy. Ruin both their lives with one brutal act, while settling her debts and finally living the life she deserved. 

But as you seamlessly got accepted by your fiance's friend group, seeing the genuine love and joy surrounding the both of you, it unraveled the last threads of your sister's unraveling sanity. Her fingers tightened around the serrated blade she'd been concealing, her eyes glittering with madness. If she could never attain that happiness for herself, then you didn't deserve to either.

She was done watching her sister have everything while she wallowed in darkness. One way or another, the path of perfection you walked would be drenched in ashes and ruin—

she would die trying.

I know the chapter's short, but I'm saving a big juicy chapter for the ending!

— lovelyiida

TAG LIST ❥: @xo-evangeline, @inlovewithteo217, @im-better-than-your-newborn, @nar00, @king-dynamight, @gold24fish , @xasilex, @the-queen-of-sorrows , @itgetzweird08 , @yoyosocks165 , @pebblepoop , @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz , @zukowantshishonourback , @ilovedenk-i , @atsushiki , @smolbeanzzz , @lem-hhn , @stevenknightmarc , @katsu-shi , @ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls , @lyn07s , @kennshifts , @ackerman-suck-3-r , @alicen23 , @xasilex , @elegantvoids , @lowkeyremi , @plutounderbridges , @k0z3me , @thecurlyhairedgoddess , @sunyrose , @winterv-black , @chuugarettes , @kiarathace , @thisbicc , @hyu-hl , @katsukisxslut , @optimisticprime3 , @cosmicbreathe , @yessimo , @sanemishina , @snxwycloud , @cosmic-rainstorm , @venus-xxoo , @lavender99 , @iluv-ace , @artfulthoughtsblog , @thatcreepycat , @lavalampfullofsoup , @starxsage , @mikestuffffs , @kazuumii , @slut4donghyuck , @sikuthealien , @grinnwolph , @geniejunn , @the-dumpster-fire-of-life , @neoclb , @camilo-uwu , @cheesetouch101 , @sinyaaa , @pearlywhitefics , @spitfireball , @attractivepie

[psuedosugu]

thinking about suguru with a witch-hunted reader.

“she’s a witch, she has to be!”

“she’s unholy, impure.”

“that girl, she has the devil in her.”

-regular whispers you heard from the inhabitants of the remote village you lived in, their judgmental gazes piercing into you, as they sensed your cursed energy, as they sensed that something was wrong with you.

you learnt to stay indifferent to their words, or at least to look the part, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t get to you sometimes. you often dreamed of leaving for the city, but you had little money and life would be hard, perhaps one day, though.

perhaps their observations weren’t of zero substance, though. while it might not have been particularly demonic, there was something unnatural about you. since the age of 8, you had seen these……things….lurking in the corners and in the dark. they were horrifying, and they only grew more hideous as you grew older.

then, at about 14, you realize that you had this strange connection to the world, particularly the oxygen around you. as you learnt how to harness your powers, you were able to create wind with nothing but your hands, and as your power grew, you realized you could do so much more, condensing air enough to lift, slice, and squeeze items, it was beautiful, but dangerous. you couldn’t let anyone know about your abilities, you couldn’t prove them right.

you slipped up though, of course you did, you couldn’t keep this part of you locked away forever. they had their proof now, they had their warrant to lock you away, planning to burn you on the steak for all to see, for all to celebrate the death of the witch. they didn’t really think it would be that easy, did they?

you killed them, the day of your execution. you killed the executioners and the onlookers, leaving only few to run away. you looked around at the chaos you had created, dead bodies limped everywhere. you were alone, so what now? you grabbed your belongings, stole some money (the townspeople were dead, its not like they would miss it, anyways), and set off on a bus ride, determined to make yourself a life. this was a new beginning, you thought, you were leaving everything behind.

this proved to be harder than you thought, though. with the money you had pocketed, you were able to stay some cheap motel at first, so atleast you weren’t sleeping on the streets, but your money wouldn’t last forever. you resorted to bussing tables at an old diner. the pay wasn’t great though, and you found yourself feeling isolated. you had no one to help you here, you were foreign and alone.

the day you got kicked out of your motel room, you were sitting in a park, unsure what to do, when a strange man approached you. he was tall, with long hair half up, half down, and a strange aura to him. “are you [first-name] [last-name]?” he asked with a kind voice. you eyed the man with distrust, but nodded anyways.

“ah,” he said, “ive heard so much about you. i suppose i should introduce myself. im suguru geto.” he smiled. suguru had heard the hushed bickering of a curse user, one who wiped out a whole village in self defense. he found you intriguing, and a perfect addition to his cause, his mission to eradicate all non-sorcerers, or monkeys, as he called them. “…what do you mean, ‘you’ve heard about me?” you stammered out, eyes slightly widening. he ignored your question, instead asking “do you have a place to stay, miss [last-name]?” you shake your head no.

“well, you can come with me if you’d like. i have a place you can stay, with other curse users.” of course he didn’t tell you the fine print yet, he needed to rope you in first.

you messed around with the words ‘curse user’ in your mind. so thats what people like me were called? you also played around with the idea of trusting this man. he came out from nowhere, and his offer sounded too good to be true, but you couldn’t wave away the comforting feeling he radiated. he was like you, and things couldn’t get much worse than how they were now, you thought, so that settled it.

you went with the strange man, unsure of what would happen to you. little did you know, you would be getting sucked into a life-altering decision.

pt 2 is coming eventually guys dw!!

[justtwomushrooms]

(It's finally time I start posting on this dreaded website.)

The Illustious Client story breaks my brain in many ways but something that faszinates me so much is the Picture of Dorian Gray references Doyle slaps in there at the end, after the evil guy got hit by the toxin.

Like: - The features which I had admired a few minutes before were now like some beautiful painting over which the artist has passed a wet and foul sponge. They were blurred, discoloured, inhuman, terrible. - I could have wept over the ruin had I not remembered very clearly the vile life which had led up to so hideous a change. - “The wages of sin, Watson—the wages of sin!” said [Holmes]. “Sooner or later it will always come. God knows, there was sin enough,”

The entire theme of sin and evil in the end turning someone ugly. The first quote literally comparing the scene to a painting. Also the guy previously being described as very handsome ("He was certainly a remarkably handsome man. His European reputation for beauty was fully deserved. In figure he was not more than of middle size, but was built upon graceful and active lines. His face was swarthy, almost Oriental, with large, dark, languorous eyes which might easily hold an irresistible fascination for women. His hair and moustache were raven black, the latter short, pointed, and carefully waxed. His features were regular and pleasing, save only his straight, thin-lipped mouth. If ever I saw a murderer’s mouth it was there—a cruel, hard gash in the face; compressed, inexorable, and terrible. He was ill-advised to train his moustache away from it, for it was Nature’s danger-signal, set as a warning to his victims. His voice was engaging and his manners perfect. In age I should have put him at little over thirty, though his record afterwards showed that he was forty-two." - thanks Watson, very heterosexual of you). The parallels are so strong.

Like, I know for a fact that Doyle read The Picture of Dorian Gray, he mentions it in his autobiography.

I don't know what to do with that. Just find it curious.

[ateliersss]

Together Forever

Pairing: Tsu'tey Te Rongloa Ateyitan x Fem!Reader Summary: Soon you'll be one of The People… Cross-posted on AO3: here Word Count: 733

“Am I ugly to you?”

Today was your big day, the consciousness transfer. You would become one with your avatar, leaving your human body to be with the man you love and live the life you've wanted since you first met him.

The ritual for Jake happened the day before. Never would he ever be confined to a wheelchair again. Never would he ever leave this world and his mate to wake up in a link unit. And never would you.

Tsu’tey looked at you while he gently wrapped your body in an algae-like plant like they did with Grace’s three days ago. Nothing man-made was allowed near that sacred place you would go to in a few minutes.

“What do you mean?”

