#better than the shrink wrap but very bad

[justthatspiffy]

"i have to get out of this smell. this is my waterloo"

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 8 - Cockwarming

Ghost x Soap x F!Reader - 1.6k

summary: Ghost keeps you on his lap while he watches a soccer game. (You POV)

cw: dom!ghost, subby soap & reader, cock warming, cunnilingus, overstimulation

“Simon,” you whine, sweat-slick back arching against his front as you strain for any sensation at all. “Please.”

“Hush,” he scolds, tweaking a stiff nipple and taking a swig of his beer. “‘M tryin’ to watch the game.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to take a deep breath, only to hiccup through the exhale when the cock impaling you shifts as Ghost spreads his thighs. 

You’ve been here for what feels like hours, but you know it’s only been about forty minutes, the steadily ticking clock at the top of the TV screen tells you just how slowly time passes when Simon holds you on his lap like this. 

Only five more minutes, you tell yourself, hopeful that he’ll fuck you at the halftime break, or at the very least let you have an orgasm. 

You feel more than hear him grunt behind you when you clench your inner walls around his length, your own eyes rolling back in your head at the overwhelming fullness. 

There’s a low whine from only a few feet away, and your eyes are unconsciously drawn over to where Johnny is kneeling beside the coffee table, naked and damp with sweat despite the fact that he’s been holding himself still just as long as you have, only without the cock inside of him.

Simon huffs, hooking his chin over your shoulder and leaning forward enough to see Johnny and – you assume, from the way Johnny shrinks a bit – glare him into further submission. “Quiet,” he stresses, irritated. “You’re distractin’ me.”

“But sir,” Johnny pushes, leaning closer with his hands clenched tight on his knees, knuckles white from pressure. “She looks so pretty, I need her so bad, please–”

Ghost doesn’t bother using his words, only grunts a harsh sound that has Johnny settling back onto his heels, looking properly chastised even as his flushed cock kicks against his stomach. You can’t help but moan as Ghost settles back again, every shift of him inside of you agonizing. 

One large hand rests against your stomach for the next few minutes, the callouses on Simon’s fingertips rough against your hypersensitive skin. He kneads your tummy mindlessly, pushing and pulling as he sips from his beer and grunts disapprovingly at the way his team plays. The repetitive motion calms you just enough that you can get a deep breath in, but nothing can distract you from the throbbing in your clit. 

It feels like another eternity has passed when the players all file off the field, the camera cutting away to commercial as the halftime break starts. You try to temper your enthusiasm as much as you can, but your heart races when you hear the sound of Simon setting his bottle on the coaster. 

“Alright,” he finally says, and it’s all you can do to keep from wriggling on his lap as he shifts to hold you more firmly in place. “Here, pup.”

Johnny practically throws himself forward, knees thudding loudly on the hardwood floor as he shoves himself between Ghost’s thighs, hands resting on your knees where they’re spread by Simon’s. 

Simon is quick to wrap his fingers in Johnny’s mohawk, holding him back from shoving himself face-first into the slick dripping steadily from you, and ignoring the heartbroken whine that ensues. 

“You gonna settle if I let you have a taste of the girl?” He grunts, shaking Johnny just a bit by the hair. You’re mesmerized by the way Johnny’s eyes cross, lashes damp and cheeks flushed as he pants beneath you. “Gonna start behavin’?”

“Yes, yes,” Johnny insists, nodding as much as he can. “Promise, sir, I can be good.”

Ghost snorts and scratches across Soap’s scalp, clearly disbelieving. “You better hope you can, otherwise you’re not gettin’ that pathetic thing between your legs anywhere near the girl until you prove you can behave yourself.”

You can’t tell if Johnny’s moan is heartbroken or horny when you nearly drown him out with your own cry at the cruel words. 

“I’ll be good,” Johnny insists, grip so tight on your knees that you’d worry he’d yank you out of your position if you were being held by anyone but Ghost. “Please, Lt, let me be good?”

“Hmm.” Ghost strokes over your belly and Soap’s hair at the same pace, careful to keep a firm enough grip that Johnny can’t move much more than he’s allowed. “Alright. You have ‘til the game’s back on.”

Before he can even finish his sentence, Johnny’s mouth is pressed against your cunt.

You cry out at the sharp burst of pleasure, at the relief of finally having something touching where you’re most sensitive, only to quickly melt into nothing but mewls and moans as you become overwhelmed. 

Johnny sucks your clit so hard that it’s almost painful, driving you to dig your nails into his scalp as you hold on for dear life. Simon wraps his arm fully around your waist, left hand holding your right hip tightly and his right hand keeping you open for Johnny no matter how much you struggle.

Your gasps are ripped from your chest as Johnny messily licks your cunt, Ghost’s chest rumbling against your back as he’s stroked by Soap’s tongue too. The sheer amount of sensation after so long with nothing almost blinds you, your entire world shrunk down to what can fit inside of you and what can rub against your clit in just the right way.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you gasp at a particularly rough suck of your clit. If you weren’t so mindless with pleasure you’d worry about just how hard your nails are scratching along his scalp, but the way he moans into your body wipes any hope of worry from your mind. “Johnny!”

“He treatin’ you well?” Ghost rumbles, pressing against your stomach. Any words you’d want to give him are stolen by the way he makes himself feel just that much larger inside of you, your hole so wet that you’re sure there’ll be a stain when you’re finally allowed to stand. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you hum, the only answer you can manage when Soap has taken to seemingly trying to suck the base of Ghost’s cock, only managing to lick around your hole instead. “So good,” you slur. 

“Sounds like it,” Ghost says, his patronizing amusement flying over your head as Johnny gives up on Simon’s cock and returns his full attention to your clit.

Your moans are driven higher and higher as you’re pushed closer to your long-awaited orgasm, your voice cracking as your feet kick helplessly against the couch, held firmly by Ghost. You couldn’t open your eyes if you tried, fingers digging deep gouges into Johnny’s hair and Simon’s forearm as you’re shoved towards your peak at a ruthless pace. 

You practically scream when Johnny just barely presses his teeth to your bundle of nerves, tongue lashing against you and throwing you off the cliff of release you’d been waiting on for so long. 

Ghost moans in sync with you as you milk his cock, squeezing him so tightly that it almost hurts you, hole stinging around his girth despite the juices coating all three of you. He doesn’t come, but the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you as your body does its best to coax cum from his nearly sends you spinning into a second orgasm. 

Johnny’s mouth doesn’t let up, even as your hold on him relaxes and your body goes limp against Simon. He only continues to lick at your clit, then around your pussy and trying to suck your lips into his mouth, licking you with a fervor that feels almost manic. 

“Johnny!” You gasp when he gives you just a momentary break, only to bite your thigh sharply enough that you jerk a few inches off of Ghost’s cock. 

“Down,” Simon snaps, shoving Johnny away from you with enough force to nearly send him sprawling. Johnny catches himself on the couch though, looking up at both of you with tears in his eyes and a cock that looks like it could cut diamond.

You coo a little, hand shaky as you reach out to cup the cheek Simon shoved. Ghost only scoffs over your shoulder, yanking you firmly back down so he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and nearly purring at your yelp. 

“Watch the teeth, mutt,” Ghost scolds as Johnny settles back between your thighs, pressing kisses to your soft skin as an apology. “Unless you want me to muzzle you again.”

“No!” Johnny yelps, wrapping an arm around your thigh and pressing himself as close as possible. “‘M sorry, sir, I didnae mean it, promise. I willnae do it again, swear.”

Ghost makes a low sound in his chest that sounds suspicious, but doesn’t push Johnny away or tell him off again. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he finally says, pushing a strand of hair back into place on Soap’s forehead. “Game’s not back for another ten minutes, you want to keep having fun with the girl or go back to your corner?”

“Wait–” you try to protest, but your voice is cut off when Johnny latches himself to your clit once again, sucking the oversensitive bundle like you aren’t still shaking from your last orgasm. You squeal at the pleasure-pain, body tense like a bowstring. “Please!”

“There you go,” Ghost purrs, resting his chin on your shoulder and squeezing your hip as your cunt spasms around him. “Attaboy, Johnny.”

Your brain practically melts out of your ears before you can string together enough words to beg for even a five minute break, but you can’t find it in yourself to be upset as Johnny practically catapults you towards another orgasm. 

[cloudyskydreams]

Hello I've loved all your writing and hope to see more if its okay to ask how would the skeletons react if the reader came home badly hurt from someone sorry if this make you uncomfortable keep up with the amazing rewiring love to see more

Hello! Let me just say I adored your cosplay of Black it looks so good!!

Secondly, there's not alot that'll make me uncomfortable! Just letting everyone know that for future reference if you got some weird or gross or angsty ideas I have no prob writing them ::3!

Anyways these were actually really fun to write and kept me busy at work when it was slow. Thanks so much for requesting!! Hope you guys enjoy ::>

Undertale:

Sans:

His sockets widen and his eyelights shrinks upon seeing you. He teleports over quickly and gets you to the couch as he asks what happened. He listens to your explanation as he makes you a 'dog for the healing properties and gets to work bandaging you up. He's pretty calm throughout it but he's not really cracking jokes and you can see the sweat dripping down his skull. Once you're considerably better than before he lets out a sigh of relief and cuddles close to you content to keep you company for now. Now Sans isn't a violent guy really he's more of a bard. Talk his way out of the situation. Later though, later he's going to find that douchebag and show them a bad time

Papyrus:

Papyrus smiles upon hearing the door open and spins around in the kitchen to greet you happily. His face contorts to one of horror upon seeing your state and the plate in his hand drops smashing across the kitchen floor. He's over by your side in a quick few strides and gently carries you to the bathroom where he sets you down on the couch. He gets you some of his monster candy stash and bandages you up asking about what happened, he sits next to you and gently asks if you'd like to call the police stating he'll be by your side the whole time. If you say no he might just go by himself when he gets the chance and report what he knows.

Underfell:

Red:

Upon first seeing you bruised and battered Red's mind goes blank. He stares at you for a solid minute with empty sockets before he starts yelling as he grabs you by the wrist , surprisingly gently, and leads you to the bathroom. He bandages you up and disinfects any wounds as well as giving you a monster candy before he demands to know who the fuck hurt you. He stays by your side till you fall asleep very clearly pissed off still everytime he looks at your state but trying to be soft for you. Then when you're sleeping he leaves the house to hunt that fucker down and send them to the hospital with all their teeth knocked out and a few broken bones.

Edge:

He sees you and his fists clench by his side as he takes in your battered form. He walks over and gently searches you for any serious wounds assessing how badly you're hurt before leading you to the bathroom to patch you up. He stays calm and level headed but eeriely silent for the most part until he's done bandaging you. Then he inquires about what happened, where, and with who. Once he has all the details he kisses you softly and mutters how he's so glad you're okay before leaving you wrapped up in blankets on the couch with a comfort show and some monster snacks to help you heal. He's gonna rough the guy up then drag him to the police station and force him to confess.

Underswap:

Blue:

Blue's bright smile quickly falls and the quick steps he was taking to you falter as he sees you standing in the doorway. He rushes over a deadly serious look on his face as he looks you over. He gently leads you inside and phones the police as he's getting medical supplies and some monster food. He patches you up the best he can while telling the operator what he knows from what you tell him. The police arrive and interrogate you and Blue stays by your side holding your hand the entire time and comforting you.

Stretch:

He's sitting on the couch when you come in and he calls out over the back of it. When you don't reply he looks over and sees your state sending him into a state of shock. He quickly teleports over and lets you lean against him as he walks you to the couch. He's panicking inside he doesn't really know what to do as the sight of the state your in knocked all common sense out of him. So he calls his brother as he gets medical supplies and monster food. His brother shows up and after seeing the sight of you calls the police which makes Stretch freak out a little more. So he's by you're side clinging to you and trying to reassure you to the best of his ability while you and Blue deal with the Police.

HorrorTale:

Axe:

His eyelight shrinks to the smallest it's been and his hand immediately starts tugging on his empty sockets as he stares at you. It takes him a little bit to process the situation and by that time you're already inside. He's over by your side quickly shoving monster snacks in your hands as he looks over the wounds. He doesn't remember where the bandages are so you have to tell him where and he gets them. Very gently wraps you up acts as if you're porcelain. He sits you in his lap afterwards and cuddles up close starting to purr softly hoping it will help calm you. He asks what happened and listens with intense silence. He writes it down so he doesn't forget but leaves the person as a problem for another day he's more focused on you right now.They may think they got away with it but he won't forget about them not after what they did to you.

Willow:

He sees you and gasps already by your side and scooping you up as gently as he can. He sets you on the couch softly and looks over your wounds. Gets you some leftovers from the dinner made last night for the monster food healing properties and bandages what needs it. He runs his fingers through your hair as he considers his options. He doesn't mention anything to you though as he gently takes care of you babying you throughout the night but makes sure to get as much information as he can out of you. Once you're asleep he writes down everything you said and finds Axe who hadn't seen you yet and mentions the situation before handing over the paper. He's got a small brotherly favor to cash in tonight.

[theweepingangelofcas]

Eat The Rich, Feed Them to the Cats - Moriarty Bros x Reader

Anyone else in the USA having a crisis? Me too! Let's all maladaptive daydream together that our sweet dear Sherlock boys are with us, on our side.

Title is inspired by a fav nonprofit cat shelter of mine, Wonky Hearts Animal Haven. Please go check them out. They have stories that are truly so heartwarming and uplifting, it's a great distraction.

(No, I do not believe all men are bad. I myself have a male fiance whom I love and trust very much. But the election has left me feeling helpless and scared, as though my rights or my body don't matter. I'm writing this to vent. I respect if your political opinions are different than me, but I ask that you do not attack me in the comments, my dm's, etc)

******************

William Moriarty

You two had been together for years now, since you two were teenagers. You've shared everything. Hopes, dreams, ideals... So when he saw someone try to harass you simply because of your gender? That won't do.

"Oi! Pretty broad!"

