#but i decided to pick other because i more often tend to put on twitch streams in the background

[cringecannon]

I’m obsessed with the idea of there being some Normal Person ™️ who was kind to Astarion when he was a vampire spawn that maybe he’s a little unhealthily obsessed with. Maybe they’re a bartender at one of the establishments where he picked up victims for Cazador, maybe a seamstress who gave him thread for his embroidery or to patch up his clothing, maybe just someone who had kind words for him and didn’t try to hit on him, who knows? But it would be verrrrrry interesting to see an Ascendant Astarion encountering that Normal Person again, maybe deciding to “reward” them for being kind to him when he was nothing. Though I’m not sure if his idea of a reward would be what they would consider a reward….

(Also as an aside, I love your writing! I check your blog daily and my friends and I are constantly sending each other your Gortash and Astarion posts like “wake up, babe, new cringecannon dropped”)

He wasn't entirely sure why he was so enamored with you. To put it bluntly, you were just so... plain. Unassuming. Normal. Sure, you were nice. Plenty of people were nice to him though, and he didn't spare them a second thought. He watches you over the chalice of wine in his hand, seated in a dark corner of the bar.

Dark eyes follow the movement of your fingers as you carefully flip the page of whatever book you're reading. He glances up to your mouth, memorizing the twitch of your lip as you half-smile at some thought. Vanity rears it's head. You must be thinking of him. You had spoken to him for maybe a minute, one transaction out of hundreds, but how often did you get to see a face as pretty as his?

Not often, he hopes. A bolt of insecurity cuts through him. He feels pathetic, desperate. It sickens him. He could take anyone in this tavern home with him, and he's not going to sit around and let you make him feel inferior. His eyes settle on some pretty thing sitting alone at the bar and takes his wine with him, swaying over to his mark. Out of the corner of his eye, he tries to see if you're watching. You're not, staring down at your book like it's the most important thing in the room. He refuses to let you deflate his ego. His master wouldn't want you anyway. He'll waste no more time obsessing over some boring nobody.

He does, though. Watching you becomes a treat for him. Speaking with you when he shops becomes a whole event. The last time he saw you, you'd finally started to recognize him. A warm smile lit up your face as you reached for the exact kind of thread he always comes in for. It was fate, of course, that he'd be abducted the next day.

That first night in camp he wonders if you'll miss him. If you'd think about him as fondly as he thinks of you. Reality crashes in, and the fact that you probably won't is bittersweet. He had been playing a dangerous game with you. Any closer, and Cazador probably would have found out. You'd have been just another thing to take away from him. It was safer this way.

He doesn't think about you much after that. Facing death everyday tends to do that.

It's not until Cazador's blood has long since dried on his hands that he thinks of you. He washes his skin absentmindedly, trying to remember all that he could about you. It wasn't much, honestly. He didn't know your name, but he knew the kind of books you liked to read and the way your eyes shined when your hand touched his when he paid for his thread. It was a start. No one else in camp had kept his attention long. He needs someone to sit by his side and look good for all eternity, and you'd do just fine.

That settles it, in his mind. When the elder brain business is over, he'll start courting you. He thinks he should start by buying the shop you work in. Get rid of the owner somehow, and then he'll give it to you. Once you fall for him (and you will, because you're just too perfect to be so ungrateful after receiving such a thoughtful gift), he'll invite you to live in his new manor. If you're a bit more stubborn, it won't matter. He's not yet sure what hovel you live in, but he's sure you'll appreciate the upgrade.

He sits up a little taller, a small smile on his face as he dries his hands. Should he make you his spawn before he marries you, or after? On one hand, it'd be the perfect way to start the honeymoon. On the other, if he turns you early your cooperation would be guaranteed. He hums to himself. Decisions, decisions. Honestly, it's too soon to worry about it. He has the rest of his everlasting life to woo you. No point stressing over it now.

[elysianslove]

eHm can you pls write some fluffy iwaizumi mini hcs?

can i ever,,, ugh yes. suna’s version here! 

↬ when the two of you first started dating, iwaizumi didn’t kiss you for a very long time. at first it seemed like he was just hesitant, or being respectful, trying to let you set the pace for intimacy instead. he admitted later to you, though, that he hadn’t had his first kiss yet, and it wasn’t that he wasn’t sure about sharing it with you, it was more that he was so sure that he wanted you to be his first that he couldn’t afford any mess up. he was shy. to his relief, you didn’t rush him at all, and instead found different ways to show your affection to him. 

↬ which leads to my point of iwaizumi adoring cheek kisses. for a good couple of months, you still hadn’t shared your first kiss, so you resorted to similar displays of affection, like cheek kisses. he found himself so comfortable with the feel of you reaching up, leaning on his shoulder with both hands as you press a kiss to his cheek. it’s his favorite public display of affection. because of its significance (in relation to your respect towards him, and the fact that you’d gone out of your way to find different ways to show your affection), cheek kisses hold a special place in his heart. nothing makes his heart beat as fast as when you grab his jaw in a fit of happiness and press a long, wet kiss on his cheek. against all odds, it makes him smile a smile unlike any other, and the blush that taints his cheeks and spreads along his nose and to the tips of his ears is a gift on its own. 

↬ wait that reminds me!! iwaizumi cannot lie, like whatsoever. if it’s very, very necessary, like to protect his friends or to cover for them or to protect a surprise planned, then maybe. but otherwise, he’s very obvious. now it’s more obvious to people closer to him than others, because if you focus enough, his ears tend to twitch a little when he’s lying, and it’s literally the cutest thing ever. because he’ll have this very serious face on, trying to spew out a lie, and then his ears twitch and he’s done for. 

↬ iwaizumi is a really good gift giver, because no one pays attention the way he does. and even if he barely knows anything about the person, he somehow can pick out something they like very well. his gifts tend to be more sentimental, and when it comes to receiving, he’s so bad at — saying thank you? at receiving them? he just gets all red and fidgety and starts saying things like, “you really shouldn’t have,” and, “why would you spend your money on me?” please someone sugar mama/daddy him.

↬ it doesn’t matter if you can drive or not, iwaizumi will never ever let you. he insists on driving, no matter how tired he is. he always plays your favorite music, and he talks to you the whole ride. like he loves to have you leaning close to him on your elbow, chin tucked in your palm, and the two of you are just chatting. 

↬ which leads me to this: iwaizumi loves your voice. he can hear you talk for hours, genuinely. maybe it stems from the fact that he prefers to listen, but really, you can find him at any point in time, at any hour of the day, listening to you speak. he loves to come home to you and listen to you tell him about your day as you two eat, or calling you in the middle of the day just to check in on each other, or having you send him voice notes instead of text messages, or videos instead of pictures. he just loves to hear you, in general. it genuinely elicits this really warm feeling in his chest that he can never get enough of. 

↬ if you wear makeup often, iwaizumi loves to take it off for you. he spends a lot of time watching you when you’re both doing your nightly routines, so at some point, he just asks if he can do it for you instead. he wants to practice, he says, so that one day you can leave it completely up to him. he finds it so intimate, the vulnerability and trust of it all. he’s seen you without makeup, of course, and he thinks you’re really beautiful with and without it, but there’s nothing purer to his heart than the trust you put in him to let him take your makeup off for you. he’s really gentle at first, because there’s this irrational fear that he’s gonna hurt you somehow. if you wear fake lashes, he literally winces as he takes them off it’s adorable. but after he’s wiped it all off, and grabs a damp towel to wash off the excess and the residue, he just leans over and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose or to your lips and smiles softly. 

↬ iwaizumi is a sucker for the little domestic moments the two of you share. it literally might be his favorite thing ever. like the two of you washing the dishes together, you’re cleaning and he’s drying? or doing the laundry together? or cleaning up your messy room together, and each of you grab the ends of the blanket and lift it up to spread it over the mattress neatly? or grocery shopping together, with him trying to ignore the incredibly unhealthy choices you’ve decided to toss into the shopping cart? or him passing by your work as he comes home from his to take the two of you together? or renovating your home together, and you’re covered in paint and dust? or ordering breakfast as you lay in bed because you’re too lazy, and then eating said breakfast still in bed because you’re still lazy? or the way you walk into the bathroom while he showers to wash your face and brush your teeth and the two of you just talk? or the random pictures you send him throughout the day, maybe of a weird cloud or a pretty sunset, with a little smiley face after? or the way his family loves you, so much? the way his mother personally texts you to check in on you, to tell you to come over, to just catch up? because you’re a part of the family now? 

in conclusion, hajime wants to marry you. 

↬ he loves building things for you. like iwaizumi loves the way you just hand him the instruction manual exasperated, and he just sighs with a grin and sits by you. he’s so good at it too! and he always does it shirtless too. it’s mostly for your viewing pleasure :) 

↬ when you two go on vacation, iwaizumi’s  always setting rules like “we need to be up by 7 am to enjoy the day” and sets alarms and all, but sleeps through all of them. you end up the only one awake. he’s just on vacation mode <//3 

↬ always puts your phone in the charger if you forget before you sleep. 

↬ iwaizumi becomes cuddlier after he falls asleep. like he lets you cuddle up to him as you’re both falling asleep, but when you wake up before him, you literally won’t be able to get up, because he’s going to be half on top of you. and if you try to wake him up, he just sticks more to you. it’s so endearing, really it is, because he looks so adorable with his cheek squished to your chest like that, and his mouth slightly parted. not when it’s a battle between you and your bladder though </3

↬ loves wearing your thighs as ear muffs. like iwaizumi adores just having you lay there, and him coming around to lay between your legs, slinging them over his shoulders and locking your ankles. can literally lay there for hours. 

↬ if you ask for socks because your feet are cold, he’ll give you his. don’t ask him why he just does. 

↬ loves to hug you after a very long day. like he just groups you in his arms and holds you there as you go, “long day?” and he replies, “yeah.” then he asks, “long day?” and you go, “yeah.” and the two of you just stand there for a while, before he kisses the top of your head and leads the two of you to get into comfier clothes. 

↬ he prefers showering with you over baths, just cause he likes to get on his knees as you’re scrubbing at his hair and kissing your tummy. he doesn’t know why he loves it as much but he does, especially the way you laugh after. it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love baths as well, especially if he’s extremely tired. there is the issue of convincing him to get out, but just drain the water and watch the goosebumps raid his skin and he’ll leave. 

↬ loves it when you sit on his lap when you’re in public, especially in gatherings with a lot of his friends. he doesn’t do it out of possessiveness or jealousy, he just likes it when you’re so open and comfortable about everyone knowing you’re with him, as his partner and significant other. nothing having to do with insecurity either. he just loves it. loves the way you lean into him, and the way your waist feels against his hand, and the way you talk in slightly hushed tones to each other. 

↬ basically, when iwaizumi loves, he loves with his entire heart <3 

this literally made my entire day, i loved writing these so much. iwa has such a special place in my heart i love him so much <333 also i hope everyone enjoys these as well; love you all, mwah <333 

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑆/𝑂'𝑠 '𝐶𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝐾𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑜𝑢' 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong was busy scribbling away on his notebook that he didn't even notice that you had set up a camera to face him in the studio. Giving a thumbs up to the screen, you tiptoed over to where he sat. Crouching down, you wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek. He didn't really react so you leaned in and kissed his nose, this time a small smile formed on his lips.

"Ok. Ok. Come here." He pushed his chair backwards and placed you on his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist.

He thought you just wanted to sit on his lap while he worked, but instead he got you placing kisses all over his face, which made it impossible for him to concentrate, especially when your lips were so soft and warm.

"Baby." He whined as you smushed your lips onto his.

"Hmmm?" You hummed as you continued to kiss him.

"I'm trying to finish.." He told you but still made no effort to move you, instead he just lazily kissed you back.

You chuckled against his lips.

"Ok then..." You pulled back slowly and stood up to get off him.

"Wait! No! Come back!"

In an instant, Hongjoong made you straddle his lap again, his hands cupping the sides of your face as he began kissing you again. He just couldn't stop after you made him crave some smooches.

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

All throughout the day, you had been pecking Seonghwa's lips whenever you got the chance. He didn't notice anything off about it, you were always affectionate with each other and he himself tended to be kissing you randomly.

He started to suspect something was up though when you were helping him with his sit ups. Every time he came up, you purposefully kissed him, making him lose count or get distracted. He just giggled though and thought you were being playful or to motivate him in his workouts.

So when you two were cuddling, he started to do the same to you: he began randomly kissing you, making you a blushing mess.

"Seonghwa!" You squeaked when he began kissing down your neck.

"What? You've been like this all day, but when I do it, you get shy?" He shook his head.

That's when you bursted out laughing and began explaining to him what was going on. He became embarrassed and began laughing.

"Here I thought I made you fall in love with me more and that's why you were so lovey dovey." He confessed awkwardly.

You smile and leaned in to kiss him again.

"There's no way I could possibly fall more in love with you than what I already am."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Yunho was already excited at the thought of getting to spend time with you after endless promotions. He had missed you so much and craved your affection that he obviously didn't find it weird that you were peppering him with kisses when you met up.

"Oh my god. Baby did you miss me that much?" He teased you even though he had missed you a lot as well.

You two went out and did all sorts of things: go to an arcade, take a walk in the park, got lunch somewhere and eventually went back to your place to watch some movies. All throughout this, Yunho had not really noticed that you were kissing him more than usual.

Sensing that he wasn't really reacting, you decided to try something. Throughout the entire movie, you began kissing different parts of his face almost every 15 seconds. At first Yunho just smiled and would mutter something about you being cute.

Then suddenly, after you kissed his neck for 4 times in a row, he stopped and looked at you with a serious look.

"I hope you're willing to take responsibility for your actions."

He shocked you when he tackled you onto the couch, trapping you in his arms as he aggressively kissed your cheeks and neck. You writhed your body as you tried to get out, but Yunho wasn't having it.

"You can't just keep kissing me and showering me with affection and not expect me to retaliate Y/N! This is war!" He chuckled as he kept attacking you with kisses.

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

You truly weren't sure how to go about this. Yeosang wasn't particularly fond of PDA and wouldn't often initiate affection. Still, you wanted to see how he would react....if he even reacted at all.

You started off by linking hands with him as you walked by the streets, he didn't seem to mind, even putting your hands inside his coat pocket to keep them warm. Going in for the kill, you pecked his cheek. He stopped in his tracks for a split second but then continued on as if nothing happened, only noticeable difference was the blush on his cheeks and ears. You tried doing that several more times and succeeded in 4 of them, but the rest Yeosang ended up avoiding.

You honestly felt disappointed. Sure Yeosang was shy, but you never thought he'd reject your affection so coldly. So you decided to give up and just sat there quietly next to him on the bed as he read one of his many novels, his hand squeezing yours every now and then. Feeling a little brave and wanting to try it one last time, you leaned in and placed 3 kisses to his temple. Yeosang paused before closing his book. After he set it down, he turned to look at you, sighing as he stared deep in your eyes. You were about to apologize but then he surprised you by pulling you into a soft and romantic kiss.

He only pulled back to whisper against your lips:

"You have no idea how long I've been holding back." before proceeding to kiss you again.

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

You already pictured how the challenge might end up, you knew your boyfriend so well. As expected, every time you placed a kiss on any part of his face, he'd return the favor. And the more kisses you were giving him, the more he clung onto you.

Soon, it was he who was placing more and more kisses on you that you almost forgot you were supposed to be the one doing the kissing.

"Seriously baby? What has gotten into you?" San asked you rather amused when you crawled into his lap and intensified the amount of kisses you were giving him.

"Don't." Kiss. "Know." Kiss. "Want." Kiss. "Kissies." You responded with kisses in between your words.

San chuckled at how cute you were.

"Well....seems to me like someone is being needy."

He flipped your positions so he was now hovering above you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Do you want some help?"

Attaching his lips to your neck, San began nibbling on all your sensitive spots, making you get flustered as you tried to push him off.

"San! Wait! It was only a challenge!" You exclaimed, letting out a tiny moan when he bit down on a particular spot.

"You think that's gonna stop me?" He smirked at you.

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

"Baby? What do you think of this one?"

Mingi only got a kiss in response to his question. He blushed slightly and put the red sweater back.

"That's the 4th time you've done that." He pointed out.

"Done what?" You feigned ignorance.

"Kissed me out of nowhere." He explained.

You merely mumbled something and went back to looking through the clothes on the rack. Mingi was confused though, not knowing what was going on. Were you trying to tell him something? Were you mad at him? Did he do something wrong? Was this payback? He was so lost.

He just decided to see what else you'd do and indeed, you kept pecking his lips at random times that left him baffled and somehow wanting more. Now whenever you started leaning in, he'd cup your chin and kiss you back. He began thinking that maybe he'd been neglecting you and you wanted extra love. So when you guys got back home, the first thing he did was pick you up and carry you to the bedroom as he kissed you all over your face.

"Ok we're home now. So let me love you and adore you like the little baby you are." He cooed at you as he tangled his legs and arms all around your body.

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

You were frustrated. At first, everything was going fine. Wooyoung became shook every time you planted a kiss on his lips at random times, sometimes blushing. But now? He was evading your kisses.

"Oh look! Mail's here!" He exclaimed as he walked away from you before you could even lean into his face.

It seemed like he was doing it on purpose. So you tried something.

"Woo? Can you get this thing down for me?" You pointed to one of the cabinets in the kitchen.

Sighing, Wooyoung abandoned his task of washing fruits to go help you out.

"Shorty." He snorted as he got down the box of pretzels for you.

You grinned at him. "Thank you my handsome and tall boy-"

You were cut off because he placed the box in front of your face when you tried to yet again kiss him. He began laughing at your frowning face.

"You're so mean! All I want is to kiss you!" You huffed.

"Oh really? You sure it's not for your vlog?" He raised an eyebrow at you.

You widened your eyes at him, wondering how he knew when he continued.

"You're not very discreet baby. And besides, I'm always the one initiating kisses. That was the first clue something was up."

You had to give it to him: he is smarter than what you gave him credit for.

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

You decided to start early, knowing it'd be a lot cuter to catch his reaction if he was still half asleep. You cuddled up next to his sleeping body, sifts snores coming out of his nose. You brushed your nose against his cheek before pressing a soft kiss on his skin. He didn't move.

Pouting, you moved him slightly, making him groan softly. Hovering on top of him, you began pecking his lips repeatedly. At first, Jongho only twitched the corners of his lips and then he started giggling softly.

"5 more minutes baby cakes. And then I'll play with you." He whined softly.

You started humming, making it seem like you'd let him have his 5 minutes, but one minute passed and you began kissing his lips again. Jongho groaned, repeating that he was tired. You began to kiss his shoulders and when he shuffled his body, you ended up kissing his neck, more specifically, right on his mole, where he was particularly sensitive in.

Jongho's eyes shut wide open, startling you and further scaring you when he flipped you in the blink of an eye and pinned you down on the bed.

"Ok. My turn."

He was definitely awake now.

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[colossal-fallout]

[ Classified ]

The full report - Eren Yeager

The following report details all information on Eren Yeager. Contains NSFW content and reader must be over the age of 18 to view this document.

For your eyes only.

Name: Eren Yeager

Birthplace: Shiganshina

Height: 180cm / 5ft 9"

General

[ A1 ]

Appearance & Hygiene practices:

Eren's chestnut brown hair is always clean and fresh. Whenever he pays you a late night visit, he'll have most probably just gotten out of the shower. Coconut scented shampoo of sorts? Whatever it is, it smells so good.

Prefers showers over a bathe. He says it's to save time, but he spends a good 40 - 60 minutes in there, easily.

Once he's dry, likes to throw on jogger bottoms and a hoodie over his bare skin. His bare skin that is now so soft and scented as his favourite shower gel which is either tea-tree oil or Coconut.

If he wants to remain clean shaven, Eren must shave every 2-3 days. Sometimes he likes to grow it out but nothing ever past a long stubble.

Minimal body hair.

Trims the hairs on his pubic bone/lower stomach. Has pleasuring you in mind as he does so. Will take into consideration the friction against you.

Totally clean shaven testicles.

Eren's nails are short but that's because he bites them. [ see section A3 ]

Beautiful set of teeth. Brushes twice daily in a modern AU.

Eren adores it when you brush his hair for him. He finds it extremely relaxing as you massage his scalp. His eyes will close and a small, barely audible hum will emit from time to time.

Eren's skin care routine is pretty basic. All of the steam from sitting in his hot, frequent showers for so long seems to do him wonders - his skin is flawless and worthy of envy.

Due to the healing power of being a Titan shifter, Eren has no scars.

Eren has quite large hands with long fingers. He doesn't wear rings or jewellery as it reminds him of the burden of when he had to keep that damn key on him at all times. Will however, put up with a wedding ring.

[A2]

Body & Love language:

Eren is a pretty introverted person. His hands are usually tucked away inside of his pockets - be it either trousers or hoody/jacket.

He hunches a little too. Likes to feel hidden. He's had enough attention over the years and wants nothing more than to just shrink away in a crowded room. Or maybe, it's the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Brooding, moody exterior. Extreme "resting bitch face"

Shrugs a lot. At first glance, you'd think he was a moody teenager trapped in a grown man's body.

Likes to sit with his feet flat up on the chair with his knees splayed - you'll usually find him like this with an arm resting over a knee while the other is at a 90 degree angle pointing away from his hip.

Fumbles his hands together in formal occasions when he can't sit so casually or tuck them away.

Likes to drape his arm over you without touching you. His arm will rest above you on the top of the chair. A clear indication of "They're mine" and "I will keep you safe"

His hips will usually be swivelled in your direction, regardless of where you are in the room. A subconscious body language of sexual yearning.

Eren likes to hold hands with you when you're walking. He's not huge on PDA but likes the strong yet subtle showings that you're together.

Tends to rub his thumb over the back of your hand absent-mindedly when you do so.

His love languages include physical touch. Can get very needy and touch starved pretty easily. Not in a overbearing way, but even just a run of his slender fingers through your hair is enough to keep him going until the two of you are in a more private setting.

[A3]

Bad Habits & Tendencies:

As mentioned above, Eren bites his finger nails. His toe nails too. It's pretty gross to be honest.

He never does it in public, but he has been known to do it in front of you when he feels comfortable enough to do so.

Get's very fidgety when irritated or annoyed, which is pretty often. Especially if Jean is around.

Short temper. He's learned to tame it more over the years where he doesn't show it so easily. But everyone has their limit and when his is reached, his yell is booming and pretty intimidating.

During an argument with you he has been known to raise his voice, but it's not the frightening roar you've heard him unleash on others before.

Always apologises to you after he's calmed down. Even though it wasn't that bad.

If you two ever have a bad falling out, will lock himself away for days. He'll be pissed at himself for letting it get so bad and depressed that you two are having such problems. But he'll do anything he can to fix it.

[ A4 ]

Common misconceptions:

Obviously everyone has their own cannons and opinions. But I don't personally see Eren as being an abusive partner. Yeah, he has his problems and treats his friends like shit but there's a reason for that we'll probably see in the last chapter. If you're worthy enough to pierce that cold and distant shell, you're a very special person and he'll treat you as such.

Eren actually has a large heart hidden under that huge chip on his shoulder. He cares and loves the people around him unconditionally. Even to the point of carrying out mass genocide to protect them.

Still... He does have a dark side to be weary of at times.

Even though he's gross while in Liberio, usually Eren is actually pretty clean.

[ A5 ]

Food & Drink:

In a Modern AU Eren loves fancy coffees with the weird names. The longer to pronounce, the better. He just likes the fact they give him energy and the fancier ones taste good.

Due to not having meat for so long, a good ol' fashioned beef/lamb stew is his favourite.

Doesn't drink in canon.

Modern AU, his alcoholic beverage of choice is bottles of beer and craft ales. Sometimes is a sucker for red wine.

[ A6 ]

Modern Au:

Eren wears loose clothing. Hoodies, loose jeans, those baggy cardigans too.

His texting style is spam over one long message. Especially if he's pissed off. He's too impatient to sit and type in paragraphs.

