#curls: blond and wilding as they damn should

[ashtonsunshine]

via Ashton's instagram story. 24th January 2024

[mightbeimpossiblenotto]

Feel - Oct 25 - @rosekillermicrofic - 974 words - Warnings: none I think

That’s just the way you make me feel

So real, so good, so fuckin real

Barty was getting those damn butterflies in his stomach again. Evan was sitting in front of him, as he did every single day in Transfiguration, but he was wearing his sky-blue sweater again. It looked lovely against Evan’s umber skin, and his blond curls sat so prettily against the nape of his neck. Barty couldn’t stop staring.

A balled-up piece of paper hit him directly in the nose. Barty startled, looking around wildly for the culprit, and catching Regulus, sitting directly to his right, smirking through a laugh. He glared at Reg, picking up the paper ball and tossing it back, only for Regulus to catch it. He spread the paper out, smoothing out some of the wrinkles, and then he took his quill and scribbled out a note. Barty waited patiently for Regulus to finish writing, fold up the message, and slip it to him between their desks.

The note said: You’re pathetic. Stop staring at him like a bloody creep.

Barty crumpled the paper back up, tossing it back to Reg without a response. He knew well enough how ridiculous he was being. Barty had gone and fallen in love with his best friend. It was very humbling.

Don’t you just want to lean forward and bite his neck, a gravelly voice in his head suggested.

Barty didn’t react outwardly, but he responded in his head. I can’t do that. I’m in class.

But he looks practically edible. Don’t you just want to eat him? The voice was very convincing, and Barty lost himself for a moment imagining marking Evan up with his mouth, but he shook it off.

Not now. He insisted, shoving the voice away.

You should ask to see him after school, a different, smoother voice suggested. Maybe you could go to his house. Go up to his room?

I’m not doing that either, Barty said, trying not to flush.

Perhaps you should pay attention to what Professor McGonagall is saying, a third, no-nonsense voice pointed out. Barty usually ignored that voice.

What if Evan knows you like him and he hasn’t told you? Barty’s least favorite voice was practically shrill, nearly screaming in his head. What if he HATES you?

He doesn’t hate me, Barty reassured, even as anxiety grew in his chest. He couldn’t hate me.

While Barty wasn’t paying attention, talking to the literal voices in his head, the class had ended, and Evan had spun around in his seat to look at Barty. He said something, but Barty was too focused on Evan’s shining eyes and bright smile.

Merlin, his eyes are gorgeous, the smooth voice spoke again. And his lips are so kissable.

That’s not all they are, the gravelly voice piped up. Imagine fucking his mouth.

I would settle for just a kiss, the smooth voice argued. We can’t move too fast, or he’ll think we aren’t serious about this.

I’m serious about wanting to fuck him stupid, the gravelly voice said with finality. Barty shook his head to clear it.

“Sorry,” he said to Evan, who was still waiting for a response. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to spend some time by the lake,” Evan repeated.

“Of course,” Barty agreed, following him out of the classroom into the courtyard.

Evan always looks so beautiful in the sun.

Maybe we can push him in the lake and see how he looks when his uniform gets wet.

Evan and Barty spread out on the grass by the lake. Evan took out his transfiguration textbook to get a head start on the assignment, lying on his stomach to look down at the book. Barty, meanwhile, reclined on his back, his arms pillowed under his head. He mostly watched Evan scratch down notes with his quill, occasionally biting the nib out of bad habit from when he was younger, ink spreading onto his lip and tongue. Barty’s heart started to pound.

Wipe the ink off. Shove your thumb between his lips. Let him suck on it.

Tell him you’re in love with him.

Barty was going crazy. Evan was making him feel wild and unhinged. He sat up dazedly, eyes locked on the spot of black staining Evan’s skin.

“Hey, Rosie?” Barty spoke, his voice sounding weird to his own ears. “Look up for a second.”

Evan tilted his head up, his lips pursing just a little, enough that Barty just had to lean forward and bring a hand up to thumb gently at the ink stain. Evan went cross-eyed trying to look at his own mouth, and then his eyes locked on Barty’s own. His light eyes were blown wide, his cheeks a little flushed, and Barty couldn’t help himself. He had to duck forward and let his lips replace his thumb, it was only natural.

Their mouths moved together fluidly, Evan scrambling up from his horizontal position for a better angle, his hands grabbing at Barty’s shoulders, and then his neck. Barty groaned against him, shuffling forward so that they were pressed together from knee to shoulder, two warm bodies seeking each other. Evan gasped, his mouth opening enough for Barty to gently slide his tongue in, and Evan responded in kind. It was hot and heady, and everything Barty had ever dreamed it would be.

When they pulled away from each other, Evan took one look at Barty and started laughing. Barty couldn’t even care that he was being laughed at, because Evan looked so beautiful. His smile was wide across his face as he giggled, the sun gleaming on his deep skin. His hair was even more ethereal in the sunlight, his eyes glowing.

“Your lips are black,” Evan said through laughter.

Barty lurched forward again, speaking against Evan’s mouth. “I don’t care.”

[sirhamburrger]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥

𝐦𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐜𝐞 [𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

word count: 1251 || prev (ch 2.5) || next

kei has splinters in his fingers.

he sets down his tools, combing an aching hand through his blonde curls. glancing over at the analog clock on the wall, he sees that it's less than a minute to midnight. as he sits and stares, the second hand ticks slowly towards the upright position. signaling the start of the new day, the twenty-seventh of september.

happy birthday to me, he thinks dully.

as if on cue, his phone pings loudly in the dark room, startling him from his half-asleep stupor. he assumes it's probably one of his sleep-deprived contacts wishing him a happy twentieth, but he opens his messages and sees it's from bokuto in the group chat. strange, because he should be getting wasted at the club right about now-

the club she has a gig at.

interestingly, it turns out to be a video of bokuto's wild dancing - kei’s initial questions are answered when the camera pans around to show an equally hammered atsumu screaming something unintelligible into the camera. just as soon as he appears, the camera is flipped to show the stage where the band plays their hearts out to some rock song. “TSUKKI!” he can hear hinata yelling. “IT'S LIT HERE!”

he sends a message of his own: do you have a designated driver? bokuto responds soon after with: hi, this is sakusa. i have my own idiots to bring home. would you mind picking them up when you can?

be there by 1, he types out. don’t think i’m rushing over there just for your dumbasses. he chuckles slightly at his friends’ antics - oh, he’d never be caught dead acting so sappy in front of them - and starts to wish he’d come along with them. even if it meant having to see you.

and even that might not be so bad after all.

his phone pings again. 

it’s tadashi. of course it’s tadashi. he’s a good friend, better than kei deserves, because unlike himself, he hasn’t let their literal and metaphorical distance divide them as best friends. waseda students are crazy busy, and yet he’s the one who’s been leaving his friend on read. 

happy birthday, tsukki! hope everything goes well for you this next year.

and below that:

i miss you, you know. i really do.

that’s enough to make kei feel as if his heart's been pierced by an arrow. 

shaking his head, he picks up his tools and gets back to work. his lithe, slender fingers smooth over the wooden reed when he's done, and he blows into it to find that it produces just the right sound. it’s quickly drowned out the shrill ringing of his phone, though, signaling that an unknown number has called him. sighing, he presses the ‘accept’ button, placing the mystery caller on speaker. “hello?” he says.

“hey, this is tsukishima, right?”

he freezes. 

why is she calling him at midnight on a saturday when she’s supposed to be playing music for about a hundred other people?

“i don’t have all day, tsukishima!” she snaps, derailing his trail of thought. “listen, kuroo got in a brawl with some… some sick creep. i think his nose might be broken.”

“whose nose?” he finds himself asking unsympathetically, a smirk on his face. “the guy’s or kuroo’s?”

she lets out an frustrated sigh, and her breaths are shaky with repressed anger as she murmurs into her phone’s mic. “you think i give a damn what happens to that middle-aged perv? look, just swing by and pick kuroo up, okay?”

“okay, fine, i’m on my way right now,” kei replies testily, stuffing his car keys into the pocket of his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “tokyo red, right?” 

she confirms, repeating the exact address for him in a clipped tone, then hangs up abruptly.

insufferable brat.

he drives for about half an hour to get there, parking on the sidewalk outside the club where he hears the bass thundering out into the empty street - yaku’s doing, most definitely - and the melodious sounds of a muted electric guitar. getting in is easy enough - the bouncer simply nods at him, and he pushes through the double doors into the building.

she locks eyes with him from across the room almost immediately, yelling something to her bandmates on stage before setting her guitar down and hopping off the raised platform to make her way to him. kei tries to push his way to the front of the room, but he only makes it halfway before she’s slamming into his chest, seemingly spit out by the crowd dancing around them. she pulls back immediately, stumbling as far back as she can go. 

her hair is slightly mussed, and her cheeks are flushed. her skin is radiant and glowing, a flush covering her face down to her bare shoulders. maybe it’s from the excitement of performing, or she’s had a couple of shots. maybe it’s both. “sakusa's already brought kuroo to the hospital,” she tries to say over the noise. 

kei feels a twinge of annoyance. they didn't even think to tell him before he rushed over? “then what the hell am i here for?” he shoots back sardonically.

she glares up at him, her expression saying you’d better stop talking while you can. “he started showing symptoms of a major concussion, so we thought it’d be best to send him off first.”

he nods grudgingly. “what did they fight over?”

her eyes flick down to the ground, then back up again. “a guy threw a beer can at my head, then tried to climb onto the stage to grope me. kuroo was sitting in the front row and just… went to town on the guy.” her expression is equal parts guilty and bitter, and kei decides he'd rather not say anything that lands him in the hospital alongside kuroo. “sorry to drag you all the way down here, birthday boy.” she practically spits the last two words out, tone laced with venom.

how does she know that?

“what, am i not allowed to know things now?” she says dryly, as if she's read his mind. “i suppose i should buy you a drink or something. what do you like?”

“i don't drink,” kei says curtly, but finds himself following her over to the bar anyway.

“just as well, you are the designated driver after all. root beer, then,” she declares gamely, ordering one alongside a tequila shot for herself. they sit in awkward silence together, knees almost brushing as they face each other. kei sees suna staring at them from up on stage. he averts his eyes immediately.

he sips his drink. “did you have fun with kuroo at least?” he watches her expression sour, her eyes narrowing at him over the rim of her glass. “that's none of your business,” she snips.

“looks like you were looking to go home with him tonight, huh?” he jabs, his own tone growing confrontational as a grin stretches his face. “too bad your plans were ruined.”

she lets out an incredulous scoff, downing her shot and slamming the tiny glass down on the table. “gave you one more chance,” she mutters as she hops off the bar stool, brushing past him. “that was my mistake.”

he looks at her departing form, and a twinge of guilt at antagonising her arises in his chest. he pushes down the unpleasant feeling, sipping on his drink. he can’t help but feel it was his mistake, too, coming here tonight.

author's notes:

self-sabotaging tsukki? check!

i was thinking that kuroo needs to get punched at least once in this fic and i decided it has to be now

happy birthday tsukki 😀 have this not-so-happy chapter as a gift

likes, comments, follows and reblogs are greatly appreciated :) don't hesitate to correct any factual discrepancies or ask questions about this fic!

taglist: @obamakinnie

send an ask to be tagged!

[m.list]

© sirhamburrger 2024

[dark-elf-writes]

The first wished away demigod actually comes before Percy ever ascends.

They come when Percy is missing, after Jareth has stormed Olympus itself, after he had threatened war if anything happened to Percy, after the Fates had shown themselves and bound him not to act until Percy called him lest he sent all of them to ruin.

They came with tangled blonde hair, too bright green eyes, and too many bruises for their too small sleep clothes to hide.

(He had wondered if it was a grand cosmic joke. If Fate itself was playing the cruelest of tricks on him. To steal away his heart then hand him a child that could have been theirs for how much they looked like the two of them?

Jareth had thought he was someone being Fate’s favorite plaything when Percy had broken his curse and returned to him, breaking the cycle of love and heartbreak he had been trapped in for centuries. Clearly that thought had been optimistic at best.)

The child’s stepfather refused to run. Jareth hadn’t expected him to. He knew the stench of cruelty and hate that hung around the man like a cloak. He knew even if the man had attempted to run he would have never allowed him to finish. Not with the bruises he had seen. Not when the shattered look the child had given him reminded him so painfully of the few times Percy had spoken about his old stepfather.

The child didn’t look upset when he told them their stepfather would not run. If anything their shoulders sagged in relief.

And Jareth… Jareth realized neither he nor the child were ready for them to be placed elsewhere yet.

He gave them Percy’s old room, unused since his little hero had bested his Labyrinth after being nursed back to health. It should have ached rewriting the memory of his lover in this place with that of the child, but it felt… right on some level. Meant. Jareth didn’t want to think about why that was.

Days passed and the child’s bruises began to fade. They began to grow more bold as well, causing mischief with the goblins and following so closely in Jareth’s footsteps that hell they were nearly stepping on his heels. It should have annoyed him, should have turned his grief back into rage but… it was difficult when they gave him the same crooked smile Percy would have. Difficult when their still wild hair now shining with health, fell into their green eyes. Difficult when they scrambled up onto the arm of Jareth’s throne and tipped their head to the side like they were studying him.

“You’re sad.”

(Was it not enough that they looked like he and Percy’s child? Did they have to have his lover’s talent at observation too?)

“Yes,” Jareth agreed. “I am sad.”

“Is it the boy? The one in the paintings?”

He had commissioned a fair number of paintings both before and after his curse was broken. All of them reminders of Perseus, the little hero that had promised to be the last in a long line of broken hearts and had kept that promise by demanding it at the feet of his gods. Percy had spent weeks pretending to hate them, as if Jareth couldn’t see the pleased flush to his cheeks whenever he looked at one.