The random man's words did little to phase you. You didn't even speed up your footsteps. But your dear William stopped in his tracks.

Oh, yes, that's right. No one had ever been stupid enough to cat call you with him around before.

"Y/N..." his gaze had turned to the man, unblinking, "Did you not hear what that man just so crudely yelled at you?"

You shrugged, stopping in your tracks to try and let him catch up to you. He didn't dare move.

"It's nothing, William. Happens all the time to us ladies."

If you didn't know better, you'd say his eye just twitched.

"Is that so? And here I was, thinking it was mostly noblemen who were the rotten part of our society."

He smiled then. Like his mind wasn't 100% alongside you anymore.

His cane left the ground, being weilded in both hands almost like a baseball bat.

Or, more accurately, perhaps he was holding it like a mace.

It was safe to say, no man went within a few dozen meters of you for quite some time after that. After all, you always had your dear William with you now.

Louis Moriarty

Oh, did you think William would be protective?

Ha!

Louis is SO MUCH WORSE

To be completely fair, he was already practically a guard dog for both you and William. You had been engaged to him for a few months, and each passing day he just wanted to spend more time by your side.

This was how he found out how truly awful some men could be.

You two had boarded a train back to Durham, coming back from a lunch date together. You two had managed to score a semi-private spot in the lunch car, meaning that he could hold you without too much fuss from the rest of society. One hand was in yours, the other wrapped around your waist. You had both ordered drinks, his a sophisticated Earl Grey tea, yours a refreshing seltzer water. That was when your waiter came back up to you both.

"Sir, I know this is quite uncouth of me to say, but the gentleman a few seats down won't stop staring at your lady friend there." He gestured to you, specifically your chest, and you seemed to shrink into your seat instantly.

Louis scowled, "Thank you for informing me. You're dismissed, good sir."

The waiter stepped away, and Louis's grip on you got tighter.

"It's fine, darling. You mustn't fret." You tried to comfort him, but his scowl only deepened.

"I will fret." He turned his head, catching eyes with a man a few booths down. He did, indeed, seem to be staring at you. "And I'm going to teach him to respect others, or die trying."

You saw Louis stand, and approach the man in a terrifying calmness. He shook his hand, and gestured for him to follow him.

If you happened to see a person-shaped figure get thrown out of the train that day, no one has to know.

Albert Moriarty

He understands deep, seething rage. He dealt with it much when he was younger. So he understands that the best way to deal with it, is to take care of it yourself.

Normally, women weren't allowed into a prestigious college. But Albert, with his power and wealth, managed to convince the school that having one woman among its ranks wouldn't hurt. Hence, you being halfway through a science and medicine degree. Albert supported you all the way through. Your husband truly was a lovely, understanding man.

"It was fascinating, my love!" Your eyes lit up as you opened your textbook to that day's lesson, "We learned about the chambers of the heart, and all the illnesses and diseases that can correlate to it's health. Isn't that so cool!"

His smile widened at seeing you happy, "It certainly is, my dear. Do go on, teach me more about it."

You nodded, eyes bright, about to keep talking before-

"I'm sure anything is fascinating to a woman. But can she even understand it? Why, she should be at home, not trying to educate herself on something she could never possibly understand."

A man had approached you both. His smug grin was enough to dampen your joy immediately.

Albert blinked, his expression blank, before turning his head back to you, "My dear, would you like my walking stick, or do you want to use your textbook? After all, this fine gentleman seems in need of an anatomy lesson."

Your grin came back, "Your walking stick, please. I'd rather not get my favorite chapter dirty."

The man's eyes flew open as you took the wooden cane from Albert, weilding it more like a weapon than an aid.

"Now," The excitement in your expression was back, "I'll give you an anatomy lesson as I break all of your bones in alphabetical order."

[gxr25256]

The Doorless Cage - Seekers x reader (2)

🌵 Tranformers (Post-Apocalyptic AU).

🌵 The Decepticons have conquered Earth, leaving humanity in ruins.

🌵I'll try this for a bit. Remember: I'm not very good at it 👀.

--------------------------------

Skywarp had always found patrols to be mind-numbingly dull. The ruined city sprawled out before him, a desolate wasteland devoid of life—exactly as they wanted it. They’d swept through this place more times than he could count, tearing down every last sign of resistance, yet still, Megatron insisted they make rounds, “in case anything survived.”

But Skywarp knew better. The humans were all but extinct, their brief, flickering rebellion snuffed out, leaving him, Thundercracker, and Starscream wandering empty streets with only the wind and rubble for company. Thundercracker trudged along somewhere behind him, too lost in thought to complain as he usually did. And Starscream was further ahead, stalking through the ruins with his optics cold and sharp.

Skywarp sighed, glancing down a dark alley, then at a broken tower across the street. His teleportation circuits hummed with potential energy, itching to be used for anything other than walking these streets. Part of him wanted to zap right back to base and tell Thundercracker and Starscream he’d “scouted” the rest of the city, but he knew that would only bring more boredom. And, of course, Starscream would berate him for leaving his post, and Skywarp wasn’t in the mood for another lecture from his second-in-command.

Then, he heard it—a faint, barely-there sound, muffled and distant, but unmistakable.

Human.

It was like catching the scent of prey on the wind, and for a moment, Skywarp’s optics brightened with excitement. He slowed his steps, creeping closer to the sound’s source—a half-fallen building just across the street. A grin spread across his face, and his boredom evaporated. Maybe there was a human left to torment after all. With a bit of luck, he could finally have some fun.

Skywarp stopped just outside the building, letting his heavy footsteps echo against the cracked walls, then pausing as if he were about to enter. He listened for any reaction from inside, and sure enough, he heard a frantic rustling, followed by absolute silence. They knew he was there, and they were hiding.

Perfect.

With exaggerated slowness, he moved a few steps forward, then stopped again, allowing the suspense to build. He could only imagine the terror that must be coursing through the human’s veins, the way they’d be shrinking into the shadows, praying he wouldn’t find them.

But Skywarp was done playing subtle.

With a resounding clang, he struck the wall, letting his servo drive through the structure and tear the roof off with a violent pull. Dust and debris flew into the air, and Skywarp’s optics zeroed in on the small figure crouched below, eyes wide with terror. The human screamed, and he grinned, reveling in the sound.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he drawled, his optics gleaming. He reached down, massive fingers wrapped around the human body with brutal force. He lifted them off the ground, letting them wriggle in his grip as he gave them a rough squeeze, just enough to remind them of their fragility.

The human stilled, frozen in fear, and Skywarp chuckled, drawing them closer until they were at optic level.

“Looks like someone’s been playing hide-and-seek,” he sneered. “Too bad for you—I always win, mouse."

Skywarp’s optic gleamed with cruel delight as he brought the tiny human up to his face, studying them with the kind of mocking curiosity one might show an insect caught in a jar. His grip was loose but deliberate, giving them enough room to wriggle and squirm, knowing that any attempt to break free was hopeless.

He tilted his hand back, causing the human to slip toward the edge of his fingers, a startled gasp escaping them as they scrambled to find a hold. Just as they were about to slip, he flattened his palm, catching them with a satisfied chuckle.

“Aw, did you think you’d fall?” he sneered, lifting them to eye level. He twisted his wrist so they dangled precariously, just far enough from his fingers that they’d have to struggle to keep their balance. The sheer terror in their eyes only amused him further, and he leaned in close, his voice a low, mocking whisper.

“Oh, don’t look so scared. I won't drop you......at least not now." He loosened his grip again, watching with twisted glee as they gripped his metal fingers in desperation, their breaths coming fast and shallow.

Skywarp found himself thoroughly entertained by the way they trembled, the faint spark of defiance in their eyes already waning as he continued his taunts. He nudged them with his thumb, pressing them back against his palm, ignoring their gasp of pain as he applied a bit more pressure.

As he toyed with his new prize, he heard familiar footsteps approaching from behind. He glanced over his shoulder, just as Starscream and Thundercracker appeared around the corner.

“What are you doing, Skywarp?” Starscream’s voice was dripping with annoyance as he stalked up to them. His red optics narrowed, taking in the sight of the human in Skywarp’s grip. “I thought we were on patrol, not indulging your ridiculous whims.”

Skywarp merely smirked, holding up the human for them to see. “Oh, lighten up, Starscream. Look what I found—a little survivor. Thought we’d gotten rid of all of them, but I guess there’s still a few stragglers.”

Starscream’s gaze shifted to the trembling human,his face wrinkled. He lifted his arm, aiming his null ray at them. “Then let’s finish the job. I don’t have time for your games.”

Skywarp rolled his optics, drawing the human back just out of range of Starscream’s weapon. “Where’s the fun in that? The city’s already dead, so what’s one little human running around? Think of it as entertainment. It’ll give us something to do.”

Starscream scoffed, crossing his arms. “An amusement? It’s a disgusting organic.”

Skywarp shrugged, his grip tightening on the human to keep them still. “Maybe, but it's better than walking around looking for nothing. Besides, it’s got a decent scream.”

Thundercracker sighed, casting a skeptical glance at the human. “Megatron’s not gonna be happy if he finds out we’re keeping a pet. Besides, I thought you hated organics.”

“Eh, this one’s different,” Skywarp glancing back at the human, who was clinging to his fingers, staring at him with a mixture of horror and disbelief. “I mean, look at them. They’re pathetic. If they try anything, I can just…squeeze.” He gave the human a light, taunting squeeze, chuckling as their face paled.

“Besides, if they become a problem, we can always crush them later. But for now, let’s see if they can last. It’ll be like…a game.” Skywarp added, a gleam of mischief in his optics.

Thundercracker’s optics narrowed, clearly unimpressed by Skywarp’s twisted idea of amusement. “A game?” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re playing with scraps from a dead world.” His voice held a hint of disdain, but under it lay a reluctant curiosity. “It’s just going to run, hide, and scream.”

Skywarp shrugged, still grinning as he dangled the human, watching them squirm. “Exactly! That’s what makes it fun, Thundercracker. It’s like… a pet with spirit,” he taunted, giving the human another playful shake. “Or at least, until they break. They’ve got nothing left to lose, right?” He tilted his head, eyeing the human’s wide, terrified eyes with twisted fascination. “Why not see how long they’ll last?”

Starscream rolled his optics. “Skywarp, if you’re this bored, maybe I should assign you extra patrols.” He sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm

"Hey!"

“But since you insist on this ridiculous game, I suppose it could be… mildly interesting to see just how long this one lasts.” He shot a disdainful look at the human. “Seeing it fall apart was quite a sight to behold.”

Thundercracker snorted “Since when did you get interested in playing with organic matter?” he muttered, though he didn’t move to stop Skywarp. “They’re just a reminder of what this place used to be—a waste.”

Starscream huffed, optics narrowing as he scoffed at Thundercracker's objections. "Shut up! I never did." He replied. In a moment of consideration, he spoke up. "And is that a waste? Think of it as… a way to pass the time. After all, the planet’s dead. Might as well use the leftovers.”

Thundercracker sighed, looking away. “Fine, but don’t expect me to take part in this.” But there was still a glimmer of curiosity in his optics—if unwilling to admit it—to see how long this human might survive under their “care.”

Skywarp chuckled, clearly pleased with his trinemates’ grudging acceptance. “See? It’ll be good for morale.” He leaned closer to the human, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “Congratulations—you get to stay alive… for now. Better keep us entertained, though, or we’ll get bored.”

“Let’s go,” Starscream ordered, turning to walk ahead. “If we linger, Megatron will think we’re slacking off.”

As the three Seekers turned to leave, the human still firmly in Skywarp’s grip, Starscream’s voice cut through the quiet. “Remember, Skywarp: this is your little ‘pet.’ If they become a nuisance, it’s on you to clean up the mess.” But his smirk revealed that he, too, was already looking forward to the twisted amusement their new “pet” might bring.

--------------------------------

Skywarp is fun, right?

"I can just…squeeze." 🤫

[twiixr4kidz]

had a specific vision of giving the members of la squadra hugs......... have me being sappy over my boys

shoutout to those of you who followed during my naranchuu days when i was just a jjba blog LMAO (when my requests open back up please send me jojo asks i miss writing for jjba) (also assume that sorbet and gelato are still together in this i just wrote them seperately for the sake of giving them personalities outside of each other)

risotto nero:

a hug from the capo is a special thing to get.

they're suffocating in the best way from just how tall and strong he is

he'll let you bury your face into his chest as his fingers run through your hair

he always smells so comforting; he smells like home

some of his hugs will be coupled with a kiss on the forehead

others will be coupled with a "you're alright, i've got you"

prosciutto:

he says he's not a hugger, but the fact that he indulges so often says otherwise

prosciu's hugs are tender; so impossibly calming, you could melt in his arms

he keeps a hand resting on your lower back, the other running through your hair

he smells like fancy wine, expensive cologne, and cigarettes

he rocks you back and forth, telling you how much he loves you and appreciates you

pesci:

although nervous about them, he's such a huge hugger

he's big, warm, and so fucking cozy

pesci truly gives some of the best hugs imaginable

he hugs you to make sure you know you're safe with him; he'd never let anything bad happen to you, and if something bad DID happen, he'd make sure it'll never happen again

his fuzzy coat is just a plus!! take advantage of it and nuzzle your face into it, he thinks it's adorable

formaggio:

he's a big hugger, and all of his hugs feel almost playful

he likes to jump out at you and tackle you to the floor, peppering your face with kisses as he tickles your sides

formaggio hugs you a lot for his own comfort

he likes to shrink you down when he hugs you - it's like he's trying to swallow you whole

he's always so warm and cozy, and you if you aren't standing up, you'll be able to fall asleep on him

illuso:

believe it or not, he's shockingly clingy.

yes, he's a giant, cocky asshole who thinks he's better than everybody else. no, he can't get enough of your touch. those concepts can coexist...................

