#he made a beeline for the scent every single time

[thelittlespanielthatcould]

I'm sure it'll surprise nobody to learn that Kovu is just as good at scentwork as he is at everything else

[colonelarr0w]

DENJI who knows from the moment that he laid eyes on you that he wanted to be yours. He didn’t want you to be his, oh no, that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to be at your every beck and call — any time that you needed something, he wanted to be the one that you turned to.  

He doesn’t care how simple the task or how stupid the question, he just wants you to look for him. He wants your eyes to fall on him and for your hand to extend in his direction. He wants to be the one you look for in a crowd, he wants to be the one who carries your shopping bags, he wants to be the one who lays his jacket down on every single puddle. He wants you to call him ‘yours’. 

“Shit,” you murmur, placing your hands on your hips and glaring up at the offending pack of chips — which sits on a shelf just barely out of your reach.  

Huffing, you push yourself onto your tiptoe, hand extended towards your desired snack. As if to taunt you, the tips of your fingers brush against the outside of the chip bag.  

Just as you give up, a familiar orange-haired boy slides into the kitchen, lips pulled back in that adorable fanged smile. “Oh, hey (Y/N)!” 

You turn, nearly losing your balance as you glance at Denji, who only smiles in response. His eyes flicker between you and the too-high shelf that prevents you from enjoying a mid-afternoon snack.  

“Hey Denji,” you reply, smiling at him as you turn away from the open cabinet.  

Denji notices your flickering gaze, following it and humming at the bag of chips in the cabinet. He smiles, then returning his focus to you.  

Without saying a word, Denji steps past you, his shoulder brushing affectionately against your own as he easily plucks the bag of chips from the shelf. He offers it to you, heart warming at your immediate smile.  

“Thanks Denji!” you bubble happily, hugging around his arm and placing a thankful kiss against his cheek.  

He smiles, practically purring at the affection.  

DENJI who greets you as if you had been separated for years. The moment that patrol ends and he’s able to return to Aki’s apartment — where he knows you’ll be — he’s sprinting with a speed that not even he knew that he possessed. He doesn’t care to see if Power is behind him, his sole focus being the fact that he was returning home to you.  

The moment that he steps through the door, Denji’s eyes are darting around the apartment for you. He accidentally slams the door in Power’s face, beelining for you in the living room and promptly hugging you like he was your husband returning home from war.  

“Denji—!” Power’s voice is cut off by the slamming of the apartment door, her angered groan falling on deaf ears as Denji excitedly enters the apartment.  

He looks around quickly, heart pounding in his ears as his eyes search for you — finding you in the kitchen snacking on the leftovers from the dinner that Aki had made the previous night. He beelines for you, arms locking around your waist and the entirety of his body weight pushing against your own.  

“Denji!” you exclaim, wobbling on your feet and nearly choking on the forkful of food that you had been ingesting. He ignores you, burying his head into the junction that connects your collarbone and shoulder, lightly biting down and smiling as you yelp again. You can feel the curl of his smile against your skin, and suddenly you weren’t as angry with him. 

“Missed you,” he murmurs, voice muffled from where his face is pressed impossibly closer against you, his nose practically inhaling your scent and committing it to the deepest depths of his memory. 

You smile to yourself, lifting a hand and threading your fingers into Denji’s hair, nails raking lightly over his scalp. He curls further into you — if that was even possible — placing a chaste kiss against your neck (as if he hadn’t just bitten you there).  

“Yeah,” you agree, leaning back into his arms and allowing your eyes to momentarily close, “I missed you too.” 

DENJI who treats you as his own personal pillow and may (WILL) suffocate you when it’s time to go to sleep. He can’t help it! He hugs you to his chest just as you’re both dozing off, your head tucked comfortably underneath his chin with your own arms wound loosely around his midsection. His nose is buried in your hair, inhaling that oh-so-familiar scent of your shampoo — it was so distinctly you.   

But somehow, in the ungodly hours of the morning, you’re suddenly confused as to why it’s so hard to breathe. Denji, somehow, had rolled completely on top of you. His nose is buried into the crook of your neck, mouth hanging open as loud — and borderline obnoxious — snores fill the otherwise quiet bedroom. His arms are still locked around you like iron, but this time, you genuinely don’t know if they’re going to be the weapons that kill you. 

Your eyes shoot open at the terrifying feeling of not being able to breathe, widened irises flickering around the room until you’re suddenly aware of why you can’t breathe— 

“Denji,” you whisper urgently, desperately shaking the figure that lays on top of you. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning out over the skin of your neck. He mumbles something incoherent, only snuggling further into you and pressing more of his weight down onto you.  

In any other situation, you would have ‘awed’ at him and lovingly pinched his cheek. 

But right now you were a little more focused on remaining conscious.  

“Denji,” you say again, louder this time. You try your hardest to shove him off of you, but even in sleep, he fights against you, wanting to practically be melded to you. He grumbles sleepily, and you could only pray that he chokes on his own spit so that he would wake up. 

Your hands brace against his side, trying one last time to push him off of you. Denji’s nose scrunches adorably, a snore getting caught in his throat as his grip tightens impossibly further over you. You groan lightly, sighing through your nose.  

“Denji, come on,” you murmur, screwing your eyes shut and giving Denji’s limp body one more shove. Denji grunts, finally opening his eyes and turning to you with a tired glint to his eyes, sleepily blinking at you.  

“Wha—?” Denji hums, smacking his lips together and blinking away the last bits of exhaustion from his eyes. He rolls off of you, resulting in you greedily inhaling. Denji only stares curiously at you, now wide awake and wondering why you were breathing so heavily.  

“You were squishing me,” you say simply, sitting up and glancing at Denji, who is quick to sit up beside you. He pouts, jutting out his bottom lip as he stares at you, guilt swimming in his eyes. “It’s okay, you do it every night.” 

“I do?!” 

DENJI who always has to have a hand on you when you’re out and about — even if it’s while the two of you are paired together for patrol. Most of the time, Denji’s fingers are locked together with your own, his thumb sometimes brushing over the backs of your knuckles (mainly because Aki mentioned ONCE that it was a romantic gesture). It’s sweet…when you’re not working obviously.  

Standing in line results in the both of you receiving glances from those that surround you, some of them looks of jealousy, but the majority of them are those disgusted glances usually thrown at the PDA obsessed couples in amusement park lines. Does Denji care about those glances? Oh, absolutely not, he could care so much less. He loves you! So why would he sit back and not show you that he absolutely loves and adores you? 

“Hey Denji? I can’t really fight this Devil with one hand,” you comment offhandedly, glancing down at Denji’s fingers that were so tightly interlocked with your own — you honestly don’t know if he has any plans of genuinely letting go. He glances down at the Devil in question, acknowledging its existence before turning with a lovesick smile back to you.  

“I’m sure you can,” he responds, figurative tail wagging as you roll your eyes. You squeeze his fingers three times, a silent way of you saying ‘I love you” — a little something that you had both established somewhere near the beginning of your relationship. Denji’s smile impossibly widens, his fingers returning your affectionate squeeze.  

“Two seconds, count it,” you say with a smile, leaning forward on the tips of your toes and pressing a fleeting kiss to Denji’s cheek. He all but purrs at you, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before he (reluctantly) lets you deal with the Devil that you had been sent out to exterminate.  

DENJI who texts you so many times throughout the day that you have to silence your phone at the beginning of your shifts at work. Otherwise your phone would be buzzing every three seconds with a new message from Denji, be it a random selfie of him and Power or a pinecone that he claims “looks like you!” Sometimes his messages don’t even make sense, but that can be blamed on Denji’s inability to type properly — considering that he had never had a cell phone before. 

Snuck between those fun messages are genuine heartfelt texts that make your heart melt when you scroll back to reread them. Every morning the first message that pings on your phone is from Denji, telling you to make sure that you eat something and that he would see you later on patrol. And the last message that you see every night is Denji telling you sweet dreams and that he would see you in the morning.  

“Is that your phone again?” Aki asks with a raise of his eyebrow, taking a drag of the cigarette between his lips before blowing the smoke out in a small gray cloud in front of him. You pause, tilting your head before becoming aware of the constant vibration against your thigh.  

You dip your fingers into your pocket, taking out your cellphone and looking down at the 34 messages sent to you by Denji. You bite back the smile that threatens to curl the corner of your lips upward, scrolling through the various texts of ‘Miss you!’ and ‘Tell Aki that we’re out of cereal’.  

“Sorry, it’s Denji,” you murmur, remembering that you and Aki were currently on patrol, “I’ll silence it.” 

Aki nods, flicking away his cigarette and turning away from you. You heart a few of Denji’s messages, smiling down at the illuminated screen before silencing your phone and jogging to keep up with Aki. 

DENJI who enjoys having late night conversations with you — talking about whatever it is that you want. Sometimes you both have deep conversations with one another, revealing parts of your past and in turn learning a little bit more about Denji. Or sometimes you have silly ‘what if’ conversations, where you’ve learned that, yes, Denji would love you if you were a worm, Denji would be able to identify your pussy in a room full of others, and Denji would happily lay over a puddle so that your shoes wouldn’t get wet.  

He likes to ramble, he likes to get stuck on one topic and just pour his heart out about whatever it may be. Denji also just loves the sound of your voice, listening to you ramble about topics that you’re passionate about or listening to stories from your childhood. He’ll keep his eyes on you the entire time that you’re speaking, his chin leaned into the palm of his hand as you continue speaking. If you quiet down for even a second, he prompts you to continue with a chipper “And then what happened?” 

“You tired?” Denji asks, eyes fixed on the ceiling and watching as the small fan spins in seemingly endless circles, giving the room a small breeze that momentarily cancels out the warmth that radiates from the outside.  

You shake your head, hair tickling Denji’s shoulder. Your leg is hiked up over his own with your arms wound loosely over his midsection. “No, not really,” you murmur, suddenly aware of just how awake you truly are.  

It was odd, considering that patrol lasted much longer today and Makima had quite a few words to say to you and Denji before you left the offices for the day. You thought that by the time you had finished up dinner with Aki that you would be completely exhausted — and yet you weren’t. 

“What was your life before being a Devil Hunter like?” Denji asks, rubbing a thumb up and down your side. You hum, closing your eyes for a moment and simply remembering; remembering blurry figures of people that you may or may not have loved and muddled memories of a time that you may or may not have enjoyed.  

“I dunno actually, I don’t really remember it,” you reply with a small shrug, shuffling your body closer to Denji’s and letting out a sigh, your breath fanning over his neck. He ignores the shiver that crawls up his spine at the sensation, momentarily tightening his arms around you, his cheek resting against the top of your head.  

“Well…what do you remember?” Denji inquires. You smile to yourself, knowing what it was that Denji wanted — he just wanted to hear you talk. Humming to yourself, you tilt your head up, pressing a kiss to the underside of Denji’s jaw. 

“There is one thing, I had a best friend growing up,” you begin, squeezing Denji’s waist and smiling as he returns it, excitedly listening and waiting for you to tell him the tale from your childhood.  

DENJI who just loves and adores you more than anything. The moment that he becomes yours, the moment that you become his, he’s completely devoted to you and to you only. To him, you’re the one person that’s worth sticking around for, the one person worth protecting from Devils. In a way, Denji is just glad to have someone that doesn’t look at him like he’s a freak — as he’s used to eyes widening in disgust and lips curling back to spit out venomous insults.  

But then Denji met you; you with the warmth in your eyes and the glitter to your smile. You with the kind words and tight hugs that were warmer than any summer’s day. You with the kisses that managed to steal his breath every single time and you with the ability to make the gloomiest days bright.  

Denji is so happy to have you in his life, and every day he manages to convey that love and adoration to you. And the moment that you reciprocate it, Denji falls harder and harder.  

My first time writing for Chainsaw Man and Denji, go easy on me.

[02chois]

MISSED YOUR TOUCH

pairing: ex-boyfriend! soobin x fem! reader

summary: bumping into your ex was the last thing you had expected today. but you never would have thought that encounter will bring you back together stronger than ever.

word count: 3.2k words

content warnings: porn with (little) plot, profanity, big dick soobin, light size kink, soft dom! soobin, sub! reader, usage of pet names like sweetheart and princess, inaccurate way of knitting (I tried making it realistic ok)

author's note: my entry into the smut section of moaland in this site. I tried my best I hope you like it <3

Snow.

Snow danced in the light, a choreographed ballet conducted by the gentle wind. As you watched your eyes grew a tiny bit wider, as open as when you were but a child who saw snow for the first time.

You shoved your mittened hands into the pockets of your coat and continued walking, bright eyes wandered around the street. You watched as snow slowly fell upon the park bench as if it were a feather cushion, soft and warm. It covers the rich, deep wood in perfect white.

The market turned out to be filled with people shopping for gifts and trinkets to decorate their homes with. You hadn't expected it to be this crowded early in the morning—well, early in the afternoon. You made a beeline to the store between familiar fruit stands. The crunching of snow underneath your feet filled your ears as you walked, hurriedly opening the mahogany door and soon greeted by a wind chime hanging on top as you stepped inside.

Your shoulders relaxed, the warmth enveloping your trembling body. It was such a relief that the quaint shop has a fireplace near the registrar and it was enough to warm up the entire place.

You brushed the excess snow caught on your coat right before you made your way to one of the aisles. You searched the label for the basket with yarn written across it, then your gaze darted from one to the next. But to no avail you couldn't find it no matter how much you looked around.

You went to another aisle and at that moment you froze. Your eyes landed upon a familiar blond haired man, his tall frame towering over a small basket filled with colorful yarn.

"Soobin…?"

You were about to turn on your heel when the wooden floorboard squeaked beneath your feet, you looked up only to be met by those eyes of his. His lips slightly ajar from shock.

You locked eyes for a moment and stood there in silence. The faint sound of the crackling fire from the fireplace filled the room.

Soobin's gaze lingered on your face as if he were trying to memorize every single detail. You could feel the heat rising up to your cheeks right under his scrutiny. Why does he have to stare so intensely?

"Um… do you—do you need any help?" You spoke up, your voice soft and could be mistaken as a whisper. "What are you looking for?"

You were sure that your stutter had vanished long ago, yet you found yourself stuttering in front of your ex-boyfriend. He changed. A lot actually. You share the same friend group and because of that you often see each other whenever they gather in one place after your break up, but oftentimes, you'd only greet each other with a polite bow, or on rare occasions give each other a polite smile. Aside from those greetings they've barely spoken to each other as the two of you try and avoid the awkward situations between exes.

He gave you a small smile then turned his head to the basket, his right hand holding a small ball of yarn. "I can't find a specific yarn."

You stepped forward and kneeled on the wooden floor right in front of the basket. You looked up and gestured to him, he responded by lowering himself alongside you. He was so close he could smell the scent of your hair products. Peaches. He used to really love this scent.