“The first day you trained me and I was making a fool of myself, you said my human-self must be hideous when my dreamwalker-self is already ugly.”

Tsu’tey stopped in his tracks to look into your eyes. A rare sheepish smile appeared on his lips. “That was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Tsu’tey grumbled before continuing his work. He was almost done. The plant was wrapped around your legs and arms and hid all your private parts which the na’vi had looked at with curiosity and fascination. You had been nervous the whole time and wanted to hide yourself while your mate explored your body with his eyes and hands. Not because you didn't trust him or because you didn't want him to see you, but because he had always despised and loathed humans and he might be disgusted.

What you didn't expect were the tender and careful caresses. You didn’t say a word to give him time, to let him do this in his own pace.

“All sky people are ugly.” He said in English.

Before you could even think of something you could reply with he continuied, “You are so small. So weak.”

You huffed. “That’s easy to say for someone who is a 10 foot tall blue alien.”

Tsu’tey chukled. “If anyone on this planet is an alien, it's you.“

“Yeah, you’re right.” You smiled up to him, taking his much bigger hand in yours.

Tsu'tey looked down at your intertwined hands with his usual poker face, but his eyes held all the love for you within them. “You are beautiful, you have always been beautiful. In this body or another. From the day I caught you in the forest with Jakesully to days I taught you all about us to our mating. You made me feel... something. That hasn't changed for a second. Not even now that you look like this.”

You sat there before him, stunned at his words. In the short time you spent getting close on a more intimate level, you realized that he wasn't a man of big words when it comes to expressing feelings. Nothing surprising. Rather, he showed his affection in a different way - going out into the woods to hunt and present you his prey; saving food for you when you arrived later at Hometree; gifting you clothes, weapons, holsters; giving you feathers, beads, pearls and other trinkets for your hair.

He had shown off his strength and skills with those gestures and you didn’t even realize he had been courting you.

Physical touch like holding hands, wrapping his arms around your waist or his tail around yours, cuddling or even kissing followed shortly after that but those moments were kept private.

However, after the revelation of your mating, some of it happend more and more often in front of the others. The revelation had been a disaster and caused an agitation within the Omatikaya clan but his promised mate had already chosen another as well. After that he didn't waste a moment to show others that you belonged to him. He was always by your side, holding you close to him while still looking like his strong and intimidating self.

You stood to be on an equal footing, took his face in your hands, and rested your forehead against his.

This short moment of togetherness was quickly interrupted by an awkward throat clearing.

“You’re ready? It’s time.” Jake said with a sly grin. Neytiri stood with a soft look on her face next to him.

You just rolled your eyes and looked back at Tsu’tey with an excited smile. 

“Soon you and I can be together forever.”

[captain-hawks]

Hi 💝 yuta okkotsu + coffee + green

yuuta okkotsu x reader

c: timeskip yuuta, fluff, feels

It’s not the warm, gentle breeze filtering in through the window that stirs you from sleep—nor is it the insistent chittering of the birds perched in the tree nearby, or the bright morning sunlight that floods across your rumpled sheets.

—it’s the fragrant smell of coffee wafting through the house, your tired eyes flying open the moment the scent hits you.

You don’t drink coffee.

Throwing back the sheets, you stumble out of bed and dash out of the room.

You don’t drink coffee.

The laminate flooring squeaks beneath your bare feet as you skid to a stop in the kitchen, heart clumsily skipping a beat at the sight of the man leaning back against the counter, an ugly, green mug with a chip in it clutched in one hand.

It’s hideous, really—it looks woefully out of place amongst every other cup lined up in your cabinets.

It was presumptuous of whomever made it in the first place, to think someone would want to drink out of something such an unpleasant shade of green.

—that’s exactly what you said when you plucked it up off of the shelf in a flea market stall years ago, laughing so hard at the agreeing frown on Yuuta’s face that it went clattering to the ground. Still not quite past the boundaries of friendship at the time, you’d both been flustered when you bumped heads and brushed hands as you dove to the floor to rescue it before the old woman sitting at the register nearby could notice. 

And naturally, rather than letting you sneak the ugliest mug in the world back on the unfortunate shelf from whence it came, Yuuta insisted on buying it once he realized that you’d chipped it. 

It’s such a goddamn ugly mug.

—and you’ll keep it forever, probably.

He smiles at you conspiratorially over the rim.

You don’t drink coffee, but he does.

“You’re home,” you whisper, biting your lower lip to suppress the size of the grin spreading across your face as you look at Yuuta. “A week early.”

The black strands of hair that frame his face have grown longer in the months that he’s been away, and you step forward, unable to deny yourself the need to card your fingers through the soft locks. Yuuta hums, his posture relaxing under the weight of your familiar touch, the looseness in his shoulders at odds with the dark circles that linger below his lower lashes. 

You’ve missed him so much—so much that it hurts, a splintering ache that’s settled deep in your bones.

“And you’re up early,” he muses, eyes sparkling with mirth as he reaches up and prods at a rogue strand of your sleep-mussed hair.

One of his hands comes to rest along the curve of your hip, the steady, seeping pang in your chest giving way under the warm pressure of his touch fluttering along your nerve endings.

You roll your eyes fondly and lament, “I just couldn’t resist the smell of hot bean water.”

Yuuta’s tongue darts out, passing over his lips, and he huffs, fingertips skating along your collarbone. A shiver dances down your spine as he drags them up the side of your neck, middle finger tracing the curve of your jaw before he finally takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Morning breath,” you grimace, despite the emotions swelling inside of you at the soft promise of his mouth hovering inches away.

“Don’t care,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Coffee breath?”

“Don’t care,” you echo.

Yuuta laughs, the noise reverberating through the kitchen and dripping like honey down the taut, yearning strings of your heart.

It’s a rich, beautiful sound.

One you’d do anything to hear.

One you’d trade for nothing—save for the quiet that follows when his lips finally find yours.

[annwrites]

no sound but the wind. part one.

— pairing: adar x fem!reader

— type: part of mini-series

— summary: adar finds personal use for you as a slave of a different kind.

— tw: non-con

— word count: 3,212

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr

“And do you swear allegiance to Adar, father of the Uruks?”

You stare ahead at the man he speaks of—if he is even truly a man at all—observing his long, black, silken hair, his gray, sallow skin, the ruined sides of his face where the skin is pulled taught from scarring due to, you presume, fire—his thin lips tightly pursed while he awaits your answer. And it’s then that you notice his pointed ears.

His is an elf. How—how could he let this happen? How can he partake in it? He is meant to be wise and strong, yet gentle and fair. Not…whatever he has instead become.

It does not much matter how he has come upon the path which he now follows. What’s done is done.

All is now lost that once was to you because of it. That you’d most loved. That which had brought you joy and much more.

Like your village, where trees had flowered and bloomed year-round. Those of almond and chestnut, apple and peaches, sour lemons and limes. Some, which ivy grew upon the trunks of, while blossoms were peppered throughout green leaves that dappled the ground below in sunlight, which rays shone through from a clear blue sky above—white, fluffy clouds slowly floating past.

Or lush, soft, green grass which you would lie upon and nap. Clear, cool running water in streams that were always warm in the summer, and crisp in the autumn when those same sticky apples fell into the soil, feeding it until the year next when farmers would tend their fields of potatoes, carrots, pumpkins, lettuce, and strawberries—the various types of crops nearly endless. Mayhaps a few bushes of berries were to be had, as well.

Animals grazed the fields: cows and sheep and goats alike, and chickens would peck about around the settlement while pigs oinked in their pens, lazy cats slept upon windowsills, and pups ran along after smiling, playful children—their adoring parents watching along after them as young couples in love strolled into the small market in the middle of town to purchase goods.

Like spices and cured meats, colorful fabrics and dresses, woven baskets and pillar candles, pots and pans, and shimmering, beautiful glassware, among so much more.