“Yes. He is my…” no word seemed to fit right. Nothing seemed to encapsulate everything Percy was to him. Jareth had been thinking of offering him a place at his side, a title befitting of the place he held in Jareth’s heart, but that damned witch of a goddess had stolen Percy away before he asked.

The child surprisingly nodded like they understood. How an eight year old could understand when Jareth didn’t fully he didn’t know, but they plowed on before he could ask. “Did he leave? Or did he…” it was their turn to trail off, fingers curling as they reached for the locket at their throat. A final gift from their mother of Jareth remembered right.

“Neither. He was taken. He… he does not remember me and I am forbidden to act until he does.”

The child frowned. “That’s not fair.”

Jareth laughed. The statement was so like something Percy would have said that it took him off guard. “No,” he agreed, “it’s not fair.”

“I hope he remembers soon,” The child said, reaching out to pat Jareth’s arm with their tiny little hand. An innocent gesture of comfort that shouldn’t have helped as much as it did.

“I do too, little one. I do too.”

[camlovesjace]

Dancing with the prince ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Jacaerys Velaryon xOc!fem, Hightower

warning: no one (but... english is NOT my first language so i tried to write something without being a total failure)

You´ve been hating prince Jacaerys for long time ago, he was always so kind, such a gentleman with everything and everyone. And that couldn´t be worse to you, cause when other womens found her ways to take him in a dance you knew he would never can rejected.

So, it was easier to pretend you hate him that confess that you're actually madly in love him him. Since he came back from Dragonstone, he acted like a crowned prince should act. So respectful, and so brave. However, every time he tries to talk to you you found yourself being rude and mean, having no manners left to give him.

But tonight it was different, tonight he was looking so handsome, with his beautiful brown eyes shining everytime he smiled, his dark curls falling so perfectly down his forehead. You couldn't help but stare at him a few seconds more than usual...and Helaena noticed it.

She smiled, looking at you with a gaze you knew fine "You're a coward" she joked, in a funny and low tone of voice. You can't said anything cause that blonde princess, who was your favourite cousin ever, was so damn right.

"Shut up" you said, lifting the cup and drinking the deep red wine on it. Feeling the taste fill your dry mouth "He´s a jerk..." you repeat, like many times before.

"Yeah, maybe he is. But you want that jerk to be your jerk" after she said that, some people on the table turn to both of you, with a surprise expression on their faces. Your cheeks burned like the deepest dragon fire had woke up in your face, and you could only put your hands to cover yourself. You were so ashamed, you had never ever been this in love, and you never had to deal with such chaotic feelings.

You could feel you face going so red as you hair, then you lift your body out of your chair and walked just right in front of him. In front of the man who owns all your worst nightmares, and your sweetest dreams.

"My prince..." you say, trying to do not blush when his gaze move to you. You can feel how his brown orbs reached every inch of your face, he told you once that he had never seen such an innocent face as yours. But in that moment you only rolled your eyes at his words, even when the world feel like it was burning around both of you.

"My sweet lady..." Jacaerys said, smiling ear to ear, you feel like you could punch his face if his idiotic smile didn't disappear now. The Rhaenyra´s heir could help to left his eyes wander your beautiful dress, he knew the blue and pink suits you, but he had never imagined you in a burning red. A maroon red. His heart started to beat faster when you looked at him in such a lovely way.

He had put his eyes on you since he put a feet on King's Landing.

"Don't call me that" she says, and he left a soft laugh scape from his lips. He love the way you could be mad at him even when he said nothing wrong, yet.

"Sorry..." he apologized, still focused on you and your gorgeous shape. He had seen precious women, with better bodies, better faces, and better manners... But none of them had the luck of catch his attention as you did. You were wild, independent and passionate, yet as well you were such an innocent and sweet creature, always looking at everyone with those dreamy and hopeful eyes of yours. Full of life, love and kindness. He couldn't help but fall for you faster than he had before "I can assume you´re here for a dance, don´t you?"

She shakes her head, taking with one hand a jug of wine and lookíng down his eyes.

"I'm not" she said, and Jace laugh a little when she turn around and leave right where she came from. Then the prince stand up and walk behind her, putting one of his strong and warm hands on her waist, feeling the hot flesh under her dress.

"What a shame, sweetheart" he murmured, on her ear. A shiver ran her back, almost making her shake in that moment, as his breathe touched her skin, moving slightly some of her ginger hairs "Cause now i want to dance, and you´re right here"

[shewhowas39]

wip whenever

thank you so much @kalmiaphlox for the tag!

so the next chapter of Juniper & Starlight is going to be a bit late, because i'm finally working on the smutfic i promised. which also serves as my Fall in Faerun piece for @thekindredcollective's ongoing event!

so here's another snippet from that piece! which i hope to have up in the next day or two.

***

Astarion makes his way past them all, heading straight for the library. He’s eager for June to see his costume and inevitably swoon over him. He’ll tease and tantalize her until the end of the night, until she’s wild and desperate for him, and that will be his revenge for her betrayal. A nice, simple plan. 

He pushes open the large oak door and is greeted by a few familiar voices. 

“I’m real sorry she couldn’t make it,” says a woman with a twangy accent from somewhere deep within the chamber.

“As am I. But it sounds like she and her brother are having a nice evening back in Baldur’s Gate with our little girl.” A pair of large devil horns appear around the corner of a shelf. “But I should be getting back. Gale has been kind enough to allow me use of his Teleportation Circle so I can make a speedy return to my family.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I join you on this return trip, my boy,” warbles an old man’s voice. “Though I have enjoyed the festivities, I do have an engagement I must attend to in Baldur’s Gate that is of the utmost importance. I dare not say urgency for that implies a level of danger that I do not think exists in this situation, but importance nonetheless.”

“Of course you may, Elminster.” 

Wyll, in a very elaborate knight’s costume, with full, shining plate armor, comes into view. He pauses and smiles at Astarion, raising his sword in greeting. Beside him, the famed elderly wizard has cast an illusion on himself to appear as a walking hunk of cheese. It is both impressive magic and a disturbing image at the same time.

“Astarion!” Wyll says. “It’s good to see you. You look quite scholarly.” 

But Astarion isn’t listening to a word Wyll is saying. His mouth has gone dry and his eyes have gone wide, because just behind Wyll is the most beautiful woman Astarion has ever seen.

June is dressed in a flowing pink gown that coasts elegantly over her soft curves. The bodice of her dress cups and pushes up her breasts in the most enticing way. And a glittering silver crown with pink jewels sits atop her head full of dark blond curls. He’s seen her every day for the past three years, and somehow she still has the power to render him speechless. It would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so damn smug about being the one this gorgeous woman wants.

And, of course, beside June is Astarion’s current rival for her affection: the dog. Scratch has a spiraling white unicorn horn attached to the top of his head. The princess’s noble, magical steed.

Astarion does take some amount of solace in the fact that June’s blue eyes rove over him as well, and a flattering blush colors her cheeks as she does so. 

Wyll’s gaze darts between the two lovers, and after a moment he laughs before clapping the elderly wizard on the back. “Come on, Elminster. Let’s give the lovebirds some space to compare costumes.”

“Hm? Oh, quite right,” says the walking cheese.

***

no pressure tags for @kittenintheden @khywren @dungeonsdragonsandlawyers and @aevallare

[ghostshipernr1]

16-year-old Dewdrop doesn't have it easy.What he would like most in the world is to bury his nose in books and never leave the room. Unfortunately, his family thinks otherwise and forces him to marry a stranger. Who will save him from such a terrible fate?

otherwise:

My favorite ship but its Vampire Middle ages Universe!!!

Human Dewdrop x Vampire Aether

Warnings: Panic attack, broken arm, a lot of crying

Witch-hunt

chapter 2

Dewdrop ran forward as fast as his aching legs and the tight corset around his body would allow him to. Behind him, he could hear shouts and the sounds of footsteps of those trying to catch him. When Dew ran into the forest, he immediately felt a shiver run down his spine, but he had to ignore it and continue running so that no one would find him.

After ten minutes of intense running and turning into the narrowest corners, it seemed that he had managed to lose the pursuit. Unfortunately, he had the impression that he had also lost his bearings, as the thick fog and darkness of the night made it impossible for him to see anything. Dewdrop decided not to wait any longer and headed deeper into the forest to hide and think about his next steps.

Making his way through tall trees and thorny bushes, Dewdrop finally found a relatively safe place. It was a large ditch with rocks surrounding it and a fallen tree in front for cover.

Dewdrop smoothed the ground clean it with his hand and sat down to think about his situation. It was only when the adrenaline of today had died down then Dew realized how bad of a situation he was in. Alone in the middle of a huge forest with even more wild animals waiting to tear him apart. And on top of that, the damn fog was so humid that Dewdrop had to catch every breath with difficulty. With every passing second it seemed to get colder and the anxiety wouldn't leave his head. How could he be so damn stupid?

Suddenly, Dew felt fear starting to settle in his bones. Fear filled his head and disrupted rational thinking. What if he got lost and stayed in this fucking forest forever? If he lost his parents so easily, it would be even easier to lose himself. Boy put his hand on his chest only to discover that his heartbeat had suddenly accelerated. He was so damn scared. He had everything at home, a warm bed, running water, a healthy meal. What had gotten into his head to run away! His parents will be so fucking angry.

Dew had no idea if it was because of the humidity or because of himself, but breathing became very difficult, it was even like suffocating. Maybe a short walk would help?

Dewdrop tried to get up from the stones, but because of his numb legs, he slipped and fell hard. A shiver of almost agonizing pain went through his whole body and Dew, unable to hold it in, screamed out loud. Tears flowed freely down his face as he lay with a broken arm on the dirty ground in a musty ditch that was supposed to be his coffin.

The feeling of weakness haunted him as he tried to crawl out of the death trap, but all his attempts were in vain. Despite the fact that the ditch was quite large, the blond felt claustrophobic. All he could do was curl up into a ball and sob over his miserable fate.

He had been free for less than an hour and had already proven how dependent he was on his family. Dewdrop felt that he should have listened to them from the very beginning.

The energy was leaving his body faster and faster, Dewdrop felt that he would soon fall asleep and probably never wake up again. But who cares? His parents had probably already given up and found someone else in his place. Someone better.

Dew's eyes were slowly getting dark and his ears started ringing. But before the night could completely cover him, he managed to notice a black nightmare from the corner of his eye, like a shadow emerging from behind the fog.

During the endless journey, Dewdrop would occasionally regain consciousness but would lose it after a second. The blond knew that he was being carried. He was also aware of the pain in his arm and chest. Dewdrop tried to open his eyes but for the life of him they would not cooperate. The only sense he had left was hearing, which was not doing so well anyway.

And Dew was so damn tired. A short nap in the stranger's arms, in his mind drunk with pain, did not seem so bad.

Just a short rest.

Darkness fell again

__________________________________

Suddenly Dew found himself in his room again. He looked at his shelves with handmade books, his desk was covered with parchments and stained with drops of lost ink. Everything seemed familiar but it was still so... different. Something here definitely didn't fit. Dew slowly turned his gaze to what used to be windows but now bars driven into the stone. Shocked, he looked at the room again and indeed now it turned into a stone and cold cell. Once his broken arm was now whole but chained to one of the walls. Panic took hold of Dew again.

He suddenly moved to another place again, only this time he was sitting at the table, opposite to his parents. They were staring at him. Their faces were cold and the looks with which they were clearly trying to kill him, unusually empty. "You have to do it Dew, that's the only way to guarantee yourself a save future" When his father said those words his face became even more gloomy. His mother who was sitting with her arms folded just nodded

"I won't marry someone I don't know" Dew replied. Still, deep down he knew what was best for him.

His parents' previously boring faces suddenly took on a sinister look. Dewdrop put his hand over his mouth only to feel his lips being sewn together with iron thread. The blond abruptly stood up from the chair which immediately fell to the ground. He frantically tried to say something but his attempts always ended in failure.

Feeling the warm liquid on his fingers he realized that they were covered in blood and he was trying to scratch his lips out. When he finally succeeded, he screamed as loudly as he could.

__________________________________

Dewdrop woke up with a silent scream. He quickly put his hands to his face to make sure everything was okay. He breathed a sigh of relief when it turned out that everything was in place. Dew quickly realized that he was lying in a bed. And worst of all, not his own bed. He looked around the room frantically, searching for any information that would help him identify where he was.

Dewdrop noticed that a fireplace was burning in the corner of the room. Thanks to the light from the fire, he was able to see that the room was made of dark bricks. Despite such a cold material, the whole thing seemed very cozy. Everywhere he looked there was either some nice piece of furniture or an interesting painting in warm colors.

Dewdrop tried to sit up in bed, quickly realizing that the hand that had been chained in the dream was now wrapped in a bandage. Only now, when he was fully seated on the mattress, did he have time to wonder. After all, it wasn't often that he fainted in the forest and then woke up in someone's room. Glancing at the window, Dewdrop noticed that it was still dark outside. Turning his head to the table that stood by the bedside, he could see a makeshift first aid kit.

Holding his bandaged hand, Dew tried to stand up this time. He succeeded and immediately started sightseeing. At first, he set his sights on paintings that he hadn't had time to look at properly before. Most of them depicted cheerful scenes from the lives of some strange couple. From time to time, other people appeared there, but the pair of lovers always remained in the foreground. Strange

The next thing Dew found interesting was a large wardrobe at the very end. He opened it, revealing a multitude of beautiful dresses inside. Despite everything, something didn't add up again. Light colors of clothing were very popular now, but these dresses, all of them were black, sometimes with red, less often dark purple accents on them. They looked intriguing.