Drives a black car. Don't ask me what type, I don't know cars. But it's black, 'kay?

It also has "black ice" air freshener inside.

Likes to ride quads and mopeds along fields. He's a thrill seeker. Rollercoasters, bungee jumping... you name it he's game.

Eren plays the guitar. He took lessons for it but after about a year he just went his own way and self-taught.

If he sees a guitar at a party, he will pick it up and play it. He won't sing though.

He actually hates singing. He finds it embarrassing.

Always has in his air pods/earphones.

Likes any sort of music that is catchy.

Probably streams on Twitch. He won't talk much though.

Could have a wide range of jobs. Coffee shop, could be in college, might be a ride attendant... who knows? It's anyone's guess what Eren is doing. He doesn't talk about himself that much.

Romance & NSFW

[ B1 ]

Crush:

Eren would definitely be in denial he has a crush on you at first.

• “Does y/n seem different to you?”

Armin; “No…? In what way?”

“I dunno… Just, different.”

• His poor stubborn brain would be ticking for weeks as to why he suddenly wants to be near you a lot more often and has urges to touch you, even if it’s just a slight brush against your arm.

• Will find any excuse to do extra training with you

• Once he FINALLY clicks on as to why he’s had these feelings, he’ll be pretty knocked off his feet and a little annoyed at himself.

I’m here to kill the enemy...

• Still though… Can’t seem to keep himself away.

[ B2 ]

First kiss & general kisses:

After the initial denial and keeping himself away, he'll just decide one day he's had enough of feeling this way and decides to to something about it.

He won't shove himself onto you. He'll do some sly probing to see if there is any indication of reciprocation.

Knowing Eren, he'll indirectly piss you off or insult you. He didn't mean to. He's just lacking social skills. Man aint smooth.

You'll slap him, probably, where he'll keep his head away from you for a few seconds, realising he's pushed you too far. Whichever side you palmed him away, he'll stay.

He'll slowly return his gaze to yours before gently holding your arms, apologising and planting his lips onto yours.

His general kisses are quite firm and forceful. Not in an aggressive way, but a "god I want you so bad" way.

Always either slides his arms around your waist or cups your face/head.

He tastes like sweetened tea <3 / Coffee in a Modern AU

Loves coming from behind and snaking his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck when you're doing something. Doesn't like it when your attention is away from him for too long.

When he's feeling soft and tender, will dance his nose with yours and catching your mouth in a caress.

When he's super turned on, he'll suck your tongue, bite your bottom lip and kiss anywhere he can.

[ B3 ]

Sex:

Ha ~~!

Eren is up there with the best when it comes to sex. He knows what he's doing and he does it well.

Extremely skilled with his fingers and tongue. He'll have you crawling the walls with hysteria as he likes to tease you throughout the day. He more than makes up for it, though.

Gropes, nips, kisses, licks, bites, flicks... anywhere and everywhere he can.

Is the most vocal when you perform oral sex on him. Will groan so deeply, his entire body will vibrate.

Dirty talk is this man's second language.

"Look how desperate you are for me." / "Look how desperate for you you've gotten me..."

"Do I feel good like this?"

"Am I making you feel good baby?"

"You're so good at that. Fuck, such a good girl/boy"

"S'so fuckin' tight."

"You're my little fuck thing, aren't you?"

"You're perfect."

"I love you..."

Are some of the many things you'll hear while he's fucking you.

He doesn't really have a favourite position. He'll gladly take you anyway he can. If he's in a rough mood, he'll bend you over the sofa, take you up against the wall... But if he's feeling more soft he'll make slow, passionate love to you for hours.

He does have a strong soft side at times.

Dominic Dominant. He loves seeing you totally at his mercy, the power over you the most arousing thing in the world to him.

Big daddy dilf vibes. He knows what he’s doing and he’s fucking good at it too.

The only time he’ll sub is if he wants to be lazy - letting you ride him and use him to your heart’s content.

Dirty talk. It can get pretty degrading at times. If you’re not into that, he respects that boundary.

Will absolutely ruin you.

Low-key loves it when you claw his back in hysteria. He thrives knowing he can send you absolutely insane, and he can just heal the claw marks in a matter of seconds. Sometimes even during sex (which is the hottest thing ever)

In an AU modern, he would love to fuck you near a large mirror or record you both getting at it to watch at a later date.

A lot of hissing, humming and low groaning, especially when he’s close to unloading.

Likes to watch you masturbate, putting his head close and observing intently. Loses his shit if you moan his name while doing so.

Hair pulling is his overload language. Will tug fistfuls when he gets too turned on.

[ B4 ]

Kinks:

The risk of getting caught. He likes having risky sex in semi public locations. Makes a game of how loud he can get you to moan, knowing someone would probably hear you.

Light Degradation. When he’s in a rough mood, he doesn’t mind calling you a few names. Nothing too extreme. And if it’s not your thing, he’ll respect that boundary.

Loves a good ol’ 69. Having you on his face with your ass in view is just… *Chef’s kiss*

Speaking of ass, he loves to bend you over too, allowing himself in nice and deep with a great view and something Juicy to grab.

[ B5 ]

Aftercare:

Aftercare with Eren isn’t anything special unfortunately. He’s another who gets sleepy after sex.

Won’t ignore you though. Often lazy pillow talk is on the cards and telling you how much you mean to him and how beautiful you are.

Will run his fingers across your scalp to soothe you.

Also will kiss any bite marks or finger bruises he’s left behind and ask if you’re okay.

Relationship with loved ones & becoming serious

[ C1 ]

Friends & Family:

When Eren meet's your friends family he will be polite yet quiet. He wants them to like him but he won't pine for their approval. If they like him, awesome. If they don't...? No big deal.

Same goes with your friends. He'll stay quiet until spoken to at first, but once he's been eased into conversation, he'll flow with it a lot easier.

Again, he'll be polite but don't expect him to kiss ass, because he certainly wont.

[ C2 ]

Marriage:

You couldn’t actually believe Eren had proposed. Although he was down on one knee in front of your very eyes, your mind just wasn’t accepting it. Folks and onlookers watched with bated breath, awaiting your answer. He sure kept this surprise hidden well…

Of course, you said yes and he picked you up by your waist in a spin, colliding his lips to yours.

And now here he was, watching you walk down the aisle, a lump in his throat and his heart racing.

You looked gorgeous, like something from a fairy tale.

And of course, he looked as handsome as ever. His suit was smart and his hair was up in its usual bun.

Armin is his best man, of course; who is standing and beaming with pride.

Eren holds back his chokes and tears as he reads his vows;

“Y/N… From the first time I ever laid eyes on you, all those years ago, I knew you would be in my life forever. Back then, I didn’t think it would be as my wife, but God I am so glad it is. I’m sorry for my stubbornness and irrational behaviour when we were young. But despite that you still loved, and stood by me and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. I vow to always stand beside you, whatever the world throws at us. I vow to hold you when you need support. I vow to remember how you always had my back no matter what. And I vow to always love you, with my heart and soul, until the day I die and after.”

The room erupts in cheers and tears when you seal your kiss.

The reception is wild.

Everyone is drunk (except Levi) and dancing. Reiner and Connie are dancing like weirdos, Reiner's blazer removed and at one point Connie is on his shoulders.

Sasha has too much to drink and is spewing in the bathroom.

Mikasa can’t stop crying with happiness and pride.

He carries you to your room afterwards where you spend all night sealing a special bond that will never be broken.

[ C3 ]

Children:

Eren has a soft spot for children, believe it or not. As seen before the expedition to the forest of giant trees. He sees his old self behind the innocent glint of unaltered admiration within a child's eyes.

He's not super into child play though. He wont pull weird voices or funny faces. He'll sit at their level and speak to them like they were anyone else. Obviously, watching what he says around them.

If they're unchecked and acting themselves, he'll become quickly annoyed as they wreck havoc around him and will have to leave the room or he'll get too agitated.

If his s/o discovers they're pregnant he'll seem to take it well. But inside he's falling apart and freaking out. He won't ever show it to them, but he doesn't know how he could be a father. Would he be like his own? Would he be able to be a good figure to look up to? What if he fails? Is it selfish to bring a child into this cruel world?

He'll be shocked but understandably so. After after a couple of weeks of self-reflection and brooding, he'll start to feel better about the whole thing.

More protective over his s/o than usual. Will make sure they're eating, drinking, resting and god help you if he finds you doing something you shouldn't such as trying to lift something heavy.

Will hold your hair and rub you back, as well as bring you water while you're having your morning sickness.

"Babe? It's four in the afternoon. How come you're still sick?"

"Eren, it's called morning sickness but it can happen any time."

He'll click his tongue. "....That's a dumb name, then."

The first time he feels the baby kick within you, his heart absolutely melts. His eyes enlarge and you could swear you saw them soften with that spark behind his emerald greens he had when you were younger.

His large palm is warm against your stomach as he feels around, the little flutter of your child hitting against his skin making him flinch in surprise at first.

"Woah..." He'll gasp in amazement. "They're already so strong. Hey, y/n? Doesn't that hurt?"

"Sometimes." You'll laugh softly.

He'll gingerly place his face to your skin, a little embarrassed he's doing this; but he feels the need. "...Don't hurt your mom, okay?"

As your pregnancy progresses and you get larger, he will not leave your side. If he has to, he'll be worrying and you'll be occupying his mind. In a modern au, he'll constantly call and text and will get Mikasa or Armin to check in on you often.

Will be so gentle during love making. He's terrified he'll hurt the baby.

One of the only times you've seen Eren panic in his adult life is when your waters break.

You'd gotten up in the middle of the night to pee. Climbed back into bed and felt a strange pressure, followed by a pop. Then a warm gushing sensation. You wait a few seconds to settle your own panic before you nudge Eren awake.

"Eren..."

He'll bolt up, confused. "What? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

"Eren, my waters have broken."

"Shit. Okay. Shit. What do we do? Shit." He'll leap out of bed and throw the lights on. You get to your feet where more water will start to drop onto the floor. "Shit, shit. I'll get the bag. Do you need help getting dressed? Okay, where's my jacket? WHERE'S MY JACKET?!"

"Eren, honey I need to you calm down."

"Okay, sorry. I'm calm. Shit. Shit..."

Will hold your hand with a worried look the entire time you're in labour. Has water and snacks on hand.

Will watch in amazement as your child is pushed into the world. This magical moment changes something in him, but right now he's not sure what that is.

They will bond immediately. As soon as he holds your son/daughter he can't take his wide gaze off them.

They're inseparable.

Any doubts of being a bad father is washed away as he takes them under his wing and teaches them about the world.

[yuzukult]

i’m bad too 16 || kdy & reader

title: i’m bad too - drabble series pairing: kim doyoung x reader genre: angst, fluff, smut, goodboy!doyoung, nerdy!dy (basically he’s a dork) & badgirl!reader, hitman!au, oc-isn’t-a-hitman-but-she-could-be!au, word count: 1.8k warnings: none a/n: :D hope you guys enjoy!! taglist: @wownajaemin​​​ @crescent-iak​​​ @ncttboo​​​ @byunbaekby​​​​ @jinfizz​ @doyoungyoung​ @ahgayeah0305​ @doyobun​ @sexualitaeyong @mrkleelvr​ @m1ss-foodi3​ @hcwurld​

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Doyoung looks so pretty like this.

The space between his brows are crinkled in vexation, hair unstyled and brushing against his forehead with his lips pursed while focusing on the task at hand. He’s taken the day off of his internship for this, with approval from your brother, and plus, the way his eyes are sunken and the breakouts on his skin are appearing, it seems like he deserves to chill out for a bit.

But, he seems to refuse to do that, opting that his priority is to take care of you.

Doyoung hasn’t been back to his apartment other than just to grab the necessities—his business casual attire for work, underwear, some lounge clothes, and just things here and there that might be useful. But he hasn’t slept in the comforts of his own bedroom, no, instead he’s been sleeping at your side in your room.

“Would you stop squirming?”

“Well, you could say it’s a bit weird when someone else does it for you.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Be cooperative. I’m trying to make it better.”

You puff your cheeks in agitation, stubborn because you’re not used to this much physical touch, despite the amount of times you’ve slept with Doyoung. There’s something about this that feels more intimate, not like a quick bang for pleasure, but rather he’s doing this because he cares about you.

“Steady. Just a little longer and we’ll be good.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“It has not been twenty minutes.” Doyoung isn’t that same soft boy you met months ago. He’s gotten intrepid, unabashed by any smart or sharp remarks that you throw his way, in fact, he dodges them or bites the bullet before resuming back to having you in his arms. “You think it’s been twenty minutes because you’re preoccupied with nagging about how you don’t like this happening.”

“It’s weird,” you state, tapping your fingers against the wooden frame of your bed as a distraction. You could use a cigarette, but somehow you managed to let a pretty boy like Doyoung convince you to stop. “I don’t like having people this close.”

“I’m literally just replacing your gauze.”

You frown. “It’s… intimate.” Doyoung can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at your response as he reaches for a fresh new gauze. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do, I just—”

“You won’t let your own boyfriend touch you like this?” He queries, and you’re starting to find yourself in this position often. He’d say something bold, something that he normally doesn’t do, and it leaves you feeling small like you used to do to him. Oh, how the tables have turned. He calls himself your boyfriend recently, despite not officially making it a label, but you like it. It feels… right, for once, like this is how it’s supposed to be.

“It’s not that,”

“Then you should just let me do this, yeah?” He tosses the old bandage into the trash. “Plus, we’re almost done anyways. Would you like to go on a walk after this? I kind of wanted to talk about something.”

Staying put, you inhale in a deep breath in surrender because you’re curious about what he wants to discuss. He remains focused, wrapping you once again, despite the fact that the staff at your house offers to do it since it’s their job, but Doyoung insists it’s his job as much as theirs.

After pulling your shirt down, he offers a hand, helping you transition over to your wheelchair, one you’ve grown to hate because it makes you feel helpless, and Doyoung takes you down the hall.

“There’s an elevator down the hall.”

“A what?”

“An elevator,” you reiterate, and Doyoung doesn’t move, feet rooted into the ground. “We don’t have many floors because we do have an elevator. Goes here, the lobby, basement, then the wine cellar.”

“There’s a wine cellar under your basement?”

“You don’t have one?” He knows it’s a joke, so he just shakes it off and heads over to the large metal doors. Your personality never showcases your wealth, and although he’s in your beautiful home with staff that fills up the majority of it, he still forgets the money you come from.

Naeun is still gorgeous, despite the bruises on her cheeks and the cuts that are scattered across her face.

She’s wiping her hands, after running them under the water in the sink, soaping up her previously flawless porcelain skin that’s now marked with the aftermath of another fight. “How are you feeling?”

“Could be better,” you admit, rolling around the kitchen in your wheelchair. “How are you feeling?”

“Bitchin’,” she states calmly, giving a thankful gaze in Doyoung’s direction when he slides over the first aid kit toward her. “Lover boy been takin’ care of ‘ya?”

“Wish he’d go home and take a break for once, but yeah. Good boy decided he wants to play nurse.”

“Why do you guys talk like I’m not here?”

The two of you shrug, waving him off as Naeun hops onto the granite countertop and begins tending to her own wound. “There’s been another attack,” you glare at her and Naeun only rolls her eyes. “He already knows, don’t act like he’s all innocent to this.” She dabs the remnants of blood on her lip before grabbing the disinfectant wipe. “Johnny’s dead, just so you know.”

“What? Johnny’s dead?”

“Nah, he’s undercover,” she winces at the impact of the alcohol against her open cut. “Fuck.”

You furrow your brows. “Why would you tell me that?”

“Just kidding, he’s dead.”

“Naeun,” you say sternly. She’s playing another game.

“Just kidding. I’m just testing your cognitive skills.” Searching for the neosporin, she gives a quick scoop of the ointment and applies it on. “Seeing if you can still think the same. I have a really bad itch that they’re gonna ask you to come back, love.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’m interested in,” you’re pointing to all of your gunshot wounds. “Got a couple holes in my body that are still whistling when the wind blows.” Tilting your head, you’re trying to make out the expression on her face from underneath all that hair. “What’s with that look?”

She jolts her head at you. “What look?”

“You know something.”

“Other than Johnny’s death?”

“Naeun.”

“Alright,” she sighs, leaning back against her arms. You can’t help but notice the twitch in her lip, and it’s not from her cut. “Rumor has it, they’re going to try to initiate you again. This time, maybe not so nicely.”

“Even after I went through all that trouble? In case they’ve forgotten but I literally have holes in my body. I risked my life for the guy and here I am, sitting in a wheelchair, unable to fucking take a piss by myself, and he wants me to hop back on the field again?”

“You know how he is,” Naeun says apologetically, although none of this is her fault. She’s just the middle man, the bearer of bad news, and she’s only doing her job by protecting the Boss but you’re not even directly tied to the group, just simply a contractor. “He sees your capabilities, thinks you’re more than worthy, he wants to keep you. Seeing that you’re standing in front of the bullets, taking one for the team and protecting those who are part of us… it only makes him want you more.”

“But he can’t even wait?” You exasperate, baffled by his abruptness despite the fact you were still going through a recovery period. “I’m not even ready yet.”

“Well, he’ll give you some time—”

“You’re making it sound like it’s soon.”

She looks pained. “It… It is soon. He thinks the sooner you begin training, the better. You’ll be better equipped and—”

“I thought this was supposed to be temporary,” you state, voice firm. “I mentioned prior that this was simply a gig I needed to get by.”

“This was before you caught the mole. Before you put yourself in danger, protecting the members of the organization. You proved yourself more than capable, and he wants that. He wants you. You get the job done. Why do you think we keep coming back and hiring you? Because sometimes, you don’t even need a gun. You have your fucking head and that’s the weapon.”

“Well, I need a break.”

“There is no break.”

“Naeun, I almost died. To be quite frank, I don’t give a fuck what Taeyong says. I’m taking a break.”

The sunset is breathtaking; warm hues over the horizon, shining on the Good Boy’s face and only adding on to the fact that he’s also the golden boy. Seated on the picnic blanket beside you, he’s resting his weight back on his arms, eyes closed, soaking in the sun with a soft smile upon his face, inhaling in deep breaths to soothe his nerves. “This is nice. I’m glad you suggested it.”

You hate that you have to lean against this make-shift seat, back pressed on the trunk of the tree. But it hurts so bad to sit on your own; parts of your torso require you to straighten yourself because any slight bend stings. You desperately miss being able to function on your own—it’s so embarrassing asking your boyfriend to do things for you.

“You good?” He asks, turning over his shoulder to glance at you. “I hear you wincing.”

“I’m fine,” you mutter, adjusting yourself once more. “I’m just… getting comfortable.”

Doyoung sighs, finally picking up on your personality and habits by now, so he slides himself back just a bit and extends his legs. “Come here.”

You quirk a brow. “What?”

He pats his lap. “Come here. Lay your head on my lap, and enjoy the sun with me. We can soak in the warmth, and talk about what’s on your mind. Feels like you’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and not a whole lot of talking.”

Conceding, it takes you a while but with Doyoung’s help, you’re finally laying—there’s less pain in this position, and you’re grateful he suggests it. He brushes your hair out of your face, a soft smile looking down at you that tugs on your heartstrings. “You’re probably thinking a lot.”

“I am,” he admits, pursing his lips. “Have been for a while.”

“Well… will you tell me?” You’d be lying if you said that Doyoung confessing he’s been pondering frequently doesn’t make you nervous. There’s always that possibility of him deciding that maybe this wasn’t for him—that taking care of you, learning you’re a sort of a hitman and part of some shady organization, or that your family owned the company that he worked at wasn’t… what he signed up for.

But that stupid grin doesn’t ever wipe off of his face. “What is it?”

And with a gentle voice, he says with a press of a kiss on the crown of your head, he says these words that have you levitating. “I love you.”

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Pet Owners Part 1

Owning pets is rare for nations because a true nation’s pet has a bond with their owners as much as they do the land. Many of their pets don’t really have something they represent inexactness, it's just they were there when the nation was born, and they bonded. No one can really explain how they come to find their owners, both parties just know.

Some nations don’t have the nation pet, but instead either found a mythical creature or own regular pets that will eventually die.

America – A big black shaggy dog. Allen has owned Makwa since he was a small child. No matter where he went Makwa would follow. This mini mammoth is very protective of Allen and has bitten Oliver many times. This dog has even followed Allen into war zones. Their bond is as deep as man and dog can go.

He is Allen’s best friend and more often than not the wall he bounces off of. Whether he is venting, planning, or just sleepy mumbling, Allen takes the time to talk to Makwa.

England – Flying Chocolate Bunny (FCB) and Flying Strawberry Bunny (FSB). These mythical evil bunnies are downright monsters. Unlike his 1p that has only one, Oliver has two. Both nations discovered their bunny allies together, but instead of taking just one. Oliver decided to take two. They were found when the nations were about 150 yrs old.

Since mythical creatures have longer lifespans, they aren’t nation pets and die much later than an average pet.

FCB has red beady eyes and is the color of dark chocolate. His wings are shaped more like raptor’s wings and have a white chocolate underside to his wings. FCB often twitches and drools and looks like he is about to eat the nearest piece of flesh. He is known for being wilder and more chaotic, he does some of the dirty work for Oliver by getting physically involved. Scratching and biting Oliver’s victims, slowly driving them mad by wounds made from an unseen force.

FSB on the other hand is much sweeter. She is a light red with small yellow spots. Her wings look like a swan's, and have a light green underwing. Her eyes are small beady and green. FSB looks like a toy rabbit, small and fluffy. She is Oliver’s eyes and ears. She spies on whomever Oliver asks her to and takes the time to ensure that Oliver has whatever information that he needs. When Oliver had many colonies she was the one sent to spy on them. She is quick and knows how to use magic to shorten her fly time.

Oliver loves his bunnies and feeds them a lot of cupcakes and meat. He spoils them with fancy beds and toys. Though he does expect them to earn their keep with various tasks given by him.

Canada – A big white polar bear. Kuma is Canada’s oldest frenemy, over the years they have traded blows and saved each other. The amount of trust these two have is unrivaled by any other nation and their pets. Kuma has been with Canada since he was about a week old. Kuma is a typical adult polar bear with a scar across his left shoulder and it splits his fur.

Canada’s scars on his chest come from Kuma. They got really intense in a fight one day and came at each other for blood. That same fight gave Kuma his scar. Both winded up extremely wounded and ignored each other for a week before making up.

Over the years Kuma mostly follows Matt’s orders. But occasionally Kuma acts like a brat and ignores Canada. Kuma has his own little house outside that Canada built, but he also has a huge mat on the floor inside Matt’s cabin.

Japan – Koi. Like it’s been said before, Japan likes koi. They are beautiful and he owns many. He has been keeping them since he was physically about 12 years old. He has a pond that connects to a tank within his home. It is a huge tank that has all the proper fixings that allow for a comfortable space for his fish.

He invests heavily in the industry and always checks the farms himself when he has the time. Many family farms know of Kurai, at least a fake name he puts out, and newer farms hope to receive his blessings. His name carries a lot of respect and honor for the koi industry and those that don’t meet his standards close shop quickly.

Every so often he will enter his koi in contests. He loves to know that his are the best and has many ribbons from the past ones he has either won or come close to winning.

Germany – A small brown tabby. Luther loves his tiny kitty and spends many a nap with this little baby on his lap. His little tabby is called Winzig and her name is literally her size. Winzig was found by Luther one night after making his way home after a night of drinking about a year ago. She was small and hiding under a box by his apartment. In his drunken stupor, he picked up the kitten without thinking and brought her home. She is actually his third cat.

There were two others he had owned in the past. His first was a calico that was named Schnurrhaare (Whisker). She was very aloof, but they too napped together often. She sadly died in the year 1901. His second cat Axel came to him about 1950 and was a gift from his boss. Axel was a big Mainecoon that looked like a burnt cookie. He acted more like a dog than a cat and Luther loved him. They played fetch together.

