#hi hello while your here can I offer you some tea?

[sun-e-chips]

CRUNCH, your silly water park au is so yummy, and the designs are so pretty and neat augh, really just broke into your ask box to complement your silly little au

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!! Thank you for breaking in I’m munching your complements!

The boys are very flattered

[moonstruckme]

HII I LOVE YOUR WORK SM!! I literally can't stop reading them 😭 I love you so much for making all of them !!

May I ask if we could get more of shy Remus?? As soon as I read the first one I immediately fell in love !

Thank you so much!! 🫶🏽

Hi lovely, thank you! Sorry this took me so long, I've wanted to write it ever since it came into my inbox but it took me forever to come up with an idea </3

cw: very vague implication of smut

shy!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Remus looks surprised when he opens the door, and immediately after that embarrassed. For what, you never know. 

“Hi,” he says, lips curving into a smile as if of their own volition. “Um, I haven’t missed anything, have I?” 

You laugh. “No, you’re fine. I was just nearby and thought I might return your jumper.” 

It’s a half-truth. You’re ambushing him and you know it, but Remus’ reticent disposition means you know next to nothing about his life and after weeks of dating you’re really itching for a peek behind the curtain. You’ve brought chocolate muffins to make up for it. 

“Oh, that’s thoughtful of you.” Remus’ voice is soft as always, that adorable smile still playing on his lips until you both hear footsteps bounding down the stairs inside. He glances behind him, moving a bit more in front of the door. “While you’re here, maybe we could go have coffee or—” 

“Who’s that?” 

The voice seems like a sound of much dread for Remus, if his expression is anything to go off of. He ignores it, speaking only to you. 

“Or there’s a park just down the way—”

“Remus.” It’s a different voice this time, yet the effect upon Remus’ countenance is the same. “Who do you have there?” 

“Hi!” you say over his head, mutinous. 

“A girl?” Remus’ entire body seems to sag in resignation. “Remus Lupin, stop hiding her from us immediately.” 

“Sod off.” He says over his shoulder, as brash as you’ve ever heard him. It’s a bit thrilling. 

“I will not. Reveal your secrets, you dirty dog.” 

You actually do feel quite bad for Remus, a blush spreading all the way up to the tips of his ears, but he lets go of the doorframe, letting himself be wrestled out of the way. 

“Hello.” A dark-haired boy weasels his way into Remus’ place, giving you a salacious up-down. You raise your eyebrows at him, delighted. So this is who Remus associates with when he’s not with you. “My, you’re a pretty thing. And you’re here to see Remus?” 

“I am,” you confirm. “I’m here to bring back his jumper.” 

“Which would lead one to believe, “a second boy appears behind the first, both of them keeping Remus from reclaiming his spot at the door, “that you’ve seen him before.” 

You laugh. “I have. We’ve been dating a few weeks now.” 

“Remus!” The second bellows, eyes blowing comically wide behind his glasses. “Weeks? Weeks, and you haven’t said a word. How could you?” 

“I don’t suppose you have a bit of time on your hands,” the first boy says smoothly. 

“I’ve…” You check the time. “I do, actually.” 

He grins, wolflike. You’re not sure who the prey is. You worry it’s your date. 

“Yes!” The one with the glasses is effervescent, brimming with eagerness. It’s contagious, you find; you’re smiling too. “You have to come in, please.” 

You’re dying to, but you peer past them, locking eyes with Remus. He looks to be wishing for a swift and painless death, but he gives you a soft smile anyways. Nods. 

“Sure,” you say, “I could join you for a bit.” 

Some of the boisterous energy settles as they usher you inside, the need for urgency vanquished now that they’ve got you in their clutches. Begrudgingly, Remus introduces you, and the other two hassle him about taking off your coat and showing you where to put your shoes before he gets a chance to do either. Soon you’re settled comfortably in the armchair they tell you is Remus’ favorite. 

“Can I make you a cuppa?” Remus asks, and James and Sirius both oooh as he rolls his eyes. You nod at him, eyeing the other two amusedly. 

“He must really like you,” James says, “if he’s offering to make you tea.” 

“Hence why you’re not getting any,” Remus says over his shoulder as he stalks for the kitchen. 

“Prick,” Sirius calls after him. “We didn’t want any anyways.” But he crosses his arms, sulking back against the couch cushions. James, on the other hand, leans towards you. 

“So,” he says severely, “what are your intentions with our Remus?” 

A quiet sound of distress comes from the kitchen, but you all ignore it. “Your Remus?” you ask. 

James nods self-assuredly. “We’ve known him since primary school. If you two get married, I’ll be the one giving him away.” 

You raise your eyebrows. Remus’ head pops out of the kitchen, glaring daggers in a way you didn’t know he knew how. “You will not.” 

“What?” James looks gutted. 

“That’s not the point.” Sirius waves both of his friends off, though James looks like he would very much like to continue on the topic. “Tell us about you two, gorgeous. Where did you meet, how long have you been dating, has Remus told you where he hides his chocolates?” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Remus says, coming back with your tea. He passes it to you carefully, handle out, and both you and James hiss at him for holding the hot part. 

“We haven’t even gotten her to answer anything yet,” Sirius complains. 

“It’s not her fault you haven’t given her the chance.” Remus perches on the armrest of the chair. It's probably so he can avoid sitting next to his nosy friends, but pride swells in your chest anyway at being chosen. You take his hand, and he squeezes your fingers in response. 

Sirius coos. “Only a few weeks of dating and he’s already holding her hand. I’m so proud.” 

You grin up at Remus, knowing what you could say to really shock his friends but not wanting to embarrass him further. He’s already flustered enough that his scars stand out in stark contrast against his flushed skin, but his look softens as he meets your eyes. Something about him eases, a small smile curving his lips. 

You decide it’s permission enough. 

“You’ve been a bit bolder than that, haven’t you, handsome?” 

James and Sirius erupt in hoots and hollers. Remus looks like he might well fall off the edge of the chair for how stiff he’s gotten. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. It’s burning. “I’m not trying to torment you. We can go be alone in your room, if you like.” 

“No-o.” James waggles a finger at you. “Now that we know what you’re up to, you won’t be getting him alone in our house. You’re set on corrupting him!”

[fuctacles]

<< six | 😺 | eight >>

"Yes? Hello, officer? There's a man in my apartment." 

Eddie stirs awake, his surroundings coming back to him in hazy waves.

"What?" he slurs out, blinking to clear his vision.

"Oh, I was just telling the officer that I've found a man sleeping on my couch," Stephanie says with a troubled expression, hovering over him.

Over the couch that he fell asleep on.

He sits up so suddenly he loses his balance and falls back against the cushion.

"I'm so sorry, please don't call the cops—!"

Stephanie immediately shakes her hands, which are free of a phone.

"I was joking, I was joking!" she reassures him quickly. "I'm sorry." She smiles apologetically, taking a seat next to him. "I guess that wasn't the best way to wake up someone." 

"No," Eddie chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Especially not an ex-drug dealer," he huffs dryly. 

Steph cocks her head with a surprised "huh" and only then does Eddie realize what he has just blurted out. 

"Ah, shit. Am I ruining my good neighbor status?" he winces.

"Not at all," Steph shakes her head, and gently pats his knee. He zeroes his focus on her hand when she decides to rest it there on his jean-clad leg. 

"I know my nice neighbor Eddie, not the drug dealer one," she smiles reassuringly. "What made you turn around? If you don't mind me asking," she squeezes his knee and retrieves her hand to lean back more comfortably on the couch. One of her cats, Garfield, jumps on her lap for a greeting, and Eddie realizes she's still wearing her jacket. He looks at the clock on the wall and realizes it's almost midnight. 

"Sorry, I'm holding you back, you're clearly tired," she backtracks quickly, watching his eyes dart around. But Eddie shakes his head.

"Nah, I just took an invigorating nap." She laughs at that and he can't help but smile as well. "I'd assume you're tired after traveling."

"I took an invigorating nap on the bus," she smiles, petting her cat. Arwen finally decides she's not above greeting her human and jumps in next to her as well, occupying Stephanie's other hand. 

Eddie reminds himself not to get jealous of felines.

"I managed to graduate," he says and when Steph looks at him in confusion, he adds: "I dealt in high school to save money for my band, thought that was my only route. But then I did graduate, on my third try, and the art teacher pulled some strings, asked around, and told me I could go study music. The guys forced me to go for it," he smiles at the memory. "My band, I mean. They said at least one of us should know some theory," he chuckles. 

"That's very nice of them," Stephanie comments. 

"Yeah. The bastards followed me after high school too." He grins. 

"And I still haven't heard your music," she sighs wistfully. 

"I'll bring a tape next time," he promises. 

"You better."

They sit in silence for a while, only the cat's purring filling the night ambiance. 

"Want some tea?"

"I guess I should go."

They speak over each other, eyes wide when they meet awkwardly. They chuckle, and Eddie can feel his cheeks warm up.

"Or I can get us a beer? Since you're not an old lady," she offers, spotting the empty bottle on the table. "Unless you really need to go."

"Beer sounds good. Considering there are no old ladies here," he smiles charmingly, daring her to protest. 

Steph doesn't say anything, only rolls her eyes and gently nudges Garfield from her lap onto the couch cushions. She scratches Eddie's head when she passes, thankfully missing the way it causes his whole body to shiver. 

"Won't your uncle be worried where you are?" she asks from the kitchen, giving Eddie the space he needs to collect himself. 

"I told him I'd wait for you," he answers, scratching Garfield and trying to forget how good it felt when done to him. "Also, I don't have a curfew anymore. Never had, in fact. Not with Wayne."