"The one you have seemed to be used already." You held up a larger red ball of yarn like an offering. "This will be better to use rather than what you have right now. It will allow you to create longer scarves or…"

You cleared your throat and Soobin watched as you handed him the yarn. You caught his eyes and averted your gaze. "I'm sorry. I'm talking too much."

Soobin placed the smaller yarn with the others and shook his head. "Don't be! I'd like to learn more."

He was being a little too polite. You're not used to the way he spoke so formally towards you, mostly compared to those times when he teased you. You couldn't help but smile at the thought. You missed him a lot.

From your kneeling position, you gently rose to your feet and turned to face the other shelf that had knitting needles. They vary in sizes, types of wood, and some are separated to a different group of knitting pins. Personally, you prefer the wooden pins.

"You'll need a pair of knitting pins for you to start. What size would you like to have?" You turned to him with a pair in hand, showing him the same pins you had at home.

"What do you recommend?"

His question was short and sweet. You purse your lips into a pout, your eyes trailed down to the pair of pins you had in hand. If you don't know what he's planning to knit, you wouldn't know what size would be a good fit for him.

"Ah, Soobin, what will you be knitting? The size of the needles affects the length of the stitches and thus your finished product. It's important to think hard about the needles you'll be getting."

Soobin remained silent for a short while before turning his gaze away to think. You watched him with great curiosity. What will my beloved make? You wondered. Wait… beloved?

"A scarf sounds like it would be the easiest." He said, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time to observe how you react. He determined that his suggestion was a suitable garment to make when he noticed how your eyes softened.

Before turning your attention back to the shelf in front, you nodded and gave him a small smile. "Scarves are the perfect first knitting projects for a beginner. They're easy to make and do not require any difficult stitching techniques."

"I'm still a beginner. What do you suggest we do?" Soobin finally asked, implying something from his choice of words.

You mulled over his words. "Well… I can offer you my assistance in knitting. It's difficult to start without any guidance."

"That'll be lovely."

You smiled and followed him to the counter.

You opened the door and stood aside to let him in, the kitchen welcomed him immediately as soon as he stepped inside. A small potted plant sat on the island countertop along with several herbs and spices, some condiments stored with them, and a bowl of fresh fruit at the side. Other plants were tucked in different places. On your hanging pot holder, you hung only about two utensils, the rest were ropes of garlic and bean sprouts in small plastic bags. Your refrigerator contained three small magnets; a sunflower, basket, and rice cakes. Soobin felt at home and he was glad to be back.

He stood there while you closed the door, then removed your winter boots and set them aside in the shoe rack. As you led him inside a large window that sat across the small living room greeted him, and there a single sunflower faced the sun. A small round table was right next to the window accompanied by cushioned chairs that sat across from each other. The scattered knitting supplies on the table drew his attention, there an unfinished red scarf laid there. The stitches were clean, professional, and clearly the work of skilled hands.

He slid beneath the thick cover of the table, exhaling a sigh of relief as the heater stopped the chill from trying to run up his spine.

"I'll prepare some warm drinks."

"Thank you." Soobin murmured.

Your lips quirked at his words. You went to one of the cupboards to pull out a jar of hot chocolate powder, it was half empty. You took a mental note to restock soon. You fill the mugs with hot water and the powder before setting it in front of Soobin and your other end of the table. You placed your unfinished scarf and the knitting materials on top of the table and motioned for Soobin to do the same.

Soobin watched you. He fixed his gaze on your hands, trying to mimic the way she handled the knitting needles. His left hand was tense as he moved, his brows furrowed, and his lips formed a deep frown. His fingers carefully applied enough pressure to the needles to allow him to hold it with ease. Curious to see how you would react, he looked up from his hands.

You were watching his every move. You gave him a small nod in approval as you felt his gaze on you.

"Good. That's a nice start."

He smiled at your words and, using the only knitting procedure he was familiar with, tied a knot with the yarn around the end of his needle.

You followed suit by enclosing your fingers around the yarn and wrapping it around your thumb. You looked at his work to decide whether or not to continue, slipped the tip of the needle into the loop you had created, and drew the yarn back to firmly fasten it. Although his left hand had some difficulty with the delicate yet complex movements, he was a fast learner. He's stubborn enough to overlook his left hand acting up, which is a relief to you. Though had you ever questioned him about his decision to take up knitting?

"Repeat these steps until the scarf is your desired width, and then we'll start casting on so you can start adding length to it."

You turned your attention to his face; his pretty lips formed into a pout and his brows were furrowed. He looked so adorable. Soobin continued, his eyes serious and focused, his fingers moving slowly but meticulously.

No one ventured to strike up a conversation as the room was filled with the subtle humming of the heater and the sound of fabric shuffling as their arms moved. You didn't feel the need to initiate any conversations with him, which is something Soobin appreciated because he preferred to keep to himself over awkward exchanges.

You put the example aside to continue knitting the red scarf you had put away for so long. Lately, you hadn't felt like continuing the scarf. While you neglected the scarf, the same thought plagued her mind, but Yeonjun's advice this morning gave you a little motivation to carry on. You just so happened to meet Soobin at the store, but it was only now that you realized you had forgotten to purchase a second ball of yarn because of your sudden encounter with your ex-boyfriend. You'll try to visit again tomorrow.

Your mind began to drift. You have doubts that he'd return your feelings. The last time Soobin spoke to you was a year ago and the fact that he was back definitely surprised you. If you knew what he would say, why did you make this scarf in the first place? It was only a bridge you will use to start a conversation and hope that Soobin will entertain the idea of getting back together. But the chances of him wanting to be with her again is low.

He might see you as a friend now, yet you still hold onto that small hope that he might see you the way he used to a year ago. Your break up was abrupt, after all.

Why does love have to be so difficult?

You sighed and tightened your grip around the needles. Soobin across from you briefly took a glance at you, pausing what he was doing.

Soobin took the initiative to push your mug after noticing that you were preoccupied with your thoughts. He brought the needles down, the sound of wood hitting wood shook you out of your reverie. You lowered your gaze, your gaze followed the movement of his hand. He carefully pushed the mug in front of her again.

"You should drink."

Soobin appeared to have finished the first section of his work, the width wasn't too wide nor too small. It was the perfect amount of thickness for a scarf. He was waiting for your next instructions.

"Thank you," you murmured.

"I missed you," Soobin suddenly spoke up. "I missed you so much that I still keep our photos even after we parted. I can't forget you and I don't allow myself to do so."

You lowered the mug that you were about to drink into, and so you slowly put it down on the table. You're careful as the drink was still hot and you don't want to get everything onto the blanket. The confusion was visible across your face as you were not sure how to react to his words. It was the thing you were getting worried about a while ago.

"I'm so glad that we ran into that store earlier. I knew that you like knitting and I hoped that I could see you again if I came there, and I did see you. I want us to talk about our relationship and just… just ask if you want us to be—"

"—In a relationship again?" You cut him off.

And this time Soobin remained quiet. He gave you a small nod, and there you saw a glint of hope in his eyes.

"I missed you too."

You're not sure how you ended up on his lap. The conversation was quickly thrown out of the window and you were immediately on him as soon as the both of you had given permission to touch each other. He had his hands all over your body, his voice low as he repeatedly whispered missed you so, so much with his lips latched onto your hot skin.

Soobin pulled away from your neck to look at you, his lips curled into a smile as he let out a breathless laugh. "A year. It's been a year and I want you so bad."

"Can I kiss you?" Soobin asked and you gave him a low yes with the voice you have left. That was all he needed before he leaned forward to kiss you.

He wanted to devour you. A moan threatened to leave his lips at the feeling of those plush lips of yours, trying to press himself more against you that left you whimpering. He wants to feel you more against him, to feel your skin on his and your hands on his body. His free hand gripped your thighs, his nails digging into your jeans clad thighs in desperation. He was trying to get a taste of you as much as he could, enough to make up for the year you've been separated. He could feel your thighs shaking underneath his palms.

When the two of you broke away from the kiss, a string of spit was connecting your lips. You quickly made a quick work of your pants and unzipped them, the soft shade of your panties greeting him. He helped you with your pants as you stood in front of him and pulled them away from you, tossing your pants somewhere around the room. You didn't have the patience to move to your bedroom and the curtains were not opened that wide anyway. No one will see.

He unzipped his own pants and pulled them down to his mid thighs and quickly you sat on his lap and straddled him with your legs on either side of his hips. You had your hands on his shoulders for support and pressed yourself further to his growing bulge. A sight left your lips from the contact, but then his hands got a hold of your hips and began to move you against him, earning a surprised moan from you. He was breathing heavily and he needed more than this right now. But he wants to satisfy you, and so he entertains what you want.

His gaze was focused on the way your hips moved, his bottom lip between his teeth. He moved his hips upwards, amused when you moaned from the friction against your clit. He could feel the wet patch from your panties on his underwear. You're so wet and you haven't even noticed the mess you've made.

He timed his pace with yours, feeling a bit generous for you tonight. "Did you miss me that much, hm?" You leaned down and hid your face in the crook of his neck, shying away from his question. "You're so cute. I miss the way you look whenever you're so desperate for me, and I love the way you make me feel so wanted. Fuck, I love you so much."

He turned his head, his lips close to your ears. "What do you want me to do to you?" His voice was hushed, breathy and lower than usual, and it sent a pleasurable tingle throughout your body. It's been a year since you've taken him, the mere thought of having him inside you had you clenching around nothing. God, he's so big and you're not even sure if he could still fit inside you. And yet you still want to feel his cum inside you, to feel it slide between your thighs, you want him to fuck you and ruin you 'till sundown.

His arms were now around your waist, roughly grinding his hips against yours to get a reaction out of you."I asked you a question, sweetheart." He knew that you loved his lower register so much and he had to take advantage of that weakness.

"Fuck me. Please Soobin." You whined, shifting your hips and felt him thrust his hips against you. The outline of his cock sent you into overdrive, desperate to put it inside you, you brought your hand between your bodies and under his boxers' waistband. He cursed as he felt your cold fingertips wrap around the tip of his cock, slowly spreading the bead of pre-cum around his tip. "Need you so, so much." You coo, muffling your voice on his hoodie.

Soobin pressed his lips on your neck, pulling your hips upwards to move your panties aside. His other hand pushing his boxers down to his thighs, pumping his cock before pushing you down against him. You sink down on him all the way, he was impossibly deep in this position, stuffed full and slick from your juices. You didn't expect yourself to take him in that easily despite his size. Your pizza was that eager to have him again, but the sting was still there as you stayed still to breathe.

"Shit… you're so tight for me." He groaned, barely hanging on. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clenching around his length as your legs failed you. A shaky breath escaped your lips when he began to grind his hips against yours, taking you to another level of deep, releasing a choked moan from your throat.

You tried to move, your ass bouncing on his thighs as you brought yourself up and pushed yourself down until he was buried deeply inside. "I want you to fuck me until you can't anymore, want you to cum in me. Please."

Soobin let out a breathy laugh, his chest heaving from breathing heavily. You felt heavenly around him.

"Anything for you, princess."

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Can I get something soft with 24. just really needed a hug sort of hug from the Soft tm prompt list for lambden thank you 💕💞

24 - Really needed a hug

Modern au this time! Aiden knows exactly how to make his boyfriend feel better after a hard day at work.

Lambert leaned back in the driver's seat, basking in the first bit of silence he'd had all day and taking a few deep breaths like Vesemir had taught him when he was still an angry teenager (and Lambert would take it to his grave that this shit actually did help to some extent). It hadn't even been a bad day really, just overwhelming.

From the get go it had felt like there were more people in the gym than usual for a weekday. The phone seemed to have developed a sixth sense and rang every single time he went to step away, with most of the queries being of the asinine variety that proved some people didn't have the common sense God gave an ant and as soon as he was finished with a phonecall, someone would pop up at the desk like a lycra clad Jack-in-the-box. He'd had to lecture four different people about the importance of putting the weights back when they were done with them and not just leaving them on the god damn floor (he didn't give a shit if you were going to be using them again in five minutes. Put the fuckers back!). Between all that he'd barely had the time to get his head straight for his classes and private PT sessions, with half of his new clients far more interested in flirting with him than learning how to correctly use the leg press.

He'd practically sprinted out the door when his shift was over, wanting nothing more than to shower and change into his comfy hoodie and sweats - something he usually did at work before he left but he just wanted to get home. It wasn't until he arrived home that his fantasising about curling up on the sofa with Aiden and a ridiculously large pizza was interrupted by the realisation they were supposed to be going out tonight. He groaned loudly. It was just to a local bar with Geralt, Eskel and Jaskier but still....people.

"Hi, love." Aiden called from the kitchen as Lambert kicked the door shut behind him.

"Gonna shower." Lambert replied without stopping and therefore missing Aiden's calculating stare following him from where he stood in the kitchen doorway, halfway to greeting his boyfriend properly before the other had made a beeline for the stairs.

Lambert felt marginally better after standing under the warm water and just existing for a few minutes, finding the contrast soothing as he leaned his forehead against the cool tiles. Somewhat reluctantly he turned the shower off, not looking forward to the frigid air which waited for him on the other side of the shower curtain.

What greeted him instead was a gently smiling Aiden; one of the huge, fluffy, fancy guest towels spread open in his hands, "C'mere." He gave the towel a gentle shake.

Lambert happily obliged, stepping forwards and allowing himself to be enveloped in warmth as Aiden simultaneously hugged and dried him.

"Bad day?"

Lambert awkwardly freed his arms to return the embrace and rest his head on Aiden's shoulder, the others scent more grounding than any breathing exercise, "Just a lot."

Aiden didn't ask him to elaborate, trusting Lambert to share in his own time if he chose to and instead soothingly running the corner of the towel over lambert's hair with one hand whilst the other was a warm weight across his back.

Lambert wasn't sure how much time had passed when he eventually pulled away, "Suppose I'd better go grab some clothes." He sighed

"One step ahead of you." Aiden said, still holding onto Lambert loosely and gesturing with his head to the bundle of very familiar looking fabric sat on the lid of the closed toilet. His favourite hoodie and sweats. He looked at Aiden in confusion, this was hardly 'going out' attire. It was only now he noticed that Aiden was similarly dressed.

"Change of plan." Aiden said nervously, "I figured you might not be up to socialising much and I also know you hate cancelling on your brothers, so I asked Geralt to pick up a couple of pizzas when you were showering and Eskel said he'd bring a few classic DVD's over so you can just focus on the movie if you don't feel like talking?"

Lambert could only stare in mild amazement at how Aiden had unknowingly, somehow read his bloody mind. How the hell did he get this lucky?