None of Luther’s cats have been a true nation pet. So, each one has passed, Winzig is still young and very lively so she has a while still with Luther. Though the other two, Luther has kept their collars and buried them behind his father’s house. He leaves little bits of string on their graves for them.

Rome – This old man had a lion. Not just any lion, the extinct European lion. Mars was the name of this old boy and Rome had him from the time he was a child. At first, Mars was unsure about Rome and chased him. Over time the two became close. Mars didn’t have a huge mane it was more of a gentle fluff around his head and down his chest. His body and head were covered in scars. Mars was known to have a light pale coated rather than the deep dusty color of many of his brethren. He had a regal air about him and Rome cherished his lion a lot.

When Rome passed Mars lived on, but not much longer than Rome. He lived about 5 years while being taken care of by Luciano. Mars being old then, didn’t do much and seemed to enjoy the calm final years that Luciano offered him. He got a bigger and cooler grave than his master did.

Prussia – Alvin is an old destrier and looks like a Percheron. Lightly colored with dark grey boots and muzzle. Alvin has been with Wil since he was born, this stocky little foal just showed up outside and has been with him ever since. Alvin has been Wil’s first pick of steed into every battle that used horses and Alvin like his owner is brave and loyal.

Both master and pet love spending nights together riding through the woods. Prussia gives Alvin lots of training and treats. They are so close that more often than not spend many afternoons together. Alvin is also trained for various horse competitions.

Spain – So we all know this man owns a bull. Idiota is special to Armando even though he won't admit it. When Armando is tending to his fields Idiota is there giving a presentation of an old friend. Many believe that Idiota is a nation pet because of how long he has lived and Spain agrees. As much as he gets angry at his bull being stupid he could never bring himself to part with the bull.

The centuries of being petty with each other make it interesting to both parties. Though in times of danger both have each other's backs. Once during a siege when Spain was young, Idiota was all that stood between him and Rome. Though despite losing, it took Rome impaling the bull and beheading it to keep it from defending a young Spaniard.

Netherland – He has a snake. It’s a simple grass snake that often hangs out with him at home. He loves his little snake and named him Hazel. He says his snake looks like a Hazel. Baas and Hazel go on many adventures when the weather is ok for Hazel. He takes him to the store, to meetings with his boss, and other places. They spend lots of time gathering info on people and just pulling pranks. Baas believes that Hazel enjoys it as much as his master.

 Hazel has a huge terrarium with plenty of space, heating lights, and pools of water. It takes up a whole wall in Baas’ home. It also contains fish and other small creatures that make the tank self-sustaining. 

Baas relates to his danger noodle; in that, he sees himself almost the same as his snake. Both are hidden predators that take care of nasty rats. Which happens to relate to his favorite thing to do with Hazel, feed him.

Austria – A Greater Mouse-Eared Bat, I mean what could be better for him. Austria found Krampus around Christmas time when he heard some noises coming from his attic. Krampus had found his way into the attic and freaked out trying to get out. This caused a tear in his wing, and Austria being surprised by this tiny nightmare.

Austria feeling the spirit of Christmas was compassionate and took care of the bat. First, he forced his way into a vet clinic and had his little Krampus looked at. Krampus's huge tear would heal, but it makes it difficult for him to fly again. That was the vet’s opinion and then went off to call a sanctuary to come and collect the bat. Well, Jon didn’t like that and ran off with Krampus.

Since then Jon has done a lot to ensure his little friend was becoming better. Eventually, the wing healed, but not well enough for flying. So Jon has a little bat that can glide short distances and has a little cave in his home. Krampus gets all the proper nutrition and cleanings.

Though shortly after bringing Krampus home, Jon did call Matt. Matt had some words for Jon when he found out what he did.

Switzerland – This man loves goat cheese, so obviously he wanted goats. He and his 1p own a small herd together that they both manage. Vash does most of the physical labor while Hans makes them look good for competition and takes care of their papers. 

They are all Swiss breeds and earn their keep by giving milk. They have a great life with all the latest things for goat care. Hans even personally watches the new items get installed to ensure that it is done right and that his goats are given something nice. 

Hans pets them often and coos to them as he does. He keeps plenty of treats on hand, to the point all the herd runs toward him wanting treats.

Iceland – Mr. Puffin or Puff as Iceland calls him. This is puffin is nothing like his gangster 1p. He wears a small top hat and monocle. He is much more gentlemanly and often speaks about how Iceland could be better behaved. He often says things like stand straight, address the lady with respect, and so on. Unlike most nations and their pets growing up at the same rate, Puff was an adult when he met baby Iceland. Which concerned 2p Norway, because he could have been some kind of monster trying to destroy his new colony. One of the few times Norway showed concern for Iceland.

Though being the typical expectation for nation pets, Iceland loves Puff. They spend time together going about and causing havoc and attempting to win Norway’s attention. Though Puff still tells Iceland that there are better things to do than pursue Norway, but Iceland wants his brother’s love and acceptance.

Puff does his best to keep Iceland under control and professional, but he fails often. Though he refuses to give up and rather would keep on taking care of his young ward.

[kiame-sama]

Hello again lovies~ We have some more story with our favorite yandere DILF!

This is how our aggressive Yandere behaved during the third pregnancy and seeing what Killua looks like for the first time. Starting with initial conception to a bit of domestic time after birth.

As we begin with 'the making of' that indicates a good moment of +18 viewers.

WARNINGS ⚠: dub-con Lemon, cute mothering moments, hormone fluctuation, SUPER CUTE (sickeningly cute) MOMENTS, intense descriptions during birth, birthing complications, domestic moments.

~~~~~~~~

It was a cold November evening, and for once you really wished your husband was present. You curled your lip at the thought of being married to the man who held you captive, but after fifteen years it became less of a concern. If anything, you were more concerned for your two sons and how little you got to see them. You were able to spend so little time with either of them and often fretted about their well-being.

The only thing that kept you going were the far and few between visits you were able to have with them. You loved your sons and would do anything for them.

But for now, you had to figure out the best way to stay warm at night since Silva had been oddly absent for a couple of days. He had done so in the past but this time he seemed to be taking longer than usual. He refused to leave you alone at any given time, so his absence was rather unsettling.

Silva actually always kept your 'cell'  cold in the evenings as it encouraged you to be more accepting of his advances. He was basically a space-heater and- though it pains you to admit- he was extremely comfortable to curl up with. But when he was absent it was punishingly cold, and it wouldn't take long for you to break out the extra blankets.

On some occasions, you would even drag your blankets to your corner since it tended to be a little bit warmer than the reset of your cell. But for now, the blankets were warming and shielded you from the cold that flowed through your room.

You were in the mental state of somewhere between awake and asleep when you heard him. The door to your cell had made an awful noise as it closed, giving the usually stealthy assassin away. You couldn't help but feel too tired to rouse yourself in response to his presence as he entered the room.

You made a small and sleepy noise when the bed dipped down as he joined you, easily sliding beneath the blankets and reaching out to you. The moment his warm hand came in contact with your cold skin, you were pressing against him. The heat that rolled off of his body was a tempting trap that you happily snuggled into, letting the warmth seep in.

He was so damn warm and comfortable pressed against you. You wanted nothing more than to just bask in that warmth and drift off into nothing when you felt his hands slowly pushing up your shirt.

Why is it always like this? Why does he always feel the need to be inside of you every time he returns?

You should be used to it by now, given the fact it has been near 15 years since you had first been taken. Still you couldn't seem to find a routine. Regardless of that fact, he was fairly consistent with what he wanted from you.

You whined when his warm hand came up to cup your breast, the feeling oddly pleasurable to your sleep fogged mind. You barely registered the feeling of your clothes being tugged off and the cold that nipped at your skin from beyond the blanket.

"No..."

Your sleepy rejection went unheard or unnoticed by the man above you, his lips descending to your neck. You felt the faint pressure of his hips against your own paired with the bites and licks on your neck. It didn't take long for his fingers to find their way to your throbbing sex, teasing and rubbing at your entrance.

You mewled and moved your hips with his strokes, tired eyes closing. It seemed he had no patience for foreplay or much else beyond stuffing himself into your heat as you felt him lift your leg over his hip. He let out low noises of pleasure as he let his hot cock slide through your folds. Your toes curled and you let out faint moans, pushing against his chest weakly.

"Don't... I don't want.."

"Shh... Just keep your eyes closed and go to sleep."

You felt surprisingly soft lips press against your own as he slowly slid into you, the faint shot of pain rousing your mind just a bit as he bottomed out and settled. You could barely force your eyes to open as he began languidly thrusting into you, the sleepy haze in your mind heightening the feeling. You tried to force yourself to wake, but you couldn't help but let yourself get dragged deeper into sleep.

The rhythmic thrusting pulling you deeper into your haze, the low noises of moans in your ears having a near musical tone. His deep voice having such a husky hitch to it, hearing his growls and huffs as he pumped himself into you.

"My sweet wife... Just rest and let me take care of you. Be vulnerable and relax for me."

The comfortable warmth coming from his heated body against yours soothed your tense muscles, letting his firm body massage yours. The soft melody of sounds and rhythms soothing you and putting you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~

It seemed over the last month that Silva had grown rather fond of taking you in your sleep. Often you would wake just enough to feel your pleasure break over you or to feel him thrusting away into you. You were getting sick of his callous disregard for your opinion or want by fucking you while you were asleep.

Or perhaps you were just sick.

You lay on the tile floor, blanket wrapped around your exhausted figure. Somewhere in your mind you couldn't help but hope you just had the flu or something similar, but you knew that wasn't the case. You felt similar to how you did when you were pregnant with your two sons, and somewhere in your mind, you knew you were pregnant once again.

At least now Silva would leave you alone, right?

You figured you could test that theory later and get in a quick nap, but the tell-tale sound of the door opening dashed those thoughts.

"... Unwell again?"

He kneeled next to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and examined your pale face. It was as if you were experiencing a gentle touch far more willingly than you usually would, as you pressed your cheek into his hand. There was a quiet moment before he recoiled in shock.

You could barely hear his voice and only manged to pick up on a few words.

"Impossible. How could it already have unique nen so early?"

You were half tempted to question what he was talking about before you were picked up. You cried and whimpered at the loss of comfort, but Silva ignored your complaints and carried you to the large couch. You started to feel uncomfortable and warm as you lay on the plush surface, listening for Silva.

As you began to wonder if he had left without you knowing, a cool breeze began to steadily skate over your skin. The soft hum of a quiet motor reached your ears and you realized what it was. Silva must have set up a fan for you to keep your temperature down but still allow you to lay in comfort on the couch instead of the floor.

You don't know how long you lay in blissed out silence before an old and familiar voice reached your ears.

"Again? You two just breed like rabbits, don't you?"

"There's something different about this one."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at her nen."

"... How does it already have nen? It barely even has a heart-beat, it shouldn't have nen so early."

"It is different from the other two."

"This one should be monitored closely throughout the pregnancy as it grows-"

"I don't want it."

"Silva-"

"I have two sons already. I don't need another heir. I want it out of her now."

"Have you spoken with her about it?"

"I don't need to-"

It was then you decided to speak up, irritated with the back and forth jabbering. Your body, your baby, your rules.

"I'm keeping my baby. Just try and take it from me."

"(Y/n). You've already almost lost your life during delivery twice now. Do you want to chance it-"

"Just. Try. And. Take. It."

"(Y/n), stop being stubborn about this. Clearly this one is different from the other two. I don't want to risk your life again just for-"

"My womb. My baby. My decision. Not your's. Don't like it? Wear a condom for once or stop fucking me every day."

A sharp and familiar laugh split through the tension in the room, Zeno practically grinning ear-to-ear.

"Certainly have more bite to you than you did when you first got here. Figured out he won't kill you even if you snap at him? Silva, It seems your wife has spoken."

You could tell Silva was irritated with you by his clenched jaw and deep frown, but you also knew that he wouldn't punish you due to you being pregnant. It was not only a reprieve from sex, but a reprieve from his irritation.

Certainly you were going to be pleased with the months of rest from his insatiable sex-drive.

~~~~3 months in~~~~

As he had during your past pregnancies, Silva took to obsessively holding you on his lap and having you checked with every twitch or grimace.

Oddly enough, it seemed you were reacting very differently to this pregnancy than you had your other two. You couldn't help but cuddle and snuggle up with Silva any chance you got, much to his satisfaction. You became almost manic when left alone for more than ten minutes, entering into a constant state of worry. You felt the obsessive need to stockpile food as if you were worried you wouldn't be fed, even though Silva was dutifully getting your meals.

It seemed to be that you were only able to calm down from this state when he held you in his arms. Thus you rarely let him leave. When he would go to get up, you would just cling tighter to him and even shake in panic at the idea of him leaving.

It was a good thing that he refused to take contracts while you were pregnant, because leaving you alone was not an option. Not one he was willing to consider, anyway.

You still felt the usual exhaustion and unease as you did with your other pregnancies, but this was a different kind of unease. You were less concerned about how Silva would react to his new child, and more concerned about the child themselves. Something made you obsessively worry about losing your child during the pregnancy.

You knew it was likely nothing, but something just made you upset about it all. You had no concern of Silva taking your baby away- due to learning his lesson the first time- but that didn't alleviate your mind. All you could do was try to stay calm and just wait.

Somehow it soothed you that even though Silva did not want the child, he still took the time to listen to your fears and worries. He usually would assure you and tell you things will be fine and nothing bad is going to happen.

He is quite gentle with you while you're pregnant given your fragile condition. He also would not be able to withstand or tolerate your mourning should you lose the child. He would make sure the child lived just to keep you from falling into that kind of sorrow again.

His concern for your wellbeing is why he wanted to get rid of the child before you knew of its existence. He had done so in the past and managed to convince you that you were just sick when the signs began to appear. You never even knew what he had done and never realized why you had only been pregnant twice in 15 years even though he ensured to have sex with you every day.

He wanted to growl when he heard your tired voice say you wanted to keep it while he talked with his father. Well, he knew it was going to happen eventually. He could only get away with it for so long before you learned of it and desired to keep the child.

Now that you were aware of it, he would go through Hell just to keep you comfortable. He still had a bad feeling about this one though.

~~~~6 Months~~~~

You hummed softly as you ran your fingers through Silva's hair, still sniffling lightly and slowly getting your breathing under control.

You had begun having terrible nightmares and would wake up just screaming and wailing in agony. You were unusually difficult to console after waking. You never really did remember your nightmares, but you knew well enough that it was better you forgot them, given your sheer panic upon waking.

You knew Silva was still displeased with the pregnancy, but he said anything you wanted to hear to help soothe you. The first night you woke him with your thrashing and wailing, he was in a frazzled and panicked state. He couldn't figure out why you were screaming or what was wrong and being so powerless was infuriating to him.

Now he had taken to sleeping rarely and only resting for a few hours each night so he could keep an eye on you. But even with him at the ready to wake you the moment you seemed uncomfortable, there were still nights like this. Painful sobs and gasps wracking through your body as you clung to him.

Gone were the days of trying to shield your stomach from him in fear. Now you held tightly to him and pressed as close as your body would allow, stomach directly between the two of you. It was unreasonably soothing to you to hold onto him and just listen to him speak.

Weren't you supposed to hate him?

Regardless of how you felt in the past and how it felt like a betrayal now, you were not about to try to distance yourself from him. Not when his presence alone was so soothing to you in your distressed state.

His warm hands massaged your tense muscles. His soft hair was soothing between your fingers. His deep voice settling your frantic heartbeat. His firm body making you feel protected. Everything about him was what you desperately needed, and he couldn't be more thrilled.

He disliked seeing you upset, but he adored how cuddly you had become and how aggressively you clung to him. His only wish is that you continue your cuddling behavior even after the pregnancy is over.

~~~~8 months~~~~ (extra warning)

Something's not right. Something's wrong. Something's wrong. Something's wrong.

You knew it the moment you woke up, panicked and holding your stomach in agony. It was the middle of the day and Silva had stepped out not too long before you woke from your nap.

You knew something was wrong and you just screamed. Your body was filled with agony as you held your stomach, somewhere in your mind realizing that you were likely going to have to do this alone. You could barely move and the blood that coated your legs sent you into a frenzy of terror.

Pain was something you had experienced, this was something else all together. Somewhere in your mind you knew the child wouldn't be able to be born in a normal delivery. So, you did what you had to in order to save your baby.

Silva didn't keep knives around the room in order to ensure you couldn't hurt yourself, but he recently left a simple small knife on the counter before you fell asleep. It wasn't ideal, but it would damn-well have to do.

Thankfully, you had a vague idea of what to do, given the different medical books you had read over the years. You didn't feel much pain, adrenaline fueling your actions and steadying your hand. You were going to save your baby no matter what.

What felt like hours passed as you worked, propped up slightly against the couch. You knew you had done it when you heard that nasally snorting cry only newborns could make. The few things you remembered before finally passing out was a shock of white hair and piercing blue eyes cuddled up to your chest.

~~~~~~~~

Silva's brain still refused to process the events that followed when he returned to his wife's side.

He was unprepared for the snorting cries of his newborn infant and the horrific amount of blood that had no doubt come from his wife. She had been so pale with no color on her lips or face. The skin around her eyes were dark like pits and her chest barely moved.

He sat motionless with that image burned in his mind as doctors worked to save his only love. Why? Why had she done something so drastic? She should have just waited for him instead of going off the deep end.

He felt hate burning in his chest, not only for the infant but hate towards himself. He should have been there. How could he leave for so long like that? Just assuming she would still be sleeping by the time he got back. He shouldn't have left. If he had been there, none of this would have happened.

His father- as per usual- was the one who held and comforted the snorting and crying creature in his arms, refusing to allow Silva anywhere near. He knew what Silva would do to the infant if he was let near, and he wasn't about to let that happen. Not with how much potential and familial traits the infant already had.

The familial white hair and blue eyes of the Zoldyck family made the child's potential quite clear. Not to mention the overwhelming amount of nen the infant had despite being just born. The child had the nen of an adult and was likely only going to become stronger from there.

This child was the ideal Zoldyck. Zeno knew it, and Maha knew it. Silva didn't care. If he had his way that disgusting parasite would be dead by now.

He immediately stood the moment the door opened, the doctor's next words would dictate his actions from there.

"She's stable."

Almost as if his heart had been released from a vice, relief flooded his body at the news.

"It... Is a miracle she survived."

"How soon will she recover? That infant isn't worth her life to me."

"Well, there's something to that actually. Had she not done what she did, she would have died. We found that there was a complication with her dilation and that the infant was actually stuck inside of her. Had it remained that way, even for such a short amount of time, both would have died."

Now that was interesting. Silva knew that she had been worried from the very beginning even though countless checks said she would be fine. Had she known from the start of the pregnancy that something like this was going to happen? Had she been right to be concerned from the start?

Maha spoke up, now interested in the odd events that took place.

"So she was right to do what she had done to herself? She was correct in her actions?"

"Yes. Had she not done it, there would have been no saving her by the time we got to her. She is very fortunate, self performed c-sections always end in the mother passing away. This is likely a once in a million years kind of event."

Silva didn't care about their jabbering, he wanted to see his wife. He didn't stay to listen to them talk and instead immediately entered the room where she was being held.

It pained him more than words could describe to see her with so many marks and machines attached to her. But she was alive. He could work with that. Had she died, he would have... Well, no need to talk in hypotheticals.

~~~~~~~~

It had taken Illumi a moment to come to terms with the wiggling, snorting thing in his arms. This was what his mother almost died for? This pink squishy thing?

It was fascinating to him that this was why he almost lost his sweet mother. He had agreed long ago to keep an eye on any younger siblings he may have, but he would make note to watch this one closely. There had to be a reason his mom had gone through such lengths to keep this infant. He would be damned before all of her pain and suffering went to waste.

"What do you think of your little brother, Illumi?"

His mother's soft voice brought him back to the present. She was still bed-bound, but she wanted to be there when Illumi first met little Killua. He was pleased just to be able to be with her even if it meant he had to take care of the small infant in his arms.

His father stood, leaning against one of the walls and watching closely should anything happen. The similarities between them did not go unnoticed though.

"He looks like father."

"Yes... He does look a lot like your father."

Illumi knew he would never let anything happen to his little brother. He wouldn't let his mother down like that. Not with the amount of trust she's put in him.

He would ensure this child would never take on an opponent he was uncertain of defeating. He would make his mother proud of him and just how well he is taking care of his siblings.

He just hoped she wouldn't die over something like another kid. She was his mom and he didn't want her to ever be sad or to have her die any time soon.

If it meant he had to control and micro-manage his little siblings, he would.

[dreabbles]

in a lifetime where shinobu lives

where life is but a series of expectations that don’t happen

shinobu is the last person to expect her survival. even though kanao knew her older sister could die, kanao always held on to the smallest of hopes that she’d survive. shinobu always though she wouldn’t live to see the end.

it is hard for her to adjust to a future she never imagined she’d be part of. her life was supposed to end at eighteen. what is anything past that meant to bring her? 

aoi helps her a lot, but because aoi’s busy attending to everyone else, shinobu clings onto the rest of the living hashira. they’re a handful to deal with without the corps system that kept them in line.

where life becomes a routine

her daily routine eventually evolves. there is no more need to train when all demons (save for that annoying boy with a cat) have vanished with muzan’s death.

her routine now involves teaching in the mornings--it is not only aoi who’s taken an interest in becoming a full-time healer, but sumi, kiyo, and naho have expressed their interest (though naho claims she wants “to heal animals, all kinds of them, especially the fluffy ones!”; shinobu cringes at this thought). 

afternoons are spent tending to the garden. shinobu has her fair share of helpers: nezuko, tanjiro, kanao, and all the children whose lives continued on. (she’s also watched her fair share of blossoming love in the garden. flower have their own way of setting the mood.)

where life is meant to be shared with others

sanemi comes for visits. he’s less hostile now, more fun to tease, more easy to engage with. he becomes a close confidant for shinobu; she tells him as many secrets as he tells her. they spend many nights falling asleep under the stars following never-ending conversations of what could have been and what is to come. he becomes a welcome guest.

tengen and his wives come scarcely. their visits are for celebrations. though shinobu’s never totally forgiven him for trying to steal aoi away, they’re on much better terms. they bring the incident up from time to time to joke about. 

giyuu doesn’t become as welcome a guest. 

in fact, giyuu never leaves, even when his arm has fully healed. he’s there in the mornings when shinbou’s teaching the girls how to suture wounds. he’s there in the afternoons watching blushing faces and beating hearts run across the yard. he’s there in the evenings, when all is calm and quiet. 

shinobu brings it up as a jest. “with how often we’re together, you’d think we’d be married. your future wife may spend less time with you if i’m always by your side.”

giyuu solidifies it into something true. “then marry me, kocho.”

the engagement between giyuu and shinobu is something everyone expects, not because there are romantic feelings involved, but because “it only makes sense.” giyuu’s already part of the household. marriage would only make it official.

despite the marriage, nothing changes. they’re still friends. they’re still comrades. they share a single bed in a single room. they still keep a noticeable distance between them. 

that is, until shinobu decides to take a step closer.

where life is not solely one’s own

things happen slowly. the fast-paced life they once lived is a thing of the past. they let things flow naturally: first the gap between them closes when they stand, then their knuckles brush against one another’s until giyuu’s hand clumsily starts to reach out for hers, cradling it with fragile care. then come the cuddles in bed, the cuddles they’d allow others too see, the cuddles that lead them closer and closer until the gap that once separated them ceases to exist. 

they eventually wean away from the use of the other’s surname. “shinobu” rolls off his tongue nicely. “giyuu” is pleasant for her to say.

together, they relearn touch--not the violent kind giyuu is accustomed to, nor the kind that requires shinobu’s careful analysis. 

they let it be as it is: touch in its purest form. touch that speaks more than words. touch so honest that one can’t help but shiver beneath it. touch in all its languages.

it is shinobu who first comes to the realization. it happens in one of those scarce mornings she wakes before him. giyuu’s breathing has become so peaceful; she matches her own with it. she traces his features, silently giggling when he twitches under the light tickle of her fingers. when he opens his eyes from her disturbance, she freezes. when he smiles at her, she knows. when, with his voice still full of sleep, he greets her, “good morning!”, she lets go, allowing herself to fall deeper and deeper into him.

where life is the beating of one’s heart

giyuu smiles more often now, and after that morning, shinobu finds it difficult to look at that smile without blushing or biting on her lip. she excuses herself quickly when he looks at her, lest she be caught staring for too long. he wonders what he did wrong.

this continues for longer a time than shinobu had hoped; everyone else has started picking up on the strange atmosphere between the pair. aoi puts it out bluntly: “they’re acting like a teenage couple.”

to be fair, shinobu is still only nineteen. she’s older than most newlyweds, but she’s still young. only now is she able to live life like she’s meant to. only now has she allowed herself to feel the flutter in her stomach.

eventually, giyuu gets fed up with the avoidance. he attempts to corner her, but with only one arms to do so, he uses his body to block her against the bookshelf in their room. 

he’s too close for any semblance of comfort.

he doesn’t confront. instead, to shinobu’s surprise, he tells her, with the most words he’s ever said in one breath, “i’m sorry for whatever i did wrong. i’ll make it right. just stop ignoring me. i can’t get used to it.”

blushing, shinobu melts. the hand that’s transferred to her waist isn’t helping, either.

aside from the quick peck they’d shared in their wedding day, they’ve not kissed. the act once seemed trivial; something they’ll get to when they get to it. 

giyuu brings them there. the dip of his head for his lips to meet hers is so sure; shinobu’s startled by the boldness of his actions.

shinobu has kissed men before--she knows how to use her feminine wiles to her advantage--yet none have been like this. there’s gentleness, there’s tenderness, there’s a dash of timidness, but there’s also wanting, passion, and something she can’t quite put to words yet. 

this is the only kiss that has felt right.

where life is connecting

when they part, he surprises her once again with words. “you taste nice, shinobu.” without waiting for her response, he tastes again. she allows him to taste more, opening her mouth for him to travel.

they spend the night learning each other’s flavors, and in the morning, everything is back to normal.

seemingly, at least.

kisses become morning greetings. kisses become nighttime goodbyes. kisses become mealtime substitutes. 

kisses are no longer enough.

it is giyuu who gives in first. he startles himself when he startles her. the rip of her kimono echoes too loudly yet it doesn’t mask the sound of her gasp. he pales when he sees her covering her chest and immediately withdraws from his position above her. he stumbles to his feet hastily, almost knocking a chair down in his hurry.

when he starts with his apologies, she silences him by discarding the rest of her garments. a song is formed with the individual melodies they create.

where life is something worth living

the morning dawn stirs giyuu awake. shinobu lies on his chest, unbothered by the warm sunshine. he brushes his fingers through her hair, removing the tangles formed in their tussle.

he whispers a phrase so quietly that even the wind is unable to pick it up.

she hears it loud and clear in her dream, and responds,

“as i love you, my love.”