"Lucky you." She steps back into the room, handing him a chilled bottle. "How long have you been living with him?"

"Since high school," he answers before taking a swig. "Spent a short time in a halfway house before that. My parents couldn't handle me anymore, but they managed to reach my uncle and he took me in."

"The hell do you mean 'couldn't handle you'?" Steph asks with a frown.

Eddie chuckles at her immediate offense.

"They got into legal trouble, and couldn't afford the house anymore, I think my dad spent some time in prison too. Tax fraud and shit, never cared enough to dig into it and Wayne doesn't like talking about them either. He's a better parent they'd ever be anyway."

"Yeah," Steph softens. "I'd love to have had someone like him back in the day." Then, she deflates with a sigh. "Though even the nicest people can turn out to be bigots. Not Wayne, of course!" she rushes to add. "He knows about Robin and he's really cool about it." 

Eddie sees his opening and feels comfortable enough to use it finally. 

"He better be, since his nephew is bisexual," he says with a little huff. 

"He is?" Steph picks up curiously. 

"Yeah," Eddie scratches his cheek, suddenly sheepish. "Turned out I wasn't watching Indiana Jones for the plot."

"I think that sweaty chest is plot enough," she says and they both laugh.

"Have you dated a guy, then?" Stephanie asks next. 

"Only one for real," Eddie admits. "But it's not like I've dated many girls either, though it is easier."

"A young bachelor like you?" Stephanie raises her eyebrows in surprise. "You should be swarming with marriage proposals, the way your uncle describes you."

Eddie groans, throwing his head back against the cushions. 

"What nonsense is he telling about me?"

"Only that he has a talented, smart boy in Indy, who's always helpful and protective of his friends and family. Also, he has really frizzy hair."

"Excuse me?"

Eddie picks up his head to look at Stephanie. She's suddenly closer than before, rubbing a lock of his hair between her fingers. 

"When was the last time you had your hair done?"

"Uh." He looks between her hand and her face like he'll find the answer there. "Never? Probably? At least not that I remember."

Stephanie's mouth purses with displeasure. 

"I can fix them for you. For taking care of my cats."

Eddie wants her hands in his hair so badly, but he raises his beer like a dumbass. 

"But I already got a beer," he points out. 

She shakes her head. 

"I share beers with friends for less. I'd usually buzz Wayne too, and you'd be doing me a favor because I can't focus with your split ends right in my face."

She's really playing it up, pout and all, and unfortunately, it's working on him. 

But he'd probably do anything she asked for. 

"Then, uh... Sure, I guess."

[rosenclaws]

rainy days | Leopold Mountbatten x reader

summary: You run a small bookshop and expect a slow day when a storm rages through New York, until a very handsome stranger walks through your doors.

a/n: I watched Kate and Leopold and I am certifiably obsessed and totally normal. I apologize if any of his dialogue sounds off I'm not used to writing the way he talks. Anyways please indulge my new obsession and I hope you all like it!!

part 2

You sigh as you listen to the rain hit the windows of your little book shop. A hot cup of tea is sitting by your side as you flip through one of your books. You love your bookshop but today is definitely a slow one.

Though you do see people hustle past with their umbrellas, clutching their bags and dressed too nice for the rain. So for now you settle down for a quiet day. That is until the little bell rings, a sign someone has ventured through the storm to your little shop.

"Hello, Welcome in!" You say cheerfully as you look up from your book.

Your eyes widen as you see a man, a very handsome man, standing in the entrance way. His clothes soaked by the rain. Still he looks as put together as ever as he stands tall at your door. You notice the weird clothes he's wearing. It almost looks like a costume. His wet hair sticks to his forehead and you wonder how he got stuck out here without an umbrella.

"Forgive me, I am still unfamiliar with my surroundings and I appear to have gotten lost." You clock his accent immediately, a tourist perhaps? Though he smiled kindly you could tell he was confused.

"It's no problem, here come in." You hurry around the counter.

He silently shivers as he tries to stay away from the many books you have around your store. Fearing that he may ruin them with how much water was dripping off him.

"I have a few towels upstairs if you don't mind waiting." You offer, taking pity on the man.

"Not at all." He bows slightly as you leave the room which you think is a little weird but polite nonetheless. You grab a towel and rummage through your drawers before finding a pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie an ex boyfriend had left a while ago.

"Okay, I have a towel and some clothes that I think will fit you..." You trail off as you look up and see that he has taken off his jacket as well as his shirt.

Your brain short circuits for a moment as he turns around and it takes everything you have not to gawk like a creep. Water drips down his chest as he shakes his head to try and rid some of the water from his hair.

He meets your eyes and you both share a look. You can only hold his gaze for a moment before looking down at the ground, attempting to save yourself from any more embarrassment. You hand him the towel and clothes and gain the courage to look him in the eyes again.

"I apologize profusely, I did not hear you come down." He quickly grabs the clothes and you cough awkwardly, stealing a look at his bare chest.

"Bathroom is down the hall, you can change in there." He thanks you again and leaves you alone.

Oogling strangers isn't exactly polite or great for business but god was he handsome. Handsome and polite and an accent? It's almost too much. You hear a loud rumbling of thunder and watch the sky grow darker. Looks like the storm isn't going away anytime soon. You hear the bathroom door open again and you quickly try to busy yourself, choosing to go back to your book.

"I must apologize again, It was highly inappropriate for me to be," His neck turning a slight shade of red as he scratches the back of his head. The clothes fit him and it's almost a crime how nice he looks in a shirt and sweatpants.

"In such a state of undress."

"It's okay, you were probably freezing in those clothes so.." You smile warmly which he reciprocates.

"I truly appreciate your kindness." He glances around your shop, admiring the collection of books on your shelves.

"So, are you a tourist?"

"Oh, I have yet to introduce myself how rude. My name is Leopold, I grew in England but moved to New York." So that explains the accent, the ridiculously charming accent.

"Well Leopold, it's nice to meet you." You introduce yourself and hold out your hand. Instead of shaking it he takes it and kisses your knuckles. You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face.

"What a beautiful name, Is this your store?"

"Yeah, I bought it a couple years ago and well, I'm still here. All my friends think I'm crazy for opening a bookshop but I love it."

"Books are a wonderful thing, as a child I relied on books to occupy my time. Such intricate and beautiful worlds created from words on a page at the tips of our fingers. I think it's a very noble profession." He speaks so eloquently, his eyes filled with passion.

You rarely meet a man who has such an appreciation for books. He notices the book sitting on the desk.

"May I?" You nod your head and he picks up the book.

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," He smiles fondly as he flips through the page.

"I picked up a copy myself when it released before I left England. I thought it was one of the most imaginative and fantastic stories I had ever read." He flips through the pages, admiring the colorful drawings that adorn your copy. Gently, he closes the book and sets it down.

"Though I must admit, I have a new found respect for the book myself." There's humor in his voice though you don't quite get the joke.

"When it came out?" You question. The book came out in the 1800's, unless he just means a new release.

"Yes, It was quite difficult to get my hands on one but I managed."

There's something more to this man for sure. Even the way he talks is unlike anything you've heard before. The pieces start to fit themselves together as you take notice of every oddity surrounding this man. The clothes, the way he speaks, claiming to have been 200 years ago.

"You're not from here are you Leopold? Like 21st century here " You ask, he seems surprised at your question. He's surprised that you aren't calling him a lunatic. He admires how quick you are to accept the unknown. It's admirable.

"Quite the perceptive one, smart and beautiful." He flashes a smile and you swear you almost melt on the spot. He doesn't deny your claim and it makes you want to know more.

"I must admit it is a long story but seeing as there appears to be no end to the rain, perhaps I could tell you." You lean on the counter and rest your chin on your hand. He mirrors you, his brown eyes not shying away from yours.

"Tea?" You ask playfully. He stands up and offers you his hand. A spark electrifies your whole body as your hands touch.

"It would be my honor."

[boldchaoswhite]

𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐇𝐂𝐬

Hellos! Back at it again with some love for my Sebastian peoples! If you looking for the Ominis Gaunt HCs they here! Divider by: @adornedwithlight Enjoy!

In General:

Sebastian is the kind of person who would stand by you through thick and thin. He’s the first to defend you, whether it's against unfair professors, or judgmental peers.

He has a protective streak, but it's never overbearing. He trusts his partner to hold their own but always keeps an eye out, just in case.

Sebastian loves teasing you, especially when he knows it’ll make you smile. If you’re ever feeling down, he’ll pull out all the stops—bad jokes, exaggerated impressions of classmates, or silly faces behind Professor Sharp’s or any teacher's back.

Seeing you excel at something makes Sebastian absolutely beam with pride. Whether it’s a flawless potion, a jaw-dropping spell, or a perfect score in flying class, he’s your number one cheerleader.

He’s definitely the type to brag about you to anyone who’ll listen: “Did you see them out there? Absolutely brilliant!”

Sebastian thrives on a little friendly competition. He adores dueling with you, always pushing you to test your limits while trying (and sometimes failing) not to hold back.

If he loses, he’s a good sport—but he’ll definitely want a rematch. “Best two out of three, love?”

He loves little gestures, like sneaking you notes with charming scribbles or leaving flowers on your desk before class. He’ll deny it was him, but his smirk gives him away.

He’s a big fan of cozy library dates where you both “study,” though it often turns into him whispering stories and making excuses to lean closer to you.

Exploring the Forbidden Forest or sneaking into restricted areas of Hogwarts becomes ten times more fun with you. 

Despite his playful nature, Sebastian opens up deeply with you. He appreciates your ability to listen and offer advice, especially when he talks about his family or the struggles he faces.

