#especially the hair colour and gentle but clever face

[soullessdianthus]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 | 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐔

❗ APOLOGIES for the tag list in the comments, Tumblr has an issue with tagging more than 5 people ❗

Summary: Victorian AU where you are hired by Lord Simon Riley as his housekeeper in the secluded countryside. Besides the gardener - Johnny, you barely sees anyone around the house and the strange things begin to happen around you. The manor, or rather its residents, hides a terryfing secret.

AO3 link ⟶ 𝕏

A/N: Huge thanks to @starsexplodeatnight who was so kind and sweet to help me with the fashion aspects of this fic. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Also, won't lie, @ohbo-ohno's works and Ghoap dynamics inspired me to go back to the roots and to write some darker, gothic romance with Ghoap and Reader. At least I tried. ╮(￣▽￣"")╭

Warnings: dark themes, religious themes, dubcon/noncon (full list on Ao3)

Word count: 7.6k

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄

Lord Riley’s house seemed to be alive at times. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. 

You hated how untamed your imagination was especially after nightfall, when the darkness creeped in every hollow and corner of the manor. Since the first day, every night you would leave a single candle lit on the bedside table just to ease the vivid imaginations. When you were a child your mother scolded you about reading such profanities about ghosts and curses. 

And now you knew why. If the candle wasn't lit, strange figures danced in the shadows, their eyes imprinting into your skin and if were they real, would they try to hurt you or rather warn you?

But now, as a grown up woman, those nightmares of your childhood came back to haunt you once again. 

With all of your heart you were grateful for Sir Jonathan Price, a friend of your family, who helped you get into Lord Riley’s favour. It was him who wrote a letter of recommendation to make it easier for you to find a good, suitable job as a woman of your status. 

But he didn’t mention once that the manor was so far from civilization. 

Johnny quickly became your closest confidant around here. A Scottish gardener whose brown hair reached down to his broad shoulders and sparkly eyes in the colour of clear sky. He took care of the gardens as well as master’s horses and sometimes you could find him repairing a fence or something of sort. Johnny was a hardworking man, only a few years older than you, but he was also gentle, clever and jolly.

Such an opposite to Lord Simon who was everything but what Scot was – silent, harsh former lieutenant who would rather spend his time in the solitude of his chambers. Otherwise he would go on a ride or hunt into the forest on one of his favourite studs. Simon’s face was pale as a ghost’s and covered with shallow scars, remnants of his service in the army. 

Nonetheless, the tall, portly man seemed to enjoy your presence, if you dared to assume that, purely because you were quick to adapt. Lord liked his silence and you did not want to disturb your master’s peace, wouldn’t you? 

Within a week you have learned the following pattern – each day started with breakfast, which you ate alongside Lord, sporadically noticing the presence of busy cook, Kyle Garrick, who didn’t happen to talk much. Then, you would proceed with your everyday duties. Which did not include sneaking around to go and talk with the gardener, but nevertheless you did.  

And as the evening would finally come, you were sitting in the playroom of the manor embroidering while Mr. Riley was reading his book. Even Johnny was allowed to come sit with both of you, gnawing at the wooden pipe between his teeth. It all felt so domestic in such a short period of time. 

And how could you believe such gossip about Lord’s hospitality, or rather its lacking, hearsay in the city? 

Sundays were always a day of rest. You were sitting in your bedroom on the highest floor, reading one of the novels you brought from home. Too entertained with the story, you blindly reached for the cup of tea standing nearby. The noise of ceramic pot splattering across the floor caused you to tense immediately. 

It shattered to pieces. Such a waste, it was a pretty one. 

You closed the book with a sigh and set it aside, slowly walking towards a storage on this floor. With a small broom in your hand you returned to your room only to find it oddly… clean. The staining of spilled tea on the flooring was gone just as the bits of what was left of the floral cup. 

Almost like it never even happened. 

Your eyes wandered across the chamber, searching for the mess you just made. But every little trace of it was gone. You kneeled down and looked under each piece of furniture. Still, nothing was found, a broken teapot swallowed by the void.

Slowly you retracted from the room onto the long hallway, searching for the maids or signs of their presence. It must have been one of them, right?

— Hello? — You asked with hesitation in your voice, but there was no living soul to answer you back. Not nearby anyways. 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈

Coos of the crows and rattle of their wings echoed through the old trees. And although the sky was grey and cloudy that day, no rain had yet fallen. Alongside Johnny, you went for an afternoon stroll down the borderline of the forest, enjoying a minute of break.

— How long have you been working for Lord Simon? 

— A couple of years now — the man reached down the wild grain growing on the field and plucked a single piece. He continued to play with it between his thick digits, brows narrowed as he reflected on his further answer. — He hired and gave me a roof over my head when I retired from service.

— You were a soldier too?

Johnny nodded with a simple “aye” and you smiled.

— What?

— Nothing. Didn’t think such a gentle gardener was once enlisted. 

— Yeah? Didn’t think a pretty lass like yourself would be so nosy. — He smacked the tip of your nose with the stalk he was holding. 

Your cheeks grew rosy and warm, when he paid you a compliment. Not that you were a prude! Actually far from that, but it was just that Johnny was so charming and he definitely knew how to sweet talk to a woman like you. 

— Not nosy, it’s considered rude — you explain to him, fidgeting with your fingers yet a smile is painted upon your face. — “Curious” I think suits me better. Those who spread gossip about others’ affairs and tragedies are the nosy ones. See, that’s the difference. 

Johnny stopped suddenly and took your hand into his palms. He held you gently, almost like you were made out of glass and he, with his admirable strength, could break you into pieces. What a great waste it would be to destroy such a pure soul. He leaned closer to your ear, warm breath tickling your sensitive skin and your heart almost jumped out of the ribcage. Should his closeness excite you so much? Should a grown woman be this rash?

— Only if we were seen by someone, here on the glade, alone. Scandalous — the man mocked such behaviours, while brushing a single strand of your hair behind the ear. — What would they think, hm? 

Before you took a step back, your gaze met his for a brief moment. There was a hint of curiosity and playfulness in his blue eyes. And perhaps something else, something much more obvious than you believed it was. 

Something that made men weak.

— Right, what would they say, Johnny? Who? — You asked him playfully, though your expression was full of sorrow. —  I barely see anyone around the house. I’m starting to believe those servants are some… ghouls living in the attic or they simply avert me so often. 

— Lord likes his peace, they work as if they weren’t there. Just as it needs to be. 

— It’s been some days now and I hadn’t met any of them. You’re the only person who actually talks to me. Don’t you get lonely there?

— Simon’s and your presence is enough for me. And well, it’s nice to talk to Mr. Garrick sometimes. 

— He talks to you? 

The cold breeze danced through your hair, causing you to shiver. Dry and brittle leaves crunched under your soles when the two of you continued to walk down the old pathway. 

— Autumn here is tough, lass, you should have worn a sweater. We should head back home, the nightfall is coming. 

You loathed the cold weather and how freezing the chambers got in the morning. Your first winter in England’s countryside might not be as pleasant as you thought it would be, with cold feet and no one in the manor to warm your spirit up. 

No peers, no guests, no neighbours. Just you, Johnny and Lord Riley.

You stood back in the middle of your quarter, looking at everything and anything at the same time. Each detail like a porcelain vase with flowers or lace tablecloth looked so neat, with no sign of dust it was almost impossible. Many questions were stacked inside of your head. 

Was your chamber cleaned every single day? If so, when did they do it? And why hadn't you even bumped into any of the servants of the manor? Yes, the building was large, but at some point you had to meet the staff, right? 

It has officially been two weeks since you moved to live and work here. Although using the word “work” was far-fetched. You hoped to become a governess to Lord Riley’s children, but that dream was quickly demolished as he had none. So then it was told that you were responsible for the house work, but there was no one to supervise as they were constantly hiding from you. So you were sitting there at the end of the day in a living room, chaperoning your Lord. This time without Johnny.

Fireplace was spitting long flames, popping ashes into the air. The interior was welcoming, when the wind behind the windows grew stronger. A storm was coming. 

— May I ask you a question, Sir? — You had put aside your embroidery set, before finally asking. The blonde man hummed, eyes still transfixed on the lecture he was reading. — How often do the maids come to my room?

— As often as needed. Why?

— I wanted to rearrange my quarters this morning, just to push the bed closer to the wall, but when I returned from the afternoon stroll, it was back in its primary place. 

— Then they fixed the furniture, didn’t they? 

You had a feeling that was not the case. You scratched the flooring during the first attempt, if the staff was to push the bed back to its origins, they would only do further damage. Yet, the wooden planks were brand as new. No signs of any scratches.

Were you hysterical? Was it all your vivid imagination?

— But it’s heavy, my Lord.

— And yet you managed to move it. So did they. 

Lord Riley was grumpy again, his voice hoarse and accent thick. 

You once again took the needle threaded with string into your fingers and returned to the unfinished piece, but the urge to continue pushing him was stronger. You might rather bite your tongue in the future. 

— Maybe I should talk with them and explain that I prefer it the other way. 

— I prefer when the rules of my household are followed. You wouldn’t have such an idea if you didn’t have so much free time.

Your hands dropped to your lap as you abruptly looked at him, slightly offended. And even though Lord tried to conceive this, you noticed how the edges of his lips twitched in a tiny smile. He was toying with you.

Simon was strict. Perhaps he never abandoned the military's rules and drills. He was an adamant man who valued his own comfort. That means, obeying his rules. 

— Come, I might have an idea how to keep you busy.

The Lord of the house rose from his seat. Each time you stood next to him, you were intimidated by his height and solid build. Despite being off duty, he kept his admirable physics of a Greek god. 

At least that is how the books you kept so dear to your heart described the brave warriors. 

You followed the master into his private library and patiently stood right behind him, when he was searching for a certain book. Finally he reached a thick tome in your direction – “A Mortal Immortal” by Mary Shelley. 

— Here, this may interest you — but when you stretched out to receive it, he moved the novel out of your reach. — Ah, ah. What do we say?

— Thank you. For borrowing me your book. 

— However, when I think about it, I’m worried this will only worsen your… troubled mind.

— My mind?

— Johnny told me you worry too much about some nonsense that should not be your priority in the first place. You’re letting this place and its solitude haunt you. Are you of a weak mind, girl? — You quickly understood what he was referring to, so to prove the point you denied the vile accusation. — So, I’d recommend you stop being childish and focus on your chores. Then everything will be alright, understood? 

— I’m not childish.

— Is that clear? — He repeated with much harsher tone.

You nodded slightly, barely visible, but enough to agree with the Lord.

— Now, go to your chamber, it’s getting late. 

His dark eyes carefully inspected your figure. You noticed him staring at your neckline for far too long than what was decent. His coarse hand swiped over yours when he was giving you the book. The cold metal of his signet felt like a thousand sharp stings. 

What kind of game was the Lord of Riley Manor playing with you? 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈

The simmering sound of something powerful cracking snatched you from the peaceful dream. Every muscle in your body tensed and you sat up, holding the duvets tight when a thunder enlightened the black sky. Your heart beated fast within its cage of bones and breath shattered, anticipating.

Surely, thunderstorms can happen in late autumn, but you had never predicted it to happen this night. You felt uneasy, when another loud rumble made you scared. Then there was the banging window frame, somewhere in the long hallway and those horrible, horrible whistles of wind. They sound almost like human cries. 

At first you ducked down beneath the covers to shield yourself from the haunting sounds, thinking that the servants would take care of the open window. But minutes passed and they didn’t. 

With a lit candle on a metal holder you walked down the corridor, the flame being the only source of light. 

So when the wind coming through the window blew it off, you gasped loudly in panic – you barely saw your own hands in front of you!

— No, no, no…

You almost screamed when someone placed their hand upon your shoulder and then your mouth. A familiar figure was illuminated by another lighting. You could never mistake those blue eyes for another. 

— Shh, bonnie. It’s me — Johnny whispered, slowly uncovering your mouth. — I heard the fuss. You alright? 

— Actually, no… Did you hear those sounds?

Your hands squeezed the candle holder, when the gardener rushed to close the open window. You shivered, only a thin layer of nightgown covering your skin. You looked behind, checking if you were alone in the hallway. It certainly felt like you weren’t. It had to be the ghouls. 

— What sounds? 

— Howling, distressed cries? Wails? I-I heard them in my chamber. 

— You’re scared of the storms?

— No, that’s not-

— It’s okay to get spooked sometimes — he cut you off and grabbed your hand, slowly leading you back where you came from. — Come, let’s get you to your room.

— Oh, don’t belittle me. — You frowned upon him, yet you doubt he had seen it. You clung to his strong arm like a scared girl, not eager to get lost in the darkness again. 

— That was not my intention. Was just trying to comfort you.

When you finally reached your room, you couldn’t find the strength to let go of his hand. You interlocked your smooth and delicate fingers with his digits.

— Please, Johnny, don’t go. I’m… scared. 

— Of thunder? — He chuckled, petting the palm of your hand. 

— No, this place. Something is not right, please, I–

— It’s okay, you got scared a little, that’s all. You really want me to stay? 

You shuddered when taking a deep breath, calculating every possible consequence of this decision.

This was not right. 

— Yes.

When he stepped inside of the room, a rush of excitement flooded your veins and sank on the bottom of your stomach. Perhaps it was foolish and considered promiscuous inviting a man into your bedroom, but your body and heart desired otherwise. 

Johnny’s presence brought you comfort that you were longing for, his touch ascended your worries to the void and filled the troubled mind with pleasure. Nothing else.

Without a word spoken the two of you moved to the narrow, still warm bed and climbed under the sheets. Johnny captured your head between his hands and pulled in a gentle kiss on the lips. In his performance he was eager, sloppy yet charming. One of his palms gripped your hip through the crumpled material, just as you hooked one of your thighs over his hip. 

Foolish, foolish girl. 

— You’re so pretty — he whispered through the thick air as he pressed his forehead to yours. The curve of his nose filled your bridge as you looked at him from under your lashes. — The moment I first saw you getting out of the coach, that day you arrived, I knew I couldn’t ever let you go, bonnie.

Johnny swiftly moved on top of your lying form, holding that one thigh open. He continued the passionate assault on your lips, carefully rolling the hem of your nightgown up. 

Your body was on fire, everything inside of you screamed this was wrong, but somehow, the sinner inside of you called for him. For his touch, for his affection and his sweet, sweet nectar. 

Only when he started caressing your mound and its slit did you acknowledge where his hand wandered. And although his skin was rather tough  from all the years of hard work, his touch was gentle and surprisingly precise. You gasped lovely. It didn’t take that much of a hassle for him to make you wet and eager down there.

— Oh, Johnny… 

His name rolled off your tongue like honey, a music to his ears. It wasn’t long enough before he was grinding over your thigh with his excited and leaking length. 

— You are what we needed. A little warm sunshine, eh? 

Did you hear “we”?

But before you could ask him, he began stretching your cunt a little bit too carelessly to your liking. All his prudence was gone, as he got drunk on your scent and how you felt around him. Your hand gripped his bicep and your glossy eyes went wide like a scared doe. 

— Johnny, Johnny, slow — you breathed out through muffled whine and the man atop of you stilled. — Slow, please.

He could feel how your heart pumped within your veins. 

— I’m sorry, bonnie. Let me kiss it better — the gardener leaned down to pepper your face with kisses. And when he got to the sweet spot on your neck, you giggled — shh, we don’t want to wake him, don’t we? 

Obviously he meant Lord Simon. 

He set a steady yet bearable rhythm as his hips rolled into you in waves. His chest was close to yours, brushing sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of a nightgown. You were pushed into the cushioned pillow, hair splayed beneath like roots of the ancient tree. 

You felt so lightheaded yet so good at the same time. Sparkling, increasing sensation tickling the nerves and blinding the vision. Johnny was all you could experience in that moment. He was the only thing you could smell, touch and taste, when he was trying to steal the air from your lungs. You fell into the abyss of pleasure quickly, all the latest worries fading away.

And the horribly loud storm? Didn’t matter at that moment. All thunders quietened down and the entire world could be burning in flames and ashes, but you wouldn’t even notice. 

The man moaned deeply from his throat, when he got closer to his peak, hips frantically snapping against yours. You barely managed to entangle your shaking fingers within his brown hair, right above the nape of the lover’s neck. With one more final thrust both of you indulged sweet, sweet pleasure.

Johnny stayed until the morning came, just as he promised. With an expression of pure ecstasy and lust, you snuggled into his chest. He wrapped a pair of arms around you and for the first time since the arrival you felt at peace sleeping in the manor. The candle remained snuffed out. 

In the morning of the following day, you went to the city with Mrs. Garrick to receive the remaining letters and a few other errands. You and the cook split to settle matters quickly. 

The post office was a small place with barely anyone inside but a friendly looking old lady behind the counter. 

— Good morning, I’d like to receive the mail for Lord Riley.

You put on a polite smile, walking closer to the counter and removing the bonnet from your head.

— So you are the new housekeeper, I’ve heard about you. It’s been a while since someone got his letters, guess he still ain’t leaving the house?

— No, ma’am. Lord is rather… — you paused, searching for the right description of your employer — a private person. 

— Always had been, even before he went to war. But oh, that was years ago, I hope he softened at least a little. Such a sad and grumpy boy he was. 

There was something in the way she phrased it that made your body still. Blood got so heated up anyone that touched you could feel it on the outside. Did she mean the previous Lord, father of Simon Riley? But that couldn’t be the case, this title was newly found when he returned from the war. So what was this all about? 

— Forgive me, you said “years ago”? How long ago was it? You see, I’m not from here and the Lord doesn’t share much about himself.

— Of course he does not and do not expect otherwise — she waved with her wrinkled finger, before reaching for the bile of letters from the shelf behind her. — It was around twenty five years ago, Lord Riley was the same age as my son when he joined the Queen’s army.