[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible - 10

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: Nope

A/N: this is a bit of a filler chapter. Necessary though. Enjoy!

***

You sighed and glanced around. It appeared that everyone else had cleared out leaving the two of you alone. That didn’t mean someone hadn’t lingered, however. “I think we should have this conversation on the way home.”

Eric looked you over for a moment before nodding once. He took your hand in his to lead you to the car. When he opened the passenger side door for you, you stepped back. “I should probably drive.”

His brow furrowed but he handed over the keys just the same.

It wasn’t until you were halfway home that you spoke. “I don’t know my real parents. No one does. I’ve only been told that I was found in the company of a homeless woman who was not my mother. The man I call my father realized I was something other than human and took me in. Regardless of his inability to discover my origins, he raised me and loved me as his own.”

“You’ve told me this.”

You glanced in Eric’s direction and gave him a small smile. “Have I? I couldn’t remember. I don’t talk about my past or my family often. It’s too much of a risk.” Your attention turned back to the road and you took a deep breath. “My father is Roman Zimojic.”

Silence stretched for a long moment until Eric finally broke it. “Your father is the Guardian?”

You made a sound of agreement.

“You were raised by the head of the Authority?” His voice was tight, strained.

“I realize we should have had this discussion prior to me accepting your claim as mate. If you want to back out, I would understand.” It pained you to say the words, but you understood that Eric might see you differently now. There was a reason you didn’t tell people who your father was. Beyond the safety issues involved, the few people who did know always treated you differently after they found out. You just wanted to live your life without always being in Roman’s shadow.

“Pull over,” Eric instructed.

You bit your lip to keep from questioning him and did as he asked.

He was out of the car and had your door open before you even turned the car off. “Get out.”

You got out and stepped to the side so he could shut the door. You kept your head down, afraid of what you’d see if you looked at him. After a moment, he lifted your chin so he could see your face.

“Look at me,” he said when you refused to meet his eye.

You sighed and met his gaze. He gave you a soft smile. “Your father has nothing to do with my feelings for you. I love you. You are my mate. The in-laws will simply be a bit more interesting than I had anticipated.”

His lips pressed against yours and you looped your arms around his neck as you fell into his kiss. Stress and worry faded away. This man continued to surprise you at every turn and you were oh so grateful for it.

He pulled away and rested his forehead on yours. “Let’s go home.” You nodded and he kissed your head. “I’ll drive us. You have a phone call to make.”

“Don’t remind me.” You got into the car on the other side.

Once you’d buckled in, Eric turned to face you. “Do you fear to tell him about us?”

You laughed. “Eric, he may be the Guardian but when it comes to me, he is first and foremost a father. No father is ecstatic to hear his daughter in love. It may be inevitable but it’s a conversation he’d like to hold off as long as possible.”

Eric smiled and started the car. Once you were back on the road he said, “Fair enough, I suppose.”

“I’ve already told him about you. Before.”

He glanced over in surprise. “You did?”

“Losing you was the catalyst to me leaving my work for the Authority. It cost too much.” You glanced out the window at the darkness. “We had a horrible fight.”

“You quit because of me?”

“In a manner of speaking. I quit because my heart was broken. It was time for a change.” You looked at him, studying his profile while he drove. “He understood that eventually. Me agreeing to work for them on occasion helped. I can be a lot choosier than I used to be though. Honestly it works better for everyone. Even if he won’t admit it. He’s stubborn, especially when it comes to me.”

The corner of his mouth curled up as he shot a glance in your direction. “Sounds like we have a lot in common.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m sure you two will have many conversations about what a handful I am.” You pulled out your phone and called your father.

The phone only rang once before it was answered. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Hey, Pop. I’m going to put you on speaker so we can all talk.” You laid the phone in your lap.

“And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” You picked up the trace of annoyance in his voice but doubted Eric did. Your father was a master of hiding his emotions if he chose.

“Eric Northman, sir.”

“Ah, Mr. Northman. I have heard much about you. Both from my daughter and others.”

Eric shot you a glance.

“I thought I told you to leave him be,” you said, your own annoyance on full display.

“And I have. But you can’t honestly expect me not to investigate the man you’re dating. Just a simple background. No more. No less.”

You sighed but knew it wouldn’t do any good to argue. Besides, it was already done. There was no sense in getting angry about it now. You were used to your father overreaching. “You’re right. I should have known better.”

He made a sound of agreement. “Now, why are you calling?”

“I have claimed Y/N as my mate and she has accepted that claim.”

Silence was the only answer.

“Dad?”

“I’m here. Just…This wasn’t the conversation I was expecting.”

“I love him.”

“To be blunt, it’s not your feelings that I question, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Eric’s hand on your leg stopped you.

“I have lived over 1000 years. Never before have I even considered claiming a mate. I would give up everything for her.”

“And before you make your next argument, he didn’t know who you were until tonight.”

“There are still some matters to discuss. Perhaps you should call me later when you’re on your own, Y/N.” Your father may have worded it as a suggestion but you knew it was anything but.

“To be blunt, sir, this isn’t up for debate. We are simply notifying you of a decision that has already been made.”

Your brows shot up. It wasn’t often anyone other than you spoke to your father with anything less than absolute deference.

Your father’s response was immediate. “You are aware of what I could do to you with little more than a twitch of my finger?”  

“I am.”

It took you a moment to realize that your father was laughing. You smiled at the sound. “You have my blessing, Y/N. I do wish to meet him properly soon.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course. Love you.”

“I love you, too. And congratulations.”

You hung up and put your phone away. “How did you know he’d react that way?” you asked.

“I didn’t, but I was not about to allow him to separate us. It was important he understood that, Authority or not.”

“Well, you’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. At least I don’t have to question my importance to you after that. Not that I did anyway.” You shook your head in disbelief. “Try not to piss him off too much. I kind of like having you around.”

Before he could respond, your phone rang. A glance at the screen showed Sookie’s name. “Hey, Sookie,” you answered.

“Have you seen Bill?” Her voice was shaky.

“Earlier, yeah.” You glanced at Eric who only shook his head. “I doubt he’ll be home for a few days. He has some business to tend to.”

“He could have called,” she complained.

“He may not have had the opportunity. The business was unexpected.” Why you were telling her this you had no idea. You’d be thrilled if she just decided Bill was a dick and never had anything else to do with him. You didn’t want her taking his absence personally, however. It wasn’t her fault.

“I need…” She huffed a breath. “Can you come stay with me for a couple of days?”

“What’s going on, Sook?”

“The killer attacked me at Merlotte’s tonight. I got away obviously, but I’d sure feel better if you came to visit.” Your heart ached at the thought that you’d almost lost your friend.

“Do you have someone that can stay with you tonight?”

“Yeah, Sam brought me home. He’ll stay.”

“I’ll have to get some things together before I can come. I’ll head over in the morning, okay?” You ignored Eric’s hands tightening on the wheel.

“That would be great, Y/N/N. Thank you.”

You said your goodbyes and put the phone away. “Don’t bother, Eric,” you said when he looked at you. “She’s my friend and she’s in danger.”

“I could send Bill back to her,” he offered after a pause.

“That’s up to you. Won’t keep me from going to Bon Temps in the morning though.”

“Why must you be so stubborn?”

You didn’t answer. Odds were he wasn’t really expecting one anyway.

“Is it necessary for you to continuously put yourself at risk for others?”

“No, but I’m not going to stop either. You might as well get used to it.” You patted his thigh. “You don’t have to worry about me, Eric. I’ll be fine, but I’ll text regular updates if it makes you feel better.”

“See that you do. I’ll not hesitate to burn that little town to the ground if I must to find you.”

You rolled your eyes. He was always so dramatic. “No burning, Viking. No pillaging either while I’m thinking of it.”

He grinned. “You really have no sense of fun, Y/N.”

“If you’d hurry up and get us home, we could have all sorts of fun before I head to Bon Temps.”

The press of his foot against the accelerator was his only response.

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 3, chapter 9

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: minor burn, brief and non-specific self harm mention

Telash was a challenge. He had insisted on speaking with Morgan directly, despite Phaedra issuing him an invitation to the demonstration she was giving. He was also impatient. Eager, Morgan corrected himself. Eager to learn and improve. It just put him in a difficult situation, trying to teach something he knew so very little about to a student who wanted to have already mastered it.

"This isn't going anywhere."

"I told you, I didn't actually teach her anything. We just talked."

"She told me you taught her something new while I was trying to help your frigid friend relax a little. How did you ever get on her good side anyway? Does she just have a soft spot for freaks?" Telash was making a face like he'd smelled something unpleasant. Morgan ignored it.

"I really don't know. Aside from the element, do you have any idea how your magic works in comparison to Phaedra's?"

Telash looked displeased. "No. Well, sort of. I mean, obviously fire and lightning are different. She can be flashier because lightning takes a lot less to sustain. It doesn't need fuel to keep going. But I can do a lot more damage in a single shot."

"How do you fuel it?"

"What kind of question is that? Magic fire uses magic as fuel. Don't you know anything?"

"Not very much," Morgan replied. That was interesting, though. It was starting to sound like this magic was closer to his own. "How does that work? Does it still need air?"

"It can't be smothered, but it won't work underwater or anything stupid like that."

"Can you manipulate the fuel separately before lighting it, or is it all one action?"

"Haven't you noticed the gestures I use?"

Those were in the list of things to ask about. "What is their purpose?"

"They focus the energy before I activate it," Telash sneered. Again, closer to Morgan's experience. His were more of a mnemonic than anything, helping to visualize the flow of magic when it couldn't be seen, rather than actually shaping it. He hadn't relied on the gestures in some time, having been using it often enough to develop a feel for it instead.

"And you can't focus it in - oh, it's a problem of strength," Morgan realized aloud. Telash's sneer turned into more of a snarl. "You're too strong," Morgan clarified quickly. "The glass can't withstand the power you're trying to put into it. You need to use a more suitable container."

"I want to use glass."

"Then you'll need to find some very thick glass and be very delicate. Why does it have to be glass?"

Telash was frowning, apparently not pleased with the assessment he'd received. "Phaedra uses glass. Can't compare the results otherwise. How is everyone going to know I beat her at this?"

"You are capable of very different things," Morgan said. "Phaedra originally wanted to try to move the earth as I do. I don't think that goal is compatible with her magic."

Telash perked up. "What about mine?"

"Maybe. It sounds like it's closer to what I have."

"Well, show me how to do that," Telash said, grinning. "Bet I can do it, easy. It can't be that hard."

It seemed to be harder than Telash anticipated. He was persistent, throwing himself into the work and trying until his skin shone with sweat. His magic was... not faster, exactly, Morgan could raise a golem in just a few seconds by now. But it didn't seem to want to stay put. Several little furrows in the ground marked failed attempts where Telash had managed to channel his energy into the earth, but not to concentrate it there.

"You have to hold it," Morgan advised.

"I'm trying to hold it," Telash growled, flinging one hand out to point in Morgan's direction. He ducked under the weak jet of flame that spurted toward him. This was just how the other man communicated, evidently.

"It might be easier for you to... hold on, let me demonstrate something." Telash dropped his hands and sat down, breathing hard, but the glare he aimed at Morgan wasn't that deep. He waved one hand in a 'get on with it' sort of motion.

Morgan raised a simple sphere of earth, about the size of a person's head. "This is one way to make a shape. All at once. It's what I find easiest." Next to it, he set about constructing another sphere, this time using a different approach. A strip of earth rose up and curled around itself until the shape was achieved. Telash watched with interest. "This is another way," Morgan explained. "You get the same shape, but you put it together differently. It's harder for me, but it might be easier for you because of the way everything keeps moving."

"It makes more sense that way anyway," Telash said. "You build by starting with a foundation. Should have started with that instead of wasting my time."

Morgan refrained from commenting. People like Telash didn't tend to appreciate being reminded that their difficulties were their own doing. Instead of defending himself, he decided to offer some additional advice.

"When you've caught your breath, you might want to try again from down there. It's-"

"Down there," Telash snorted. "Because you're all the way up there now, aren't you, small fry? Enjoy that while you can."

"It's easier if you're touching the earth directly," Morgan continued. "You don't have to push the energy through the air first that way. It's one less obstacle."

"Air isn't much of an obstacle," Telash grumbled, but leaned forward anyway, placing his open palms on the ground in front of him.

"Try to imagine it like water. Pour it out into the earth, give it a moment to soak in, then move them together once they've joined."

Telash muttered something about water under his breath as he turned his attention to the earth in front of him. Despite his complaining, he seemed to be taking the advice well enough. The ground twitched a little between his hands. He breathed out slowly, and a small hill formed. With another few controlled breaths, a hollow sphere gained shape at the tip of the hill.

"That's very good," Morgan said. Personal attitude notwithstanding, it was impressive that he'd managed to make so much progress so quickly. It certainly hadn't come this easily to Morgan, though with consistent practice it had been getting considerably easier. "You can think of that shape as a container to hold some of your energy. It takes some power to maintain the shape, but it's proportional to the size. It takes more energy to move or change a shape once you've established it."

"Shut up for a minute. I'm figuring it out."

Morgan watched instead. Telash was intensely focused. The orb wobbled, then rolled unevenly down its little hill. Based on the way it moved, it looked like he'd added some extra weight in one spot to achieve the movement. Difficult to control with precision, but it was something. It rolled in a loose, jerky circle. Morgan stepped back out of its path. Telash made an annoyed grunt and the sphere slowly reversed its course to tap against the toe of Morgan's boot. He looked at the other mage for a cue and found him smirking.

"Go ahead, pick it up."

He couldn't imagine the purpose, but Morgan knelt to pick up the orb anyway. It was another opportunity to practice with the golem arm, at least. He manipulated it carefully, mindful that the sphere was likely fairly delicate. If he concentrated, he could feel the slight imbalance in its weight that had allowed it to move. The arm suddenly came alive with a warning, just as it had done with the bottled lightning. Morgan frowned. He'd already been handling the orb for several seconds. There hadn't been a delay previously. What was different?

His answer came in the form of the sphere bursting into flame. Morgan yelped in surprise, the shock again slowing his reaction. Telash had already started laughing before he managed to drop the orb. It wasn't painful, exactly, not like the burn he'd gotten on the wrist of his good hand that first evening, but the way the golem conveyed we are damaged was thoroughly disconcerting.

"Figured out how to hold it," Telash said, looking very satisfied with himself.

"Very impressive," Morgan said. He brought the damaged hand up to take a better look, running the pad of his other thumb along the scorched part. There was no bleeding or swelling, and luckily no sickening smell of burning flesh, but the texture of the construct was interrupted and the continuous warning that it/he/they were damaged was making it difficult to think about anything else.

Repair, Morgan suggested. It was generally much more straightforward to create a new golem than to fix an existing one. He'd tried with moderate success recently, though, managing to extend the utility of a construct that he'd combined with a cold-enchanted mace. It had been pleasant to stand near the gentle waves of cold that had rolled off of it.

This was something almost entirely different. He grimaced as the golem drew a substantial amount of power from him all at once, making his breath catch in his throat. The shadows grew deep, leaping up momentarily at the edges of his vision. But although it set his heart to pounding, the golem carried out the repair quickly and the sense of alarm faded away as he ran his thumb over the newly smoothed skin. A strange aching sensation lingered at the site of the damage. Clearly it wasn't an ideal solution, but it could have been much worse.

"Don't be such a baby about it," Telash said. "Here, take this if you can't even handle a little burn." He produced a vial of reddish liquid from somewhere within the folds of his robes. Morgan was reminded of the last time Telash had offered him a potion. That hadn't gone particularly well.

"I appreciate the offer," he said carefully, "but no thank you. I don't-"

"What the hell is wrong with you? I'm trying to be considerate here. You don't trust me?"

"You did just light my hand on fire," Morgan pointed out.

"And now I'm giving you a potion to fix it, so what's the problem? You think I'm trying to poison you or something?"

"Trust is not the issue. I just don't... respond well to potions." Upon consideration, he actually didn't trust Telash not to poison him. But that hadn't been the basis for his refusal, so it wasn't really a lie.

"I knew it," Telash said, withdrawing the proffered vial with a calculating look. "All those weird scars, like Khaleel used to have. Got yourself hooked on the good stuff, did you? Find it doesn't work the same as it used to?"

"Something like that." Morgan hadn't met anyone by that name, but he had no desire to elaborate on his own situation. Hopefully Telash would accept the vague answer and move on.

"Should have said something sooner. I do know how to play nice; I'm not a monster."

"Phaedra thought you would learn quickly, but I didn't expect this kind of speed. It takes most acolytes at least a full day to reach a complete form like that." To be fair, most acolytes weren't active mages before they started training in geomancy. But that detail wasn't conducive to changing the subject, so Morgan didn't mention it.

Telash perked up. "Phaedra said that?"

Morgan wanted to wrap up the impromptu lesson. There was little chance that Phaedra's demonstration was still taking place, but he did want to more thoroughly examine the repair his arm had achieved. He had intended to flatter Telash enough to satisfy his ego, but he'd seized on the other part of the statement instead. This could still be workable, though.

"Yes. Reluctantly," he added, hoping to play on the man's apparent propensity for conflict. An expression he was beginning to recognize as determination settled on Telash's features.

"I'm going to rub it in her face," he declared. "One night, and I've already come this far. She's going to be furious." He sounded delighted at the prospect. "How far away can you be, before you can't control it any more?"

"That's a personal limit. Your answer will differ from mine." It would also depend on a number of other factors, but explaining those would both delay his departure and likely leave him annoyed.

"Fine, I'll figure it out on my own. Basically what I've been doing all night anyway." He stifled a yawn. "I might as well keep going in private, if you aren't going to be any help."

"I have been as much help as I can."

"Sure," Telash said, getting to his feet. He stared at Morgan for a couple of seconds, apparently coming to some sort of decision. "Thanks," he said finally, turning away. "I'll try to remember about your delicate condition," he added over his shoulder. "No promises, though."

"Thank you," Morgan said, watching him go. He still wouldn't be able to let his guard down, but it was a larger concession than he'd expected. Once the other mage was well out of sight, Morgan took stock of himself. It seemed the repair had been fairly costly. His energy was recovering nicely, but there were physical symptoms indicating that he would need to eat something sooner rather than later. That was unfortunate.

A lot had happened in the space of a single day, much of it interpersonal. Although it might be easier to beg a helping from whatever the communal meal had been, Morgan was nearing the limits of his tolerance for interaction. He set out into the jungle instead. There had been a small grove of fruit-bearing trees not too far to the northeast, nutrient-dense and easy enough to harvest. Then he could probably fit in another hour or two concentrating on his arm before having to rest for another day's work.

He crossed paths briefly with Ormus on his way out of the protected zone. They nodded a greeting to one another as they passed. Ormus took a few more steps, then stopped and turned slowly, an expression that looked like disbelief coming over his face as he lifted his torch for more light. His eyes were fixed on the golem arm as he stepped back towards him. Morgan lifted the arm, carefully bending the elbow to position the forearm for closer inspection. Ormus stared for a long moment, but made no motion to touch or otherwise examine it more closely. Finally, he shook his head with a chuckle.

"And they call me crazy." He showed all his teeth as he laughed, turning back to continue his journey. A reasonably positive reaction overall, Morgan decided, especially with the misgivings he had communicated earlier. He allowed himself a brief smile before he extinguished the growing spark of pride. That was a deceptively dangerous emotion, one he couldn't allow to cloud his judgment. It wouldn't do to lose focus now. They were getting close to their goal, and he was going to need to concentrate on the task at hand. Destroying Mephisto, or otherwise preventing the Prime Evils from uniting, was going to be a challenge. One he would be better equipped to face, now, but still far from easy.

[brilliantt]

Mouse- part three

Summary: Maggie Shelby isn’t like her brothers or sister, being quiet and studious she often struggles to fit in. When money gets stolen and she is accused will she stick around and continue to be an outcast in her family?

A/N: Yay part three! It’s here a little later than I wanted but the weather has been really nice in England so my family and I enjoyed a barbecue before the rain returns tomorrow... This chapter focuses on Maggie’s relationship with her eldest brother Arthur. I wanted to show her relationship with her brothers before focusing on the storyline in the summary- which will start from the next part! Hope you enjoyyy <3 

-PREVIOUS-

On a normal day, the end of school saddened Maggie, today was no different. Except today she felt something more than sad, she felt dread. Tommy had kept his word and didn’t do anything to William, or at least anything physical that she could see- she had crossed paths with him in the school courtyard that morning and when he saw her decided to go in the complete opposite direction. Seeing as her brother kept his side of the bargain, she would have to keep hers. Today she would have to meet Arthur at the boxing gym. 

The gym wasn't far from the school, leading Maggie to drag her feet (not thinking about the scolding she would get from Aunt Polly at the scuffs) to take as much time as possible to get there, frowning the whole journey. She reached the door of the building and huffed before pushing it open. Inside was bustling. There were men on the floor wrestling, and others standing around them, taking a break, faces sweaty. Maggie was about to completely abort when Arthur spotted her.  “There’s my Maggiepie!” His voice bellowed across the room, pushing past everyone, beaming at the youngest Shelby. Maggie gave a wobbly smile in return, her cheeks flushed a violent red seeing the men becoming distracted by them. 