 If someone compliments how well you two complement each other, he’ll beam and say, “That’s us—a dynamic duo.”

He’s the type to memorize all the little details about you—your favorite places, the way you take your tea, or the way your face lights up at certain spells. He uses this knowledge to make you feel special daily.

Sebastian finds it exciting and endearing when you take the reins, whether it’s planning a date, initiating a duel, or calling him out on his antics. He’d grin and say, “I don’t mind letting you take charge…this time.”

He’s fiercely proud of your accomplishments and doesn’t hold back in bragging about you to anyone who’ll listen.

If anyone speaks ill of you, he’s the first to step in, protective and fiery. He’s loyal to a fault and refuses to let anyone disrespect you.

Like him, you’d also have a protective instinct when it comes to his well-being, especially if he's putting himself in dangerous situations or not taking care of himself.

If you two ever argue, he’ll pace and brood for a while but always returns with an apology, doing whatever it takes to make things right.

Sebastian spends a good chunk of time agonizing over how to make it up to you. Should he bring you a gift? Write a letter? Apologize in person? He debates every option and inevitably decides he just needs to see you.

He’ll try his best not to make the same mistake twice. He knows his pride and impulsiveness can get the better of him, but he’s determined to grow for you.

Sebastian is the definition of a physical touch person. Whether it’s casual or intentional, he loves to be close to you in every way possible.

He’ll rest his chin on your shoulder while you’re reading or writing.

If you’re sitting on a couch or the grass, his head is absolutely in your lap. Bonus points if you play with his hair—it’s his favorite thing.

Loves putting an arm around your waist when standing near you, a quiet way of saying, “You’re mine.”

Constantly reaching for your hand (even if it’s just to hold it for a second while walking side by side.)

Sebastian has absolutely no shame when it comes to reaching over and snagging a bite of your meal or treat.

He grins at you with a playful “What? You weren’t going to finish it, were you?” even if you were clearly mid-bite

However, he’s the type to offer you the last bite of his food as a peace offering. He acts like it’s no big deal, but it secretly melts his heart when you accept it.

If you’re lounging together, Sebastian will drape himself over you like a blanket. He doesn’t care if it’s practical, he just wants to be close to you.

He’s the type to grumble if you need to get up for anything: “No, no, you’re not allowed to move. I’m comfortable.”

Whether it's a hand on his arm, a kiss on his cheek, or you curling up next to him on the couch, Sebastian loves it. He craves the closeness, even if he doesn’t always show it.

When he’s tired, Sebastian becomes even more affectionate, mumbling soft compliments into your ear and pulling you closer.

Sebastian has a knack for knowing your favorite treats and often sneaks some your way during breaks or after classes.

You’d tease him playfully, calling him out on his pride or over-the-top gestures, but you always make sure to remind him that you love him exactly as he is.

(Okie random little visual thing from a movie, remember that scene from Little Woman (2019) when Laurie gets Jo a drink of alcohol and he stands in front of her to make sure she isnt seen. That scene SCREAMS Sebastian to me…honestly multiple scenes in that movie reminds me of Sebastian.)

When Sebastian is jealous, at first, he tries to play it cool, but his body language gives him away. His jaw tightens, his arms cross, and his gaze sharpens a bit as he watches the situation unfold.

He’ll quietly assess the person causing his jealousy, as if measuring up to them. He’s confident, but he still wants to know what he’s “up against.”

He’ll turn up the charm and make sure you’re reminded of why he’s your guy. Whether it’s showcasing his talents in a duel, cracking a clever joke, or casually slipping an arm around your waist, he’s subtly saying, “They can’t compete with me.”

He’s fiercely loyal, and jealousy brings out his protective side. If someone is making you uncomfortable, he’s quick to step in.

While jealousy might spark a reaction, Sebastian would never try to control or stifle you. He respects you too much for that and trusts you deeply, even if he’s wary of others.

If you’re scared or shaken, he’ll soften completely. He’ll hold your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away any tears, and speak to you in a soothing voice.

He won’t leave your side, staying close enough that you can feel his warmth, as if his presence alone can protect you from anything else.

If you’re sick, Sebastian transforms into the most doting and attentive caretaker you could ask for. His usual mischievous energy is channeled into making sure you’re comfortable, well-cared for, and maybe even a little spoiled.

The moment he notices you're feeling unwell, he’s there, asking you if you need anything, his voice laced with worry. “What’s wrong? How do you feel? Do you need anything?”

Sebastian, despite his usual fierce nature, would likely try to make you a comforting meal or brew a healing potion. He may not be the best cook, but he’s definitely trying his best!

If he’s really stressed about you being sick, he might get a little moody, but only because he hates seeing you in pain. (Sulky Seb is funny to me XD)

You’d always be there for him, supporting him through his battles, whether it’s his internal struggles or external challenges.

You'd understand that he sometimes hides his vulnerability and encourage him to open up, assuring him it’s okay to lean on you.

You’d also be quite empathetic, recognizing when he’s bottling up his emotions or struggling internally. You’d always be there to gently coax him into talking about his feelings, ensuring he knows you’re not going anywhere.

You enjoy the playful side of your relationship with him, and it brings out a more lighthearted side of both of you.

Nicknames:

Sebastian has a talent for coming up with affectionate nicknames.

Love: His go-to when he’s feeling soft and romantic.

Sweetheart: Reserved for when he’s trying to comfort or cheer you up.

Starlight: A nod to your brilliance, whether in academics, magic, or just how much you light up his life.

Boss: When you take charge or get your way, he’ll smirk and say, “Alright, boss, what’s next?”

Shortcake: If you’re shorter than him, he’ll use this teasingly. Bonus points if you’re feisty about it.

Minx: If you’ve managed to outwit or distract him, he’ll say this with a smirk and a glint in his eye.

Princess/Prince: If he’s doting on you or spoiling you, he’ll call you this, sometimes sarcastically, sometimes genuinely.

My Dove: Reserved for private moments, when he’s feeling especially tender.

The Better Half: He’ll use this jokingly, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice.

Snacker: If he catches you sneaking food between classes, he’ll say this every time.

Firefly: If you’re glowing with excitement or passion about something, he’ll call you this.

Big FEELS:

When everything goes quiet and his thoughts are left to swirl around the painful memories, that’s when he can’t keep the walls up anymore. There are nights when he simply breaks down, overwhelmed by emotions he tries so hard to keep in check.

Even if he was completely alone, he’d try to stifle his sobs, not wanting to admit just how much he’s hurting inside. His tears would come in soft, quiet bursts, and sometimes it feels like he’s trying to “cry it out” in silence.

Sebastian would never admit that he needs comfort or help. He might brush off your concern with a quick joke or a sarcastic comment. But when you reach out to comfort him, to offer him a hug or just a hand to hold, it would be the thing that breaks him down.

There’s a part of him that’s convinced he doesn’t deserve to be happy. He’s made mistakes, and the weight of those mistakes hangs over him. His guilt is constant, and there are nights when it’s so overwhelming that he can’t ignore it anymore. Even if he’s surrounded by friends or loved ones, a deep, gnawing voice tells him that he’s unworthy of their care.

Slowly, he’ll let himself be vulnerable in front of you. He might not be able to speak the words at first, but his actions will show that he’s starting to trust you with the parts of him that scare him the most. He’ll allow you to hold him, touch him, and be there for him in a way that he’s never let anyone before.

He won’t ever want you to pity him, but knowing that you accept him fully—imperfections and all—will be something that deeply touches him.

When the pain of missing Anne becomes too overwhelming, Sebastian often withdraws into himself. He might go silent, retreating into his own thoughts, distancing himself from everything around him. His pride won’t allow him to show how deeply affected he is, so he’ll keep everything to himself, even if it’s slowly eating at him.

When the silence gets too much, he’ll be the type to walk around the castle at night, trying to clear his head, but it’s always there…

The guilt he feels over not being able to protect Anne, especially when her condition worsens, is crushing. He constantly blames himself for not finding a way to cure her, not being strong enough to stop whatever happened. Even though he tries to push these thoughts away, they linger, festering in the back of his mind.

On the surface, Sebastian might act like he’s fine, but inside, he’s constantly at war with himself. He’s angry at the world for being so unfair, at himself for being helpless, and at the helplessness he feels every time he looks at Anne’s condition.

He is short-tempered or moody, especially when people ask about his sister or bring up anything remotely related to her.

Sebastian doesn’t need words to feel comforted. When he misses Anne, he needs quiet reassurance. He needs someone who will just be there with him, not forcing him to talk but offering a presence that lets him feel understood.

If you’re aware that he’s struggling with the weight of missing Anne, you might find ways to show him you’re there without pushing him too hard. Maybe you sit beside him in silence, offering a gentle touch or a soft hand on his back, allowing him to lean into you if he needs to. 

 You might tell him, “I’m here. Whenever you need me.” It’s a simple statement, but to him, it’s a promise that someone will always be by his side.

Despite how much he misses Anne and how emotionally vulnerable he feels, Sebastian’s instinct to protect those he cares about is powerful. If you notice that he’s struggling or offering more intense gestures of affection or protectiveness, he’s silently asking for your patience.

like as last time i said: If I think of more ill post them here, hope you enjoyed! Love you all~! If you looking for the Ominis Gaunt HCs they here!

[alexusonfire]

Joan Ramsey Falling in Love with a Witch Looks Like:

Joan Ramsey x Fem!Witch Reader

A/n: What can I say, I'm a sucker for "hyper-religious woman views witch as divine instead of deviant". Slight canon divergence, but hey, so is the homosexuality 😁 Reader is a teacher at Miss Robichaux's. Headcanon style. Hope y'all enjoy!