— I see. 

You were confused, extremely confused. The blonde Lord with scarred face did not look a year past his thirties, how could this be that he enlisted quarter of century ago? At that moment you felt so horrified by this anomaly. 

Through the rest of the day and the day that followed, the old maiden aunt’s words echoed inside of your head:

— I am surprised anyone actually was willing to take that job. Lord Riley is a… forgive me for speaking so freely, but he’s a strange man who abandoned the word of God years ago. Why do you think he got pushed away from the post earlier? 

He was…? 

You didn’t look the same into the depths of the windows of the Manor, nor did you stare at the dark corner of the hall. Every sound of wood creaking sent shivers down your spine. They were coming. 

Oh God, have you gone mad?  

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

You stirred the porridge over and over again, watching as the gooey mush slipped from the spoon down to its den. Despite the tremendous amount of honey you added it still tasted rather bitter this morning. 

— Did you finish?

— Excuse me?

You tightened the hold over the silver spoon when Lord’s hoarse voice brought you back to the eerie reality. 

— The book. I asked if you finished the book? — Blonde man raised his thick brow in question, curiously looking at you from his own plate. 

— Oh, yes, yes. I enjoyed it, however I found Winzy’s life quite miserable to be honest. And tragic.

— Why so? 

— Well, he lost the woman he loved so dearly and then had to continue living eternally without her. Imagine how lonely his life had to be, when he must have outlived every single friend he had made. 

— If he was so miserable as you say, then why wouldn’t he just end his suffering and join the woman he claimed to love? Maybe he didn’t really care after all. — Simon leaned back in his chair, exhaling loudly. — I sometimes wonder what his life would look like if he had given the potion to Bertha. A pair of immortals walking this earth, would they become some sort of Gods?

— Doesn’t the thought of living so long… make you feel… I don’t know, unease , my Lord?

— No. I’ve seen worse things than an old man. Those who fear death might go to extremes just to avoid their end.  

— We were not made to live forever, don’t we? We should not play God.

— There is no God, sweet girl. Only sinners and fools. Those who play and those who lose. Are you a loser?

— No, Sir. 

His dark eyes glowed in a mysterious manner as the silence fell between you two. The man was bright and had seen right through you. 

— Good. If we speak of the matter of sinners, I’d like to make one thing clear.

The Lord stood up from his seat, putting the white napkin on the table. His figure loomed closer toward his housekeeper and finally leaned on one of his hands over you. You could feel his breath on your neck, his closeness made you shiver. 

— You’ve been living under my roof and by now you should know I despite disobedience and liars. 

— I am no liar, Sir. 

— Perhaps not, but you hide things from me. Captain Price spoke of you in high regard - a well behaved woman from a respected family, yet you’ve proven yourself to be rather promiscuous. You even ensnared poor Johnny, didn’t you? 

That… was straight forward. 

— I did no such thing!

Suddenly he wrapped one of his strong hands over the nape of your neck, causing you to tense and lean away from his touch. The man began drawing circles over your skin with his thumb, almost like he tried to soothe your shattered nerves. You gasped at the sudden force he had put you in place.

— Watch yourself and think twice about answering again. 

— It was mutual.

— Mutual? — He repeated mockingly. — Johnny boy would fuck anything that moves in ten miles radius. And it just happened to be you. 

— How dare you speak like this? — You turned your head to look him in the face. When you did, you saw the insolent smirk painted over his pale face. — He is at least decent towards me, he’s kind and caring. We did nothing wrong. Why do you care?

Simon leaned down right next to your face. He continued to stare you down, his brows narrowed in deep disappointment. 

— You’ve built a wall between us, sweet girl. Yeah, you did. If there was something you ever needed, you should have come directly to me, your Lord. And I can assure you, Johnny did not give what you craved and desired. 

Inconveniently your face changed its colour to vivid blush, when he suggested such things. Your stomach felt like one, big knot twisting its way to get stuck in your oesophagus. Was that it? Was this how he perceived you? Was he jealous of the fling between you and Johnny or was he simply cruel?

Lord Riley let go of your pretty neck and caressed your cheek with the knuckles of his fingers. Just like one would touch a lover and another – a pet. 

— You’re frightened. Are you scared of me, is that it? Be obedient and you won’t have to be. Or do you really want to be punished so badly?

You quickly denied by shaking your head to the sides to which he only hummed. His weight shifted behind your back and a trail of footsteps could be heard as the Lord of the house left the dining room.

A moment passed before you caught yourself staring at the bowl of now cold porridge, slowly digesting the conversation you just held with him, your Master. 

The burden upon your poor, poor mind has overwhelmed you and the realisation of a potential madness weighed heavily upon you. Nothing made sense. Not a single logical explanation has come to light to soothe your fears. 

After those couple of weeks the staff and maids stayed in the shadows, Lord’s age did not match the tales of his youth and those horrible sounds you continued to hear at night? Ugh, they kept you awake, causing dark bags to show under your pretty eyes. 

The manor itself seemed to have poisoned you. Was that it? The reason? You knew you had to leave the house as soon as possible. You had to…

Oh God, what have you gotten yourself into? 

That night was no different to those before it. Wind blowing through the crack in the window’s frame, wheezing and whistling. Your bedsheets are exceptionally cold this time, causing you to shiver and tremble. The candle is still burning, a metal holder standing on the table. 

When you finally manage to curl up under the sheets and doze away slightly, you hear this agonising, scary wails. 

Wait. No. 

Those are no wails.

I-Is someone moaning?

You raised up to a sitting position in a half asleep state. Loose strands of hair stick to the forehead as you continue to listen for more sounds. 

Those seem to be almost human-like. Maybe they are? 

You throw the sheets to the side and crawl out of the bed. You’re frustrated and moody, close to tears from the exhaustion of not being able to sleep. Before you left your chamber, you grabbed that damn candle light and took a deep breath. 

Your bare feet left no traces behind as you walked down the dark hallway. The heart in your chest was about to burst, obviously you were still scared of the dark and what possibly lurks within it. The hem of your nightgown sweeped the wooden flooring that cracked underneath your weight. 

Then, you heard those moans again, louder. You were getting closer. Following the awful sounds you finally get to its source. You knew where your feet happened to take you to and that you shouldn’t have dared to enter this chamber. Nonetheless, you did. The shroud of mystery had to be torn. 

You slowly creeped towards the half-opened, heavy doors and sneaked inside where the darkness swallowed almost everything. Single candles had been lit across the room, creating an ascended ambience. You should have turned around and left, you understood that perfectly well. However, you wanted answers to all the secrets of the manor and its habitants. 

Behind the wooden screen there was a large bed and two figures sitting on its edge. Gardener who was completely bare and whining into Lord’s shoulder, drool leaving the corner of his mouth. Thighs spread open and eyes closed tight. And there he was – Lord Simon dressed in trousers and loose, white chemise. His big hand was tightly wrapped around Johnny’s angry cock, pulling and twisting the sensitive skin. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as Johnny whined pitifully again at the sensation. 

At least now you finally knew what those sounds were exactly – that stormy night Johnny came to you, were they also together? You couldn’t move and kept standing close to the screen, eyes transfixed at the scene you witnessed. So many emotions washed over you – were you embarrassed, scared or even jealous? The dots and the facts slowly began connecting. You had to make haste and leave this room. This house. You knew you had to get away tonight, before things would escalate. Oh God, you couldn’t properly breathe, your face and lungs felt like they were on fire!

— Looks like we have company — the coarse voice of a blonde man made your skin cover in goosebumps. He stared directly at you. — Want to join us? 

Unknowingly you made a muffled whine of embarrassment as you swiftly turned around and started to walk away in a hurry. As if you were in some kind of trance, your body going automatically. You rolled up the long hem of your nightgown not to stumble upon it as you found yourself on the corridor again. 

Christ! You forgot to take the candle with you! 

The breathing became difficult as you had to navigate somehow in the complete darkness. A part of your heart felt betrayed by the erotic scenery you just witnessed, although you couldn’t completely understand why. You and Johnny were a one time thing, why would you feel sorry for him bedding someone else? 

Probably because this “someone else” was your mutual employer.

There were heavy footsteps behind you, they were getting closer and closer. He was right behind the nosy intruder. You tried to fasten your pace, blindly going forward, hoping to find a staircase. Then it would lead you downstairs and outside of the building. But before you even made it halfway to the stairs, you bumped into a slim table standing by the wall. The vase standing on it fell and broke as the painful impact of the table's corner digging into your abdomen sent you to the ground. 

When it was clear you were within his grasp, you tried to crawl further away from him, trying to escape somehow. But Simon was faster and he collected you from the floor. 

— Come, before you’re gonna hurt yourself. — Lord Riley said as he managed to lift up and throw you over his broad shoulder with little effort.

You tried to break free by kicking like a goat and punching him with your curled fist. But how could the strength of a city girl ever compare to the former soldier’s? You groaned, you kicked and you cursed. Nothing could have prepared you for the harsh slap that Simon planted on your bottom. It stung, causing you to go still over his shoulder. And when he spanked you again you bit your lower lip, trying to confide any pathetic whines. 

— Should have whipped you long ago. Maybe it would teach you some respect. 

— I didn't mean to interrupt, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, my Lord!

— Oh, you happened to join us just in time. 

Lord Riley took you back to his bedroom and tossed you down onto his remarkably large bed. This time, he locked the doors from the inside and removed the key from the lock. You were stuck there with them. You managed to back up a little, before Johnny reached you. He sat at your side and carefully extended his hand towards your petrified face, a curtain of hair covering your pretty features.

— It’s alright, bonnie. Calm down. 

— I don’t want to be a part of this. — You stated, kneeling on the bed sheets splayed beneath. Simon stood tall with his hands crossed in front of you and the gardener. Johnny gently began to caress your back in a soothing manner. 

You were caught red handed, busted the only chance to run away and now you were more than positive he would never let you go. You tried to conceal the fears and shame, because now was the time to uncover the truth. 

— What is this? — You asked with a shaking voice, eyes transfixed on the two figures of men, going from the blonde to the brunette. — What’s going on? Please, let’s forget about this. I’ll go back to bed. I–I…

— You already are in one — Lord took a step forward and caught your jaw. He yanked your head up, forcing you to look at him. — Have you finally figured it out? I directly gave you clues. Come on, you’re a smart one. Put the pieces together. 

How could you come up with a logical conclusion? Everything you gathered through the weeks could be interpreted as a mad woman’s nonsense. But you weren’t ill, you were aware of the games going around you.

— You’re much older than you look, that’s what I know. And that you’ve done horrifying, unforgivable things during your service. Lord– Simon — you corrected yourself — what have you done? 

— Think. Harder. 

His patience was running thin. Simon spoke through his bared teeth. 

— Oh, God. Are you a part of this? — You looked at Johnny, before the blonde man caught your throat and lifted you on your feet again. 

— Don’t be harsh on her! She doesn’t know better. She needs to learn. — The Scotsman said to your defence, narrowing his thick brows and scrambling the bridge of his nose. All this time he was sitting comfortably on the bed, absolutely not bothered with his nakedness.  

— There is no God here, sweet girl, I already told you. Only me, Johnny and well, you. I’ve been kind enough to share a piece of me with you and that’s how you repay your Lord? In such childish, pathetic disobedience? Fucking nosy, aren’t we? Or just eager? 

The tall, bulky man reached with his other hand and forcefully cupped your crotch through the thin material of the nightgown, causing you to wriggle in his hold. He prodded against your slit with his finger, toying with you, testing the limits and your responses. And you were very responsive. 

In that moment you thought about the choice of literature Simon had given you. The main plotline revolved around immortality and its consequences, which would somehow explain… some things. Yet what about God? Why did Simon detest him so much?

— God turns his back on people like me and once you sin for us, he will turn on you too — he mockingly snorted, before continuing your torment. — If he didn’t already. 

You tried to tear from his hold, shaking yourself and pushing his chest away. Lord Riley stood like a mountain, not moving an inch. In a quick movement he twirled you around and took a firm hold of the nightgown material at your back. Then you heard how loudly the stitches broke and the teared material slowly fell to the ground, exposing your much alive and young flesh.

Before you realised you were completely bare and managed to cover yourself somehow, Simon grabbed your arms behind your back so you couldn’t move further. 

— I think he sent you to us as a gift — the man leaned against your shoulder, whispering into your ear. — Yeah, that’s what you are – a sweet, innocent present. Isn’t she cute, Johnny? 

Brunette finally stood up from the bed and gently caressed your hip. He was standing so close, you could feel his pulsating cock and its leaking tip on your supple thigh.

— Aye, she is lovely. 

— Have you tasted her, boy? That night you sneaked under her covers? — To which the dark haired one denied. — Well, I think you should compensate the little lady, no? Help her calm down, you know how women can get… hysterical. 

— W-Wait, wait, no, n-no… 

Simon sat down on the edge of the bed and placed you between his massive legs. One of his hands wrapped around your fragile, swan like neck and the other cupped your left breast. Meanwhile, Johnny got down onto his knees and moved closer to the two of you and before he dived between your thighs he looked into the dark irises of his Lord. Not yours. 

— He eats like I starve him beforehand. You’re gonna find out, lovely. 

You tried to squeeze your legs shut, but the gardener kept them spread wide so he could lean closer to your cunt. And when you tried anything like moving or wriggling away, Simon would pull or twist one of your nipples causing you to yelp. 

— She’s really pretty — the Scot said, parting your lower lips apart. The shame washed over you, causing your head to turn into Simon’s shoulder. — Never could have pulled such one while in the army. 

Then he flatten his tongue over your most sensitive parts and started dragging it along the slit. You entangled one of your hands within his brown strands of hair, on top of his head pulling slightly. When his lips sucked at your clit you finally moaned, releasing some tension and anger within you.

— Bird’s already singing.

Simon purred into your ear, nuzzling his eyebrow ridge into your head. The feelings and sensations you were experiencing overflowed your system. The man you trusted as your lover was assaulting your cunt with his mouth and the Lord you were supposed to work for was enjoying the show. You pressed your eyes shut, trying not to cry. But you finally broke and the salty streams began to run down your rosy cheeks. 

— You think she deserves to cum, Johnny? — To which the kneeling men nodded vigorously. — Use your words, stupid mutt. 

— Please, Si, let her. Look how stressed she is. Poor thing, she might need a few more.

— A few- Ah! M-More?! — You squealed again, when someone rolled your nipples between their fingers. 

When your peak neared, you tried to turn your head away and hide. You didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing your face in pure bliss. Simon held your head against his sternum, pressing your forehead backwards. 

You felt like you were on fire, orange flames licking your fingers, your breasts, your inner thighs. 

— That’s it, good girl. 

And when the knot finally bursted, a wave of painful, white pleasure washed over you. The orgasm was so strong, it blinded your senses for a short moment in which the men flipped you around the bed. 

Johnny was supporting your shoulders and your head, while Lord was stirring in front of you. He threw your legs over his thighs and scooped closer to your still wet with saliva crotch. And not only with that…

The new wave of panic overwhelmed you when Simon began to undo his trousers. He was taller and bigger than the gardener in every aspect, you were scared. Taking two lovers, without marital vows? Does this make you a whore? But you didn’t want this!

— No, no, no… — You weeped sadly, trying to crawl away, before Johnny began to caress your head. His grip was tight and successfully held you in place. 

— After tonight, we’ll be joined as one, bonnie. Just us, here in this house, forever. 

— But I-I don’t want this, Johnny! Please, let me go. Let me go.

You repeated as Simon pulled you by the hips closer to him. His now exposed, thick cock stiffened over your soft abdomen, leaking some precum. 

— Shh, Simon knows what’s best for us. He knows. 

When the tip of his length caved his way inside of your warm, silky walls, he was at least decent enough to take it slow. If you felt full during that first night spent with Johnny, this time it seemed even fuller. With his flesh, Simon filled you to the brim, still not even moving. The man saw your struggle to relax, so he leaned down and sucked the thin and delicate skin below your jaw. 

Meanwhile Johnny brushed your hair backwards and with the other hand he caressed your ribs. Somehow they knew how to press each individual button to make you docile enough. 

They learned how to tame you. 

Only then, Simon began to move his hips, thrusting slowly and continuously fastening the pace. His movements made you sway along Johnny’s knees. Your breasts bounced within the rhythm and your eyes searched for them through the half absent haze. 

You got lost in the moment, every breath merged with another. Hands roaming over your body, whose owners you couldn’t really assign, the burning stretch in your cunt that began to lube itself to ease the friction. 

The pleasure that crushed over your sensible thinking, put you in an almost ascended state. You were still sobbing, when Simon fastened his pace and his cock penetrated you deeper, kissing your cervix. You were still trembling, when the two men started making out above you. Their lips crushed in a vulgar exposition of their affection.

— Can’t you see that you’re lost without us, lovely? — The Lord’s voice shaken as he was getting closer to his climax. He leaned down and kissed you, almost stealing your breath away. 

— Wouldn’t last without us, would you, lass? 

They continuously somewhat mocked you and each time after they did, they cooed at you or leaned down to “kiss it better”. By the time Simon finished inside of you, groaning loudly, he spilled the warm seed inside your walls to, as Lord claim, “make you theirs”. 

— Don’t worry, we got you now. We’re gonna take care of you. Just let us… get familiar first. — Johnny said calmly, when the blonde was massaging your tense things. You knew they weren’t yet sated. 

That night you happened to lay over one of Simon’s bulky arms like a pillow. He caged your body from behind, his chest pressing tightly against your spine and Johnny laid on his side in front of you. Through a half awakened state you managed to look through the window that faced the treeline. An edge of forest shrouded in thick, morning mist. 

Tonight you finally were able to put the pieces together. However it was too late anyways.