Then Dewdrop wanted to see the view outside the window, unfortunately, before he could even approach his planned destination, the door to the room opened.

"Where are you flying off to, little bird? I just brought you here." The stranger said, standing in the door frame. Dewdrop stopped abruptly, still looking out the window, not daring to move even a millimeter. The man sighed and closed the door behind him as he entered the room. He went to the fireplace, added some wood and the room became much brighter. This time the blond man found courage and turned around to see who he was dealing with.

Despite the darkness Dewdrop could easily see the pale complexion that stranger had. They gave the impression of contrast with the thick, black short hair on the stranger's head. He was definitely tall with a well-built posture and everything was perfectly complemented by well-chosen dark purple elegant clothes. Although Dewdrop did not want to admit it, the man was damn hot.

"Have you watched it yet darling?, or you need a moment?" He asked in a mocking voice approachin smaller one.

Dew blushed immediately, he did not know what to say. Only when he was only a few steps away from him he notice the wine-red eyes staring into the depths of his soul.

"You're probably confused, maybe we should sit down first and I'll explain everything to you?" The taller one said and as if expecting obedience, he sat down on the bed waiting for the other to join him. On trembling legs Dewdrop settled himself next to the stranger and looked him in the eye.

At that moment bat meet bird.

"My name is Aether and whats yours my love?" He said with a smile on his lips as if it was completely normal for him to call strangers such endearments.

"My name is Dewdrop and I warn you that I am not your love" The shorter one replied sarcastically putting on a malicious mask. "Will you kindly tell me where I am and what I am doing here?"

"You are currently in the guest room where I live with my family. You are here because I would prefer such a beauty not to become food for wild animals" Aether said. This time he was the one wearing a malicious smile.

"Well... that explains a lot" Dew said glancing at his bare feet. At that moment he realized how badly his dress was ruined.

Damn it, his mother would kill him

Oh yeah... He can't go home.

Such a failure as he was.

It's a shame Aether didn't leave him alone in the forest.

And even if he did come back?

He would never see even a shadow of freedom again.

If Dewdrop was a bird, then one with cut wings.

"Remember to breathe Dewy"

Dewdrop realized with surprise that he was panicking again. Aether must have known this perfectly well because he put on a calm tone of voice and tried to help him by leading him through breathing exercises.

"Inhale and exhale little bird, I'm here for you."

"This will pass, we'll get through this together"

"Everything's okay canary, you're safe here"

"I know it's hard but you'll manage, you're so brave"

"Remember to breathe"

"You're not alone..."

It was those last words that allowed him to calm the storm in his body. Dewdrop felt like he was 5 years old again and his grandmother was helping him control his panic. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks at this memory. Aether immediately pulled him to his chest and hugged him.

"Shhhhh everything will be fine. You can cry as much as you need"

Dew experienced a comfort he hadn't felt in a very long time. The man's stable embrace finally allowed him to rest. Dewdrop felt as emotions subsided and, fir god sake he was so tired. To make matters worse, the circles massaging his back didn't help. He knows he shouldn't but eventually Dewdrop fall asleep in the stranger's hug

Has the canary finally found its wings?

[meowsgirldrawing]

4 Times Solas laughed, Only one time was Fake-

Solas x Male Lavellan

Word Count- 2,977

AO3 Link

Fen’Harel huffed, shuffling closer toward the warmth nearby. His brows furrowed when it decided to move even further away. When two more inches were covered, he finally opened his eyes, forming a rather sleepy glare.

 Balin’s smug smirk is what greeted him. “Comfy, vehnan?”

“No actually. Can’t imagine why, however.” 

“No? Well then-” Balin hauls himself off the cushioned sleep roll, ducking his head as his hands pull and tug his long hair into a bun. “Too bad, I suppose.” Fen’s tongue lets off a soft click, pressing his cheek into the blanket. He’s not a coward to admit how his eyes slide along the other man’s arms, to his back, and itching further down. His lips shift, a hidden smile along the fabric. For a rogue, those extra training sessions have done an absolute wonder to his love’s already beautiful body-mind quote from yours truly, Fen’Harel.

“Must be too hard to get up..” Balin’s biceps glow as he reaches down and plucks up his tunic, “And join me for some..” He pauses, dragging the shirt down- Fen feels a part of him whine at the loss- 

 “Yes?” Fen’s position is quickly adjusted, his upper half being lifted by his propped arms.

 “Breakfast!” Balin beams at him.

“Just breakfast?”

“Maybe some training too.”

 Fen’Harel turns perplexed, he’s faking. Balin’s smirk is never faltering.. “But you’re a blade wielder, and I, a mage?”

Balin shrugs, “Better late than never to practice not getting hit.”

 “Ass.”

 “I do love yours, yes.”

 Fen’s head tosses backward in a groan, “I should’ve said something better.”

 “You getting up soon?” Balin’s tossing on his leather.

 “No.”

“Suppose you’ll miss the wash-”

 Fen hops to it, yanking off the blanket and scurrying up and at ‘em. “On it.” 

Balin’s head jerks back in a ringing laugh, shining amusement as his lover scrambles to grab his clothes with the same amount of speed he’s seen on their camping nights near battlefields. His laughter turns harder as the deemed ‘Dread Wolf’ even trips at one point when tugging on his breeches. Fen joins in soon after, almost bumping into him in his hurry.

Mythal didn’t question at all thankfully why Fen’s hair was still a mess when they finally showed up to their morning greetings. Possibly had to do with the large grins on both faces and how the few times they glanced at each other, Fen kept having to stifle his chuckles while Balin bit back his usual smirk in exchange for a more polite one.

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

“ Enchanters remind

That time will not unwind.

The dragon's crooked -”

 “Fen!”

 Said unfortunate owner of that name, glances up, quirking a brow. If he must, he’s grumpily curious about his intruder.

Only no one's there. His forced curiosity turns into a confused glare.

His head swivels around, facing left and right for the person.

 “Up here, ya iggit!”

 Oh.

 His fellow elf prowls in the trees above, hand curled into a steady branch as her legs brace on it’s side. “OI! Get up here, damn it!”

“And why should I do that exactly?” Despite this, his book is marked and set down.

 “Balin’s trainin’ the new recruits!”

 “And?”

 “Thought you'd enjoy the view.”

 The book is quickly tossed aside, albeit gently and with care. The elf wishes to see his lover, yes, but not at the impulsive expense of his favorite tales.

And with such grace and watchful actions for those around him or those who can see him, Fen grabs hold of the first branch and soon another, then another. And soon he’s clambered up to the top, pulling himself up to the same one as his comrade. 

 The blonde elf with such flamboyant braids along her hairline, huffs a lock out of her face before grinning a wide one, “Looksie! The small lad right there?”

 “The one in possession of that odd crossbow?” Fen’s head offers a slight tilt, and raised his brow.

She sneakily giggles, patting his arm and nodding, “He’s a wild one! I like him and I’ve only been see'n for a min, y’know? He’s been a loudmouth, callin’ his skills ta be the best ta spar wit and honestly a near ass.”

 “And why do you like him exactly?” He thought she detested such people. Ironic considering her outward characteristics but nevertheless; she even took him as a close friend simply because he was just a little more opposite in comparison. Probably helps her even out, knowingly or not.

 “Maybe 'cause he’s been the only one wit the gal ta step up towards Buddy down there.” 

 As if a demonstration was needed, the younger elf throws himself into a stance, putting his crossbow down for the first time for knives instead. Balin only raises an idle brow and his mouth moves.

It’s too far to tell what they’re saying to one another but judging by the dark look that overtakes the youngling’s face, Balin probably said something off. 

Or at least damaged his ego.

 The young one snarls then shoots forward, blades spinning. Balin grows a deep frown and heavily braces his shield up. They clash with a jarring thud and the smaller elf nearly stumbles, even more so when Balin doesn’t hold back his thrusted arm forward. 

 Fen watches, completely amused. Balin’s always known not to go entirely easy on trainees, his main goal to keep them ready for anything in the moment. Afterall, no true enemy would go easy, no matter the gender, size, or anything most see as vulnerable. The vulnerability serves only for a weapon for them to grasp. Balin’s hope is to turn that weapon around for the origin’s use.

Soon, but thankfully not quickly enough, Balin brings down the recruit in a swift two-time swing, one that startled the kid and the next that actually knocked the poor boy down. 

Both Fen and his friend wince at the thud; the girl beside him purses in a low whistle, “Poor noggin.”

 A small thought agrees with her.

It takes longer than usual but about an hour or two later, the session ends and the group disperses. Trainees either run off to continue what Balin has taught, grab a quick snack by the lake nearby from the nice ‘baker’, or - and quite shamefully he might add- slinker off to gather any wounded pride after being wacked down in front of literally everyone in the area’s vicinity. Ahem- the crossbow wielder.

Perhaps he should keep to the odd contraption instead, Fen’s eyes wander back from the youngin’s moving backside. 

 As Fen’s ready to slip off the tree, preferably to greet his coming love, his friend bats at his arm, grabbing and tugging him to stay. 

She’s giggling at his confusion. 

The same confusion that is quickly wadded off as she leans closely in, whispering to his ear like a powerful incantation because the same grin she wears appears, more faintly, on his lips a moment later.

Balin’s shoving in his dagger where it belongs, the sheathe on the side of his ribs, when a familiar friend with blonde locks lands in front of him. He jerks back, seconds away from pulling the same dagger back out. 

 “Ello, Ball!” The sweet elf cries.

 “S-”

 “Hear me out, yeah? I got sum funne for ya!” She promises, arms crossed innocently behind her back. Balin sees her grin.

 His eyes squint sharply, but reluctantly, he drawls, “ What?” He’s already looking at all corners of his eyes. For what? He’s not certain. For him? He’s damn certain.

She goes giggling through, “Okay-okay-okay! So-” A pitched on, “What do you call pointy and falling?”

 His face turns into something, telling anyone that he’s used to this, “..I don’t know. A rock?”

 “Noooo!” Her grin is still on.

 “A pinecone?”

 “Hmm..Nope!” Popping on the ‘p’.

 “Someone you posed above me and waiting for the third answer so they can drop down and tackle me?”

 “.....Nooooo.”

 “Then what?” 

 “A tree?” She says but it comes out a suggestion then answer. Balin crosses his arms, “Is that the answer or is it-?

 “An elf!” 

And an elf is what he gets coming down on him from the top left. 

 So not exactly from a tree branch, but from a large boulder as the mountainside provides. 

He gets tackled harshly to the ground, arms wrapping around tightly and yanking them both into a roll down the small hill he just came from. 

 He groans, tucking out his chin as the other is chuckling and wiggling like a snake against him. As Fen's laughter grows, Balin can just barely hear a high-pitched cackle meters behind them and above.

 “I thought..” A rock under his shoulder, ouch, “you were the reasonable one..”

He’s not serious in his statement, not at all.

 “Reasonable, yes.” Fen’s eyes twinkle with shared mischief, before sitting up properly, straddling the taller one, “ Does not contradict any and all fun, however.”

 Balin scoffs, running his hands down on his hips, “Fun in tackling me?”

 “Fun in tackling you, yes.” 

 “Monster.” 

“Don’t you know it.” A flash of a grin and Fen leans down, pressing an unusually giddy kiss on his lips. His dreads leak down, seeming to melt into the splayed out, auburn hair on the ground.

Both promptly ignore the forced gagging noises nearby.

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

“Vehnan? Are you alright?”

 It takes a bit for Fen to respond. The glow of the candle hanging at the top of their bed dances on the walls, adding more burly to Balin’s large shadow. Stretching the shirt over his head, Balin pauses in his adjusting, worryingly expectantly at him.

 Fen opens his mouth, pauses, then closes and nods.

The auburn elf doesn’t buy it, not for a second. His sigh is audible, coming close and kneeling on the fabric’s end, “Ir abelas, but I don’t believe you. Not when your brow is so deep right now.”

 Fen’s eyes are blank at the ceiling, brows clearly worrying.

 “Tell me?” Balin’s feeble but wanting suggestion.

Fen’s eyes darted, flying to his face. Balin stares back with a slight frown, such soft eyes. A deep brown color he can know from miles away if he so had to. There's a tinge of purple haze in them, but the more warm part keeps it at a tinge. 

 Would he look at him the same? If he knew what he was planning?

 “There’s…”  Something I want to tell- yes , “There was a grim sight we came across today at our hunt.”

“The one with S-”

 “Yes.”

 Narrowed eyes happen, but he relents, “There was?”

 “Two wolves, mauled by a rather larger one. We found it ravaging through one of the bodies, like it didn’t even care. Or as if it were so hungry, it just-”

“Became a beast to it’s companions?”

 “Maybe. Neither situation seems better. Either it was a friend and took out them out in the midst of it’s hunger, or it came across two peacefully going by their natural lives and tore it from them.”

 Balin’s body is a comfort beside him. He ignores the unsettling tingling down his back as he leans up and settles into his brown clothing. The other’s arm comes around his shoulders, a kiss to his unpinned hair.

“The sight must have been real grim to have upset you this much.”

  More like the simple thought, “I took longer to sleep last night, my head was more vulnerable.”

 “Emotional?” He can feel the smirk across his forehead.

 Fen sighs, it’s playful, “Perhaps. I could be overthinking too.”

“And that’s more than alright, love. Some of us have those days, don’t think any less.”

  Oh, always Balin, ridding of thoughts like that before they become true.

If only it helped with his actual dilemma.  But then again, Fen’ Harel knows very well no words can soothe any thought of his in actuality.

 He forces his shoulders to relax, “Yes…I take it you have it some days?”