Arthur grabbed her school books and led her to one of the free mats. He dumped the books carelessly on a bench, making Maggie wince, and gripped her arms with his hands, leading her to the centre of the mat. “Right, Tommy told me to teach ya some self defense.” Arthur scratched at his moustache eyeing the delicate girl, wearing a simple brown dress with a buttoned cardigan to match. She was Ada’s opposite in terms of fashion, dressing modestly and rather dull. Arthur knew that the men he knew tended to avoid women like this. But, undoubtedly, Maggie was blessed with the Shelby good-looks. Her long wavy hair and pretty doe eyes were more than enough for the men to have a lustful look, despite Maggie never noticing. Arthur always noticed, however, and had jumped at Tommy’s idea to teach her some fighting moves. He couldn't always be around the girl that he helped raise these days, what with Linda and the baby, so knowing she could defend herself when he wasn’t there put his mind at ease.

“We’ll start off simple, to see what we’re working with.” Arthur raised his palms and held them out in front of him, “I want you to punch my hand as hard as you can, alright?”

Maggie’s arm remained loosely at her side. Her face still felt hot and she couldn’t stop her eyes wandering around the room, watching everyone. Most of the men were doing their own thing but one or two she noticed were watching her and her brother. She turned back to Arthur who was waiting still with his hands out.  Maggie looked to the ground and rubbed her hand up her arm. “I… I can’t do it with everyone here.” 

It took Arthur only a couple of seconds to process her words before he clapped his hands and cupped his mouth to shout, “Right, that’s it! Everyone out. Gym’s closed!” Although there were some whining, Arthur’s hard stare cleared the area. He turned back to Maggie and resumed his position. Maggie breathed deeply and shook her hands out. She formed a fist and pulled it back but Arthur grabbed her hand before she could even consider throwing a punch. “Your thumb needs to be on the outside, you’ll break it otherwise.” He redirected her fist and gestured for her to try again. Maggie delivered her first punch against Arthur’s hand.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Mags, I told you to punch me as hard as you can. You don't have to worry, you're not gonna hurt me.”

Maggie stared at him, her face grimaced. “That… that was as hard as I can.” 

“Oh.” His moustache twitched as silence settled. “Right nevermind, you just need practice. You gotta use your whole body, get your weight behind the punch.” He showed Maggie the proper technique and they continued this exercise until Arthur decided she was successful enough to move on. He repositioned them to the centre of the mat and took Maggie’s elbow tapping it twice.

“Now, your elbow is gonna cause the most damage, so you need to use that whenever you can. You can't go wrong with a good kick either.” He rubbed his chin in thought, “More often than not, if someone grabs you, it’s from behind. I'm going to grab you, and you're going to escape, get it?” He wrapped his arms around his sister, locking her in his embrace. Maggie wriggled about, trying to break the grip. The challenge was taking what felt like a century to the struggling girl. Her face turning red and tears welled in her eyes, her breathing picking up as she couldn't escape. 

“Arthur!” She breathed out in a panicked tone, body tense. “Arthur, stop! I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this anymore!” His arms loosened but didn't let her go. “I’m too weak.”

“Nonsense.”He shook his head, trying not to let his frustration show at the girl’s defeatist attitude. “If someone grabs you for real, you can’t just give up.” He squeezed Maggie. “You’re a girl. There are a lot of awful men who would take advantage of a girl like you and i’ll be damned if something happens to you just because you think you're too weak to try, you’re not.” He gave Maggie a few moments to think it through, knowing she's smart enough to continue their training. He smirked when she huffed quietly, “Ok, fine.”

“Atta girl, now remember, use all your body. Don’t forget your elbows and feet.” He tightened his grip back on the girl. Only, she continued to stay still. “Mags, come on.” Arthur couldn't help but grumble at her lack of effort. Just as he was trying to think of a new way to motivate her, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach from Maggie’s elbow, an even sharper kick to his shin and suddenly he was pushed down to the mat, only managing to sound out an “Oof”.

He looked up, wide-eyed and eyebrows raised, to his angelic looking sister who hid her giggles behind her hand. Arthur’s laugh was loud enough for them both as he realised she had outsmarted and successfully distracted him. He struggled to his feet and ruffled Maggie’s hair. “You've got a good head on ya, don't have to lose that in a fight - you’ll end up being a hothead like me otherwise.” Maggie smiled up at him. “We’ll do some dodging next, I think.” The smile disappeared. 

The two continued until the evening came and it was dark outside. Although Maggie hadn’t wanted to do this today and was tired and achy, she loved spending the time with Arthur, almost forgetting what it was like. He checked his watch, “I think we can finish for the day. How about we stop at the Garrison.” Maggie’s nose scrunched up at the idea. Arthur tapped her forehead. ”I need that big brain of yours to look at my books. I’ll give you some pocket money for your hard labour, how’s that sound?” Maggie couldn’t help but agree, knowing there was a new novel she wanted to buy. She had helped Arthur with the books before and he had paid her handsomely. 

It had been just over an hour now and Maggie had finished looking through the books in the back room. She stretched in the chair, her back cracking in relief. Her stomach suddenly rumbled and she remembered she hadn't eaten anything since lunch and after all the exercise she just did, she felt even more hungry. She ventured out to find her eldest brother.

Arthur was sitting at the bar, chatting loudly with some of the local men of the pub, nursing a drink. Maggie crept up towards him, being offered kind smiles from the men which she returned politely. She tugged Arthur’s sleeve.  “Arthur can we go now? I’m really hungry.”

“Course we can love, just gotta talk to Harry.” He gestured towards the barman. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” Maggie nodded in understanding. She waited for a few moments before deciding it was too hot and stuffy to wait inside. She went outside and rested on the wall next to the front entrance, closing her eyes and breathing in the fresh air - well at least fresher than in the bar.

“Hey, pretty.” Her eyes shot open and followed the sound. A sweaty looking man stood opposite her, eyelids drooping. A bottle in one hand while the other held onto his loose trousers. Maggie stayed silent. “You know, I asked for an angel to visit me today. Looks like,” The man hiccuped, “looks like my wish came true.” He smiled, proudly showing off his stained teeth. Maggie decided it was actually best to wait for Arthur inside. She turned from the creepy man and was about to return through the door into the pub when she felt a tight grip on her upper arm. “Hey now, no need to be rude.” Her heart beat fast, trying to keep her breathing even to not appear scared. “I just wanna talk with my angel.” He staggered back a bit, pulling Maggie with him. 

She tugged back “Get off of me.” She wished Arthur would just hurry up. She was debating yelling for him when the man put his dirty hand, the one holding the bottle, to caress her cheek while tightening the grip of the other one. “I’ll-” He slurred- “I’ll show you a real good time.” and started to pull her away from the pub. “I said get off!” A tug of war match ensued and when Maggie realised he was too strong for her, despite being intoxicated, her instincts overcame her. A swift kick the man’s lower region sent him writhing on the floor. 

Maggie dusted her arms and dress off. She looked at the man wriggling about on the floor and huffed, “You brought that on yourself, you know.”

A pat on her back made her jump and she turned to see Arthur grinning down at her. “He’ll feel that kick for a whole week, Mags.” Of course he was angry at the drunken man taking advantage of his sister- he’d get one of the men to deal with him later- but Arthur couldn’t help the laugh which boomed out of him after watching his sweet, little sister kick a grown man in the balls. 

The two of them returned to the house, Maggie rushing in to help Polly with the potatoes. Tommy came over to Arthur and greeted him with a friendly hand on his shoulder, his usual cigarette on his lip. “How did it go today, Arthur?”

Arthur rested his proud eyes on his sister peeling the spuds, chatting to her Aunt. “She knows exactly what she’s doing.” And he was sure of it.

Tags:

@finallyforgotten

[theodora3022]

Since you wrote about Yandere Villians with Y/N having a cute fairy quirk, how about a Yandere Hero having a Y/N with a monstrous quirk? SO...you pick the hero! Pick any male hero who you believe can handle Y/N. You do such amazing writing.

Y/N have to wear a face mask to hide the muzzle she wears going outside. Y/N have a quirk where she goes on a frenzy. Her eyes turn red, her veins pop out of her skin, she starts growling and trying to bite anyone near by. A monster who craves to rip flesh and bones. Y/N can turn on her quirk if she feels so much anger or fear. Y/N doesn't want to hurt anyone. She wants to live a quiet and alone life.

Wolf

Pairing: Best Jeanist x f!reader

Warnings: light yandere content, power abuse, threats

Thank you so much for the compliment, dear anon! I went soft with the monster idea that I just made the reader into a werewolf...hope it is still good! I was torn between Kiri and Best Jeanist! I really like Best Jeanist, I wish he got some more screen time ... Maybe I’ll do another one for the shark boy later.

Some groundwork:

When your quirk manifested at four years old, you were not surprised: you come from a family of Mutant quirks, after all.

Your quirk, wolf, means you can transform into a wolf anytime. The longevity is unknown to you since you barely use it. Even in your normal human form, you still have wolf ears and tail. You also have a sensitive nose, just like canines. You (hair color) fluffy fur is the same color as your hair. In acient times, before quirks become a thing, you would be seen as a werewolf.

While transformed, it is hard to supress the wolf’s wild instincts, the desire to hunt, to kill and consume raw meat (extremely difficult if you are hungry). You hate it, being like a beast instead of human. You had outbursts in the past that nearly killed one of your friends. There fore you stay in human at all times.

So most of the time, you just kept a muzzle near you, just in case you would lose yourself to the beast again.

You always feel this...strange sense of difference between you and normal people, so all of your friends have mutant quirks. You kept your social circle small, only letting those who are deemed trustworthy close to you (you told them to run if they see any signs of you getting wild)

You always had a soft spot for animals, therefore you decided to work in a pet shop. Dogs especially loves you, maybe because your canine quirk. Cats not so much, as they had left quite a few marks on you when you just started.

Now you are the assistant manager, the salary is decent, so you do not look for anything more. You never thought of having a romantic relationship because you do not trust yourself: you do not want to hurt the person you love. So even if you had crushes you just kept those feelings hidden until they went away.

Best Jeanist/Tsunagu Hakamada

Did you know his favorite animal is wolf? Therefore he is a furry

Being the No.4 pro hero means taking on lots of stress, so Tsunagu decides to have an animal friend at home who he can talk to freely, without worrying leaking information (I mean how can animals pass on information).

He went into the nearest pet shop, hoping to find a furry companion, preferably dogs.

What he did not expect is to find you there, with those literal puppy eyes and fluffy ears sticking out of your hair, tending to the puppies.

Tsunagu met people with similar quirks before, and he finds them aesthetically pleasing. But seeing you with a litter of adorable puppies, laughing and petting them? He felt like his heart just melted.

“Hello sir. How may I help you today?” You put on your usual smile. Tsunagu is wearing his civilian clothes, so he is just another customer to you. A fashionable one, though. You took notice at his stylish blonde hair.

Tsunagu would ask you about all the options for adopting a puppy. However he is only half-listening: he is drawn to how your ears twitch towards any abnormal sounds...

“Oh, my ears? Sorry if they are distracting. It’s part of my quirk.”

Would get you to talk to him as much as possible, with lots of polite questions.

When you bid him good day as he walks out the door, holding a poodle puppy with its supplies, Tsunagu is determined to see you more.

You are warm, like a ray of sunlight in this stormy world. Having worked as a pro hero for so long, dealing with many negative things so often, make him attracted to positive people. Those furry wolf ears and tail only added to his admiration.

Whenever Best Jeanist is not needed at his agency, Tsunagu Hakamada would find excuses to drop by your shop. Whether it be buying new accessories for his puppy or simply need some advice on her, he would find a way to talk to you, to hear your voice.

Until he become acquainted with you enough, Tsunagu finally asked for you name.

“I’m (y/n), and you, sir?” “Tsunagu. Tusnagu Hakamada.”

Never have once you associated your friendly customer with the No.4 Pro hero of Japan. Tsunagu is charismatic and talkative (at least to you), never putting on airs like Endeavor. Since he wears a mask, the public does not have a good idea what he looks like.

Then you noticed those small gestures, how Tsunagu’s hands would “unintentionally” brush against yours when you hand over his paid items, how his body would lean in slightly towards you whenever you are talking. Or how his lips would curl upwards whenever your tails wags with excitement. You also seen him way more frequently compare to average customers.

“He got a crush on you.” One of you co workers, teases after Tsunagu left the store.

“No he doesn’t.” You blush, although considering her hypothesis.

You seen some of his clothes in fashion magazines, one of them costs more then your monthly salary. Tsunagu is clearly a rich man, a fashion designer perhaps.

“Ms.(y/n), sorry if this sounds intrusive, but do you have a lover?”

That was...unexpected. “No, I do not. Why did you ask, Mr. Hakamata?”

That saves him trouble. Best Jeanist has got this flawless reputation for years, he prefers not to taint it. But if he must, Tsunagu would not hesitate. You belong with him, and him only. “Well, it’s possible such a beautiful lady like you already has a significant other.”

“Mr. Hakamata...I-” You were not sure to blush or to smile. Now it is clear to you: This blonde is interested in you. However you do not know what to respond.

“Call me Tsunagu, please.”

The next day you would find a lily bouquet wrapped in denim on the store counter?! Who use that as a bouquet wrapper? Flatter as you are, you still find this unsettling. He did not show up for the rest of the day, which gives you time to think.

Tsunagu is handsome and kind. He seems like a perfect choice, but you wonder what he would say if he saw you as a bloodthirsty wolf, feral and hungry for killing.

You decide to turn him down, not wanting to give him false hope.

Some minor villain is causing trouble in the streets when you were walking home. You were just going to sprint away at first, but in the corner of your eye you saw a mother with her toddler daughter being corner by the villain. The way the mother tries to protect her child triggered something in you. You have to do something!

“Grr!!!” Suddenly a piece of flesh is ripped off the villain’s leg. The villain screams in pain, but you dodged every last one of his attacks while leaving deep bite marks on him. Soon the sidewalk is stained crimson with blood. You know the two had already gotten away, you should stop now. But the wolf instincts got the better of you. You crave blood, lots of it. The growing pool under you is not enough.

You heard police sirens, someone yelling for you to stop, but the wolf is not willing to. It seems it would not be satiated unless this villain dies a brutal death.

Streams of fibers wrapped around you, restraining you until you cannot move anymore.

When you regained consciousness, you were in a clean jail cell, still in your wolf form. You assumed that you are being confined in a hero agency since you just lost control.

The door cracked. It is Tsunagu! What is he doing here? And why is he wearing a jean mask?

Then you saw the rest of his outfit. Demin jeans suit from head to toe, the...the No.4?

He is Best Jeanist? What is happening now?

Tsunagu wanted to take things slow, he wanted to date you normally, letting you know everything about him, but this seems like too good of an oppertunity to pass up.

“(y/n), can you understand me?” He crouches down with a concerned look on his face.

You nod. You are not able to speak human languages while in wolf form, another draw back.

“Do your clothes come back when you transform? Or do you need some clothes?”

You left your clothes behind a dumpster before, so you just shook your head. If you were to transform now, it could be quite embarrassing.

Handing you a denim dress, Best Jeanist leaves to give you some privacy to change.

After you are dressed and back in human form, he took you to his office.

“I know you must have lots of question right now, but please allow me to explain somethings first.”

“The villain is in bad shape. You did quite a bit damage on him. His blood loss is immense; he is still in the ICU as we speak.”

Why don’t you just let him die, he’s a threat to society anyway. You ask yourself, silently.

“However, while he is a villain, you still hurt him too much. And it’s not even self-defence. You are not a hero, it’s illegal.”

You tense up. Would you face charges for this? For trying to protect other people.

“Would I go to Tartarus? For how long?”

“Oh, come now. As long as I have any say , I won’t allow that to happen.” Your eyes lit up, wanting to thank him.

“You can be my wife instead. Stay with me, and no charges would be pressed.”

What?

You know he likes you, but just asking to become his wife like that? Without dating first.

“Tsunagu, I... you...this...” He finds your stutters cute, as he traces his fingers along the edge of your wolf ears. Best Jeanist had been wanting to do that for so long, he worked so hard to restrain himself.

“Your choice. Either face court charges, or you can be with me, all is well.”

Tsunagu Hakamada is confident about his chances. An innocent, adorable civilian like you will not last long even in the most outer cells of Tartarus.

Tears slides down your chin as you give a reclutant reply. “I’ll...be with you.”

Who could have thought Tsunagu would do such a thing? He is always so nice and friendly. But now here he is, threatening you with this crime?

“Perfect.” Snapping a denim collar around your neck, he lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him. “I can’t wait to get you home; you would be such a lovely little wolf. My little wolf.”

“Should you ever try to leave me, I’m sure Tartarus is always avaliable.”

[meowmerson]

hi meowmers! just read your latest tomione fics and i'm so glad you're back here blessing us. would love to read your take on head boy & head girl tomione fic? or maybe an au where auror! hermione chases after dark wizard tom riddle

head boy head girl you say??????????????? one of my favorite tropes you say????????????????????????? I ACCEPT

–

Hermione knew it would be him. He was top of their class (a title she had been battling against him for since their first year) beloved by their professors and classmates, he was a natural-born leader, handsome, likable - it would have been outrageous for head boy to be anyone other than him.

Didn’t mean she had to like it.

Hermione always found something suspicious about Tom Riddle. She was certain she was the only one who thought so, save for maybe Harry, but then Harry was easily won over when people were kind to him. And Tom Riddle certainly went out of his way to be kind.

But he was mysterious. No one really knew where he was from - everyone knew he was an orphan, but no one knew how, or where he lived now. Everyone just thought he was a poor tortured soul and that those things should never be mentioned.

He had a close circle of friends who followed his every command and cowered in the face of his glare. She had seen Malfoy once laughing and subsequently cowering from nothing but a look from Tom Riddle, nothing more than a glance, and suddenly Malfoy was swallowing his laughter and averting his eyes to the ground. Malfoy didn’t do that for anybody.

How could someone so allegedly kind strike that kind of fear into someone’s heart with nothing more than a glance?

He was fake, she had decided. He was nothing more than secrets upon secrets shrouded beneath a pretty face, a friendly smile, an intelligent mind. But there was something there, beneath the surface. Something secret, something dark.

And Hermione never liked liars.

“Would you just admit you want to ride his dick til you pass out so we can move on?” Lavender drawled from her bed in the Gryffindor seventh year room.

Hermione sputtered for a solid thirty seconds while Padma and Parvati absolutely killed themselves laughing. Ginny, who was lounging on Padma’s bed while the twins lay together on Parvati’s, stared at Hermione awaiting her reaction with unrelenting glee.

“Lavender!” Hermione finally managed to choke out, bringing on another round of obnoxious laughter from the girls.

“Oh come on, Hermione,” Lavender said, “You have wanted to hop on that since first year!”

“I have absolutely no idea what you are–”

“Oh, look at him Hermione!” Ginny said, “That boy is sex on legs,”

“Whether or not he is sex on legs is not the point!” Hermione snapped, “Have you been listening to anything I’m saying? I have to share a living quarters with a boy who–”

“So you admit he’s sex on legs then?” Lavender interrupted.

“Ugh!” Hermione pushed herself to her feet, “I am finished with this conversation. I’m leaving.”

“Make sure you get back before curfew starts,” Padma said, and Parvati added, “Or Riddle will need to punish you!”

“Fuck all of you!” Hermione swore, and the uncharacteristically foul language sent the girls into another round of laughter.

–

She tried to speak to Harry and Ron.

Ron said, “Ah, this is about how badly you want to snog Riddle then, is it?”

Harry laughed, and Hermione picked up the bottle of firewhiskey they had snuck in and poured it out the window as revenge.

–

She put off returning to the common room as long as she could. Guiding the first years around had been alright, mostly because they split up those responsibilities and didn’t take them together, but they would be doing rounds tonight, together, just the two of them, then returning to the Head’s common together.

It all felt very strange.

Tom was stood outside the portrait to their common room when she arrived. “You’re nearly late.” He said.

“Nearly,” Hermione agreed, “But not quite.”

“Meeting up with your friends?” He asked as they started down the hall. He always did this, attempted friendly conversation, as if they were familiar enough to do so. She nodded curtly. “Did you meet up with any of them over the summer?”

“No,” She answered. She didn’t elaborate.

“Ah,” He replied, seemingly nonplussed, “It must be nice to catch up, then.”

When would this torture end?

“Yes, it is.” Hermione agreed.

“And did you have a nice summer?” He asked.

She glanced toward him, but looked away before she caught his eye. He was peering around the corridor, keeping an eye out for any students out after curfew or first years who had gotten lost. She wondered what he was playing at, why he was trying to make friendly conversation. What did he have to gain, here? What did he want?

“Miss Granger?” He pressed.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you had a nice summer.” She looked toward him again, and this time his eyes were fixed on her.

“Did you?” She asked, just to see the twitch in his brow in response. He did that sometimes, little ticks to show that his endless patience wasn’t really so endless. She loved to see it, see those glances into whoever he was behind his mask of perfection.

“Yes.” It was the shortest response he’d given her that night.

“Oh,” She said, and offered him a strained smile, “Yes, I did.”

He didn’t speak to her for the remainder of the evening, except for a polite ‘have a good night’ when they returned to the common room.

It felt like a win

–

They split up rounds, after that. They worked on a one night on, one night off schedule, trading off. It wasn’t typical for head boy and girl to do this, but Hermione had suggested it, and Tom hadn’t argued.

He never did, she found out. He had debated her countless times in class, but they had never had a personal conversation before this year, and it seemed no matter what she said, what she suggested, he tended to agree.

She didn’t understand what he was up to.

Her friends wouldn’t stop relentlessly teasing her, and wouldn’t listen to a single one of her suspicions. And why would they? She didn’t have anything to go on, just this feeling in her gut.

Maybe it was just an issue of attraction.

He was handsome, certainly, and extremely intelligent. He impressed her, and it had been a while since she had met someone who genuinely impressed her. He had a way with people that she always lacked, everyone liked him, maybe it was jealousy. Or maybe it was the way she had so often caught herself thinking about him over the year, wondering what it would be like to know him, for him to know her.

Was this feeling nothing but her own convoluted emotions making her over paranoid?

Living in close quarters to Tom was easy. He kept to himself, didn’t invite anyone over, she would only see him if he was reading in front of the fireplace in their shared common area. She never saw him up to no good, never heard strange noises or saw strange things. He was perfectly normal, perfectly good, perfectly perfect.

She was beginning to doubt herself.

“You know,” Harry told her once, “I thought I hated Draco for ages until I realized I just like blokes.”

“But you also hated Draco,” She reminded him.

“True,” He agreed, and shrugged, as if that didn’t really matter.

–

It was her turn for rounds, and she was dutifully making her way through her assigned route. It was a quiet night, she hadn’t run into any first-years sneaking around the castle, or third-years finding their way to the kitchens, or sixth-years hooking up in abandoned classrooms. She was grateful especially for the last one, she hated stumbling upon that.

She was about ready to finish, head back up to her room and go to bed, when she saw the slightest glow under a classroom door.

It only lasted for a moment before it was gone, like a candle being burnt out, or a spell being cast. She crept toward the door, it was probably a couple of naked teenagers again, trying to get their rocks off in the potions classroom. She pressed her ear against the door to see if she needed to knock or if she could barge in.

She could hear nothing.

She moved away, furrowed her brow. There was definitely someone in there, but they put up a silencing charm. Definitely a couple. She went to open the door, it was locked. So she cast an Alohomora, and to her surprise, nothing happened.

Something icy settled in her stomach. She could only think of one person that she could imagine casting such advanced locking charms. But it wasn’t his night for patrols, and she thought he was in his room.