He was obviously taking too long to show any outward reaction as Aiden had started to ramble about how it wasn't too late to go back to the original plan if he'd overstepped.

Lambert silenced him by pulling him into a proper hug once again, "Thanks." He mumbled into the Aiden's hair.

Aiden gave him an answering squeeze just as the front door opening followed by a very loud "We come bearing very cheesy sustenance!" Announced the arrival of Geralt and Jaskier.

"Alright, clothes on." Aiden said, releasing Lambert to go and greet the others, "I have no issues with you walking around the house naked but I don't want to give Jaskier the wrong idea."

Lambert rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's smirk, "Not even in his dreams. Wait, isn't that my sweatshirt?

"This was your sweatshirt."

[inuyashamybeloved]

This is a snippet from my work for the event, it’s part of a canon divergence where Inuyasha gets adopted a year after Izayoi died. This is a slice of life fic and will include beautiful artwork from the talented Miss @hopidoodle​ @inu-spiration​​

Life in Guin’s village had turned out better than Inuyasha had expected. At first, people had been wary of him and had looked at him curiously, but not a single person had treated him rudely; and, after a while, they had opened up to him and considered him one of their own.

Once he had finished with the feeding task, he collected the eggs and headed to the barn to get some milk. Guinevere had made it very clear early on that he needed to drink a glass of milk every day to make his bones stronger, and naturally he had argued with her that he was already strong. Inuyasha hadn’t expected Myoga to side with the woman, and he wasn’t sure if the flea was lying or not, but decided to go with the flow. Besides, he ended up liking milk.

His puppy ears twitched on their own accord when his nose caught the scent of cooking bacon, and he quickened his pace without even noticing. He loved bacon. Really, really loved bacon. Breakfast in England was so different from what he had been used to back in Japan—before his mother had died. And though they drank tea as well, it was a different kind, and it had taken Inuyasha some time to get used to the local variety.

“I got the eggs!” he announced as he all but ran into the house, making a beeline for the stove to stare, as if enamored, at the sizzling strips of bacon, all three women giggling at his reaction.

“Thank you, Inuyasha,” Guinevere said as she took the basket of eggs and the small milk canister from him, then took a strip of bacon and handed it to the eager boy. “Go wash your hands; you’ll have more once breakfast is served.”

He nodded eagerly and rushed to the water pump outside.

[tarithenurse]

D&D spam 3/3 (for now)

As I said in my previous post, this last post is going to be dedicated Zilvra’s background but written as prose because that’s the kind of nerd I am.

1 – Meeting Filandrin

She’s 12. Her mother is busy with work, not noticing how little friends Zilvra has made at school.

The distant chatting grew fainter as Zilvra’s feet brought her down the long, dimly lit corridor and the only other sound was the faint shuffling from the dress that her mother had made her wear. Swish-swish, the silk went with every step...but Zilvra felt confident that there was no one around to hear it.

Every door she came by, Zilvra paused and listened through the hard compressed material. Sometimes she could hear voices muffled behind them while other times it was silent and if that was the case, she went to try the handle ever so carefully...finding door after door locked.

Because of the constant disappointments of locked doors, she almost squeaked in surprise when one finally did give, pushing slightly ajar. It was enough to see a sliver of a neatly furnished office but nothing else, so Zilvra boldly pushed further, coming into the room fully where she was met by a scent of lingering perfume.

It was a medium sized office with no windows and lit softly by magical lights as was want in the palace and university although here there was a single mushroom growing in a pot on a side table. The floor was covered by a deep purple rug to soften the cold from the stones and Zilvra stepped onto it to take in the bookcase on one side and the fireplace on the other...and the person standing there.

No taller than her and dressed simply, Zilvra knew instinctively that this was a boy and probably of around the same age as herself. He held a broom closely to his chest as he took in the intruder with a face marred with concern and confusion. Short hair and dusky purple skin, it was his eyes that were striking to Zilvra: violet and with a lingering flame of something that she decided was curiosity similar to what was bubbling in her own guts.

“Hi,” she smiled, sauntering over to the bookcase before turning around again to face the young male.

“Hello.”

Deciding that he didn’t sound convinced, Zilvra powered on. “My mother works here,” she explained, although meaning the building and not the office, “what are you supposed to be doing?”

“Cleaning...and I help teach the other boys,” the boy managed to brave after a pause.

Zilvra looked around, not finding any dust on the dark floor or anywhere else. Perhaps the boy had just finished? And if that was the case perhaps he could show her around instead? Or at least play with her, because she was so bored waiting for mother to finish work.

With sparkling eyes, Zilvra smiled at the boy and held out her hand. “Come, you’re going to show me around...but we’re going to be sneaky! Can you sneak?”

Taking her hand with one of his own and clutching the broom tightly in the other, the boy followed in Zilvra’s wake, doing his best to be quiet as he came to terms with the new situation.

“What’s your name?”

“Filandrin.”

“Hi Filandrin...I’m Zilvra.”

2 – Getting caught

She’s 16. The girls at school hold little interest for Zilvra...she’s got something better, something secret.

Getting the brass key had been surprisingly simple once they knew who had one that worked. Mother’s colleague was trusting and a bit sloppy with where she put her stuff and often left the door to the office ajar for anyone to slip in...which Zilvra had done after hours while Filandrin kept watch.

From there they had made a beeline to the testing facility and listened by the heavy doors: not a sound. Everyone must have gone home for the evening including Mother...which was a bit disconcerting as she might end up questioning where Zilvra was soon. In other words: they were working with a deadline.

“Are you sure about this?” Filandrin whispered as Zilvra stuck the key in the lock.

Flashing him a bright grin, Zilvra turned the key. “Why? You scared?”

She could see the purple of his face grow darker for a moment but his eyes were steely as he answered: no, he was not afraid of anything.

It was a lie.

It was a lie told for both of them because there was no doubt that they couldn’t afford to be caught. This was forbidden territory.

Pushing the door open just enough to slip through, Zilvra grabbed the boy by the hand and dragged him along. Once inside, she handed him the key because of course this ridiculous dress didn’t have any pockets where she could put it and she wanted her hands free now that it was time to explore.

“I’ll-I’ll keep an eye out for anyone coming,” Filandrin volunteered.

Zilvra’s gaze was already roaming the big room with what little light was available: desks with chairs, stacks of documents, contraptions that made little sense to her...and at the far end of the room the floor had been cleared towards the wall where chains and manacles hung. It smelled of magic and soot. Everything seemed to be drab in colour but that might just be the darkness at work. There was a cage in the corner with something in it. A kobold? Some wretched creature for sure: Zilvra could hear it whimpering as she moved closer.

Then suddenly the little light from the hallway was expelled as Filandrin closed the door behind them.

“Quick! Hide!” he whispered frantically into the darkness.

But there was no time.

The door was slammed fully open and the magical lights in the room flared up with an uncomfortable glare, revealing the teenagers scrambling for cover under desks.

“There! I told you!” The voice was triumphant.

Hard steps proceeded the arms that grabbed the intruders and pulled them free into the light. Looking around frantically, Zilvra struggled against the strong hold, but the female (the Head of Guards according to her badge) had an iron grip.

She shook Zilvra lightly. “How did you get in?”

Dark blue eyes demanded an answer and Zilvra was ready to lie for her life, claim that the door had been open and that she was looking for her mother...but she never got that far because a male voice called out.

“A key! The boy has a key, ma’am.”

“I see...” For a brief moment the dark blue eyes were focused on Filandrin and Zilvra found her own gaze following to the panicked boy only to be snapped back to the woman before her: “You should know better than to let a boy get you in trouble.”

“What?” Zilvra had a hard time formulating a sentence: “He di-...wait...no hang o-”

“Be quiet or it’ll be worse for you,” came the warning.

Dragged back the way they’d gotten in, Zilvra tried to fight against the hard grip in her arm. Looking around frantically as they got out of the room and the woman paused, Zilvra caught Filandrin’s eyes. They were so close to each other, reaching out, their fingertips nearly met but just then they found that they were being pulled different ways.

“Zilvra?” Filandrin’s scared voice called out.

Craning her neck to look up at the head of guards, Zilvra tried to muster her most adult demeanour the way mother did it when something was bothering her. “Let us go! Right now!” It had no effect though. “Filandrin! Filandrin!”

Her own name came back as a warped echo, filled with terror. Even after the boy and his guards had rounded the corner could she hear the screams for her until they suddenly were stopped. Abruptly.

“FILANDRIN!” she screamed.

The grip in her arm shook her again. “Oh, cut it out! You’ll never see him again. Worry about what’s going to happen to you instead.”

Any further probing to learn more proved fruitless and Zilvra was unceremoniously brought into an office near the gates and placed on a stool to wait until her mother came to fetch her.

3 – An effort was made

She’s still 16 year old – nearly 17. Bitter and hurt.

It had taken weeks to prepare for this: finding out where to go, getting the lock picking set (that had been a quest of its own) and finally getting mother to let her out of sight.

Now she was here, kneeling in front of a drab office door in the Judges’ House. In there was the answer to the question that had been plaguing Zilvra’s mind since the evening she last saw Filandrin: Where was he?

It was tricky to get it to work with the lock picks even though the lock seemed simple enough...but eventually it worked out and with a subtle click the door opened just a few inches. Quickly, Zilvra slipped in and pushed the door closed behind her, already distracted by what lay before her.

Small and cramped, the office was filled with bookcases and cabinets, every shelf (and probably every drawer) laden with stacks of paper and thick, worn ledgers. The crystal lights in the sconces had dimmed to a barely visible glow but it was enough to lend a bit extra to see by: bare floor, a simple (but flat) desk with a crude chair that sat facing the door, and several stacks of documents piled precariously here and there.

Where to start?

Figuring that the newest reports would be on the desk, Zilvra went over and took the seat there and began sifting through the stacks.

...

She didn’t know how long she’d been at it, maybe just an hour but it could easily have been more. Either way, her attention was suddenly diverted from the search the moment there was a click of a doorhandle being pushed down. Slipping from the chair under the desk, she hoped she was in time to hide herself but:

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” a vaguely familiar voice called brusquely.

Crouching uncomfortably under the piece of furniture, Zilvra decided to stay put, hoping that the guard would leave. This was the second time she tried to hide under a desk and for the second time it would be to no avail as heavy footsteps preceded the arm that reached down to grab her by the scruff, pulling her out harshly.

“You,” the very same Head of Guards as from that fateful night said menacingly as she stared down Zilvra with dark blue eyes, “this time I can’t keep my hand over you.”

It was a blur of motion and barked orders as Zilvra got dragged to the same guard house as last time and again sat on the stool to await the arrival of her mother. She knew better than to demand answers from the Head of Guards although the thought did present itself.

By the time Allaunira showed up, Zilvra sat meekly, silently, under the watchful gaze of the both the guards and an official from the Judges’ House.

4 – Lesson one

Age 17. Dejected, heartbroken, frustrated, fidgeting.

“How was school?” mother asked as soon as Zilvra stepped in the door but all she got in answer was a noncommittal grunt. Not to be deterred, Allaunira continued in a light tone: “Please go and change to something practical and meet me and our guest out back.”

The Shadowsong household was among the richer ones and as such was a freestanding building with a walled enclosure where the mother had taken up tending to their own mushroom and lichen. Still, there was ample space to move about and as a child, Zilvra had often fought many imaginary foes there. It smells of fungus of course, but also of rich earth and stones and fresh water from the aqueduct that’s been routed through the garden to form a little pond.

Now, Zilvra entered the “garden” dressed in her favourite clothes: the subtle leather trousers and silk shirt that made it possible to move about easily and quietly. It’s not that she didn’t like the fancy dresses her mother preferred her to wear...it was just that it was easier to move and climb wearing this instead. Soft leather boots to finish the outfit made her silent as a shadow (at least in her own mind).

“Ah, there you are,” her mother preened, “I’d like you to meet someone.” Motioning towards a similarly practically dressed woman who stepped out from behind a taller mushroom, Allaunira continued to explain, “this is Ellara Loth’Kar...listen to what she teaches you and we’ll talk when you’re done for the day.”

Alright, to call it an explanation was an exaggeration, but it was at least enough to calm Zilvra’s nerves a bit and rather instill curiosity.

The woman before her was lithe and short (even for a Drow) with slate grey skin and shoulder-length white hair that had been tied back carefully and tightly. She was dressed all in black which made her violet eyes stand out more and for a moment reminded Zilvra of Filandrin’s eyes – it made her gut tighten at the thought of her lost friend.

“Here.” The woman, Ellara, tossed something to Zilvra who caught it: it was a wooden dagger, carefully carved to mimic a real one and undoubtedly costly considering the material. “Now defend yourself.” And Ellara launched herself at the young girl with a vigour that she didn’t expect.

The battle was (very) short, finishing in Ellara’s favour, of course.

“You’ve got much to learn, Zilvra, but there is potential. Now I ask you...is the wish to learn there?”

Rubbing her ribs, the younger woman took a moment to consider what might be implied and how she could use this to her own advantage and thus answered with conviction: “Yes. Teach me.”

5 – The talk

Late 23 years old, close to finishing school, starting to formulate an idea for the future.

There was a soft knock on the door to alert Zilvra of her mother’s arrival. “Darling...I think it’s time we talk,” Allaunira began, immediately making her daughter’s mind streak off in every direction as to what she might have done wrong this time...not that she always got into trouble but lately the tasks from Ellara had been the more serious kind and it had gotten Zilvra to neighbourhoods in Menzoberranzan that she was sure her mother would not approve of.

She attempted an innocent demeanour. “About what, mother?” Turning on the chair, she watched as her mother crossed the room and sat down on the bed.

“About you and your future, dearest.” A deep sigh preceded what came next: “You are getting applications.”

Right away, Zilvra knew what Allaunira meant. Although her heat undoubtedly was a ways off, both she and the other girls in her class were maturing and she knew that some of them had also received notifications of interest...she just didn’t expect to get any herself.

“That’s...uhm...” she found herself at a loss for words.

Allaunira was differently capable of stringing together a proper sentence. “It’s early, is what it is...and there are bound to come more. When I was your age, your grandmother and I sat down and decided on my course of action. As you know, I waited a while but when it finally was time, we sorted through the applicants and your grandmother also sought out a few males we deemed suitable for me. After a series of interviews and trials, I picked one...your father.”

“What was he like? You never talk about him.”

Noticing the way Zilvra had perked up at the mention of her father, Allaunira relented: “His name was...is...Kalannar. He was at least back then a captain. A fine – and a bit younger – male.” For a moment, she was lost in the memories only belonging to herself then she shook herself out of them. “But the question remains. You are young and frankly I do not see you settling down with a child yet...am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong.” Reaching for her wooden dagger, Zilvra began to pick at the invisible dirt under her fingernails. “I’m not...it’s just...there’s so much to do, still!” As if realizing the implication of her words, the young drow held up the hands in defence. “I’m not saying that life is over once you have kids!”