he likes to pop out from behind dark corners and wrap his arms around you tightly

illuso will bury his face in your hair, mumbling what you can only assume are compliments that he's too embarrassed to say out loud

his hands press tight against your sides, thumbs rubbing small circles on your waist

melone:

he gives some of the most comforting, genuine feeling hugs

sure, he might seem a little creepy on the outside, but he can read you like a book

he'll come up from behind you and wrap his arms lazily around your neck

"come here, tesoro. i know you need it."

and he's right damn near every time

sometimes he'll give you a gentle kiss on the cheek before wandering elsewhere

other times, he'll drag you to the couch and force you to cuddle with him

ghiaccio:

he's not good at hugs; he gets nervous and then he stiffens up and freezes

ghiaccio gives you the biggest hugs when you come back home from rough missions, though

his arms wrap around you tightly, face buried in your neck as angry worries pour from his lips - he thought you were a goner

he's scared that you're going to disappear on him, but hugging you makes him feel better

he's nice to hug in the summer months when the heat's getting to you

he's always nice and chilly and if it's you asking, he's happy to oblige (but he'll never say it)

sorbet:

similar to risotto, sorbet's hugs feel like he's suffocating you

he's built like a fucking wall; tall, broad shoulders, wide chest, very muscular

his hugs are few and far between, but he always hugs you like he's trying to kill you

he likes when you're giggling over being stuck in his arms, playfully scratching him and begging him to let go

he gives you a tight squeeze before letting you go, ruffling your hair before wandering off

gelato:

he gives some of the most playful, gentle, warm hugs you could ask for - ironic for such a cold-hearted killer

he likes picking you up and spinning you around before pulling you into his chest

he'll tickle you side with one hand while the other arm stays wrapped around your body so you can't escape his torture

he also likes to bite :3 every hug comes with a little nip on your neck just to hear your squeal

he drags you to cuddle with him after every hug though - you're just sooooo cute and cozy, he can't help it

[itwdoris]

★

you sit in front of toji with your legs crossed just as he taught you, relaxing your shoulders and posture as you gradually wilt a little sad and dozy. that drink had got the better of you the night before, and now your hangover was about to make you pass away.

but not while he was there.

fushiguro stirred the small bowl of soup to feed you, watching you almost salivate with hunger, the night had been complicated because he had to make you vomit, and consequently you had become weak, with the weakness and nausea all night he was constantly on the lookout for you. and wasn't a burden, cuz he knew how worried you were, but he never bothered to take care of you, he liked that. that's why he was right there helping you eat.

he was calm, but he had his own methods. putting the spoon in your mouth only after making sure with his fingers that it was empty and you had already swallowed, helping you chew when you take too long, you ate that whole bowl without even realizing it.

toji left the bowl to the side and leaned over to pull you up, as gently as he could, laying you on his chest and stroking your hair, he could feel your hand wrapping around his thumb, and he thought it was cute how different the sizes were, there were slight circles under his eyes and his chest rose and fell slightly, very comfortable. you quickly tucked yourself in, taking a few deep breaths to try and relax after eating, soon you would feel a familiar vibration and would be greeted by the ambient sound of toji's snores.

but for the moment they were just there, next to each other, you could feel his face against your head, the kisses he sometimes left, the way he squeezed your hand around his finger, the caresses in your hair. if you need to throw up, just don't do it on the sofa. he muttered. and if you want something, wake me up.

you nodded, shrinking a little into his strong chest, but then the hand that was in your hair went down to your hip, holding it a little firmly, telling you that it was all okay. if you have a bad headache, call me too. he squeezed you. just talk to me, i'm here.

he relaxed as soon as he saw you calmer, so it didn't take long for him to fall into a good sleep, and a few snores later you too, who already felt much better than before, with a full belly, comfortable. one characteristic was that you moved a little, but toji rarely did, almost motionless, moving only to grab or pull you, or just to change position a little, yet he never woke up sore or anything like that, he was too tough.

but in fact there was something not so resistant about him, not bad, kind of fun, because his bladder couldn't hold it for long, and when i say that, i mean almost no time at all. used to going whenever he felt like it, he had never trained his body for this single service, which turned out to be an interesting discovery in the midst of sex once. and he drank a lot, whatever it was, like the night before he accompanied you with all those bottles, making you jealous because he didn't suffer from any nausea, and still took care of you.

fushiguro held you tighter against him, breathing kinda loudly through his snores, more like a sigh, making you open your eyes slightly and and stir to find a more comfortable position on his chest. then he moved a little, sighing again, this time making you open your eyes and look at him, raising his head and lowering it again after everything seemed normal. you could feel the pressure against his body making your bladder stand at attention, but apparently not just yours.

in addition to the sighs, light movements and firm squeezes making you stay there, his cock was rising slightly, full and ready to leak. toji hadn't been to the bathroom since last night, his bladder was full, full.

maybe you could get out of there and let him go, maybe he could take action himself, but he didn't want to. he was so so relaxed there on that sofa with you not right on top of him, resting on his chest after being sick, with your smelly hair that he washed against his nose, being held by his arms that seemed to fit you perfectly.

he didn't want to leave.

you called out to him quietly, raising your face again and squeezing his blouse, he knew he was starting to leak against you, you felt the wetness against you, gradually increasing, as did the stain in the middle of his boxers. warm, making a low noise as the flow increased, toji sighed with relief, spreading his legs wider and sinking deeper into his chest – if that was possible, his hand sunk into your hair almost in a grip. c'mon, quietly...

with his eyes still closed, he ran his free hand down your body until he reached your ass, caressing it, crawling lower and leaving a pat on your covered folds. you whimpered, with strong arms holding you and his nose now against your forehead, lips occupied with soothing whispers and soft kisses, his fingers curled into the fabric, slipping inside to rub your folds, with all the attention to find your piss hole, to rub and tease it, and he got what he wanted.

making you whimper and whimper as he presses you against him, as his finger presses you down there, still wetting you and everything, you couldn't take much, wimp. hearing him soothe you as you began to leak against his finger, panties dripping over his boxers, the growing flow joining his, your face turning red, getting wet together.

toji knew they were making a mess, but it was so good.

it actually started out as just an ordinary draft, then i wanted to implement the piss prompt because thought it would be cool, anyway, hope you like it — thanks to tigeri anon <3

also kinda dada toji vibes cos i miss him

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Shelter from the Storm

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: past weather/storm trauma, tornadoes (nothing wild, there just is one kind of nearby), established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff for days Word Count: 0.9k

Summary: There are tornado warnings, and you're terrified. Emily comes home and helps make it better.

You knew what the sirens meant. You’d known since you were a little girl, huddled in a closet with blankets and pillows and your mom’s arms wrapped around you. Since your dad at the storm door, clothes flapping in the wind, while your mom screamed, “Get in here! It’s coming!” You associated the sirens with the scent of fear, the sound of trains, with homes leveled to the ground–every home on the street but yours.

Heart beating rapidly, you dashed into the bathroom, throwing a quilt and blankets into the empty tub. The power flickered off, leaving you in complete darkness. You felt panic rising in your lungs, but sprinted to the bedroom to scoop up Sergio, who was hiding under the nightstand. You slammed the bathroom door shut, sat in the tub, and placed Sergio next to you, where he curled into one of the pillows. Shaking, you covered yourself with the quilt and placed a pillow over your head. You knew what to do. But you also knew that if the tornado really did hit you, none of it would matter anyway.

You weren’t a praying person, but you hoped with everything in you that Emily had made it to Quantico before the storms had gotten this bad. Or, even better, that the pilot had delayed their flight and avoided it altogether. You’d left your phone in the other room, so you couldn’t check, and you weren’t about to leave the bathtub safety cocoon you’d created.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there in the dark, your breath heavy and desperate and hot underneath the quilt and the pillows. You could still hear the claps of thunder, so powerful they shook the building. You could see the blue-white of lightning underneath the door. So you stayed hidden, uncovering your face every few minutes to take in greedy gasps of breath, each one only making your anxiety grow. Your fists were clenched so hard that there were little half-moons forming in your palms. You were exceedingly thankful for Sergio’s warm body pressed against yours.

You yelped when you heard a knock on the bathroom door, peeking an eye out from under the quilt to see Emily walk in and kneel in front of the tub, her face illuminated by a candle she set on the counter. You were equal parts relieved and infuriated.

“How you doing, honey?” she asked gently, pushing the quilt off of your head to reveal a very red, tear-stained face.

“Did you drive here in this!?” Your voice wasn’t nearly as authoritative as you wanted it to be. Really, you just sounded scared. You were shaky and weak from anxiety. “There are tornadoes, Em!”

“It’s just stormy now,” she reassured you, running her thumb along your eyebrow as she cupped your face. “No more tornadoes. I didn’t drive until I was sure they were over.”

“There could be more.” Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Well, why don’t we wait in bed instead of in the bathtub? Since the tornado warning’s over for now.”

A large boom of thunder shook the house and you gasped, shrinking back into the quilts and pillows.

“Come on, honey,” Emily said, taking your hand and gently pulling you to your feet. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

You let Emily guide you to the bedroom, where she’d shut the blackout curtains so you couldn’t see the lightning. There were several candles lit across the room, bathing it in a warm glow. It’d be romantic if you weren’t terrified.

Emily was so soft with you, so gentle as she removed your glasses and set them on your nightstand. Gentle as she pulled the covers up over your shoulders. Gentle as she climbed into bed next to you and pulled you into her chest, covering your ears with her hands when you jumped at another peal of thunder.

“Shh,” she said over and over again, her breath warm and comforting against your forehead. “It’s okay. I know it’s scary, but you’re okay. I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You felt your heart rate slow down, the air return to your lungs in big, painful gulps. Adrenaline seeped out of you as if through a sieve, leaving you spent and exhausted.

Emily watched as you struggled to keep your eyelids open and smiled softly. If you could just go to sleep, you’d be fine. She ran a finger slowly across your brow bone and down the bridge of your nose, over and over, knowing it was impossible for you to keep your eyes open when she did.

“Are you trying to put me to sleep?” you accused, eyelids fluttering.

“Mmhm.”

“What if there’s another tornado?” you protested, but she could tell you were losing the fight.

“I’ve got the volume on the alerts turned all the way up, okay? I promise I will wake you up if I need to. Just go to sleep, honey. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Her heart swelled as she watched you fight sleep and lose. Your chest rose and fell rhythmically, and she felt an aching, almost desperate love for the way your body curled toward hers, for your now limp hand that was wrapped around hers and held close to your face, so close she could feel your breathing.

She adjusted the covers once more, making sure you’d be warm but not smothered, then wrapped an arm protectively around you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. The weather channel, Emily knew, had all but promised that the threat of tornadoes would be minimal for the rest of the night. But she also knew that if one happened to spring up, if it happened to come your way, if it happened to rip the roof off your house, to plow its way through your room, that she would not hesitate to cover your body with hers.

[glowinggator]

Hello :3 Could you do either headcannons or oneshot for sleeping with Mordecai Heller?? No smut, just like literally sharing a bed lol. Love your writing!!

Thank you so much!! I ended up combining this with a few other requests on some cuddling headcanons, so do let me know if you'd like any follow-ups to this! I like to imagine he's got a whole unbreakable routine.

Pairing: Mordecai Heller/Reader

How do you cuddle with Mordecai Heller? Simple. You don’t.

Well, that isn’t entirely true. But it’s what you tell everyone — he has a reputation to uphold, after all. And it’s much easier than defining what “cuddling” means for the two of you.

Like with many aspects of your relationship with Mordecai, cuddling came little by little. He’s not keen on touch, even in the best of scenarios. Most days, being touched just feels like a million concentrated pinpricks. It’s almost painful sometimes, the way unwanted hands sear into his skin and imprint themselves on his nerves. Not to mention all the germs people have. Eugh.

You knew he was touch averse long before you ever started dating — you’ve seen the way he leans away from others when they go in for hugs, or the way he grimaces during pat-downs on jobs. It’s such an intrinsic part of him that you never expected it to change, and you’re okay with that.

But sometimes, he surprises you.

There’s little gestures that he does (after a considerable amount of self-talk, not that he’d ever tell you that) that truly make your heart melt.

Working up to sleeping in the same bed was an adventure all on its own. It’s quite the milestone of trust for him, with a weight that’s just a stone’s throw away from an outright proposal. This man has spent most of his life in the center of danger’s crosshairs, so to trust you enough to let down his walls… well, you get the idea.

He always falls asleep after you do. He sleeps on his side, facing the door, with a foot of space between you — no more, no less. He counts your breaths as you drift into sleep, and memorizes the way your body heat seeps through into his own. He commits your very presence to memory, and it quickly becomes difficult— no, impossible — to sleep when you’re not by his side. He likes to say it’s because his routine is broken, but you both know that’s a lie.

His fur is soft — that’s the first thing you think to yourself when Mordecai brushes his tail against your own one night. You hold your breath, waiting for him to pull back, like it was some sort of mistake… but he doesn’t. There’s no hiss, no flinch or startle… just peace. Calm. Your lips pull back in a soft smile as you bask in the moment, enjoying every second that you’re connected. You dare not say anything, afraid that if you did he’d overthink the moment, or shrink back from the intensity of his emotions. But he never pulls away, not until the sun is shining through your curtains and begging the two of you to rise.

From then on, that too becomes part of your shared routine.

And little by little, it grows.

It starts as a brush… and then intertwining. Then he does it while you read together in bed… and then on the couch.

When it’s you, touch can be… pleasant. It’s an unusual feeling, foreign, but not a bad one.

Little incidences like that slowly become more and more frequent. More openly devout in their meaning, their intensity. He never thought he’d feel this safe with anyone ever again, and it’s almost scary how deep his love runs for you.

Some days are better than others, of course. It’s never your fault, never. Sometimes he truly just cannot handle the sensation of it all. You like to joke with him a little when he puts his hands up as a ward.

Can’t have you getting too soft on me, you jest, I know, I’m addictive.

And of course he sputters, because he is not getting soft (yet another lie) but at the end of the day, he knows you won’t push him. He trusts you.