And there would be gatherings in the square quite regularly: dances and festivals, competitions in archery or axe throwing, or quilt-making and pie baking.  Woodworkers and blacksmiths would presents their creations to all for purchase, for the cost of a pretty, shining coin—celebrations abound. Music and delicious foods were to be had, young maidens with flowers in their hair waiting for a kiss as their dresses of chiffon and tulle swayed round their slippered feet.

In the evenings, fireflies would flit through the air like tiny sparks of light while you and your mother would prepare dinner, your father always tending to something. Whether it was in your household’s small stables outside—where horses would quietly whinny as he fed them or brushed them down—or inside, fixing something in the cottage where the three of you lived contentedly.

And you would listen through open windows to crickets and cicadas while you quietly read your parents a story or two from a novel you’d retrieved from upon the mantle your grandfather had designed when the home had been his and your grandmother’s—the books hers—the three of you sitting before a small fire in the main room’s hearth.

And now… Now the once-fertile and emerald hills are unrecognizable. They have been, instead, replaced by black sludge and darkened, smoking ash—the skies overcast and always looking to be on the verge of an ugly storm as these hideous beasts rape the land for all it is worth.

They take and they take, and for what? Perhaps merely just to destroy for the sake of the act.

You will not willingly partake in ruining your beloved homeland. You would rather die and be with them: your family, your friends—forever to live upon those rolling hills once you shut your eyes for the last time.

You raise your chin, ignoring how it trembles when you meet his black, empty eyes.

He does not react. Does not so much as raise a brow in interest as he gazes back at you.

Something shifts behind you, and you steel yourself—refusing to look. You will not tremble in the face of death which calls you home.

And then he raises a hand from where it rests beside him, upon the arm of his make-shift throne—but barely, at that.

“Wait,” he calls quietly.

You hear something settle into the dirt and gravel behind you once more.

He rises slowly, descending step after step in measured moves, until he’s standing before you.

He places an index finger beneath your chin, tipping your face upwards, forcing you to meet his eyes.

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“Comely little thing, aren’t you?” He says softly, his voice monotone.

You keep your mouth shut.

He nods infinitesimally. “Take her to my tent. Ensure she’s watched carefully. I’ve use for this one.”

One of the monsters he commands takes hold of your upper-arm, his other hand coming to tug at the shackles which bind you, pulling you away.

“Kill me!” You finally shout, tears brimming in your eyes.

He turns slightly from where he’s begun ascending his throne once again, looking at you from over his shoulder.

You tug against your restraints, pulling free of the revolting thing that touches you.

“I want to die, so kill me. I’m of no use you to here. I do not know how to…”

You shake your head, grasping for words in your panic. “How to carve wood, or assemble structures, or break apart stone—”

He chuckles lowly, turning round fully, coming back to you.

He slides his rough hand along your soft cheek before cupping the back of your head. He tangles his strong fingers in your hair, yanking your head back by those same strands, causing you to whimper in pain.

“You think I desire you for hard labor?”

You gulp in fear.

“I have far different plans in-mind for you. You will serve me well in other ways. Ones more…”

His eyes trail slowly along your body, before meeting your own once again. “Suited to your feminine form.”

You choke back a sob, realization filling you, along with an unbridled sense of terror.

He releases you again, nodding toward his crony.

You’re taken in-hand once again, and led away—your pleading cries falling upon deaf ears.

Adar’s tent is nothing exceptional—somewhat opposite of what you’ve expected it to be.

His bed is not a cot, surprisingly—certainly large enough to fit two, if not two-and-a-half—and he has a rather cluttered war table, which you’ve been informed, quite firmly, that you are not to touch. So you look at it, instead, from a distance from the wooden chair you’ve been provided.

You see small metal and wooden figurines placed about—construction plans, you assume.

You fail to understand what he could possibly want with the now-destroyed land, but decide you ultimately don’t want to know. You’d rather remember it as it’d once been instead.

You glance to the entrance of his tent, where an Uruk stands guard—the flap pulled back, allowing you a peak outside as the others like him mill about, coming and going and working.

Bile rises in your throat at the sight of them. They’re wretched. Cursed. Vile.

You won’t let him touch you.

You’ll do whatever you must to instead give him cause to drive a blade through your beating heart instead. You will not dishonor yourself—not even for the sake of survival.

You will die as you had lived: as yourself.

You’d waited so long for him to come—rehearsing in your head all the ways you might achieve that which you most desire at his hand; but nevertheless of your own causing—you’d fallen asleep.

You jolt awake when heavy footsteps enter the tent, staring in fear as bastardized elves carry inside a large, wooden tub full of steaming water.

They settle it into the middle of the space, retreating just as promptly as they’d come.

And then he steps inside, the once-open curtain flapping closed behind him.

He settles his arms behind his back as he gazes down at you.

He glances to the tub, then back to you. “Bathe. Once you are finished, I shall next.”

He goes to his war table, seating himself heavily, opening a scroll which lies atop it, and he begins reading over the item in his large hand.

You remain seated, too terrified to move.

“I need…privacy,” you say—your voice breaking, tears filling your eyes.

He keeps his back turned to you. “And you have it. Now, do as I bid you.”

You slowly stand, feeling unsure on your feet—your movements hesitant and wavering—as you come closer.

You study the back of his head, nervously flitting your eyes about the table before him, searching desperately for a weapon.

“I would not attempt it.”

You jerk in surprise.

He sets the parchment aside, retrieving a small, sharply pointed figure in the shape of a diamond. “You’d do well to make things easier for yourself. Obey me, and your days will be easy. Don’t—”

You interrupt. “I’ll never give m-myself to you willingly. I’ll—I’ll kill you,” you say, the threat sounding far more like a question than anything else.

You do not see how his lip twitches in mild amusement.

Finally, he sighs, pushing out his chair, standing.

You shuffle backwards, desperate to get away from him—from this place as a whole—from all of the rot and disease that has now claimed this land you’d once called home. Once you’ve backed yourself into a solid pole, which upholds the side of the tent, you stare up at him.

“So you should instead kill me,” you finish.

He softly shakes his head, cupping your cheek gently, brushing his thumb along the apple of it.

“You merely think that you wish for death. I have quite…creative ways to make you obey, until death is so far from your grasp that all you can see ahead of you is more of whatever I’ve been forcing you to endure. Until you break. Until you are ready and willing to do as I please just to make the pain stop.”

He cups your other cheek, holding you firmly in-place.

“I have been here for a very, very long time. Longer than your young mind may ever comprehend. I am not a man who is easily swayed. Nor am I merciful to any others than my children. It is not in my nature. But, for your sake, if you do as I command, I may consider a more gentle touch.”

He releases you. “Time shall tell.”

Your face crumples and you begin to cry, all hope fleeing you of obtaining a different fate than whatever he has in-store for you.

He seats himself once more.

“Now, do as I’ve told you. I will not ask again.”

You tremble violently and feel distant from your body, but you still manage to strip yourself of your soiled, stained gown, letting the heavy material pool at your feet, before ridding yourself of your smallclothes next.

You keep your eyes on him—never removing them—as you step closer to the tub, and then ease yourself into the hot water, sucking in a sharp breath as you seat yourself.

 You grab the small bar of soap you’ve been provided, lathering yourself.

You wish to be finished sooner than late, but also want to take your time—to savor this final moment of something…nice. Because you will do it: find a way tonight to make him take your life.

You’ll not stop until he does.

The two of you remain silent as you cleanse yourself—desperate to get the stench of this new environment from your skin. It is no longer that of fresh air and flowers. It is now that of something pungent and oily.

Death.

That is what it is.

Eventually, you rise, drying yourself with a small towel, and then you glance around in a panic for clean clothes.

Just as you think to dress once again in your previous garments, he gestures toward the small wooden dresser beside the table where he sits.

“You’ll find clean tunics in the second drawer.”

Once you’ve put one on, you take a step back. “What of…trousers, or smallclot—”

“You won’t be needing them any longer,” he replies, rising, the two of you staring at one another as he unbuckles the belt from his waist which holds his sword, setting it atop the previously-occupied table.