She was being paranoid. She knew she should knock and demand whoever is in there comes out immediately, deduct house points for being out late and finish her rounds. She shouldn’t be overdramatic about this, lest she look like a fool.

She blew up the lock and removed the silencing charm.

She heard a boy yelp as she pushed the door open. There was a bit of smoke from the exploded lock that had to clear before she could see what was going on inside the room.

Malfoy stood inside, his eyes wide and wet, and Tom stood opposite, looking like he was trying very hard not to look angry.

“What is going on in here?”

“Miss Granger,” Tom said calmly, “Was blowing the lock truly necessary?”

“Was locking and silencing the room truly necessary?” She replied, but she was quickly distracted by Malfoy. He looked terrified, he was blinking rapidly, his eyes wet, and he was shaking like a leaf. She glanced between the two of them, Malfoy looking traumatized, and Tom looking the picture of poise, his eyes locked on her.

She wondered what could have been happening before she opened that door.

“Are you alright?” She asked Malfoy quietly.

“Draco sometimes has nightmares,” Tom answered, “It’s not something he is particularly open about. I was trying to give him a space to calm down with a bit of privacy.”

Hermione watched Tom for a long moment, examined the friendly tilt of his lips into an almost-smile,  the gentle tone of his voice. He was for all intents and purposes, a dedicated friend.

Hermione wasn’t buying it. “I asked Malfoy.” She said.

Something changed in Tom’s expression then, something she hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t just the twitch of his eyebrow or a slight, barely present frown. His whole face went startlingly blank, and his eyes became sharp. She had never seen his eyes like that, focused and intense.

She looked back to Malfoy, who stared back and forth between them with wide eyes. “Malfoy.” She repeated.

He looked at Tom first, who met his gaze. Malfoy then looked back to her, and finally spoke, “Yes,” He said, and the breathiness of his voice made Hermione wonder what had been happening before she interrupted. Did people really sound like this just from crying from a nightmare? “I get night-terrors. Tom was simply calming me down.”

Hermione didn’t like the way Tom turned back to her with a smile. “If you don’t mind, Ms. Granger,” He said, “I’ll take care of Malfoy.”

Malfoy had not stopped shaking.

“I can take him back to his common room,” Hermione said, “It isn’t your night for rounds, Mr. Riddle.”

“I would rather Tom takes me back to the common room.” Malfoy interjected.

There was nothing more Hermione could do then, except look sadly at the state Malfoy was in and ask, “Are you sure, Draco?”

She used his first name on purpose. Malfoy blinked at her, and Tom turned his head slowly to look at her as she said it. She didn’t look at Riddle, kept her eyes on Malfoy and waited for his response.

He nodded, so there was nothing else she could do.

“Fine,” She nodded, and didn’t look at Riddle when she added, “Take him straight back to his common room, it’s after curfew and I don’t want to have to deduct house points.”

“Of course, Hermione,” Tom said.

It was the first time he ever used her first name.

–

Hermione didn’t see Tom that night, and she left her room early that morning.

She didn’t see him until breakfast.

“I need to tell you something,” She said to Harry and Ron, “Something I saw last night.”

“What is it?” Ron said through a mouth full of food.

She looked around the Great Hall. Tom Riddle hadn’t made his appearance yet, but Malfoy was at the Slytherin table. He looked normal, his typical haughty self, it was as if last night had never happened. But Hermione couldn’t chake the memory of his expression, frightened and shaking like a leaf.

“I was doing my rounds,” She said, looking back to Ron and Harry who were listening closely, “And I walked in on Riddle and Malfoy.”

“Doing what?” Harry asked.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione said, “They were in the potions classroom and had a silencing charm and complicated locking charm on the door.”

“Doing what, though?” Ron pressed.

“I don’t know!” Hermione protested, “I can’t imagine what they could have been doing, but–”

“Were they fucking?” Ron asked outright.

Hermione sputtered for a moment, “No!” She said, “Well, I–I don’t think so. No. Malfoy looked terrified.” She thought of the two of them, standing there, Riddle’s calm stance, Malfoy’s wide, wet eyes. “No, definitely not. I blew the lock and walked in unannounced and they weren’t even touching, no clothes askew.”

“Wait,” Harry interjected, “You blew the lock?”

“Yes.” Hermione confirmed.

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, “Why’d you do that?”

“I couldn’t unlock it.” Hermione shrugged, not understanding the fuss. “That’s not the point.”

“So what did they say?” Harry asked.

“They said something about Malfoy having nightmares,” Hermione sighed, “That he needed to calm down, and Tom was helping him.”

Ron shrugged, “Sounds believable to me.”

“Does it?” Hermione asked, astounded, “Does it actually?”

“Yeah, why not?” Ron asked, and commenced shoveling food into his face again, “They’re friends, aren’t they?”

“Riddle doesn’t have friends,” Hermione protested, “Have you ever heard him call anyone by their first name? Have you ever seen him spending time with someone outside what is absolutely necessary?” She didn’t miss Ron rolling his eyes, but she ignored it, “Something was going on, I’m sure of it. I’m just not sure what.”

“What does Malfoy have nightmares about?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know, Harry!” Hermione replied, exasperated, “That’s not the point.”

“The point is,” Ron said through another mouthful, “Hermione is pissed her boyfriend was canoodling with another guy.”

“Ronald.” Hermione said sternly.

“Hermione.”

That wasn’t Ron. That wasn’t Harry. Hermione looked up to see Tom Riddle stood behind her two best friends, a small, friendly smile on his face. Ron’s eyes practically bulged out of his skull when he turned to see who was behind him, and he turned back to Hermione to raise his eyebrows and she knew what he was trying to say to her without words, ‘he calls you Hermione, huh?’

“Riddle.” She greeted, pointedly avoiding his first name.

“I was hoping I could speak to you.” Tom said.

“No.” Hermione replied, secretly delighted by the slight falter in his smile, “I’m in the middle of a conversation.”

“We just finished, actually!” Harry chirped, smiling at Tom and then turning back to Hermione, “Go ahead, ‘Mione. It’s fine.”

She wanted to kill Harry.

“Fine.” She said, and stood slowly, “We can talk.”

“Excellent.” Tom said.

They were on opposite sides of the long table, and the distance from where she was sat to the main door of the great hall felt like a funeral procession. She glanced toward him, over the heads of the students at the Gryffindor table. He looked straight ahead, his hands clasped behind his back, his head held high. He had excellent posture and a perfect mask. It felt dreamlike, walking alongside him with only a table full of oblivious students between them.

Once outside the Great Hall, Tom walked beside Hermione until they reached a relatively quiet corridor. It was lined with windows that overlooked the courtyard. Sunlight streamed in, and they stopped in the light of one of the windows, but Tom stood just outside of the sunlight.

She waited for him to speak.

“You blew the lock off the door.” Was the first thing he said. She didn’t understand why everyone was so hung up on that.

“Yes.” She confirmed, “You cast very complicated locking spells.”

He smiled tightly, “We wanted privacy.”

“What for?” She asked.

He paused, examined her for a quiet moment. Hermione wasn’t sure what he hoped to find, but he stared into her eyes for what felt like a very, very long time before speaking again, “Forgive me to saying so, Hermione,” He used her name again. She didn’t know why he did that. “But you seem suspicious of me.”

“Is there something I should be suspicious of?” She asked.

“I certainly don’t think so,” He laughed, “I told you the truth last night, I’m sorry if it appeared suspicious.”

“Why was he so afraid of you?” She tipped her chin up, tried to search his eyes for some kind of answer like he seemed to try to do with her.

He laughed, “Hermione,” He said her name again, she felt something uncomfortable coil in her gut, “He was not afraid of me. I don’t believe anyone has any reason to be afraid of me.”

She didn’t believe him. That was the strangest thing about all of this - despite his nice smile and his kind words, she couldn’t find it within herself to believe him no matter how she tried. But it would do no good to say so, so she looked away and said, “Of course. Forgive me, I’m a bit on edge.”

“Are you alright, Hermione?” He asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

You can stop lying to my fucking face, she thought. But she just smiled tightly and shook her head.

He reached out, gently laid his hands on her arm, and it took everything in herself not to flinch. “Let me know if you need anything.” He said kindly, “Perhaps we can start doing rounds together?”

She didn’t like the idea of spending any more time around him than absolutely necessary. But then she didn’t like the idea of him galavanting around Hogwarts at night, either. At least this way she could keep an eye on him.

“Alright,” She agreed, “Let’s do that.”

He smiled, and let his hand linger just a moment too long on her arm.

–

Hermione cornered Malfoy in the library.

“Draco,” She greeted, sitting down across from him where he was reading. He looked up, and promptly blanched.

“What the fuck do you want, Granger?” He snapped.

“Just checking in.” She said, “How are you feeling?”

He stared at her for a very long time, a sneer steadily spreading across his face. “Fine.” He spat.

“No more nightmares?” She pressed.

There was a split second, barely there at all, where his brows started to press together, and he looked confused. It was gone in a flash, and he averted his eyes and followed along, but it was all Hermione needed to know she was right. “Yeah, nightmares…” He agreed, “I’m fine, Riddle helped.”

She leaned closer, folding her arms on the table in front of her. “But it wasn’t really a nightmare, was it?”

Malfoy grit his teeth. “What are you on about?”

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” Hermione repeated, “It was something else, right?” Malfoy was glaring fiercely at her now, “What happened to you in there? Why were you so scared?”

“Granger,” He started, and it sounded like a warning. Hermione ignored it.

“What did he do to you?” She pressed, “Malfoy, if you tell me, I can help you.”

Abruptly, Malfoy slammed his hands on the table and stood. He leaned toward her, and in a quiet tone, he furiously spoke, “I have never once asked for help from a mudblood,” Hermione sat back, the word sinking deep into her chest. She blinked once and willed herself not to show how it bothered her, “And I won’t start now.”

She stood and slammed her hand down on his book, let her magic seep out through her fingertips to set it on fire.

She left him there, frantically stamping out the flames, and felt foolish for caring.  

–

She was studying in the heads common room. She didn’t usually do that, opting to study in her room instead, but she wanted a change in scenery, so she sat on the floor of the common room by the fire, taking in its warmth and focusing on her coursebook.

She didn’t expect Tom to sit in the chair across from her by the fire.

She glanced up, and saw he was staring at her intently. He hadn’t greeted her yet, just stared. It was evening time, and the room was dark except for the fire. She watched the glow play along his features, and felt something strange in her belly.

“Hello, Riddle.” She greeted first, because he wasn’t saying anything yet.

“Hermione.” He greeted, and smiled a small, private smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” She answered, “Why?”

“I heard about your conversation with Malfoy.” He explained, and she felt herself go cold despite the warmth of the fire.

She didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure what she was meant to say.

He pursed his lips for a moment, then moved from the chair to sit on the ground across from her. “Hermione,” He said quietly, “I heard about what he called you.”

She suddenly felt very confused. She thought he would ask why she was still asking about him, still acting like he was suspicious. She couldn’t fathom why he, a Slytherin who had absolutely used that word before, would be concerned because someone called her a mudblood.

It wasn’t precisely that it didn’t bother her. It did. Every time someone called her by that name it made her feel angry, upset, ashamed, all at the same time. But she was used to it, to some extent.

“He’s called me that before,” She finally answered, “I know you’ve used that word before.”

“Not against you.” He argued.

A strange argument, because it hardly mattered who he used it against.

“Regardless,” She continued, “You’re hardly in a position to comfort me if someone calls me a horrible name.” His brow twitched, “Besides, it isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. I’m fine.”

“I’ve spoken to him,” Tom said, “He won’t call you that again.”

She felt well and truly lost. She couldn’t hide the confusion on her face even if she tried.

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned with other parts of our conversation?” She asked.

It was a foolish thing to ask him, but she couldn’t help herself.

He laughed, glanced away for a moment to look into the fire. Hermione found herself unwillingly fixating on the glow of his cheeks, the slope of his nose, the way the firelight danced in his dark eyes and made them glow red.

“Do you know what I think, Hermione?” He asked, still looking into the fire. She didn’t answer, and after a moment he looked back at her, and there was something in his gaze that made her stomach twist. “I think there are better things we could be doing than fighting each other.”

Hermione suddenly found herself rather short of breath. There was no mistaking what he was implying, his tone of voice and the weight of his eyes made it very clear. Though for all of the female attention Tom Riddle received, she had never heard of him being so forward. Quite the opposite - she had often heard girls bemoaning the fact that Tom was so standoffish, refused to make a move or pursue anyone, was nothing but a perfect gentleman at all times.

He was trying to distract her, she thought. It was the only explanation. He was trying to take her mind off of things that he didn’t want her to be thinking of.

She wondered…

She set her book aside, leaned toward him slowly. There was no sound except for the crackling of the fire. She watched his eyes as she leaned toward him, closer and closer until there were only a few inches between them. He watched her, sat as still as a statue. She paused, left a breath of space between them and watched his expression, but he showed no emotion.

Quietly, she spoke, and as she did, his eyes fell to her lips, “I would love to know what it is you think we should be doing, Tom Riddle.”

His eyes met hers again, impossibly dark. She didn’t notice he lifted his hand until she felt his fingers drag gently up her arm. He didn’t move closer, he left that decision entirely up to her. Clever, she thought. To let her believe she is entirely in control, to ease any thoughts of suspicions that he should be hiding something by distracting her but making it feel like it is her decision.

Briefly, she did consider the possibility of going through with it. It would grant easy access to his bedroom, and she could surely find all sorts of things in there to clear some of his mystery. But there was no guarantee she would have a moment in there without his watchful eye, and she felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought of sleeping with someone to get what she wanted.

She wasn’t like him.

She could feel the heat of him, as strong as the fire, blazing against her chest. She was struck by the uncomfortable thought that some part of her, buried beneath the suspicion and frustration and anger, would like to kiss him. It made her angry, the way some parts of him seemed to call to her, it made her deeply uncomfortable that the thought of being with him made her stomach twist with anticipation.

It especially infuriated her that all of this was only a show. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that someone like Tom Riddle - intelligent, poised, enigmatic, Slytherin - would never look at her that way. He must think her a fool to fall for something as simple as this, to trip over herself because he gives her an iota of attention.

Hermione tilted her head. He still hadn’t moved. She found it fascinating, the way he held himself so still, allowing her to make all the moves. Somehow she doubted someone like him, someone capable of instilling os much fear in his friends, would be so submissive in matters like this.

“How stupid do you think I am?” She asked, breaking the silence with nothing more than a whisper. He blinked, a slight pinch to the centre of his brow. “What kind of simpering fool do you take me for?”

His hand dropped. “Hermione,” He started, but she caught his hand by the wrist and he fell silent once more.

“Perhaps next time,” Hermione spat, “We can come from a place of mutual respect, rather than pretending I am like every other person you have ever seduced, intimidated, or threatened into doing what you want.” His face was carefully blank, but he didn’t interrupt, he didn’t move, didn’t even pull his hand away. “You can start by telling me what was happening with Malfoy the other night, and then perhaps I can withstand your present long enough to have a conversation.”

He didn’t say anything, so Hermione turned to pick up her book and began to stand. Tom Riddle caught her by her wrist before she could get far, so quick and so sudden that he startled her. She dropped her book as he pulled her back down, and in a tone sounding very unlike him he spoke.

“How about we start with you telling me something,” He said, and she noted his voice was higher when he was angry, sharper, more cutting. It wasn’t a nice sound, not like the way his voice usually sounded. “Why do you care so much about what happens to Malfoy?”

“So you admit it?” She pressed, “Something happened to Malfoy?”

“Don’t you know that he hates you?” He spat, and this version of him was so different than any version of him she had seen before. She took in every inch of him, the downward curl of his sneer, the slight wrinkle of his nose, the cutting gaze, the slope of his brow. There was even a slight flush to his cheeks, a sign of life that she hadn’t even noticed wasn’t there before. “More than he hates Potter, more than he hates anyone, he hates you. He find you repulsive, dirty—“

“I have never cared what Malfoy thinks of me and I won’t start now.” She interrupted.

“Then why do you give a shit about what happens to him behind closed doors?” His grip on her wrist was bruising, but she wouldn’t flinch. This was the most brutal, honest display he had ever shared with her, and she wouldn’t miss a moment, wouldn’t shy away, not now when she was getting exactly what she asked for.

“Because it doesn’t matter how much of a bigoted arsehole someone is,” Hermione spoke through gritted teeth, “Doesn’t mean they deserve to be tortured.”

It surprised even her when she said it. She wasn’t sure what precisely it was she suspected when she found Malfoy shaking and terrified in that room with Riddle, hadn’t thought on the details too much. But it made sense to her somehow that someone so perfect and so poised, so falsely kind, could only be capable of horrible, unspeakable things.

Tom’s face closed off immediately, and any and all emotions she had been rewarded with was suddenly gone. His eyes went blank, cold, and a dead smile stretched across his lips. “Oh Hermione,” He murmured, “What a dark imagination you have.”

She snatched her wrist out of his grip, and realized a moment after he did that her hands were shaking. His eyes followed the movement of her hands as she picked up her book and pressed it against her chest.

“I’m not so easily fooled, Riddle,” She said as she stood, “You can deny it all you want, but we both know I’m right.”

“You always are, aren’t you?” He asked, his tone mocking, looking up at her from his place on the ground.

Such a strange and unusual stalemate, she thought, standing her him while he stared up at her with cold, emotionless eyes. She was too quick to call him out, it was too sudden, and because of that they were back to square one. He hadn’t admitted it, but he hadn’t denied it, and he hadn’t lashed out at her either. She might’ve expected more anger in light of her accusations, but he just sat there, the picture of ease, staring up at her as if he had nothing to worry about.

She didn’t say anything in return, instead she stormed to her room, shut the door, and cast three separate locking charms.

She didn’t sleep well that night.

—

Hermione wasn’t sure what she expected the following morning, but seeing Tom Riddle waiting for her on the couch in the common room stopped her in her tracks.

“Hermione,” He greeted.

“Riddle,” She replied, pointedly refusing to use his first name. “What do you want?”

“I’d like to walk you to the Great Hall.” He answered, standing smoothly. She narrowed her eyes.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because I’d like to show you something.” He answered vaguely.

She didn’t like this, it gave her an uncomfortable feeling, but she wasn’t sure what else she could do. If she resorted to violence, its more than likely people would side with Riddle. Running away would do no good, as they went to school together, shared multiple classes, and slept in rooms next to each other. Not to mention, the idea of running away felt cowardly as well as foolish.

She sighed through her nose and nodded, approaching him with measured steps. He held his arm out to her with a smile as if to guide her, and she ignored it.

They walked in silence. He didn’t try to speak to her and she had no interest in speaking to him. She paid close attention to the corridors, trying to see if any of his friends were lurking about, ready to jump her. She kept a hand on her wand at all times, ready for anything, but nothing happened.

When they neared the Great Hall, she saw a head of white blonde hair lurking outside the entrance. She glanced at Tom momentarily, then looked ahead, tightening her grip on her wand.

Malfoy straightened as they approached, and Hermione readied herself for…for what, she wasn’t sure. It seemed foolish to start something right outside the great hall, and Malfoy didn’t have his wand in hand. His eyes were trained on the floor as they neared him, and he didn’t look up.

“Malfoy.” Tom greeted.

“Riddle,” Malfoy returned, and then more quietly, “Granger.”

Hermione had no idea what was happening, even less so when Malfoy squared his shoulders and spoke.

“Granger,” He repeated, louder this time, somehow managing to sound haughty and arrogant even while his eyes were trained on her shoes, “I apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was inappropriate and uncalled for.”

Hermione was at a loss of what to say. At her extended silence, Malfoy glanced up at her, and then toward Tom. His eyes quickly fell to the ground again, and to Hermione’s utter shock, he lowered his head in what was almost a bow.

She had seen purebloods do this often, mostly to their elders, bow their heads in respect. They rarely did it to anyone on their level, classmates or colleagues, and certainly never did it to muggleborns. “Please, forgive me.” Malfoy said.

Hermione turned her head slowly to look at Tom, who was watching Malfoy with a blank expression, but something dance in his eyes, something almost gleeful.

She turned her head back to see Malfoy, head still bowed. “I forgive you.” She said quietly, and watched the way his shoulders sag, like he was expecting differently.

He straightened, tipped his chin up and nodded before heading into the Great Hall. Hermione watched the empty space where he had just stood.

Tom started to move, but Hermione caught his arm before he could enter the Great Hall. “What in Merlin’s name was that?” She hissed.

“A gift,” He said, and stepped close to her, so close that she had to lift her chin, tip her head back to meet his eyes. “Did you like it?”

“What are you doing?” She asked quietly, and he smiled.

“You don’t like it then?” He surmised, looking like he was enjoying this far too much.

“What did you do to him to make him do that?” She snapped, keeping her voice low.

He dipped his head just a bit, and whispered, “Nothing more than he deserved,” Then he straightened up again, and continued, “Don’t you like him better this way?”

“What are you doing?” She repeated, quickly losing her temper.

Tom Riddle smiled, an unusual thing, because it wasn’t just a quirk of his lips. It was a fully-fledged smile, one that showed his teeth, dimpled his cheek. Hermione felt that smile deep in her belly, twisting and tugging, shortening her breath. “It’s time for breakfast.” Is all he said.

“I’m not eating with you.” She said, furious at how breathy her voice sounded.

“I would be surprised if you did.” He answered.

He took her gently by the arm, and it was only then she realized she had never let go of his arm. She let go as if burned, but didn’t shy away from the gentle fingers on her arm. He guided her toward the entrance to the great hall, and waited until they had entered, until they had caught the gaze of the students nearest to the entrance, before he dropped his hand and nodded his farewell, heading toward the Slytherin table.

Hermione ignored the twisting in her belly, the heat where this hand had touched her arm, and wondered what it meant that when she turned her head to peer over the heads of all the students as she walked toward her table, Tom Riddle’s eyes were still fixed on her.

[valhallanrose]

The Glacier House

This is a rewrite of A Kindling, of Sorts. While the same premise, it is vastly different in terms of content. Astoria is still thirteen, as is Sachairi, and Edrine is twelve, and this fic occurs two years after Canary in a Coal Mine. 

Pronouns used in this fic: Astoria (she/they), Edrine (she/they/he)

Edrine refers to Avery as “Ava”, pronounced ‘Ah-vah’, rhyming with Mama, as a parental endearment. 

4.6k words. Cautionary CW for discussions of food and some real shitty parenting.

Title: The Glacier House by The Crane Wives

In the early hours of morning, Castle Kintyre began to stir, the hearths burning high to combat the mid-winter cold and staff passing through the halls to begin their duties for the day. Many of the Canonach family would not wake for a while yet, emerging slowly over the course of the next few hours to stumble to the breakfast table for their morning caffeination. 

Of all the children who lived in the castle, only one would willingly rise with the sun, leaving Catriona the sole person awake in their bedroom that morning. 

They slowly pushed themself up from the cushions and yawned, stretching their arms over their head as far as they could go until their back popped. And then they stretched out their legs, a little quicker than they meant to, only for their foot to come into contact with a head of curly hair. 

Edrine yelped, bolting upright with a bleary expression on her face and her curls sticking up in nearly every direction as she rubbed a hand over her face. 

“Ow...Catty, why’d you kick me?” She mumbled, yawning and covering her mouth with one hand. “That was rude. We haven’t even had breakfast.”

“Would you prefer I kick you after breakfast?”

“At least it’d be a respectable hour.” Edrine swung out a foot, launching her toes into the remaining slumbering party’s side with a dramatic sigh. “Get up, Sachy, if I have to be awake, you have to be awake. I don’t think Catriona actually sleeps.”

The child in question scoffed, gathering the cushions up and tossing them loosely on the bed. “I do sleep. I simply prefer not to spend all morning sleeping like you lot.”

“Boohoo, I like to relax, is that such a terrible thing?”