But you can always count on that last step of your routine. Every night at 10:30pm his tail wraps around yours, like clockwork. Stress melts into weightless peace in an instant, with the world as little more than a memory outside of the walls of your shared apartment. Some lovers parade their joy around in the streets under the light of day, thriving in the attention that their unity provides. But you and Mordecai belong to the night, wrapped up in quiet, intimate eternity. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

september 25, 2021 6:50 p.m. myshuno restaurant

why are you surprised?

grant fixates his gaze far away from his father’s fiancee, suddenly shrinking into himself when he realizes what her appearance means. she intends to talk. she’d walked him right over to the nearest bench–why else would she do that? and grant wishes he hadn’t agreed. he wishes he weren’t so brave now. he wishes he’d left faster, pretended he was in a rush, something of the sort.

you should have avoided this. all of this. this was a terrible–

the gentlest of prods at his shoulder stirs him from his racing thoughts.

“sorry. i'm still space-casing it.” grant shudders; she must have already asked him something.

if she’s bothered by his inattention, varpu doesn’t show it. instead, she smiles. not joyfully, though–it’s a thin-lipped smile that he can only describe as one of abject pity.

“i wanted to know if you were okay,” she repeats, “and no, i think i owe you an apology instead.”

“oh, i'm fine. and really, you don't.”

you are not fine.

fine doesn’t match the nagging ache in the core of his chest.

why are you upset anyway? why the fuck are you surprised? you knew all of this was coming. you knew he’d always–you didn’t. no, you bought it. you believed it somehow, in some way when he preached about being a better father.

“you are not a very good liar,” comes varpu’s retort. the pitying smile is still plastered on her face, though it slips more and more by the second, slowly replaced by an unreadable albeit piercing expression.

“it’s genetic.”

and you knew he was never going to stay. you even gave him your express permission.

and yet…

somewhere in the back of grant’s mind, a much younger version of himself–the child who experienced the worst abandonment life has to offer–is crawling out of the woodwork and screaming for attention, screaming so loud that he can think of nothing but that child’s agony. bad memory after bad memory floods grant’s remaining bandwidth. he’d barely shut them out at the table, only for them to resurface in a tidal wave the very moment he let his guard down.

“yeah, actually, you know, i don’t think i'd probably use the word fine right now, no.”

varpu knew that, of course. not an ounce of bewilderment dwells in her response. “i'm not sure i understood what happened in there, but nonetheless, i do owe you an apology. i'm sorry. it was my idea to invite you, and that doesn’t seem to have been good for you.”

“it’s not your fault.”

“i fear that it is,” she replies, and at last, it’s her turn to avert her gaze–she turns to face the alleyway on their right “it was also at my insistence that he reached out to you last year. i don’t think that was good for you either.”

“maybe, maybe not. i wouldn’t hold my dad being my dad against you, though. i appreciate that you’ve tried to do the right thing. you’ve been much kinder to the estranged son of your college sweetheart than i'd really have ever expected, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.”

varpu, underdressed for the weather without her coat, shivers as a cold autumn breeze whips by them. she turns back towards him, wrapping her arms close to her chest, and just shakes her head. “why wouldn’t you expect that i'd be kind to you? i'm a mother. it’s my responsibility to treat you like i treated my own children.”

“you can probably guess why i don’t expect that.”

“i didn’t want you to feel left out,” varpu muses, now nervously picking at her dress sleeves, “that’s why i invited you tonight. you have a complicated relationship with your father, and him remarrying and having another family must be uncomfortable for you, but i wanted you to know you would be a part of our lives, that you do have a place with us.”

“no, i very much get that from you. i can tell you care about including me.” grant winces. “my dad, your kids...not so much.”

“i only found out he hadn’t invited you to help with wedding plans or told you about the move this morning–he said he had, and i believed him, which was, as i see now, very silly of me. and my children,” varpu says, letting out a deep sigh, “i should have made you aware that they’re apprehensive about you. it’s not you, it’s…”

“no, it’s definitely me.”

varpu shuts him down. “it isn’t you. they have a good relationship with your father, and they’re very attached to him. they spent most of their lives without a father in their lives, my first husband passed away a long time ago, and having someone to be in that role now is…”

“a big deal. of course. if i were in their shoes, i might feel the same way about him. also, my condolences. i didn’t know that about, um, you know, you, but yeah, i'm sorry you had to go through that. that's terrible. and that makes sense. i mean, as in why your kids would probably not trust me. they don’t, right? you can be honest. it has to be a little bit about me. they don’t trust someone who doesn’t like my dad the way they do.”

“yes. i should have told you that, and i think i should have been much clearer about your relationship with your father to them. it was also very silly for me to think they'd change their minds before you noticed there was any distrust.”

“how much do you know about our relationship?”

she shrugs. “that it's complicated, that he let your mother abuse you. he didn’t lie to me about that. no, in fact, he was very forthcoming about his life since we last spoke years ago. at least i thought he was. i'm a little skeptical now, looking back and having realized he wasn’t being honest with you. if he lies to you, he very well may lie to me.”

“it makes me a little mad to know he’s just, like, chill with someone else’s kids.” the ache in grant’s chest flares with the heat of a billion suns. anger–the ache is anger, the purest he’s felt in years. “sorry. dick thing for me to say. and think. it’s horrible that a part of me wants him to be a piece of shit like he was to me with everyone else, right? no, i don’t really want that. you and your kids don’t deserve that, it’s just–”

“it stings.”

he almost laughs. “it’s so fucked. he can move on, have a new family, like a family he cares about, a family he does stuff with, a family he talks to about important topics, a family he’ll move for, a family he’ll fight for, a family he respects, and–” and again, too, the anger flares. “and he can just abandon me with no qualms. i was always nothing to him. jesus christ, none of my siblings were either. one’s dead, one’s still estranged, and he doesn’t even think about them.”

“the unfortunate thing is i think he doesn’t want to abandon you.”

“now that i have to argue with you on. he's done it before, so he's very likely doing it right now, too.”

the pitying smile returns to varpu’s face. “as far i know, as of this morning, he doesn’t believe you’ll ever forgive him or trust him. he feels rejected by you, and he's reacting to that feeling. i think. i can no longer prove he was telling me the truth about this, but..."

“oh, he feels rejected? fantastic, maybe he finally gets how i feel then. rejection fucking blows, doesn't it? also, that’s just ridiculous. i don't know how he can claim that. i came to meet him last year, i met him earlier this year, i let him meet my ex-fiancee, i took his phone calls, and i showed up tonight. he’s even admitted before i'm putting effort in. where the fuck is this rejection claim coming from? is it because i'm not falling over myself to kiss the ground he walks on?"

“i've truly disrupted your life by encouraging him to talk to you. i'm sorry.”

grant shrugs. “it’s okay. you were very positive in assuming things were salvageable, but he’s always going to be the same piece of shit to me at the end of the day, and i'm always going to be bitter and refuse to forgive him. i think we’d only be on the same page if i just rolled over like i used to."

“why did you try to reconnect, though? why agree?”

“fuck, i have no idea. it’s ultimately my fault for saying yes.”

why did you?

nothing comes to mind. nothing in particular. only the vaguest list of shitty excuses, the same ones he’s thrown at family members time and time again trying to justify his perennial need to prove the people who hurt him love him, actually.

he no longer wants to roll over like a coward, but–

“simple enough, i guess i want to hope he loves me.”

“what does that look like to you?”

his first response, once more, is to shrug helplessly. “i don’t know. i can’t say he didn’t try at all. he tried to apologize, tried to talk things out, tried to include me. even if he was lying about it or faking to win me over...well, i still bought that he was trying, but it never pleased me. it never felt like enough. god, this all, like, sounds insane, doesn’t it? i'm having this whole meltdown over one night.”

“but it’s not about one night, is it?”

grant’s breach catches in his throat. it’s not, not at all. the unruly child screaming in his head is showing him a pile of evidence, thirty years worth.

“no.”

“and it’s not salvageable, is it?” varpu asks next.

if his father ran outside right now and proclaimed with his soul his love, would it satisfy him? would it cure the ache in his chest, soothe the raging child in his head, turn his bitterness into saccharine peace?

he dwells on it for only a moment before an earth-rending realization dawns on him, and for once in his life, the answer is clear as day.

“no. there’s…” grant stops himself, peering up at the sky. “there is nothing he could do to fix this. i don’t think i want him to love me. i want for what happened to me to have never happened, but time traveling to the past inherently violates the second law of thermodynamics, so that’s unfortunately impossible.”

“i suspect you don’t need my advice, but you shouldn’t be afraid to act on that. your father is a grown man. he can continue to live with the consequences of his actions. you live with them, so can he.”

“that’s very true. uh, and yeah, i think i have to. again, that is. i have to tell him to fuck off again. i'll give it a few days, but yeah.”

varpu stays quiet, acknowledging him with an encouraging nod.

“so, i'll be completely honest with you..." grant trails off.

"please do."

"i doubt i will ever see you again after tonight, but it’s not personal. i just want to make that clear, in case it matters. i do mean it when i say your kindness is appreciated. i care that you care, and you’ve been nicer than my own parents did somehow. thank you."

"you're welcome seems a terribly inadequate response, but..."

"you're welcome is fine. best of luck with the wedding and the house search. regardless of how i feel about my father or the fact he has a new family, i don’t wish any harm your way. if you want to build a life with him, have at it. i know what i said earlier is not in line with what i'm saying now, but i hope the future is good to you specifically, and i hope it’s not disappointing i don’t want to be a part of it.”

[bunni-v1]

Cureé

Chapter 5: Deal Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Tw: None (I think!)

Info: Vil and Reader; Riddle Rosehearts x Reader; Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Word Count: 7.4k Words

🍓Unfortunatelyyyyyyyy this chapter had to be split into two! It was getting too long and I knew I had to cut it in half. The second part WILL be shorter I promise! Anyway, this one was a lot of fun to write, and we're starting to get into the meat of everything here! Hope you all enjoy <3

Taglist: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing @roseinbloom02 @savanaclaw1996 (Lmk if you want to be added)

“This may be the worst thing I’ve ever worn…” you grumble, glaring at the too-fluffy purple fabric of your skirt. The sleeves were a poofy nightmare, flaring out from the top with slits down the center for better arm movement, and to show off your pretty silk gloves. The corset wrapped around your waist did you no favors, only restricting your movements and making it harder to breathe. The only thing the dress did not cover was your chest, draped in the finest jewels your handmaids could find. It likely didn’t help that you had an extra layer of hunting clothes beneath the whole ensemble.

“It’s not that bad…” Deuce tries to soothe, smoothing over the skirt.

It was a very pretty dress but… You felt a bit ridiculous in the wretched thing. Ballgowns were never your favorite, while your brother adored them more than anything. He could pull them off though, looking like a goddess and floating across the floor like a ghost. You… you looked like… well…

“You look like a purple cream puff,” Ace says, better than anyone else could.

“I know,” you whine, “I begged for something more… modest, but appearances and such.”

“You look pretty,” Deuce tries again, and you focus your glare in the mirror on him, which makes him shrink back a bit.

“You do look nice,” Ace jumps in, “just not…”

“Yourself,” Deuce finishes for him, smile awkward and nervous as always.

You sigh, fiddling with the pretty silken gloves. You did not like silk gloves, you always struggled to grab silverware with them on, but they were pretty. They made you feel pretty, despite your favor for leather hunters gloves. 

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Ace slings his arm around your shoulder, waving his hand through the air and looking off into the distance. You follow his gaze, though you know you both looked incredibly stupid, “that hunter guy is gonna lose his mind when he sees you all dressed up.”

You roll your eyes. You told Ace and Deuce about your interesting beau shortly after he had left your room, and the two of them had not allowed you to live it down since. You fix your glare up at Ace now, arms crossing petulantly over your chest. While the idea of Rook enjoying your outfit made butterfly wings tickle your stomach, you did not like being teased about it. In retaliation, you poke him hard in his ribs. He whines and gives you space to breathe.

“Don’t make me think about him,” you sigh, “it’ll make this dinner all the more dreadful.”

“At least you’re sitting near Riddle?” Deuce asks hopefully, an encouraging smile gracing his features. You find his smile to be quite knightly, and the nervous part of your brain is assured by it. If only a little.

“At least I have that,” you laugh lightly, giving yourself one last look over in the mirror before the door to your room cracked open, familiar blue eyes sparkling at you.

“It’s time to make your appearance, Your Majesty,” Epel said playfully, practically jittering in excitement.

You let out a noise between a squeak of surprise and an exclamation of joy, then throw yourself into his arms. He spins you around a few times, laughing, then plants you on the ground and straightens any fabric or hair that might’ve fallen out of place. Seeing Epel was quite the pick me up, especially since you hadn’t seen him since those few nights ago.

“You are my escort?” You exclaim, unable to stay still as you bounce up and down happily.

“The Queen specifically requested I be the one to escort you,” he confirms, smiling bright as the sun, “though… I’m unsure why he changed his tune about everything that happened.”

“That’s not something to worry about,” you dismiss, though you are confident your little… argument with your brother was the most likely cause, “I’m just happy to see you again.”

His smile softens into something more gentle, intimate, and knowing. You missed the kind way he looked at you. Like you were his family and he yours. Before you both can get too lost in catching up a throat clears behind you. Ah, yes. Ace and Deuce were here.

“Who’s this?” Ace asks chest puffed out. Was he… sizing Epel up? The idea is so funny that you laugh a little without meaning to.

“Ah, Ace and Deuce, this is my best friend since childhood, Epel,” You turn to Epel, who also seems to be sizing the two men up, “Epel, these are my temporary guards and dearest companions from the Rosedom, Ace and Deuce.”

“You’ve been taking good care of them?” Epel asks sharply.

“Great care,” Ace retorts, just as sharp.

“The best, even,” Deuce remarks as well.

Before the three of them can get into a verbal game of proving who you do or do not like more, you wave your hands in the air and insist that you must not be late for dinner. Your brother’s wrath would be unpleasant to face, especially after having made a big deal of promising to be on time. So, reluctantly, the three men back down and guide you carefully through the busy halls bustling with castle staff ensuring everything was perfect for the day.