You promptly look away, your nose growing warm and eyes stinging as you seat yourself at the foot of the bed, watching as shadows pass by the curtain at the front of the tent.

You tightly grip the blankets beneath you, considering, watching intently.

You hear water lapping, and then a quiet groan as he leans back, enjoying what heat still remains in the water that fills the tub.

“I wouldn’t,” he states in that rasping voice which barely reaches above a whisper.

You bristle.

“You’ll not make it more than a handful of steps before my Uruks return you to this tent. To me. You won’t enjoy what happens to you next.”

He sighs. “Save yourself some pain.”

“Why’re you doing this?” You ask tearfully.

He begins to wash himself, keeping his eyes trained on you. “What is it which you refer to?”

“You’re an elf. You’re supposed to… Meant to be kind. Wise and—”

“You think I value that which I come from?  You think the high elves of this land care any more for your life than they do my Uruks? Pride is their virtue. They see themselves above all else, including men. Because they’ve made it so. They would see us all sequestered away to darkened corners of Middle-Earth if it meant all could be theirs once again.”

A tear slips down your cheek. “You destroyed my home. Took everything from me. And you think I mean to give myself to you? Willingly? To play at being your—your—”

“You will be my concubine. And nothing else. That is your role now. In time…you may come to see matters differently. Come to see me differently.”

“That will never happen,” you whisper.

He rises from the tub—his damp strands dripping at the ends as he shrugs on a clean tunic, padding toward you.

He grips your chin, forcing you to look up as he towers over you. “In time, I believe it will. For your survival, if naught else. Even if you find such a prospect to be of little value to you now.”

He grabs you roughly by the arm then, forcing you to your feet.

Your chest presses against his own as tears slip from your exhausted eyes—your heart pounding like a hammer against cloth at him being so close.

“I’ll give you one final chance, child. Give your body to me willingly, and be given mercy, or don’t, and I will unleash upon you pain unlike any you’ve ever known.”

You make a split-second decision, praying it be your last.

You swing your free arm upwards, swiftly, and slap him as hard as you possibly can.

He barely reacts as he turns his head back in your direction, shaking it lightly.

“Pain it is, then.”

He throws you back onto the bed, swiftly removing his tunic, settling all his muscled weight atop you, weighing you down—forcing you into place as he forces your own garment up and over your head, ignoring your screaming, pleading, panicked protests as you battle against him.

You squirm and pound your fists against his chest, and kick your legs and wail in terror, but he acts as if he does not even notice.

He grips each of your wrists tightly in his hands, holding them above your head while he knocks your legs apart with his knee.

You suddenly still, fervently shaking your head, choking on your own tears as you struggle to draw in even one steady breath.

“Please—Please don’t. I beg of you! Please, not this! Please, please!” You scream shrilly.

“I gave you another way and you refused it. Now, you will learn.”

He plunges inside of you with one forceful buck of his hips and you choke on your own saliva at the excruciating pain which manifests between your thighs. Burning. You feel as if you are on fire where his body now connects with your own.

And he is anything but gentle, just as he had promised you he would be.

He ruts away inside of you, grunting quietly, his skin slapping against yours as his long, throbbing member plunges in and out of you while he searches for his peak against your will.

You stare upwards, at the billowing canopy, desperate for it to end. Desperate to die. To disappear.

This is nightmare from which you will never wake, and you have naught to comfort you from it.

No home.

No family.

No friends.

No warm bed of your very own where you may rest.

No village which is full of joy and safety.

No nothing.

Nothing is left.

Not even that which you’d hoped to one day give to your husband.

He has taken every single thing, and intends to take even more yet still.

You break then—far sooner than expected, than you'd hoped—resigning yourself to letting him have it.

You will instead go away inside yourself, back to the place you most wish to return to.

And you find peace there. In a quiet field where vibrant butterflies flit about, and chimes which hang upon tree branches tinkle gently in the wind.

You close your eyes, humming in contentment as the sun warms your skin, listening as sheep baa at one another close by.

And then you are ripped from the fantasy and forced back inside that claustrophobic tent as he pours himself deeply inside of you, moaning as he takes his final thrusts—pushing his rotten seed further into your core.

Finally, he collapses beside you, heaving for breath.

You do not move. Not an inch.

Hot tears slip silently from the corners of your eyes while he runs out of you elsewhere. Your body begins to gently jerk against your will in shock, and you sniffle and whimper in pain and fear.

After a moment, he rises, washes himself off, then pours for himself a mug of water, downing it quickly.

He pours himself another, leaning back against the dresser across from where you lie.

“It will get easier when you let it,” he states.

He takes another long drink. “It’s been…many years since I’ve had a woman—a maiden, even more-so.”

You refuse to look at his blood-stained member.

He returns to you, seating himself upon the edge of the bed, his leg bent at the knee as he gently grasps your chin, his fingers ghosting along your hot skin.

“As such, I don’t intend to let you go. So, do what you must.”

He sets his mug atop the bedside table, climbing atop you once more.

“I shall do the same,” he states, sheathing himself inside your slick core once again.

[reallyromealone]

can you do sanzu angst to fluff with a pregnant omega (third trimester) and his omega is annoyed / sad at the fact sanzu won’t do the “devils tango” with him anymore so his omega doubts his beauty and relationship with sanzu and gets really insecure but really sanzu is just scared about hurting his pup(s) now that they’re in the 3rd trimester ╥﹏╥

(you don’t have to write anything hardcore explicit at all, maybe just a reconcile with some flirtatious words at most if you want :D)

Warning: explicit conversation, male reader, mentions of sex, omegaverse, mpreg

Sanzu x male reader

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

Every time like clockwork.

The two would be getting frisky and suddenly Sanzu would stop and looked uncomfortable whenever (name)s shirt would come off...then drown himself in work.

(Name) sat on their bed as he looked in the mirror, his large belly on full display with their twins, (name) in the starting stages of his third trimester and gently touched the stretch marks across his lower belly as if they would burn him if he put any pressure.

He could barely look at himself anymore, he felt gross... Even his alpha didn't want him.

Haru barely touched him, he must have been hideous to the pink haired man.

Why else would be look so freaked out when they would get intimate?

(Name) started wearing clothes that covered his belly, not hiding it as that was a challenge but concealing it more and didn't bother trying to get intimate with Haru as the Alpha worked later and later.

Haru came home exhausted as he saw his beloved in the kitchen, making a snack it seemed though the snack didn't look like what the Omega would typically have but he didn't question pregnancy.

Haru walked behind his mate, pumping out pharamones as he hugged (name) from behind, rumbling a bit as he kissed (name)s scent gland, the Omega letting out a distressed whine and Sanzu immediately looked worried, turning his mate to check him "who hurt you" he said seriously and (name) wanted to cry "alpha doesn't want me" he choked out, the mixed signals making the Omega stressed.

"What do you mean?" When it came to (name) Sanzu would immediately go from big scary vice president of Japan's most fearsome crime organization to doting worried alpha in seconds as he led (name) to the livingroom, the Omega sitting on the couch as Sanzu crouched before him and held his hands gently, looking at his beloved with worry "tell me what's going on" he said softly, thankful he went to those god forsaken classes to learn better communication skills for his mate and pups "whenever we do stuff you look horrified and pull away... I know I don't look how I looked before and I got stretch marks and I'm huge and--"" you think I'm not attracted to you?"

"You push me away the second I show my belly! Then you drown yourself in work! Why don't you want me?!" (Name) sobbed as he pulled away and hugged himself and Sanzu felt his heart break at this "you know how hard it is to hold back?"

"W-what?"

"You know how hard it is for me to not pin you down and fuck you stupid? To bend you and manhandle you till you're crying on my cock? How often I jerk off to the fact you're swollen with my kids? The cute tits you have?"

(Name) was beet red at this point "then why do you pull away?"