“Both of you, shut up.” Sachairi groaned as he pressed his face into a throw pillow. “The hour is ungodly and one of us has to have the beauty rest to be the pretty one.”

Edrine let out a cry of indignation and smacked him with a pillow as Catriona pointedly ignored them both, picking up the brush from the vanity and carefully pulling it through their hair. They would continue to watch with some amusement before Sachairi sat up, eyeing Catriona skeptically.

“Wait, you’re actually getting ready? Why? It’s hours before breakfast is ready.”

“Well, cousin, if you actually got up early, you’d know at this hour you can raid the kitchens and get nearly anything you want. I for one don’t like to dodge Erskine’s grubby hands to get to the butteries every morning.”

“Erskine?” Edrine echoed, and Sachairi nodded with a grimace. 

“Aunt Flora’s kid. They’re two and they tend to always have sticky hands, no matter how often they’re washed. Good thinking, Catty.”

“It may shock you, but I am, in fact, intelligent.”

“Shocking.” Edrine drawled, only to yelp and laugh as Catriona turned around and whipped the nearest throw pillow at them with a look of wild indignation on their face. She threw it back, and the room dissolved into chaos, laughter mixing with the morning birdsong through the cracked window 

They didn’t notice the bedroom door open until Sachairi threw a pillow that sailed through the opening and smacked firmly against Myrna’s face, all three of them freezing in place as it dropped quietly to the floor and left her startled expression in its place. 

Myrna lifted a brow, adjusting her grip on her cane so she could lean down to pick up the offending pillow. She dusted it off and weighed it in her hand, considering it before she looked up to look at the children again. 

“Who threw this?”

The trio looked at each other nervously for a moment before Sachairi sheepishly raised a hand. 

“I’m sorry, Aunt Myrna, I didn’t know you were -”

Sachairi was promptly cut off as Myrna whipped it back, hitting his chest and making him take a step back - only to trip over a few pillows on the floor and falling square on his ass. Catriona slapped a hand over their mouth as Edrine buried her face in her pillow, laughter hardly muffled.

“Good throw, Sachairi, your arm is getting better.” Myrna’s lips twitched, as if threatening a laugh of her own, and she folded her hands over the top of her cane. “I just wanted to warn you all to be careful if you go out on the grounds today. Sholto, Grace, and Rabbie have decided to go hunting, and I don’t want anyone getting squished under a horse. Sounds fair?”

“Sounds fair.” They all chirped, and Myrna nodded, reaching for the doorknob and starting to pull the door shut. 

“Also, I’d get to the kitchens soon if I were you. I hear they’re making cinnamon-sugar scones as part of breakfast this morning, and you can get first dibs when the batch comes out.”

And, as if she knew what chaos would ensue, Myrna closed the door just as all three children exchanged a look and dove for their respective outfits that had been laid out the night before, taking turns in the bathroom to change and shoving each other around playfully to use the mirror attached to Catriona’s vanity. 

Stifling laughter as to not wake any still sleeping members of the family, they descended the stairs - arms linked, with Sachairi on the right and Edrine on the left and Catriona happily in the middle - and snuck into the kitchens. They peered around the corner through the bustling room, only for their eyes to zero in on the batch of scones on a tray left unattended on the counter. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Barclay boomed, making all three of them jump noticeably before Catriona turned and pouted up at him with the sweetest look they could muster. 

Barclay had been the head of the kitchens for as long as most of the family could remember, and while he was rather no-nonsense with the adults, he had a soft spot for the children in the family. Sort of like another uncle - not that any of the Canonachs needed more aunts and uncles - who kept an eye out for them and made sure they took care of themselves. But he was uncannily quiet in step, meaning none of the younger crew got away with truly stealing things so much as he just pretended not to see it. 

“Those just came out of the oven. You’ll burn your fingers.” He opened the warming cupboard over their head and pulled out a fabric wrapped bundle, depositing it neatly in Catriona’s arms. “Take these instead and scoot. And take an apple on your way out for my peace of mind.”

He waved his hands, shooing them away, but Catriona caught his smile when they called out a “Thank you!” over their shoulder and ran out giggling to find a place to eat. 

*     *     *     *     *

Catriona tended to avoid the breakfast table, usually full of some degree of bickering and healthy debate over clan affairs. It’d been especially intense since their mother had become Baroness, opening a door for new policy and leadership to see what new directions they could lead the clan in now that a new generation had come to the forefront. 

So instead, the three of them squeezed into a window nook overlooking the grounds, picking at their scones and watching the cattle in the distance through idle conversation. 

“You two don’t have lessons, do you?” Edrine asked around a mouthful of scone, and Catriona shook their head, idly twisting off the apple stem as they spoke. 

“No, we’re off until after Hogmanay. Our tutors are all going home for the holidays - our last lesson was the day before you all arrived.” 

Sachairi snorted, flicking his own apple stem at his cousin once he tore it free. “Like you’re not going to spend most of the holiday holed up in the library. If Edrine weren’t here, you’d probably be there right now.”

“Well, it’s not like I can do much else on my own. I don’t need to ask permission to read.” Catriona mused, and Sachairi nodded with a sigh, then elbowed their arm lightly. 

“Fair enough. Maybe we can ask Edrine’s parents to take us to Rosafearn, though. I think you’d like the decorations they’re putting up in the square.”

“Mama and Ava want to go, so I’m sure they’ll say yes.” Edrine piped up, leaning her head on Catriona’s shoulder. “Myrna told Ava that the hot chocolate is better here than it is in Ardaleith and they think she’s full of shit.”

Sachairi laughed around his scone, then choked, leaving Catriona to frantically smack his back until he stopped coughing and waved them off. Edrine seemed completely unbothered, taking the opportunity to instead break a piece off his scone when he wasn’t paying attention. 

“You don’t think your mom will come with us, do you?” 

Catriona shook their head, dusting off their hands of the cinnamon and sugar and folding the fabric napkin neatly in their lap. “Probably not. She’s been all about the ‘new happy family’ since Malcolm was born, so I think she’ll leave us be. Fine with me, though, mother always makes things weird with Avery.”

Edrine nodded and sighed, lacing her fingers together behind her head and leaning back against the windowpane. “Yeah...Ava won’t tell me, but I think they had an argument a while ago. Baroness Senga didn’t even invite us this year, Malvina and Myrna did. I don’t think she even said hello when we got here.”

“Auntie doesn’t like most of the clan leaders, so I wouldn’t take it personally.” Sachairi shrugged, then raised a brow at Catriona’s perplexed expression. “Contrary to what you may believe, I do listen to things.”

Both Edrine and Catriona looked incredulous at that, and Sachairi rolled his eyes, playfully shoving Catriona into Edrine’s side and shaking his head. 

“Whatever. Catty, since you’re done, can you go ask Avery or Rima if they want to go into town today?”

“You just want me to ask because you know Avery likes me.”

“It’s a strategy.” Sachairi lightly nudged them off the window seat, waving as they rolled their eyes and began the walk down the hall toward the guest wing where the Maollosas had been offered rooms. 

Catriona was happy to wander for a little while - they weren’t sure where Avery or Rima could be, so it was something of a necessity - and they hummed softly to themself as they passed through halls and the library and peered out windows to see if they had gone to the gardens, but knowing they couldn’t venture upstairs yet unless Sachairi or Edrine came to find them first. 

They were about to walk past the slightly cracked door to the dining room - the place the family usually shared their meals when there were no greater events in the castle - when they paused, hearing familiar voices drifting out into the quiet hallway. 

“You can’t avoid me forever, Senga.”

“I certainly don’t have to speak to you outside of clan affairs, and you are not here on clan business.”

Curious, Catriona crept closer, realizing that the first they heard was Avery and almost pushing the door open - and then freezing when they heard their mother’s voice in response. 

They peered in the gap in the door, watching with wide eyes as Avery put together a breakfast plate from the spread slowly being placed over the table. 

“You have every right to hold what happened over my head, but there’s no reason we can’t be civil when we share the same space, at least for the sake of Edrine and Catriona -”

“You do not get to speak to me about my child.” Senga’s plate clattered to the table, making Catriona jump slightly at the sudden sound. “I don’t want their name in your mouth until I hear an apology first, Maollosa, and being civil is not throwing you out the second I found out my mother invited you here.”

“Oh, only surnames now? Fine, we’ll play it your way.” Avery set their plate down far more neatly, popping a berry into their mouth. “I regret that I created an issue in your home and I apologize for what resulted, but I won’t apologize for my actions. You did a bloody awful thing, keeping the truth from Catriona, and it was high time someone told them.”

“It was not your place -”

“When would you have told them? When they turned sixteen, in the middle of their declaration? ‘Surprise, Catriona, you’re an heir to the nation, but we didn’t think you deserved to know that until we announced it to the rest of Rosinmoor. Hope you don’t mind!’” 

“Well, what you did certainly wasn’t much better, was it? They were inconsolable, Avery, blubbering absolute nonsense about not wanting to be the oldest and asking me about abdication, of all things. It was too much for them, they’re fragile, you should know that if you think you know what’s best for them.”

Catriona slowly leaned out of the gap, still listening, but feeling the familiar burn of tears in the corners of their eyes as they leaned against the wall beside the door and let out a shaky sigh.

So it was their fault, then. They wondered idly if they should apologize to Avery for getting so upset all that time ago, or if it were too late now. 

Avery’s voice rose slightly, their calm exterior breaking as Senga’s own tone changed to one of anger that Catriona knew well.

“Gods above, Senga, maybe they do want to abdicate, maybe they’ll change their mind, but that doesn’t change how large of a secret you kept from them. Catriona -”

“Do not say their name -”

“Catriona is not as fragile as you think they are, which you’d know if you gave them more than scraps of your time and attention.” Avery hissed. “We told Edrine at eight - eight - with at least an age appropriate version so she wasn’t blindsided when other clans started asking questions. This is an unavoidable fact of our lives, and they should know what choices they have to make one day, no matter how much time you can give them before you have to step down.”

“It doesn’t matter, Avery, the outcome would have been the same no matter when I told them. Get off your high horse and let it go. That’s how you can get your civility.”

There were a few long, heavy beats of pause where Catriona dared peek back inside, only to quickly lean back out of sight 

They’d never seen Avery look so angry. 

“What the hell do you mean ‘the outcome would have been the same’?”

“Catriona knows their obligations to the clan, and I won’t allow them anything other than what they’ve been raised for all these years. As the oldest, it is the duty they were born for. I would think you of all people, with your own child as your heir, would understand that.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t understand how you can look that child in the eye, see how miserable they are the way they’re living now, and insist that what you’re doing is right. I don’t understand why it is so important to you that Catriona be the next Baronet when Sachairi is only two months younger and just as capable, and seems to actually be interested in -”

Avery suddenly stopped mid sentence, and by Senga’s snarled ‘what?’, must have been making some clear expression that revealed their train of thought. 

“Son of a bitch, you did it on purpose.” Avery said, so quiet that Catriona had to strain to hear. “You had them to make sure that if you didn’t get the title, you could get your hands on it through them. You were third in line, but if Grace or Quinn had taken the Barony, Sachairi still wouldn’t be heir because you had a child first.”

Catriona’s heart stalled in their chest, eyes fixed on the door as if staring through it to look at the place where they heard their mother’s voice last. 

Please, mother, say it’s not true. Say that something, anything, please, please -

“And if I did?”

She hadn’t denied it.

Catriona nearly crumpled, staggering back from the door and turning to run, not caring in the slightest if their mother or Avery heard their footsteps as they raced through the passages to try and find somewhere to hide. The tears welled up and began to spill over, but they clasped a hand over their mouth to try and stifle the sound as they ran blindly through the passages to try and reach their bedroom.

A part of them had wondered - they were smart, and some things they had been told simply didn’t make sense - and especially so since Avery had told them the truth, but to hear it confirmed made it feel like their heart was breaking into pieces. 

They paid no mind to their mother’s rules when they darted up the stairs, two at a time, trying to make it to their bedroom before they completely broke down -

Only to crash directly into their grandmother. 

Myrna stumbled, leaning hard on her cane with one hand and wrapping her arm around Catriona’s shoulders to catch them both until they both regained their footing. She’d hardly opened her mouth to ask if they were alright before she noticed the tears spilling down her grandchild’s cheeks as they rushed to apologize.

Finding their grandmother, the most comforting presence they knew, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

“I’m - I’m sorry, granny, I didn’t mean to -”

Myrna took a good look at them, really looked at them, then quickly pulled them back in for a hug that left Astoria burying their face in the fabric of Myrna’s shirt to try and stifle their whimpers. 

“Oh, please, darling, don’t apologize. I’ve suffered worse than a simple tumble.” Myrna kissed the top of their head, smoothing a hand over their hair for a moment before she cupped their cheek in one hand. “What’s wrong? I know you wouldn’t cry like this over a simple bump. Come, come, we’ll go sit. Take a breath for me, alright?”

Shakily, Catriona nodded, wiping her cheeks with her sleeves as Myrna gently led them to their bedroom and closed the door behind them. Myrna crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, and then gently patted the space beside her for them to sit. 

“Deep breaths, darling, I’ll be here.” Myrna set her cane aside to wrap both arms around Catriona, hushing them gently and rubbing a hand up and down their back to try and soothe them as best she could. “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me what happened, yes?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, they calmed, enough to try their best to recount what they’d overheard in the dining room, unable to meet Myrna’s eyes as they repeated the phrases that stuck out in their mind and refused to escape. They only managed to look up when they finished and their granny said nothing, the silence between them so thick and heavy they thought they could cut it with a knife.

Myrna looked like fury hardly contained - white knuckled grip on the quilt, expression dark, angrier than Catriona had ever seen their usually energetic grandmother in all their years. 

“Are you...are you mad at me, granny?” They asked timidly, shrinking back as Myrna shook her head slightly. “I know it’s bad to eavesdrop…”

“No, I’m not upset with you.” Myrna got out, eyes fixed on a spot on the carpet as her jaw visibly ticked. “But I am furious with your mother. The absolute nerve of her - Avery is a guilty party, starting this where anyone could hear, but far less so than her - 

They flinched as Myrna shot to her feet, cane abandoned as she paced slowly around the carpet. “Please don’t tell them I was listening, granny, mother would get so upset with me for spying…”

“That’s her own damn fault for saying it in the first place.” Myrna snarled, then froze when Catriona let out a small whimper at the intensity of her tone. 

She let out a breath, trying to calm herself down enough so that she could school her expression back into one of neutral calm. For as angry as she was...there were more important things at hand. 

Slowly, Myrna stepped closer, kneeling in front of Catriona after a bit of effort and clasping their hands tightly in both of her own.

“I want you to listen to me, and I need you to listen well. You understand?”

Catriona nodded, lowering their eyes to their clasped hands as Myrna leaned her forehead against theirs and let out a sigh.

“No human is perfect. I make mistakes, your great aunts and uncles and your cousins make mistakes, your father made mistakes in the time I knew him. Your mother is no exception - she has made many mistakes in her lifetime, Catriona, but you are not one of them, and damn her for making you think otherwise. There is not a day that goes by where I am not grateful for your birth, a day where I am not filled with joy when I come home and see the way you smile at me and welcome me back, a day where I do not love you for who you are and how proud I am to call you my grandchild.” 

Myrna squeezed their hands again as she heard Catriona sniffle, uncaring of the tears of her own that were beginning to slide down her cheeks. “Astor loved you. Balfour loved you, gods rest them both. Your cousins love you. I love you. You are so, so loved, my darling, and it breaks my heart to know that you have doubted it for even a moment as a result of someone else’s cruel words.”

She released Catriona’s hands to cup their cheeks, tilting their head down to press a few kisses to their brow. 

“What do I do, granny?” Catriona whispered, laying their hands over Myrna’s and squeezing their eyes shut. “Mum said...mum said she had me so I could be the Baronet, but I don’t…”

Myrna leaned back slightly, enough to look Catriona in the eye when she tipped their chin up and waited for them to tentatively meet her gaze despite the tears that filled both their eyes. 

“Damn the barony. Damn all of it, Catty, because the barony means nothing if you are not happy. No title, no amount of money, no amount of power, nothing is worth giving up your happiness. No matter what your mother says, you have a choice, and if that choice is throwing everything she wanted for you at her feet, then I will stand behind you because I know it is what you want. No one can make you be anything that you don’t want to be.”

Catriona tried to swipe at their cheeks, but the tears only fell faster before Myrna pulled them into a tight embrace right there on the fur rug beneath them both. They sat together a long, long while, Catriona’s face buried in Myrna’s neck and Myrna holding onto Catriona like she was afraid they’d disappear. It would only be when Catriona quieted that Myrna would speak up, her voice gentle and thick with emotion all her own that she’d been trying to keep at bay for the sake of comforting their grandchild.

“Sweetheart, I want you to think about something.” Myrna murmured, prompting Catriona to lift their head and look up at her to show she was listening. “I won’t be staying here after Hogmanay ends. I have to go north, up to Prakra to speak to some colleagues, and then I’ll be going to Firent to work on a dig site. I’ll be gone from here for about two months, perhaps longer if I’m asked elsewhere. But...I want you to think about coming with me this time.”

“Come with you?” Catriona echoed, and Myrna nodded, smoothing some of Catriona’s hair back from their face. 

“You’ve spent your whole life here in Rosinmoor. I want to give you the chance to see the world, see what’s beyond our home - give you a chance to see what you could possibly become.” Myrna swiped a thumb across Catriona’s damp cheek, smiling a little despite herself. “I want you to know that you have choices, and I want you to understand how much bigger life is than it is here at Castle Kintyre.”

“What...what about mom?”

“Your mother may be Baroness, but she sure as hell has no authority over me. If you tell me you want to go, you’re going, and if I have to fight tooth and nail to make it happen, I will.” Myrna let out a playful growl, prodding at Catriona’s sides with tickling fingers and smiling when a peal of laughter fell from their lips and they shoved her hands away. “You don’t have to decide now, but -”

Astoria shook their head, looking up at Myrna with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “No, I...I want to go. I want to go to Prakra, Firent, anywhere you go. I want to see it all for as long as you’ll let me. I just...don’t want to be here right now.”

A smile broke across Myrna’s lips, and carefully, she reached for her cane - not before bringing Catriona in for another tight embrace. 

“Trust me, my dear, you’re welcome to follow me anywhere. You’re far more welcome company than some of my other traveling companions.” She rose, gently nudging Catriona toward her wardrobe. “Pack your bags, darling.”

Surprised, Catriona stood, brows furrowing as she looked at Myrna. “Where are we going?”

“I have a little place down in Rosafearn. A cottage, where Balfour and I used to stay when we wanted to get away from the castle. I’m going to go get Edrine and Sachairi, and we can spend a few nights there so you can have some space away from home. I’ll deal with your mother later.”

*     *     *     *     *

Once they’d settled in at the cottage, Catriona nearly stumbled into the bed Myrna made up for them, kissing their brow and telling them she’d be back soon with her cousin, her friend, and their things to spend the rest of the holiday away from the castle. 

They didn’t know how much time it had been when the door cracked open, though by the time Myrna came back, the midmorning sun was peeking through the curtains just as the door cracked open and two familiar faces poked their heads inside. Catriona waved for them to come in, but didn’t move - not that Edrine seemed to mind, climbing into the bed beside them and cuddling up to their side. 

“Are you okay?” She whispered, and Catriona shook their head slowly, letting out a shaky breath.

“Not really.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“...not really.” They murmured, closing their eyes as they felt Sachairi drop into bed with them as well - his head resting on Catriona’s stomach and his legs hanging off the side. 

“That’s okay.” He said, finding their hand and giving it a squeeze. “We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Catriona nodded slowly, their other hand finding Edrine’s and squeezing them both tightly. 

“Thank you.” They breathed, feeling themself sink into the bed as Myrna gently closed the bedroom door and plunged them all into relative quiet. 

When the next morning came, they’d realize the exhilaration they felt at the sense of freedom for the first time in all their thirteen years, but for now…

For now they wanted to forget the world completely.

[the-darklings]

⤷ nsft alphabet | ❝john wick❞

Hi! Surprise. So with my burnout and general block with writing eating at me, I decided to flip the script and do something vastly different and completely out of my comfort zone. So here we are with a nsft alphabet. I will be doing one for Santino too (and possibly Hector + the Elder). So enjoy if this is your type of thing. If not, look forward to fluff alphabets in some not so distant future. Most questions are also broken down into two: reader and coa’s v (because the dynamic changes vastly here). Enjoy!

wc: 3.5k+ (I had things to say clearly lol) 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Straight up: aftercare KING. John is definitely the type to look after you. Everything from helping you clean up to bringing you some water/snacks even. Very gentle after even if quiet, but there is a softness to his face whenever he looks at you. Those moments after are his favourite because they’re all about closeness and the afterglow. He’s also the type to tell you how beautiful you look and that he loves you. While he’s not much of a cuddler, he will certainly allow you to nest yourself inside his arms after sex. He enjoys falling asleep with your warmth pressed into him and his nose buried in your hair. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He has strong hands and he knows how to use them. He knows they’re capable of terrible things but with you they’re used for nothing but pleasure (usually in the form of his fingers inside you while he keeps you still). When it comes to his partners, he’s definitely an ass man. He likes coming behind you and grabbing you by the hips, pulling you to him or holding onto you. When he’s fucking you, he tends to grab your hips/ass to drive himself deeper and make sure he’s hitting the exact right angle he wants. 

& V: Her hands. He loves watching them work on poison, loves seeing those deadly digits play with blades, too. He knows very well that her hands are no less dangerous than his own and she proves it often. His favourite thing, however, is watching those hands wrapped around his length, working on him mercilessly as she presses loving, hard kisses against his collarbone. Often her hands are all he needs. Especially when she makes a point of licking her palm or spitting on it before with a knowing curl of her lips. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Expect him to come inside you. There is a whole other level of intimacy attached to sex itself if he gets to come inside you. If it’s a case of more-than-one oragasm, then even better. When he pulls out, one of his favourite things to do is watch it as it drips out of you. Sometimes, on a rare occasion, he might even put his fingers back inside to make sure nothing escapes, all while pressing delicate kisses against your stomach.  

& V: Much like above, he adores coming inside her—it’s a whole other high having her so close to him. She often craves a second round right away and tries to get him hard again so he often fucks her while still feeling his cum from the first round inside her. It only turns him on more. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Won’t try it unless you suggested it first, but he likes using his belt to tie either your hands or tie you to the bed. He also likes it when the Baba Yaga angle comes into play though he won’t admit it. Mostly because with others it’s a matter of fear, but with you it’s more admiration because you know he would never willingly hurt you. If you tease him with his title, it’s only a matter of time before his self-restraint frays. 

& V: Another case of “never would say it out loud” but gets very turned on by seeing her in battle. Sex after battle tends to be more desperate and sloppy but something about that display of power gets to him like very few things do. Another big one is her driving his car. The harder she works that gear stick, the more he can’t wait for them to pull over and/or get to their destination so he can feel those hands on him again. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

John is experienced. He knows what he’s doing in almost every instance. He doesn’t boast of his experience, either, and it’s less to do with him having strings of lovers and more so general life experience. John is also very intuitive and has had a wide range of lovers in the past, hence the said experience. He knows how to take care of his partners and their needs incredibly well and can pick up quite easily on what they like in bed as well as the depth of their limits. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying, will include visuals)

THIS

& V: 

THIS

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

John is serious in general. Sometimes in bed it can come off as a bit too serious because he tends to be so focused on the actual act to go cracking jokes. Any jokes with him would likely come either before or after sex. 