When you finally reach the (frankly, too) large doors of the dining room, Epel stops you. Introductions, of course, you are sure all the suitors (actually just your brother, and maybe Kalim) are waiting with bated breath to see you. Hah, the thought is funny. No one really wants to be here, and you know that for a fact.

Epel announces your arrival, the doors open, and you put a pleasant smile on your face. Perform perfectly, and it’ll all be over in no time, you remind yourself. Your brother stands at the end of the table, though he does not make direct eye contact with you the whole time you are walking to your seat. You are to be positioned opposite of him, and as promised, Riddle is standing in the spot next to you. Unfortunately for you, Leona is positioned on the other side of you, and you try not to frown when you realize this.

Next to Leona is, surprisingly, Azul Ashengrotto, who you did not expect to see tonight. He was not exactly someone you imagine your brother being willing to negotiate with, especially not when you are in question… but you have been learning quite a bit about your brother you suppose. Kalim sat next to Riddle, giving you a little wave when you made eye contact. You do not grin, though you wish to do so. Kalim was such a sweetheart, especially to you, even before any marriage was in question.

Idia, whom you had forgotten was even an option for you, was sitting on your brother's left next to Kalim. He looked as though he might burst out crying when you looked at him, so you swiftly moved your eyes to the final suitor. Malleus Draconia, as elegant and handsome as always, which causes a nagging part of your brain to roll its eyes (though you do not). He gives you a confident smile, and you have to resist the urge to vomit. His ever-scary retainer was standing near the edge of the room by the guards after all, you did not want to feel his gaze on you ever again after that one night.

When you position yourself in front of your seat, you finally lock eyes with your brother. He is beautiful as always, as expected. There is a lingering sadness in his face, a stress that you had not seen since your parents had passed. You hate the way satisfaction grows in your belly at the thought that you had caused it. Resentment was an ugly beast.

Vil clears his throat, and a kind, gentle, fake smile comes across his lips. “Welcome all to dinner, we are delighted to have your company on this fine evening. More than that, I am pleased that all of you are interested in trying for my dearly beloved siblings' hand in marriage. This dinner, so to speak, will mark the beginning of the ahem competition for her affections. Do try your best.”

The air around you becomes tense at his words, even though your brother continues to speak, and you don’t believe it’s solely because of your distaste for the idea. There is a real drive in (some of) these men to prove themselves to you. They all have stakes in this ‘friendly’ competition for your hand — well, more like their kingdoms do. While each of them has little personal gain, their people would greatly benefit from a marriage between their kingdom and the most powerful human royal line in the current times.

You are a prize to be won, as much as you do not want to be, and it makes your stomach turn. You are so discomforted with the feeling, that you spend the rest of your brothers pleasantries ignoring his words and trying to calm yourself. You only tune back in when everyone sits and food is brought out.

You fiddle with your silken gloves, nerves shot. You hated feeling like prey. You were not a deer in the forest, you were the hunter. So why did you feel like you were stripped of that pride? Why did you feel the burn of seven eyes on you? Lost in your mind, you nearly spiral, until a gentle tap comes from your right side, and an awkward smile from the prettiest cupid bowed lips your eyes had ever seen pulls you from your stresses. Riddle’s gray eyes are strangely… understanding as he quietly asks “Are you okay?” You nod, and he relaxes just a bit.

Some of your suitors have already begun to engage each other in conversation, and you realize you must’ve been quiet and unmoving for a significant amount of time. Your face heats at the idea. You do not feel yourself right now, thank goodness for Riddle’s uncharacteristic kindness.

He seems to notice, again, that you are floundering and decides to converse with you. You think he may be an angel sent by the seven to save you from your idiocy.

“Trey gave me those tarts you made last week,” he begins, “they were delightful. Raspberry is surprisingly delicious.”

You are pleasantly surprised to find that Riddle was the recipient of your leftover treats. He didn’t strike you as the sweet kind, but perhaps that was because you only knew him to be sour. Was Trey trying to get you some bonus points with him? Or maybe it was him with you. Regardless of Trey’s intentions, both you and Riddle benefited.

“Yes, my mother's recipe,” you speak in hushed tones, not wanting to draw attention, “I didn’t know you liked sweets.”

He frowns a little, biting his bottom lip and furrowing his brows. You briefly imagine a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar and smile a little, which seems to ease his mind a bit as his face relaxes.

“I’m not… supposed to eat sweets like that,” he admits finally, “they’re too fattening and not good for the health.”

You shake your head at him, scoffing, “A little treat once in a while is a good thing. Anyway, I am glad you ate them. I didn’t want all of our hard work to be wasted.”

His pretty pink lips curled up into a smile, which makes butterflies flutter around in your rib cage. Riddle is handsome, which you knew from your encounters beforehand, but you hadn’t taken the time to study why that was before. His face was slender, cheeks still soft with not yet lost baby fat. His skin was pale from how much time he spent indoors being pampered by his maids and serfs, and his cheeks flushed a pretty rosy red – you believed it was natural, which only made him more handsome in your opinion. 

Despite the soft, childlike look he had, his features were sharp and trained like a true ruler. Steel blue eyes pierced into every aspect of your being, framed by soft, long eyelashes. And, of course, those damned pink lips. The dip of his cupid's bow gave them a heart-shaped look, which only added to how pretty he was. Sevens, you were jealous of just how effortlessly beautiful your – tentative – friend was.

“I’m inclined to agree with you after eating those tarts,” he laughs, ending your ogling.

You give him a pleasant smile and move to eat your meal. You were the only person in the room that had hardly touched the food, which was delicious, and so entirely unlike yourself. You made up for that in record time, still managing to look and act like you were royalty while you did so. (After seeing Ace and Deuce eat earlier this week, you were very conscious of how you looked while you ate).

You noticed the, in lack of better terms, impressed face Riddle makes when he finally looks back at your plate and half of it is gone. He does not say anything though, and you are grateful for it because explaining how much you like food to someone as slim and pretty as him fills you with hot shame just thinking about it. You give him a gracious smile, lightly patting your lips to be rid of any food that might’ve escaped you.

“You eat like a monster,” comes a grating, gravely deep voice next to you.

Riddle scoffs, a glare hardening his soft, boyish features. You lift a hand before he can defend your honor. Your eyes slide over to Leona, annoyance already clear on your face. You do not feel the need to hide your dislike for him like you might with the others. Leona sure doesn’t hide his. Still, you can’t just be cruel the way you want to.

“If I am a monster for enjoying the food my staff slaved so tirelessly over, then let the kingdom’s best hunters come and take my head as a prize,” you reply.

He grins. A slow, lazy one that is more attractive than you want to give him credit for, and holds his hands up in defense. “I’m just letting you know. Not very attractive – oh, and you have something in your teeth.”

Your face heats up, hands shooting up to cover your mouth with an indignant huff. You quickly wipe at your teeth, feeling humiliated. You were no match for Leona in a game of downright meanness. 

Riddle settled his glare at him again, “You could stand to be a little kinder if you want a chance at their hand.”

“I don’t want a chance at their hand,” Leona shoots back. Despite how that should relieve you, your humiliation only grows at the idea that you are not desirable. (You did not want to be desirable, especially not to him, but you cannot control your emotions when they are already high.)

“But your family does,” Comes the cool voice of Azul, sudden and jarring compared to the other competitions. A deceivingly kind smile grows on his face, and he waves his hand in the air as if dissipating your embarrassment like smoke with it. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, the three of you were just so… amusing that I couldn’t help myself.

You sigh, again fiddling with the fingers of your gloves. His words rang in your head, again faced with the fact that you were nothing but a chess piece in the larger game of politics right now. Suddenly, Riddle’s gentle kindness from earlier felt a little more… sharp.

Azul’s lips relax into what you’ve come to know as his deal-making face – though you are sure that if he were to try and make a deal here your brother would execute him without a second thought. “A little kindness to our dearest benefactor couldn’t hurt. They are, by all means, the key to our future success. They deserve at least respect for that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Leona drawls, slumping into his seat, “I’ve heard the whole song and dance. Being a suck-up isn’t gonna help your case any more than me though. Credit where credit’s due, they’re damn perceptive for being so sheltered.”

Something more akin to a sneer than a smile climbs its way onto your face, “Oh, thank you so much. How kind, Prince Leona. I’m flattered, truly.”

“Is something the matter down there?” Your brother called. Your side of the table fell quiet, a chill running over you all (except Leona, who was never bothered by your brother's icy demeenor). 

Used to the cold feeling climbing up your spine, you recovered the fastest, a sweet smile gracing your face, “No, not at all Your Majesty. We were just discussing the arrangement between ourselves.”

He hums, staring you down. You do not break, like you know he wants you to. You would not bend. You could not. You had to show him you were capable, now more than ever. 

Finally, he smiles, “Perhaps that would be good for all of us – to discuss why you are participating in this game for my beloved younger sibling’s heart?”

Your lips pull up into a lopsided smirk. So this was the game your brother was playing at. Force them to lay their cards on the table to start, while yours stayed close to your chest. It explained why he was so secretive about everything, and while you did not like being a pawn in his scheme, you could understand his methods. Masterful planning, as usual. Your frustration at his lack of communication is watered down by how impressed you are. 

“Well, Princess, since you are the hand to be won, who would you like to hear from first?” Vil asks, all smiles as if he wasn’t playing a game of mental chess this whole time.

If you wanted to succeed in this whole… suitor business, you had to be smarter. Faster. More precise.

“Ah, there are so many lovely options here. Where shall we begin?” You hum, feigning thought as you gazed across the table, then finally landed on Leona.

“Well… since I was already discussing it, I’ll start with these three gentlemen!” You exclaim.

Leona sighs, annoyance clear on his face. The other two seem to accept their fate rather willingly, ready to come up with their noble (or not-so-noble) reasons as to why you should give them the time of day. ‘The princess is kind, pretty, intelligent– blah, blah, blah’ the usual. You had no intent to actually let them speak to start. So you tutted at them.

“Don’t worry, I won’t put any of you on the spot,” you hum sweetly, “See, I did a bit of digging, just to see what I could find, and did I find.”

You decide the least noble of the three would be put on the chopping block first, “Leona has no real stake in this fight for my hand. He does not like me, he does not have any real bearing on his kingdoms welfare, and quite honestly there’s very little gain that the Sunset Savannah can earn from an arrangement between itself and our kingdom… except political prowess. To marry into our family would give them even more power and control than they already have, but they don’t need it nearly as badly as others at this table. Is that right, Leona?”

Leona huffs out of his nose, clapping slowly at you, bemused by your straightforwardness. If there was one thing you did like about Leona, is that he acquiesced when he knew he had to. He was prideful, but he did not let it get in the way of his presentation, and that was refreshing compared to other royalty. “Spot on, princess.”

“Now… Riddle,” you say thoughtfully, “You are a political pawn for whatever your mother wants, and right now she wants power. Much like Leona, you are here to better your standing among the other kingdoms and give your cabinet more moving room in this metaphorical game of chess. The Rosedom is already incredibly close with us, however, so I can only imagine the lack of movement stems from low funds?”

He nods, eyes narrowed in something akin to embarrassment and annoyance. Unlike Leona, Riddle’s and his Kingdom’s pride was everything to him, and you are afraid you might’ve squashed it – along with any friendliness that had been there earlier. “That is… true. We are going through a horrible economic depression, and this arrangement would, hopefully, help us climb out of it.”

“Speaking of money…” you point to Idia, who looks like he might’ve pissed himself then and there, “your family owns STYX?”

He nods, eyes watering and wide, like you were pointing a gun to his head. He is nothing like the man who borderline threatened you in the library some weeks ago, and the power rush you get from scaring him is a little too satisfying.

“I’m not exactly sure what you do there. I assume it’s magic-related, knowing your family history, and it likely isn’t cheap. I also understand our… ahem… former magic research team was one of the best in Twisted Wonderland. I can only imagine that your family sent you here for money and better resources?”

He whimpers, and you take that as a resounding yes, shifting your focus to Kalim, who greets it with a wide grin. It makes you wonder, briefly, why there is even a debate about who you might marry in the first place. Kalim is kind, generous, rich, and incredibly handsome. Not to mention that servant Jamil of his is rather… charming. (The romanticist in you cannot help but imagine midnight trysts and forbidden love). Then you recall the horrible tales of attempted assassinations and remember why you never visited the Scalding Sands to begin with.

“I remember reading somewhere that your father was looking for more direct trade routes?” You ask aloud.

He nods, confirming it with all the delight in the world, “The route Father has takes nearly two weeks, and many of the goods can easily be stolen in the dangerous territory on the outskirts of our kingdoms.”

“It would half the travel time and double profit,” You add smartly, “not to mention it eliminates the worry of marrying you off to someone who might want to kill you and your family. On top of that, we are already friends, so we could skip the pesky getting to know each other part of all this.”

His grin manages to widen, which charms you in a way only someone like him could. If only there were no major risks to your livelihood…

Your eyes flit over to Azul, who gives you a kind, placid smile. Fake, you think. Azul Ashengrotto was a mystery to you, despite knowing he had his claws (or, well, tentacles) in your kingdom's marketplace for years. He came out of nowhere from the deep sea with his two lackeys, and you hadn’t been rid of him. However, he had never bothered you until now.

“You are… an unexpected suitor, Azul.” You state plainly.

“My apologies. I did not mean to inconvenience you,” he hums back, disgustingly kind.

“No, no, it makes things more interesting,” you dismiss with an equally kind smile, “the only thing I can imagine you would want is connections and power. Marrying a royal makes you one by default which means you can expand your business in ways that you could never do beforehand. Though, I’m sure you could find a way without me.”

His smile cools into a more tense one, though he does not do anything more. Finally, you are faced with Malleus, who is smirking in interest at your tirade. You know very little of Malleus. You know very little of Fae. You do know, however, too much about politics. With this, you can reasonably infer a few things about this arrangement for your horned suitor.