Allaunira smiled. “I know you’re not, my child...and I did not expect you to wish to settle down...in fact...what do you want to do? I have an idea.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“No, dear...you first.”

The mother patted the bed beside her, indicating for Zilvra to come over and she did. Still fidgeting with the dagger, the young woman sat meekly for a moment while gathering her thoughts.

“I need to finish school first, I guess...”

“That would be smart.” Allaunira began to re-braid her daughters hair.

“Hm. Then I need to finish training with Ellara...if that’s possible...she’s still much better than I am...”

The mother’s hands hesitated for half a heartbeat but Zilvra didn’t notice. “That probably comes from experience.”

“Probably.” Bringing the wooden knife to rest in her lap, Zilvra had closed her eyes at the feel of her mother’s fingers through her hair. “I’ve considered the university...”

“Really?” The question came out with a bit too much surprise, making the daughter quirk an eyebrow. “I mean...you have improved greatly with our sessions...but I hardly expect you to aim for the Sorcere? And the military school...?”

The girl shrugged. “That’s the thing...I don’t know what else I should do...”

There was a deep sigh that made Zilvra turn her head to watch the mother as her hands fell to her lap. “Perhaps...perhaps you’ll find your answers topside?”

“Mother!” Zilvra was equally thrilled and scared of the idea that she silently had harboured too.

“I know...it sounds like I’m sending you away....uh, I’m a terrible mother but darling you’re not at peace here! You never have been. Maybe the solution is to see more of the world before settling down.”

Zilvra grabbed her mother’s hands. “No, it doesn’t feel like you’re sending me away! But where would I go?”

“Would it matter? Anywhere, where the society is different and you can see the stars. Am I wrong, my dear?”

“If only I knew...” Zilvra stopped herself. Then a new steely glint stole into her eyes. “No, mother, you’re not wrong.”

Allaunira freed her hand to tuck a loose strand behind her daughter’s ear. “But as you said...finish school and Ellara’s training, will you not? Let me have you for a bit longer?”

“Of course...and know that I’ll miss you once I’m away. Every day.”

They hugged tightly before the mother extricated herself from the embrace and positioned Zilvra to finish the braiding.

6 – A parting gift

She’s 24 years old and restless like never before.

”Gotcha!” Still panting, Zilvra wiped the dirt off her knees while waiting for Ellara to get back up from where she had pinned her a second ago.

The tutor got to her feet and took a moment to examine the gash in the vest: just a few millimetres more and the student would have drawn blood. “Not bad...not bad at all. This is, what, the fifth time you’ve bested me?”

“Sixth, but who’s counting,” came the answer with a cheeky smile. “Go again?”

There was a beat of silence, then Ellara shook her head. “No...this was the last time.”

“What?”

“You heard me...” Ellara stepped over to her dumbfounded student and patted her shoulder, “and you knew this day would come.”

Zilvra nodded, handing back the dagger that she had been borrowing for training. “I know...it’s just...sooner than I expected.”

The look she received was knowing. “Let us tell your mother, hm?”

Anticipation began to bubble in Zilvra’s guts as they entered the house: this was what she had been waiting for. School had ended weeks ago and all there had been keeping her from leaving was the training with Ellara and now...now she could set out. It would be a journey without destination, one meant for bettering herself and learning as much as she could until the day where she returned with a vision of how the Drow world could be. And who knew, maybe along the way she could find Filandrin too?

“Zilvra?” Allaunira’s voice brought the young woman back to reality. “Ellara? Why are you not training?”

Ellara smiled her crooked smile. “I have no more left to teach her...your daughter has excelled and what she lacks now she will have to learn through experience.”

“I guess it’s time I give this back,” Zilvra began to pull the wooden dagger from her belt where she always kept it.

The teacher’s hands shot forward to stop the motion. “No, that was a gift. Keep it.”

“And speaking of gifts,” Allaunira explained, “we knew this day would come and we got you something.”

Pulling out a chest, she held it out for her daughter to open. With trembling hands the latch was slid aside and the lid lifted to reveal a set of beautiful daggers.

“Thank you!”

Hugs were exchanged (even between former student and teacher) before Ellara took her leave for the last time.

7 – Departure

She’s 24 and life has caught up with her.

The night had been full with a lavish dinner together with the family but now as the morning hour had been struck from the Tower, it was just Zilvra and Allaunira walking arm in arm towards the city limits. Not a word was spoken before the two of them reached the last watch towers of Menzoberranzan and the awaiting caravan came into view.

“My dear...” Allaunira’s voice crackled and the daughter felt the same pain sting in her own heart.

“I know...I will...”

They hugged ferociously and Zilvra found herself inhaling her mother’s scent one last time before turning on the heel and marching away with the head held high. Oh, how she wanted to look back. To turn back. But something stronger was calling for her and kept her feet moving.

8 – Stouvania

She’s 24, broke and confused in Stouvania.

It felt good to have the feet on solid ground once more although the trip aboard The Mermaid had been comfortable...too comfortable, too comfortable maybe because the young Drow had spent the last of her coin on the passage to Stouvania.

And now she was there, broke and just as aimless as before in a city that looked at her like she’d fallen from the moon.  

Passing through the market, Zilvra had deftly snatched a bit of food before the stalls closed down for the evening, grateful for the training she had had with Ellara that had made her quick and discreet of hand.

Then she sought for a park and found one with tall trees blocking out the growing night sky. Even here in the city it was possible to see the constellations above, but it would be better with a higher vantage point...and it might also give her some much needed cover against the eyes that kept finding her no matter where she walked.

Down the street, into an alley and the next one, finding a low wall that she could climb up on quietly before accessing the roof on silent feet. Back against a chimney, she could enjoy the rest of the food while watching the beauty above.

That’s where she sat when she heard the a window of the adjacent house open. Looking over, she could see an elderly guard leaning out, pointing at her.

“You there!” he said brusquely, “come down at once.”

She considered running away...but where could she run to? She was a stranger in a foreign land. And to top it off she could hear the sound of people from the alley on the other side of the house she was on. Glancing down, Zilvra spotted several guards surrounding the building.

“Alright,” she relented, “I’ll come down.”

Pointing towards the wall she had used for her ascend, she explained the route to make sure they didn’t thinks he was running. She could. There was no one on the other side of that wall...or so she thought but they might be on their way and so she did as promised. Either way, she could just explain what was going on.

Landing on the ground, she was immediately surrounded, long spears pointed at her.

It took a moment for the man in charge to join them but when he did he wasted no time before pointing at a young man in the circle around Zilvra. “You, take her weapons.”

She did protest at that. And again at the manacles that they forced on her before marching her away.

...

The cell was comfortably dark at least and there even was a bit of straw to protect against the cold from the floor...not that the straw had been clean, but Zilvra had chanced cleaning up a bit with some magic even though it made the prison guard nervous. All of her belongings had been taken from her so she couldn’t pick the lock...and she probably wouldn’t have gotten far anyways.

She never saw the guy that had been in charge of the arrest before the trial. That day he throned in the stand, explaining how bravely he and his men had acted to end this taunting crime: “Roof walking”.

Zilvra had been asked what she could say in her defence and she opened out with saying that she was new and didn’t know of said law. She accepted that she could have surmised that she was trespassing...but roof walking was something she’d never heard of. She did apologize although she secretly didn’t feel it was needed: a humble approach seemed the smarter path.

It didn’t work. Or if it did, then the original punishment must have been much more severe.

“You shall work off your debt through adventuring,” the judge had declared before continuing, “and to prevent you from escaping, you will be placed in Bonds.”

As no explanation was given as to what these bonds were, Zilvra ventured to raise her hand and ask. Moments later she thought the people of Stouvania were barbarians: the bonds would tighten around her wrists and neck over time, eventually breaking her bones and strangling her unless she returned to have them magically loosened!

[misaligncdarchive]

her time in the shower allowed her to calm down. at the very least allow her to take in everything that she had come to realize. her life had been an utter rollercoaster ever since she had opted to stop the suppressants. she had been kicked out of her childhood home and was staying with an unmated alpha. she had thought that she would have time to prepare for her first heat. instead it had crept up on her and now she bore a mark that signified she was claimed. she found herself brushing against it as she got herself clean. it almost felt wrong to wash away the evidence of what they had done together.

billie almost wanted to hide in the shower till the water ran cold. granted she had no clue if he would want to clean up after her. she knew that she was being possibly pathetic if not a bit silly. there was no point in avoiding something that she knew she had to face. that was what prompted her to get out of the shower. she towel dried her hair after getting the rest of her body dry. due to the fact that she didn't hear any movement she assumed that ezra was gone from the room. she tip toed out only to glance towards the mirror.

without thinking, she was going to open the towel that was wrapped around her. her face flushed as she realized just how many marks her body was covered in. it seemed that ezra had clearly explored every single inch of her. things were still coming back in small flashes as she went to get dressed. she threw on a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. she was going to grab one of her sweaters when she realized it felt like something was missing. her nose crinkled before she made her way back to ezra's room only to go for his closet. after rummaging around she managed to find a sweatshirt of his that she quickly tugged over her head.

she made her way down the stairs while pulling her somewhat damp hair into a ponytail. the moment she reached the landing she was hit with the scent that was clearly hers and his. she didn't even think about what she was doing as she stepped into the living room," oh my god." the couch was utterly destroyed, a broken lamp on the floor and pillows cast aside. her face turned bright red but she realized she could smell coffee. that was what prompted her to turn away and make a beeline for the kitchen," alpha," she breathed," i'm-i'm so so sorry about the mess, i didn't realize what i did."

ezra knew that kisses weren't always sexual, he knew people kissed hello and goodbye to friends and family and that kisses were used for other things. the feeling of billie's lips against his cheek was like that, something like acceptance and forgiveness rolled into one and ezra stared after her with an unguarded look of surprise as she disappeared into the bathroom. "thanks." he murmured quietly once she was out of sight, not sure if she would hear him, but not really meaning her to.

he waited until the water turned on before pulling himself out of bed and groaning, realizing it felt like he'd pulled something. ezra's movements were slow as he found a pair of sweatpants to pull on, not worried about finding a shirt since that wasn't anything billie hadn't seen before, and that was before they'd slept together. not that they'd done much sleeping in comparison, and that term seemed too mild for what happened between them, too reserved for how unrestrained they'd been. at least billie would have a chance to wash some of the evidence away and ezra hoped she found it soothing and let the hot water beat some of the tension out of her muscles.

while she was busy with that, ezra wasn't idle, ripping the sheets from the bed and wondering if he should spray the mattress down with something as he made it to the washing machine and dumped the sheets inside. the comforter would need to wait for the next load since the machine wasn't big enough to take all of it at once, but at least he could start getting things clean.

next up was coffee, because he knew billie would want some and also thought that it would be good to sip on while cleaning up the living room, because he was pretty sure they started there. all it took was one look at the room to decide against cleaning it, however, with ezra turning his back on the room until later because it would take more than a bottle of febreeze and a few replaced cushions to restore that room. it smelled just as strongly as the bedroom and the couch was wrecked, a lamp broken… it was too early for that mess and eventually ezra ended up slouched at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, listening to the coffee pot drip and waiting for billie.

[arctrooper69]

The Things We Fight For - Chapter 1

There are many things that are complicated in terms of team dynamics. You and the bad batch navigate these new times in the best way you know how. Together.

A/N: This is going to be the first chapter in a Hunter x Reader series. Not sure how long it will be but stay tuned for angst, fluff, romance, action, drama and more because we've got it all!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Warnings: Nothing major yet. Action scenes, clanker slaying, bad decisions.

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

The cold air stung your cheeks, as you ducked and dove through the small army of battle droids.

"Take that, ya bitch ass clanker!" you whooped loudly as you took down a B2 with a single headshot. You grabbed the droid before it hit the ground and spun it around by the ankle, taking three more out with it. The cold, snowy air mixed with the acrid scent of blaster fire really did something to you. You felt giddy, nearly euphoric.

"Y/n, look out! Get to cover!" Hunter's voice sounded over your coms as you glanced up to see the barrel of a tank gun coming up over the hill. You grinned widely. "Yeah I see it," you shouted back through the coms, probably way too loudly. "I got it!"

"Y/n, no! Wait for us to come to your position."

Riding the euphoric high of your previous victory, you hardly registered his command. You vaulted over a fallen droid and ran down to meet the incoming tank. The wind swept through your hair as you sped down the snow covered hill, guns blazing.

"Y/n, get back here!"

You turned off your coms, gritting your teeth in determination as you launched yourself up and over the turret. If you took down this tank on your own, you'd for sure prove to the squad - well, you weren't sure what you were trying to prove. But it did feel pretty amazing kicking ass like this. You could hear yelling behind you as you grabbed onto the barrel of the mounted turret gun. You glanced back at the batch, breaking your concentration for a split second, and that was all it took. The tank fired, jerking the turret from your grasp and flinging you off to the side. You felt the burning heat as the bolt flew past you, just barely missing your side. You hit the ground hard as Wrecker barreled over.

"Here catch!" You yelled, tossing a metal sphere his way. Jumping to your feet, you grinned as he threw it into the tank. You hit the detonator and the ground shook. Droid bits flew everywhere and you let yourself collapse back into the snow grinning like a lothcat. You felt so alive, like you could do anything.

"Hell yeah! Did you see that!?" you yelled as you sat up. Your face fell as Hunter ran up to you followed by Echo and Tech. He did not look happy.

"You mind telling me what the HELL that was!?" Hunter almost never yelled, even when he was angry. Right now though, his raised voice had an edge to it, as if his restraint was using every ounce of the self control that he possessed. "I told you to wait! You almost got yourself killed with that little stunt you just pulled. You almost got Wrecker killed."

You grit your teeth hard, the euphoria dying down to form a knot in the back of your throat. You moved to pull yourself back to your feet. "But I..."

"Don't." He snapped sharply. "Stay down. You nearly blew yourself up. Let Tech check you over."

"Hunter I'm f- " you began to retort but a sharp look from Tech cut you off. You sighed, giving in, and allowed him to scan you.

"She's fine. Just a few bumps and bruises."

Hunter nodded, visibly relaxing. "Good."

You got to your feet, walking back to the shuttle. The walk back was silent. You noticed Echo glancing back and forth between Hunter and you.

What was going on with Hunter? It hadn't even been that bad. It wasn't anything any of them hadn't done before.

Once back onboard, you made a beeline to the fresher but before you could open the door, Hunter grabbed you by the shoulders, spinning you to face him. His face was softer now that he'd had time to cool off. Softer but still very much stern.