& V: She is the one to do the joking most of the time but she also has a way of pulling a joking side out of him, too. More so than anyone else. That being said, if she’s teasing him then that means he’s not doing a good enough job if she’s still coherent. Which only drives him to fuck her harder and deeper. She’s perfectly aware of this and tends to do it on purpose. She likes the look in his eyes when he jerks her closer with a furrow of his brows, fingers sinking into her skin as he bottoms out. She can almost see the mental switch in gears. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

John is groomed. He takes care of his appearance, and the only times he might let it slip is if he’s stuck on a job for a long time or too busy fighting for his life. Other than that, he keeps it tidy. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

For John, sex with you is the ultimate show of trust and affection. Foreplay in itself (when there is time) is a show of his love for you so expect him to take his time preparing you. He will always try to get you to orgasm first and while he is not too verbal in general, he will be sure to show you how good you feel, taste, sound. Often watches your expressions, savouring every twitch of pleasure in his exploration to see what makes you feel the best and drives you to your peak first. If you try to turn away or hide your expression, he’ll grasp your face gently and turn your face back towards him as a way to remind you that you don’t have to hide from him.  

& V: He adores her. Simple as that. While all of the above still applies, he would also definitely want to be as physically close to her as possible. He wraps her up in his embrace, holding her close till their foreheads are practically touching. Sometimes holds her by the back of her neck but delicately and more so as a support for her when he increases the pace. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t do it that often because he has a pretty good lid on his emotions and urges. When it does happen, it’s if he’s been away from you for a while and/or is frustrated by the current job. When he does do it, he likes doing it in the shower. Quick and efficient, it’s also much easier to relax with a hot stream of water washing over him. It also helps to focus so he can pretend it’s your hands or mouth instead. 

& V: They can be apart for long periods of time for many reasons. Though John always tries to hold out for the real thing, sometimes his mind does...slip. She is so vivid in his mind that he can’t help it and sometimes imagines she’s right there with him. Her soft voice in his ear, hot and sinful, her deftly fingers trailing down his body, followed swiftly by her mouth. With an image like that burning behind his eyelids, it doesn’t take him long to come in his hand.  

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

John is not particularly kinky. For him passionate sex tops the list as his favourite. That being said, he does enjoy light bondage. Nothing that would ever frighten or hurt you but enough to send that thrill down both your spine. Another one, further down the line in the relationship would be submission. John is feared by all and hated by many. His strength is near uncrackable. But with you all those things fade away and he can allow himself to be something else, something more human and approachable. He becomes just John and the idea of letting/trusting someone enough to allow someone such an advantage over him is possibly the biggest sign of trust from a man who has lived his life trusting very few.     

& V: Lowkey hunter/prey except they’re both hunters trying to challenge the other to who has the upper hand. The thrill of having someone he can trust but someone he sees as his equal, always thrills something inside him. If the challenge is set, it’s always her that sets it (finding her, even time limits on how long he has) and she is not beneath leaving him high and dry should he act too slow. Like mentioned above, he enjoys submitting to her because he trusts her more than anyone. Also the sight of her riding him is something else entirely.   

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your shared bed at home where he can be sure you’re comfortable and safe and you can be as loud as you want. He always makes it a challenge to make you moan as loudly as possible and won’t be satisfied till you do. There have been a few cases of you visiting other places/cities and him taking you there too - sometimes more than once - but his favourite still remains your bed. 

& V: While not the most comfortable place in the world, certainly his car. He has a special preference for taking her on the hood of his car. The sight of her splayed across the gleaming surface, her body elevated where he can see every curve of her body perfectly, and watch himself slipping in and out of her so easily, coils every muscle inside his body. He keeps his hand pressed against her lower back in order to raise her hips at just the perfect angle, too. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

With John it’s the little things. Sometimes as simple as seeing you making yourself food. Other times it’s waking up to you wrapped around him. He especially loves it when you wear his clothes. He also really enjoys it when you reach out to kiss him first, and likes it when the said kiss gets heated wile you press into him so he can feel the dig of your hips and the curve of your breasts pressing into his chest. That whisper of promise that is your body is usually more than enough for him. Time and distance is another big one. If you have been away from each other for any significant period of time, then expect him to be more eager than usual to make up for the lost time. 

& V: her handling any type of weaponry but especially guns. Them working together as well.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No pain or humiliation of the partner or the other way around. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

John is more into giving than receiving and he has had plenty of experience with both. In general, he enjoys being the reason for someone’s pleasure and will make sure the build up is just as good as the act itself. He’s the type to kiss your inner thighs, letting the scruff on his face scratch against the sensitive skin as he watches your anticipation build. Usually works you with his fingers first before diving in. Speed varies but he’s not shy about it and will hold down your hips if you’re squirming too much. If you tug on his hair, it just spurs him on more. Don’t be surprised if you have beard burns against your inner thighs the next morning because he can be merciless. 

& V: She knows how to get him to let his guard down. He is a lot more open to receiving pleasure from her than he would be with most. That’s mostly because she simply knows with one look when he might need it. Many times she has simply given him a blowjob while they’re waiting for their target to appear inside his car. she can sense when he needs to blow some steam off or a distraction. In return, he takes his time with her. She doesn’t give in easily. She grumbles and snarls more so than moans and whimpers, and it only makes him more determined to draw those sounds of pleasure out of her. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on his mood but he certainly likes to take his time instead of rushing. John is more into deep, long strokes that enhance the sensual side of sex. Building excitement and pleasure are far more important to him. Sometimes his frustration can and will get the better of him. At which point he will very likely slam you against the nearest surface, lift you up in his arms with your legs wrapped around his waist, and pound into you with intensity that will leave you barely holding on and shuddering after he’s finished.  

& V: Same as the above applies but they tend to both be a lot more passionate as she often urges him on or yanks on his nerves more. This is mostly because she wants him to be rougher and he tends to indulge her. With her, he’s also more likely to be rougher because he knows she can handle it so he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally going too far. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Depends on his mood and time available. Usually not super into them because he prefers to go the whole nine yards so to speak, but depending on circumstances will engage in them occasionally. Mostly if he’s frustrated with you or some outside situation. There might also be a degree of desperation, if, for example, he believes he might never see you again but wants to steal one last moment together.  

& V: With their messy/busy schedules, they’re more likely than usual. They don’t happen that often but sometimes with the rush of everything going on they need the relief of each other’s body. She’s more likely to engage in it but he never refuses her. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Considering how much a risk his entire life is, he enjoys the security of knowing you are somewhere private. He also cares a lot about you being comfortable and safe. Location wise he might get a bit more adventurous but even then he would much prefer having you home and all to himself. Sometimes if you’re out and mingling with other people, you can tell his mind is starting to shift by the occasional look he gives you. Those usually mean it’s time to go home. In terms of trying new things in bed, it depends vastly on what it is. For John, like mentioned previously, it’s a lot more about intimacy so while he would be down to try anything you want, his actual enjoyment of it would depend. 

& V: Danger and risk are their bread and butter. She likes to challenge him with things he likely won’t try with others. If she challenged him to make her orgasm ten minutes before Winston walks through the door for a meeting, then she is the only one he would break his rules for and follow through. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s usually pretty good at drawing it out since he enjoys savouring the act itself. He wants both his pleasure and yours to last as long as possible. In terms of rounds sometime once is enough, but usually it’s more. John certainly has stamina to go for a long time so even if it’s once, he makes that once count. But it also depends on circumstances and his overall health. After a tiring job, his stamina levels may be down. Those are usually the times he prefers if you ride him.  

& V: She is usually eager for more than once. He is happy to oblige. If his health is poorer, she is fine with taking charge and simply letting him lay back and soak in the sight of her working herself furiously on his dick. She tends to work him to the bone, too, but he rarely gives in that easily. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Doesn’t really own any until you likely come into his life, though he knows plenty about them. If you bring some along with you, he won’t mind trying them on you. If he finds you with a vibrator then he will help you but won’t let you finish till he gets his hands on you. Would be into handcuffs as well. Because he can get out of them easily but he finds it amusing to see how seriously you are taking this. 

& V: Depends vastly. V’s trauma and fear of being tied down/kept captive would take a long time to get over. She is certainly the type that, if, they are apart for whatever reason, she buys a vibrator and fucks herself while she lets him listen over the phone, and only laughs at his near silent frustration because he can’t touch her. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

John is not a very verbal man in general. Teasing from him is more likely to come after sex and it’s more loving than designed to heat your blood. He’s too busy touching you/making you one with the mattress to have time for anything else. 

& V: She’s the one to tease the hell out of him - simple as. Best part is that unlike with others, she actually manages to get under his skin. If he teases her, it’s after, and she’s dozing in his arms when he points out how she was louder this time than usual which usually earns him a half-hearted slap on the chest. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

John is on the quieter side. You can expect low, deep grunts and exhales of breath against your skin/neck, the loudest of which will certainly be as he comes. His noises are more about how he feels in that moment and for you. If he speaks, it’s usually raspy mutters of how beautiful you are or/and how good you feel/take him. He might be slightly louder if you’re giving him a blowjob and do a good job of getting him worked up. 

& V: Feeding off from the above but he’s always the loudest when she’s giving him a blowjob. Something about the sight of her before him and the way she looks at him the entire time, eyes steady and sharp, as her pretty mouth wraps around him that undoes something inside him with startling ease. His shallow gasps for breath and the eventual grunt of pleasure is the most power he has ever given anyone over him. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Loves, adores, savours morning sex. It’s both the softest and best way to start the day. Often he already wakes up semi-hard just from having you close/wrapped around him and what follows is just easiest expression of love for him. 

& V: Prefers it when she calls out “Jardani” oppose to “John” during the high of sex. Just something about her knowing such a private part of him feels like she’s reaching out and connecting with him on an entirely different level. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

John is long, thicker than average, but not terribly so. When fully erect it tends to curve against his stomach while the tip turns a rosy shade of pink when ready to cum.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Again, depends. Mainly on his physical condition at the time since he wants to make sure that you get a pleasurable experience every time. In general though, he loves you so much that he wants you quite often. Usually, at least on a semi-daily basis.  

& V: They’re both pretty decent at holding out for each other, though she pushes more often. Sometimes he thinks he can last and then he sees her after a fight - bruised, torn around the edges, but victorious - and knows he needs her right then and there. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes to doze off with you, mumbling something in reply to you as you both fall asleep at the same time. It’s rare that he falls asleep first because he likes to make sure you’re secure first. 

.

an: not sure if “enjoyed” is the right turn of phrase to use here, so simply thank you for reading and any feedback/criticism (i’m working on getting better with nsft content) is much appreciated. sorry I haven’t posted any new writing in so long, really trying to get back into it. current coa ch is sitting at 9.3k+  

[hellimagines]

Burning Heart -- Dabi

Masterlist

Summary: You tend to Dabi’s wounds after a vicious battle against Overhaul, and words are exchanged.

Warnings: descriptions of injuries, inaccurate medical descriptions I bet

Pairing: Dabi x genderneautral!reader (pronouns are never mentioned)

Word Count: 3,000+

A/N: This is my first imagine for Dabi, which is weird since I’ve had heart-eyes for this motherfucker for over two years, so please don’t be shy and let me know what you think! also Dabi has nipple piercings and you can’t change my mind

“Sh, stop moving, Dabi. I can’t do this right if you won’t let me touch you,” you hushed softly, pausing a moment for Dabi to settle down. He was sitting on the closed toilet seat, back facing you as he hunched over the tank as his body jerked each time your fingers brushed against his cold skin. “You need to sit up, too, or else the staples won’t connect properly.”

“I’m always hunched over, what’s it matter,” he growled, but sat up regardless. He winced at the stretch in his muscles, rolling his shoulders to alleviate the pain. A hiss escaped through his clenched teeth once you began to peel off his staples, his body involuntarily trying to jerk away from you. You held a hand on the front of his chest, keeping him from moving too much and offering a silent comfort that Dabi would never admit he needed. 

The League had just returned from a nasty mission involving Overhaul and everyone in The League had been hurt in some form or another, but Dabi had arguably been hit the hardest. The majority of his staples had been torn or ripped out, his scarred flesh was smoking from the seams, patches of his arms were inflamed and an ugly red, signally he had been burnt from the inside out once again, and his hands were completely black from the ash, smoke, and fire of his own quirk. He couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers, let alone hardly move his hands, so it had become your job to patch him up while the other members took care of each other. Even though you had helped Dabi multiple times, he was still flinchy and tense when being touched; but overtime he eased to your touch, allowing you to heal him better than the others could. You didn’t take offense to his standoffish nature, taking solace in the fact he no longer pushed you away without warning and actually verbalized where his pain was or if you were pushing, prodding, or healing him too harshly. 

“Thank you for coming to me this time, instead of trying to fix yourself in isolation,” you praised quietly once you had removed the staples from the back of his shoulders. They had been placed in a small container resting on the bathroom sink, waiting to be disposed of by Shigaraki once you had finished. It had become protocol that anything with The League’s DNA on it was to be disintegrated to ensure dumpster-divers and sneaky heroes didn’t get their hands on anything that could put The League in danger. 

Dabi didn’t respond at first, waiting until after you had lightly dabbed an antiseptic across the seam before he grunted, “Means there’s less chance of an infection, that’s all. I got tired of tryna itch my damn shoulders and tearin’ open seams.” His voice was gruff and his face turned down in a scowl, but you smiled softly at the hint of warmth in his tone.

“Regardless of your reasoning, I appreciate it.”

You continued tending to his wounds in silence after that, reapply a new batch of staples to the back of his shoulders and making sure the application was neat. There was always a chance his body would randomly reject a few staples, deciding that it was over the constant foreign objects, so you made sure that if that happened it wouldn’t become too much of a problem to fix later on. You had Dabi adjust himself on the toilet seat so he was now facing you, and you bent over so you could start on the burnt flesh covering the front of shoulders, chest, throat, and jawline. This area was always the hardest, for both you and Dabi. Dabi’s nerves were more sensitive in this area, especially around his throat and his face, and your back always screamed in agony come the morning, from being hunched over for so long. 

Dabi remained quiet as you began to pluck off his staples, looking down at you as you worked. Your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, but it made you look angry as if the staples had personally offended you in some way, and the corner of your lip would quirk up every few minutes in a way that Dabi had learned to know meant you were hiding an injury. You usually had that twitch whenever you had a migraine or some form of injury that you didn’t want The League seeing you as weak for having. Dabi only knew this habit of yours because, after a typical meeting with the others, he had cornered you and asked why you kept snarling at him throughout the meeting. At your confused look, Dabi imitated the face you had been making during the meeting, causing you to blush fiercely in embarrassment. 

“I wasn’t snarling!” you had squawked while shoving at his shoulder. “And I didn’t realize I was looking at you. My head’s been hurting all day and I must’ve spaced out, that’s all… but I didn’t look like that!”

Since that confrontation, Dabi had picked up more often on your unconscious habits, whether he liked it or not. He quickly noticed how you were never afraid of showing a battle injury - not to say you flaunted the wound, but if someone asked you wouldn’t deny you were in pain - however, when it came to internal things such as a migraine, cramps, nausea, or other things of the like, your lip would curl in pain as you kept silent. Like you were doing now, with your shoulders hunched over so you could carefully pluck off his staples without hurting him. 

“Why are you doing that?” he suddenly blurted out, nearly startling you into ripping a staple out.

You looked up at him with a clenched jaw, clearly unamused with his sudden outburst. “Careful, or I’ll rip a hole in you. And I’m doing this because these staples aren’t clean anymore, and too many of them have been charred-”

“That’s not what I mean. Why are you hurting yourself to help me? I don’t mind standing up or sitting on the sink, there has to be an easier way for you to do this.” You paused at Dabi’s words, standing straight to look down at him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m fine. If I don’t finish this soon, however, you’re gonna start healing all weird and shit.”

“Shut up. I already look weird as hell, a couple more scars ain’t gonna do nothin’. And you’re not fine, you’re makin’ that snarlin’ face again. So answer the damn question,” Dabi shot back, flicking your knee in persistence. You swatted at his hand, giving your own scowl.

“If you stand up you’ll be too tall for me to get at your jaw and eyes. You could sit on the sink if you want, but I thought it might be uncomfortable for you without something to rest your back on,” you explained, taking a sheepish step backward to allow for Dabi to make his next move.

“I’m not fuckin’ crippled yet, dollface. I can sit on a damn sink,” he huffed while moving to his feet. He stretched out his arms, ignoring your swats and protests that he’d tear the staples on his back, before moving over to the sink. He jumped up without complaint, allowing his socked feet to bang against the cupboard below. He was still too tall for you to easily reach underneath his eyes, but it would do for now.

You muttered a sheepish ‘thanks’, before continuing on your task. You finished removing the last of his staples on his chest and shoulders, before applying the antiseptic and attaching the new staples. You had to admit that being eye-level with his chest was less strain on your muscles, and wasn’t such a terrible view, either. For a guy who you had never seen work out and seemed to have a limited diet of cigarettes, drugs, alcohol, and caffeine, his chest had a surprising amount of definition. His pectoral muscles were strong under your touch and instinctively flexed whenever you had to remove or attach a staple near them. His nipples were pierced, courtesy of Twice during a drunken black-out the two of them had, but the piercings had healed some time ago (after they had both practically begged for you to fix them since they had become infected and crooked) and complimented him nicely. Compared to the rest of his bony figure, primarily his prominent collarbones and shoulder blades, Dabi’s chest looked good. 

You shook yourself from your daze, schooling the blush on your cheeks. “Alright, I’m gonna work on your jaw now, I know this one hurts the most,” you warned him and spared a glance up at him. 

“I’ll be alright, it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to,” he shrugged before turning his head to the side to give you more access. 

You moved slowly and delicately as you detached his staples, even though most of the ones in this area had already fallen or been ripped out from Dabi’s constant shit-talk during battle. There was more blood in the seams than in other places, and unfortunately, most of it had already dried. You had to gently dab a wet cloth against his jaw to get rid of the dried blood, causing Dabi to hiss in pain as the rusty-red flakes tugged against his marred skin. Most of Dabi’s nerves had been burnt by whatever accident caused his scarring, primarily the ones in his arms and his hands, and with the constant use of his quirk, it was rare for him to actually feel whatever his hands were touching. However, for some reason, Dabi’s neck, jaw, and face still had feeling and were overly sensitive to any form of touch. You had tried asking Ujiko if he knew why, after discovering he had been the one helping Dabi in the past, but the creep never gave you an answer. So, you were left to work with the knowledge that a simple brush of your knuckle against his throat would give Dabi a full-body shudder, and the tiniest of tugs at the staples on his face would make him scowl and turn away to hide his pain. 

A quiet growl slipped from Dabi’s throat, vibrating against the pinky you had placed against his throat, when you had to remove a particularly roughed-up staple. “I know, I’m sorry,” you soothed, gently rubbing your knuckle against his jugular while you pried the staple away. “Just a few more.”

“You don’t need to console me like a child,” Dabi snapped but allowed your ministrations to continue.

“If I was treating you like a child, I’d shove a pacifier in your mouth to shut you up,” you snarked back, taking pride in the eye-roll and pinch to your waist Dabi gave you. “Now quit being snappy when I’m helping you.”

Dabi muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘sorry’ under his breath, but you didn’t comment on it. Instead, you finished up with his face, continually rubbing the knuckle of your pinky against his throat, before you moved down to his hands and his arms. After running Dabi’s hands under cool water to wash away the black soot and soothe the burns, you brought one of his hands up to your face to inspect that damage. His hands shook of their own volition regardless of your hold on them, and the seam on his wrist that connected his arm to his hand was gaping, with the flesh curling upwards around the edges. None of the staples remained and in their wake were tiny tears, some blistered some covered in dry blood and some still bleeding. 

You sighed softly at the damage and gently ran your thumb over his knuckles, even though you knew he couldn’t feel it at the moment. You wanted to yell and you wanted to cry and you wanted to scream at him to stop destroying himself just because he could, but you knew it wouldn’t result in anything other than him storming away. So you clenched down on your bottom lip and distracted yourself with getting to work on his hands.

However, Dabi seemed to have other plans. “What? No lecture about how I need to stop using my quirk so forcefully? That I need to stop hurting myself? That you won’t always be here?”

“If you already know what I want to say, and yet you still don’t listen, then there’s no point in wasting my breath, Dabi,” you said quietly, not looking up from his hand as you cleaned away the blood and applied burn ointment on the blisters.

“Giving up on me so soon?” he said, attempting at a joke, but you could detect the worry in his voice.

“I won’t give up on you, not now, and not ever. I’m not going to pretend to know why you do the things you do. Why you push yourself harder than the others even though you have no desire to prove anything. Why you act like this is fine when it isn’t. I don’t know the answers to any of those and I don’t think you do either. But I’m not helping you because I’m curious or because I want answers. I’m not giving up on you because I care about you. I care about everyone in this shithole, but I care about you more. I know I shouldn’t… I know that every time we walk out that door my heart aches because I don’t know if I’ll be bringing back your dead body this time. My heart aches because I don’t know if this time will be the time when you burn yourself too much and I lose you. Or when you disappear for days, even weeks, I don’t know if you’ll ever come back. So yeah, I know I shouldn’t care as much as I do but there’s too much hatred in this world I don’t feel like adding onto it just because you have a knack for burning my heart every time you burn yourself.” 

You finished your rant as you finished attaching the last staple to Dabi’s hand, noticing that your own had begun to shake. You hadn’t meant to let so much out, to admit your fears to the open world, but once you started you couldn’t stop. You really thought that tonight was going to be the night Dabi died. Overhaul hadn’t gotten so close, his fingers practically curling around Dabi’s waistcoat, before Spinner had knocked him out of the way. Watching as your worst fear almost came to be made you feel as though you were drowning in the Arctic. 

Dabi was silent as you looked over his wrist, dabbing away any blood that spilled from his new staples. His silence made you believe he didn’t care for your words or simply hadn’t bothered to understand what they truly meant. As you lifted his other hand to begin working on it and distract yourself from your pounding heart, Dabi shocked you by flipping his hand over so he could lace his fingers into your own. He gave it a gentle tug and pulled you closer, while his other hand came to cup your jaw and tilt your head up. He bent forward, keeping his legs lax at your side so you could move away if you wanted, before bringing his lips against yours. You couldn’t stifle your gasp as you felt the sharp cold of his fresh staples against your chin, and the coolness of his lips against yours. Despite your shock, you found yourself leaning into the kiss, chasing away the cold with your own warm lips. Dabi’s hand moved to your waist, pulling you flush against the sink as you held onto his shoulder for balance. The kiss was gentle and cautious as both of you explored the other, curious as to where this was going. 

After a few seconds, Dabi pulled back, swallowing harshly as his chest heaved from unconsciously holding his breath. “I’m sorry,” he spoke quietly, keeping his hands against your body while his blue eyes searched your own. “I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I thought you were just being kind whenever you would do this, and that you would do this for any of the others if they asked. I… I took advantage of that. I didn’t want you helping any of them and I wanted your kindness for myself. Nobody has ever been kind to me like you have, ever. But I didn’t realize that it wasn’t just kindness and I shouldn’t have been so selfish.”

You were shocked by Dabi’s words and his actions, your eyes wide and your lips tingling from the absence of cold. Dabi had never talked about things like this- things that went on his thoughts or his heart. 

Thankfully, Dabi filled the silence when you didn’t move away from him, wanting him to continue. “I care about you too, (Y/N). Whenever we’re out there I’m worried something will happen and I can’t protect you. I know you’re capable of handling yourself, I’ve had your quirk turned on to me enough times to know, but I still worry. Each time you get hurt I get mad because I can’t fix you as you fix me. Knowing that I’ve hurt you, that I’ve… I’ve burned you, is terrible and I’m sorry. I can’t stop doing what I’m doing, just like I know you can’t, but I’ll try not to be so reckless. I won’t disappear anymore, and if I do leave I’ll always come back to you,” he said and rubbed his thumb against your cheekbone, hoping you would understand what he couldn’t put into words.

“Thank you for apologizing and for understanding. This life won’t be stopping anytime soon, so I understand, and knowing that I’m not the fool I thought I was for caring about you makes it easier. I’ll never stop caring for you, inside and out, so long as you stop hurting me,” you promised, tilting your head into his touch, understanding what he couldn’t say. 

“No more burned hearts,” Dabi smirked before leaning down for another kiss.