 “Remember that one time I got all teary eyed over that bird?”

 “The one with the near mustache?”

 “Yes, that one.”

 “You called it a beautiful specimen, I think I remember that especially after our friend’s kick of an elbow she has.”

 Balin's chest rumbles fast, a laugh pouring out, causing him to smile. He buries further.

“ I promise,” Remembering to breathe evenly, “ I promise I’ll always adore you more than a ‘beautiful specimen’ bird.”

 “Oh good, “ He drawls, “It is such a dower to be challenged by a bird of all things.”

“Okay, I’m an elf but not that elfy.”

 Fen perks up, then slowly drags a finger over his sharp ears, “Really now?”

 “Fen, you need to get better comebacks. Pointing only gets you so far.”

“Pointing helps with many things, I assure you.”

 “Mhm..” His eyes are like a minx’s. “Like what?” Nearly coos Balin.

 “Directions, learning, reading-”

 “Those two can be the same-”

 “Problem solving-”

 “How?”

Fen shrugs, “Making yourself look smarter?” For emphasis, his finger lifts a bit and wags.

 Balin scoffs, beating out an airy chuckle. Fen smirks, “And showing off the most significant things, like monuments, crystals of sorts, castles-”

 “When are you going to just be in the middle of nowhere, then find an abandoned castle and point at it?”

 “You never know, love, possibilities and futures are endless…just like abandoned castle finding.”

“So you bet you could find us an abandoned castle one day?”

 Fen purses his lips quickly, tilting his head sidely at his love, “Who suggested it would be for us?”

 “Oh,” His brows are comically risen, “ My apologies, I didn’t know you wanted to be alone forever after! My greatest mistake, my lord!”

It’s only all the willpower he has left that keeps his face from growing sullen, making it just soft instead. His hands glide to the spot between Balin’s shoulders and upper chest, inching up.

 ‘Never.’ Is what he also says, right before leaning in and connecting with his sweet vehnan.

 ‘Never’ is what he thinks about an hour or two later, laid across the slowly rising and falling chest as he hears snores from above. His eyes looking but not really seeing the strewn-out clothes on the floor. 

 His nose buries into Balin’s chest, forcing for sleep. ‘Never’

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

As Solas takes out the brush, red paint drips until he carefully taps it on the bowl’s edge. He turns, swiftly finding the spot he was working on and sets to it.

 Painting has always been a rather favorite of his since his unexpected joining of the Inquisition. While Dorian has his seemingly endless books, Vivienne has her extravagant clothing and designs, Estel has her growing journal collection by the months, the fourth main mage of their dubbed- ‘inner circle’ had greatly prided himself like the others in his founding hobby.

 Enough so that when he heard the tower’s doors nearly smack open and voices flooding through, he felt a spike of annoyance at the mis-streak of work. 

  Splendid, He huffs through his nose, pulling out the scraper.

 “Yo! Solas!”

 Ah yes, the Inquisitor. Despite her outlandish personality it seems, she does pull through to be a formidable leader in most regards (besides when coming in unannounced.)

He and the other elf don’t necessarily argue, one would say, just clearly have different views on certain matters.

 She calls them frenemies, a shroud attempt at labeling

He calls them companions. On the battlefield.

 Bellatrix comes in, and he can’t stop the raised brow at her companion in tow. She beams her usual, “Hey, mage-boy! I gotta introduce ya to someone!”

 Solas bites back a remark about her technically being a mage too, and turns to her friend.

 He’s a young elf himself, fairly tall but if he would be compared to Solas, probably reaches to his nose. Long auburn hair and tan-ish skin that both honestly gives him faint reminders of Estel.

On top of that, he wears a similar outfit to those he’s seen the dalish wear- elvish patterns and symbols, lots of green and brown. Travel gear. Hm.

 The younger man is gazing around the room, an easy smile on his lips as Bellatrix does the talking first. 

 Solas opens his mouth, introduction-

 Their eyes connect.

The feeling of his eyes widening, just makes the scenario feel more real.

  A deep brown color he can know from miles away if he so had to. There's a tinge of purple haze in them, but the more warm part keeps it at a tinge. 

  Would he look at him the same? If he knew what he was planning?

“Solas,” Bella raises a brow but continues to clap a hand on the auburn’s shoulder, “This is Estel and mine’s brother, Bailey. He and our other brother, Pippin have promised their-”

  But those eyes stayed the same exact color. His face is similar too, though softer from new genetics. He used to be more angle-like, more sharp on the cheekbones. And while he’s clearly a man, they’re just a wee bit softer now.

  Bailey.

  Balin.

 Solas blinks and he’s back to the present. 

Bellatrix regards him a boring stare; Bailey tilts his head, softer in his appearance with that easy smile. 

 “Solas?” God, does the user of that name have to hide his gulp. Bailey’s little laugh rings in his ears, along with his own heartbeat. Rapid. “My sisters have done well in tales of you. Rest assured, all good ones. It’s a rather honor to meet you, actually.”

  No. It shouldn’t be.

 Solas breathes, offering a chuckle back. His mind hesitates but his body doesn’t when taking the offered handshake, “Yes.” 

 Bal- Bailey’s grin grows at his smile.

“But truly, it’s an honor to meet our great Inquisitor’s sibling, is it not?” Finishes Solas.

 Clearly can’t help it, Bailey chortles as Bellatrix mutters about Solas being a curse.

[cowboys-of-tombstone]

☆ Next >

      Tombstone, Arizona, the silver crowned jewel of the rugged West. This was in a time when mechanical innovation and high fashion clashed with moral decay and what some would describe as tenacious grit. A place where saints and sinners alike could plant their roots in their eternal struggle for survival.    Some of the most thriving sinners in this untamed land were from the criminal gang, The Cowboys, and their leader, Curly Bill Brocius.    When the late sun was warm and the breeze was gentle, Curly Bill and his posse of equally lethargic outlaws sat on the outside of one of the local establishments. The townsfolk marched everywhere and nowhere, much like ants scuttling across a carcass. As he wiped the sweat that lightly misted his brow, Billy and Ike Clanton arrived with a bunch of beers in their arms. “Just in time.” sighed Frank Stilwell, the first to nab a glass from the brothers. Drinks were passed all around to the half dozen cowboys.    “Here’s to some relief in this hellhole.” Tom McLaury cheered while clinking glasses with those close by.    “Ain’t that the truth.” Curly Bill agreed, wiping beer from his stauche. The day had gone by much like any other. A few shootouts up and down the main street and a few bar fights blowing up into murders, the usual. There was never a dull moment in Tombstone, except for those who have already seen it all.    Billowing smoke pulsed from Frank McLaury’s cigar with his face buried in the Tombstone Epitaph. “Huh. Some poor bastard in Tucson got his train robbed the other night. They think it was a solo job, ‘cause only a couple of gold bars were stolen. But they still don’t know how the slippery son of a bitch even got in.”    “Maybe we should take a trip to Tucson and help ourselves to the rest of the train, it's gotta beat what we're doing here." Curly Bill stretched in his chair.    “Don’t think so, boss.” Frank shook his head, "Place is crawling with police now that the train’s been compromised."    “Well, shit. There goes that, I guess.” Curly Bill figured as such, but damn, was he craving for some fun. Even if it was just a wild goose chase.    “Hey! Professor Gillman’s gonna be at The Birdcage in a bit. Why don’t we go see him catch stuff?” Barnes suggested, having already guzzled down his beverage.    The group turned to Curly Bill who shrugged and simply said, “Eh, why the hell not?”    Truly, they all knew that the cheap entertainment would not cure them of their depressive boredom, but it was better than sitting around and moping about it. The Cowboys rose from their chairs, some gracing the ground with a hearty spit, and began their march. Townsfolk stepped aside in the presence of the pack of jackals. Unblinking stares showered them even if they had no intent for trouble. Some of The Cowboys, such as Billy and Ike, returned the sneers in kind and watched as some averted their gaze. Curly Bill, on the other hand, relished the attention and threw winks and waves lazily.    That is until he noticed someone in the crowd facing away from them. Normally, the thought wouldn’t even occur to him, but that person, a woman, caught his sight from her long strawberry blonde hair. A slight breeze blew through the curls, emphasizing their wild wavy nature. She wore a denim blue jumpsuit with bell bottoms that hugged comfortably around her frame. The woman faced their direction, appearing to be lost from the constant turning of her head. Her front revealed that her jumpsuit was unbuttoned halfway to her midsection. Underneath, a blood red blouse complemented her large cherry amber eyes. The wind picked up and she held her cream colored hat with her matching leather gloves as she pulled along a platinum blonde stallion to her next destination.    Curly Bill shifted his mustache to one side, curious about the peculiar woman. He wasn’t the only one, as Billy then hollered, “Hey there, gingersnap! You lost or something?” The crowd of onlookers shifted their attention to the lone woman, and she sequentially turned towards the gang. The rest of the boys fell in the trend, and began to whistle and howl. Although the woman was looking in their direction, it seemed rather that she was looking past them before silently pulling her horse away and continuing on.    Billy bared his teeth in a snarled smile, readying to catch up with the woman. Suddenly, Curly Bill wrapped his arm around Billy’s chest, “Aw, let her go, son. There'll be plenty of birds at the theater who’d love to sing for ya.”    Content with their boss’s optimism, The Cowboys pushed on their way without much further fuss. All the while Curly Bill looked back one more time, only to find the woman and her horse had escaped his view.    As expected, Professor Gillman and his performance was less than stellar and was quickly made to dance out of terror of his feet being shot. Disappointingly, The Cowboys left the theater, soon after, out of disgust.    “Way to go Barnes!” snipped Tom McLaury, shoving Barnes harshly into the others. Soon the rest joined in and pushed Barnes into a circle and batted him with their hats.    “Hey, c’mon fellas! It was just a suggestion!” Barnes pleaded, trying to regain his balance.    “Well, if I’m gonna waste some money, it’s gonna be from gambling. You comin’, Ike?” Billy asked, taking a few steps towards one of the many bars surrounding them.    “Maybe in a bit, Bill and Ringo wanna stretch their legs and I reckon I’ll join ‘em.”    “Suit yourself, what about you, Stilwell?”    “Nah, me and the McLaury’s are fixin’ to smoke for a bit with that geezer from Shanghai.”    Curly Bill stepped forward and suggested, “Why don’t you just take Barnes and see if you two can win us all a refund? We’ll all catch up with you in a little bit.”    With that, the boys went their separate ways while Curly Bill, Johnny Ringo, and Ike set off to see what kind of trouble they could get into. It didn’t take long, however, when a loud pop erupted from one of the establishments.    A man floundered out of the building’s batwing doors, gulping for air as he clenched his crimson stained shirt. Another younger man followed, scrambling to the injured one’s side. Last to emerge was the same strawberry blonde woman from earlier, with two pistols drawn. The folks who had been meandering in front of the bar scattered for cover.    Curly Bill crossed his arms, waiting for the drama to unfold. He tilted his head to Johnny and whispered, “Who do ya got money on, Juanito?”    Johnny rolled his eyes and replied, “The winner, I’d guess.”    Curly Bill tsked and nudged Johnny’s elbow, all the while Ike watched somewhat crouched, eyes widened, and mouth slightly agape.    The woman carefully kept her sights on both men as the younger of them hissed, “You filthy, cheating bitch!” Suddenly, he reached for his holster, but before he could even draw his gun, the woman blasted both of her pistols; sending him to his knees, then the ground.    Hanging on by a single thread of life, the older man feebly reached for his own weapon, and was swiftly met with the same fate as his companion.    “What a woman!” gasped Ike, running his fingers through his beard.    No sooner after the shoot out ended that ol’ Marshall Fred White waddled onto the scene, pistol at the ready. A crowd began to form around them, obscuring the view for the three cowboys.    “I suppose that’s that, then.” Johnny Ringo shrugged.    “Yeah, she seems like a good time though.” Curly Bill noted, leading the three away from the scene.    “Yeah she does! Did ya see that head shot?!” Ike asked, imitating the woman’s duel wielding posture.    “I wonder what’s a woman like her doing around here. You don’t see someone like her all too often.” Johnny Ringo contemplated.    “Probably for the same reason as everyone else, to get a piece of this town, that is. But I agree with you, Juanito,” Curly Bill scratched his scalp, “Ya can’t help but wonder what someone like her is all about.”    Further intrigue crept into Curly Bill’s mind. This mystery woman was already easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. But to know that she could handle herself the way she did, had his mind ticking away like a swiss watch.    “And she was mighty purdy too, I wonder if she smells like good perfume?” Ike mumbled to himself, splashing some water from his canteen onto his face.    Johnny’s composure was only lost by the quick dart of his eyes to Ike and then back to what was in front of him.    Curly on the other hand, sufficed with a simple, “Shut up, Ike.”    Their walk had only just begun, and yet, the shock of the shootout had jump started some liveliness into their spirits.    “I’m feeling all red-blooded now, boys,” Curly Bill concluded as he patted his sides, “What say we go and find us some action.”    Ike and Ringo nodded in agreement as the trio began to bar hop throughout the main street, having enough bravado between them to fuel a rampaging elephant. Yet, no one was willing to return in kind. Each bar they went to left them with the same disappointing outcome. Normally, the respect and compliance from the rest of the town would have been precisely how they like it, and yet, even a single ounce of push back would’ve been just what the doctor ordered.    Before they knew it, the sun had already made its last call. Begrudgingly, their journey eventually landed them back to where Billy and Barnes were currently gambling away their funds.    “I don’t know why Bill likes to go to The Oriental.” Johnny Ringo grumbled as the group stalked near the entrance. “That knuckle dragger, Johnny Tyler, makes the joint deader than a funeral home.”    “Maybe that’s how Bill likes it.” Ike shrugged, stepping towards the establishment, “I like all the extra space it gives. I don’t need someone breathing down my neck while I’m playing cards.”    Inside The Oriental was just as barren as Johnny predicted, to no surprise. The marble statues, brass finish and floral décor was wasted on the presence of the low end, sloppy, sweaty, foul-mouthed dealer and the menagerie that orbited around him. Even Billy and Barnes, dusted as they were from the desert sands, were out of place next to the slobbish boars that sat around them.    “Howdy, Milt!” Curly Bill called to The Oriental’s owner and operator.    “Evening, Mr. Brocius.” Milt Joyce nodded with a welcoming smile, “What can I get ya?”    “I’m just gonna be at the faro table with my boys, we’ll see in a bit.”    Curly Bill walked up behind Billy and Barnes and gave them both pats on the shoulder. A sense of stillness and unease washed over the other patrons, despite the supposed friendly demeanor of The Cowboys.    “Say, you guys finally made it!” Billy remarked, peeking over his shoulder.    “Yeah, a shootout cut our walk short, and none of the bars were quenching our thirst. So we thought we’d drop in and see how you two were doing to help Barnes pay us all back.”    Barnes slightly shook his head, “We’ve been breaking about even so far. Not been all that lucky.”    “Well, keep at it!” Curly Bill chuckled as he slapped them both on the back.    “Hey, Johnny Tyler, set me up for the next round. At this rate they ain’t ever gonna get my money's back!” Ike said as he shoved another patron out of a chair.    “Y-yes, sir.” Johnny Tyler stuttered, his usual bravado shot, “Would anybody else wanna join?”    Always the hot shot, Johnny Tyler had the appearance and temperament of a bulldog. Rumor had it, he ran a lesser gang in Tombstone. But even he was wise to the fact that his pack was outclassed by The Cowboys in every sense of the word. In their presence, Johnny Tyler made sure that his barks and other overbearing acts were mummed.    Johnny Ringo and Curly Bill looked to each other with knowing grins. “Why, Johnny, thank you kindly for the invitation!” Curly Bill answered, pulling up a chair.    Things turned around and slowly they began winning their money back. Cigar smoke crept through the room, like the spirit of a serpent, billowing and coiling around the faro table. Despite this, Johnny Tyler showed saintly restraint with his throat scorched and his eyes on the verge of tears.    “Hey, Mr. Tyler, are you feelin’ alright?” Barnes asked with heavy smoked breath seeping between the cracks of his bobcat grin.    “I-I might have to head home soon, fellas. You'll wanna grab another table in a minute.” Johnny Tyler swallowed the heave back down his mouth. The group laughed and continued to blow noxious rings in his face.    Just when Johnny Tyler might’ve been ready to pass out, the front doors swung open. Rhythmic clicking of boots echoed on the hard wooden floor, turning all eyes towards the source.    “Good evening, Miss. What can I get for ya?” Milt waved.    “Just get me a beer, I’m parched.”        It was none other than the strawberry blonde woman, much to the surprise of The Cowboys.    Johnny Ringo leaned over to Curly Bill and whispered, “Guess she got off, huh?”    Barnes interjected, “From what?”    “Ya shoulda seen it, Barnes.” Ike butted in, “She gunned down a couple of fellas down the street for callin’ her a cheater. It was something else!”    The woman sauntered over to the bar, leaning on it while Milt served her a beer. Billy contemplated talking to her again, Curly Bill stood in preparation to approach her, as Ike floored it over to her side.    “Excuse me!” Ike called out. The woman turned her attention and found Ike unblinkingly staring inches from her face, “I saw what’cha did earlier to those fellas you banged up. I was just wonderin’, ma’am, are you married?”    Curly Bill grabbed the back of Ike’s shirt collar and hauled him off, shouting, “Get the hell out of here, Ike!” before sending him off with a kick in the rear. Ike waddled over to the faro table while Barnes and Billy barely contained their laughter.    “Oh, shut the hell up, the both of ya!” Ike sneered as he flopped down on an empty chair.    “Don’t mind him, we all thought you handled yourself pretty well out there. So what happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” Curly Bill probed as he leaned onto the counter.    “After you win ten hands in a row at poker, you start to seem a little suspicious to others. Those two men were no different, one swung at me and I shot him. He fell outside and, well, I’m sure you saw the rest.” the woman explained with a warm smile as she gingerly sipped her beer.    “And what about Ol’ Fred? What kinda trouble did he put you through?”    “You mean the marshal? He didn’t give me no trouble at all. There were more than a few folks who backed up my story. So he let me go without any skin off my back.” The woman continued as she turned to face Curly Bill with one hand holding her chin.    “I figured as such, but the real question is, did you actually cheat?” Curly Bill smugly asked as he raised his brows.    The woman laughed then tightly smiled, “That’s not part of the story, stranger.”    “Then how about we start with your name then, Miss?” Curly Bill leaned in a little closer.    “Suzette McCreed, it’s a pleasure, Mr…?”    “Curly Bill Brocius. It is a pleasure indeed.” Curly Bill agreed, taking her hand and pecking it.    “The leader of The Cowboys graces my presence? If I had known, I would’ve gotten all dolled up just for the occasion.” Suzette said coyly with half lidded eyes.    “No need, Ms. McCreed. You look lovely as is.” Curly Bill retorted, earning a cheeky smile with a half cocked brow. “But I must ask, what’s a lady like you doing here?”    “Ah, straight to the point, Mr. Brocius?”    “Please, call me Curly Bill.”    “Of course, Curly Bill. Well, I just got finished with a job back in Tucson. I’m only here to recuperate for a couple of days before I head out.”        “And what is your profession?”        Suzette briefly scanned the bar before leaning in, “If I may be honest, it wasn’t a wholly professional one.”    “Oh?”    “Yes, I… take things that people tend to miss, and when they do, I'll be long gone by then.”    “I understand now, we come from similar business backgrounds.”    “That's a good way to put it.”    “So who do you run with, then?”    “No one at all. Except for me.” Suzette admitted, downing the last of her glass.    Curly Bill titled his head and his smile dropped, “Is that so? How have you been handling yourself?”    Suzette leaned into her shoulder with a sly gleam in her eye, “I haven't stolen from The Queen of Britain, but a girl can handle herself well enough.”    Curly Bill began to rub his hands together. The Cowboys were always looking for new members and one who was easy on the eyes and an accomplished criminal was always a net bonus. He shifted his gaze towards Suzette and flicked his tongue through his smile, “We could use someone like you. In The Cowboys, we work together to bring in the big haul and we wouldn't mind sharing with ya.”    “Do you always offer memberships this quickly?” Suzette softly asked.    Curly Bill responded, all the while catching glances of her figure, “Your… attributes aren't something I want to pass up on.”    “Ahh, I see.” Suzette couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing full well what the brazen scoundrel was looking for, “Thank you for the offer. But I think I’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t know what I'd do if I’m surrounded by handsome men, like yourself, all the time.” She tossed a wink and a smile his way, and rose from her seat. A few crumpled dollars fell onto the bar counter before Suzette made her way out the door.    Dang nabbit! It was as if a one-of-a-kind treasure slipped through Curly Bill's fingers. However, he recalled that Suzette had mentioned staying in town for a few days. That might just give him enough time to find a way to convince her to stay. And just maybe, he could also convince her to be a Cowboy… amongst other things.    Curly Bill clapped his hands together and felt the blood rush through them. His mind was hard at work scheming a way to meet his ends. Shooting himself off of the bar, he waved to the boys, hollering, “I’m gonna head out, boys. Gonna drop by and see if I can pay the ol’ Chinese geezer a visit for a smoke. I’ll catch up with you all tomorrow!”    Out into the moonlight, Curly Bill swayed to a beat in anticipation. It had been a while since he had his mind on a single woman in particular, but he couldn’t help but feel it was with good reason.