The house seemed to be stuck in time and space, so were its residents. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. Every aspect of the building stays the same, untouched and reclusive for many years to come. 

You finally let the heavy eyelids close. The sun was rising.

Obviously very inspired by Ghost's music and Crimson Peak, here is Spotify playlist ⟶ 𝕏

[kuoukyeee]

Hi! Could you do any Kengan characters and their s/o getting dressed / ready to go to a fancy event! What if they left early to go to a drive in food place.

I chose Gaolang , Lihito and Wakatsuki. Let me know if you want me to do other characters!

Gender neutral

Not nsfw but is suggestive

Gaolang

• He irons both of your outfits the night before and he would make sure both of you are squeaky clean. Especially if its a formal event! He doesn't want to ruin king Ramas reputation by looking messy in public.

• He shaves and uses some faint aftershave wich has you sniffing him like a dog.

• He would wear a simple and elegant suit in a dark silky colour wich complements his complexion.

• As for you, he would make sure that you're not over or underdressing for the event.

• He helps you zip up anything, or helps you put on your heels(if you wear them).

• He knows all the etiquette and he looks so elegant and shit, it makes you feel like a peasant standing next to him.

• He just oozes this sexy mysterious vibe. You never get tired of ogling him.

Lihito

• I don't think he's the best at choosing outfits for formal events, so you would have to make sure his decisions are appropriate.

• As for picking your own outfit, he's not much help as he would tell you to wear the more sexy outfits, which don't necessarily fit the theme.

• He puts on some strong ass cologne which makes your nose hairs shrivel up💀 (jk)

• But fr you could sniff him out in a crowd bcs of how much he sprays that shit.

• If you ask him to help zip something up he would get horny and start teasing you.

• If you wear a necklace he will try to help you put it on, but both of you will end up struggling to open those tiny ass necklace clasps

• He goes feral when you put on your perfume.

• He's definitely a little anxious because he probably doesn't go to many important events, the only way to calm this sweet himbo down is to give him kisses and nuzzles.

Wakatsuki

• Even tough he wears basic clothes all the damn time, he does have some nice suits. (Unc has style)

• He probably asks you to help him shave so he doesn't miss any spots (he thinks this is such a clever excuse, but you know he just wants you to touch his face)

• He will ask you to show him what youre wearing, and if you twirl he will perk up and flash one of his rare charming grins says sum shit like 'you look gorgeous sweetheart' or 'that looks amazing on you' (grandpa rizz)

• If you ask for help zipping something up, he would be a little hesitant because of his strength. But he will eventually cave in, you would feel his big warm hand holding down your clothes to your body so they don't ride up and he would slowly close the zip. Making sure he doesn't break it. (gentle giant🥺)

• If he wears a suit or a button down, you're fighting your inner demons. Youre salivating over how the fabric presses against his defined body. Youre deffo jumping on him when you get back.

• He has a nice subtle cologne which smells like how he looks yk??(sexy, mature and serious😩).

• This dilf deffo lets you link arms with him. (POWER COUPLE)

[incorrect-koh-posts]

Hi, somehow in 2022 that I know the existence of KOH and this lovely man here T_T, and so starved. Here is my art of B4 to boost my love for the fandom ^^.

Welcome to the party! He is wonderful, thank you! ❤

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Hogwarts No.1 Ship

Fandom: Harry Potter  Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader Word count: 3.4k Summary: You - Rubeus Hagrid’s niece and a surprising slytherin - have a crush on the Slytherin prince himself, but you are sugar and he is spice and there is no world where the two of you would fit together...right? Warning: Swearwordsm concussion, broken bones, but mostly fluffffffffff Requested by the amazing and patient (I’m really sorry it took so long) @onlycherryblossom​: Hi! I love your work and I was wondering if you could right a Draco Malfoy x Reader. you know, the one we talked about. It'd be so awesome! i hope you have a good day/night! (I won’t put our chat in here so that I don’t spoiler anything)

Hogwarts had rarely ever known two students who were as opposite to each other as Draco Malfoy and Y/N Hagrid. Draco - who was the embodiment of how people imagined the stereotype of Slytherin to be - was (most of the time) a prideful, cold, unempathetic prick, while you were a selfless, positive thinking, kind and gentle soul that could‘ve been a descendant of Helga Huffelpuff herself. The two of you did have one thing in common though. Your house. The hat had made you both into Slytherins which was on Draco’s side not surprising at all, but quite a shock for everyone who had talked to you for even a minute. Probably the biggest shock was courtesy of Rubeus Hagris - Half-Giant and your adopted uncle (on his father’s side) - who insisted that the hat must have made a mistake, but was quickly shot down by Dumbledoor who assured that the hat didn‘t make any mistakes. After some initial tumbling though, Hagrid realized that the house didn‘t make the person and that it didn‘t matter in what house you were sorted into, you’d always be his little pumpkin. And he was quite right. Even after you had been a Slytherin for just about five years, you had only grown more kind and loving - having bonded with many people in the other houses and years, but not quite as many in your own house. You’d call Blaze and Millicent maybe something close to friends and Pansy tolerated you which is why you gave her the title of ‘good acquaintances‘, but other than that you didn‘t really have a lot of contact with them in your free time. The most complicated relationship you held though was the one to the aforementioned Draco Malfoy. In a weird twist of fate the two of you somehow became the main ship in Hogwarts (with Harry and Ginny or Harry and Hermione as close second) even though you couldn‘t remember more than two or three times that you had talked to the boy outside of a classroom or study environment. Sure, he had never bullied or teased you which already differentiated you from most of the students, but you simply explained it by the fact that you were a good student - especially in potions class - and behaved well enough to gain a number of house points which made you into a good asset to Slytherin and as such made you a less logical target. Now all in itself that would‘ve been more than fine with you, but for some stupid reason your heart decided to betray you against it‘s better judgement and fall for him. Somehow, even after years of seeing him kick others down and behave like a complete douchebag you couldn‘t help but blush slightly at the mention of his name and feel your heart flutter when you walked by him in the hall or in the common room. The worst part was in potions class where he sat right beside you after Snape deemed your former partner as way too unqualified for one of his best students and exchanged him for Draco. Working with him in and of itself was actually rather nice. He was a good student and did his work thoroughly and mindfully, but you found it hard to concentrate when his hand brushed yours as you read a passage in the book or when he poured ingredients in the coultron that you were stirring. You really tried to ignore your feelings and ban every thought of him, but it seemed like you weren‘t doing the best job at it since your uncle kept asking about what it was that was distracting you all the time. On a rainy October day fairly at the beginning of your fifth year you decided you had enough. You were sitting in your Uncles hut with a plate of more or less edible cookies in front of you and a cup of something that was surely supposed to be tea when you finally gathered the courage to say what you had been meaning to say for weeks now. “Uncle Rubeus, can I ask you something?” Hagrid turned to you with his usual smile as he patted fang who was drooling all over his lap where he had laid his head. “Course ya can pumpkin. What’s it about?” “Uhm...well… you know there is this boy that I-“ “Ohhh Ah see,” Hagrid quickly interrupted you before you could even ask the question, “Ya know, usually I’d be more than happy to help ya with every question you have but ah really don’t thin’ I’m the right person for this, I’m sorry.” A little bit disappointed but not really surprised you just sighed and shook your head, telling him that it was okay, before bidding your goodbyes and making your way back to the castle quietly mulling over what exactly your plan b should be now that plan a had failed and you still had no idea what to do with or how to get rid of your stupid crush on Draco.

“You know what I would do if I were you?“ Ginny asked and pointed the end of her quill at you. The both of you were sitting in a corner of the library where you had planned to help her study for her upcoming potions exam, only for her to basically interrogate you until you admitted that you had an unlucky crush, even though she luckily hadn‘t pushed you to tell her who the guy you had a crush on was. “I‘d probably just tell them, I mean what do you have to lose. Either he‘ll say yes and you‘re happy or he says no and you just avoid him like he doesn‘t even exist - which would honestly be the appropriate reaction if he refuses a snack like you. See, no real downside to it.“ “Oh really? Hmmm, I wonder why you haven‘t told Harry how you feel yet then,“ you teased her and tapped your chin. Ginny‘s face immediately started to rival the colour of her hair and the way she crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted reminded you of an overgrown toddler - but in a cute way. “I-I don‘t like Harry, okay? I mean I did when I was like ten because he was famous and I was a child,“ she tried to make sure you really knew how silly she wanted you to believe she thought it was by drawing out the word child for a good few seconds before rolling her eyes and looking to the side, “And anyway, it‘s not like he‘d date his best friend’s sister…“ “Oh Gin,“ you immediately felt bad and grabbed one of her hands with yours, “Have you looked at yourself? You‘re amazing and if Harry doesn‘t see that through his stupid invisible cloak and these glasses than he doesn‘t even deserve you.“ “Even though I admit that yes, I am amazing, this isn‘t the topic that we should be conversing about right now, remember? I think there‘s a certain blond Slytherin that you should be worried about more right now.“ Immediately blood shot right to your cheeks and you quickly looked around to make sure no one could‘ve heard her before leaning forward and hissing: “What? No? I don‘t like Draco? Why would you even think that? I never said that he is the one I have a crush on.“ Ginny just raised her eyebrows in an unimpressed manner, leaning back in her chair and picking the quill back up to play around with while she talked. “Listen honey, I‘m not judging you or anything. Don‘t get me wrong, I still and probably will always think Draco is a major asshole and doesn‘t even deserve to breath the same air as you-“ “He isn‘t that bad…“ “Yes he is, but anyways, no matter what I think of him I also know that you are a clever girl that knows how to protect herself and who knows, maybe you‘d even have a good influence on him.“ Images of you and Draco together with your friend group laughing and having fun crossed your mind and you could feel your heartbeat fasten involuntarily. “That‘s all great and good, but like I said, I don‘t have a crush on Draco,“ you gave the hope of getting out of this situation with the lie you‘ve been telling yourself for months still intact one last try, but Ginny didn‘t give it the time of day. “Oh please, I see the way you look at him in the dining hall and how your eyes are always on him when he‘s playing quidditch and just now you defended him even though the two of you aren‘t even friends. My love-radar is pinging like crazy around the two of you which is why I, Ginny Wealey also known as the love witch-“ “No one calls you that,“ you interrupted her only to be shushed by an evil glare. “I, Ginny Weasley, will help you in fulfilling your desire and getting together with Draco and I already have the perfect plan.“ “No no no no, please don‘t! Don‘t do this! Ginny no!“ you tried to make your point clear but she was already cleaning up her stuff and getting ready to leave. “Don‘t worry oh sweet Y/N, the next time we‘ll talk everything will be set in motion,“ she winked before dashing off leaving you standing in her figurative dust with your mouth agape for a few seconds before you let your head sink onto the table. This would definitely take an interesting turn…

After that you definitely started to actively avoid Draco which was - surprisingly enough - not as easy as you thought. Somehow he was almost always at least in your near vicinity. Besides the obvious factors of class (where you tried to focus on working and on praying whatever Ginny had planned wouldn‘t happen) and when you were eating in the great hall (where you had resorted to sitting at the very end of the table as far away from him as possible) he seemed to also be there in your free time. You were relaxing in the common room? He was there reading a book. You were outside with Harry and co.? Guess who’s coming their way to insult them (while not saying a single bad thing about you). By now there were just about three places where you were sure that he wouldn’t be able to pop up at any given moment. Your room, the bathroom and the potions classroom on Wednesday and Friday afternoon when class has already ended. After Snape had realized that he had some real potions-potential sitting in front of him he offered you extra credit as some sort of teaching assistant which basically meant that you helped him prepare lessons, helped him grade the first to third years tests and that you cleaned up and organized the potions classroom twice a week. Now usually, knowing that you were more than capable of handling the potions and ingredients standing around on your own after having seen you do it for a few months, you‘d be alone while you cleaned up except for the occasional visit of your professor to tell you which ingredients you should put on the students desks for the next class, but for some reason the next Friday - three days after Ginny had made her promise to you - the door already stood open and you could hear Professor Snape talking to someone. “I really expected better of you, your action is the reasons Slytherin has lost 50 housepoints and I hope you know that it is on you to gain them back, no matter your status,“ Snape‘s voice carried to where you stood and you wondered who the student was if Snape went so easy on them with his lecture. Usually you‘d be afraid for your life after losing even ten house points so getting such a calm reaction for 50 must‘ve really meant something. Your questions about the identity of the student were answered when you entered the dungeon room and immediately felt yourself freeze. Of course not even you (time dependent) sanctuary was safe anymore. Of course Draco just had to stand there and look at you without any identifiable emotion in his gaze. “Ah, Miss Hagrid, right on time as always,“ Snape nodded after he also noticed you and you felt slightly more at ease knowing that with him there nothing could really happen. “Should I come back later?” you asked politely, not sure if you had interrupted something. “No, you may stay. Mister Malfoy over here has got himself caught trying to sabotage McGonagall class, a childish act which I would’ve expected of the Weasleys but really not from you. As a punishment he will be the one to clean the potions classroom bi-weekly from now on until he has regained the house points lost. You’ll supervise him.” “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I understand.” “Malfoy will do all the cleaning but since he has no experience with it I can’t just leave him alone so, since you’d be here anyway, you can watch him and make sure that everything goes orderly.“ It wasn‘t really a question as much as a command, something that you were used to from Snape, so you just nodded and bid him goodbye as he went to his office, leaving you and Draco behind. By now you had seen through what was happening. This was Ginny‘s plan. Somehow she must‘ve managed to blame Malfoy for the prank on McGonagall - something rather extreme given the taken house points- hoping (or somehow knowing) that his punishment would force you to spend at least an hour with him alone in a dimmed room twice a week. Inwardly you cursed your friend, while outwardly you tried everything to avoid directly looking at Draco as you explained his tasks to him before you sat down at your usual place and pulled out a book really hoping you could get him to not talk to you that way. Either your plan was working great or Draco just really didn‘t care for you, because an hour later you still hadn‘t exchanged any words, instead he dutifully, but slightly pouting, had done his job while you shot him the occasional glance to make sure he was doing it correctly. “I think that was all, you should be good to go now,“ you told him with a small smile, relieved that you were finally free to leave the room and with that the tension that had built up inside you as a mix of nervousness and fear. Draco had opened his mouth to respond when a third year came rushing inside with at least twelve books in her arms that almost towered over her which she quickly placed on a table, slightly out of breath. “Professor Snape sent me. He said these have to be sorted and put away.” You could probably feel Draco’s sigh before he had made it and - not really fond of spending more time so frustratingly close to your crush and yet so far - you just nodded and told both of them that you’d take care of it and that they could leave, which both promptly did. You took the books and carried them to the back of the room where a sole, old bookshelf was standing - since the students mostly had their own books - and started putting them away when you heard a sickening crunch before suddenly the shelf including books came crashing down at you and before you could even think to pull out your wand, the world turned black.

“I’m so so so sorry, you were right I shouldn’t have interfered, if I’d just listened to you you wouldn‘t be lying here now,“ Ginny whined from beside your bed where she had been sitting for the past twenty minutes apologizing over and over again and blaming herself for the broken arm, leg and the concussion that had you unable to leave the infirmary for the next three days to a week. “Ginny, how often do I gotta tell you, it isn’t your fault! I would’ve sorted those books in anyways - no matter if you had pulled that prank or not - and it would’ve fallen anyways,” you tried to reassure her and gave her a soft smile. “But-“ “No but, okay? We can’t change the past anyways, and even if we could I wouldn’t because thanks to you, I don’t have to take that stupid DADA test.” Your attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work, because soon you and Ginny were back to your usual conversation-style and it relieved you immensely. It made you feel okay again. She was just telling you of a stung Harry had pulled in the Gryffindor Common room when she suddenly paused mid sentence and looked up. You followed her eyes to where they were placed firmly on a certain Platinum blond boy that looked simultaneously like he’d rather be everywhere else and like he was glad to be there, it was a sight to see. “I think I’ll leave for now, I’ll come back later with tons of sweets that Luna and I are going to steal from Harry’s personal stash,” Ginny said goodbye and gave you a wink as she walked away making you torn between wanting to roll your eyes and feeling yourself blush. Unsure of what to do next you motioned to the chair that Ginny had just occupied and Draco seemed to get the hint because he quickly sat down. “Hey-“ “Hi-“ “Sorry, you first.” “No it’s fine, you’re injured, you go first.” “Well, uhm-“ you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, “-I wanted to thank you, for bringing me here I mean, Madame Pomfrey told me you carried me all the way.” You looked away hoping that he wouldn’t see how nervous you were. “You don’t need to thank me, I couldn’t just let you lay there buried under books, your not Granger after all,” he said, seemingly trying to joke but immediately noticed that it was probably not the best thing to say given that you and Hermione were good friends. “Listen, what I came here for,” now it was Draco’s turn to take a deep breath, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but you were always with Potter or avoiding me or whatever, but after I saw you lying there… I guess I was just worried for you, I really don’t want you to get hurt.” Now that definitely caught your attention. For a second you played with the thought that this could possibly not be Malfoy but just someone else playing him with the help of polyjuice potion because he was definitely not acting like himself, but something in his word convinced you otherwise. “Thanks, I think, but would you mind me asking why? I mean...we’re not really the closest of friends,” you asked him, looking directly into his face to search signs of a possible answer. “Fuck it, I like you, okay? Happy?” You were completely stunned. Stunned, speechless, shocked. In all the time that you had been crushing on him you had never even really considered even the slightest possibility that he could reciprocate your feelings but now here he was telling you straight up. “You-You like me? Like like-like me?” You asked, just really wanting to be sure. There was a hint of nervousness and worry in his eyes, but he hid it behind a wall of annoyance. “You heard me, didn’t you? So, just get it over with, do you like me too or do you not, because if you don’t then I don’t want to waste my time any longer.” This definitely sounded more like the Draco you were used to and you had to giggle a little bit. “Yes, yes I like you too,” you confessed and like it was the most natural thing in the world you moved the uninjured hand over to where he laid on your bed and took it in yours. For the moment, you were caught in the shimmer of happiness and glee at having your crush there with you, definitely something more than your crush, and it would probably take a while until you‘d realize that there were some interesting things to follow, like telling your uncle about this for example...