“Prince Malleus Draconia of The Valley of Thornes is, perhaps, my most interesting choice among you all,” you begin, rubbing your chin thoughtfully, “From what I know, your Kingdom has plenty of influence, more than enough money, and a very strong army. You don’t need our connections, you have no benefit economically, and human soldiers would be a laughable offer to you. So, what, could you want from this?”

The table is silent as you mull it over, many of the men equally curious as you are. (Sans Leona, of course, who would rather die than think about Malleus for more than a few seconds at a time). You cannot think of anything Malleus or his kingdom would gain from an alliance with humans, but he must need something. Your eyes glance over your brother and you notice, for just a second, a moment, something akin to nervousness crosses his face. Idia, you realize, also appears to have a knowing nervousness in his eyes.

Then, all at once, you connect it. It’s magic. It’s those monsters Rook is hunting. Malleus needs human help, for some reason, with those monsters. You can’t voice that, of course, because your brother can’t know that you know. So, you come up with something on the fly.

“You need connection. Not for power, but because you want it,” you say finally, “not to say you are lonely… perhaps you just wish for a different kind of connection? Human connection?”

His smirk slides into an impressed smile, posture somehow more straight, and eyes lighting up in delighted approval. You hate to admit that he is quite handsome when he is charmed like this. “Yes, exactly. You are very observant, and much more thoughtful than I have given you credit for.”

“Ah… thank you…” you say slowly, doing your best not to show your annoyance at the unintentional jab to your intellect.

“I have read many books about humans and their behaviors. Their social habits, interests, abilities, and their kingdoms all fascinate me. I wanted a chance to come here and befriend some of you,” he admits rather willingly, and you find it rather cute how honest he is. Oh- wait, you’re supposed to dislike him! Stay stubborn!

“Well, I am honored that you chose me,” you say kindly, an overused platitude that always seemed to say enough when you needed it.

“Your observations are impressive,” your brother finally speaks up, and you can tell there is a thing of worry deep in his eyes, “truly… I have no idea when you had the time to gather this information.”

“People talk. In the city, the castle, the courtyard. If you listen, you learn,” you state simply.

You know you are a prize to be won, you understand that you cannot stop that. What you can do is make it as difficult as possible for everyone else involved, and that is exactly what you will do. Kindness is a weapon in this game, and you will not be cut by soft words and gentle gestures. 

So the dinner continues on, now with the knowledge that you are also playing their game. That you, perhaps, are several steps ahead of them. The tenseness does not subside, but neither does the conversation. You discuss politics with Riddle, your love of board games with Azul and Idia, food with Kalim, and even snark back and forth about your families with Leona. Malleus, for all its worth, discusses his enjoyment of your castles architecture, and you promise to show him the gargoyles near the south exit sometime during his stay.

It is… pleasant. Normal. A relief from all that has been stressing you. Despite the looming thought that all of this is for the show, you enjoy yourself as much as you can afford. Once all of you have eaten your fill, your brother gives another delightful speech, and you are all dismissed back to your quarters for the night. Except, your company this time is Riddle, not Epel.

“Oh! I forgot to ask, those horse riding lessons, are they still on the table?” you ask excitedly.

He blinks, clearly taken aback, but recovers quickly, “Ah, yes, those. Of course, I would not offer something and not mean it.”

You smile, “How gentlemanly.”

“It’s common courtesy,” he rebukes.

“Not many people around here know what that means, so it’s refreshing to see that you do,” you state simply, enjoying the way his face heats up, “Would you… like to meet my horse?”

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you had no expertise?”

“I don’t, but I do have a horse,” you laugh, “she’s my mother’s horse's daughter – a little confusing, I know.”

He laughs, a genuine one, “You want to introduce me tonight? Is it not late?”

You frown a little, evading your gaze, “I… rarely sleep well anyway. It would be a nice distraction if you’d allow me?”

He does not say anything else but nods as if his mind is made up. You walk to the stables side by side, comfortable quiet overcoming both of you. You’ve realized you do not need too many words with Riddle, which is nice compared to how many words you’ve come to need with everyone else. He is quiet as he slides open the door to the stables, and he is quiet and you lead him to the stable you know holds your girl. 

You know that she is spoiled and well cared for, her glossy black coat and braided mane enough to tell you that. She is ridden frequently enough by visitors and trainers, so she is well-behaved when you reach in to let her sniff your hand. It takes her a moment, but somehow, she recognizes you and presses her nose against your palm. 

“She is beautiful,” Riddle mutters, clearly not meaning to say it out loud.

“I know, such a shame that I can’t ride her,” you laugh, “humiliating actually. What princess doesn’t know how to ride a horse – her own horse even?”

He tuts at you, moving to slide the stable door open, excitedly observing her physique. She does not jerk away when he touches her, which only seems to excite him more. It’s cute, you think, but you don’t want to ruin his moment by voicing it. Finally, he sighs and turns to you with a… pitying look.

“It is not… a secret that you are sheltered – even more than I was. I can’t blame you for not living a normal life when you were not allotted it, and I think you should be kinder to yourself as well,” he responds.

You don’t know what to say to that. What could you say to that? You knew your childhood and life as it was, was not normal. Not even normal for being the princess of a powerful kingdom. Other royals were afforded more freedom – even Kalim who constantly had a bounty on his head was allowed to do more, to see more, to be more than you. You just never liked to think about it, and you still didn’t want to. Not yet, anyhow. Not with everything else on your mind.

“I appreciate the advice, Riddle,” you sigh finally, which relieves him of the tension that was steadily growing in his shoulders.

He rubs the side of your horse, patting her affectionately. She huffs, turning away from him. It’s a funny sight, to see such a big thing cower from a small man. You do not hide your amusement this time, stepping into the stable with him. He smiles softly at you, beckoning you closer, and then he hands you a brush from a bucket.

“A good way to build trust between rider and horse is to spend quality time together,” he explains, “while you don’t have much time together yet, we can start tonight by brushing her.”

He positions himself behind you, keeping a respectable enough distance between your bodies, then guides your movements across her strong body. You try not to pay attention to the warmth emanating off your bodies, or how his touch is so gentle on top of yours. You try to convince yourself that this positioning is necessary for the task at hand, that he is just being kind. (You are certain that Riddle is not the type to lead unsuspecting young princesses into dark stables for nefarious purposes.) You glance back to look at his face, which is red hot and does not make you feel any better.

“Are there… benefits for brushing a coat so short?” you ask, trying anything to take your mind off your predicament.

“Several.” his breath is hot against your face, “despite the coat being short, it helps keep the skin healthy and removes any debris that could harm the horse in the long run.” you despise yourself for speaking in the first place, “It also allows the rider to do a checkup to ensure everything is fine physically.” You curse the Seven for allowing you to be so stupid, “And, of course, it is often used as a means of strengthening your bond with the horse.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Fascinating.”

He steps away after you are thoroughly hot and bothered, sighing to himself about something or other. You were too caught in your head to eavesdrop this time. Eventually, you set the brush back where you saw him grab it from, brushing off your silk gloves, then groaning as you realized you were still in the dress. The bottom of it was covered in dirt, and your gloves had bits of horse hair stuck in it.

“Perhaps the stables were not the best idea…” you sigh, pulling at the hair in your gloves.

Riddle grins, “I think you’re right. My shoes are disgusting.”

“I don’t even want to check mine,” you groan.

You share a laugh, hearty and good, then dust yourselves off and wander your way to the fountain which is not too far from the stables. You discuss your love for sweets and learn of his affection for the guards he had brought with him – including Ace and Deuce, which surprised you with how harsh he was on them. It was tough love, of course, because contrary to popular belief Riddle Rosehearts was not a monster.

Reaching the fountain, the two of you settle upon its lip. From here you can see the exit where you’re meant to meet Rook. Your heart stutters at the thought. Because you were seeing Rook again or because you were meant to learn magic under your brother's nose… that was yet to be decided. Maybe it was both.

“You are a hunter, yes?” Riddle asks suddenly, gaze following yours.

“I…” You hesitate, no you weren’t. Not anymore… not technically. “Not really. I used to be, and I was good. But these past few years my brother all but banned me from doing so.”

He hums, “From what I’ve heard, that hasn’t stopped you at all.”

You feel your face heat up. What happened on your birthday was sure to get around, but no one had been bold enough to bring it up to you yet. You should feel proud of your little rebellion, but you felt almost shameful. “It was… a last hurrah. That's all.” Besides, you think, after seeing the blot monster you’d rather not go hunting. Not without magic, at least. Ah, yes, magic. You were meant to ask him about that, hmm?

Truthfully, the idea of asking about magic was scary, because your brother had made it that way. But… all of your suitors were powerful magicians. Magic was natural to them, which helped ease their worries a bit. “You’re… a magician, right? Ace and Deuce mentioned it once.”

He hesitates. Clearly, he was aware of the rule your brother implemented and withheld, but he was not a liar. “...I am. I’ve been practicing since I could walk.”

You nod, pulling at the fabric of your dress, “Is it… does it hurt? To perform spells and such?”

He shakes his head quickly, almost incredulous at the suggestion, “Magic is harmless – not harmless, I suppose, but it does not harm the user.” He huffs in disbelief, “I was aware you didn’t practice magic, but I assumed you knew the basics.”

You shake your head, “What I was taught I’ve practically forgotten.”

He sighs, “I can’t believe that… how long has it been since then?”

You shrug. You don’t know. One day your parents were gone, and with them your magic professor and most other magic-related items in the castle. “My brother…”

“Is a giant prick?” A voice came from the bushes nearby, and with it emerged Leona. Does he… never sleep in his room?

“What in the world are you doing?” Riddle questions before you can.

“Wasn’t feeling like going back to my room yet,” He says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, “I was enjoying my nap until you two interrupted.”

“This is my garden, Leona.” You state, and he shrugs. “Also, don’t talk about my brother like that.”

“He is a prick. A royal asshole,” he repeats, “everyone thinks it. I know you do too.”

Riddle nods, surprisingly agreeing with Leona, “While I wouldn’t put it like that, your brother is… unpleasant most times.”

“Too much influence and power got to his head,” Leona emphasizes with a sharp point to his head, “he makes everyone around him miserable, even his own family.”

You huff, glaring down at the muddied edge of your dress. He was right. You were miserable and the only one to blame was your brother. He’d conditioned you well too, wanting to defend him. Though… part of that was just because you wanted to argue with Leona.

“And since we’re talking about it, his thing with magic is… insane!” He exclaims, with the most emotions you’d ever seen from him. “I don’t need magic to function, no one does, but to withhold that from an entire kingdom might be his worst offense.”

Riddle adamantly nods along to what he says, “It’s incredibly hypocritical as well. He uses magic all the time, but he keeps it from everyone except a select few. Even sending raids to rid the city of magic every few months. It’s the most extreme abuse of power I’ve seen, and I’m my mother's son.”

You… were not aware of these raids. Sure, magic use was prohibited, but… how many of your citizens had been put away and punished for it. None, you hoped, but hope hadn’t gotten you very far recently. Sevens, you could feel your blood boil. 

“The only thing worse is that he invited that stupid reptile Malleus,” Leona growled, “No one likes him, he’s not wanted.”

Something about his attitude makes something… click in your brain. You could use this. You needed more allies you could trust within the castle walls. Their disdain for your brother was proof enough that they were not under his thumb. 

“He’s up to something,” you declare, drawing both sets of eyes to you.

“Well no duh–” Leona starts, but you cut him off quickly.

“No. He’s doing something far more dangerous and serious than usual,” You clarify, “And he’s using me – my hand in marriage – as a cover-up. A reason to get powerful people here.”

“Oh yeah…?” Leona quirks a brow.

“If he… was planning something big, and he wanted powerful people, why wouldn’t we know about it already?” Riddle asks, suspicious of the whole idea.

“Because he needs you to make it look more natural.” You answer simply.

Leona chews on the idea for a while, and then smirks, “Clever bastard. She’s right.” Riddle hums curiously, “Think about it. If he just invited Malleus or Idia, it would’ve been suspicious. We’re all cover-ups for whatever the hell he’s planning.”

“Exactly!” You exclaim, standing and turning so you can face both of them, “And, I have an idea of what exactly he’s up to.”

Riddle watches you intently, and Leona gestures for you to go on. Your chest hums at the approval. Finally. Respect you deserve.

“Now, Leona, you’re going to laugh and I’m going to ignore you,” You express, “You know those ink monsters from our fairytale books, it has something to do with those.”

Leona rolls his eyes, “I told you, those aren’t real. They’re kiddy tales to scare people like you off.”

Riddle, to your shared shock, hushes him. “Let them speak, you oaf.”

You take a deep breath, smile at him, and continue, “I know they’re real because I saw one. I killed one myself the night I stood Malleus up at my party.” While you didn’t exactly kill it, you decide the details are trivial, “Whatever’s going on, it has to do with those… things. I know it, and I have to figure out whatever it is without my brother knowing.”

Leona scoffs, but Riddle thinks it over, deeply, “You really believe her? Could’ve been a big scary bear.” 

“May I remind you of the grizzly head in our library? Who do you think did that?” You snap back. Riddle is quick to end the argument before it gets too intense.

“Many of our hunters, our very best come back with stories of inky beasts. Some are so taken by their fear that they refuse to step foot in the forest again,” Riddle explains as he thinks it over, “So, with that in mind, they very well could be real. It would be too convenient for it to be mass hysteria, and I doubt so many hunters would come back with the same description of these monsters if it were some elaborate lie.”

Hope blossoms in your chest. Yes.Yes! Someone is listening. Someone understands! Leona sighs, not quite defeated, but not as skeptical as before. He seems… annoyed more than anything as he speaks.

“One of my retainers back home – Ruggie, you know him,” you do know him. You like Ruggie. “He came back one day whining about some… inky… thing he saw out picking dandelions or something. I thought he was just losing it… but- Anyway, even if they are real, what can we do about it?”