"I don't wanna hurt the pups, you're close to giving birth, I don't wanna fuck you injured" Sanzu said kissing his belly.

(Name) giggled at this and let Sanzu wipe away any tears "you're gonna be a good dad" (name) said sweetly and Sanzu kissed him gently "now I think it's time I remind my omega how sexy he is"

[bunni-v1]

Curée

Chapter 1: Monster in the Woods Next Chapter

Tw: Mentions of animal death

Info: Rook x Reader; Vil x Reader(familial); Epel x Reader(platonic)

🍓Ahhhh, it's done! If this is well received, I will continue it. If not, I guess I'll drop it. Oh well, I worked hard on this... so I hope you all enjoy it!

Tags: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck

You hated parties, plain and simple. Socializing with the elites of society was always so drab. Their fake smiles, empty compliments, and hideous attire always made them hard to deal with. The worst part, however, had to be getting ready beforehand. Your handmaids awoke you before the sun was even up, practically drowned you in your bath, and then stuffed you into the tightest corset only to make it worse with the fluffiest dress known to man.

You understood you had to look presentable, but beauty comes at a hefty cost — a cost you hated paying. 

If you had a choice, you would be out hunting. Feeling the wind in your hair, smelling the sweet soil of the earth, and hearing the melodic tunes the birds would sing for you. However, you were the princess. You were obligated to be at your own birthday celebration, you supposed.

Besides, since your parents passed, Vil had become rather restrictive in what you can and cannot do. Vil loved you, and only wanted what was best for you. You understood that he was scared that he could lose you, too. Neither of you could ever live without the other. You were his rock, and in turn, he was yours. That's how it always had been. So, for the sake of your brother’s sanity, you gave up adventure for a more “acceptable” lifestyle.

Still, Vil would catch you staring out over the trees in longing, just as you were doing right now, and scold you. ‘You have a duty,’ ‘You cannot risk yourself, we have a kingdom to lead,’ and so on. 

How you missed it, though.

A knock sounded at your door, pulling you out of your thoughts. The maids were finished with you for now, who could this be…?

“Who is it,” you called, poising yourself just in case it was your brother.

“It’s Epel, your majesty!”

You relaxed again — well, as much as this corset would allow you to. 

“Come in,” you called, adding as he turned to face you, “and none of that Your Majesty nonsense around me, we are friends first Epel.”

“I know,” he laughed, “You can never be too sure when Vil is lurking around.”

“You are right, and the last thing you need is to be in trouble with Vil once again.”

You gestured for him to sit on the window sill next to you, and he smiled. Epel was likely your only true friend in the castle. Plucked off the streets by your brother, thanks to his charming face, and made a lower member of the court. The only member that wouldn’t snitch on you and your misadventures to gain favor with your brother. He was the only reason you were able to have any fun in your boring castle life.

“What brings you by, Vil seemed to have you on a busy schedule until the party, so I’m sure this must be important if it’s worth Vil’s wrath.”

“I have a present for you,” he replied, eyes lighting up in mischief.

“Epel,” you deadpanned “I’ll be opening all my presents tonight in front of the party-goers. You may be my friend but you don’t get special treatment.”

“No, no, no, this is a special secret gift,” he smirked.

“Please tell me you won’t try and court me.”

“Euch, no. Just- Here.” 

He pulled an ornate box from behind his back and placed it in your lap, wrapped in a lovely velvety red bow. It was rather large and rectangular, and you weren’t sure how you didn’t notice it when he came in. You raised your eyebrows at him, and he waved his hands to urge you on. 

You began to carefully undo the bow on the top, humming as it fell off onto the floor. It seems Epel had taken care when packaging this gift, so you would take care to open it. Lifting the lid, you found a protective felt covering over whatever this was. 

“Could you hurry up,” Epel snapped, earning a glare from you.

“I don’t want to damage the packaging! You took such care with it.”

“You’re too sentimental. Let me do it.”

He reached over and, without much fanfare, revealed a bow. A bow made out of the finest wood you’d ever seen, painted white and purple. Hand-carved designs along its limbs, golden details highlighting each intricate swirl in the pattern. It was the most beautiful bow you’d ever seen, the sturdiest as well. You ran your hands along it in awe and delight. Along with it was an equally intricate quiver stocked with arrows of similar design to the bow. 

“Epel, this is…”

“I know you’re not allowed to go hunting with me anymore, but… I thought that maybe tonight we could make an exception?”

“Vil would be…”

“What Vil doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

You frowned, looking back to the beautiful bow your friend had made for you. Your brother would be crossed with you if went against his wishes. You looked back to Epel, hope glimmering in those comforting eyes of his. Damn it all.

“Alright, just this once, though. This bow is too pretty to be wasted after all.”

Epel practically jumped with glee at your answer, hopping around like a mad hatter and whooping with delight. His excitement was infectious, and if your corset weren’t so painful to move in, you’d have joined him. Instead, you laughed at his antics and cheered him on from your seat on the window sill.

Another knock at your door caused the commotion to stop suddenly. Epel frantically took the bow and tossed it beneath your bed before peaking his head outside the door.

“Your Majesty… funny seeing you here…” he chuckled nervously, and you knew he would be in some hot water later.

“You are supposed to be with the rest of the court. Instead, I hear you are not only not doing that, but you are harassing the person of the hour with your screaming,” Vil scolded as he pushed his way into the room.

“I was just visiting them. We are friends, after all.”

“Friends or not, Epel, they do not need you bothering them in their private quarters on such an important day.”

“Oh, Vil, please. I invited him here because I was bored on my lonesome,” you sighed, “Epel, you are dismissed. I will deal with Vil.”

Epel scrambled out of the room as if it was on fire — with Vil’s temper, it might as well be. You turned to your brother, annoyance clear on your face, and he matched the look.

“You learned that look from me, you know.” he snarked.

“Well, I wear it better,” you sassed back, earning a smile from your brother.

He moved to your tea table, sitting in his usual seat against the wall and gesturing for you to do the same. You follow suit, sitting in the one with the clearest view of the forest. Without meaning to, you allow your eyes to linger a moment too long, and while Vil does not say anything you know he noticed. He reaches his hands across the table and grabs yours in his own like he always does when he is alone with you.

“You look beautiful, our parents would be so proud.”

“I feel as though this corset wants my insides to be my outsides.”

He laughs, bright and clear like the morning sun — he rarely does anymore, so you savor every moment you can get. His hands squeeze yours tight, and you squeeze back just as tight, suppressing the proud grin you had for making him laugh.

“Today is special,” he spoke softly, running his thumbs over your knuckles.

“It is, I am old enough to be wed — perhaps I could marry Epel, then he will truly be family.”

He grimaced, pulling away from you, “Please don’t suggest such a thing.”

“You know we are the least compatible people on this planet,” you laugh, “besides, he is already family enough.”

He nods, either in agreement or understanding — you cannot make out which it is from his expression. He recomposes himself, schooling his expression into one of practiced poise, and you know your brother will not want to joke around anymore. Sucking it up, you follow his lead and school your expression as well. 

“I’m assuming you didn’t come here just to scare off Epel, did you?”

“Astute as ever, darling,” something in his voice sends chills up your spine. Something is wrong, and you don’t know what. “You are… older now. Old enough to marry.”

“I… know that, as I’ve said. That was just in jest, nothing serious.”

He stands, moving to pace around the room as if this was more stressful for him than it was for you. Knowing your brother, it most likely was. Still, you didn’t quite understand what his purpose was.

“My love, perhaps it is time you stop jesting. You are a Princess. You have duties, and… as the queen of this country, I must ensure you fulfill them.”

“Vil-“

“I’m not saying you have to make your decision right now, Sevens knows I don’t want you getting married yet. Still, there are suitors who would like a grab at your hand.”

“Vil, this is-“

“I’ve told a few that they may try your hand, but if they are forceful you will tell me and I will deal with them at once.”