This is the slowest of all burns. Joan, of course, objects to everything about your person in the beginning, refusing to get to know you past a casual "hello." After the stunt Madison had pulled with the knife and setting their curtains on fire, you couldn't entirely blame her.

It was the little things about you specifically that caught and kept her attention. How you'd still continued to smile at her after she'd banished "your lot" from her house and Luke from the school. A small wave here and there when she was out on the front porch and you'd pass by. A handful of times she'd been struggling to get her groceries inside, and though each and every time she denied your help to either call for Luke or simply continue to struggle, you'd still offer whenever you'd catch her. Your voice was warm and kind, and you always seemed genuine, even if she believed something else entirely.

As it would happen, your bedroom window was almost directly across from hers, and, unbeknownst to you, she'd started watching you from the safety of her curtains. She adored how you would bite your lip when you concentrated on something or did a little dance and listened to music as you picked your clothing out for the day. Of course, she'd never look in your more private moments; she was simply curious about you is all, not a peeping tom...

Joan often took late-night drives, as she had never been a good sleeper. The lull of the car engine and low volume of gospel music were sometimes the only things to bring her peace enough to be able to drift off. As she arrived home one evening, she spotted you coming down the street, a rather troubled look on your face. Against her "better" judgment, she called out to you and asked if you were alright. One thing led to another, and before she realized what was happening, you were sitting at her island while she made you tea.

This was the moment Joan would later pinpoint as the "beginning" of her feelings for you. She began to smile back, and wave to you first from her seat on the porch. The next time she struggled with groceries, she'd simply handed you a few bags without a word, then made you some fresh lemonade as a thank you. Your conversations were never as deep or thoughtful as that first night (Joan thought perhaps the illusion of safety darkness brought had been the cause of it) but they were still pleasant, and something Joan could look forward to now and again.

Her watching sessions had also intensified, to nearly every evening when she could manage it.

While you did appreciate the change in her demeanor, you did notice it was only when no one else was around. If one of the girls trailed beside you, or Luke was in the front yard, she wouldn't so much as look at you, one time even purposefully getting up and going in the house when she saw it was Nan with you. It stung a bit, but you were still pleased with the progress you'd made in the months since she'd moved in.

The real turning point had been Halloween Night, when the zombies attacked the school. Luke had stopped by earlier to bring Nan some cookies, then foolishly run out thinking the dead were merely school kids playing a prank. Upon hearing his cries for help, Joan had come running, unaware of the danger she was now in.

Between Zoe's chainsaw and your pyrokenesis, you'd managed to kill off the dead undead and get Joan and Luke safely back into their home. You quietly tended to Luke's wound as Joan and Nan watched on, the former clutching her abdomen while nausea swirled in her throat. While Nan helped Luke up to his room to rest, Joan stayed behind to help you tidy up. When you'd finished, she grasped your hand in hers and looked at you with teary eyes.

"You saved my son. You... you saved me."

She threw herself into your arms and clutched you tightly, muttering into your chest about how she'd prayed her entire life for protection from dark forces, and God had answered her prayers with you.

"My angel, Heaven sent."

Joan would have you over all the time now, convinced you had been sent to her for a reason. She sat beside you on the porch and invited both you and Nan over for dinners (always keeping a watchful eye on Luke and Nan's interactions). Her favorite thing to do was pick you up for her late-night drives, she finding your presence more soothing than anything. Once again, under the cloak of darkness, you'd share your innermost thoughts with each other, growing closer and closer as the days turned cold.

Joan held steady in her faith, which could be tricky to navigate some days. She'd definitely become less rigid the more she learned about your practice and abilities, but whenever there was a chance to toss out a verse or two, she'd take it. Her smile of satisfaction was so endearing however, you couldn't bring yourself to care too much.

Church was a hard no for you. This originally was a frequent point of contention, until you sat Joan down one evening and explained, start to finish, the Witch Trials that had plagued your sisters for centuries by the Church. The pain in your voice softened her resolve greatly, and she merely kissed your forehead and promised not to ask it of you again. She valued your friendship too much to risk it, even with her faith.

"Friendship"

She wasn't so sure that properly described your relationship anymore. She'd never been so close to anyone in her life, including her late husband. She found herself wanting to be near you always, and the weight of missing you grew heavier and heavier. Somehow living next door wasn't close enough for her, and she became jealous of the school you called home.

"You can stay. If you'd like. It's... late."

It was a flimsy excuse, and she knew it. Especially since you were a two minute walk from your front door. But she was tired of missing you, tired of waiting for you to be available. She wanted you with her. Always.

Much to her delight, under the coveted cover of night where you'd both grown to feel most comfortable, you confessed you felt the same. Her sweet witch-angel, so pretty in the moonlight... she simply couldn't resist any longer. On her tip toes she stood, sealing her lips against yours in a slow and tentative kiss.

.... yes you moved in with her the following day NO we are not elaborating <3

[rileyglas]

Hello! Can I request Alastor x Fem!Trust Issues!Reader? I've seen quite a few fanfictions and requests where Readers were wary of Alastor, but strangely quickly began to trust him. Therefore, it seemed to me that it would be funny to see a Reader who is so distrustful of people in principle that with Alastor’s reputation this distrust reaches the point of absurdity. And when Alastor really sincerely wants to gain the Reader's trust (romantically or platonically, it doesn't matter), then it becomes a really difficult task. For example, he offers help with some little thing and the Reader immediately “what do you want from me.” Or when Alastor brings the Reader tea/coffee, she waits for him to drink first (she would probably insist that he pour it from the same ?teapot?). The other residents of the Hotel find this hilarious.

This is such a fun prompt, especially under the assumption Alastor loves nothing more than a good chase during a hunt. 😉

Like Glass (Alastor x Fem!TrustIssues!Reader)

Four months. That’s how long it took for you to finally take Charlie up on her offer of the possibility of redemption. The chance to get to Heaven seemed like a pipe dream but after a few very long talks and persuasions, you now held a key to your own room in the hotel. 

You try to keep to yourself and most seem to respect that. You’re left alone unless something is needed for one of Charlie’s exercises. You even specifically requested that Nifty didn’t bother coming to your room to clean. The less people in your space the better. 

Charlie has such a big heart but that leads to her choosing to trust even the most despicable characters. She has even trusted and allowed the Radio Demon to live under the same roof. You’ve heard all the stories, all the theories of why he was really there under the ruse of “helping” her. You didn’t buy it one bit. 

Just the other day you were trying to hang some banners the crew had made during an activity. Your ladder was rickety but unfortunately it was the only way to reach the beams. Pained grunts filled the room from you trying to stand on your tiptoes while maintaining some sense of balance. “Allow me to help, dear. Would hate to see you fall.” A staticky voice called from below you. “No thank you - I….am almost…done - shit!” the ladder shifted and almost threw you off. Alastor stabilized it with ease. “See, it is a good thing I’m here!” he yelled smugly. At this point you would rather fall than allow him to hold your life in his hands. “You’re a busy man Alastor. Hey Husk? Mind helping -”

“Nope, looks like Al has it covered.” he teased from behind the bar, relishing in your uneasy tone. You shot daggers, both angry and begging for the cat to just help you instead of Alastor. You made the last tie in the banner and swiftly came down to more solid ground. “Thanks I guess. I had it though.” you said through gritted teeth, avoiding making eye contact and rushing out of the room. Had you looked back you would have seen Husk laughing at how irate Alastor suddenly became.

Now tonight, Nifty was kind enough to serve everyone one of her more popular dinners. It was a simple dish yet as usual, you waited for everyone to nearly clear their plates before digging into it yourself. You might have been starving but you could never be too careful. We are all in Hell for a reason. Could anyone be truly trusted?

“My dear, dig in! Before it gets cold!” Alastor’s voice chirped from across the table. You glare at the toothy grinned demon, “I just like to ensure everyone is enjoying before digging in myself. Appreciate the concern though.” You try to seem pleasant but your voice always seems to drip with disdain when speaking to him, “Why are you so worried? Did you help in preparing the meal?” 

He chuckles, “I try to keep out of the kitchen when Nifty cooks but she did require a few extra hands -” You involuntarily choke and spit out the bite you had just taken. Angel and Husk also choke though it’s to hold back laughter. You sneer at their amusement. Alastor’s face twists with confusion, “Is everything alright?” “Oh uhm I’m suddenly not that hungry. Must be coming down with something. Excuse me.” You excuse yourself from the table and make your way to the library. Reading was always something that could busy your mind and right now you needed a distraction from both your growling stomach and Alastor’s attempt to help once again. He’d been making an uncomfortable effort to help you in any way he could and in your mind, that could only mean he wanted something from you.

Not many residents used the hotel library which was great for you. But of course, there was always someone who enjoyed breaking your solitude. The sound of footsteps pulls your eyes off your current page, “What do I owe the visit?” you snap over your book. 

Alastor strides over with a serving tray carrying a tea set. “Well I saw just how horrible you looked at dinner and figured some peppermint tea might help whatever ailment you’re suffering from.” He sets the tray on the table in front of you but you don’t move a muscle. “Since when do you care if someone isn’t feeling well?” you cock an eyebrow at him. 

He hums as he pours two cups of tea, taking one for himself and offering you the other, “What? Can I not offer a fellow resident a nice cup of tea?” “Nope. What do you want?” you continue to stare at the cup in his hand. His eye twitches, trying to hold back his annoyance, “Why do you insist on rejecting any of my pleasantries?”