 Speedpaint Video:

I wanted to do something with ol’ Curly Bill, since there was no material out there for him. xP I hope you guys enjoy the story as much as I did writing and making the art for it. 

[willowwhispersspeakeasy]

Can I request something horribly, terribly lewd?

Pillowfort and Pillowfight headcanons!

(the, the lewd part was a joke)

but yeah-

May I requuuuust: Leona, Floyd, Rook and Idia?

>:V thank you

twst! pillow fort battle

characters: Leona Kingscholar, Floyd Leech, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud

warnings: gender neutral mc, fluff

Leona

I mean he won't help you build the fort, but he'll nap with you inside. its a nice little cave all tucked away and he can just drag you inside like his freshly caught prey~

the beastman growled as you tried to wriggle away once again. he placed a hand over your face like the lazy feline he is, only to be met with your teeth on his hand.

it worked to make him let you go, and you giggled scrambling away from him.

"oi herbivore-" he was cut off by a pillow hitting him squarely in the face. you burst out laughing as the beastman slowly removed the pillow, shooting you a glare.

your laughter was cut off by a pillow on the back of your head, causing you to fall forwards into Leona's chest. he growled, locking his arms around you.

"no fair!" you whined. Leona let our a pleased purring sound.

"shut up." he may sound harsh but his hands rubbing up and down your back had you melting into the beastman's chest.

Floyd

hes either gunna not help at all or turn into a wild crazy architect over it. either way its probably gunna be pretty big with lots of blankets and pillows inside. the softest ones he could find.

Floyd was currently wrapped up in a merman burrito. he seemed quite pleased, cocooned in the soft blankets.

you giggled, looking down at the young man as he curled his head onto your lap. his hair fine with a slightly waxy texture, and the young man sighed in contentment when you began playing with his hair.

"damn Shrimpy, this is nice." he cooed, curling his frame around your lap. you pondered for a moment if he missed his merform, and that was why he seemed to want to curl around you like a snake.

"we should go swimming next time." you purr, watching Floyd's eyes light up in excitement.

"oh yeah! that'll be a great second date~" he grins. you pause where you were playing with the mans hair.

"...date?" your confusion was cut off when sharp teeth met the skin of your thigh. "hey!" you yelped in surprise, reaching for the first thing available to arm yourself.

a pillow made contact with Floyd's laughing face, stunning him and tossing him off your lap.

"ooh you wanna fight lil shrimp~"

big mistake.

Rook

ooh lala~ what an adorable idea! hes happy to help you build a fort, and a glorious fort is shall be! Rook is likely to make the front part a little peek window between two cushions, letting him observe any passers by. but the back half is grand like a circus tent or a castle, offering you plenty of space to spread out and relax.

you had begun drifting off into a nap, when a gentle hand slid under your neck. he lifted your head and replaced a pillow down, letting you rest like a doted on royal.

"you musn't fall asleep on the ground Trickster, it will strain your neck." his scolding is soft and playful as you turn and blink your sleepy eyes at the blonde man.

"...okay." you mumble. he coos over you, placing another blanket over you and ushering you to rest. you close your eyes to pretend to nap, but instead you wait.

Rook turns back to the front, watching to see if anyone approaches or wanders past your hidden fort.

moving as quietly as you can you raise yourself and take the pillow he had placed under your head, drawing your arm back you launched it towards Rook.

at such close range, he still managed to duck away in time. rolling sideways you let out a squeal when a pillow made contact with your back, throwing you forwards.

"ah the sting of betrayal!" cried Rook before you arm yourself once more and pounce.

Idia

I mean, he at first said no. after some convincing from Ortho Idia finally agreed. every spare blanket and pillow in Ignihyde had been procured, and a whole room turned into one giant blanket fort.

everything was fine, until you mentioned going to get a snack. Ortho offered to go in your stead since he would be quicker.

now you and Idia were alone, and the housewarden was collapsing in on himself, like he wished the blankets would portal him to another dimension.

you sighed, deciding enough was enough.

"hey Idia," his head shot up at the sound of his name, only to be pet with a flying pillow.

"h-hey!" he scrambles. you grin, rearming yourself again.

"roll for initiative, mother fucker!"

"this isn't dnd-" another pillow hit Idia, this time on his shoulder. he snarls and rips it out of your hands. "fine."

you yelp in glee as a pillow makes contact with your back, a mischievous grin overtaking the young man.

Ortho returns to see the pair of you locked in heated combat. he quickly over powers you both, sending pillows flying at your heads at immense speed.

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

[girlsngossip]

tiff just laughed, harder than she should of, rolling her eyes; ❛ okay, so for the rest of our lives. thank you for clarifying, ❜ the blonde bit back, walking around the lounge like it was a space she overruled, hands alternating between pushing through wild blonde curls and resting upon her hips. tiffany found herself unable to really stand still, feeling if she were to sit still every flicker of anger would fester inside of her until she eventually exploded. ❛ racing is NEVER what it's about with you, leena, not once has it ever been all you cared about. ❜ tiffany replied, groaning in frustration, shrugging off her leather jacket and tossing it with a lack-of-regard onto one of the tables in the room, the anger she was feeling making her skin feel sticky. leena was a reliable asset, someone tiffany knew she could turn to in regards to all matters public and appearance. tiffany managed herself pretty well, her status never faltering ever since joining the sugar racers, but people like leena were also a violent threat. tiffany was number one, but if she wasn't careful, she'd slip off that podium due to oil she hadn't seen being spilt at her feet. ❛ my sincerest apologies, leena, for comparing you to people who have been mentioned on this blog you're so obsessed with more than you and still haven't pointed a finger in my god damn direction. ❜ tiffany threw her hands out, shaking her head; ❛ they talk shit about me on there too, leena. oh my god, are you seriously that dense?? get over it, get over yourself, and put all this weird vendetta shit where it matters — on the god damn track. i'm actually offended you think i have enough free time to run some bullshit, pathetically obsessive website like that.❜

❛ as many times as needed , til i'm two hundred percent sure you're not bullshitting me , tiff - toff . ❜ and while leena had no concrete proof that tiffany was indeed behind the blog , whomever it was knew a little too much about the brunette . more than your average joe , to the point she found herself doubting the other racers — except nearly all of them lacked the braincells necessary to run any blog , let alone a gossip one . it was a surprise some of them even had social media accounts . rolling her eyes as the other brings up racing , leena moved both hands to her hips . ❛ of course i care about racing , that's not what this is about . ❜ if anything , leena thought of herself as the only one who was truly consistent in the bunch , who knew what their general goal was and thought of the collective rather than just individuals ; even if she hated associating with at least half of the peers . she had no idea where kieran thought he got people skills from , but those skills were severely lacking . ❛ putting me in the same bracket as swizz and taura is just low , even for you . if you're still so sure you're not the one running that crap , there's no reason to resort to low blows . ❜ still , there was no denying tiffany's constant denial was starting to make leena question her own assumptions — not that she'd ever admit it . a shrug , ❛ i just think it's a little suspicious that they know so much about my personal life , that's all . ❜

[dark-elf-writes]

Just imagine a very nice, "calm" Hogwarts around Christmas...