“Magic,” you state simply, “it can only be defeated by magic. You can widdle it down with physical attacks, but the only way to kill it is magic. I have a feeling the situation is much more out of hand than we expect, which is why my brother is being so hush-hush about it.”

Riddle nods in agreement, “Inviting Idia should be proof enough of that.”

“Okay, so we got that figured out,” Leona interrupts, “what benefit is it for us to get in the way of your brother? He’s got it under control.”

You frown. Sure, it looks like that, but knowing your brother… it probably was far out of control. That's why he was doing what he was doing, to get control. But diplomatic relations can only get you so far. A little selfish part of you also just wanted to prove yourself too.

“The more people working on a problem the better,” Riddle saves with precision, “the more angles we come at the issue with, the less likely it is to get out of hand. No matter the methods.”

You smile at Riddle for the millionth time that night, and nod in affirmation, “And, if you help me, I can help both of you.”

“How’s that?” Leona scoffs.

“First, I can essentially make any semblance of this marriage thing disappear for you, and give your family what they want,” you explain, “You don’t have to work, and you don’t have to deal with your brother scolding you. Riddle will be given sufficient funds and resources to help the Rosedom get back on its feet. You can’t lose.”

He tenses his jaw, flexing it back and forth as he thinks it over. With Leona, there’s no promise he’ll say yes, but there's no promise he says no either. Finally, he sighs, “Alright, fine. I’ll help you, but only when I want to.”

“Deal!” you exclaim, “Riddle?”

“I’ll help you. It benefits both of us, regardless of any reward you give me after the fact,” He answers.

You grin, and as if the world itself was bending to your whim, the clock tower tolled midnight. Perfect timing for an escape.

[oneforthemunny]

don't fear the reaper |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader| part 7

prompt: your introduction to eddie's ex-wife goes less than ideal.

age gap. reader is 26, Eddie is 42. everything is consensual. if you don't like it, don't read plz.

contains: language, dilf!eddie, older!eddie, age gap, angst, gina is Eddie's ex wife and she's really mean :(

"Can you get that, sweet thing?" Eddie asks, screwdriver in hand, hunched over the little set of drawers that he was assembling, tongue poked out in concentration.

You'd been happily watching him build all morning, a warm and light feeling buzzing through your body. You grinned cheekily to yourself when Eddie slipped on a pair of reading glasses before he had started. He looked over them at you, peering over the black frames with an exaggerated stare, pointing a warning finger playfully in your direction.

"Not a word. Understand, missy?" His tone was stern, playful, pulling a string of giggles from your chest. Your cheeks flush at his tone, tipping your head to the side to admire him. The way the veins in his hand protruded when he tightened something with the screwdriver, his tongue poking out in concentration. 

Eddie had just established the base of the drawers when there was a knock at the door. You stood, setting down your mug on the coffee table. "Should be Brielle. She's always forgettin' her key." Eddie sighed, a firm eye roll.

You opened the door, ready to see the girl who resembled your boyfriend so much- same eyes, dimples, cheeks. She'd been at her mom's all weekend, and you were happy to have her back, now that things were better with you two. You smiled widely, eyes lighting up, a welcome on the tip of your tongue.

Instead, you were greeted with a pair of piercing eyes, narrowed at you from the moment you opened the door, unfamiliar and challenging.

You blinked, looking at the woman in front of you, jarred and a little frightened. You knew her, how could you not? Gina, Eddie's ex-wife, Brielle's mother. You’d seen the photos- maybe, done a stalk on Facebook with your best friend. 

Gina's lips twisted, a scoff falling from them that had you stepping back in the doorway. "I'll be goddammed." She said every word slowly, dripped in venom. Your heart hammered, eyes wide, caught, scared.

Brielle squirmed, eyes sympathetically meeting yours. She was uncomfortable, intimidated too, though you weren’t really sure why. "Mom, I'm here now. You can go back in the car-"

"Nuh-uh." Gina snapped, eyes never leaving yours. You felt exposed under her gaze, vulnerable, wrapping your arms around your middle protectively. "I wanna meet the new girl your dad has you hangin' around. Make sure she's not being a bad influence on my baby." Her words were nearly mocking, your hand gripping the door in a white knuckled grasp.

Eddie's heavy footsteps appeared behind you, shoulders falling when he saw Gina. "For fuckssake, Gina..." He sighed, annoyed, exasperated, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well, hello to you, too, Edward." Gina spat the name like it was a bad taste in her mouth, lips curling into a snarl. Her teeth barred, like a predator to prey- amused. This was a game to her. One she was very good at, apparently. 

"The fuck are you doin', huh?" Eddie threw his arm out, looking down at Gina, standing at his full height. "You don't have better things to do?"

Gina laughed, humorless, eyes rolling. "Not when it comes to our child." Gina snapped. She paused, lips pursing, icy eyes sliding over your frame, sending shivers down your spine. "Sorry, I guess I should say our daughter, looks like you have another child in your life."

Your heart dropped, stammering lightly. Gina gave you a smug, challenging look. Brielle looked down, shifting on her feet. "Mom, can you stop? It's embarrassing-"

"Oh, I'm embarrassing?" Gina snapped, looking at her daughter. Brielle recoiled slightly, shrinking under her gaze. "But your father prancing around with jail bait isn't-"

"Alright, Gina, that's enough." Eddie growled, stepping in front of you. They glared at each other, so angry, full of hatred. "You wanna say some shit to me? Fine, but leave her out of this. And have some decency to not do this in front of Brie." He bit, glaring down the slope of his nose at her. 

Gina gasped, loud and accusatory. "Don't you dare, Eddie, don't you even fuckin' dare." She pointed a long, manicured nail at him, jabbing it at him. "Don't pull the bad mom card on me when you're dating someone the same age as Brielle!"

"She is not the same age, Gina, what the fuck-"

"Sweetheart," Gina turned to you, the pet name Eddie usually adorned to you was covered in malice, making your blood run cold. "How old are you?" She mocked you, spoke to you like you were a child- like you spoke to your kids at school. 

"Twenty-s-six." You stammered dumbly, heart pounding in your ears. It was nine in the morning, you weren't exactly prepared to be berated and harassed like this, this early.

Gina's lips pressed together, eyebrows shooting up. She scoffed, loud and derisive. "Twenty-six?" She repeated, each syllable rolling off her tongue furiously, looking at Eddie with a glare so cold it made you shiver.

 "So, when I had Brielle, you were what? Nine, ten?" She laughed, but she wasn't amused. It was a mean girl mocking laugh, one that took you back to days in middle school in the locker room at gym. "And Eddie, what were you doing then? Twenty-six years ago? Oh, that's right, you were still selling weed to high-school kids to support the baby-"

"Gina, I'm not doing this shit with you." Eddie seethed, jaw set and eyes hard. He glared at her, eyes flicking over to Brielle, who shrunk into herself, eyes on the steps. You could see the guilt wash over Eddie, jaw ticking and eyes softening. "Get in here, baby girl. I'll be just a second." He guided Brielle in, hand protectively on the back of her head, giving you a small nod before shutting the door.

You and Brielle stood in the doorway, not moving, eyes glued on the wooden door. Your heart was hammering in your throat, stopping and speeding when you would hear the muffled words and screams from the other side. A rollercoaster of emotions, tummy dropping and turning, twisting and seeking further and further into your nerves. 

"She's a fuckin' child, Ed!"

"Gina, are you out of your fuckin' mind? She's an adult, a teacher. A really great teacher-"

"Probably because she's the same age as them! They have so much in common!"

"Oh, fuck off, Gina. Aren't you married? Why the fuck do you care?"

"I don't want someone like that around my daughter! What kind of example is this? Whoring herself with some old guy!"

"She is not-"

"-How would you feel if Brie was doing this, huh? Fucking around with a guy twice her age?"

Your stomach dropped when Eddie didn't reply. You felt the color drain, feeling sick to your stomach. Brielle looked at you carefully, fingers twisting around her overnight bag, wringing them nervously.

"That's what I thought." Gina's voice was firm, smug. "I don't know what you're going through, Eddie, but this is a lot. Even for you."

"Get the fuck outta my house, Gina." Eddie growled, heavy footsteps moving towards the door. You could hear her muffled, biting response, mean and biting even through the door.

You stepped back just as Eddie threw the door open, eyes furious and blazing. He ran a hand over his scruff, free hand balled by his side. He looked at you, eyes drooping gently- tired, defeated.

"'M gonna go outside." Eddie growled, stomping towards the back door. "Need a minute." His hand ran over Brie’s shoulder, comfortingly- an apology. 

You flinched when Eddie slammed the door, shaking the house. Brielle looked at you, eyes wide and cautious, embarrassed. "They... They do this all the time." She offered softly. You didn't reply, eyes still glued on the back door.

"I'm sorry..." Brielle said softly. You looked over at her. "For what my mom said." She added, rubbing her arms awkwardly. "She can be like that sometimes. Don't take it personally."

You nodded, tongue feeling thick and constricted in your mouth.

Brielle hesitated, looking from you back to the window where a stream of smoke could be seen. Eddie. She lifted her bag gently, moving down the hall to her room. You didn't move, you couldn't.

Gina's words hurt you. It made your head rattle with insecurities and racing thoughts, self doubt and humbled truths. Eddie's reaction- or lack thereof- to her final accusation had your stomach twisting, knotting. Why did it hurt you so bad? Was Eddie embarrassed of you?

Eddie came in from the backdoor, shoulders still tense but eyes softened, nicotine induced relaxation. "I'm sorry about that, bunny. She can be a real-" Eddie stopped, looking at you in the doorway.

You didn't move, stilling even at his voice, zoned on the wall in front of you. Eddie called your name softly, hands raised in a slow approach, like you were a frightened animal that might scatter. His brows furrowed, lips pulling into a soft frown. 

Your eyes met his, lip trembling gently. Eddie's face softened. "Baby, what's wrong?" He cooed, stepping towards you so he could rub his hands down your arms. "Don't let her upset you, ok? She just said all of that because wants you to be upset-"

"You didn't answer her." Your eyes flashed at him. His forehead creased in confusion. "When she said that about Brie, you didn't reply."

Eddie exhaled, tired, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, because I'm not arguing with her. It's pointless." He huffed. "All it does is make my blood pressure go up, and she just starts saying crazy shit. She thrives off that kinda attention, and it just gets worse when you give it to her. Trust me, baby." He muttered, eyes pinching shut at the thought. This was routine, a painful routine he was far too used to. 

You huffed, crossing your arms, stepping out of his grasp, anger bristling in your chest. "You answered her every other time, Ed." You bit, jaw clenching to keep your tears from falling.

Eddie threw his hands up. "What do you want me to say here? I wasn't gettin' into that with her-"

"Because you think she's right." You challenged him, brows raised in suspicion. "You think there's something wrong with this? With us?"

"No, fuck," Eddie growled, vein in his neck protruding, angry and prominent against his flushed skin. "I don't think there's anything wrong with us, ok? I wouldn't be doin' this if I did-"

"Then why didn't you say anything?" You shrieked, throwing your hands out. "You made it look like you thought that!" Your heart hammered in your chest, defensive and angry. 

Eddie's eyes bulged, head jutting forward. "Why? I wasn't lettin' her use my daughter against me like that ok? It's fucked up, and she knows what she's doin'! She knows it'll piss me off, and I'll fight with her the way she wants, and I'm not doin' that!" He boomed, voice bouncing off the walls, echoing into your ears.

Your eyes cut down the hall towards Brielle's room. Eddie huffed, shaking his head. You stood in silence, Eddie shaking his head, exhaling a short huff of air.

"I'm sorry, ok? I'm sorry I didn't say anything to her, I just-" Eddie stopped himself. "I was done. Done letting her say shit to you, to me, and she always drags Brie into the middle of it to try and make me feel bad or-or fight with her more."

You looked down at your feet. "I'm sorry." You muttered.

Eddie shook his head. "You don't have nothin' to be sorry for-"

"No, I'm sorry." You said sincerely, eyes lifting to him. "I'm sorry she does that to you. 'S not right."

Eddie's face softened, lines smoothing when you grabbed his hand, holding it gently, pressing kisses into his palm. "I don't think there's anything wrong with us. I was just scared...you did."

Eddie gave a lopsided smile, pulling you into him by your waist. "Nuh-uh," Eddie smirked, lips moving to your cheek, soft feathery kisses pressing against your skin.

"Just like a pretty little thing like you to keep me young." He teased, large hands giving your ass a firm squeeze, smiling as you squealed into his ear. "Nothin' wrong with that."

You smiled, moving his curly tendrils out of his face. He kissed you fully, lips sliding over yours in a passionate kiss that had your cheeks heating. "Don't listen to her, alright?" Eddie muttered against your lips.

You nod, looking over your shoulder, face falling when you look at Brielle's door. Eddie followed your gaze, shoulders dropping. "Was she upset?" He asked.

You shrugged lightly. "She said she did it all the time... Apologized to me for what she said." You muttered.

Eddie cringed gently, air exhaling out his mouth in a loud sigh. "'M just gonna go check on her." He said, eyes softening to look at you. "See where the hell she wants these drawers too." He huffed, motioning to the unfinished project in the living room.

You grinned, smacking his ass playfully in his sweatpants. "Go check on her." You teased, winking at him.Eddie raised his brows, grinning before pointing at you. "You better watch yourself, little girl." He purred, smirking at your blistering flush.