You slam your book closed, “You’re wondering why I do not want help of any sort from one of Hell’s most vile Overlords?” He sets down your cup and sits across from you. You didn’t want company but it's too late now. “Ms. Morningstar trusts me with ensuring the safety of this hotel yet you cannot even take a cup of tea you’ve watched me both pour and drink myself. Other than what stories you’ve heard, what have I done to you to make you so cold towards me?” His eyes burn into you, eager for an answer. Although with his tone, you could only assume he knew exactly why you didn’t trust him. 

You sigh as you pick up the cup he offered. You swirl it in an attempt to examine if it looks or smells odd before hesitantly taking a small sip for yourself. “Have you ever been betrayed Alastor? By a friend? By someone you loved? Because I have. It’s how I died and how I ended up here.” 

His smile falters slightly, corners curving down before returning to their usual wide grin, “Trust is like glass, once broken it isn’t easy to fix nor will ever be the same. I admire how guarded you try to be.”

You scoff, “If it is so admirable then why bother trying so hard to earn my trust? Unless it just kills your ego that someone can see you for who you truly are -” The cup he holds suddenly shatters under his tightening grip, “Watch your tone, dear. I’ve been nothing but amicable with you. I expect the same in return.” his voice drops with static filling the air. You can’t help but smirk at how quickly you’ve managed to get under his skin. “Ooooh so it is an ego thing? Duly noted.” you bite and finish off your cup. As you stand you see Alastor’s eyes shift to black dials, his mind clearly spiraling. On your way to the door you brush a teasing hand across his shoulder, “Tea was wonderful by the way. I’m feeling better already!” Your coy laughter echoes through the library as you leave but the sounds of Alastor’s demon form drown it out. He snarls over his shoulder to you, “Don’t act so smug darling. I’ll get you to trust me one day.”

“Good luck!” You chirp walking out the door, unaware of the challenge you just put into place for the Radio Demon.  He was going to have you one way or another. It was only a matter of time and patience, two things he had plenty of when it came to getting what he wanted. You.

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

The Apothecary’s Travel Guide Chapter 1

Quickly, before we begin, I want to set some things straight about this little fic series.

This fic will use Fem!Reader in both pronouns and body descriptions. I usually stick to gender neutral stuff, but this fic just works better with a female main character in mind (or at least I think so).

While I won’t be going into actual nsfw stuff (maybe in the future, I haven’t decided), this fic will still contain sexual themes and scenarios. This fic is meant for older teens and up. I don’t write with a young audience in mind, both for this fic and in general.

For those of you who are not familiar with The Apothecary Diaries (wtf are you doing here, go watch it), the series takes place in a fictional version of Imperial China. You don’t absolutely need to watch it to read this fic, but you will have a better understanding of things if you have (also, it’s just a really good show, very well written with one of the best female protags I’ve ever seen).

Also, this fic starts before Sunset, so the whole “Twilight is Wolfie” and “Hyrule can heal” things are not known yet.

–

It felt a little strange to be back in the busy streets of the pleasure district after spending months in the rear palace. But it was the good kind of strange. The smell of grilled meat skewers that you missed so much, the paper lanterns hanging overhead, people haggling for better prices in the street side shops, playing games on the side of the road, or drinking tea in teahouses. And of course, beautiful women calling men over to offer ‘special services’ in the many brothels.

It’s a sight you’re all too familiar with. Having grown up here, raised by the women of the famous Verdigris House, these things did not phase you. One would think that working in the palace would be quite the change of pace, but if there’s one thing that you’ve learned over the past however many months, it is that the palace and brothels aren’t all that different. A beautiful caged garden full of flowers for the emperor to enjoy looking upon.

In truth, if you had the choice, you would not want to have anything to do with the imperial palace, but given your situation, what could you do? You certainly didn’t ask to be kidnapped and sold off to the palace back then and you didn’t ask to be promoted to lady in waiting to one of the four highest ranking concubines. You were doing just fine as an apothecary back in the pleasure district, thank you very much.

You had originally attempted to stay low, worked as a simple, low ranking servant until your contract expired and then head home. You hid any signs of value that could get you promoted; you hid your ability to read and write, as well as hid your ‘true beauty’ so you wouldn’t become a concubine (even if a servant could only ever become a low ranking concubine). Any extra money you would have earned  from those promotions would just be swiped by your kidnappers, anyway. At least you still got paid for your regular work.

Had things originally gone according to your plan, you would have worked hard and been released within three years. However, now that goal post has been moved quite a bit.

But you shouldn't be thinking about work right now; it was your day off, after all. You were back home (after managing to haggle your way into them letting you leave the palace) and that’s all that matters right now.

I should get some radishes and chicken for soup tonight. You thought as you walked down the street of the makeshift market. You hoped that your father had been eating well. He was never all that good at feeding himself. If he was starving for a few days, the old lady from the Verdigris House would force something down his throat.

Speaking of the Verdigris House, you should probably head there later. Both to say hello to your ‘big sisters,’ but also so you could take a bath there. They’d likely want some medicine, too, now that you thought about it. The last time you delivered medicine there was the day you got kidnapped.

Heh. Even on my day off I’m running errands.

With your little morning shopping excursion done, you stuffed the ingredients into the basket you carried on your back and started heading to that familiar little shack you affectionately called home. Dad should be in the fields tending to the plants right now. Honestly, he was getting too old for that trek, especially with his busted knee, but you couldn’t deny that he loved that little garden he’s cultivated over the years. Not like you were any different when it comes to your passion for medicinal herbs. As your master, he taught you everything you know about medicine; what herbs work in which situations, what to use and what to avoid, how to make medicine, what plants, mushrooms and animals were poisonous and which weren’t, etc. He was a very learned man, having studied both eastern and western medicine. With a few more years of teaching, you might be as good as him, or you hoped so, at least.

Finally you reached the calm little neighbourhood you grew up in. It was on the very outskirts of the city, not even protected by the tall stone brick walls. Looking at the small sizes of the houses, barely larger than your average shack, told people that this was where the poor lived. It wasn’t much, but it was home. Truth be told, your father was an excellent medical expert, even having worked in the palace before from what you’ve heard, but for all his skill and knowledge, he had terrible luck, which is why he ended up living here instead of somewhere more fitting for his stature.

But when you got to your little childhood home, you were met with a worrying sight. A woman you didn’t recognise, worry and uncertainty written on her face, knocking on the front door of your home. That’s strange, did she need medicine? You didn’t recognise her servant uniform, but she seemed to be from one of the inns in the area.

You called out, catching her attention immediately. “Are you looking for the apothecary? He’s currently out, but I can leave him a message.”

“Please help, it’s a medical emergency! Someone’s been poisoned!”

Your face immediately turned serious as you dropped your belongings before running inside the shack to retrieve an emergency med kit. “Lead me to them.”

--

People had gathered around the doorway of the inn, clearly all in a panic, but not sure on what to do.

“I brought the apothecary. Please step out of the way.” The two of you moved past the seemingly small army of staff and patrons.

What you saw seemed to match what the woman had told you before. A man lying on the bed, restless, breathing erratically, hands clenching at the fabric of his clothes right over his heart. Immediately you entered your ‘work mode,’ practically diving next to the man. First, a physical check up.

You pried open the man’s eyes, looking into them; you checked his pulse and stuck a finger into his mouth. Judging from the spittle running down his chin and trace amounts of sick on the bed sheets and his blue scarf, it’s safe to say that he had vomited. Still, you pressed down on his solar plexus to induce more of it. It would help expel whatever caused this reaction, but it would also dehydrate him. There was a hrrk, and spit came pouring out of his mouth, which you wiped away with the bedsheets you had gripped.

Suddenly, a new man with brown hair and eyes came running through the door with what seemed to be a waterskin in his hands.

He was just about to offer the water to the man you were tending to, but you shouted at him: “Don’t let him drink that! Charcoal- we need charcoal!” The startled man dropped the item onto the floor, but recovered just as quickly, running off once again to retrieve the required item.

You repeated this process several times on the victim; making him vomit, wiping the bile away ad nauseum until nothing but stomach acid came out. The man was able to breathe much easier now, no longer hyperventilating. Thankfully, at your request, the charcoal had arrived just in time, which you quickly ground up with your mortar and pestle.

“This’ll be rough on his throat, but it’ll flush the toxins out of his body.” You spoke as you poured the fine powder into his mouth. Some of the men, who you assumed to be the patient’s associates, had gathered around the two of you, clearly worried.

“Wa… Water. Please…” Those were the first words you heard him speak, weak, but nonetheless a sign that he was recovering.

“Not yet. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to endure this a little bit longer.”

Though unhappy, he accepted and resigned himself to his scratchy and dry throat for the time being. Finally you were able to remove yourself from the bedside, letting the other men move the patient while the inn’s servant ladies removed the soiled linens.

First damn thing in the morning and I already have to deal with an emergency. I only just got back. You grumbled in your mind as you looked at your filthy hand. Ugh. I really need a bath. You sighed both from relief and exhaustion.

“You doin’ okay, Captain?” One of the taller men with brown hair asked while holding him up so he could stand.

The patient - now identified as ‘Captain’ - took a breath. “Much better.” He then turned his attention towards you. “Thank you. I was certain that I was a goner.”

“I am simply doing my job. There is no need to thank me.” Utilising some water in a pitcher that one of the servants offered, you wiped your hands with a damp cloth.

You then took out a wooden slip, wrote just a couple characters on it and handed it over to the servant woman who you first encountered. “Deliver this to doctor Luomen and bring him here. He should be by the south wall.”

With that, the servant gave you and everyone else in the room a small bow before leaving.

The man with a blue hat turned his attention to the patient, who had once again been laid down onto the cleaned up bed. “Now I know that stuff took you out; you didn’t even try to flirt with your “guardian angel”.”