“You… approved these strangers without my permission? Vil! How could you?“

“This is what is best for you, I’m sorry…”

He stops in front of you, bending down to look you in the eyes and gently taking your face into his hands. 

“You know I have never once asked something of you that I did not see as necessary,” he said, uncharacteristically desperate, “Please understand, I am doing what is best here.”

Truthfully, you did not understand. You did not understand at all and you were angry. This was the angriest you had ever been with Vil — far more angry than when he banned you from hunting. He had deliberately done this behind your back. He was stripping you of your freedom as a person without your okaying it first. 

This was unfair. This was sickening. This was… this was… this was the life you were born into. This was the responsibility you would have to bear at one point or another. So despite the burning rage in the pits of your stomach, you sighed and pressed your brother into a tight hug.

“I understand, Vil. I’m not angry with you,” you lied, voice sweet as honey.

You’ve become quite good at lying.

He pulled away, standing and recomposing himself fully before cusping your face in his hands again. He seemed to be going through a million different emotions at once, but the most obvious seemed to be guilt. He truly did mean only the best for you. 

“I must go, I am very busy with planning,” he stated suddenly, turning for the door, “I will see you tonight, the handmaids will be back to tend to your hair soon.”

With a final, graceful wave, he was gone and you were alone. Alone to sit with the thoughts that he had forced into your head. Alone, knowing that the freedom you longed for would forever be out of your grasp.

You looked to the forest for an answer, but it remained silent.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

The party was in full swing now. The cacophony of people chattering amongst themselves and the whining sounds of the orchestra’s strings were giving you a headache. Looking at the swirling colors of horrendous dresses and suits – far too ornate and gaudy – only seemed to further the ache in the back of your skull.

You sighed, massaging your temples for the millionth time tonight. This wouldn’t be so bad if you could get up and drink and let loose like your guests, but as the princess, you had to keep appearances. Regardless, this stupid corset and dress hardly allowed any freedom of movement, so dancing wasn’t exactly an option.

Your brother seemed pleased with you, though, with a pleasant smile on his face each time he locked eyes with you from his place in the crowd. He was allowed to mingle, but not you. You were far too important for such a thing. 

Sigh. Keeping Vil happy was far more important than pretending to enjoy the company of your party guests, you supposed. Still, you were quite jealous of your brother's freedom to move around and do as he pleased.

You scanned the crowd, taking note of the more important people among the average attendees. Leona Kingscholar was likely the most notable, being the prince of one of the largest kingdoms in all of Twisted Wonderland. While he wasn’t a direct heir to the throne, the power he held as second in line – technically third if their kingdom dared to crown such a young child as king – was substantial. He had quite an air about him. You were intrigued, but he scowled every time he looked your way, so the sentiment was not shared.

Riddle Rosehearts, the son of the neighboring kingdom's governess. You never liked his mother, she was controlling with quite the temper. Riddle only seemed to be the same, with a fiery temper worse than Vil’s own. He was quite a stickler for the rules, making him a perfect candidate to take a spot in his country's cabinet as soon as possible. He was already working as an intern below his mother, so it was only a matter of time before he worked his way to higher power. How terrifying for his people.

Kalim Al-Asim was, perhaps, the only aristocrat you liked at this god-forsaken party, alongside his right-hand Jamil Viper. An heir to an extremely successful oil company, he was the second closest thing to royalty that one man could possibly be. He had a bright smile on his face every moment, and it seemed to catch on with the other party-goers. Every time he looked up to you, he gave you an excited wave that almost made the corset worth wearing. 

There were other notable men, such as Azul Ashengrotto who was the head of – what you assumed to be – a very successful business of sorts. You weren’t sure of what it was, but you knew it wasn’t completely legal. Idia Shroud was also among the men in the crowd, though he seemed like he’d rather be dead than be here. You could not blame him. He was a known shut-in, and rather unpleasant to talk to. Still, he had the power to inherit from his family, earning him a spot among the elite.

You could tell detailed accounts of every single person in this ballroom's life, even the more average citizens that were allowed in. That aristocrat recently cheated on his wife, causing her to leave him with half the fortune and their three children. That woman in the glittering green dress was a known harlot, sleeping around with any man or woman she could just for fun. You respected her for her freedom and for scheming her way into the pockets of the ultra-wealthy.

That one handled finances, those two over there were distant cousins of the crown in a neighboring kingdom, and that blonde man… Who was that blonde man? You’d… never seen him before, but he was captivating in a way you’d not expected. 

His straight-cut blond hair was hidden beneath a most peculiar hat. He had sharp green eyes that seemed to stare straight into your soul. His dress was far more humble than the other nobles. A simple suit with pretty purple accents to respect the crown. 

He locked eyes with you for a moment, smirking to himself as if he had found you amusing. Your heart fluttered in your chest as he winked at you, and then… he disappeared behind a pillar. You searched around for him frantically, but he was gone for good, it seemed.

You frowned, slumping down onto your throne, tossing your head back in defeat. Now that the only interesting person here was gone, you would be stuck in this very uncomfortable seat for at least another three hours with nothing to do. You might as well get comfortable. 

Suddenly, however, a voice cleared in front of you, interrupting your wallowing. You raise your head with a scowl, only to jolt up at the scariest sight known to man. Your brother, arms crossed with a stern glare, and next to him two of the most powerful men in all of Twisted Wonderland.

When had they even begun heading up here, while you were lost searching for your mysterious Romeo?

Malleus Draconia, and next to him was his right hand Lilia Vanrouge. Malleus was tall, dark, and horrifying to be in the presence of. One of the most powerful mages in the whole world, and the heir to the strongest kingdom known among your circle of aristocrats. He always looked as stony as the position he held, and being up close was far worse.

Lilia, while far more inviting than his master, was not someone to be taken lightly. He was an impressive magician with skills rivaling most of his peers – he was also the man who taught Malleus everything he knew. Not only this, but he was a renowned general and caused the devastation of thousands of human lives. 

Their kingdom had just recently joined the united front that your own was a part of, leaving only the notoriously reclusive Nobel Bell as the last independent kingdom yet to join. Supposedly they were trying to introduce Fae to human society, as they’d been living in fear since the great war ended. This was the first big human celebration Malleus had been to since the agreement went through. Perhaps that was why your brother brought him to meet you personally. 

Surely, that was it.

You stood, smiling at the pair with a small curtsey out of respect – your brother nodded his approval. 

“Vil, who might these two lovely people be?” you asked, feigning ignorance though you had no reason to. Everyone who was anyone could recognize these two without thought. 

“This is Prince Malleus of The Valley of Thorns, and his courtier Lilia Vanrouge,” Vil introduced, seemingly a bit unnerved – quite unlike him.

You introduced yourself in kind, curtseying again to show your respect, less Vill feed you to the dogs tonight. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, especially since you came so far just to see me on my birthday.”

“A birthday is an important event,” Malleus states matter-of-factly, voice deep and smooth as chocolate. 

“I suppose you are correct, Your Highness. Still, it is quite a ways to travel and I am honored that you would make yourself a guest for my birthday party,” you responded, proper and elegant as you had been trained.

“Of course, I would come, you are my future partner, after all,” Malleus states, again, as if it is fact. 

This time, however, you break your perfect facade with a furrow of your brow. Your hands place themselves sturdily on your hips and you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“I’m sorry, I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”

Before he can speak, Lilia inserts himself, “Nothing is for certain, he is just one of the many lucky men who have been allowed a try at your hand.”

You try and steel yourself, but all you can manage is to straighten your back and scowl at your idiot brother. “I see, well, I’m sorry Prince Draconia, but you’ll have to work harder than that if you want my hand.” You stand from your seat, head as high as you can get it, “I am not a toy to be played with, I am a Princess and I expect to be treated as more than an object for you,” you turn to the crowd, which was gawking at your display already, “or any other man here’s liking!”