[magniloquent-raven]

more trans billy fic! read my first two here and here (not necessary for context, but they are technically a series)

(cw: talk of past suicidal thoughts/suicide attempt)

~~

billy's never been with anyone who didn't ask about his scars.

if it wasn't their opening line—fake concerned bullshit, trying to get in his pants by pretending to care, it only worked on the days he was feeling especially low—it would always come up later. some people's idea of good pillow talk. like the fact that they'd stuck their dick in him meant they were entitled to his life story or something.

once, a guy made it a whole three weeks before he asked. he'd picked the dude up at a bar and kept around because he was good with his hands. then kicked him to the curb because he was shit at minding his own business.

everyone seems to think him wearing low-cut shirts that leave the twisting ropes of scar tissue over his heart on full display means they're allowed to pry.

everyone except steve.

they knew each other for months before they started dating, and he never brought it up. and now. he's seen all of billy's scars and he hasn't asked about a single one.

and billy's starting to wonder if he wants him to.

they're laying in bed together one morning, the sun streaming in through half-drawn blinds, dappled on the bedspread and lighting up the honey coloured highlights in steve's hair.

hair that's tickling billy's nose, but he can't bring himself to move. not when steve is so comfortably draped across his chest, breath warm against his collarbone, fingertips absently trailing up and down, caressing his side.

another first for billy, truth be told. he didn't date much before steve—wasn't really the boyfriend type—and the people he did date never did this. never wanted to just...exist together in an easy silence, sharing soft touches with no intent.

it should make him antsy, the stillness, the quiet, but he's found himself enjoying the lie-ins just as much as the mornings he coaxes steve awake with lazy kisses and a thigh pressed between his legs.

on really good days he gets both.

but today...today steve's lips trail down billy's chest, following the sunburst lines of scar tissue, and. billy stops him. with a hesitant hand on steve's shoulder. and steve looks up at him, a question in his wide brown eyes.

"you've never asked," he says after a moment, holding steve's gaze but shifting nervously.

"asked?...if you want to—oh god, did you not want me to—shit, billy, if you aren't in the mood you can just say so, i—" steve starts to pull away, scrambling, looking absolutely mortified, but billy shakes his head immediately and pulls steve back to his side wrapping his arms around his waist.

"not about that, jesus."

a relieved sigh ruffles his curls, and steve relaxes into his embrace, "alright, then...what?"

billy chews the inside of his cheek. "the scars, steve. you're not even a little curious?"

there's a pause. "what? i mean, i thought, uh...guys like you usually get, like, surgery right?"

"...you thought—" billy chokes on a strangled noise that's almost a laugh. "what, that i got my tits hacked off with a chainsaw or something?"

steve snorts against his shoulder, smushing his face further into the crook of billy's neck with a groan, "maybe? shut up. i dunno how it works, okay. didn't figure it was polite to ask." he shifts his weight around, wriggling into a position that lets him look at billy's face without detangling their limbs.

"ahh, country club etiquette, shoulda known." billy smirks at steve's eyeroll. "next time just ask, baby."

"okay." he worries at his bottom lip, brow furrowed, gaze darting between billy's face and his chest. he puts a hand over the worst of the scarring, palm flat over billy's sternum. "so..." his voice is soft, suddenly, hesitant, "what happened?"

he expects regret. irritation at himself. shame. he expects to feel himself closing off, second guessing his decision to invite the questions. but.

he covers steve's hand with his own. lets out a breath. lays there and feels nothing but the warmth of steve's body next to his, and a slight twist of trepidation in his gut.

"i was kind of. a fucked up teenager," he starts, and grimaces. "used to jump into any fight i could find. and when i was eighteen...i stumbled across...something. all i know is there was some little girl about to get kidnapped or worse, and i. well. i blacked out most of it, but. she got away. and i woke up in a hospital a few days later all..." he pauses, and gestures vaguely at his chest. "and there were all these people tellin' me it was a fuckin' miracle i survived, but..."

his blinks away the tears threatening to fall, turning from steve's wide-eyed concern, but steve puts a gentle hand on his cheek and guides him back. "but what?" he murmurs, brushing curls away from billy's face.

but he never wanted to wake up in the first place.

but every time someone told him what he did was brave he just got a little angrier, a little more bitter.

but no matter how much better staying at the hospital was, away from neil, away from max, always trying to be his sister, no matter how many times he told himself his life was better now, he still felt hollow and lonely and...

he's never talked about it. any of it. not with the shitty hospital-mandated therapist they assigned him when he was still bedridden. not with the psychiatrist he went to a few years later when he was trying to get prescribed testosterone. not with any of the friends he's made here.

he doesn't know why the hell he decided digging up this particular skeleton was a good idea now, but he can't exactly rebury it at this point.

steve's hand is warm and solid and his thumb keeps softly rubbing his cheekbone and making his heart flutter. and he supposes that's the why of it. love has made him an idiot.

he sighs. leans into steve's touch. "i hated it. all of it. there was this article in the local fucking paper and everything, about what i did, calling it heroic. and people constantly telling me i should be grateful to be alive but i didn't want to be." his breath catches in this throat, voice breaking, "i didn't save that kid to be a hero, i did it because i wanted to die."

steve makes a wounded noise, low in his throat. "billy..."

"i don't anymore," he says quietly. "i—it hasn't been that bad in a long time."

there's a moment. a pause. a silence that has billy holding his breath as steve watches him with a pinched frown, his eyes shining with unshed tears. and then he shifts, slips a leg over billy's and rolls on top of him, rustling the sheets and knocking the air from billy's lungs.

it takes billy a second to realize what's happening, that steve's buried his face in the crook of his neck again, but this time hugging him with his whole damn body.

"...steve?"

"m'sorry," he whispers, muffled and quiet, breath hot against billy's skin. "sorry i wasn't there."

billy's heart clenches. painfully, bittersweet, swooping like he's been dropped from a great height. he tightens his hold on steve's waist. "you're here now. and i'm okay." he pauses, and turns his face to rest his cheek against steve's dishevelled head. "better than okay."

steve hums. kisses his collarbone. slips his hands more securely under billy, wiggling til his palms are squished between billy's shoulder-blades and the rumpled sheets. "you're sure?"

"yeah, pretty boy. i'm good."

"...good enough to make me pancakes?"

billy snorts. "i can't when you're laying on top of me, steve."

"lies. i know you can lift me."

he snorts again, dissolving into helpless giggles that entirely ruin his ability to respond with a clever retort. steve lifts his head and meets his eye, smiling softly. he presses that smile to billy's mouth.

and they have their pancakes. later. much later.

[marinedecoder]

oopsie whoopsie, i bought dolls. now in my defence, my partner enabled encouraged me, and also i freaked out when i saw them. why?

because i never thought i'd see these in the uk. they had them all for the current rainbow vision dolls, minus the k-pop group obviously. they had the Storm twins. they didn't, weirdly, have Ainsley. i am eternally bewildered by how the decisions are made on what gets into the UK and what doesn't when it comes to dolls 🤷‍♂️

anyway! i chose Sabrina (because she's Pink and her face mold really caught me in person) and Uma...because i wanted Mara but there were no electric pink gals without weird issues with their faceups - Harley suffered the same issues, and i love Uma's style so she was the one this time.

Sabrina is gorgeous, her colour scheme is so soft and i love it. her little accessories have me enchanted (especially the suitcase! its wheels turn in every direction on proper casters like a real suitcase! both handles work! the doors are stiff as hell, and i need a tool to remove the inner drawer but it's all very cute!), her fur coat has genuinely won me over this time when i'm generally not into the RH fur coats (and it's lined beautifully), and i adore her shoes.

she didn't have any body defects for a change, though i think her lipstick is a touch too much on one side so i'll need to fix that. i'm assuming i can use acetone and a fine brush for that? her face is super charming to me, and her nails and tiny rings are so cute! her hair is a bit of a state, though. it's all over the place, caked in product that's made it feel almost greasy as well as crunchy somehow, and tonnes came out just with a gentle brush (including a whole plug's worth, so washing will be interesting lol)

that's too much loose hair for one gentle comb through! Sabrina also, like Delilah, didn't come with coathangers. which i'm genuinely bummed about! i love the little coathangers! i am not above learning to resin cast exclusively so i can make hangers for all the girls missing them and have a complete rainbow of coathangers!

moving on to Uma, now!

i am totally in love with all her clothing pieces, her makeup, and her face mold. like Sabrina, she has a rare case of zero flaws!

her trousers have a nice, loose fit - a total novelty for RH! i discovered this is because they've made her skirt tight as hell instead. clever move on MGA's part, keeping me on my toes, heaven forfend i have an easy time dressing a doll and more fool me for assuming i could do so! also, i wish doll companies would stop using tiny tags to hold clothes onto card and stuff, it's a nuisance.

bafflingly, Uma comes with coathangers?? i'm sure i heard that w1 of SH didn't have them, so why are we getting them here? why with the Neon Shadow dolls but not the Rainbiw Divas?? why did they stop putting them in with the RH girls at w4?? who is making these decisions??? i'm not mad that Uma has them - very happy, actually - just. perplexed by the decision making!

also, Uma's face mold is stunning - i sort of wonder if she has the same mold as Georgia? she captures me in the same way, where i can't stop staring at her.

overall i'm super satisfied eitu these girls and can't wait to give them their little salon day and get them ready for display. i adore them.

[sunflowersoonyoung]

sweet & dangerous | hui

w.c ↠ 2.2k

pairing ↠ hui x fem!reader

genre/s ↠ smut, incubus! hui, supernatural au!, dom! hui

description ↠ the gentleman whom often visits your workplace decides to surprise you elsewhere - somewhere rather unexpected.

warning/s ↠ suggestive themes, supernatural themes

a/n ↠ hi guys~! it’s been a while, hasn’t it? i’m pretty proud of this piece, it took me many nights and lots of proofreading, but finally it’s out! check out pentagon if you haven’t, they’re super underrated~

-

Remnants of sleep were still crumbling off you as the clock passed nine; over an hour since you arrived at your workplace - a small cafe. Tangerine light stretched across the smooth wooden countertop, emanating a dull warmth that took the edge off of the cold.

Your favourite coworker, Eunbin, was rostered on with you. Currently sweeping the front whilst humming, she seemed particularly joyful considering it was a workday.

“You seem happy today,” you commented, observing her as you absently wiped off the coffee machine. She tucked a strand of loose chestnut hair beneath an ear and gleamed at you proudly.

“I put some extra effort into my makeup today. I’m hoping Hoetaek will notice,” she hummed sheepishly. The subject of her excitement did not surprise you.

“You’re at work,” you scolded, “you shouldn’t worry about those sorts of things.”

Hoetaek was a regular, and also the focus of practically all fourteen of your coworkers. Once one had met him, they would swiftly understand why.

He was quite attractive, with a slim face and thick lips. It often drew attention towards him, turning heads. You had served him numerous times, and he always spoke with a gentle tone and polite attitude. A winning combination of beauty inside and out.

Also, there was something about his aura. You could never place a finger on it, but he was strangely magnetising.

Eunbin scoffed, retrieving the dustpan to collect the dirt pile from the floor. She tipped the dust into the bin and faced you with crossed arms.

“You know he’s handsome. What if he offered you his number? Would you worry about work then?”

“It would be unprofessional if I accepted it,” you replied firmly.

She rolled her eyes, her excitement stifled by your stiff response, “I’m going out the back for some stuff.”

The very moment she disappeared, the bell attached to the front door chimed softly.

“Good morn-,” you had to swallow a choked cry of shock as you met the curious gaze of Hoetaek. He seemed to be quite amused that he had found you alone, a strange atmosphere ebbing from him. Something akin to sexual tension.

“Hello, darling,” he hummed, feigning his usual demeanour but with a hint of shrewdness, “the usual, please.”

Hoetaek always ordered a vanilla-raspberry muffin and a latte - you had served him this every day for over a year. As you slipped his dessert into a paper bag, you could feel his scorching stare following you with every movement.

His soft palm grazed yours as he exchanged money, and you almost jerked away, surprised by the sensation. The contact shot hot electricity up your arm, wiping clean any thoughts that were bubbling up.

Disorientated by your overwhelmed state, you decided instead to focus on making his coffee. However, this became increasingly more difficult as you could feel him still watching you. In the corner of your eye, you observed him leaning across the countertop, running his tongue over his bottom lip tantalisingly before finally speaking.

“I’m glad I finally have you to myself,” he remarked, his inky irises peering at you - surveying your expression for a reaction.

You tried desperately to steel yourself, but despite that, you could feel your face prickling with heat.

A gradual smile stretched across Hoetaek’s face, amusement painting his features. You were working so hard to remain professional, and to him, it was entertaining. A sly side was emerging from beneath his pleasant exterior.

“I bet one of your coworkers wouldn’t hesitate to say something. But you’re a good girl, aren’t you? I guess that’s why you’re my favourite.”

The frigid room grew exceedingly hot, every word that left his thick lips dripping with guile and lust. You could feel a familiar warmth ebb between your legs, images of his firm thighs overrunning your mind.

Briskly finishing his drink, you sealed it with a lid and pressed it into his hands, forcing a polite smile, “here’s your coffee. Have a nice day.”

Hoetaek’s eyebrows raise incredulously, staring back at you as if you had just done something ridiculous, and honestly, you had. It was apparent that he was unused to rejection, because he faltered, numbly clutching his coffee.

“I get it,” he finally spoke, tucking his free hand into a pocket, “your work is important. I’ll just have to try something different.”

With that, he turned his back to you and strode casually through the front door, leaving you behind to simmer over his ominous statement.

“Everything okay?”

Eunbin’s return was unexpected, and she settled a palm on your shoulder. You were in such a daze that her abrupt touch caused you to flinch. She frowned at you, visibly concerned.

“Y-Yeah, everything’s fine. Hoetaek just came in.”

Her jaw immediately dropped, and she shrieked in alarm.

“No!”

-

The sheets of your bed were soothing against your skin as you slid your feet beneath them. You stretched your toes, sighing happily.

Even long after work had finished, the incident with Hoetaek had never ceased to bother you. Things as simple as the colour of his voice were still replaying in your head. His parting words had especially troubled you.

Admittedly, you were bothered for more than one reason.

You had relished every passing thought of him bending you over the counters, feeling the silky head of his cock sliding between your folds. Now you were unbearably hot - your clitoris was throbbing against your underwear.

It had been quite a while since you had last touched yourself. As the warm pad of your finger ran over your swollen clit, you gasped, raising your hips from the mattress.

Though your pace was slow, you were ridiculously sensitive. Pleasure quickly began accumulating. You clamped your eyes shut, bright spots speckled behind your eyelids. You were so focussed upon the buzz washing across your body, that you failed to notice you were sinking into a deep sleep.

-

A soft white light shone against your face, languidly stirring you from slumber. You could feel leather beneath your bare skin, which caught you off guard. Your surroundings were hazy as if you were peering through a tinted lens. A broad figure came into view, his hands folded into the pockets of tight black suit pants.

“Hey, darling. Been waiting for you.”

Hoetaek was standing over you, carrying with him a heavy presence. He wore a white button-up, slightly undone to reveal a stretch of olive skin. You shrunk against the sofa upon recognition, covering up your almost-nude body.

He placed a finger beneath your chin and gently tilted your head towards him.

“I know you’ve been thinking about me. Who knew you were so naughty?” He hummed, curiosity painting his handsome features. He seemed vivid against the fuzzy background, every inch of him hyper-accurate.

It was strangely realistic, considering this was a dream.

“Up,” Hoetaek ordered, pulling you onto your feet by your wrist, “let’s find out if those fantasies of yours were accurate.”

You were so dazzled by his suave grin that you barely noticed as he spun you around and pushed you down across soft sheets. His palm smacked your bare thigh, urging you to crawl up the plush mattress till your head landed on the pillows.

His lips were just as full as you had dreamt of, and a pleasant scent tickled your nose as he kissed you. All of the heat in the atmosphere was soaked up by your body, filling you with desperation. You just wanted him to relieve you from the insatiable need that was eating you up, driving you insane.

Hoetaek’s fingers wrapped around your forearms amidst a dizzying kiss, tugging them above your head and clamping them in place. The weight and the subtle warmth of his figure draped across you was hardly enough contact to sate you, and he knew it.

Every slight sensation felt so real. The way his button-up brushed against your chest, the way his saliva tasted; you wanted to engrave every detail into your mind, so you would not forget when you woke.

His mouth began travelling down your neck, growing increasingly rougher as he progressed till his teeth were pinching the tops of your breasts. You groaned, arching your back against the bedding. His thumbs hooked the lace of your underpants, deliberately tugging them down your legs teasingly, letting his hands skim your thighs.

A warm finger ran between the lips of your slick pussy, and a sharp gasp slipped from your throat.

“Was it thinking about me that made you this wet?” He purred, eyes shimmering as he peered down at your vulnerable form.

Abruptly, his thick finger plunged inside of you, right down to his knuckle.

It took every inch of your willpower not to cry out, swallowing your voice and finding the pillow behind your head, capturing the fabric in your fists. Hoetaek tutted, “there’s no need to keep quiet - no one can hear you. What do I need to do to make you lose some of those inhibitions, hm?”

His question was rhetorical, and it seemed he had already planned out the answer. His hands were almost large enough to wrap around your thighs as he parted them, crawling between them. You breathed in to brace yourself as his hot breath hit your bare pussy.