“So that’s your impression of me?” The sarcasm in his voice was evident. “Glad to know that it took me almost kicking the bucket to change your opinion.”

--

Within about half an hour, the servant had returned, your father in tow. It took longer than you had hoped, but given your father’s age and condition, it wasn’t all that surprising.

He took a good look at the patient and asked some questions.

“I suppose you did an adequate job here.” He gave you his trademark gentle smile after he was done with his examination.

“‘Adequate’?” You ask, annoyed.

A man who you assumed to be the owner of the inn came into the room. “Thank you, doctor Luomen. You are the best medical expert one could ask for.”

“Don’t thank me. My daughter did all the hard work.”

“Tell me, how much do we owe you? Name your price.”

“There’s really no need-”

You nudge your father’s side with your elbow. “Can you pay rent this month?”

“Ah… Well, in that case, I’ll take the usual fee.”

This was one of his habits; undercharging for his work, or even failing to charge at all, much to your distress. You understood the desire not to take money from people who were already struggling to get by, but this was not the case.

A tall blond man in heavy armour came up to you, holding out a small-ish sack. “Please, allow us to reimburse you as well. We owe you a lot.” Seeing no reason not to, you accepted the item.

With that, your father and the inn’s owner head into another room to discuss payment, leaving you to gather up your tools.

From the corner of your eyes, you noticed a few of the men fidgeting nervously or giving each other glances. They obviously wanted to say something. You didn’t know why they were hesitating. Sure, you might have sharp, mean-looking eyes and you didn’t smile all the time, but there’s no reason for these numerous grown men to act like this around you.

“Can I help you?” You broke the ice. No point in delaying this.

The one who you assumed to be the leader cleared his throat. “Actually, we’d like you to answer some questions we have. We’re travellers from afar, you see, and we don’t know much about this place or nation.”

They came all this way here and they don’t know the first thing about where they are? “You’re in the country of Li, specifically in the capital city of both the nation and the Central Province. I’m not going to judge how you choose to spend your time, but if you wanted to go sightseeing, I wouldn’t exactly recommend coming to the pleasure district first.” You raised an eyebrow. Just who were these people?

You saw that a few of the mens’ faces had turned bright red when they realised where they were. “Ha! Told you that this is where we ended up.”

“Are you implying that you frequent these kinds of places, Captain?” It sure seemed like these two had a penchant for arguing. Even during the time while you were waiting for your father to arrive, you noticed that they kept butting heads.

“Enough, you two.” The oldest shot them a quick glare. “Either way, it’s good we left Wind with Four back at the city outskirts. Both because of the inappropriate nature of this place- no offence…”

You shrugged. “None taken.”

“... But so that they wouldn’t have to see you get in trouble like this.”

“You are the apothecary here, right? If so, then you should be familiar with people who have gotten injuries.” You nodded. “Have you heard anything about encounters with any strong monsters, particularly those with black blood?”

Alright, now you were really confused. Monsters? Black blood? Was this some kind of way of informing you of a new disease spreading among the troops of enemy nations? But if so, why not tell this to an army physician instead of a random apothecary?

“Can’t say that I have.” You spoke up after having given it some thought. “Though I have to admit that I have been working in the inner court for the past few months, so I’m not caught up on the goings on outside the palace walls. But if you are telling the truth, I’m certain I would have heard rumours.” Thinking back, Xiaolan - a girl you had grown a friendship with when you were a simple servant at the palace - sure loved her gossip, and if there was one thing she loved more, it was sharing that gossip with you over tasty snacks and food.

“Thank you anyways.”

While this conversation didn’t seem like it yielded much, it did get your gears turning. It was time to do some espionage- or rather, some investigating. Something you’ve gotten pretty good at lately, if you said so yourself.

“Please wait here while I get you some medicine.” With a quick bow you left the room. In truth you had already prepared the medicine while waiting for your father to arrive, but this was still a convenient excuse.

As quietly as you could you hid yourself behind the sliding door and pressed your ear against it. Sure enough, once the men in the room believed you to be gone, they started talking. Words like “monsters,” “eras,” “shadow” and others got thrown around as if it was common knowledge, yet it only served to confuse - and intrigue - you further. One thing was certain; these were not your regular, run-of-the-mill travellers.

Your earlier talk also gave you an opportunity to scrutinise their appearances. Given their unfamiliar clothes and armour, plus features like light coloured hair and eyes, and their utter lack of knowledge of where they even were, you assumed them to be from a distant land, the west, most likely. But that was before you noticed one curious detail that they all shared; pointed ears.

This one thing had you calling things into question. Sure, the world was a large place, but in all your years of studying medicine and the human body, you’ve never heard of any group of peoples with such a distinctive feature.

But now came the question of what to do. What were you going to do about this suspicious group? Should you report them in case they were here to cause trouble? To be honest, you didn’t want to get involved. No point in sticking your neck out for these strangers and possibly risk getting accused of treason. You’ve done your job, you healed them, and you’re about to give them their medicine and leave. There’s no need to let them occupy your mind anymore. You’d steer clear of them from now on. Yeah, that sounded good.

Finally, you pretended to have returned from your ‘excursion’ and knocked on the door. Given the sudden silence from the room, it was safe to assure that whatever they were talking about was not for others to hear.

Walking up to the Captain still in bed, you handed over a small paper bag. “Please take this for the next few days. It’ll ease your stomach and help with getting rid of any lingering toxins. I would recommend drinking it as tea.”

The one who you had identified as ‘Legend’ from when you were listening in groaned. “Ugh. This whole thing’s been a wash. You guys ready to head back to camp?”

A unanimous ‘yes’ was heard.

--

Ironically enough, you could not get those men out of your head. Was your intuition trying to tell you that there was something wrong with them? Or were you simply curious? They were certainly the most interesting people you’ve met in some time.

They had already left the inn and you had headed in a different direction. You did finally manage to get that warm bath you were looking forward to. And getting to speak to your ‘big sisters’ at the Verdigris House was nice. But still your mind was occupied with something else. Damn it, this was supposed to be your day off, but you haven’t been able to relax completely!

You kicked a small rock in front of you in frustration. Hopefully having dinner with your dad would help alleviate your problem.

Suddenly you felt an all too familiar feeling of being pulled backwards.

Well, this wouldn’t be your first kidnapping.

--

And Wars will have to suffer through that dry, ashy throat for the remainder of this fic- lol jk.

A.N Fun fact: did you know that other than Twilight (who has lived among humans for a long time), technically, Legend is the one who has interacted with humans the most? The people of Koholint Island had short, round ears, as did the people of Holodrum (Oracle of Seasons), Labrynna (Oracle of Ages) and Hytopia (Tri Force Heroes).

[catcze]

No but ehat if like wriothesley had an s/o or maybe someone hes romantically interested in who he sees mostly in the fortress and then they go outside together one day and he's like "i never realized how beatiful you are in the sun" and hes all cute and blushin and shit OUGGH OUGH OUGH I'VE BEEN SHOT THROUGH THE HEART WRAAAAAGHHSHDH

OUGHHASDAS YOU AND ME BOTH U AND ME BOTH

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

When you set out on your day off, you weren't expecting to run into your boss— certainly not in a cafe, of all places.

"Your grace?" you ask hesitantly, approaching the table that Wriothesley and Sigewinne occupy. There's a litany of small desserts before them, as well as a teapot and two tea cups filled with rather aromatic tea. You run a hand over your top, trying to smooth any wrinkles that there may be. You certainly hadn't been expecting to run into him here! Oh, if you knew you would have dressed a little bit better. As it is, you were just here to hunt down an afternoon snack, and you certainly looked it.

But Wriothesley lights up at the sight of you, a small smile curling the edge of his lips. Sigewinne grins too, waving in welcome.

"Hello there!" She says pleasantly. "We weren't expecting to see you here!"

You chuckle. "Same here."

"But it seems like you've come at quite the opportune moment," Wriothesley says, beckoning you into one of the empty chairs of the table. He straightens a bit, slouching less in his seat, and leans forward on his elbows. That smile is still on his lips, and his gaze hasn't left you for a second. "I'm afraid we may have gone a bit overboard with our order. You'd be doing us a favor by having some." Sigewinne nods in agreement. You feel the blood rush to your face though, turning it warm.

"Oh, I couldn't impose like that, your grace—"

"Sure you can," Wriothesley's smile broadens then, and you get a hint of his canines in his smile. A slight hint of a dimple on his cheek. "I already said that you'd be doing us a favor, didn't I? Besides, you can drop the 'your grace' while we're here. Treat this like... a serendipitous meeting between friendly parties, rather than between coworkers."

And oh, if you thought that your face was warm before, it had practically doubled in temperature now. Not wanting him to hurry you any further, you plop in the seat. Sigewinne giggles, pouring you a cup of tea and handing it to you which you take with a word of thanks.

"Here," says Wriothesley. He gestures for you to hand him your plate, and as you do so, your fingers brush. It sends tingles up your arm, and you damn near drop the plate out of reflex. Wriothesley, judging by how he clears his throat, his ears turning several shades redder, is not unaffected either.

He fills the plate with lots of confectionaries, desserts, finger foods, and sandwiches, and all sorts of other things. Sigewinne points out some things for him to give you on occasion, and he happily takes her suggestion and gives you some. Well. You've certainly got your afternoon snack and thensome.

As Wriothesley hands the plate back to you, he pauses just as you've taken hold of the other side.

"You know... I think this is the first time I've seen you in broad daylight," he muses. His cheeks redden a bit, and he chuckles at himself under his breath. "The sunlight makes you look even more stunning than usual."