“Princess-” Vil tries, but you are already beginning to leave the situation. This party was simply a ruse to sell you off to the highest bidder, and you wanted no part in the auction. 

You don’t allow yourself to hear Malleus’ response, and you certainly do not allow Vil to stop you from leaving. Perhaps you were throwing a tantrum, maybe you were being childish, but you felt violated. You wanted to be anywhere but near any of those men at this moment. 

No one dared to stop the angry princess from storming out of her own party, not even the guards assigned to keep her there.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

The moment you got to your room you ripped the stupid dress off your body. Layer after layer, string after string was hastily removed until you could finally see your arms and legs again. Next would have been your corset, if you could reach the damn knot those stupid handmaids had tied. 

You struggled for what felt like an eternity until you could not stand, and fell into a sobbing heap upon your bed, hardly able to breathe through your tears.

“Stupid party, stupid dress, stupid corset,” you cried, “stupid, evil brother.”

A knock sounded at the door, and you curled into yourself as much as you could. You didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment – let alone your brother. You could hear his scoldings enough in your head already, you didn’t need anymore.

You heard the door creak open, and you covered your ears, waiting for an onslaught of insults and anger. Instead, you were greeted by a gentle hand on your arm. You sniffled, slowly unwinding yourself to look at who it was – surprised to see Epel. 

He’d never entered without an invitation before.

“Before ya yell at me, I jus’ figured ya needed a pal,” he said gently, rubbing your shoulder in small soothing motions.

“Wh-what about Vil…?” you manage to mumble out as your tears begin to subside.

“Too busy tryin’ ta keep face, so we can jus’ talk like normal.”

You nod, and Epel helps you to sit up properly, keeping a steady hand on you at all times. This was, perhaps, the most kindness you’d ever felt from a person in your whole life. Your brother was often cold and distant, even when he was reassuring you. Epel was always warm and inviting. You were glad to have him as a friend here.

He eased you to your feet, and from there he helped you out of your corset and into far more breathable clothing – your hunting clothes, from when you were younger. They were a bit too small now, but Epel still complimented your appearance as if you were in that same ballgown.

“Thank you Epel,” you sighed out, “did you…”

“Hear yer whole speech? Yeah, me and the whole party.” He laughed, giving you a comforting pat on the back.

You groaned, burying your head in your hands. Vil would never let you hear the end of it, your life and status was ruined – all because you couldn't control yourself. You were not made to be.

“Hey, hey, don’ cry ya hear,” Epel soothed, “most of the guests found it funny, ‘specially that one Lion guy whose always mean ta ya.”

“Leona found it funny?” you asked from behind your hands.

“He was hootin’ and hollerin’ like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen!”

You laughed a little, the image of a smiley Leona Kingscholar being enough to cheer you up. You smoothed over your ruined hair, looking into the body-length mirror across the room. You looked like a disaster, with clothes far too small for you and hair still half up and frizzy. You looked like you, and it made you smile.

“Thank you for helping me Epel, you are a good friend,” you said gently, taking his hands into yours.

“Maybe we should ask Vil if ya can marry me, then ya wo’ have’ta deal with all this mess.” He joked with a devious laugh.

You blanched, pulling away as fast as you could. That only served to make him laugh harder, nearly doubling over onto the floor. You couldn’t help but join him after a point, and you could hardly remember what had made you so upset in the first place.

Once the both of you settled, Epel turned to you with a more serious face. You squinted at him, knowing whatever idea he was about to voice would be incredibly idiotic. Still, his stupid plans were always the most fun.

“Yer all dressed up fer it, so why don’ we do a bit of hunting,” he proposed.

You raised your eyebrows, as if to challenge him, though you both know he had already won you over. “What about Vil, he’ll surely be looking for me in a short while.”

“He’s busy tryin’ ta fix the mess ya made – c’mon, you already said ya would.”

You feigned conflict for a moment, closing your eyes and placing a hand on your chin. You could feel Epel’s nervous squirming next to you, and you grinned wide and bright. “How could I possibly say no?”

“I’ll get ma knives,” he said, practically scuttling out the door, “Meet me at the fountain out back, I’ll be real quick!”

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

You’d never felt this free. Not since before your parents passed, at least. The wind, the dirt, the trees – you missed it all so much. You spun around, laughing as you did so, earning yourself a side eye from Epel.

You didn’t care, though, letting out a big sigh of relief, “How I missed this place!” 

You blew kisses to the sky, the trees, the ground, the animals, even to Epel. You didn’t realize how badly you wanted this until you were here.

“Be quiet ‘nd stop movin’ so much, yer gonna scare off all the animals,” Epel scolded.

“Okay, Vil.”

“Hey!”

You laughed, bounding ahead without a care in the world. You hadn’t been to your usual hunting spot in a while, you wondered if it had changed much. If Epel even went to it without you, or if he had his own spot away from it. 

Caught up in your high of temporary freedom, you almost missed a blur in the side of your vision. Too large to be any animal from this forest. Your head shot to the side, moving to draw a bow.

“What, what did’ja see,” Epel asked, and you were quick to shush him.

Drawing your bow, you watched the landscape with a careful eye, waiting for any subtle movement. You looked for any sound, any smell that could give away this mystery creature's position. You narrowed your eyes, focusing on where you first saw the figure, and… AHA! You fired your arrow, hitting your target head-on.

Both you and Epel scrambled over to see what you hit. Your heart was racing – what if it wasn’t just an animal, what then? You took a deep breath and pulled back the bushes to reveal… a deer. A buck, to be precise. You sighed.

“Just a deer.”

“All that tension for nothin’, you gotta stop scarin’ me like that.”

“Sorry Epel, I thought it was something else.”

“Whatever, jus’ relax, ‘kay?”

Little did either of you know, there was something – someone lurking in the darkness. Sharp green eyes follow your every movement with the same curiosity you watched them with earlier.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

It had been more than a few hours since you arrived at your designated hunting spot – still the same as you remembered it. The two of you had gotten yourself a good hunt; a vast collection of little critters native to these pretty forests. The butcher in town would have an influx of goods soon enough. 

Vil was, no doubt, already looking for you. You were sure he was assembling a guard at this very moment to come and find you, but you couldn’t care less. You had earned this little rebellion, no matter what he thought of it. Still, you couldn’t help the little ache in your chest telling you that what you were doing was cruel in an unimaginable way.

You hummed, sitting yourself down on a stump, neatly setting your bow and quiver next to you. Epel joined you with a curious raise of his brow, throwing his equipment off. You leaned onto his shoulder, smiling up at him. He smiled back, resting his head against yours.

He was more like a brother to you than your brother was. You don’t know what you’d do without him.

“Vil’s gonna kill me when we get back,” you sighed, feeling all the energy from before leaving your body.

Reality had to creep back in at some point, you just wished that it wasn’t so damn soon. You could spend a few more weeks out here with Epel. It was so peaceful, so calm, and everything you had missed so desperately since your parents passing.

“He’s gonna kill me more than you, ‘f it makes ya feel better,” Epel joked, trying his best to lift the mood.

You sighed, “What if we didn’t go back, then neither of us would die and we could stay out here forever.”

“Even ‘f we could, yer running out’ve arrows, and it won’ be any fun if you can’t hunt.”

You hopped to your feet, groaning as your feet ached in protest. You hadn’t noticed how tense your body had become from all your activity tonight. That's what you get for not being allowed to do any physical labor. You stretched your arms high above your head, twisting this way and that to ease the pain when you saw something. 

This time it was much bigger than the buck before. You tensed, turning to Epel, who had also noticed – if the look on his face was any indicator. Carefully, he crept toward his discarded equipment, to not catch the giant things' attention. He handed you your bow and quiver, though you were quickly running out of arrows to defend yourself with. 

A rustle sounded in front of the clearing, and the smell of this thing hit you all at once. The air in your little self-made clearing had become thick and heavy with ink. The kind you had back in your study, but the smell was suffocating. You placed part of your cape over your mouth to filter it a bit, but the smell persisted as strong as ever.