"This isn't over, y/n. We'll discuss this in the morning. Go get some rest."

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@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

[sakinotfound]

19:54 | suguru getou

cw: no use of pronouns, gender not specified, ooc!suguru, established relationship, pure fluff, hurt/comfort, college au but i never specify anything— it was in my head though

𖤣𖤥𖠿𖤣𖤥

all the lights are off and it's pitch black when suguru enters your apartment. you had given him the spare keys to come home if he ever wanted to.

switching on the dim lights of your living room, suguru gently locks the entrance door. he figured you were asleep considering you were nowhere to be seen. he knew you were at home as soon as his eyes land on your phone kept on the coffee table right in front of his eyes.

he had just come back from the gym downstairs, a towel around his neck and fresh clothes sticking a bit to his still slightly wet skin from the shower. suguru's hair was damp as they hung down his shoulders, just above his lower back.

he went inside the kitchen to fill his water bottle and after that made a beeline towards your room. he was so tired and all he wanted was to join you in your nap time and snuggle close to you. he hadn't gotten a chance to talk to you the whole day and he missed you.

it's not as if you two had to talk every single day. it's just he prefers to hear your voice or at least see you once in the entire day; if it's possible. it's enough to make him happy.

you weren't any different though. when suguru would be gone for competitions outside the city, you would sometimes ask him to send a selfie or video call him even if for only 5 minutes. and suguru would happily oblige.

so imagine his shock when instead of seeing your peaceful sleeping beauty face, he hears whimpers and hiccups as your whole frame quivers. you were crying.

suguru quietly goes up to you and sits down beside your laid form. the bed dips with his weight and the scent of his body wash wafts up to your olfactory receptors. it instantly makes you feel at home and even if only a little bit, it does make you feel better.

"love, do you want to talk about it?" suguru's voice is low and soft. it sounds concerned but he doesn't push. he places his hand on your head, the weight of which makes you feel safe.

"not right now." you manage to speak out. but he doesn't miss the crack in your nasally voice. his heart clenches with pain. he could never handle seeing you in pain, it physically hurt him. and even though he would go to any lengths to assist you in anything you wanted, he knew there were things in which he could do nothing. and that he would just have to sit those out and let the universe do its thing.

but that doesn't mean he was helpless. through thick and thin, suguru has always been the constant in your life. your pillar of support. your biggest motivator. one of his goals in life is to always support and help you through your dreams, aspirations and desires. be it big or small.

"it's okay, sweetheart. you don't have to. just know that i am right here, always by your side."

upon hearing his words, you instantly turned to face him and he felt a pang in his chest seeing your watery eyes, tear stained cheeks and wobbly lips.

"suguru..." you started crying again and immediately he lays down next to you, pulling your head to his chest. you snuggle your face into him and the whole room fills with the sounds of your muffled cries.

he pets your head, dragging his hands from the top of your head to the base of your neck repeatedly.

suguru doesn't dare interrupt you. he lets you cry it all out. sometimes you just need to have a good cry and then you can go back to living as before. sometimes you just need a shoulder to cry on or an ear to vomit your thoughts and feelings on to. and suguru would always happily do that for you.

he loves you so much after all.

[as-mod-eus]

Threaded and oversized pale mauve is introduced to snout once more—the officer is certain his K9 must be just as well acquainted with Maite as he is himself by now. He wonders how necessary it is to even offer the sample of her scent anymore, but still it prompts Ghost to tune in and search for it amongst all the others. Pine and vegetation, cooled humidity threatening to frost over. They venture from the black cruiser silently and on into the morning and he thinks of how well he's come to know this woman that he's never met and might never have the opportunity. How her parents' accounts of who she is and what she likes painted a personality for him, one pinned up and sewn to the photo tucked in his jacket's pocket, and made ever more complex with every new preference learned. The size of this sweater was proof of that, as it was surely twice her stature—as her parents had described her as being roughly five foot tall and healthy in weight. He thought it spoke something of her and her interests to drown in a sweater that was closer to his own stature than her own. It made her more real. Less of a stranger. Less of a concept: abductee. It made her a woman that he could feel the grief of losing more palpably in the air with every passing day. He had paid so many visits to her parents to give them updates and hope where he had none, to promise, to vow to them that he would not give up. That he would not stop, no matter how long it took, even if it took him straight through retirement. He would find their daughter.

Master and hound move like apparitions through the sea of fog, with only the glint of reflective lettering on black tactical to announce their presence. Dark forestry interrupts visage in sudden occurrence amongst the fog, but the duo moves fluidly together, as if in symbiosis. Obstacles are glided around, agile and powerful despite the grace in movements. Determination is resurrected amongst twittering and damp atmosphere as the hound comes upon essence; scent, and makes a beeline to follow its steps. Unbeknownst to Everest, he is retracing every step Maite made that morning. In the residual imprint of her memory steps first paw, then boot, and where she had meandered and wandered off a straight path, Ghost yanks in pivot to follow. Until suddenly the hound is burying his snout into the dirt, sniffing hard to alert Rowe that he's discovered something. This is more than they've found in the entire hunt for the girl since its inception, and the man's heart picks up in his chest as he lowers himself to inspect the finding. It is a single thread, the exact color of the sweater she was last known to be wearing. The officer feels a realization strike the pit of his abdomen, and then the duo are off, fast, with a start.

Thickened forest floor begins to taper, become sporadic, and then suddenly dissipate in favor of a much more trimmed conclave—though it is hardly polite. Amongst unkempt bushes and overgrown grass erects a home, abandoned in appearance, but the shepherd's adamant tug forward tells Everest there is something here. He feels the welling of anticipation begin to accumulate in his chest, though he's careful to not get irrational. He knows this will more likely be somewhere she had been and is not currently. Still, there is a viciousness growing within him knowing how much closer he is to finding her captor.

The K9 is momentarily halted by the authoritative command of the trooper, so that he might stoop down and lower himself into the cover of brush and thicket. There, he surveys the property intensely, taking his time to scan over everything from the top down. In the far corner of the unkempt yard, he notices a pile of dirt and shovel propped against a tree. As if set down to resume later. A game plan is quickly devised and he takes invisible movements around the property and then straight onto his abdomen, to army crawl beneath the cover of thicket and sneak behind the base of that tree. What he comes upon nearly makes him stumble aback, but Ghost is there to catch the trip. The officer gasps quietly. His stomach drops like an anvil.

The shock is momentarily lived in favor of reacquiring adequate cover, because amongst deeply shoveled earth is the severed remains of a woman—tinged blue and pale, lying in a puddle of mahogany blood.

Adrenaline is now cascading through his large form, and he huddles into the earth below him so as to stay hidden as possible and his canine partner mirrors. A hand cups around his mouth and radio as he whispers for immediate backup to his coordinates, and then quickly turns the volume silent. His breaths have become labored and intellect sharp in the wake of stealth. His crawl takes him away from the gruesome scene and behind a more fitting tree in the forest a few yards away, where he can take the safety off his gun and properly cock his glock 22. A deep inhale of fragrant forest air de-clutters his thoughts, and then he is advancing forward, into the home.

He doesn't attempt the front door, but rather surveys inside the dusted windows until he tests one and it lifts easily and quietly. Then he drops into the decaying home with a thud and commands Ghost to stay, as he disappears silently around corners and into new rooms. Cerulean irises surround dilated pupils, searching, hunting.

The premonition that this day would end different than all others since her abduction had wrapped itself around Maite all morning, blanketing her in an eerie sort of calm resignation that came from having exhausted herself both physically and mentally. The gutting memory of her family's tear-swollen faces on the news, the sound of their voices, broken beyond anything she had ever heard in their tone before as they pleaded with her captor to release her back to them safely, had given her the strength to make it through the summer. At first, the fact alone that she had managed to survive for as long as she did—which, from what she knew of the women that came before her, was sadly (or perhaps thankfully) longer than any of them had made it—was enough to keep the hope of escape alive. Not for a moment did she fool herself into thinking that she would be set free willingly. From the moment he had revealed his face to her, and she had squeezed her eyes shut so tightly against the sight that he'd forcefully had to pry them open himself, all while spewing colorful threats of what he would do to keep them open permanently and acting like her reaction to his appearance had offended him, Maite knew that it was because she was never meant to leave those four walls alive. They were her tomb, and just like all the others that occupied the cramped space before her, it was a matter of time before it claimed her.

Autumn came and she had gone through every stage of captivity. The panic, the disbelief, constant anxiety... certainly a great deal of anger and resistance. Enough in fact, to have earned her some long-term, if not irreversible injuries as a result and finally, she had come upon feigned compliance. The entire time, she had a clear understanding of how grim the prospects were. There was nothing the two had in common, but common sense and realistic expectations were definitely not the exception. He reacted favorably to the perceived acceptance of her situation, of the role she was supposed to fill, and it was then Maite understood lulling him into a false sense of trust would be her one and only chance, but she had to plan it very carefully. Sure, he lacked the emotional qualities that made a man human but he wasn't unintelligent. He had evaded police at every turn and even been so arrogant as to join the search efforts in order to gauge how close or far they were from closing in on him. So far, that had not happened and the clock was ticking. Her time was running out.

If she wanted to turn the attention to him, she would have to be discreet and reach out somehow. The first attempt came under the pretense of having dinner together. Maite had insisted on a hot meal, she didn't demand that it take place at the kitchen table upstairs, hoping that would keep her from setting off any red flags. What she did request was dessert, from a particular shop and prepared in a way that was so specific to her tastes it might tip off the owner, someone she had been close friends with in the recent past. It was a gamble, she didn't know how long he had been watching her every move but figured it was much safer than trying for a relative.

All the pieces appeared to have aligned in her favor, he accepted her request. However when he returned with dinner later that evening, it was a gift-boxed gaudy dress he had brought to her and not what she had asked for. The failure turned her stomach, rendering her unable to continue with the act. And a few days later, when it was announced that police resources were being pulled, the victorious display that followed also marked the day she decided to stop eating altogether. Perhaps to help speed up the inevitable process, or to maintain the smallest semblance of control as her state began to deteriorate. What had once been a strong, capable body, fighting long and hard against the horrors it was subjected to, was finally beginning to yield to the poor conditions it was kept in. She was withdrawing into herself, any hope for justice now came in the form of dreams. Of some kind, faceless stranger stumbling upon her remains and treating them with more dignity as they prepared to bring her back home than her executioner would surely afford her in those final moments.

As would have probably been one of her last petitions, she asked to be allowed out into the forest surrounding the remote property, for some fresh air and the warm touch of direct sunlight that didn't reach the lower levels of a house meticulously built to keep things trapped out of all reach from the outside world. There weren't any neighbors for miles and she was too physically weak to run now even if she wanted to. The risks were minimal, and a mere 24 hours prior a twisted predatory instinct let her wander a measured distance ahead as they walked. Kept within sight where he could relive the thrill of the hunt for one last time if presented with the opportunity, but it never came. Her last ditched effort was hardly anything she had given conscious thought to. Unsteadily weaving her way between trees while soaking in the midday heat, she plucked at loose threads on her sweater, absentmindedly leaving a sparse trail like bread crumbs as though to say 'come find me'. Without any real consideration to the possibility of volunteers fitting a certain criteria being revisited.

"That's far enough, come on. Let's go back inside, you can barely hold yourself up."

The morning routine was taking longer than usual. It was possible that he had found the clues she left behind or had simply grown tired of her wilting health and the silent treatment. Intuition weighed in once again: for one reason or the other, this day was bound to end different. Turning onto her bruised side on the unforgiving mattress, with the rattle of a chain which kept her secured by an ankle to a hook in the concrete floor to follow the movement, Maite tried to conjure up a selected, small collection of memories from the day before. The breeze on her skin and the smell of damp earth it carried with it, to fend off thoughts of what tools he may be out gathering to help dispose of her body with. Or worse, another innocent victim to replace her with.

[suna-reversed]

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked. 

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness. 

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!” 

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked. 

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own. 

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face. 

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.  

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife. 

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner. 

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to. 

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain. 

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you. 

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked, 

“You ever visited the countryside princess?” 

--

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body. 

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else. 

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight. 

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.  

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be. 

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place. 

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled. 

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed. 

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours. 

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface. 

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone. 

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees. 

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead. 

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were. 

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head. 

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds. 

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside. 

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”  

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

 “... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess. 

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state- 

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined. 

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?” 

How could he have not smiled right back at you. 

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

 Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs. 

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life. 

He had thrown his head back and laughed. 

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks. 

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled. 

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in. 

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head. 

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else. 

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited-  for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most. 

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery. 

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last. 

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged. 

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating- 

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state- 

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.” 

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside. 

—

How do you kill a god? 

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven. 

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god? 

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips, 

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you. 

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne. 

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here. 

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth. 

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through. 

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this. 

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body, 

“I need to pee.” 

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business. 

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days, 

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact. 

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip. 

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him. 

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this? 

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff. 

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him. 

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow. 

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights. 

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m tired of being a god.” 

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.” 

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste. 

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth. 

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply. 

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier. 

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest. 

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection. 

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.” 

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine. 

-

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked. 

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why. 

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.” 

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him. 

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.” 

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind. 

--

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun. 

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.  

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now. 

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair. 

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

credit- prompt list

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[littlemissnoname13]

Hello can I request where draco in fourth year having a crush on a hufflepuff reader but acts as arsehole cuz he doesn’t know how to show affection , leading it to her avoiding him which makes him depressed about what did he do wrong ?

Hi love. Thanks for the request.💕

I love writing Draco x hufflepuff!reader stories! I am a sucker for a slytherin x hufflepuff pairing.

I added a few extra details here and here. Hope you like it. X

Hopeful (Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Word count: 2100 sorry got a bit carried away. 😅

Warnings: None. Soft!Draco being an absolute blubbering idiot.

Draco’s thoughts are written in green

Spring had arrived. 

It could be felt in the cool and gentle zephyr that made the shiny new leaves on top of the once barren and dead trees rustle. 

Daisies were in full bloom and the wind had managed to carry some of the petals away—making them fall to the ground, acting like a harbinger of the fast approaching summer. 

Draco couldn’t be bothered if it was spring, or autumn or winter. 

In that particular moment, all he wanted to do was get away from the Slytherin common room and Pansy Parkinson. 

He had taken her to the Yule ball and things had sort of fizzled out afterwards. He couldn’t get himself to see her as anything other than a friend. 

Having ran all the way to a far and secluded area of the Hogwarts grounds, Draco leaned against a tree trunk and panted heavily in an attempt to catch his breath. 

“Are you—are you alright?” 

Your voice startled him and he quickly stood up straight to look around. 