And you make an embarrassed noise, because archons, you might just be in need of medical assistance by the end of this, because there is no way the flipping of your heart is normal. You take the plate, looking down and away so he doesn't see your flustered expression, but he has anyway, if his small laugh is any indication.

"If you ever want to come back here, feel free to say so. My treat." Wriothesley offers, gazing at you with his chin resting on his palm. He looks at you like he never wants to look away. "I'd be happy to see you in this sunshine again, if you'd let me."

[herofics]

No Longer Mine, part 3

A/N: I finally got around to writing more of this. The first part can be found here and the second part here. This was written in a very tired state, so it might be a bit all over the place, but I think it's okay

Word count: 2.3k

Contrary to what he’d hoped, Gojo couldn’t fall asleep after he felt the migraine coming in while fighting with Ava. He loved her and his conscience wouldn’t let him sleep after being such an asshole. He had heard the front door slam shut quite loudly, after Ava had stormed off. She must have left the house, and Gojo was going to go after her, he had to. He couldn’t just leave things like this.

You had gotten back home with Nanami a while ago, but he had gotten called away on a short mission almost immediately after your arrival. Maybe that was for the best, you could use some alone time to sort out your thoughts about what had happened earlier. You weren’t really sure what you were feeling. You were angry at Gojo for his jealousy or whatever the hell he had displayed when he saw you and Nanami holding hands. He didn’t have any right to be possessive or jealous over you anymore. At least you were finally able to put a face to the name when it came to Ava. You couldn’t really put your finger on it, but you got an odd vibe from her. She seemed very shocked when she saw you and especially when she heard your name, and you took note of the brief death glare she gave Gojo. Could it be that Gojo hadn’t told her about your return? It had been six months, surely he would have told his fiancée, right?

The hours passed, but you just couldn’t get it out of your mind. Why wouldn’t Gojo have told her? You were just making yourself a cup of tea when the doorbell rang. You couldn’t think of who it could be, so you checked the peephole.

“Ava?” you muttered quietly to yourself. What could she possibly be doing behind your door?

You took a deep breath to calm yourself and opened the door.

“Hello” you greeted her politely.

“Hi. We met briefly earlier today. I’m Ava, Satoru’s fiancée”

“I’m sorry I didn’t really introduce myself earlier, I’m (Full Name). It’s nice to meet you” you bowed a little bit.

“Would you mind if I came in? There’s something I’d like to talk about with you” she asked.

“Sure, come in”

There was something odd about her, but you decided to be polite and invite her inside. She didn’t seem threatening or jealous or anything of the sort, she just seemed very intent on talking with you about something. The two of you sat down by the kitchen table and you offered to make her tea, which she accepted.

“So, what did you want to talk with me about?” you asked.

“I’m going to get straight to the point. Stay away from my Satoru” she said very matter of factly.

“Excuse me?” you asked, blinking a few times in disbelief at her forwardness as you set the tea cups on the table and turned to grab the sugar from the cupboard.

“Seeing you is obviously painful for him. You probably don’t know this, but when you disappeared, it almost killed him. When I met him, he was in a bad way. He was a shell compared to what he was with you. I’m sure you don’t want to hurt him, so I would like you to stay away from him” she announced.

You took a sip of your tea, noticing it tasted a bit off, but not paying much mind to it. You were much more interested in this woman’s demand.

“And if I don’t?” you asked, not really in a challenging tone, but more out of sheer curiosity.

“I’ll make sure that this time, you stay gone” she hissed.

“What does that mean? Do you have something to do with what happened to me?” you asked, but as you looked at her, you noticed your vision was going a bit blurry.

You could feel yourself losing consciousness. She must have put something in your tea when you had your back turned. You wouldn’t just pass out for no reason. You stood up, attempting to get away from her, but you fell to the floor, hitting your head on the corner of the table on the way down. As the blood started to slowly flow down your face, your vision went black and you lost consciousness.

Gojo couldn’t find Ava anywhere. He had already checked the whole estate and all the places she liked to go nearby, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Where is she?” he muttered to himself as he marched towards Nanami’s place.

Gojo didn’t even know why he was going there. Ava could be confrontational sometimes, but surely she wouldn’t have gone to see you after what happened earlier?

“Who am I kidding, she would totally do that” Gojo groaned.

He couldn’t be sure you were at Nanami’s of course, but from what he’d seen earlier, he thought there was a high likelihood that he would find you there. Ava would probably have figured out the same thing. He hadn’t really thought about it, but where had you been staying after you got out of the hospital? Had you been with Nanami the whole time? Why was he even thinking about that, you had made it very clear that what you did was none of his business anymore.

When he got to Nanami’s house, he could see that the curtains were drawn, but there was clearly someone inside, he could see a shadow moving on the other side of the curtains. Since it seemed to be just one person, he figured it was probably you and Ava wasn’t there. Then he noticed it, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized right away, but there was a very faint trace of a familiar cursed energy lingering around. Ava’s cursed energy. It was well suppressed, but Gojo had sharp senses, so he noticed it anyway.

“I’m going to make sure you won’t come back this time. I’m supposed to be his spouse, not you. You don’t deserve him, you don’t deserve him, you don’t deserve him…” Ava kept repeating.

She had long admired Gojo from afar, and wanted to be with him, but you were always in the way. The only way to make him notice her, was to get rid of you, so that’s what she did. She came from a rich family, and finding a curse user to kill you wasn’t a problem either. As it turned out, that curse user didn’t get rid of you like she had instructed him to, but he apparently kept you. Who knows for what reason, but whatever it was, it allowed you to eventually escape with your life.

When Ava eventually approached Gojo after she determined he had hit rock bottom, he didn’t even know who she was. Sure, she had gone to the Kyoto school while Gojo attended the Tokyo one, but they had crossed paths before. Of course he had always been with you even back then. It was like he didn’t even see anyone but you, certainly not her. Over the years, her obsession grew, and eventually she took action to get rid of you, and to get close to Gojo. It all went just like she had planned, until today. Or apparently, until six months ago, since that was when you had actually managed to escape, and her dear fiancé just hadn’t told her about your return.

Gojo hesitated for a moment, before ringing the doorbell. The shuffling and sounds of movement inside the house immediately seized.

“Hey (Name), I know you don’t want to see me right now, but I just want to talk to Ava. I know she’s there” Gojo announced.

Ava had frozen the moment the doorbell rang. She could sense Gojo’s cursed energy before he even spoke. She knew what she was going to do, she would make it look like you had attacked her in a jealous rage, and that she had had to kill you. Surely that would work. You were the jealous ex of his fiancé, who had gone into a fit of rage and attacked her. The atrocities you had no doubt suffered during your missing time could also be used to explain a sudden violent outburst. No one would question it, not since it came from her. She would just have to make it convincing, to hurt herself enough to warrant such a drastic measure as to end your life. Could she manage it? In the few seconds it took for Gojo to realize that something was wrong? No, she had to talk him into going away.

Ava took a deep breath and walked to the front door, opening it a bit, plastering her signature smile on her face. He had no reason to go inside, she could just talk him into leaving. The mixture she had used should keep you unconscious for at least an hour, so she was in no hurry.

“Hi darling. You wanted to talk to me?” she asked.

“I take it (Last Name) doesn’t want to see me?”

“No, they don’t, I’m sorry. We were just talking, so could this wait? I’ll be home in a bit and we can talk about it then” she suggested.

“Yeah, sure…” Gojo said, turning to leave.

As he took a few steps away from the house, something stopped him. Something was telling him he couldn’t leave, that if he did, something terrible would happen. He trusted his instincts, they had saved him so many times, and this feeling wasn’t something he could just ignore.

“I need to talk to (Name)” he said without thinking.

Gojo could have sworn that the mention of your name caused something to flash in Ava’s eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure.

“Like I said, they don’t want to talk to you, and you can’t just barge into someone else’s home without permission” Ava tried to argue.

“It’s not your home either” Gojo said, as he took a step towards the door.

Ava slammed the door shut and dashed in your direction. She could still make this work, she just had to be fast enough. She raised her hand, readying herself to release her cursed technique upon you.

Gojo hesitated for just a moment. Maybe you really didn’t want to talk to him, but this was going way beyond suspicious. His doubts were confirmed as he felt Ava’s cursed energy grow stronger, as if she was using her technique. He didn’t care about the door, he could just pay Nanami for a new one, so he wrenched it open in one swift motion and ran towards the source of the cursed energy. He had, somewhere in the back of his mind, registered that your cursed energy hadn’t changed for a second during this whole time. Why was Ava using her technique? She must have perceived you as a threat for some reason, but for the life of him Gojo couldn’t figure out why that would be.

As he turned the corner to the kitchen, he couldn’t believe his eyes. You were laying on the floor, your forehead bleeding, and Ava’s blades were just centimeters from piercing your back. The shock caused by the situation in front of him made him slow down for just a fraction of a second, but that was enough for Ava’s blades to reach you. As Gojo knocked her out, her technique disappeared, but the damage was already done. He could see your shirt getting stained with blood. Not again, he was not going to lose you again.

He threw the unconscious Ava over his shoulder and grabbed you to carry you with his other arm. He took you to Shoko and threw Ava into the detention room that was used to house curse users waiting for execution, before returning to the infirmary. Gojo didn’t want to look at his fiancée. He had just left her there, he wasn’t sure if he even cared what happened to her. He just sat outside the room where Shoko was treating you, hanging his head.

"”The strongest” my ass” he muttered bitterly.