And all the sudden nearly TWO DOZEN Japanese Pro Heroes (plus one first year-aged child?) are breaking into Hogwarts. It is a beautiful mental image, particularly if literally anyone tries to stop Hizashi and/or Shouta from getting to Harry.

Harry looks like a ghost of the child he had been in September.All bright smiles and excited chatter long since stolen from him with only bags under his eyes and head tipped down like he hasn’t done in years left in their wake. The twins and Ron are shooting him worried looks. Percy is seated on his other side speaking with a soft voice as he tries to cajole him into eating something. Anything. The older Weasley has bags under his eyes too. Like he’s been staying up late. Like he’s been dealing with the nightmares. Even a few of the professors shoot them worried looks though none of them try to get closer. They’re vaguely sure the Weasley boys will hex them if they try.

There’s a lot rumble in the stones that almost none of them seem to notice. Like a far off storm. But Harry’s head shoots up, his eyes going wide behind his glasses as he twists at the single table the great hall has been reduced to now that everyone has returned home for the holidays. Nearly tumbling off the bench if Percy and Ron didn’t grab him, steady him.

A second later the doors fly open, and both Weasley’s loose their grip as Harry lunges forward with a sound that could have been a laugh or a sob.

He trips halfway across the room, but strong arms greet him before cold hard stone can. And Harry is crying in truth now as he presses close to the person holding him and chants something like a prayer.

“Yama!”

The blonde who is holding the child hums low enough that the sound is felt and not heard. Still loud enough that the dishes on the table rattle. Their hands are gentle as they comb through Harry’s tangled curls their green eyes, just as bright and damning as Lily’s would have been has she found her child in such s state, narrow at the center of the table. At Dumbledore who has gone a rather interesting shade of gray as he sees the army waiting for him.

A scarred young man stops by Harry and the blonde, putting his body between the two of them and the rest of the room. Embers and frost spread from his feet.

A young woman with purple hair and a scowl on her face not softened by the makeup on her cheeks, stops at the blondes left. A rumbling comes from where her earlobe is plugged into a speaker at her wrist. Quiet for now but full of promise should things turn sour.

A tall hero unlike anyone the wizards have ever seen takes the blonde’s right a host of kneezles and crups and even a few thestrals behind them seemingly awaiting orders.

Protecting Harry. Guarding him from a perceived threat.

It’s Percy who finds his feet and his voice first, tugging his younger brothers up and behind him even as his eyes narrow at a man with wild black curls standing aloft with burning red eyes that hardly even glance in his direction.

“You never wrote back,” the prefect hissed, accusation dripping from each word. “He wrote to all of you and you never wrote back.”

The man didn’t blink. The green haired hero at his side wreathed in green lightning did. Black tender is writhed around their hands as they turned back on the adults at the table.

“You were intercepting his mail?” They growled, voice many and one. At their side the sound of explosions came from a rather angry looking blond.

“Surely there has been a misunderstanding—“ Dumbledore started

The man with the red eyes cut him off, deceptively calm and. Never. Blinking. “Misunderstanding? You kidnapped my son.”

The twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes died as he was left perhaps for the first time speechless.

[izkaya]

fuwa-fuwa. (kid!bkdk)

A first kiss is an awfully important thing.

At least, that’s what Izuku Midoriya’s always been raised to hear. First kisses were meant to be given to the people that you loved. They were meant to be something you measure, give away at your discretion with very heavy importance. They say your first kiss is something that should be remembered for the rest of your life.

“Pah!” the blonde boy next to Izuku exclaims with indignation and a fair amount of self-importance for any four year old to possess. “That’s wrong! My momma says that kisses can be just for the people you like.”

“But Kacchan… isn’t that the same thing?” the other boy wonders aloud.

“No, you idiot.” Katsuki grumbles. “You can only love a few people in the world! ‘Like’ is one step below that. I love my dad, but I only like my mom.”

“Oh...” Deku says, plain and simple. “So then you can give your first kiss to anyone you like?”

The boy sitting beside him under the large apple tree behind their school nods. “I think it’s stupid that all the other kids keep worryin’ ‘bout it. What’s so special about squishin’ your faces together? It looks gross, so maybe that’s why you should only give it to someone you think deserves it.”

For a moment, both of them are quiet. The fresh spring air runs its windy fingers through Deku’s wild curls, and they settle their backs into the rough bark of the tree. Parents and their kids meander on the soft grass beneath their feet as school ends for the week. A dragonfly lands on Katsuki’s bright blue backpack while the boy in question looks at the sunset in the distance.

“Well…” the freckled boy begins. “Kacchan’s the best, so I think I’ll give Kacchan my first kiss.”

The other boy splutters. “Huh?! Why?! Did ya not hear anythin’ I just said?”

“I did! You said that Aunt Miichan said to give it to people you like, an’ I like you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my best friend!”

Katsuki growls and pushes Deku’s face away from him, all bark and no bite. He flushes a very pretty red and ignores the weird fluttery feeling in his belly. “Stupid Deku! That’s not how it works!”

“Eh?” Deku exclaims, still trying to scoot over to the blond boy. Small, warm, and freckled hands make their way to pull at his shirt. “But Kacchan deserves it! I like and love Kacchan!”

“Yeah, but not like that, moron!”

Izuku halts, pulling his hands back and returning to his seated position from earlier on the grass in front of his friend. A small part of Katsuki’s brain misses the way his fingers gently brush against his hair, but he quickly tamps it down. “Does Kacchan not want to kiss me..?”

Green eyes begin to water and stupid, little Deku looks away with a small pout. The little boy stands up, and Katsuki’s heart makes those weird thump-thump-thump noises that only ever happen when the green-haired boy does something stupid. He vaguely recalls his dad describing the sensation as fuwa-fuwa, especially whenever his mom presses gross lovey-dovey smooches to his stubbly cheek.

Yeah, Deku made him feel pretty damn fuwa-fuwa.

“N-no…” he stutters out, eventually. “Stupid nerd! It’s not like kissing is hard or anything!”

The damn crybaby’s face instantly lights up. “So Kacchan kiss?”

Katsuki is stubborn. He’s a hard-headed little toddler, and more than a handful for both of his parents. It hasn’t been that long since he started school either, but teachers have already told him plenty of times that he has quite the mouth and ego on him. Still, that iron-resolve crumbles in the face of watery, bright green eyes.

He grumbles, brushing grass off of his light blue shorts to also stand up because like hell was he ever going to be looking up to that annoying idiot. “Fine… Just don’t--oomf!”

A quick and sudden weight presses down on his lips mid-sentence, a small chu! and child-like screeches pealing off into the cool wind of spring. Katsuki blinks once, twice, before registering the bashful but mischievous way Deku giggles at him with his hands behind his back innocently. That was…

That was Katsuki’s first kiss! And he didn’t even initiate it!

Not one to be outdone, he grabs the strap of Izuku’s overalls and pulls him closer, planting a loud smack of his lips against the boy’s freckled cheek. By the time he was pulling away, Katsuki had realized what he’d done and scrambled back with a stifled “eep!” and flushed cheeks. He puts a hand over his mouth and glares at Deku.

The other boy has a hand pressed to his cheek and a wide-eyed stare aimed right at Katsuki’s red ones. He snorts once, before breaking into a bout of giggles, squeaking laughter shaking something loose and new in the blond boy’s little rugrat heart. Unable to control the feeling that creeps up in his chest (damn Katsuki’s papa and that stupid fuwa-fuwa!)--he brings Deku into a headlock and playfully wrestles him as they soak in the light of their happy childhoods.

“Dumb Deku! That’s why you have to warn people first!”

Little Kacchan didn’t have to say it--but they both knew that out of everyone, Deku was the only one who deserved to have his first kiss too.

[harrysgloves]

Three to tango

story summary: You, Harry, and Florence have a good time in your makeup trailer.

warnings: Language // THIS IS P*RN WITH LIKE ZERO PLOT // Threesome // w|w // spitting // oral (female receiving) // i have no idea what a production company is so don't come for me.

a/n: Brushing off the metaphorical cobwebs and finally getting back into writing! Woo-hoo! Ending could have been better but... meh. Also, I'm posting from mobile. If it looks weird, blame Tumblr ✌😍

REQUESTED: by @iwannaholdyoutight- and @hazgoldenstyles

And also by all these people... sorry it took so long.. 😁

>>><<<

"Stop movin'." You grumbled for the millionth time that morning. Your focus on covering up all these damn tattoos that you loved had become one of the worst things you had to do almost every morning.

"It tickles." He whined as the makeup brush ran over the inside of his arm. He instantly flinched away from the brush the moment it glided against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Harry!" You groaned, your eyes closed in frustration when he shot you the most adorable puppy eyes.

"'M sorry, kitten." He cooed, his lower lip pouted out when you sighed loudly, grabby hands tried to enclose around your waist before you smacked them away.

"H, I gotta get this done or you're gonna miss set time." 

"Wanna kiss." Those big green eyes flashed up to you from his spot in your makeup chair and you knew there was no way you could say no.

"One kiss." You clarified, knowing damn well he'd use kissing you as a distraction from being tickled again. 

He nodded eagerly before leaning slightly up to your level. Your eyes narrowed, still not sure you could trust that he wasn't going to divert your attention but his lips. 

God, his fucking lips.

They looked so memorizing. The light sheen of chapstick he'd applied earlier was still lingering across the plush pink cushions. His tongue wetting them, taunting you to come closer, and it worked.

You were so naive to think he wouldn't do this.

You squeaked as his hands gripped the fleshy curve of your hips. His lips twitched up into a smile against your own when he pulled you forward onto his lap as quickly as he could. 

You knew you should have tried to protest a bit more. You should have attempted to keep him on track but when his thigh pressed against your clothed core, you knew you were done for. His tongue licked into your mouth as his hand got a firm grip on the round flesh of your ass.

"I see what you two do in here." That sweet voice floated through the thickening air in your makeup trailer as she opened the door. Your eyes lazily blinked open to see your smug boyfriend smile wide across his face. 

Whatever snarky come back that was sitting on the tip of your tongue was quickly choked down to the back of your throat when you looked up to see her wearing that. 

Who knew a robe could turn you on so much?

"Damn." Harry finally commented after your not so subtle shifting of your hips against his thigh. Now he completely understood why you'd suddenly gone silent. 

"Shut up." She mumbled under her breath. Her cheeks flamed red from your shameless stares. 

"You look great, baby." You smiled brightly, your hand extended out for her to take. "Mhm." Harry's quick agreement had both you and Flor rolling your eyes, but a small smile formed at the corner of her lips.

"Wait til you see what he's got to wear." She smiled brightly, her silky soft hand wrapped tightly in yours as she walked towards the both of you. 

"Better hurry up then," you practically jumped off Harry's lap, his lust filled eyes quickly turned fearfully as your eager hands reached for your set of brushes. "Hold him down for me."

"Gonna pay for this later, sweetheart." Harry grumbled as Florence's hand held down his arm. 

"Sort of counting on that, Harold. Now, be a good boy and hold still."

>>>

The rest of your day had been absolute torture. Your core ached, your underwear were beyond ruined, and you couldn't wait another minute for the both of them to finally be off set. 

Instead, the both of them casually took their time, leisurely hanging around to talk to other cast and crew while you were basically jumping out of your skin to get them back into the privacy of your trailer. 

After 30 minutes of them both shooting you sweet smiles and well disguised sultry eyes, you'd had enough. Your feet carried you as quickly across the lot to your haven, your fist clenched in your hand almost as tightly as your core.

You were dripping and the both of them knew you were having a hard time keeping your hands to yourself.

It started out innocent enough, Harry's tattoos needed to be touched-up about a million times with the edge of his suit rubbing away the makeup there. You had been practically drooling over the both of them all day but when he saw your legs tighten together, he could help but lay it on thick. His hand rested on the small of your back as he circled around you, nose pressed almost completely against your ear as he whispered a raspy thank you. 

Florence was just as bad and she wasn't ever the instigator out of the three of you. She couldn't help it when she heard a soft whimper leave your lips when she brushed a few hairs off your forehead when you were redoing her makeup after lunch. 

She smiled sweetly, too sweetly, before those plush lips pressed tightly against your own. Her hand laced around your jaw to pull you tighter into her kiss. 

She pulled away from you before you were even close to being done. "Only fair that I get to makeout with you in this chair if Harry gets to do it all the time." 

You felt like you could combust from how turned on you were and you were done waiting for them to do something about it.