“What do you think it is,” you whisper to Epel, who seems to be doing just as bad as you are.

“Not sure, but I ain’t smelled somethin’ like this in my whole life.”

You nodded. You had no idea what this thing was – too big to be any animal you know. Most certainly not a human, so no worries about Vil’s guards. The size wasn’t what scared you, but the smell. An unknown animal that smelled like ink… unheard of.

The closer the thing came, the worse the smell got and the louder its movements became until you were sure it was right outside the clearing. You and Epel could try to run, but you had no idea how fast or smart this thing was – running could be a worse choice than staying and fighting it.

You looked to Epel, and he narrowed his eyebrows as if to ask if you were with him or not. With a deep breath, you drew an arrow out of the quiver, set it, and aimed right at where the large shadow loomed. You exhaled as you let the bow fly through the air, successfully hitting your target. 

It let out the most horrific, gurgling scream you had ever heard in your life – confirming that it was not an animal, but something far worse. It emerged from its hiding place.

This thing was nearly three men taller than you and covered in this thick, black, dripping ink. Worse yet, it had no face, just a glass jar oozing more ink out of it. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you couldn’t panic – not now that you had its attention.

Drawing another bow, you shouted at Epel, “Run back to the castle and find someone to help.”

“I am not leavin’ you here!”

“And I’m not accepting that answer. I’m more skilled than you in combat, and you’re faster on your feet than I am. You can get there faster than I ever could, and you could save me if you’re fast enough.” You said as you began to make distance with the monster. It was slow enough that you could move, but not so much that you could take your eyes off it.

“What– I can’t–”

“Epel, as your Princess I am ordering you to do this. Please.” 

He didn’t respond for a long moment, and you were afraid he would disobey you. He muttered something angrily, and without another word, carefully crept away into the woods. The creature turned to where his footsteps fell, beginning to slump toward him – surprisingly fast for its size. You drew another arrow, shooting it on its right side, and watching as the arrow slowly sunk into its inky surface. 

It turned in your direction, gurgling as it charged forward blindly. You scrambled back, almost losing your balance more than a few times – you were too rusty to be in such a risky position. You charged deeper into the forest as fast as you could, peeking over your shoulder to ensure it was far enough away from you at all times. 

You didn’t have time to find high ground, so you settled on hopping from bush to bush and tree to tree. You hit it multiple times successfully, but it only served to make it even more angry with you. Its ink was impervious to human weapons.

Settling behind a tree, you reached up into your quiver to grab another arrow. Shit. Only two arrows left, not that they would’ve done you much good, but they were your last line of defense. You realize, now that you can’t turn back, that you should’ve gone with Epel.

Shaking your head, you knew you couldn’t give up just yet. You couldn’t die here, for your brother's sake. You took a deep breath, placing a hand over your racing heart. Calm, you thought, calm like a princess, think like a princess. 

Okay. This thing didn’t seem to be able to see you, but it could hear – or maybe it was vibrations, but it seemingly could find you based solely on that. Hitting it’s body didn’t work, but you hadn’t thought to try for the “head” yet. If you could shatter the glass, maybe that could stop it. 

The glass jar was small and hard to make out beneath the ink and the dark of night, but you could estimate where to hit based on what you saw earlier. With only two arrows left, you had to be smart and swift, lest this thing make you its next meal – if it ate, that is.

You swallowed, plucking your second to last arrow from the quiver and drawing it in your bow. Peaking around the tree, you lined up the shot just right, then sent the arrow hurling across the forest. It hit with a satisfying ‘crack’, and you’d hit your target dead on. 

For extra measure, you took your last bow and drew it, aiming toward the beast and shooting the glass head once more. Another ‘crack’ and a few ‘thumps’ as thick pieces of its head fell to the ground. It remained unmoving in front of you, and you watched it with careful anticipation.

When it did not move again, you sighed, sinking to the floor in relief, holding your head in your hands. You had done it, you had killed the beast. You would live to see your brother, and you could not wait for his rage at your disobedience. You would take his anger over this any day.

Just then, however, you felt something in front of you. Your head shot up, and you would’ve screamed at the sight if it weren’t for the hand over your mouth.

In front of you was crouched the young man from the party, green eyes shining mischievously in front of you. He was still in his party attire, with the same goofy feathered hat as before. You narrowed your eyes at him, and he smiled leaning forward to whisper in your ear.

“Hush, Ma Belle,” he whispered, and you felt as though you might melt, “it can hear us if we’re too loud.”

You nodded, and he carefully pulled his hand away from your mouth. He, too, had a bow on his back – though his seemed to have a more magical tendency to it. You were not allowed to be around magic, thanks to the dangers it possessed, but you could recognize it easily since your father was once a talented magician and showed you all sorts of magical things.

This strange man noticed your eyes and gave you a wink. He stood to his feet, gesturing for you to stay where you were, and waltzed out in the open to the creature. You peeked out from your spot, watching with bated breath. 

The creature was twitching, its inky mass bubbling in a disgusting display. You had done quite a bit of damage to it, but not enough to kill it. The man, seemingly unphased by this sight, drew his arrow – infused with a glowing red magic – and shot it. The second it hit the monster, the ink began to boil and slowly slough off until there was nothing left but broken glass.

The man approached it, picking up a piece of glass and putting it in an inner jacket pocket. He turned to look at you, gesturing you forward with a come hither motion. Stunned, and unable to fully comprehend what had just happened, you stumbled forward as he wanted. You stopped awkwardly at his side, losing all sense of refinement and grace from before.

The man stood, fully addressing you now.

“You are a talented huntsman,” he said, voice silky smooth making you melt from the inside.

“Ah- uhm, ahem, thank you,” you paused, then quickly added, “You- you are as well, sir.”

He grinned, seemingly happy that you noticed, “Do you know what that creature you just fought was?”

“Uhm… I think I’ve heard of it in fairy tales, but those are just…”

“Scary stories to keep cute little things like yourself safe?”

You frowned, “I am not little, you were at my party earlier, were you not? You should be speaking to me with respect.”

“My apologies Your Majesty,” he bowed deeply, “you are cute though.”

You huffed, feeling your face warm at the compliment. The audacity of this strange man to speak to you like this. You… quite liked it.

“Just tell me what that thing was, and I won’t have you charged with harassment,” you threatened emptily.

He hummed, “If you must know, that was a phantom – the remnants of a magician who died from blot.”

You gasped. Blot was only in the fairy tales your mother would tell you… but so was that monster. Seeming to understand your confusion, the man pats you on the head.

“A sheltered princess is not expected to know so much about the world around them, do not worry Ma Belle,” he eased.

You had a million questions. Why was that thing in your forest? How could something like this possibly happen? Was Vil aware of these things? Why did he not tell you about them? Was this why you weren’t allowed in the forest? Most importantly, who was this mysterious savior of yours?

Before you could ask anything, however, the sounds of shouting came from somewhere further out. The man seemed to consider it, smiling a knowing smile, and then turned to you again. He took your hand, placing a kiss on its top.

“That is my sign to take my leave,” he stated simply, “do watch your back, princess. There are those in this world who wish you harm, and we could not have a pretty thing like you getting hurt, hmm?”

You swallowed thickly, feeling your face heating up at his words and a million more questions filled your head. You gaped at him, unsure of how to respond to what he said, completely captivated by his words.

He chuckled, eyes squinting in a beautiful way as he did so. He seemed to ponder something for a moment, despite his supposed need to leave. He placed a hand on the brim of his hat, smoothing it over, and his face lit up with delight. Seems he had found the answer, taking his hat off and placing it firmly on your head.

“An excuse to see you once more, Ma Belle,” and with a flourish of his hand, he was off into the darkness.

As the voices came closer and closer, you could not peel your eyes off of where he came from. Who was that mysterious stranger, and why did he make your heart pound so hard?