Never had you ever felt such immeasurable pleasure. It crashed over you in electric waves, only accumulating more intensely with each passing moment. The way his fingers seemed to move in tandem with his tongue was almost unbearable. It was a clever tactic for him to pin down your legs, which were trembling uncontrollably.

You were so sensitive that when he suckled gently, your orgasm crashed into you. He seemed uncaring, overstimulating you mercilessly till your eyes burned with tears.

As you recovered, Hoetaek’s blurred figure loomed over you. Through a sheen of tears, you watched him lap up your nectar from his finger with a cocky grin spread across his face.

“Oh~, is that all it took?”

He reached down and unclasped your bra with one hand, exposing your bare breasts. With his other hand, he undid the buttons on his shirt.

“I can make you feel even better,” he hummed, kneeling to unbuckle his pants, tugging them down his hips just enough to free his cock - which practically gleams with perfection. The sight fills your mouth with saliva.

Hoetaek dragged you closer against him, roughly pushing the head of his shaft against your ebbing heat. You instinctively closed your eyes; he looked far too large to fit painlessly. Anticipation mingled with fear coursed through your veins.

Abruptly, his cock sunk inside of you with surprising ease. You gasped, squirming and writhing as your pussy clung to him. A groan rolled up from the pit of his throat.

“So fucking tight,” he growled, hips grinding against your backside. Once he starts moving, the air fills with only your simultaneous grunts. You can no longer see his face, your vision blurring as his cock reaches a place you have never managed to reach alone. It makes your head spin and your skin flush.

“Good girl, you’re taking it well. Just focus on me,” Hoetaek purred, his pace relentless, practically shoving you into the sheets. Everything fades away, your focus honing in upon the way he slid in and out of you.

It felt incredible, to the extent that when his thumb harshly pressed against your clit, you came far harder than earlier. Perhaps it was because you had something to clench around, but it was so overwhelming that drool began running down your chin.

You were gasping for air when you came down from your high, gradually noticing that Hoetaek had stopped. Through your fogged vision, he was smiling.

“You came pretty hard, huh? Better rest up, else you’ll be sore tomorrow.”

But you craved him and his sweet warmth. You wanted his firm arms wrapped around you, comforting you as you slept. Sadness washed over you as his handsome features began to blur into the background, till there was nothing but blackness.

-

Morning sunlight slithered across your face, stirring you from peaceful slumber. Shards of your dream still lingered, recalling arousal to the pit of your belly. You had never had such a vividly sexual dream, the immense pleasure still fresh in your memory.

You almost feared facing Hoetaek again, knowing you would be unable to see him the same way ever again.

Stiffness resided in your limbs, a sort of mild soreness warming your muscles as you stretched. It was strange; you had to assume that you had slept awkwardly. There was only one other explanation, but that was too farfetched of an answer.

Shuffling languidly from your bedroom, you planned to prepare for a day empty of activities. It was your day off, after all.

What alarmed you, dragging you back to reality, was the smell of pancakes. It was a familiar, sweet scent. You hastened your pace, hurrying into your kitchen to investigate.

Hoetaek stood at your stovetop, almost fully naked - save for his boxer shorts, orange lighting reflecting off his beautiful tan skin. You had to blink, dizzied by the impossible picture. He offered you a mischievous grin.

“Sleep well?”

[littlesparklight]

Ghost Stories

"Hektor."

Startling, Hektor got to his feet on pure reflex as he looked up. Hermes looked too real in the gentle light of Elysium, his smile too large for the flatness of his eyes.

"Wh---"

"I need your help for a moment," Hermes said, his voice swinging up to near joviality as he reached out, grabbed Hektor's hand, and the world twisted. "We'll just circumvent Cerberus this time, he gets so cranky and we're on a time limit!"

"---at." Hektor finished the word as they came out into the world again, the actual world, a brisk breeze Hektor could tell the existence of more from remembered suggestion than truly experiencing it, and he found he was glad for that. He wasn't yet ready to face the real, physical world. Even less so when he recognized the sunset-drenched hill, unfamiliar-familiar ruins peeking up in places they not quite shouldn't.

"You'll probably need this." Hermes said, holding out a hand and letting the medallion drop sharply down from it. It swung lazily back and forth, gleaming gold as if new, edged in red light much like it must have been with blood, once.

Hektor recoiled, stomach churning, but when Hermes let go, he snatched it up before it fell to the ground.

"Why?" Looking away from the god and around them again, Hektor wanted to demand to go back. This was what he had left behind, and he'd had no plans on ever seeing this place again.

"He kicks me out if I try, and that's if I can even find him. I think you'll have better luck."

Snapping back around to stare up at Hermes, Hektor squeezed the medallion in his hand. He might not be real, but the medallion felt as real as the wind didn't, heavy and warming up in his hand, digging into his fingers. There was no need to ask who, the question was more -

"Kicking you out?" One of the gods? The psychopomp, even? Hector shook his head, incredulous. "Shouldn't Helen have better luck? And they told me he didn't want to see us."

He'd asked. Several times, by now, when he'd realized someone was missing. Hermes smiled, cold and tight, and Hektor refused to cringe away from the dread weight now poisoning the air, but it was a near thing.

"Ghosts are their own thing, especially the older they get. Helen he won't even show himself to, she's tried. And you should turn that reasoning around, Hektor." Hermes shoved him, and Hektor stumbled forward, up.

Turn it around? None of them had said anything about not wanting Paris there--- But that wasn't the sticking point, was it? It was what Paris believed that mattered, and for as unapologetic as Paris had been his whole life about what and how he was, that didn't mean he was blind to what people thought. And said. So many things said. Closing his eyes for a moment, Hektor pressed his lips together, then continued. Scaling the hill turned the ruins and cleared pathways into different ruins, cobbled and earth streets, a choking pall of black smoke hanging in the air. There was no fire, but the distant sunset coloured the clouds, bled down the cracked stones. He had not been here, had not seen this. Did not have lungs to ache at the non-existent smoke, but every not-real breath ached anyway, tickling his throat and threatening coughing. There were no corpses, but there didn't need to be.

Hektor was a little embarrassed to have gone to Paris' house at first, when he found it empty. There was a sword sticking out from under the ruin of the bed, and not one that had been Paris'. Hektor ignored it and walked back out. He found Paris in the megaron, sitting on the floor and staring at the bench altar to Zeus. There was the urge to back right out and flee, but, after daring a second look past his stiff reflex, Hektor found no corpses on the altar, no blood. The stench of smoke and blood was thick in here, but there were no corpses. His knuckles ached.

"Go away."

The megaron was dark, and yet there was no mistaking the twisting unease that flickered about the hunched figure, threatening to rear up and lash out. It seemed to be as much from Paris as attached to him, and Hektor frowned.

"Behaving like this isn't becoming, Alexander. It's time to come home---"

Hektor realized he might have chosen the wrong tack, his tone having fallen too easily in familiar chiding, disappointed and sharp on his tongue, when Paris laughed, though it cracked somewhere in the middle and he did not imagine the muffled sob.

"Home? I am home, aren't I? What's left of it, and I--- I'm--- You don't have to pretend like you want me messing up Elysium too. You can just tell Hermes you didn't find me, so you'll still have done your duty and can stop feeling obligated just becau---"

"You have no idea what I feel or want," Hektor snapped as he stormed over, yanking Paris back by his shoulder and then he was airborne, stinging blackness burrowing beneath his skin, trying to make him drop the medallion. He clamped down on it on reflex even when his whole being rattled as he slammed into one of the pillars around the hearth, staggering down to his knees before he caught himself. The smoke-filled ruin threatened to shift back to clear, sunset-lit hill, and it would have been easy to let go. So very easy. He <i>could</i> tell Hermes he hadn't found him, had failed.

But failing wasn't something Hektor had ever allowed himself to do consciously. He dug the edge of the medallion into his palm and the surroundings stabilised.

"Hektor!" Upset, Paris might be, but he flew to his feet and came over all the same, eyes dark and worried.

Dragging more than being part of the miasma that clung to him, now, and Hektor didn't like that. Didn't like either what he was looking at. Not that Paris was any less stunningly pretty than he'd ever been, no. It was more the bruised darkness around his eyes, the harsh corners of his mouth, his messy hair too long and unadorned, the rags. Paris hadn't ever been dressed like that, not even when he'd been relatively poor; he'd taken care and pride to dress as nicely as he could with what means he had. For all that he'd always complained and tried to... encourage Paris to a more proper presentation, this was just wrong.

Paris staggered to his knees when he reached him, and it took Hektor a moment or two to pick out the muffled litany bleeding into his knees. Maybe he had wanted his little brother to take more obvious responsibility than he ever had seemed to while they were alive, but this?

This was just grotesque.

"I've asked the Lord and the Lady several times where you were," he said quietly, dropping his free hand onto the lank, too long curls, tangled by very intentional neglect. "I have been tempted more than once to accuse them of maltreating you and lying to me, for they kept saying you didn't want to see us."

"T-that's true. Because I know, you wouldn't want to---"

"You don't know what I want, little brother." Hektor couldn't help the slight edge that crept into his voice, but he kept his hand light. Under it, against his knees, Paris sobbed, just quietly. "Stop nursing this anger in your heart; you would have no one else do this."

It wasn't, exactly, what he'd once said, but it was similar enough, and by Paris' wavering laugh, he hadn't missed it.

"It's not so much anger as grief, Hektor."

The edge to the miasma wasn't quite so biting, now. Quickly, before something might go wrong, Hektor gathered all that ridiculous hair in one hand so he could shove the medallion about Paris' neck. Paris reared upright, clutching at the medallion as if he couldn't breathe, yanking it up so he could stare at it, but he didn't try to take it off.

"This---" His voice cracked and the miasma surged, but Hektor ducked down and picked Paris up with a grunt. He was lighter than he should be. If a ghost should have any weight at all, but the thing was, Paris looked as slender but broad-shouldered as he always had, enough width to his archer's shoulders to counteract the sleekness elsewhere and not make him look fragile, and he was supposed to be heavier than this.

"Hektor!" There was one hand, near claw-like, digging into his shoulder, the other Paris was clutching around the medallion as if it was a lifeline, and his eyes were huge and dark and with a threatening sheen. There was a tremble around that far too clever mouth Hektor hadn't seen since Paris was ten.

"I'm neither waiting around nor waiting for you to catch up, this time. If I have to carry you out of here for you to understand I'm serious, I will." Hektor glanced at Paris sternly while he took one step towards the megaron's exit, and Paris looked away, the shimmer overflowing.

One thick clump of darkness fell to the floor and evaporated. With every step, more followed, and when Hektor was out of the megaron, the only darkness clinging to Paris was the shadows around his eyes, the ones cast by his own hair on his too-pale face. Hektor still didn't let go, and when Paris turned back around and curled up against him, hiding his face in the crook of his neck, Hektor might have stumbled if he wasn't so determined.

He walked back to Hermes, who smiled at him but said nothing as he took them away from Troy, real and remembered ruins both melting away for the softer darkness of the Underworld.

[agerefandom]

Through Anything

Fandom: Critical Role 

Characters: Jester, Beau, and Yasha. (Jester and Beau are both regressing: Yasha is contentedly between headspaces.) 

Words: 1,200

Summary: Jester redoes Yasha’s hair, with help from Beau. 

Warnings: No relevant warnings, and no CR spoilers! (one ambiguous backstory reference). 

Author’s Note: I have absolutely no idea when this fic is set :P    The song is a Stella original, I was trying to create a lullaby that had Wildmother vibes. 

“Yasha, your hair is so pretty!” Jester enthused, running her hands through it. She had been undoing the braids for almost an hour now, her clever fingers picking apart the ties, setting aside the liberated ribbons and beads. Yasha was content to sit and allow it, drifting peacefully in the feeling of Jester’s careful work. It was nice to be at ease, her friends around her and the day nearing its end. “You should wear it down sometimes.”

“It would get tangled,” Yasha said, tugging a section in front of her face so that she could run her own fingers through it. She rebraided her hair once a week, but it was much nicer when Jester helped.

“Well, I would just have to brush it more often!”

Jester loved taking care of other people’s hair, whether she was feeling young or not. It so happened that she was regressed at the moment, but that didn’t make her any less gentle as she picked Yasha’s braids apart.

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Yasha tilted her head back and closed her eyes, surrendering again to Jester’s vision.

“Brushing your hair is really fun,” Jester enthused. “I like the black part the best.” Jester rubbed her fingers over Yasha’s scalp, where her hair was darkest, and Yasha hummed in response, leaning into the touch. “You’re like a big Frumpkin!” Jester said, abandoning the braids to give Yasha some more pets. The feeling of peaceful drifting got stronger, as Jester’s fingers traced little patterns across Yasha’s head. It felt like she was floating in the air, Jester’s hands the only real things. “Good kitty,” Jester giggled.

“Is Yasha being a cat again?”

Yasha opened her eyes at the sound of Beau’s voice, squinting for a moment against the light of the setting sun.

Beau was standing beside one of the trees that lined the meadow, her arms full of a miscellany of greenery. Long vines fell over her arms, and flowers were twined between her fingers to keep them safely held. She made her way over to them and dumped the plants beside Jester, careful to keep the flowers on top of the vines so their petals didn’t get crushed.

“Is that enough, Jester?”

“That’s perfect, Beau!” Jester picked up one of the golden flowers and admired it, then tucked it behind her ear. “Do you want to sit on Yasha while I finish her hair?”

“It would be my absolute pleasure.”

Beau gave Yasha a look and Yasha immediately opened her arms. Beau took the gesture as the invitation it was, and nestled herself into Yasha’s crossed legs. Yasha wrapped her arms around her once she was settled.

There was something so wonderful about this: Beau solid and warm against her, safe in her arms, and Jester’s fingers taking apart her hair and her anxieties all at once.

“I love when you hold me like this,” Beau murmured, leaning back against Yasha’s chest. “Makes me feel so small.”

“You are small,” Yasha said. She could rest her chin on top of Beau’s head when they were curled together like this, so she did.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Beau laughed. Yasha could feel her body relaxing.

“You are allowed to be small,” Yasha corrected herself, and pressed a gentle kiss to Beau’s temple. The girl in her arms melted.

“Yasha,” Beau protested, hiding her face in uncharacteristic embarrassment.

“Beau.” Yasha mimicked her tone teasingly, rubbing her thumbs against Beau’s hips to reassure her.

“You can’t say things like that.”

“But I can.”

Jester had finished undoing the braids, and had switched to brushing Yasha’s hair out. It tugged a bit at her scalp, despite Jester’s caution, but it was easy to push aside the mild discomfort.

“I love you,” Beau said, very quietly.

“And I you,” Yasha replied. She would never get tired of hearing those words, quiet or loud, soft or angry. Beau’s love was not a simple thing, and neither was Yasha’s. But here, the three of them, it seemed as natural as breathing.

“You guys are cheesy,” Jester said. She didn’t sound like she was complaining.

“You might have a playmate, Jester,” Yasha said, squeezing her arms around Beau’s middle.

“Beau! You’re feeling little? Do you want to help with the flowers? This is the fun part!” Jester leaned against Yasha’s back, craning her neck to see Beau over Yasha’s shoulder.

“M’tired,” Beau said, reaching up to touch Jester’s hand. “No more flowers.”

“Kay, that’s just more fun for me!” Jester said, and retreated again. “Yasha, you should sing a song so Beau can sleep.”

Yasha hesitated. She knew a number of songs from her youth, but none of them were especially restful. War songs and lullabies about blood were not what she wanted to share, even if Beau and Jester didn’t know Xhorhassian. She sorted through her memory for a more appropriate melody, and eventually landed on something she had heard Caduceus singing to Caleb several nights ago.

The river runs, the leaves will fall I’ll hold onto you throughout it all. The path is long, so hold my hand The wind will blow across the land.

Close your eyes, hear it sing I’ll carry you through anything. The flowers bloom, the tide comes in, Let the time for sleep begin.

The song repeated three times, and by the time Yasha reached the last repetition, Beau was asleep against her chest.

“That was really pretty,” Jester stage-whispered. “I think I’m done your hair. Do you want to see?”

“Of course.”

Jester flounced in front of Yasha, brandishing a silver mirror. It used to have a communication enchantment, which had long since been used up, but Jester still carried it around to check her hair and pretend to talk to.

In its polished reflection, Yasha could see herself: paint washed off, pale skin free of colour. Jester had intertwined the beads and flowers into Yasha’s hair, so that the braids were longer and fell across her shoulders. The flowers were stark against the black and white of her hair, a rainbow of colours held together by bright ribbons.

“I love it, Jester,” Yasha said truthfully, holding a hand to her heart.

Jester squealed quietly and jumped in a circle, trying not to wake Beau with her outburst of energy.

“Can I do it again tomorrow?”

“If we stop early enough, absolutely.” Yasha knew the flowers wouldn’t last long in her hair, but they were beautiful, and she would love to have them redone the next day. Yasha brought up a hand, and brushed it against the soft petals strewn through her hair.

She would have loved this.

The thought was bittersweet, but Yasha smiled through it.

“Thank you, Jester. Should we return to the others?”

“Yes! I have leftover flowers and I want to see if Nott will let me do her hair next.” Jester excitedly gathered up the remaining greenery, and Yasha carefully lifted Beau into her arms. Beau stirred, mumbled something questioning, and subsided back against Yasha’s shoulder.

“Sleep, Beau.” Yasha followed Jester back towards the campsite the others were setting up, her newly braided hair cascading down her back. “I’ve got you.”