You practically slammed the door to your trailer behind you, making sure to lock it before laying yourself out across your couch that sat in the corner of your room.

If they weren't going to do something about it, you would. Your hands fumbled around with the pesky pants that covered your legs, until you were finally free enough to touch where you needed.

The sigh of relief, shuddering feeling that ran through your body from the contact you were craving only lasted a moment before you heard a metal key fumbling around with the locks on your door. 

"Couldn't wait for us?" Harry chuckled, his keys to your trailer thrown on your table top.

"You two were taking forever!" You glared at him through your open legs. 

"Told you she couldn't wait any longer." Florence giggled as she pushed her way past Harry. Her hands on her hips but a smile danced on the corner of her lips.

"Are you two going to help me here or?" You were cocky, impatient, and your fingers weren't anywhere near as good as theirs was.

"Might just watch." Harry shrugged with a smug smile as he plopped down on the end of the couch. The furniture was barely big enough for the three of you to sit normally. His hands moved your legs to lay over top of his own. Your eyes could have shot daggers through him as he loosened his tie, his legs spread wide enough that your hand bumped his thigh with every slow circle around your clit.

"Baby." You whined, your pleading eyes flashing towards Flor. Who was already wearing nothing but a smile, her robe abandoned on the floor, and if you weren't so insanely turned on you would have turned to stick your tongue out to Harry. Gloating that at least one of them was nice enough to help you.

Having sex with them always seemed to be frenzied, blurs of quick paced moments that seemed to fly by.

Her thighs rested on either side of you as Harry peeled away the drenched lacy fabric between your legs. 

Her tongue dominating your own as she pulled down your top enough to free your breast. Her hands pinching and kneading across them as your back arched further off the couch.

You could hear Harry mumbling out a slur of curses, followed by the sound of his zipper. Your legs were bumped up and down in time with his strokes along his swollen cock.

"Soaking my leg, kitten." He groaned at the sight of your cunt soaking the thin material of his brown suit.

"Thought you were just gonna watch." Florence chuckled, her perfectly pouty lips swollen from how hard she'd been kissing you. The edges of them barely touching your own as she talked to Harry.

"Was gonna but she's so fuckin' wet, Flor." His voice was deeper than usual, gravelly, slow, "Bet I could jus'...." 

Your jaw fell open, your back arched off the couch when his fingers filled you. A wild moan ripped from your lungs when he curled them just right.

You could already feel the cord tightening in your lower stomach. You had been so wound up all day long from looking at them you were practically ready to snap within seconds. 

"Awe, poor thing's already about to cum." Florence cooed, her hand around the back of your neck, teasing your jaw with the edge of her nose. 

You always loved hated how well they could read you. How their teasing words made your face burn and your pussy flood with need. 

When she was harshly shifted down further into your chest, her own sweet sounding moan falling from her lips, you couldn't help your own snide remark, "who's the one going to cum too quickly now?"

She probably would have snapped right back at you but she couldn't utter out anything more than whimpers. You knew the feeling, Harry's tongue had a way of doing that, making you both shut up and he had proudly used it on more than one occasion to get you two to stop bickering about dumb stuff. 

Your hand laced through her blonde locks, her lips attached to your neck whenever she could control her mouth long enough to kiss your sweet spots. Your nipples peaked at the contact of her breast against your own, Harry's hand still pumped lazily against your sweet spot, his thumb running tight circles around your clit, and while it wasn't enough, you weren't complaining. You weren't ever sure how he managed to focus on eating one of you out while fingering the other when you knew damn well he was about to combust himself.

You knew she was close when her breathing became erratic, her chest heaving against yours. Her whole body shaking as her orgasm washed across her, her panting barely broke when you felt his warm tongue slipping through your folds.

You moaned at the feeling, your hips instantly shifted downwards, craving every bit of contact you could get from him. 

You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers with every thick swipe of his tongue across your clit. Your eyes barely staying open when soft kisses were pressed lazily against your neck. 

Such a contrast to the harsh grasp of Harry's free hand digging into your one thigh. His gruts and groans were only muffled by the deafening sound of your soaking core.

Florence perked up her head from your chest, carefully turning herself completely around. Her legs on either side of your head as she draped herself across you to watch Harry at work.

Her sweet honey only inches from your face and fuck did you want a taste. You wet your lips, hands pushing her thighs down but she wouldn't budge.

Your huff of protest was quickly choked down when Harry's tongue ran tight circles around your clit.

"Gonna share?" That sweet voice asking that innocent question about broke you. Your walls clenched tightly trying to not get Harry to stop his fingers from slipping out of you, almost crying when they did anyway.

"Course, baby." 

You squeaked, your legs pushed backwards by your thighs, your body almost folded in half.

"Fuck, you got her soaking the couch." 

You were suddenly very appreciative about the fact neither one of them could see the embarrassment burning through your face. Your forehead pressed to Florence's leg as you whined, not wanting them to point how just how turned on you were.

You heard two simultaneous shushing sounds before your lower lips were pulled apart, the cool air licked across your slick, only making you whine louder.

When you heard and felt Harry's spilt against your core you thought you were done for. Lip tucked so tightly between your teeth you could taste the faintest hint of metallic against your tongue.

Then the softest kitten lick had you losing your mind, her tongue collecting all of his saliva on your clit before swirling around your entrance.

"Fuck," you cried, your nails digging crest moons into the flesh of Florence's thighs. "please, just fuck me already!"

"Don't think she can take anymore teasing Flor." Harry chuckled, yeah, chuckled, from between your thighs. 

"But I was having fun." She pouted, her tongue stopping its mesmerizing movements.

"Can 'ave fun with her after." Harry said as he started to shed the layers of his suit. 

"I'm literally right here!" You complained, your huff of annoyance jammed down your throat when Harry pulled up by your legs. Your face now exposed to his smirking, mischief filled eyes. 

"We know, baby," he cooed, almost too sweetly, something about the look behind his eyes made your pussy flutter but your mind anxious about how sore you'd be tomorrow. "Ass up for me."

You eagerly nodded your head, trying to roll over in your place before the tsking clicks of his tongue stopped your movements. 

"Like this." He said, pulling you off the couch. Your knees on the hard linoleum floor, your elbows resting on the seat of cushion in front of you. Giving Flor just enough space to sit pretty right in front of you.

Your arms instinctively circling around her thighs, pulling her core down to mouth. Her moans filled the small space around you. Vibrating off the walls with an echo. 

"Should 'ave done this in 'ere before." Harry mumbled more to himself than to either one of you as his tip teased your entrance. Your hips swayed instantly at the contact, slowly backing up the little bit you could to feel him slip inside of you.

He hissed, his fingers gripped the round flesh of your ass tightly before he surged forward, stuffing you to the brim with his cock.

"I ruin this pussy 'most everyday and you're still so fuckin' tight." He gritted out through his teeth, your walls clenched down around him at his words.

"Guess you're not fucking her good enough then." 

Your eyes widened in disbelief belief, disconnecting from her core so your mouth could gape in shock.

Did she hate you being able to walk?

"That so?" 

"'S what I said."

"Kitten," You squeaked when you were lifted by your shoulder, your back against Harry's chest. His hands snaked under your shirt just long enough to rip it off. "you can thank Flor tomorrow for why you won't be able to sit." 

"She'll probably be thanking me." The blonde rolled her eyes playfully teasing but enjoying the fact she was getting under his skin.

"Need me to stop, just tap my leg," his deep voice husked into your ear. Your hand tapping his leg, showing him you understood,  before you were hurled back in front of Florence's core by the back of your head. "good girl, now lick." 

You had Harry go hard on you before but when he sheathed himself fully inside of you in one go, you knew you were really going to be in for it. 

Your tongue tried to desperately get Flor off as fast as you could, your fingers slamming into her sweet spot, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You had a hard time knowing where to focus. Her addictive taste or his marksman worthy precision thrusts into your g-spot.

Your body felt like warm liquid was being pumped through your veins. Both of them gripping onto you at different ends, his hips grinding against your ass as he sat balls deep in your pussy. Her hips dragging against your mouth, fucking herself against your face. 

The sound of their collective moans slicked through the sticky, sex filled, air around you. Your mind lost in that space of non-thinking as your body moved back and forth between the two of them.

"Gonna cum all over my cock, sweetheart?" Your walls tightened around him as her fingers dug deeper into the back of your head. Her own cord snapping only moments before your own.

The white burning light washing through your body followed by the familiar gush of fullness in your lower tummy. 

"Holy shit," Florence breathed out, her arm dropped across her forehead. 

"Why haven't we done that here before?" Harry asked through short breaths.

"'S company property." You mumbled against the couch, your head buried into the soft material as your legs gave out to lay on the heaven-like cold floor below you. "We literally just said fuck you to New Line Cinema." 

You heard chuckling from either side of you, both of them still slightly out of breath.

"Hope we don't work with them again then." 

[katsukikitten]

WARNINGS: 18+ DUB CON/ NON CON? WEREWOLF BAKUGOU, THIS IS PURE FILTH JUST PURE SMUT 

You were never the best at running, especially not through the woods. So it is no surprise your heel snaps off causing you to trip over a small log. Your pelvis bone connects with the thick trunk, brushing your hip as your dress threatens to expose your underwear. 

A howl is heard in the distance paired with something moving through the brush at an ungodly speed, gaining on you much faster than you thought. 

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself, panting as branches seem to reach out. Their sharp, splintered claws grabbing at you and only catching your body con dress. Tearing it piece by piece, you are unsure if your faux bunny ears are still atop your head.It was unfathomable how wrong tonight had gone and how quickly. 

But then again it was Halloween and a full moon at that. They say the full moon has the power to make people act crazy and especially so on a blue moon.  Which made your panicked mind wander to the rumors about this town and what happens every blue moon. There were whispers of the older families having dark secrets. Fairy tales of beasts and mating but a second full moon in a month was so rare those murmurs and scoffs were supposed to be just that, rumors, stories. 

Not actual werewolves who couldn't control their urges during this magical event. The blue moon either filling them with unchecked rage or undeniable lust should they not take the necessary precautions. Although no one would say what exactly those precautions are. 

Your first hint about the rumors being true should have been the local news station. You thought it a Halloween prank when they advised women ages of 20 to 30 to remain indoors for tonight, to lock their windows and doors. To adorn their throats in silver to protect them from unwanted bonding. You had rolled your eyes as you got ready for your daily college classes, jumping into your black skinny jeans and blood red sweater.  

Your second hint should have been the absence of your good friend Kirishima. He always walked you to your English class since his history course was in the same building but this morning he was a no show. He didn't even respond to your texts last night asking if he wanted to go to a Halloween party with you. 

Your final hint should have been when the normally aloof, irritable and "untouchable of the big three" lab partner you had for biology growled in your direction. This would be the first thing he had said all semester.

"Don't go out tonight, got it extra?" His voice is clipped and he is acting strange, his left hand gripping onto his right forearm so harshly a bruise was beginning to bloom. You chalk it up to nerves for the upcoming exams. 

"Oh is someone gonna bite me like the news anchor said?" You giggle, turning your focus back on your work only for the professor to cancel class early. You pack your things as Bakugou sits rigid, still. He fixes you a harsh glare before he stands, pulling the strap of your purse causing you to become a little off balance.  His eyes dance over your frame, over your exposed neck but you do not notice, barely see his canines elongate as he snarls. 

"You'll wish that's all that they did." 

Looking back you wish you had noticed it before, then maybe you wouldn't be in the situation you were in now.

You burst through the trees and find yourself in a clearing. Here you would a sitting duck to whatever the hell was chasing you. Still not believing your eyes and you crossed paths with a giant wolf. Fur golden in the moon light and eyes a haunting, gut wrenching familiar red. It wasn't too long after that did it give chase. 

The howl behind you is too close for comfort as you barely have time to jump into a patch of briars and thick prickly bushes that sit on the edge of a creek. By some odd instinct you grab onto the ice cold mud and smear your arms and part of your neck with it, clenching your jaw so your teeth do not chatter. 

Suddenly a large beast bursts into the clearing, wet nose sniffing at the air and ground before it shifts in the clearing under the moonlight. It is a haunting sight. Bones snap and grind as features twist into grotesque angels until it finally forms into that handsome familiar face. The ash blonde fur retreats until it is only on the top of his head, faded beneath while the top looks finger brushed and wild. He is shirtless and his pants are torn from the calf down, the only beastly feature he keeps is the glow of his blood red eyes. You swallow, biting your lip to stop from shaking; this is not the Bakugou you knew. Not that you knew him that well in the first place but there was some power in having a crush. You had learned his mannerisms in the first year here at University, somehow always in a class with him, with one of the three legendary "heartthrobs" of the school. He was as hot headed as the rumors said and he was just as handsome if not more so. Itching for a fight and yet oddly quiet when in close proximity to you. An action you took to mean he either hated you or didn't even know you existed. 

So it's safe to say you're unfamiliar with this manic, wolfish grin. 

Feral incarnate. 

He sniffs the air. 

"Where are you little ooooonnne?" He calls cruelly, "I can smell you." 

His body goes through the motions of tensing and relaxing, another howl breaks through the eerie silence but this time much farther away. Bakugou's ears perk, his grin twisting in such a way it screams malice, unbridled rage and yet excitement. 

"You must be in your mortal heat. Guess I'm not the only one who can smell it. Didn't I tell you not to go out tonight?" His voice is dark, haunting as the wind catches down from you, carrying your scent away from him. 

"I knew your dumb ass would ignore me, I took a precaution to that and yet you didn't even bring your fucking purse?!" 

Your purse? 

Is that how that red cloth and weird silver dollar got into the bottom of your purse? 