[yardsards]

This is why I refuse to watch/read delicious in dungeon. The entire thing gives me fatphobic vibes.

see the premise as a whole is actually very body positive (i myself had similar worries that a story about eating "healthy" would rely on fatphobic ideas of "healthy", but was pleasantly surprised). like, its approach to "healthy" is "make sure you're eating enough of everything so that your body has enough fuel. make sure you're resting enough and not overworking." rather than "you must not eat The Bad Junk Food." (like, there's one part early on where they're like "oh, we've eaten too much vegetables and lean meat, we need to eat more fat" so they search for fatty meat and eggs. and then later they eat deep fried food and no one is ever like "oh no, this is too fattening" they're just like "wow this is great it's so crispy and tasty")

and the core message of it all is just like "your body is a part of you, and is the part of you that allows you to do things and reach your goals. don't treat it like a burden or an afterthought." and the series has had a positive impact on the way i view and treat my body

and overall, it's better than a lot of other popular anime series in terms of representing realistic and diverse body types. our two human (or "tallman" as they're called in-universe) main characters, laios and falin, are not super skinny, with no wasp waist or shrink-wrapped abs. i would not consider either of them fat in canon, but they're still fatter than your average popular anime character. certain races like dwarves and orcs are just naturally stout, and are never treated as being unhealthy or unattractive because of their weight. fatness is said to be a respected trait among adventurers, as a sign that you're good at survival and can safely recover from injuries.

however. the show has a few small things that make me raise my eyebrows. one or two iffy offhand comments (glaring at you, That One Conversation about laios's hunger near the end) that in most media i'd just be like "sighhh, normalized societal fatphobia strikes again, as expected." but for this series it's like "god damn it, i expected better from you."

and some things about how body types between fantasy races are handled leaves something to be desired for me. like yeah dwarves are all stocky, but also elves are all slender. it makes sense for the different fantasy races to have different *average* body types, but i wish we got to see more variation from those averages between individuals.

(also, i can fully understand praising laios and falin's canon body types! even medium body types are underrepresented in most media and it's good to see more of them! but calling them *fat* representation just feels inaccurate to me)

it's just like. dungeon meshi is GOOD in terms of body positivity and representation, but it's not PERFECT.

like, i love this show/manga (if you couldn't tell from the content of my blog)

mostly i voice my complaints bc like. i'm tired of tumblr getting it's hands on a piece of media that is good and generally progressive and acting like the media is *perfect*. and then proceeding to treat anyone who points out things the media could have done better as if they personally slayed your firstborn. (and then, months later, after the hype dies down, realize that some of that criticism was actually very valid, and then violently knock the piece of media down from its pedestal. and act like everyone involved in the media's creation are irredeemable scum and that anyone who still likes it should be ashamed)

so yeah, funny dungeon show good, and i strongly recommend it if you like fantasy stories and food and worldbuilding, just don't expect it to be a flawless paragon of representation and fat positivity

(also take everything i say here with a grain of salt bc i myself am thin, i just care a lot about representation in media and body acceptance and dismantling fatphobia)

[notelcol]

First Meetings ☂️ 🔥

Two opposite vibes for two opposite characters 🤣

Can be taken as platonic or romantic🫶

Will maybe do a few more of these🌞

——-

The Wanderer

You get paired up with the Wanderer to complete a task for Nahida. You expected it to be relatively simple since he seemed to be a quiet man. Archons were you wrong. You had spend the whole day arguing over minute details. Currently it was calligraphy.

“What are you doing?!” He shouted, as if you were burning his notes.

“I’m writing my notes…..” You looked up at his pouting face, confused as to what you had done now.

“I’m not an idiot.” He deadpanned. “Why on Teyvat are you writing them like that?! It’s disgustingly unprofessional to join your letters up. It makes it hard for humans to understand, in fact I can’t even read these scribbles.” He ranted while examining your work.

You rolled your eyes in disbelief as his attitude. You snatched his notes, to see what his “better”alternative was.

“HA! You think this is better?” You taunted upon seeing his writing. “Why are the gaps between your letters so humongous? You can barely tell when it’s a new word or a new letter. It’s absolutely not easier to understand.” You smirked and held out his notes to him. He scoffed before roughly ripping them from your hands and stomping out of the room. You could faintly catch him grumbling as he left.

“I can’t work with them.”

Bennett

You were walking along the outskirts of Stormterrors Lair, when you saw a person about to fall from the edge of the cliff you were on. Your eyes widened as you saw they did not catch themselves. The wind surrounded you, called to your vision as you jumped after him. You released your glider as you wrapped your arms around him, slowly taking him to the ground.

“Ahh thank you so much!” His eyes become watery with gratitude. “Without you I would have been a gonner.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared up at the cliff.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

After exchanging pleasantries you find out his name is Bennett. When your new friend decided to head back home for the day, he gave you a big wave and a thumbs up before running back towards the city. You watched him go, wondering if was true what he mentioned about having bad luck. As he began to shrink into the distance you saw him get ambushed by a large group of hilichurl. You cursed the archons for giving this sweet boy such bad luck and broke out into a run to reach him him.

When you arrived he was a little beat up, but surprisingly holding his own. Scratch that, he was actually a very good fighter. But, he still needed help against such a big group. You pulled your sword from its sheath and summoned anemo. Back to back with Bennet, you spread his fire with your elemental attack.

Together, you burned the whole group in less than a minute. As you searched their remains and split the loot, you decided to voice your thoughts.

“I’ll walk you back to the city. This area is dangerous if you’re alone.” You sternly looked him in the eye. He nodded with a smile in return.

“Thanks!” As you began preparing to walk, he went back to counting his loot.

“Hey!” He called your attention back. “I finally have enough arrows to fix my sword! You sure my good luck charm.”

——-

Thank you for reading ❤️

[cloverskentwells]

ficlet: inspired by this scene from the show never have i ever

when the rule change is announced, shortly after the hunt for katniss draws a dead end and the two cannons in quick succession of each other combined with the fact that marvel never met up with them announce the very probable fact that he's dead, cato and clove are left facing one another, shocked into stillness by the news. their weapons lie discarded at their sides, gathering dirt and whatever else is lying under the arena's soil to add little dark specks among the blood. the resounding silence echoes around them in a stark contrast from claudius templesmith's booming voice that had swept the arena just seconds before.

clove recovers first - out of the two of them, she'd always considered herself the faster one - and shrinks back into a persona she's comfortable with, her default shell of biting sarcasm and scathing sharp wit wrapping around her comfortably like a blanket to a newborn. "so it looks like we're the only two left," she mutters slowly, more to herself than for cato's benefit. "and we're in the finals, apparently." cato grunts in confirmation.

"it's awesome that you made it this far," he says slowly, and she can visibly see him regaining his wits in real time, the transformation obvious in the unsubtle changes of his facial expressions - unlike her, he had no practice in carefully controlling and mastering what he allowed his face to reveal. clove observes his recovery and takes note of his surprise, which is followed by slow acceptance, and then followed by the dawning of a reality she'd accepted several seconds before him.

naturally, his irritating habit of finding every opportunity to provoke her returns with his recovered senses. it doesn't take long for him to become his typically insufferable self. gathering his weapons and approaching her with the cocky smirk she'd come to associate him with, cato continues his jab. "we'll see how it goes, clover." his large hand settles companionably on her shoulder in a friendly gesture clove decides not to punish. she also doesn't bother to protest at the term of endearment - better cato, anyways, who says it with some modicum of grudging respect and admiration, then marvel (an ally she did not at all "dearly miss") who liked to relentlessly tease her and imply that there was something going on between her and her district partner that existed under the surface of their mutual antagonism and vicious barbed-wire threats.

clove watches him walk away, probably back towards their campsite (because of course he just assumes she'll blindly follow along like he's still the leader of a pack that's mostly dead - or close to it, in peeta's case), incredulously. "what the fuck do you mean by - cato, i'm telling you 'how it'll go' right now!" in a rare moment of weakness that she isn't proud of, she hastily stumbles after him so they can walk side by side as she gets the last word. normally, clove prides herself in not putting that much effort to win a verbal battle against someone, always ready with a cutting remark, but this time he's gotten the better of her.

cato's amused chuckles only agitate her further. "it'll go bad for you! and good for me! because i'm the better tribute and we both know it, you blonde oaf!"

he comes to a stop beside her to laugh, almost hysterically. and clove can't blame him, she can only blame herself for her lame attempt to sass him.

but because she was never one for self awareness, she blames everything but her own behavior. so many factors were responsible. the stupid rule change that meant they were inextricably tied to one another, cato for making it difficult for her to contemplate a reality without his hubris and deep chuckles and strength complementing her own as they fought side by side. cato for being her only tie to home and weakening her so badly she'd begun to consider him a friend. a friend, of all things, when he was supposed to be just some competitive asshole with an ego she could easily check with a well aimed blade at a lethal area.

because he felt the need to worsen her current feeling of indignity, cato smiles down at her - fondly, with crinkling and affectionate eyes as if he has grown to enjoy her presence. like an insane person. "fine, but we can go home together now, you know."

"stop that. we're still enemies. it doesnt change anything, and you know it." she feels the need to regain distance, and fast. hide whatever is the reason for this weird sense of gratitude that claudius templesmith's announcement had drawn out of clove.

"yeah, no shit, i can't stand you," he agrees, although clove doubts his sincerity based on the impish smile he's not working too hard to cover. cato watches her glaring back at him with his arms crossed in an obvious attempt to flex, leaning casually against a tree like he's some unreasonably handsome capitol model endorsing a weird makeup product, as always too confident and assured in his sense of righteousness.

it's a fight she has no chance of winning. with a huff, clove opts to ignore him, resuming the trek to their campsite and keeping him at her back where she doesn't have to deal with visual evidence of his presence.

he laughs lightly behind her, obviously amused by her failure to one-up him. her lips twitch upwards responsively in an exasperated smile that she forcibly suppresses.

[cactiandtumbleweeds]

Demanding (Mahito x Reader)

I was challenged to write the softest Mahito I could. I might try it against at some other point but for now, enjoy this:

CW: None

~

You felt his weight against your back while waiting in line; arms slithered their way around your front and long hair cascaded over your shoulders, tickled your cheek as it fell. You laughed a little at the unexpectedness and tilted your face to the side.

“I told you it wouldn’t be long until we saw each other again.”

“You’re going to make me look insane,” you whispered, all too aware of the crowd around you – none of them could see the man leaning so heavily against you, nor hear his words.

“Why do you care? It’s not like any of these people matter to you.” Mahito brought his lips close to your ear, fully aware of the gooseflesh he caused. “And would they really be so wrong?”

You shrugged a little with your free arm. “Maybe not. I am taking to myself, after all.”

Sometimes you wondered if it could be all in your imagination – wrapped up in the arms of man nobody but yourself could see. Then again, you’d seen him interact with the world around you and you’d had to remove his hair from the shower drain frequently enough to believe he was, at the very least, real in some way.

A man jostled his way past you, making you wince. Mahito’s grip tightened, pulling you closer into him. “You don’t want to be here. You should just leave – look at how uncomfortable it makes you.”

“I can’t. A friend has work and I owe him one. He loves this idol so much; I have to get him one of those signed poster things. I won’t be long.”

“Well, rather than wait here for ages, you can steal one off somebody leaving.”

You shook your head though the warmth of his voice when he lowered it always managed to pull a smile from your lips. “You’re an awful influence, do you know that?”

He chuckled. “I’m not. Who decides if something is bad or not anyway?”

“Stealing is wrong?”

“Accourding to who?”

“Me.”

He sighed dramatically as though you could actually stop him from doing something. How does one explain the concept of right and wrong to a creature whose entire life spoke of the latter. Something abnormal formed from the hatred pulsing between people.

Yet still a being you allowed to drape himself over your shoulders and whisper awful into your ears with no complaint. Maybe he really had a point about your sanity.

You leaned back against him, trying to make sure you didn’t appear strange as you did so. He played with the hem of your shirt, chilled fingers slipping beneath to the skin there.

“I was busy thinking while you were away,” he hummed. “And I’ve decided what I want to transfigure you into. You would do so well.”

“Really?”

The teasing brush of his fingers turned to a full palm, pressed flush to your hip bone. “Yes. I want to carry you around with me all the time so I’m going shrink you all the way down. Then I’d never have to worry about where you are.”

Your pulse quickened a little at the treat but instead of moving away, you shifted your weight and pushed against his hand. If he’d been human, you would have worried about his circulation. No matter what you did, he never warmed up.

“I think if you wanted to, you would have transfigured me already.”

“What if I only decided that I wanted to do it today? Imagine how all these people would scream when they noticed.”

“Then do it. If you really want to.”

He chuckled and thought about it for a few seconds. Several very drawn-out seconds where you wondered whether or not you trusted the curse enough.

And then he laughed, soft and low in your ear. He released the press against your side and went back to tracing circles over your waist. “Maybe not yet. I want to find a way to keep your pretty face intact first. I like looking at you too much.”

“Well, the best way to do that is leave me in my human form.”

He pressed a small kiss against the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “But you’d be so cute, you know. And you’d be even better than any other I’ve ever made.”

“It’s so sad you’ll never get to see me that way then.”

“I could.”

“You won’t.”

It may be arrogant of you but the confidence you’d gained around the curse grew with each passing day. Maybe it would lead to your death eventually but maybe… just maybe it would be worth it in some way.

After all, you couldn’t say Mahito’s company or attentions were unwelcome.

The line continued to move forward and you a step, practically dragging the curse behind you.

“Why are you hanging off me?”

“I want you to carry me.”

“I can’t. Not now at least.”

The man standing in front of you turned slightly, frowning over his shoulder. You made a vague gesture, pretending to tap a non-existent earphone as an explanation. One day, you should buy an actual one to excuse how often you speak to yourself.

It got embarrassing to be stared at.

Mahito sighed dramatically. “How boring.”

“I know. The waiting in line thing is awful which is why I didn’t invite you in the first place. I knew you’d be done after a few seconds.”

“Then let’s just go home and do something more fun. Look, I’ve already got what you needed.”

You turned, confused to see a third appendage wrap around your waist, holding a signed poster before you. Mahito’s pride smile only grew.

“Who did you steal that from?”

“Somebody who’s already long gone. Come on, we can just go back to the house and do something fun.” His eyes danced with excitement and you sighed, unable to deny him anything when he looked up at you from beneath lowered lashes.

“Fine, but it’s still not right.”

“Mm, if you say so.”