[phytocondria]

Regency Fluff

So... me and a couple friends were gushing about discussing a wonderful Recency AU and @themerrypanda suggested a Regency Era AU prompt. "Mayor Lewis is holding an early summer ball at his residence. Everyone is invited and the valley is very excited." Word Count: 1,275 Summary: The first two dances of a ball are quite significant, but not more than friendship. “I think Mr. Kent, has been looking a great deal at our little corner since his arrival.” For as meek and quiet as everyone accused the young redhead of being, there was nothing less than mischief and merrymaking at Maru’s expense in Miss Penny’s words. Maru flushed and turned away from where her friend was peering, swallowing down both butterflies and a heavy lump in her throat.

“Perhaps, he’s finally realized the mistakes he’s made against someone so angelic.” Maru hadn’t meant to whisper back so sternly. Miss Honeyfield looked away from where the young gentleman was playing cards with his friends and back to her friend, startled by Maru’s clear barbs against him.

“Maru...” Penny finally whispered back, so tender and sweet, Maru’s heart bled in her chest. She knew what her friend would say, Penny was too good and Marus too close not to know. Maru stood up from where they had been sitting and moved towards the refreshments. Penny’s mother, Mrs. Pamela Honeyfield always seemed to make it her business to test any drinks the town enjoyed, and Maru was thankful her most common amendment was to fortify the punch. Maru let the alcoholic warmth spread into her limbs. She had half a glass down before Penny joined her again, careful not to bring anyone else's attention onto them as they pretended to take a tart from the table of snacks before supper.

Penny was always so much better at that than Maru. She was graceful and kind and feminine where Maru was “spirited” and “enthusiastic”, which ultimately meant she was clumsy, blathering on on odd topics when she got nervous, but how was she expected to be a proper lady in such a tiny hampshire when she had a “spirited” mother and a father who encouraged her interest in “unladylike” subjects? Maru hadn’t meant to snap at her friend, but the mistake had been made and still, Penny was more benevolent than Yoba herself, because she let her friend continue to drink her punch while slipping her hand into the empty hand and held onto it like when they were little girls. Yoba, Maru wished the punch could dull her mind enough to quiet the constant buzz of thoughts.

For all Maru’s cleverness, she’d trade it all… maybe half… okay a third of her wits to have half the sense as her friend needed to remain quiet. Penny let the cup empty and Maru to settle down before offering her a biscuit. Maru noticed one with strawberry jam and relented. “It’s been years now Maru.” Penny started, voice soft enough even Mr Smith, barely a meter away picking at the exorbitant spread Lewis had prepared, wouldn’t be able to overhear. “A childhood fancy, we both grew out of before even coming out into society.”

Now that the biscuit had been swallowed, Maru’s lip fell tightly between teeth as she kept the rest of her turbulent mind in check. She waited for Mr. Smith to walk away with his mince pies and cold meats before gathering the courage to speak up again.“I know” Maru tested the power of her will into forcing her words to behave for once. “Penny, you’re as dear to me as my own mother and father, dearer than any sister I could have ever had, or ever will have.“ Now that she’d begun, the floodgates had begun and Penny did her best to lead them into some quiet corner as Maru continued her admonshing. ”Samson Kent is a scoundrel who treated my friend with such absolute injustice, he should be sent into the mines to battle whatever creatures dwell there until Yoba sees fit, because if it were left to you, you’d forgive him this instant and-”

“Maru, I was the one to end it.” Penny interrupted so calmly as to completely subdue Maru’s fever. She stared dumbstruck as the older girl continued. “We were children, him especially, and while it was… flattering, once my father’s home was entailed away, I- “ Penny paused, her eyes full of sorrow, but smiled with the grace of an angel. “All I’ve ever wanted was peace, adventures contained in books I can set aside. He was good then, but I could never stand to let him join his father in the army, and I’m grateful he didn’t. So,” she continued, the delicate chin raised in determination and sporting humor returning to her countenance.”You must promise your oldest friend whom you love more than a sister, if Mr. Samson Kent asks you to dance, you will accept and have a merry time, is that clear?”

Maru chuckled wetly, dabbing the beginnings of tears from her eyes as she smiled back. “Only if you promise, even if it’s the faintest nettle of a past displeasure at seeing us, tell me,” Maru begged. At the slightest word, Maru would set herself to marry the doctor who viewed her more like the daughter he never had the opportunity to have with his late wife or better yet, become an old maid and never dance with anyone past this day. Her father would be sure to agree to the latter with ease.

“I give you my word, Miss Maru Oakly, but do not think just because I am your senior, I will not manage a comfortable, little home for myself.” Penny bristled with a lively, playfulness few knew lived within the quiet school teacher of Pelican Town.

“Never” Maru laughed along with their friend, an easy air falling between them, until a sudden fuss brought their attentions back to the front of the Mayoral home.

“It looks as if the Governor and his niece have finally arrived.” Penny murmured as she craned her neck over the crowd. “Should we head over to be introduced?”

“Ah, Miss Oakly, Miss Honeyfield” Almost as soon as the two began to move forward, a voice intreated them for their pause from a few feet to the side. “Might I escort you two into the entryway?” the very same young man with wheat coloured hair and fair eyes the ladies had been discussing probed. Maru glanced at the other lady, who was all gentle smiles but gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance before speaking up.

“That would be most agreeable Mr. Kent.” she assured, before moving to take his left arm. The complete lack of awkwardness between the two was almost enough to fully reassure Maru and quiet the what ifs. Maru took his right arm when it was offered, and her thoughts began to buzz into non language as a fluttery excitement bubbled up at his closeness.

Even when each lady had been settled within their expected place in the line to greet the newcomers, Samson stayed close to Maru. After they had all made their hellos, an unspoken awkward nervousness kept them close, before his own restlessness finally got the best of him and he turned to her with flushed cheeks and hopeful smile. “I was hoping... If you don’t already have a partner of course… Umm, might I please request your hand for the first two dances?” he stumbled at the final bit, rushing to say it before he lost his nerve.

“Yes” The word surprised them both, each releasing an anxious sigh that quickly shifted to a relieved chuckle.��I may not be the best dance partner though.” she mumbled, cheeks aflame.

“I could never want for a better one.” He offered, his face as red as hers felt. He was wrong of course, Maru was ill practiced for dancing, but he hardly seemed to mind, asking to dance with her again more than once that night.

[charlettebffxiv]

Prompt #15 Thunderous

“What was the weirdest one?” Maxim’s curiosity never let-up, especially when it came to Charlette’s life in the Order. Consistently, he would pepper her with questions about it. You would think the man had made an unfortunate blunder in his choice of career, but really he had no choice. The Order was never open to him, not as the second born of a family that already had a member in the Order itself. They were not so greedy as to lock-up a family line in their ranks. But here he was again, trying to foist as much information about it as he can, while he and Charlette sit outside the Greenhouse having breakfast before starting their morning duties. “The weirdest one? They are missions to destroy or retrieve aberrant aetherical items or events. It is all weird, Maxim.” She knew how frustrating she was being, but she also knew she was not wrong. There was nothing boring, normal or everyday about the work she did.

“Don’t make me beg. I know you like it when I do, but I’m feeling too dignified this morning. Maybe later I’ll take it down a peg or three, but right now I’m far too proud. Have you seen my Thanalan blossoms? Nothing but pride coming off of those.” His flowers were looking quite fetching, she had to admit that. “Well, if that is all the reward you want for it, then fine. Just let me think for a moment.” He leaned back, hands up, face bright with excitement. Charlette dipped her spoon into the bowl of muesli, swishing it around in the milk until she had just the right amount of raisins on her spoon before taking a bite. The crunch was satisfying, as was the gentle tang. A favourite morning meal of hers. “Gods, I cannot really decide on a single one. Would you prefer weird and exciting or weird and scary?” Maxim tapped his spoon against his bowl, having to ponder for barely a second “Exciting!” “Alright then. So, have you heard of the churning mists? It is in the north, Ishgard is the closest city you will find to it, and even then you have to take a lengthy flight, by airship, to even get there.” At the mention of the infamous floating islands of the Churning Mists, Maxim was already set in. You could tell when he was interested by how he shuts his mouth for once, and just pays attention. “Our final destination was in the northernmost reaches of the Churning Mists. We had been called in by an old contact that often trades with the Librarians in the Order. Anything we find that does not need to be sealed away, or just kept in our own collection, is generally fair game for traders and collectors looking for rare texts. You tend to find a lot of those, when you plunder a secret library every second moon.” The Archives were created with the intent of sealing away all knowledge and technology that might cause harm to the balance of Eorzea, but like anything else it ran on gil. It’s not the proudest piece of the Order’s function, but it has made Willow’s Heart Library a bit of a jewel of the trade. At least for those who know about it, and are trustworthy enough. “The Trader was on one of his usual routes, he was one that did not scare from the more dangerous airways. Churning Mists is known not just for its strange location, and the Beastribe that inhabits it. It is also known for Sky Pirates. He had a particular route though, one that had proven safe each time, and also provided difficult terrain for anything bigger than your basic Merchants skiff to traverse. This time though, he had found something very strange. A derelict vessel.” Maxim had abandoned his food, both elbows on the table and his chin rested in his hands. This little turn in the story made his eyes widen, the bright-blue colour almost flashing in the morning light. Charlette was a complete sucker for a captive audience of course. “We were called out, and it took two airship rides and a very turbulent trip in a cramped skiff to get to this derelict. The strangest thing about it, was that it had not crashed or docked anywhere. It just hung there, in the air, but in pieces. Like it had been diced with a clever into three sections. All of it, not quite together, but kept close and in-line with each other by long strands of lightning aether. The beams sparked and flitted between the sections, and it was all so perfectly aligned you would think it was a model being pieced together.” Charlette had started speaking with her hands, holding them apart and mimicking a model builder slowly pressing parts into each other. “The strangest part, though, was the sound. It was like a thunderous storm, if it was yalms away inside a tunnel. It echoed out in pulses, and each time it did, the air around the ship shimmered and shook. But the ship itself remained firm in its position. And we had to board the damn thing.” She remembered now, the anxiety she had felt just from that sound. It was not loud, or intimidating, but it had all the qualities of something that should be. It was oppressive, she could feel it vibrating in her ears. But it was such an even sound. “Did you board it then? Must have been dangerous, isn’t lightning aether one of the most chaotic?” Charlette nodded, Maxim looked a little more proud. She would have to be careful, or he might give himself a crown by the end of the sun. “The Trader brought his ship as close as he could, it left a short jump for us. Not too difficult, Alistair and I cleared it fine. A’nidreah took a running jump, but she landed it as well as you would think. We had been looking around the section we were on, the stern, before we realized the sound had stopped.” Maxim’s “Ooh!” was very satisfying. “The pulses were still going off, but the sound no longer reflected. It was terribly disorientating though, the air around us felt almost like it was thicker? It is difficult to explain, but it was something between normal, and being submerged in water. Like our steps were lighter, but slower, and our breaths were more laboured. Alistair attempted to run, when he got close to the edge he tried to plant his feet and stop, but he just kept sliding. Right to the end, and then whoops! Over it.” The furrow on Maxim’s brown was a little worried. “Well, Alistair is fine, I saw him just the other sun. So I assume he didn’t fall?” Charlette shook her head. “Nope. He kept sliding until he slowed to a stop, in mid-air. Like he was standing on a solid deck. It did not stop him from screaming, a lot. But only at first.” Maxim didn’t laugh, in fact he looked a little more pale at the idea of it. “We all stepped out onto it, and it was terrifying. You have to really fight yourself for every step, because what you see is nothing but a drop into endless clouds and a likely death. But it was solid, it even tapped like you were standing on glass, or metal. It felt completely wrong, utterly at odds with the natural order of things. There we stood, land borne bipeds, but on nothing. Suspended. No matter how much I understood that, my mind just twisted and whirled around it, moments of panic came, then calm, then more panic. It felt like falling, being rescued, then falling again.” The more Charlette thought about it, the more the sensation came back. Hairs stood up, her skin pulled into goosebumps, even her breath caught as a shiver of adrenaline flowed up her body. Maxim broke her from the moment though, asking “What was it?” Charlette took another bite of her breakfast, and in an intentionally vague response said “Another ship!” Maxim was confused, understandable really since this made no sense. “The Sky Pirates had crashed into another ship, this one had already been caught in the small pathway. We used a device, one of A’nidreah’s little constructs actually. She calls it a Mystique.” The seeker was rather proud of her forays into aetherical constructs, and this was no less a moment of pride for her too. Like Maxim and his blossoms. “Basically it mists an area with aether-neutral smoke. It disrupts fields and illusions, like a glamour and it exposed the other ship. It looked ancient, made mostly from metal like a Garlean vessel, and had been there for some time. Turns out The Trader had lost his way on his own path and stumbled on this. Likely in the same manner the Sky Pirates had. The ship had been wedged into a front bumper made of large, blade like teeth jutting from the front. The Sky Pirate crew must have abandoned their ship, taking their loot with them. But we looked through the ancient ship and found the source of the cloak.” she left that hanging, just for Maxim. Who waited, then raised his hands, and finally asked in an annoyed and urgent tone “What was it?” “Order secret.” Charlette finished, with a smug smile. “Now let’s finish breakfast, we’re going to be late to our shift.” Maxim sulked the rest of the sun.

[risukadarlin]

[toubousha] jiro’s volume - track two

2;  scene two - a pink rose

listen along・masterpost

                                　　　               　　　                         ✿

Good evening.

I’ll be your host this evening. I’m Jiro.

You didn’t request anyone yet?

Then you must have called for me in your head~

Why are you sitting all alone in the corner like this?

Is that what you’re into?

Then I must have interrupted.

Hm? Ah, I see.

I’m sorry.

I was too friendly right off the bat.

But elegant girls like you don’t come here often.

If you’re not used to it, just say that.

I’m joking.

Let’s see, judging by your attitude -

You didn’t want to come here at all but you couldn’t refuse your friend’s invitation and so you were dragged here, or something?

It’s fine.

It’s too noisy for your friend to hear.

Hm? Your co-worker?

Oh, is that her sat over there?

I see her at least three times a month.

I’m serious.

She comes loads.

She can request our top earner, after all?

Huh? Is she that uptight at work?

She seems so used to places like this.

I’ve been here a while but I’m sure she’s been coming here for at least two years.

Look, our number one is all over her.

Yes, the guy next to your co-worker.

She’s so strong.

Older women are so powerful.

It’s almost scary.

That’s just what women are like.

Well, not just women.

But I’m right, aren’t I?

Everyone has different sides to them.

Even stone-faced elite workers become women at places like this.

Hey, if you stare too much, she’ll notice.

Let’s have fun ourselves.

You don’t have to be so on guard, you know?

If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to hurt my feelings.

I’m sorry for being so informal earlier.

I was wrong.

I won’t do anything bad so please don’t hate me.

I might have given you the worst first impression but I’ll make it better.

Really really better, so please!

You finally laughed.

Don’t force yourself to put on a straight face like that.

You have a cute smile.

I’m not saying you’re not always cute, of course.

But, it’s like… watching a crimson rose turn pink.

Huh? You don’t get it?

Well, it looks like you’re not nervous anymore.

Can I ask your name yet?

I’m Jiro. Wait, I said that before.

You are?

Nice name!

You’re lucky your parents had some sense.

When I was born, our dog was called Tarou so they called me Jirou - which means second son - even though I was the oldest child.

I’m serious!

It’s my real name.

I do like it, though.

Everyone laughs when I tell them that story, just like you did.

Well then.

Do you want something to drink?

Why are you on guard again all of a sudden?

We have alcohol and we have soft drinks and all the rest.

Look, the prices are written on the menu so choose whatever you want.

It’s expensive if you compare it to a cheap restaurant, but…

Huh!?

No way, no way.

You don’t have to buy a whole bottle or anything. 

Not at all.

I see.

That’s what people think of us, huh?

There are loads of host clubs you can come to for a reasonable price.

This is one of them, after all.

There are definitely places that have some shady things going on but…

I don’t think a normal person like you will get involved in them.

Especially when you’re so clearly wary.

Is your co-worker not paying for you?

Huh?

You have to pay yourself?

She’s stingier than I thought.

It’s fine, she can’t hear us.

I didn’t mean to insult one of our customers, I just…

Got a bit jealous, I think.

She won’t even look at me, you know?

Even though I’m this considerate and perfect and handsome-- I mean cute.

What was funny about that?

You really are cute when you laugh.

I’m not lying.

I’m not clever enough to say things I’m not thinking.

You should be more confident.

You look like you’re always trying to hide behind a wall that isn’t there.

Look, you always look right away.

It’s such a shame you keep hiding your cute face.

You are. 

You really don’t believe it?

You’re popular with the guys at work, right?

They probably talk about you when you’re not there.

You’re unattainable, in a way.

Not that you’re on a high horse or anything.

But it feels like if I touched you, I’d get you dirty.

You’re fleeting and gentle and pure white.

It'd be a shame to ruin such a clean colour.

So all I can do is admire you from afar.

That’s what you’re like.

I’m not joking.

I said, didn’t I?

I don’t say things I don’t mean.

My hand is extremely dirty, obviously.

Anyone who works in a place like this is.

I’m not trying to be rude about my co-workers but there’s no such thing as a host with a pure heart.

You should be careful.

They’re all talk.

Me? 

I’m an awful person too, of course.

I don’t seem like it?

Then, you won’t get angry if I touch you?

See, you don’t want me to!

I’m joking. 

Don’t hold back.

Huh? It’s okay?

You’re serious?

Then…

Can I touch your hair?

I thought it was pretty…

It’s as silky as I thought.

Don’t be embarrassed.

Your eyelashes are so long.

Don’t keep looking down.

Show me your face.

Well, if you look up at me like that, even I’ll get embarrassed.

You’re not good at making eye contact?

I see.

You really are pure.

You’re beautiful and you know nothing and it’s blinding.

I feel like I’m drawn to you.

Wai-wait!

Ouch.

You really don’t hold back…

I’m sorry.

Don’t cry.

I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just got caught up in the moment.