You were sitting criss-crossed on the grass with your transfigurations textbook opened on your lap. Your shirt sleeves were rolled up and your yellow and black tie hugged very loosely around your neck. 

“Fine.” He muttered as he slowly sat down noticing a single daisy tucked behind your ears. 

After sitting there in complete silence for the next few minutes, he finally spoke up. 

“What are you even doing here anyway?” 

“Just wanted some peace and quiet to be honest.” You said, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s a beautiful day.” 

Draco just hummed in response and kept staring at the daisy in your hair that swayed lightly with the breeze. 

“What?” You asked when you noticed. 

“You have—you have a twig stuck in your hair.” 

“A daisy.” You corrected him as you closed your book and moved a bit closer to where he was sitting. “It’s a daisy.” 

“Yeah I know that. I’m not stupid.” He said quickly. “But why?” 

"Well, Daisies are essentially two flowers blended together in complete harmony." You said pulling the daisy out of your free falling hair before putting your hand forward to hand it to him. 

“And?” Draco reluctantly took the flower from you and blinked his eyes in confusion. 

“They are said to resemble innocence—true love even.”  You explained getting comfortable next to him.

“You believe in all that?” Draco scoffed, twirling the flower between his index finger and thumb. He couldn’t tell if the floral fragrance was coming from you or the air but it made him slightly queasy nonetheless. 

“Merlin. No.” You scrunched up your nose. “It just gives me hope I guess.” 

Draco gave you another hum in response. For someone who came up with snarky and sometimes witty comments on the spot, he found himself weirdly tongue tied. 

“I know you were hiding from Pansy by the way.” You remarked, making a small smile pull at his lips. 

“How come?”

“What do you mean how come?” You rolled your eyes. “Everyone can see that she is obsessed with you for some reason that I personally can't seem to comprehend.” 

~~~~~

The next day during potions class, Draco slowly opened his book and started to absently doodle on it with his quill while Snape talked about the upcoming potions essay that had to be done in pairs. 

Draco knew he should be paying attention but he just couldn’t get the interaction between you two out of his head. 

And just when he took a deep breath and decided to focus, a familiar scent started to fill his lungs up. 

Fruity, almost spicy notes of strawberry and pink grapefruit mixed with gardenias, vanilla and musk. It felt like someone had tossed a huge bouquet into the room. 

He knew it was you without even bothering to look up from my book. 

"Ah, Miss y/l/n. Late again." Snape muttered. “Five points from Hufflepuff house.” 

You quietly sat down next to your friend with your head hung low and Draco fought an unexplainable urge to give you a hug. 

"The essay must be done in pairs.." Snape said.

Great. 

"Ronald Weasley and Gregory Goyle." 

This is exactly what I needed right now. Thanks Snape. 

"Blaise Zabini and Hannah Abott." 

The last thing I need is someone weighing my essay down. 

"Draco Malfoy and y/n y/l/n." 

What? 

You turned back to look at Draco and gave him  an apologetic smile and he didn't understand why you kept smiling at him. It's not like the both of you had suddenly formed an unlikely bond with each other. 

Draco scowled at you in return and quickly raised his hand. "May I work on my essay alone?" 

"No. You may not Mr. Malfoy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Draco had been studying in the library for almost an hour. Because you were quietly sitting next to him, his elbows and knees slightly brushed yours every few seconds and as much as he hated to admit it, He secretly enjoyed it. 

Contrary to yesterday, Draco was trying very hard to make a conversation with you. You seemed somewhat offended that he had asked Snape to work on the essay alone. 

“I am happy to do most of the writing if you can look up all the ingredients.” You offered.

You don’t have to do all of that yourself. I am happy to help with the writing too. Is what he should have said. 

“Fine whatever.” He said instead as he reached for a copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. 

That night, Draco stayed up tossing and turning in his bed before giving up on getting any sleep for the night. 

He lethargically walked towards his dresser and put his hands in his blazer pocket pulling out the now dried and pressed daisy from the other day. 

Taking a deep breath, he put the flower in between the pages of his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. 

You were drawing him in, undoing him, unraveling him even. 

He knew that. 

But did you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Draco! Open up." 

His head jolted towards the door and He quickly walked over to open it. 

You stood on the other end with books tucked in your arms, wearing your denim shorts and a plain white tank top—looking like summer personified. 

The more time he spent with you, the more he started to notice your quirks. Like that the way your skin glowed as the days got warmer. 

Compliment her. Do it. It’s not Difficult. 

“Did you do something different to your hair?” 

“Uh—no why are you asking.” 

“It just looks a bit strange.” He commented wanting to slap himself. 

"Okay, well are you going to let me in?" You questioned, wondering why he was blocking the way and asking you about your hair. 

Why did you have to wear that God damned tank top-

"Sorry?" You asked stepping inside making his cheeks burn when he realized he wasn’t meaning to say that out loud. 

"Just shut up and get back to working in the essay or whatever it is that you were doing." Draco grumbled feeling embarrassed as he grabbed some fresh parchment. 

Okay. Focus. The Strengthening solution requires...

You stretched a little and pushed your hair away from your face. 

several days to mature...

"Staring is rude Draco." You suddenly interrupted his thoughts as you set your eyes on his—peering right into his soul.

Draco felt like he was giving you some sort of power over him and the possibility of you using that power and leaving him heartbroken made him feel so very vulnerable.

He couldn't take the vulnerability a second longer.

 "I don't think we should study together anymore." He blurted quickly standing up. “It's for the best.”

"Huh?" You stood up contorting your face in total confusion—wondering just what you had done to piss him off. "What's wrong Draco? Did I do something wrong?" 

"Leave. Now." He muttered with his teeth clenched. 

Please don’t go.

"Just go—leave please."

You couldn’t help but feel a sharp sting burning your insides as you gathered all the books that were on the floor and ran made your way towards hufflepuff dormitories with tears threatening to flood your eyes. 

As soon as you ran off, he punched his wall and muttered out the plethora of angry curses when the impact bruised his knuckles.

~~~~~~~~~~~

During the following week, Draco failed to show up to any of your shared classes after you had refused to talk to him after what happened. 

Even if you did manage to see him walking down the halls or walking with Crabbe and Goyle, you noticed that he looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in days. 

On a Tuesday, Draco looked at the Hufflepuff table during breakfast and when you caught his eye, all you did was look away. 

Everyone at school had their opinions about him—most of them weren’t good opinions. 

But when you were with him under that tree, he seemed different. His smirk was more playful than condescending. It managed to charm you in a way. 

You took a final bite of your toast and gathered all your books, walking to your Potions class. 

His seat still remained empty and you shook your head, trying to snap away from the thoughts of him as you flipped open your book. 

Only it wasn’t your book. 

You didn’t remember writing on the margins and making annotations on your book. 

Running your fingertips along the pages, you flipped to the very first page of the book. 

D. Malfoy was written in ridiculously neat handwriting and you shook your head when you realized that you had grabbed his book with you that day by mistake. 

And just when you were about to put his book away, something fell from in between the pages and fell onto your desk. 

It was the daisy you had woven into your hair the other day. Even in its dried state, the petals remained intact like her had done something to keep them that way.