Bakugou shifts his weight, giving his back to you as he prepares for something coming that you cannot hear. In the meantime you allow your eyes to study his physic, following his scarred back, broad shoulders all the way down to his deadly hands. One of his palms is burned in the shape of a perfect circle, you swallow thickly. The sound causes his ears to twitch and look over his shoulder, making eye contact with you through the brush. 

But he does not have time to react as a black furred beast with glowing ruby eyes jumps into the clearing. Sniffing the air wildly before baring his teeth towards Bakugou. The beast huffs and growls before finally shifting into his human form, a cold sweat settles in your bones. 

"Where the fuck is she?" You have never heard your friend use a tone so dark as Eijiro continues to pace, keeping his eyes glued to Bakugou. 

"Fuck off Kirishima, shes mine." 

"I don't see a bonding mark on her yet." Its more a feral growl than anything, "You said you didn't waste your time on mortals." 

"I fucking changed my mind. And you know why, her smell is…" He inhales deeply, testing to see how much of you can be sensed. The most he can tell is that you're close by but he cannot pinpoint you, he fights to keep his eyes from falling over his shoulders to see you. 

He's dying to know how you masked your scent without with an Alpha's pheromones or a silver piece. But that would have to wait, at least if he wanted to ensure it was his seed that stuffed you. He bites his lip, the thought sends a shiver down his spine. First he had to deal with Kirishima then he could take his time making you his. 

"Well you know how it is don't ya? Didn't know you were such a pervert, Eiji. Is that why you walked her to class? Hoping she'd make you her boyfriend or some sappy shit?" Bakugou taunts, head tilting in mock question, "Guess you can't hold back anymore can you? Dreaming about giving her your knot?" 

Kirishima bares his teeth, fighting the urge to buck at another Alpha, especially one he knows he will have to fight with full force. He opens his sharp toothed mouth to retort but yet another beast finds it's way into the clearing coming from the opposite of Kirishima but to the right of Bakugou. 

The beast looks wild, heterochromatic eyes glisten beneath the full moon as white and red fur clash all the way down his spine. A collar around his throat catches the light as a broken chain drags across the ground, there are shackles around his wrists and ankles as well. Bakugou smirks, adrenaline fueling his excitement over what is about to be a damn good fight. 

"You watchin little slut? Look at what your scent can do." He changes his stance into that of a fight, "You've got two normally non aggressive Aplahs ready to get their asses handed to them and for fucking what?"

The three of them shift their eyes and bodies this way and that before Bakugou licks his teeth.  

"God I can't wait to bury my face in that soaked pussy." He lunges, transforming mid leap into a hauntingly powerful wolf. His teeth are exposed, lip curled up in a snarl as his targets Kirishima first.  Kirishima barely shape shifts in time, pearly white teeth sink deep into his shoulder before gnashing at his throat. Deafening growls and yowling surround the clearing. Kirishima attempts to kick Bakugou off of him as they tumble closer to who you assume is Todoroki who bares his teeth. He launches himself at the other Alphas. His teeth find purchase in Bakugou's shoulder, blood staining white and blonde fur a like. There is no yelp or howl, just a stomach churning growl before Bakugou turns his attention towards the two toned wolf. Snapping his jaw as he attempts to get a grip on the chained wolf who dodges. Bakugou's teeth gleam with dripping crimson, a snarl of warning before he propels himself towards Todoroki. Sharp teeth bite at two toned fur as Shoto bares his teeth, growling, snapping his jaw at his opponent. Kirishima begins to get to his feet, limping as he avoid putting weight onto one of his front legs, crimson drips down onto the chilled dirt. He keeps his ruby red eyes on the two dancing wolves.

Bakugou strikes faster than Todoroki can dodge, and angry teeth clamp down at Todoroki's throat. The collar snaps from the force before Bakugou sinks his fangs deep into Todoroki's throat. 

An ear ringing yelp is heard as blood pools into Bakugou's stained muzzle, white fur marred in crimson as Todoroki begins to sway. As the hot head's jaw is locked onto tender flesh, Kirishima attacks. Biting at the nape of Bakugou's neck and yanking him from Todoroki with force, tossing him with ease. The light colored wolf flies into trees snapping the thick oaks as if they were twigs. Buying some time for the two injured wolves, any other alpha would have seen this as a win, knowing the two from rival families would retreat to lick their wounds. 

But Bakugou was no normal alpha. This gut clenching fight taught you as much. Todoroki struggles to keep consciousness, his throat dripping an insane amount of blood. He falls to his side huffing almost wheezing before he shifts back into human form, shackles shrinking to readjust to his wrists. Kirishima whines nudging at the unconscious, possibly dead man. All the while crimson red eyes peer through the unsettled dust before soaring through the air, landing on top of the black wolf. Pinning his back onto the ground as dark paws claw at bared teeth. Trying desperately to keep him at bay but with one fucked front paw it is a futile attempt. Quickly Bakugou overpowers him, sinking his teeth too deep into his friend's throat and keeping his muzzle there until the whining and yelping stops. Until he too shifts back to his human form. 

You fight to keep your own whimpering in, still hidden in the brush while you hoped, prayed that he somehow got disoriented. That he forgot where you were. 

His head snaps towards you, mouth dripping saliva and thick red blood. His eyes glow as his stalks closer. He stops just before the underbrush shifting back into that devilishly handsome face. He is soaked in blood, scratches line his face and chest. He wipes at his mouth but not once does his fist wipe away the cocky smile he holds. 

He scares you but what scares you most is how your body is reacting to such a gruesome sight. A muscular man dripping in sticky red, droplets tracing the outline of his abs and a smile of triumph as two people lie wounded, possibly dead behind him. It made your pussy throb, the strength, the raw need and want to win and for what? For you, for your essence and the promise of a futile womb. 

He can smell your fear as he yanks you from the bushes and thorns. 

"Don't worry, it's not my blood." He grins, pulling you closer to him as you try to push away. Just like you're trying to push away these odd feelings that swirl in your chest, in your stomach; of a weird pride and arousal. It was of no use, like pushing dead weight up a forty five degree hill, this too was a losing battle.  

"K..kirishima." Your eyes are glued to his unmoving body, causing a deep rage to form in Bakugou's chest. He grips your chin forcing you to look at him his other hand goes straight for your sex, cupping the underwear allowing his fingers to swipe over the damp fabric. 

"Don't you ever say his fucking name while you're wet for me. Got it?" His fingers are causing divots in your cheeks as you whimper from his contrasting touch. Harsh grip, soft strokes. As if reading your mind he takes a deep breath, not meaning to inhale so much of you.  

"They ain't dead, you're worth the trouble. But not that much trouble. Now focus on me." He let's go of you, drinking you in smirking when he sees your costume. Or what's left of it anyway. 

Thick irony that you would choose to be a bunny of all nights. He fingers the fake ears with earnest. 

"Fitting." He purrs before taking both of his hands to the front collar of your dress, ripping the fabric from your torso. He growls audibly mumbling to himself "Much better." As you stand with your tits exposed, your lacy underwear catching his attention beneath fishnet tights. He bites his bottom lip, pulling you to him as he buries his face into your tits. Nipping sucking and biting as he eases your buckling legs towards the ground. 

"Fuuuuck." He groans, pressing his cheek harshly against yours, trying to scent you as best he can without claiming you fully.  It's hard, fuck is it hard. It always has been, since his first class with you.  

You weren't a beta nor an omega. Hell you were of no wolf relation and yet you reeked, oozed of pheromones that drove him and apparently the others mad. He had tried to protect you, he really had, scenting a piece of an old t-shirt and even burning himself on silver. 

He wanted you, he needed you, his cock ached for you. Weeping now at your arousal making his canines ache with an even greater pain. 

But you were fucking mortal and he was betrothed. Technically all three of the aplahs in that clearing were betrothed to omegas.  It was evident your smell seduced them as well. 

He brings himself to your shoulder, biting hard enough to draw blood, claws, stuck halfway between human and wolf, rake down your back and ass making ribbons of the flesh. Still you moan and he occasionally swallows those whole as he kisses you. Letting you taste copper as his tongue placates yours, he subconsciously secretes soothing and lustful hormones and they are strong enough to make even you high. His hand finds your nipple and when you arch into him he loses his shit. Breaking the kiss to sniff you, nosing and biting until he finds that sweet spot. He opens his mouth, salivating at the thought as his teeth and cock beg for relief. He freezes, squeezing you to him for a moment. The action causes your ribs to creak in protest and yet you feel warm, safe. 

His mouth hovers over your pulse point, the salty sweet taste of you, breaths away from the exact spot he would need to sink his aching teeth into to make you his.  

In a quick motion and a test of will he shoves you onto your back, ripping at the fabric between your thighs after he forces your legs open. You do nothing to stop him, not that could. 

Not that you would.  

He slips his tongue between your folds and licks up, swirling the wet muscle when you buck against him. He hooks his arms around your legs gaining control over your hips and eats. 

See Bakugou is a glutton and he will not stop until he is satisfied. It would be a gift and a curse for you.  

He works his mouth against you thoroughly as the coil in your stomach snaps over and over again. Your hand fisting his hair as you cry out in hoarse gasps, legs shaking around his head, thighs squeezing his skull as he coaxes another high from you. 

Your entire body is shaking, worn out already from however long he sucked, nipped and lapped at your core. Finally he seemed to come up for air but only to watch your sex convulse. He looks up to you causing your heart to skip a beat. His hair is that much more wild, his intense gaze glowing red in the low light and his face glistens with your slick.

"Fuck!" You cry out, letting your head fall back into the ground. 

"What's wrong bunny? Can't handle a little head?" He shoves two fingers deeply into you making a come here motion. You ride another body quaking high as he tries to stretch you to accommodate him. His breathing becomes frantic, as he chases a smell you're emitting. Thrusting harshly into you as his other hand abusesyour clit until that deliciously addicting smell he's chasing crescendos. Your scream echoes in the woods as clear liquid shoots over Bakugou's forearms, all the while you held fluttering eye contact, practically melting in his hands. His fangs grow and he cannot hold himself back any longer. He shoves his pants all the way down, even off of his ankles as he sinks his lengthy girth into you in a snap of his hips. A mixture of pain and pleasure shoot through you like a live wire as you begin to mewl, needing him to move. 

"More, more." You whine, tears prick your eyes as he smiles a deadly smirk. 

"You're such a talkative cock sleeve. You want my knot that bad? Then take it." He thrusts into you setting a deep harsh pace. Alternating between quick succession and slow deep throats. Biting at the skin of your chest and shoulders, torturing you in such a way.  

Punishing you for being mortal. 

"Why?" It's a guttural growl as your mind is lost on another plane, "Why do you have to be mortal?" 

He emphasizes each word with a thrust of his hips earning him a lovely raspy moan from you.

"I want to...to fucking mark you.  Make you mine. The thought of any other alpha or even fucking human touching you…." His thoughts have him chasing two very dangerous highs, snapping his hips so he comes closer to your throat.  

"Please...please Bakugou." You whimpering encourages him. 

He breathes you in, tasting you without even a flicker of his tongue. Your arousal, your damp hair sticking to the column of your throat, the faint scent of your shampoo. 

Somehow he reigns himself in again. Teeth elongated enough they almost scrape your skin.  His breath comes out hot and heavy as you squirm beneath him for friction, wanting nothing more than to be filled. If he does this, if he makes you his mate, it would surely complicate everything. 

"You have to tell me you want it." He's panting, vulnerable as he looks at you, your heart shatters from the look. Deafening reason and logic as it screams how badly you want to be his and he yours. 

"Not just because it feels fucking good right now." His voice is husky, rasped as he fights the weight of his instincts, "Not because I'm fucking hot or a novelty to you mortals. If I mark you, you'll always feel something for me and vice versa. We'll be tethered and attracted to one another even if we fucking hate each other." 

Slowly you nod, again he grabs onto your chin, sliding it down to your throat as he squeezes. 

"This isn't some good acid trip, this isnt some fucking dream. You'll have to meet the elders. You'll have to deal with my ruts." Again he's panting, shaking from holding himself back, having half a mind to just kill you. Still you do not move away from his touch. 

"My jealousy. My rage. My need for territory control. I'll come home dripping in blood. I'll kill other Alpahs." He breathes your name in such a way you clench around him. He growls from the sensation. You struggle to speak beneath his grip, head floating but some how in the right spot. 

"I...I can handle it. Mark me Bakugou Katsuki. Fucking make me yours, fill me use me. Just…" He stares into your eyes until he can no longer take it. Pounding into you in a harsh pace, finally giving in  

"You'll take my knot like a good slut won't you?" His eyes watch you nod before they fall to your breasts. Watching them bounce from the force of his thrusts. His hips turn sloppy as your high builds again. You claw at his back and his smells your high as he tries to time it right. He sinks his teeth into your throat, keeping it just a hair above a marking. 

You feel a growing pressure as his tip stretches you even more until he finally sinks his teeth into you with a grown. His thrusts stuttering as hot ropes paint your walls. Your cunt flutters around it as all you can do is become limp in his grip. His arms are fully around you, his mouth still to your throat as he slowly eases up. His body giving off a bonding hormone so strong that even your moral senses can pick up on. It you drown in a high scented in spice caramel and heat.  He pants heavily, his arms shaking as he kisses you fiercely, teeth bumping into yours before he pulls back.

Weakly you claw at him to hold him as he whispers praises. He lifts you, pulling you towards his chest to keep you safe as you begin to drift. His mouth is pressed to your ear and you can hear the cocky smile in his voice. 

"Get some rest while you still can mate." His hand snakes around to your stomach, his fingers lightly caressing the skin.

"We aren't done until you're carrying my pups."

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