I didn’t think kissing you would make you cry.

I thought girls liked things like that.

I see.

You just didn’t want me to kiss you.

Huh? If that’s not it, then what?

Ugh… The owner’s giving me the look…

Sorry, I’ll go get scolded.

I’m really sorry.

I don’t do that to everyone.

I know I’m a host but…

I was serious.

I’m sorry for saying such weird things.

I’m really sorry.

[buckleyirondad]

3. My Way Or The Highway “Held At Gunpoint”

Peter, is held at gunpoint, by a grieving mother, Tony has to talk her down.

AO3 Link

Peter loved travelling to the new and approved, post-Thanos Headquarters, with Tony.

He loved watching Tony interact with the staff and interns, especially if they’d never spoken to him, properly before.

The way their faces would light up, their shoulders would relax, and they’d smile, because Tony, was one of the easiest people to have a conversation with.

People never expected that.

They built an image of him, even Peter was guilty of that when they first met.

From how the media portrayed him, Tony was a ‘no shit elitist billionaire,’ with no time for ‘common folk,’ who spent his days, surrounded by his creations. In reality, he was one of the kindest people, Peter had ever met and had the fortune, to love.

Tony cared for his personnel, even before handing the company over to Pepper, and as second-in-command, he still did. They paid triple, sometimes even quadruple of what was expected for every role, from the janitors to the infirmary staff. They took care of their sick staff, retired staff, and gave new parents, three years off, if they wanted it.

Tony understood that he had too much money, for one person, that he’d never truly need. Some of it was built up, from illegal activity, thanks to Stane. That was something he desperately wanted to fix.

Nobody cared more than Tony Stark, he proved that when he laid down his life, for the universe, but the media still labelled him as a ‘war profiteer,’ despite him leaving that part of his father’s legacy behind.

“So…” Tony nudged Peter’s arm with his shoulder as they walked through the main lobby, “You’re training with Rhodey today, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s he got planned?”

“Not sure.” He shrugged, “Probably something exhausting.”

“Ha.” Tony cackled, “He only does it because he cares.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “I guess.

A staff member walked past, she smiled, “Good morning, Peter!”

He awkwardly waved, “Hey.”

Tony reached over, pinching his cheek, “You’re a total fan favourite here, kiddo.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, “Only because you won’t stop talking about me.”

“I can talk about whomever I choose.”

“Mr. Stark!” An intern, only a few years older than Peter, charged over, with his hand raised, “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” Tony grinned, “Henry, right?”

Henry’s eyes widened, “Yeah, that’s right.”

Tony stepped aside, with him, “What’s up?”

“I’ve got a question about, the aircraft my team are working on—”

Peter lingered, looking around.

The staff greeted him, with smiles and waves, even those he’d never met or seen around.

Cassie skipped by, with a box in her arms, “Oh, hey Peter!”

“Hey, Cass.” He looked at the box of random stuff in her arms, "You seem busy." 

"We're working on my suit!" She exclaimed, "You need to pop by Hope’s office later." 

“That’s so cool.” He said excitedly, “Yeah, I’ll come up after training.”

"Ah." She grinned, "I can't wait to train with you."

"It will be amazing," He smiled, "Have you got a name yet?"

"Dad was thinking Peanut," She rolled her eyes, "But Mum and Hope said Stature, that's my favourite." 

"Stature's amazing."

"Thanks." She backed up, towards the elevator, "See you soon."

“See you.”

Peter bounced, back and forth, on his heels. He wondered if he should head up, Tony would find him.

He turned to make a move but mindlessly halted.

The hairs on his arm, and the back of his neck, stood on edge.

He reached out, for Tony’s arm, but before he could, something cold was pressed against his temple.

He looked aside, to make sure Cassie had got into the elevator, she was gone, that was good, at least she was safe. 

Peter sucked in a sharp breath, and stood, dangerously still. He didn’t have to wonder, he knew exactly what this was.

A spindly arm folded around his chest, holding him back.

People around scattered, with screams and shrieks, some ducked behind a desk.

“What—” Tony turned, and his jaw-dropping open; his cheeks drained of all colour, “Oh—”

He doesn’t have anything with him, to stop this.

Peter stood strong, taking slow and even breaths. He locked his eyes onto Tony. Peter knew he could disarm whoever was holding him, but the gun was pushed against his head, if they were trigger happy, it could still hit him, or worse, somebody around him.

“Okay.” Tony relaxed his arms beside him, “Pete, keep your eyes on me.”

He did.

Tony looked aside, shaking his head; Peter guessed he was directing his security staff to stand down.

“Hannah?” Tony’s voice was gentle, “It’s Hannah, isn’t it? Biotech division?” He held up his hands, in front of him, “I’ve heard that you’re quite clever. You’ve proven that, by being able to sneak that gun in. How’d you manage that?”

“I—” She didn’t sound confident, with her action, but she pushed through, “It doesn’t matter.”

Peter could see Tony’s panic, and how he was mentally planning ways to secure the building more than he already had.

She stammered, “You know my name?”

“I know everybody’s names.” Tony told her, “I’m good with faces.”

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“Who me?” Tony rested a hand on his chest, “Oh, I do, sometimes too much.”

She snapped, “You just throw money into everything.”

“Maybe, but I guess that’s my conscience, and I do like helping people.” He assured her, “And I wanna help you.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” Tony spoke softly, although his hands were shaking, “I do care, about you, and the kid—”

“You’re lying.” She spat, “You don’t care about anyone!”

“I know what happened to you.” He said cautiously, “Your son, Simon—he was—”

She shrieked, “Don’t say his name!”

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” Tony nodded, “But if you let Peter go, then I can help you.”

“It’s your fault!” She yelled, “I lost my Simon, in the blip, and it was the worst five years of my life!”

Peter frowned, trying to catch up.

He knew it wasn’t easy, for people who lost those they loved and then got them back, after five years without them.

According to Tony, the grief never went away. Peter would catch him staring like he was looking right through him as if he was nothing more than an apparition.

“Then you and your blasted team brought him back again!” She screamed, “I got my second chance, and he was taken from me again, by fucking drunk driver!”

Peter flinched, closing his eyes. She’d lost her son, within the first year, of having him back. He couldn’t imagine.

He hated to admit it but, if he were to die, it would destroy Tony. That was one of the reasons, he was more committed to being a Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man, instead of an Avenger.

Hannah bellowed, “You shouldn’t have meddled, I lost my boy twice!”

Tony’s face contorted, “I can’t imagine.” He gestured, to Peter, “But—but, do you know he is?”

“No.”

“He’s my kid.”

“That’s a lie—” She cried, “You don’t have a son.”

“Peter came into my life, much later on,” He explained, “But—he is my kid, and he means the world to me, I can’t lose him, Hannah.” His voice trembled slightly, “He was a victim of Thanos as well, do you understand?”

The arm locked around Peter’s front trembled.

“I don’t think you want to hurt anybody, not really.” Tony took a small step forward, “You want people to see you and understand what you’re going through, yeah?”

Hannah mumbled inaudibly.

“I promise, that if you let my kid go, nothing bad is going to happen to you.” He vowed, “I’m gonna do all I can, to help you get the support that you need.”

Hannah choked out a sob, her hold around Peter wavered, and she dropped the gun, to the floor.

“Stay!” Tony ordered, halting the security who were ready to swarm her, “Peter—” He held out his arm, grabbing his wrist and pulling him over, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Tony bent down, brushing a hand through Peter’s curls and pressing a kiss against his forehead.

Tony looked to the intern, “Watch him please.”

Henry nodded, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Tony moved over, kicking Hannah’s gun aside.

The elevator doors opened, Scott, Hope, and Cassie emerged, frightened looks written across their faces. Scott and Hope, stood in front, suited up, but their shoulders relaxed, when their eyes locked onto Tony.

Cassie pushed through them, "Peter!" She crashed into him, pulling him into a hug, "Oh, my-" 

He folded his arms around her, "Hey."

"Are you okay?" She leaned back, "Friday told us what was happening, and we--" 

She offered her a smile, "I'm fine." 

Cassie turned, to look, at Hannah and Tony, she kept a hand rested against Peter's arm. 

Hannah looked over at them, but cast her eyes away, looking at the ground, "I'm sorry, " She blubbered, bringing a hand to her mouth, “I’m sorry, I’d never would—I want—I just—”

He placed a hand, on her shoulder, “I understand.”

Peter’s mouth twitched, into a smile, because at the end of the day, nobody cared more than Tony Stark.

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Kirby Roussimoff Fact Sheet (Jan 20 2001)

Yes I am open to RPing with my characters. Especially Kirby Roussimoff. Tagging @piratewithvigor @wendigoruble @enigmaticandunstable and @the--blackdahlia (because I think y'all will like this)

From @rphelper 's (NEW AND IMPROVED!) BASIC CHARACTER STATISTICS TEMPLATE

Basic Information

Full Name: Kirby Andrea Roussimoff (Formerly Trevor)

Nickname(s): Kirbs, K, Andi

Age: 31

Date of Birth: Jan 13th 1970

Hometown: Ellerbe, Richmond County, North Carolina, USA

Current Location: Depends on the show, (lives in Ellerbe)

Ethnicity: Caucasian (Irish-Welsh & Scottish-Norwegian)

Nationality: Naturalised American Citizen

Gender: Cis Female

Pronouns: She / Her

Orientation: Biromantic & Demisexual

Religion: Wiccan (Formerly Christian)

Political Affiliation: Apolitical

Occupation: Professional Wrestler

Living Arrangements: Lives on the road mainly, staying in Motels, Hotels. Lives alone when at home (Since '93)

Language(s) Spoken: French, English, Spanish, Welsh, Scottish

Accent: North Carolinian, with a faint Welsh lilt / inflection

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: Alison Lohman, Anika Braun, Elle Fanning, Evan Rachel Wood

Hair Colour: Blonde

Eye Colour: Blue/Aqua

Height: 6'10" / 208 cm

Weight: 250 lbs / 113 kg

Build: lean but athletic, an acrobat's body shape

Tattoos: check out this post

Piercings: double lobe piercings (both sides) triple helix piercings (right ear), double helix piercings (left ear), conch piercing (right ear), flat piercing (right ear), tragus (left ear)

Clothing Style: gothic / geeky / grungy

Usual Expression: straight-faced, stern but helpful

Distinguishing Characteristics: scars on both eyebrows, scar on left side of her top lip, beauty marks beneath left eye and left side of her bottom lip, faint scars on other parts of her body, fairly obvious signs of gigantism (larger hands, jaw, proportions in general)

Health

Physical Ailments: Gigantism / Acromegaly

Neurological Conditions: Anxiety

Allergies: None

Sleeping Habits: Light sleeper, often wakes at the slightest sound, sleeps around 5 - 7 hours a night, goes to sleep early (like as soon as she gets back from a show) and wakes up early (usually around 4-6 am)

Eating Habits: Often skips meals, drinks a lot of coffee, fairly healthy, cooks her own food when she can, protein rich meals

Exercise Habits: Exercises when she can, often 1- 2 hour work outs, mainly focusing on her legs and flexibility

Emotional Stability: in public or on screen - 10, she has to be the strong, straight-faced one often, in private - 5, depends on who she's with, but she isn't the best at staying calm

Sociability: looks like a loner but prefers to be around people, she only needs to be alone to sleep and she hates being alone, she loves to forget how she feels about herself by being around others

Body Temperature: cold-natured, tends not to show much emotion

Addictions: Clean (used to be addicted to Ecstasy)

Drug Use: Currently none, used to use weed, LSD and ecstasy

Alcohol Use: drinks socially

Personality

Label: The Acrobat, The Artist, The Clever, The Cool-Headed, The Cynical, The Emotionless, The Generous, The Ghost, The Guardian, The Heir, The Independent, The Invisible, The Medium, The Observant, The Professional, The Protector, The Respectful, The Shadow

Positive Traits: bright, calm, caring, creative, determined, generous, gentle, hard-working, honest, imaginative, independent, intelligent, kind, polite, powerful, reserved, self-disciplined, thoughtful

Negative Traits: cynical, impatient, jealous, moody, nervous, overcritical, pessimistic, quick-tempered, ruthless, sarcastic, secretive, timid, vulgar

Goals/Desires: 1 - return home, 2 - find love, 3 - have a family, 4 - win the Women's championship belt

Fears: Arachnophobia – Fear of spiders, Atychiphobia – Fear of failure, Autophobia – Fear of being alone, Claustrophobia – Fear of confined spaces, Nosocomephobia – Fear of hospitals

Hobbies: collecting comic books, collecting wrestling and movie memorabilia, photography, scrapbooking, film making, painting, drawing, arcade games, poker, foosball, pinball, acrobatics, gymnastics, skateboarding, surfing, reading, poetry, cooking, baking

Habits: Tendency to mumble, relies on buffer words ('uh', 'um', 'like'), rubs her neck when embarrassed

Favourites

Weather: Mist or fog

Colour: Orange (of any shade)

Music: Deee-Lite, 'Goodnight Elisabeth' from the 'Recovering the Satellites' album by Counting Crows, rock, metal or funk, Counting Crows

Movies: Philip Seymour Hoffman or Chris Farley, Winona Ryder or Sarah Michelle Gellar, the Princess Bride, Horror or Comedy

Sport: Wrestling

Beverage: Espresso Martini or coffee (w/ 2 brown sugars)

Food: "I don't have one." or macarons or crème brûlée

Animal: Frogs

Family

Father: Biological Dad: Eric Liam Huw Trevor (Deceased) Adoptive Father: André René Roussimoff (Deceased)

Mother: Biological Mother: Heaven Trevor (Neé Taggart) (Deceased)

Sibling(s): Surrogate Brother: Paul Wight / Big Show

Children: None (Currently)

Pet(s): None

Family’s Financial Status: Rich, very rich

Extra

Zodiac Sign: Capricorn

[fizzyxcustard]

His Call To The Sea (Thorin Oakenshield)

Day 17 of Lyn’s Writing Event

Event Masterlist

Summary: You are the Captain of your very own pirate ship and one night, whilst out on deck, you hear the haunting song of the Mer People and their tragic story of how they lost their home to the evil sea monster, Smaug. 

Warnings: None. 

Comments: We are now moving into week 3 which is the AU series of prompts. This fic actually came from an idea I had a few weeks ago in regards to Thorin as a merman. 

There had been a major storm on the sea that afternoon, one of the worst you’d seen since you began your command of your ship two years ago. Most of your crew were below deck, asleep in their hammocks. A couple were up in the crow’s nest, keeping a lookout, along with the ship’s parrot, whom you nicknamed The Admiral. No doubt if there was anything out on the sea which was of a risk to you and the crew, The Admiral would see it first. He had especially sharp eyes and hearing for a clever, and rather stubborn, ball of feathers. 

Stars were amass in the sky above you. You imagined God taking a handful of confetti and throwing it into the heavens. The sea had become calm, with only a gentle rock of the ship. It relaxed you and made your eyes begin to close. 

You were jolted awake by a deep hum on the air. It sounded like the voice of a man, distant and haunting. But it was so ethereal and beautiful. Nothing like you had ever heard before. 

Your eyes scanned the ocean, unable to see anything, until gradually a large rock came into view. It was easily ten feet across and rose about six feet out of the water. Mist had been swirling around the rock, but it was now dissipating. 

“Hello?” you called out, noticing the vague outline of a figure sat upon the rock. 

Was no one else on the ship seeing this? Surely the lookouts would have seen what was happening down below, but they were still going about their business, probably waging their collection of bottle caps again. Hopefully after your next quest, you would all be considerably richer and have collections that far, far, far outweighed the value of bottle caps and the odd schilling. 

“Admiral?” you called, but the bird was too busy preening his feathers on the other side of the ship. 

The singing continued and when you looked closer, you could see that it was the figure who was creating that breathtaking sound. You listened to his words as he sang about the great sea monster, Smaug, who had driven the Mer-people of Erebor out of their home deep beneath the waves. This was just a tale; a myth you had read about in books when you were little. In those years gone by, your father had been priming you to become a lady, someone who would be only of value to another man’s family name. That had never been you. You were an adventurer through and through, intent on following your heart wherever it called for you to go. And thus, it had led you to the pirate’s life. 

“Hello?” you asked again, calling out to the darkened waves. 

The figure turned and looked at you. His eyes sparkled in the darkness, the colour of aquamarine; his long, wavy hair had a small circlet of silver resting upon it. As he looked at you, he smiled, his singing stopping. You could not deny that his face was as beautiful as his singing. 

“Good evening,” the figure said. You noticed now that the ship had come to a complete stop and you were no more than a few feet away from the man. However, you noticed that he was not entirely a man. Where his legs should have been was a long, dark blue tail. All over the tail were silver scales which shone in the moonlight. Everything about him took your breath away. 

“You’re one of the Merpeople,” you whispered. “I thought you were but a legend.” 

“Most seem to think so,” he replied. His tail twitched slightly and he held his hand out to you, beckoning you to the sea. It was as if magic had descended upon you and you lost control of your body; you stood up and began to lift your leg over the side of the ship, ready to succumb to his call. “I’ve been waiting for you...” 

His voice was like your polar opposite, magnets charged and pulling towards each other. “Come to me....” 

Suddenly you stopped and shook your head. The strength of your control was too much and the magic which was surrounding you melted. “You’re nothing but a siren,” you hissed. “Calling me to my doom.” 

The merman’s face began to contort to one of anger. “I am nothing of the sort,” he replied. “I am Thorin, the rightful king of the undersea kingdom of Erebor. I seek help to re-gain my home from the clutches of Smaug.” 

“And what can I do? I’m a pirate Captain,” you replied. 

“One of the most famous of all the seas. Your name has ventured far and wide among my people.” 