When class was finally over, you made a quick beeline towards the slytherin dungeons, bumping into people along the way. 

~~~~~~~~~

“Some hufflepuff girl is standing outside the dungeons asking to see you.” Theo shrugged when he saw Draco at the common room sofa. “Says it's urgent.” 

He felt terrified yet so elated as he quickly stood up and made his way outside. 

“Here’s your book.” You said taking a step towards him. “You never told me what’s wrong by the way.” 

“Thank you.” Draco quickly took his book from you and stared at the ground. 

“Why did you stop talking to me y/n?”

“You told me to go away—If I remember correctly.” You said shaking your head at him. “Tell me Draco, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.” He said quietly, meeting your gaze. 

"What do you mean?" 

"You make me feel all weak.....and smiley...and I hate it." He looked at you with agitation.

"Weak?" You ran your  fingers through your hair in confusion. 

"And your ridiculous white tank top." Draco half yelled. 

"What's wrong with my top?" You asked, raising your voice slightly as if you had had enough of this. 

"Nothing is wrong except for the fact that you look stunning in it.” He blurted involuntarily. "It is absolutely distracting when one is trying to study!." 

He watched you open your mouth in shock and close it. Before he could spend another minute trying to solve the riddle that was your expression, you grabbed him by his tie and placed your lips on his. 

His brows furrowed as he kissed you back tenderly. Tasting the sweetness of your lips—pouring out every bit of suppressed passion and adoration he felt for you with his lips.

There was something so strange and euphoric about finally kissing someone he had been longing to kiss for so long. 

Something so magical about holding the person that fits perfectly into his arms. 

Freaking Finally. 

He was slightly disappointed when you slowly backed away, but the glow on your skin and the glossy ness in your eyes made him smile. 

"I guess I'll leave before I realize the consequences of what I have just done." You said softly as you held his face and placed a small peck on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, you found a tiny box and an envelope on your desk when you woke up. Your roommate let you know that Draco Malfoy had stopped by late last night when you were asleep and half begged and half threatened her to leave the box on your desk. 

You slowly opened the box and found a bedazzled and whimsical looking daisy necklace, encrusted with gems.  

A Daisy for my daisy. 

You give me hope.

- D.M

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco Taglist: @dracomalfoyisindahouse @dracomalfoys-wh0re @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @desiredmalfoy @dlmmdl @trainintersection @fa-me @dracoswhore007 @paulina1998 @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @quacksonsssandtea @letoof @rvaldez7569 @loloo22 @emma67 @berriemalfoy @thegaudess @itchywitch33 @louweasleymalfoy @lunar0se10 @savagelysarcasticslytherin @fleursbabe @teawineaddict @thebitchybeatle @malfoyxxdraco23 @fantasyfairysworld @trashyvicks @h0ggyw0ggyh0gwarts @l0vely-lupin @linasylveon @amwitherspoon @the-bisexual-bitch

Love you all sm. (if i was unable to tag you, please look into your privacy settings)

Fell free to send me reuests. My other stories can be found here.

Join my taglist here.

- violet-Anne

[chrisevansjellybeans]

I Love You, You Idiot | Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Here I am, once again writing in my favorite "we're best friends but we won't say we're in love" trope. Someone stop me.

A/N: This does not fall into the TFAWTS timeline!

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angsty-ish

*not my gif*

The bass rumbled through your entire body as you tried to listen to whatever story Sam was telling to the group. You tried with everything in you to listen but the mixture of the loud music of the club and your best friend's hand just casually laying on your exposed thigh was making it very difficult. You noticed the group laugh so you let out a small chuckle but if anyone asked you would not be able to say what was so funny.

“You okay, doll?” You glanced up at Bucky, who’s blue eyes were squinted with concern. His thumb slowly rubbing circles on the spot on your inner thigh where it was rested. “You look a little out of it. Do you need me to take you home?”

Say words, Y/N. You told yourself. But forming sentences was getting harder and harder with each circular pass the pad of his thumb made.

“Uh.”

Good job. Very articulate.

You didn’t want to be that person. The person who falls in love with her super hot best friend, but doesn’t say anything because they don’t want to “ruin the friendship” and then ends up sad and alone because said best friend doesn’t realize the feelings and moves on to someone else. And yet here you were. Being that cliche.

“Guys, I think I’m going to take Y/N home.” You heard Bucky say. Snapping out of whatever trance you were in you shifted away from him so his hand was no longer on your leg.

“No, I’m fine.” You stood up, strong and steady. “See? I was just thinking about some work stuff. But I’m gonna go grab another drink. Anyone want anything?”

The group shook their head and you made your way to the bar, happy to be away for a couple minutes.

Your moment of solace lasted only a few seconds though because you felt Bucky’s presence behind you. He trapped you in by placing his arms on either side of you, his chin landing on your shoulder.

“Wanna take shots?” Bucky’s voice rumbled in your ear. You really hoped he couldn’t feel the goosebumps that arose all over your skin. His breath smelled like a mix of spearmint and whiskey. A scent that if it came from any other man you would have probably been repulsed but on Bucky it was just comforting.

“Only if they’re tequila.” You turned around so you were face to face with him. Bucky gave you a cheeky smile as he waved the bartender over, ordering two shots each and then your regular drink order. As the bartender got your drinks ready, Bucky leaned down on his arms so he was even closer, your faces barely an inch apart.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” Bucky smiled, pressing a slight kiss to your cheek.

“You’re mine too.” You whispered but you knew he heard you. Thank god for that super soldier hearing. Bucky stood back up and you could tell that he was on high alert, making sure that no one bumped into you or was making a beeline in the direction you guys were in.

You turned back around and placed your arms on the bar and leaned against it, your breasts pushing up slightly causing the guy next to you to take notice.

“Hey,” you glanced over as the guy next to you turned his body to fully face you. “You are the most beautiful woman at this bar.” You were amazed at how bold this guy was being. Bucky was still behind you, his arms still on either side of you. To anyone who didn’t know the two of you, it would be safe to assume that you were a couple.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” You smiled at him and leaned against Bucky’s arm a bit, to hopefully give that couple illusion even more.

Bucky was watching the interaction carefully, not yet ready to intervene but there if he needed to. You noticed his vibranium hand flex on the bar as the guy continued to flirt with you, that small action causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“You wanna get out of here, pretty girl?” The guy leaned in even closer to you, officially popping the imaginary bubble you had around you. That was enough for you and for Bucky.

“Alright buddy, ease up.” Bucky pushed a hand against the guy's chest, moving him away from you. “She’s with me.”

“Relax, big guy. Why don’t you let this little mama speak for herself.” The guy stood up from his chair, he was Bucky’s height but you, Bucky and the guy knew that if it came down to it Bucky would kick his ass.

“This little mama doesn’t want to go home with you.” You said sternly. As you finished speaking, the bartender placed the shots and the drinks in front you.

“Bitch.” The guy mumbled, shaking his head and making his way around Bucky.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Bucky grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt. His eyes blazing as he glared down at the asshole. With each second that passed you could tell his hands were tightening around the guy’s shirt.

“I called your little slut girlfriend a bitch.” He spat out. “Maybe control your woman from flirting with other men at-”

Before he could finish, Bucky slammed his fist into his face. You let out a scream as the guy fell to the ground. Everyone’s eyes now focused on the three of you. Bucky reached down and grabbed him, pulling him back up. You had to look away as blood started to pour out of his nose and down his face. It looked like Bucky was about to punch him again but you quickly put your hand on his arm. Bucky looked over at you, his chest heaving, his metal arm shifting under the stress of his grip.

“Bucky, please. It’s not worth it. Look.” You glanced at the crowd that started to form, phones out and recording.

You could see the headlines now: Winter Soldier Bar Brawl: Is he still unhinged?

You spotted Sam making his way over, his face full of concern. Turning back to Bucky you squeezed his bicep. “Please. Let’s go.”

“Buck.” Sam made it over to you. “Go, I’ll take care of it.”

Bucky heaved as he pushed the guy away from him and then grabbed your hand. He quickly threw down a crumpled hundred dollar bill on the bar and didn’t wait for the change as he pulled you through the crowd of recording phones and out of the club.

He quietly pulled you down the street until you guys ended up at least four blocks away from the club.

“I should have killed that guy.” He huffed as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Immediately he winced and pulled his flesh hand out. You hadn’t noticed before but his hand was definitely red and swelling. “Fuck.”

“Oh my god, Bucky,” You sighed as you gently took his hand in yours, turning it over and inspecting any damage. It didn’t look fractured but it was definitely sprained and going to be sore for a while. “You could have broken your hand, you fucking idiot.”

“It will heal in a couple hours. And you’re welcome.” Bucky scowled in your direction. “Next time, I’ll just let him shit talk you all night.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that. If you would have waited another twenty seconds we would have gotten our drinks and probably wouldn't have seen that man again.” You glared. “Instead you had to turn into a cave man and beat on your chest and prove your dominance.” You tried to sound tough but your voice was shaking given how cold you were. You had left your jacket back in the club.

“I wasn’t proving shit, Y/N.” Bucky snapped as he pulled his hand out of yours, sliding his leather jacket off and putting it around your shoulders in a huff. “Maybe it infuriates me to hear someone talk about you like that.”

“Well it’s not all cake and ice cream for me, but you don’t see me throwing god damn punches.” You sighed as you wrapped the jacket tighter around your body. “This is going to be everywhere tomorrow.”

“Who gives a fuck.” Bucky muttered.

“You should!” You fumed. “It’s not a great look to have you out here punching random guys at bars, Bucky. Especially over nothing that important.”

“Stop talking like that. God, it’s like you are the only fucking person who doesn’t see how goddamn special and important you are.” Bucky hissed as his hand continued to throb. “So please just..stop talking.”

You snapped your mouth shut as you shot daggers at Bucky which he gladly returned. You turned away from him, calling a car to take you back to his place. You both waited in silence, Bucky only making the occasional foul exclamation whenever his hand hurt. Finally for what seemed hours the car finally pulled up. Bucky, always the gentleman even when angry, held the door open for you as you slid in closing it gently but not making any moves to get in the car. You looked up at him through the window confused but he only shook his head and tapped the car, signally for the driver to leave.

“Can you please wait.” You turned to the driver who let out an annoyed huff.

“Five minutes lady. It’s almost bar time.”

Quickly you opened the door not stepping completely outside, the air having an unforgiving bite to it now.

“Get in the fucking car, Bucky.”

“You go, you have a key. I just need some time.”

“You can take some time in your apartment. Just get in the car.” You retorted.

“I’m not getting in that car.”

“James, I swear to god.” You were fully out of the car now. You slammed the door shut causing the driver to cast an annoyed look your way. “What is your problem? We argue all the time, it’s not that serious.”

“It’s not about the argument,” he grumbled. “It’s about the fact that you are so completely oblivious to how fucking perfect you are and how it wasn’t just that guy that was staring at you but every other guy in that bar. And how angry it makes me that I just want to go up to every single of one of them and tell them to put their dicks away because you’re mine and only mine.”

Your breath hitched as you processed his words.

“And I’m doing everything in power to not just shake you until you realize that I love you, and not just as my friend.”

“I-”

“I can’t believe I just told you that.” Bucky shook his head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Get in the car, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

Bucky turned and started walking down the street.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You yelled after him. “If you don’t think that I love you back, then you really are a bigger idiot than I thought.” Bucky stopped in his tracks.

“What did you just say?” He asked as he faced you again. He stayed where he was but you could see the tension start to leave his body.

“I said,” You smiled as you let out a long breath. “That I love you, you idiot.”

Before you knew it, Bucky was over to you and he had you scooped up in his arms. His mouth moved feverishly against yours, every emotion that the two of you had for each other pouring out in this one kiss. Your hands found their way up his chest and around his neck. He let out a low moan that sent vibrations through your whole body.

“Alright, lady, I’m leaving.” You both ignored the driver as he waved you off and pulled out and down the street. But you couldn’t care less because you were finally in the arms of your best friend.

“Say it again.” Bucky whispered against your lips.

“I love you, you idiot.”

[howlinglucas]

He hadn't picked up the cat before; it struck Lucas how strange he smelled a lot closer to him. It occurred to the lycan all of a sudden that someone might actually own the cat and, if they did, it was definitely a druid. The little feline had the scent of The Pyramid and druids all over him. As it was, Lucas didn't know a single druid. The most thought he'd ever spared the species was to feel bad about Alek's family issues every once in a while. "You can climb up if you want," Lucas said as he patted his own shoulder. But he held the cat as he used to hold the strays back in Mexico, walking down the street.

"You're lucky you're a cat, little guy," he muttered. "Do you even remember your own mother? It really sucks when they die... When they die a second time? Even worse." There was a small mart across the street and Lucas made a beeline for it. If they got angry he brought a cat in, he'd just give them the look that made people back up. "You know you're welcomed back at my place any time right? I never stopped leaving your food and water out."

After befriending Sonny, Catlas had become accustomed to being picked up so when Lucas bent down the cat didn't hiss and scratch at him like he might have in the past. Instead, Catlas purred, a small engine in the lycan's arms as the feline's need for affection superseded the sudden shock to the cat's delicate sensory system. "Meow." Catlas said, indicating that he'd both missed Lucas and was ready to eat whatever it was that the lycan ate. Catlas could smell the other's sadness, loneliness, maybe even grief; he understood that too.

[hansensgirl]

salvatore. | vii.

summary. | Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

warnings. | NONCON/DUBCON, dark themes, manipulation, gaslighting, arguments, toxic relationships (reader and steve), cheating, nightmares, violence, mentions of death/murder, spying, voyeurism, stalking, use of cameras, angst, fluff, dark!bucky, protectiveness, obsessiveness, creepy bucky, perversion, kidnapping, choking (not the kinky kind), passing out, suffocation, and more. 18+, MINORS DNI.

word count. | 3.4k

pairings. | Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers.

a/n. | we’re nearing the end!! please read all the warnings before you click the ‘keep reading’ button! don’t forget to enjoy and don’t forget to reblog! salvatore masterlist.

“I’ll be back before you know it, doll, don’t worry. I’ll call you and text you nonstop, okay?” Bucky reassured, pecking your lips between each word of his. You pulled further away from him and laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Where are you going, again?” you asked, hating yourself for forgetting so easily. It was almost like he never even told you. “That bachelor party, remember? For my friend Sam?” he repeated, almost as if he had told you billions of times before.

Truth be told, you didn’t remember.

“Oh, that’s right! Okay, baby, have a good trip and stay safe. Tell your friend Sam I said congratulations––wait, you have a friend named Sam?” you questioned, not knowing of this friend. You may have been quite forgetful but you didn’t recall him speaking of any friend by the name of Sam. “Yep, but I don’t talk about him too much,” Bucky informed, and you tilted your head. You opened your mouth to ask him another question, but he checked the time on his wrist before sharply inhaling.

“Gotta go now, doll, don’t want to be too late,” he told you, kissing you once more. “Love you, bye!” he shouted as he closed the door behind him. “Bye!” you called back, and you were left all by yourself in his home. He already gave you a tour a week ago, the day after he spoke to you about your nightmare. You never slept after that, but it wasn’t shocking. That kiss was everything you could’ve ever dreamt of.

You felt like Sleeping Beauty, finally getting that kiss from Prince Charming that you needed so badly. You sighed with a half-smile on your face, and you could already feel boredom settling into your bones. With Bucky, every second of the day was filled with fun. Whether it be through stupid conversations or through needless movie commentary. You hadn’t written in all that time, and it was just a tad bit upsetting for you.

Your notebook was untouched, and so was your nice fountain pen along with your computer. It wasn’t like you had writer’s block, and it wasn’t like you had no motivation to finish your first chapter… No, wait, it was exactly like that. Every time you thought of your story, you’d have to stifle a loud, loud groan that would be savoured for when you stub your toe or when you’d accidentally burn your hand on the stove.

You didn’t resent your story. It just felt like a burden at that point in your life. But with nothing else to do other than writing, you felt oh so pained. Not physical pain, no, just the kind that would be a burden. You were sure that the floorboards were tired of feeling your feet stomp on them throughout most days. Sometimes, you’d sit on the stairs and hum to yourself—some sort of random rhythm that you would then mess up and forget about.

“What to do, what to do, what to do…” you whispered to yourself, hooking your thumbs through the loops of your jeans. If it weren’t for Bucky and his easily distracted behaviour, you could’ve had a belt there. But mistakes were made, and even though you offered to help, you officially knew then that Bucky never wanted you in his basement. Not in the past, not in the present, and definitely not in the future.

You joked around, saying that he just has dead bodies buried behind the shelves that were covered in cobwebs. But his forced chuckle had you apologizing quickly, and he told you to go drink some water and throw out your energy drink. You did exactly that, and he was back to his happy self. Spewing stupid puns like hilarity was his college major, with a big silly grin on his face.

Steve was always stoic, so maybe that was why you weren’t used to the almost overwhelming (yet lovely) company of Bucky.

Though Bucky spoke most hours of the day, you never heard of this man named ‘Sam.’ You had hung onto every single word of Bucky’s whenever he spoke to you. Even if he was repeating himself most of the time, you still made sure to listen to everything. He had never spoken about his friend to you, ever. As a matter of fact, you didn’t know much about him personally. You knew bits and pieces about his life as a soldier, but you didn’t know anything else.

He had no family pictures, no childhood stories, no generation-old recipes, nothing. Absolutely nothing. It weirded you out because he knew every bit about you. Even things that you’d never tell your mother, even if you had to. You didn’t even know about any past girlfriends of his… Except for one. He’d call her by the name of ‘Natalia’ but only when cursing or spewing out on the grave swears that could have someone rolling even if they didn’t decay yet.

Only a man with something to hide wouldn’t tell you anything about him, right? Because that was what Steve did, and he had one too many things hidden from you.

You spun around, making a full beeline for the stairs that didn’t creak under your feet (unlike your staircase). You envied Bucky for that, but you also envied him for more practical, more reasonable things. Such as the way he just couldn’t fall for pranks easily or the way he’d get something right almost all the time. You gripped the railing tightly, careful not to fall as you were climbing up the steps as quickly as you could.

Cardio wasn’t really your thing, not then, at least. You preferred simple stretches and long walks. Maybe the occasional weight lifting, but your little coloured dumbbells never did much. You were faced with the first bedroom at the top of the stairs. It was a guest bedroom, and he told you that it was pointless to go inside and clean it. At the time, it made sense. But maybe he was just trying to avoid having you go in there and see something you shouldn’t have seen.

You exhaled shakily and pushed the door open. You were met with a gust of cool air only because the window was left open. Bucky did that a lot, only because his home would become predominantly more humid than usual. You didn’t search the drawers or anything else in that room as well as the other guest bedrooms because you knew you’d find nothing in there.

There was only one bedroom left to check, the one that you and Bucky shared. It was a work in progress. Not in the sense that you were renovating or something along those lines. It was a bit… bland, to say the least. Not one piece of that room felt like home. You asked Bucky if he had any mementos or paintings to keep, but he shook his head and walked out. He wasn’t a very personal man, and it had more flaws than perfections.

You turned the doorknob and walked inside, taking in the notes of that vanilla body spray that Bucky loved so much and the lingering scent of his aftershave. You went to his bed and lifted the fluffy mattress up. Nothing. You gently placed it back down, hoping that your muscles wouldn’t give out. You opened up some of the bedside drawers, and you even peaked underneath them. Nothing. You let out a groan that was also a sigh of relief.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to find something bad or if you wanted to find nothing at all.

You slowly brought yourself up to your feet. You strode a few steps over to the closet and slid the mirror door to the other side. Half of the closet was filled with your clothes, and the other half was filled with his clothes. He had more leather jackets and sweaters than anything. Steve had the opposite of that problem. The blond hero loved his white tank tops and his white t-shirts. The dryer would constantly shrink them, and you could never complain about that.

Neither could Natasha.

You ran your hands between all the pockets and fabric in your closet, but you didn’t find anything. You snapped your hands back, bringing some hangers down to the ground. “Fuck,” you gritted out, looking down at the mess. You wordlessly kept staring at it, all while flailing your arm around to find the door. You grabbed it and slid it close. You had more pressing matters to deal with.

You didn’t check the dresser because you’d know if Bucky ever touched it. Your next best bet was to check the bathroom, even if it might’ve been fruitless. You searched the cupboards underneath and above the sink. Still, you only found freshly purchased products that you would find yourself stocking up on at least once a month—pads, tampons, shampoo, conditioner, razors, and everything else you needed, not him. Nothing there belonged to Bucky.

You once again didn’t know whether you should be elated or frustrated.

You dragged yourself out of the bathroom and out of the bedroom. You wore a pout on your face, resembling a little spoiled kid in a candy shop. In the hallway, you were at a crossroads. “Goddammit,” you groaned, squeezing your hands into fists. You walked down the stairs, not even bothering to hold onto the railing or the wall. You always loved to run your hand against the wall, especially when you were descending down the stairs.

You knew that he was too smart to hide anything in the living room and the kitchen. You felt like you were losing your mind. Even though you couldn’t find anything, you knew Bucky was hiding something from you. It was the same gut feeling that you had when you were with Steve. You listened to it, and you were right. Therefore, you believed that you were right about Bucky being secretive.

You stood at the bottom of the stairs, with your hands on your hips and your bottom lip between your teeth. You didn’t know where else to check. The garden seemed idiotic, and none of Bucky’s floorboards creaked in a peculiar manner. No can or jar in his cabinets looked off, and his shelves didn’t seem like they could move. His stack of books about the human mind didn’t seem fake either.

You spun in a circle, and so did your mind. Everything merged into a colourful blur, and you nearly missed the large splash of white that suddenly intruded into your vision. You stopped moving and looked over just to see the door to the basement. The door was never opened, even when Bucky was downstairs doing the laundry. You smiled to yourself. It was perfect, and it made so much sense for him to hide something in there.

The airport was loud. Families and couples yelling at each other and the sound of suitcase wheels against the floor. A lovely voice came on the intercom, announcing a flight that was departing. From New York to some city in Arizona. In Bucky's hands were his passport, his ticket, and his backpack. Bucky wasn’t sitting in one of those enormously uncomfortable chairs that everyone else was.

He was meters away from the waiting area, contemplating whether the trip was a good idea or not. He didn’t need to be plagued with guilt by what happened to Natalia. He was doing much better now that she was gone. The gothic house probably needed to be cleared of cobwebs and creepy crawlers, but he could’ve just hired someone for that. The only reason why he was contemplating his trip was because of you.

You seemed to eat up every lie he spewed since he met you, but you didn’t appear to buy his cover-up for the flight. Bucky never felt bad about lying to you because you needed to be protected. You were bawling in your bedroom about your job, taking insults from your mother and getting carelessly drunk with a stranger just before he thoroughly swept in on his white horse. You needed him; you always did.

Bucky knew that you’d let your paranoia and suspicions get the best of you. He was glad you allowed that to happen with Steve, but he wasn’t going to let it fly when it came down to himself. “Fuck,” he grumbled before turning on his heels and making his way out of the area and out of the airport. He had to protect you from the harsh truth, only because he’s your knight in shining armour.

You didn’t grab ahold of the railing because it was made of wood. Splinters were the worst; you simply just loathed them like anybody else. You placed your hand against the wall for support and tried your hardest to not make too much noise. Basements always gave you the creeps. The air in the room was thick and heavy, week-old vapour stuck in there, and you wondered how the wood hadn’t begun to rot yet.

Your fingers clashed with what seemed to feel like a light switch. You were at the bottom of the stairs, an old carpet resting beneath your feet to protect you from the cold floor. Your nose was filled with the scent of different detergents and softeners that Bucky would use. Against the wall were the washing machine and the dryer. Next to the dryer was a small, worn-down sink. It was clearly stained and dirty, and you wondered how old the house was.

In the corner was a little wire deck shelf. On it were boxes and many other random objects. You managed to push yourself into the small space that was between the washing machine and the rack. You grabbed the first and the only box on the highest level, surprised that it was lighter than it seemed. You looked inside, only to find old leather gloves and a first aid kit. The white of the kit had a bit of dried blood on it, and the gloves were creased.

You grimaced, but you figured that they were from before he retired. You put the box back and reached for the other one that was two levels down from the top. It was much heavier than the previous one, and you were scared that you would drop it. You peered into the box and found a sleek black gun. Your eyes widened, and you nearly let go of the six faces of cardboard.

But it also made sense for him to own a gun. You didn’t want to think of the possible reasons to scare yourself, so you pretended as if you didn’t see it and put it back. The rest of the shelf just had little old objects that seemed like they came from a thrift store or a pawn shop. One was a small porcelain deer in a pink skirt with glitter on its spots. It made you smile; of course, Bucky would have something like that. The deer’s bright doe eyes looked up at you, but they seemed more sad than anything else.

Though you marvelled at the statue at first, it eventually made you feel uneasy. You tore your eyes away from it and slowly made your way out of the cramped space. You didn’t know where else to look, and your gut feeling didn’t seem to go away. Though the lightbulb was turned on, the room was still dark. The area next to the staircase was particularly shadowed, and your stomach dropped just a bit as you stared at it.

You swallowed thickly and nervously, but you were also elated at the fact that you finally found somewhere worthy of checking. You stepped into the darkness, and you pulled your phone out of the pocket of your jeans. You turned the flashlight feature on and shined the light throughout the space. The ground was barren, and so were the walls. Dust covered them, though.

You rested your off-hand against the side of the staircase, sighing to yourself before realizing that there was a space underneath the stairs. You bent down and shone the light there, moving it around to try and find something. When that was of no help, you stretched the hand that was on the stairs to try and feel for something, anything. Your digits brushed up against what felt like a shoebox. Your heart jumped, and you fumbled around trying to grab it.

You dragged the box out from the staircase while you bit your bottom lip. You sat down on the dirty floor, and you hesitated in opening up the box. You wondered if it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, to just ignore your intuition and to trust Bucky. But you knew better than that. You really did. Your shaky hand lifted the top of the box, and you set it down on the ground.

You pointed your flashlight inside the box, and you gasped loudly. It was filled to the top with different things that were oh so familiar. Maybe it was because they belonged to you. A pair of pink panties that you thought your washing machine ate was at the top. You took them out of the box just to find a few old notebooks of yours. You believed they were under your bed, but it seemed to be otherwise.

A few lipsticks and a hairbrush were there, too. You didn’t recall them being missing, and you certainly didn’t remember giving them to Bucky because you never did. You dug everything of yours out of the box. Polaroids, more panties, jewelry, polaroids of yourself and your body, as well as much more. At the bottom was a bunch of folded papers in a Ziploc bag.

You pushed the square slider at the top to open the bag, and you pulled out the papers. You opened them up just to be faced with a file detailing almost everything about you. There were pictures of you around your house, at work and doing other things. One was of you showering, and you felt sick to your stomach. You didn’t know whether you should cry, call someone, or be angry.

But what you did know was that you needed to get as far away from Bucky as possible. You quickly shoved everything back into the box, and you put the lid back on. You grabbed it and placed it under your arm before trying to stand up. You unlocked your phone and searched through the screen for the Phone app. You needed to call your mom, maybe ask her if you could stay with her for a bit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you panicked, not being able to find her contact.

You turned around and managed to click on her name, and you began to make your way up the stairs. You clicked the call button and put the phone on speaker. You listened closely as it rang, and you waited for the ‘ringing’ to turn into a timer. But you didn’t look where you were going, which is why you let out a scream as you bumped into something. No, someone.

You looked up slowly, just to see Bucky staring at you. His face was filled with hurt, and you heard his metal arm whir as he clenched his fist. “Where do you think you’re going, doll?” he asked innocently, smiling at you. “Uhm, I- I was just going to go eat lunch!” you lied to him. Your voice was shaky, and so was your entire body. You felt nauseous, and your legs felt as if they were going to give out.

“Good, I’m glad you’re going to eat lunch. It’s important to have all your meals, y’know. But do you really need to go through my things and steal, too?” Bucky questioned, taking a step towards you. “Please let me go, Bucky. I won’t tell anyone!” you promised, ready to sob and beg to him. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “No can do, doll. Can’t let my best girl go,” he exasperatedly explained to you, almost as if you didn’t learn about his stalking ways.

His hand came up to your face, and he stroked your cheek. The metal felt weird against your sweating skin. He moved his hand down to your neck, and he suddenly wrapped his fingers around your throat. You dropped your phone and the box, and you wrapped your hands around his wrist. “Shh, it’s okay, you just need to take a quick break from reality. That’s all,” Bucky cooed, and you found yourself struggling to breathe. Your vision began to darken, and you eventually passed out in his arms.

[jaskiersvalley]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing and your stories, I'm so glad I found your blog, now I always have something new to read!! ❤️❤️❤️

I remember watching you blitz through the blog, leaving likes on a lot of the stories. It really made my day! Now, who knows how many months late, I bring you some silly Witchers and their mutagens.

Kaer Morhen’s Open Door Policy

When Jaskier was invited to Kaer Morhen, he’d thought the open door policy that Geralt mentioned meant that anyone was welcome to stay for the winter. It warmed his heart that the Wolves were so welcoming and generous with their winter lodgings. What Jaskier didn’t anticipate was that said open door policy was a literal thing. He arrived in Kaer Morhen with Geralt, they were stomping snow off their boots when someone rounded the corner at some speed. Slowing down, the man made a beeline for them.

“Lambert,” Geralt greeted before he was veritably bowled over in a hug. If Jaskier squinted, he could have sworn Geralt was given a long sniff and maybe even a lick, perhaps over the lips. But surely he must have seen wrong because Jaskier himself wasn’t given such a greeting.

Two more figures appeared and introductions were made to Eskel and Vesemir. It was quite nice really, even if a lonely winter with just the five of them. However, if gave Jaskier a chance to get used to the ways of the keep. Mostly, it was learning to leave doors open a crack and how to keep the hinges well oiled at all times. If he didn’t, it was guaranteed someone would turn up.

At first Jaskier had thought it was because he wasn’t trusted, not an accepted member of the pack. But that thought was quickly thrown out the window, especially when he was dragged into the cuddle piles in front of fires. Those were rather nice, if a little too warm and sweaty for his liking. Yet, every single time he forgot about keeping a door open, whenever it snicked shut behind him or clicked open as he stepped through, within ten seconds one of the other residents appeared. Usually it was Lambert, rounding the corner at quite a pace even as he tried to make it look like he hadn’t dropped everything and run. It was rather offensive in a way, at least that was what Jaskier thought until he was sat quietly in the library, Lambert browsing for something when his head snapped up all of a sudden and he was off at full pelt. That wasn’t the first time Jaskier saw him running. On more than one occasion Lambert almost bowled him over in corridors as he rushed towards whatever he had heard.

“Doors,” Geralt had explained quietly one night. “If we hear a door open or close, there’s this overwhelming urge to go see who it is, what had happened.”

Now that Jaskier knew, he paid more attention. Any door had Lambert running. Much more sedately, Eskel would usually follow, lumbering towards the source of the noise and trying desperately to look like he wasn’t doing exactly like Lambert. However, he had a weakness, as Jaskier discovered. The cupboard doors in the kitchen. If Jaskier, or anyone else for that matter, happened to go and look in one, Eskel was bound to bumble into the kitchen within a short space of time, looking bashfully hopeful. It was cute, Jaskier even started indulging and giving Eskel snacks because the way he softened and smiled at the offering was far too endearing.

“You’re only encouraging him,” Vesemir grumbled as he watched Jaskier hand Eskel half a slice of honey coated bread. Rather than argue, Jaskier gave Vesemir the other half, not commenting on how the old Wolf appeared for seemingly no reason in the kitchen. The treat certainly silenced him.

For a first winter, it was a good one. Jaskier was satisfied when he left that he was getting the hang of the odd open doors policy. It was the next winter that proved to test his patience. As well as the Wolves, there was a Cat there too. Haughty and aloof, Aiden spent most of his time perched up high somewhere. He slowly warmed up to Jaskier though, cautious at first. However, Aiden seemed to be rather fond of the open door policy, only ever opening or closing a door when he wanted attention. And that was rather frequently. More than once a day Lambert would go running because Aiden slammed a door somewhere, wanting to play.

It was all very well until Jaskier had to use the privy. That was one door that the Wolves learned not to run to. Even though Lambert still twitched, head swivelling it its direction before grumbling and returning to what he was doing. Jaskier was trying to just have a peaceful moment to relieve himself, a considerate two stalls down from an occupied booth when he heard someone else come in.

“Lamb?” Aiden’s voice drifted through the air, a little plaintive and lost.

“What?” Not all that unusual for Lambert to sound irritated.

“What are you doing?”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up at the question. What could Lambert be doing in the privy other than the obvious one of four things?

“I’m taking a shit.” Well, that answered which of the four it was but Jaskier could heard the sounds of a body leaning heavily against the door.

“Oh.” Aiden sounded almost disappointed. “I thought I heard some rustling like a snack being opened.”

“I promise I’m not fucking eating while taking a shit. Who eats in here anyway?” Grumbling, Lambert scoffed. “Don’t tell me, I bet it’s Geralt.”

Jaskier couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. “Geralt most certainly does not eat in the privy.”

The sound of a body moving and Jaskier knew Aiden was stood outside the door to his cubicle. “Jaskier. You’re in there.”

“No I’m not.”

For a moment there was confused silence before Lambert growled. “I swear Aiden, if you don’t leave us alone-” his threat was lost as Aiden moved back to Lambert’s door and there was an odd scratching sound. “No. Aiden. Don’t you dare. You can’t sit on my lap here! Not again. We almost broke it last time. Get out. Get out!”

The sound of a door being kicked shut and a huff from Aiden gave Jaskier a good idea of what had jut happened and he was scared to go out. However, not a minute later another voice joined the fray.

“What happened?” Eskel asked.

Jaskier buried his face in his hands in despair. So much for a peaceful piss.

The whole door thing was becoming quite ridiculous. Especially with Aiden slamming them to get Lambert’s attention. And then being offended whenever he encountered a closed door. Those were all gently knocked on and a head poked through if there was no answer. It meant nothing was private and Vesemir had to use a broom to get Aiden off the top of his wardrobe one evening when the Cat had gone missing all afternoon. He seemed to have no respect or care for anything, not when it came to prime napping spots.

It got to the stage that the common areas had their doors removed and Vesemir started hanging heavy furs in their place. Which did actually make the rooms warmer and there was no more needless running around. Though Eskel still bumbled into the kitchen in the hopes of a shared snack. Jaskier had rapidly cottoned on to the fact Vesemir fought such an urge in a novel and simple way. He was almost always either in the kitchen or within sight of it. So he could see if there was an opportunity for a snack without having to move. The old Wolf was clever, Jaskier had to give him that.

Some days, Jaskier did crave a bit of silence and solitude. Those were rare and far between days but they did happen. When they came, he took to wandering through the crumbling corridors of Kaer Morhen, trying to imagine what it had been like in its glory days. Quite amazing, he should think. So lost was he in his musings, Jaskier didn’t notice until too late that the floor wasn’t solid below his feet. It gave way and he fell with a yelp, landing awkwardly on his ankle. The pain was quite blinding, rendering him into a whimpering mess, throat tight and unable to call for help. Even when he managed to gather himself up, it didn’t seem to help. His voice just didn’t carry and the Wolves probably couldn’t hear him. It was cold, dark and Jaskier was in pain which made it difficult to think. There was a door not far from him and, in a moment of sheer desperation, he pulled himself towards it on shaking arms. Near enough, he reached for it and, with all his might, slammed it shut. It bounced open from the force and echoed through the room. Mustering up a little more energy, Jaskier shoved it again and the crack of door hitting frame made him wince. That would have to do. Jaskier managed to lie down, pillowing his head on his arms, shivering.

His hopes were answered when he heard the steady stomp of running feet skidding to a halt.

“The fuck?” There was the sound of a deep inhale as the area was scented. “Where you got to bard?”

“Down here,” Jaskier called back and squinted towards the hole he had fallen through. “My ankle.”

“Why would you do that? Wait. Never mind.” Lambert turned away and, a hand cupped against his cheek and lips he let out what could only be called a howl before his attention was back on Jaskier. “What did we tell you about wandering off?”

More feet, more people and Jaskier teared up in relief. He watched as Aiden hopped down the hole and took stock of the damage. A soft cry of pain left Jaskier as he was picked up and his ankle was jostled. In a few, seemingly easy, jumps, Aiden was passing Jaskier over to Geralt who cradled him against his chest. There was a still body-warm jacket draped over Jaskier and he burrowed into it, finding Eskel’s scent mixing with Geralt a comfort.

In the infirmary he was patched up, fussed over and, in the end, bundled into a pile in front of a fire where the others snuggled protectively up against him. By the next morning all the doors were back in place and Vesemir ground his teeth when Aiden slammed the kitchen one for Lambert’s attention.