A sudden jolt hit you and you found yourself waking. The sea was calm, Admiral was still preening and the lookouts were arguing over one being a cheat. There was nothing out upon the sea; the rock had disappeared, along with Thorin. With a shrug of your shoulders, you got up and walked steadily towards your main cabin. Something was niggling you in the back of your mind, something you needed to try and sort into some kind of semblance. 

On your bookcase, you picked up a letter bound book of sea life folklore and began to sift through the pages. A distant memory was poking at you, and you continued flicking slowly, the pages only illuminated by dim candlelight. 

You gasped. There, drawn in ink, was an image of the underwater kingdom of Erebor. Carved in stone with the heads of kings surrounding the doorway. Then you noticed something that made your blood turn to ice. 

The would-be Mer-King, Thorin II, searches endlessly for his Queen, said to be a great name of the seas. He longs for her, singing at night, beckoning her down into the abyss with his melody of Erebor’s history. Legend has it that once she allows his voice to take her, she will transform into her true self, the most beautiful mermaid the world has ever known. But she is a woman of great strength, fighting off his advances and calls. 

[fullmetalscullyy]

the way it was - chapter 33

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1914

i hear babies cry, i watch them grow

they'll learn much more than i'll never know

and i think to myself

what a wonderful world

There was nothing Roy wanted more than to collapse into his soft, warm bed, with his wife in his arms, and sleep his troubles away. His footsteps were heavy as he climbed the steps, his fatigued muscles quivering as if he was climbing up a mountain, rather than a staircase. He couldn’t wait to shut off his mind and stop thinking about the military and his grand plans and contingency plans for a couple of hours. It would be bliss.

It was his nightly ritual to stop outside Mia’s bedroom door and take a peek inside. The massive hulking bear she’d received for her birthday startled him, just like it did every time he poked his head into the room at night. Mia was sound asleep, cuddled into Mr. Brown the Bear. Her face was half hidden in his worn fur as Roy watched on, waiting to confirm that her chest was rising and falling with her breath. Once satisfied she was breathing normally he closed the door behind him.

He was silent stepping into his own bedroom. The creaking hinge did not betray him and Roy moved smoothly as he crept inside. Roy took quiet and careful steps into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Adrenaline on high, he let out a breath of relief after his successful voyage past the two sleeping forms.

Maes was a little terror. He slept for most of the day and woke up to fuss through the night. He gurgled for food but hardly took any when Riza offered. Having a clingy baby was wearing on them both. Whenever Riza got up through the night, Roy did too. They both woke to Maes’ single anguished cry at the same time, Riza up and out the bed before him to see what their son needed. The boy was completely nocturnal and was slowly turning his mother that way too. They’d quickly learned that she had to sleep when he did in order for Riza to get some kind of rest, but even then, Maes slept an hour and was up, slept three then woke for another feed. It was exhausting.

Roy had suggested the idea of moving Maes onto bottled milk so he could at least help out a little. That hadn’t gone down well at first. Riza was adamant and insisted they didn’t need it yet. However, she was wearing thin. Getting no restful sleep and shouldering all of the responsibility of Maes on her shoulders was getting to her. It was clear as day. Roy felt guilty. It had only been a week or so after Mia was born that he returned from Ishval. In the beginning, Riza was probably used to being the only one who looked after their new-born. But he was here now, and wanted to extend his help. Pushing too much would cause an argument, however, and that would just pile on more stress for Riza. Roy didn’t want that. He was struggling, seeing symptoms of postnatal depression settling in, but unable to help or ease her pain.

Stepping out into the bedroom, Roy noticed Riza was turned towards him. Her hair had been tied up in a bun to keep it out of the way, but now stuck out all over the place as it rubbed over her pillow in her sleep. Roy wondered if her stress throughout the day had anything to do with that too. Dark circles were present underneath her eyes, one hidden from view because it was buried into her pillow. She looked exhausted even when she was asleep.

Sliding in beside her, Roy stared down at his wife. A strand of hair had fallen against her cheek. Noticing how greasy it looked, Roy pushed it gently aside and vowed that tomorrow he would pry Maes from her as soon as he could, leaving her free to go and have a long, relaxing bath. It was his day off so he was going to bond with his son. A smile spread across his face. Roy couldn’t wait.

Peeking over Riza’s shoulder, Roy checked on Maes. He was sound asleep as he lay on his back. One arm was up by his head, his tiny fingers clenched into a tight fist. His little legs kicked out in his swaddle and he let out a small noise. Roy froze.

Don’t you dare wake up, kid, he warned inside his head. Holding his breath, Roy waited, but Maes settled and was quiet.

His whole body sagged in relief.

But it was short lived. Roy closed his eyes, feeling his exhaustion already carrying him off to sleep, when a sharp cry sounded from the crib.

Riza’s eyes popped open without hesitation and she rolled away from Roy immediately.

“I’ve got it –”

She didn’t even hear Roy speak. Riza continued moving forward to pick up Maes. Her shoulders were drooping, her speech slurred with sleep as she cooed at him gently, practically begging him to calm himself and sleep.

“Riza –”

She started to walk out the room to Maes’ nursery, either oblivious to him or just too tired to focus on anything else.

Stepping in her path was the only thing Roy could think of to get her to listen and notice him. Riza jumped in fright right before she walked into him. Slowly, Roy placed two hands on her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze to try and bring her back to him.

“I’ll take Maes,” he offered quietly.

“But –”

“Riza, please. Let me see to him. You can go back to sleep.”

“If he’s hungry –”

“I will come back and get you I promise,” Roy vowed, soothing her. “But you’re tired. I can go and find out what he needs.”

Maes was handed off to him as Riza trudged back to bed still looking half asleep. Roy chuckled as she flopped down, cuddling back into her pillow.

“Looks like it's you and me tonight, Maes,” Roy whispered. He placed a kiss upon his son’s forehead as he slipped out the room. The creaking hinge was back and surprised Maes with the sudden noise. Roy felt him jump in his arms.

“Sorry, buddy,” Roy whispered while Maes let out a disgruntled sound.

Stepping into the nursery he could easily make his way around Mia’s old bed without kicking it. They’d stored it there because the nursery was large enough to have a single bed in it as well as everything they needed to care for Maes. Since it had been Mia’s old one, the springs were broken after she’d jumped on it too many times, but it was still a bed. It was still warm and comfortable.

Moonlight bathed the nursery in a silver glow and Roy was half tempted to leave the light off and enjoy the atmosphere, but he needed to see what he was doing. Especially if he was changing Maes. One time he’d forgotten to arrange his nappy properly – “frills on the outside!” Riza always reminded him – and he urinated over Roy, leaking through his nappy. Riza found this hilarious but Roy didn’t mind too much. It was the most he’d heard her laugh since Maes was born.

“You’ve been giving Mummy a bit of a hard time,” Roy cooed, brushing Maes cheek with his finger. “But we still love you very much, Maes. So we’re going to have to work on that a little bit. I need to be better too,” he added, “Mummy always said I slept like a log and not much could wake me through the night but I want to be awake for you.”

Maes was laid down on the changing table. He yawned and blinked his dark eyes awake, staring up at his father. Roy placed both hands on either side of his son, leaning over him so he could marvel at every movement. His hair had looked black when he was first born but it was taking on a lighter tone as the weeks progressed. It was starting to look brown and Roy hoped it would continue on that trend or turn blonde. It almost matched the colour of his eyes. They were a deep chocolate shade, taking more after his mother than him. Roy grinned down at him.

Maes blinked once before his head cocked to the side. As time dragged on, Maes’ face scrunched up in discomfort.

“Okay, Maes. Let’s see if you need changed.”

He did. Triumphantly, Roy changed his son and eased him into his chest once it was over. Patting his back gently, Roy bounced Maes from side to side and prayed that would calm him enough to get him back to sleep.

Maes did fall asleep. He was sound in Roy’s arms, his tiny head resting against Roy’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Roy celebrated with a quiet laugh.

Pausing at the door, Roy had a thought. He almost returned to his own bedroom when he spied the bed out the corner of his eye again. It would be perfect for the thought that just occurred to him.

Grinning, Roy walked down the stairs to their darkened living room to ease Maes in his portable sleep basket. Having it meant they could transport Maes around the house easily and keep him in the same room as them while he slept. Roy carried it back up to the nursery and placed it by the side of the old bed.

The sheets smelled slightly musty after not being stirred for a long time. Roy wrinkled his nose as he climbed in and made a mental note to change and wash them in the morning.

This way, if Maes woke up again, it would let Riza sleep in peace.

Roy fell asleep with a smile on his face, proud of his idea. He was just so clever.

*          *          *

Dawn light filtered into the room, stirring Roy awake. He’d forgotten to close the curtains during the night, but that was okay. It was still the most rested he’d felt in a long time.

As he settled back into the pillows, opting to try falling back asleep, he heard the door open slowly. Riza peeked inside, her hair piled back up on top of her head, but much neater this time. Her eyes were wide as she searched for them both, expression softening when she and Roy made eye contact.

“Morning,” he whispered, sleep clouding his voice. Clearing his throat, Roy’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Good morning.”

Her voice was bright and cheery. It made him crack his eyes open again to observe her. He hadn’t heard her talk like that in a long time. Getting more sleep last night had been good for her.

The door closed behind Riza quietly and she leaned against the wall beside it to watch Roy wake up. “Did you steal our child away from me?” She was joking, a smile spreading across her face as she crossed her arms, waiting on his answer.

“I did,” Roy admitted, “because you need more sleep.”

“So do you,” she countered lightly. “You’ve been up the same amount as me.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been doing most of the work,” Roy yawned quietly, careful of waking Maes. He’d slept for – Roy craned his neck up to check the clock on the wall – six hours.

“Did he get up again?” Her arms uncrossed as she pushed off the wall and walked towards Maes’ sleep basket.

“No. Six hours,” Roy announced with a chuckle. “That’s some kind of record for him.” Another yawn left Roy as he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

“I’m not, but I can’t help but feel proud of him,” he grinned sleepily.

Riza gazed down at Maes, smiling. When she was looking at him, not much could tear her attention away. Roy could sympathise. Often, when she did stare, Roy would watch her instead. He noted the way her face softened completely with her love. The muscles of her face relaxed and a sigh of content passed over her lips.

The sleepless nights and the fatigue were worth it. It always would be for their children.

“I could stare at him forever,” she murmured quietly, running her fingers gently through Maes hair. It was so long but wispy, holding no real substance to it. Most of the time it stood on end from static, despite their best efforts to smooth it down for the kid. “This was a good idea, though,” Riza nodded towards the bed. For a brief second she wobbled on her legs, catching herself on the edge of the sleep basket.

Roy’s hand extended towards her, palm up, with a silent offering. Riza took it, expecting him to help her stand, but Roy tugged her over to him instead as she laughed quietly. Riza fell into his lap. Her legs hooked over the side of his so her cheek was in front of him. He couldn’t resist placing a kiss upon it.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still tired,” Riza admitted, resting her temple against his forehead gently as they both looked down at Maes. “But, I do feel more rested than I have in weeks.”

“You can go back to bed if you like?”

Her head shook negative. “He’ll want to be fed and Mia –”

“I can keep an eye on them,” Roy interrupted softly. “Go back to bed.”

“I won’t be able to sleep,” she sighed.

“Try it,” he offered casually.

Her head lifted, shooting him a sideways glance. “Is this your plan to get me to rest more?”

“You deserve it,” Roy countered. “You carried Maes for nine months and birthed him. I think it’s time I stepped up to the plate.”

Riza chuckled, patting his cheek. However, her hand lingered, turning his head so they were directly facing one another.

“First you steal my son away from me, and now you’re pushing me away from seeing him?” Her smile was wide, eyes twinkling with amusement and mischief. Oh, how he had missed that look on her. So much.

“Never.” His answer was absolute before he pressed a firm kiss to her lips, looping his arms around her hips to give them a tight squeeze. “I just want you to take care of yourself too,” he reasoned.

“I am,” she assured.

Roy’s eyebrows almost lifted to his hairline, making her huff in mock annoyance.

“It’s not been that bad,” she replied, but grimaced at her poor lie.

“It has been,” Roy corrected.

“Yeah, it has,” she replied glumly. It held a lot more sadness than Roy was expecting, causing concern to flourish slowly inside his heart.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…” A deep sigh left Riza, her chin dipping as her temple rested back against his forehead once more.

“What?” He squeezed her hips, prompting her to continue.

“I didn’t expect it to be so hard. Mia wasn’t this bad and…” A deep sigh left her. “I guess I feel guilty for thinking about taking a break. They’re my kids and I don’t want to need a break from them.”

“I know.”

“I need sleep. I know I do. But…”

“How about you feed Maes,” Roy offered hesitantly, his brain whirring to try and find a compromise she’d agree to, “while I wake Mia up and get her ready. She’s going to my mother’s today so it will just be the three of us. I can do some bonding with Maes while you go for a nap?”

A tired smile was thrown his way and Roy counted that as a success.

“Thank you,” she breathed. Her eyes closed with relief.

“Anything for you. You know that,” he whispered against her temple, kissing her there. “And anything for them.”

Glancing down, the two parents watched Maes begin to stir.

“He’s so tiny.”

“I know, I can’t believe it,” Riza giggled. “Hard to think Mia was this size too once.”

“That felt like just last year, never mind six years ago.”

Riza nodded, sliding off his lap. She crouched to pick up Maes.

In that moment, Roy had never seen a more endearing sight. Riza pressed her lips to Maes’ forehead. She held him close against her chest, rocking him from side to side.

“What?”

He’d been caught staring, but Roy just grinned. “I’m just thinking about how beautiful you look.”

Riza snorted gently. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

A pleased smile tugged at her lips but Riza fought it. However, it did spread, and she let out a light laugh as she shook her head fondly at him. “You’re biased.”

“Me? Never,” he exclaimed, rising from the bed. Roy’s hand found his son’s head and he pressed a kiss to it. “I’ll hop in the shower then see if Mia is awake.”

“Take your time,” Riza replied distractedly, her full attention back on Maes.

He grinned as he left the room, catching the serenity and love filling her expression as she rocked Maes.

“Morning Daddy,” Mia greeted sleepily.

“Morning, Mia Bear.” Roy perched on the edge of her bed, stooping to press a kiss to her forehead. It made her giggle and squirm away from him. “How do you feel today?”

“A little sleepy but I’m excited!” Her face lit up, her mouth forming a wide smile.

“Yeah? And why is that?” Roy folded down the sheet, giving her a chance to slip out from underneath.

“I get to go and see Grandma today!”

“She’s as excited about it as you are.”

“Really?” Mia latched onto Roy’s hand as they walked towards her wardrobe. It was only five steps or so but she still clung to him.

“She is,” he confirmed. “It’s been a little while since you’ve both gone on a day out together.”

“Yeah… It has.”

Roy was immediately on alert. He picked out the hint of sadness in Mia’s voice and the way she trailed off. He crouched, turning Mia to face him. His eyes narrowed playfully, but his stomach twisted. He’d caught the forlorn look on her face before it turned into a giggle.

“What?” At least her sadness had disappeared, but Roy hadn’t wanted to see it in the first place. He wondered if his suddenly formed hypothesis was correct…

“What was that long face for?” He reached forward and ‘caught’ her nose in between his thumb and forefinger, pretending to wiggle it gently before letting go.

“What long face?” Her reply was so innocent that Roy wondered if he’d imagined it for a second, but there had definitely been something there.

“You sounded and looked sad for a second.”

Mia’s smile fell.

“Is everything all right?”

Mia’s chin tucked into her chest slowly as she looked down at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Roy prompted her gently as he made himself more comfortable in his crouch. He waited patiently for her answer, giving her all the time she needed.

“It’s nothing. But it has been a little while since we’ve done something cool and fun together.” Her admission was so quiet as she toed at the carpet nervously beneath them.

Mia was feeling left out. The realisation hit Roy like a truck, and he could see why she would feel that way. Maes took all of their attention recently and while they desperately tried to find a balance, it hadn’t been enough. They hadn’t been good enough for her.

His arms opened and Mia stepped into them eagerly. Her small hands clutched at his t-shirt, hanging onto it.

“Mummy and I love you so much, Mia Bear,” Roy promised, giving her a squeeze. “Believe me, we really do. And we’re so sorry you’ve been feeling left out.”

“It’s okay, Daddy.”

She takes after Riza far too much.

“No,” Roy shook his head as he pulled away from her, “it’s not. It’s made you sad and that’s not okay. Maes is only little so he needs a lot more attention from us, okay? He’s a fussy baby,” Roy added with a tired smile, “and keeps us up all night.”

“He does?” Mia’s eyes widened in surprise.

“He does. So we’ve been really tired, but that’s not an excuse. We didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”

“I haven’t heard him at night.”

“Good,” Roy commented, ruffling her fringe. “He doesn’t need to keep you up too.”

Face screwing up in irritation, Mia reached up with two hands to smooth out her fringe while Roy just laughed at her reaction.

“It might take a little while for everything to go back to the way it was before Maes was born, but it will, I promise. He’ll get older and things will get easier. You’ve been a very big girl throughout it all though.” She had. This was the first time he was hearing of any jealousy or her feeling left out compared to her sibling. “And we’re so proud of you. If you feel that way again, can you please tell me or Mummy?”

“I will,” Mia nodded confidently. Her arms were thrown around his neck tightly, almost knocking him over with the force of it. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Any time, Mia Bear. And thank you for being so understanding.”

“Anything for my baby brother,” she grinned happily.

She skipped up to her wardrobe doors, pulling them open wide while Roy rose from his crouch. He felt so proud of how understanding and caring she was, however, they needed to do better by her too.

He’d call his mother while Mia was eating breakfast and ask Chris to spoil his little girl today. Not that that wouldn’t happen already, though, but he’d ask Chris to take her to the toy shop to buy whatever she wanted on him.