How did he not notice what Ava really was? Had she had something to do with your disappearance in the first place? He shouldn’t have given up on you, but now he was losing you all over again. Were you going to die? He wasn’t sure he could handle it a second time. Finding out his fiancée was a complete lie wasn’t easy either, but all he could think about was you. He didn’t want to give Ava another thought, it was all too painful. He had lost another person he loved, and he never really knew her at all.

Gojo sat there in silence for god knows how long, before he heard someone marching down the corridor towards him.

“Where are they?” a familiar voice asked, clearly holding back a lot of anger.

Gojo just motioned towards the door next to him. He couldn’t look at Nanami. He didn’t want to see the expression on his face.

Nanami had just gotten the call from Shoko, as he had gotten back from his mission. You were in the infirmary, and she had just finished her treatment. She couldn’t really give him many details about what had happened to you, since she only knew the broad strokes of the situation, but he knew enough. It wasn’t his call, but he didn’t want Gojo anywhere near you, he only seemed to bring misery into your life nowadays. Nanami knew you’d loved him in the past, and that in some way, you probably still did, but he wasn’t good for you. Everyone around him got hurt.

“Stay away from them, Gojo. They deserve to be happy, even if that isn’t with you anymore” Nanami sighed tiredly, before closing the door behind him as he entered the infirmary.

Gojo knew Nanami was right, all he seemed to bring to you was misery. If you hadn’t been involved with him, you wouldn’t have lost four years of your life. If it wasn’t for your relationship with him, you wouldn’t be hurt right now. If you’d only never met him, your life would have been different.

[ghostmoon1]

- Part One - Part Two - Part Three -

Price x Nikolai - Omegaverse - 1.8k words

CW : A/B/O, heat cycle mentions, suppressants (mentioned as pills), smoking, eventual smut, 18+

A/N: Hello guys :3 I decided to write this lil fic, it'll only be three parts. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the next two! There will be smut in the last part, so I'm flagging the whole fic as 18+. There's gonna be things I get wrong, but we're here for the gay men...

“Sir, I can not give you any more of those,”

The nurse's voice was sincere, and her apology for the situation was written all over her face, but that didn’t stop the anger from building in John’s chest. His heart felt like it was being gripped in a vice, those suppressants were his lifeline for this career that he had worked so hard for. Something he wouldn’t have if it weren’t for those suppressants. The higher-ups would have never let him stay if he had been through any heats during his missions. They would ruin everything, his scent would set off even the most controlled alphas in the base.

“You don’t understand- I need these. If I don’t have them, everything is fucked!” he growls, his scent blockers struggling to fight the horrific smell of ozone wafting off him. His hands were clenched into fists, struggling to contain his anger. But under the burning anger, there was something else he wouldn’t ever admit. 

Fear.

“Captain Price, you have been using these same suppressants for three years- the recommended time is only for two, you are going on four now. You must go through at least one heat, or the consequences can be horrible.”

He groans at the nurse's voice. He knew she was right, using suppressants for too long can go bad. The side effects of using them for too long can be horrible, including completely fucking up one's heat cycle, which in the long run leads to medical problems. He couldn’t afford those sorts of problems while captain of the task force, but he couldn’t afford to go into heat either. As soon as the higher-ups get the smallest whiff of his scent, he’d get demoted, or worse, kicked out completely. 

“Please, there’s got to be something. Anything-” A lump of fear and worry gets caught in his throat, making him unable to continue. 

The nurse’s expression softens, full of empathy. But empathy won’t help him in a situation like this. Nothing but those suppressants would help him. The nurse lets out a soft sigh, reaching for a clipboard on her desk. “The best thing I can offer you, sir, is natural medicines to help you get through your heat. If you don’t have a mate to help you get through it, without these medicines, the experience will be… very unpleasant.”

“Fuck… fine,” he mutters reluctantly, unpleased by the whole situation. He leans against the busted wooden desk as she files through the cabinets, grabbing a few small jars filled with herbs and other wonders of Mother Nature. She places some of the different herbs into some containers, humming as she maneuvers around with practised ease.

“Alright. This one’s here,” she murmurs, holding up the first container filled with small yellow flower buds of some sort. “These, you can make a tea out of. They will help with your symptoms before you go into heat. I recommend taking them a week before it starts. And now these, you can crush into a paste and put it with water or food, to help ease the symptoms during your heat. They are much stronger, only twice a day, no more,” she continues to explain, lifting up the other container which contained a bunch of dried, purple leaves. 

Price nods, only half listening and grumbling under his breath as he takes the containers and stuffs them into his coat pockets for no one to see. Natural substances were well known, especially between the alpha’s of the base, their ruts were easier to fend off compared to an omega’s heat. And their medications and suppressants were far less dangerous than the ones an omega has to take to control their heat. But these ones… if anyone was to see him with them, they’d know in an instant what he really is.

The nurse gives him her warm goodbye, in which he replies with as much fake politeness he can muster. The containers in his jacket felt like weights, weighing him down from which he could wish he was. Anything but an omega. A beta would be better even, at least they were allowed to join the army. They didn’t have what he did, they didn’t suffer through unbearable heats. Simon was the only alpha in his team, while Johnny and Kyle were betas. Just the thought of his own team being higher up than him in society as a whole, and their own biologies, made him bristle and want to hide away. He never could, never would. He had a job, to serve as the almighty captain of the Task Force 141. The only thing was, he wasn’t as almighty. His own biology betrayed him.

The trudge back to the barracks was horrible, the weight of his own identity weighing heavily on him. He didn’t feel like he was who he was supposed to be, an omega couldn’t be one of the best captains. But here he was. It all felt like a lie.

The whole barracks reeked of alpha, a scent so in your face it would normally make any omega drop to their knees in submission. He had learnt to control his instincts, one of the few reasons he was so good at what he did. It was normally the polite thing to do, wearing scent blockers in a place like this, but many didn’t. Too absorbed in their own world. Reasons why the betas often retreated to their rooms, or just a place away from the onslaught of alphas to get away from an alphas scent. It overwhelmed them, but it was nothing compared to what it can do to an omega.

His boots echoed through the hall, the walls plain and sterile, no light, no fun. War was never a place for fun. The plaster was peeling and had cracks all through it, it had been like that ever since he got here. Outside the halls, the sound of soldiers training and yelling at each other echoed through the barracks, what little fun they could make in a life like this. 

As he reached his room, the door was an unwelcoming sight as was the rest of it. The memories of sitting up late at the crappy desk, filling out paperwork. Sleepless nights, tossing and turning in his cot, staring up at the roof, eyes tracing each crack and blister in the plaster. Nights of falling asleep at his desk and waking up with a sore back and his once pristine paperwork scrunched up and over the floor—early hours of the morning, going through the same routine that he has grown accustomed to. Days of training and briefings are always the same. He was thankful for his boys, always throwing some colour into his dull days, even if it was listening to their snappy comebacks to each other or Simon’s dark jokes. At least there was always one thing to look forward to.

He yanked the containers out of his pockets, throwing them onto his desk to join the pile of papers and pens. He places his calloused palms against the rough wood, splintered and cracked over years of use and leans against his, eyes trailing over what his life has come to. Rubbing his hand over his face, he curses softly under his breath. This was not what he needed.

He kneels down next to his cot, checking underneath and scavenging through the pile of used suppressant bottles. He grabbed them by the handful, throwing the empty bottles onto the mattress, hoping to hear just one rattle of a pill inside one of the containers. Something that he can take, fend off the inevitable. He knew he couldn’t avoid it now. If he tried to reach out to anything else, anyone he’d be done for. Not even Laswell or Nikolai could help him now. He didn’t want them to know. Only the people that needed to know knew about this. Those who didn’t, would preferably never find out. He groans as he finds nothing, slamming a fist onto his desk, the pain dumbed by his desperation and pure panic. What was he going to do? He can’t do this. Not like this.

His emotions were becoming a haze, pulling him down as he struggled with what this all meant for him. This job was everything he had, he’d be nothing without it. He couldn’t imagine his team without him.

He couldn’t imagine himself without his team.

The thoughts pained him, crashing onto him until his legs felt weak, short panicked breathing, gasping for air. He felt like he was choking on his own fear and panic, knees buckling and giving out as he grasped the mattress, knuckles going white and a clatter of pill bottles against the floor. Hot ears flowed down his cheeks, getting lost in his beard. His eyes were stinging, the pain making him rub his eyes violently until he was seeing an array of colours. He couldn't do this. He can’t. He won’t.

The tears continued to fall, the flood had started and he couldn't stop it. He lets out a pained yell, slamming his fists into the desk again as he forces himself onto shakey legs to get to the window, pushing it open in desperate movements. The air felt cold and bitter, something else to choke him more and remind him of his situation. He felt embarrassed of himself, crying like some sort of pup over something like this. He was a captain. He was the captain of Task Force 141. He didn’t act like this.

He runs his hand over his face, trying to get rid of the tears. He reaches for his pack of cigars, lighting it and bringing it to his lips, letting the smoky haze fill his lungs, watching as he breaths out a plume of smoke and disappears into the sky, blending in with the dark clouds rolling in.

As he takes another drag of the cigar, a soft knock on his door drags his attention away. He didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. He didnt want anyone to see him like this. Clearing his throat, he replies, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, cap.” Kyle’s voice echoes into his room, a somewhat soothing thing to here right now.

“What is it, Kyle?”

“You told us yesterday, you’d run some drills at 1000… you’re bout’ half an hour late cap.”

He curses under his breath, putting out his cigar and placing it on the ashtray. “Yeah, yeah. Got caught up in paperwork. I’ll be out in a moment.” He grabs his gear, replacing his jacket with a tactical vest. He just needed to get through this, and everything will be okay. He’ll figure this out.

He needs to. 

[thollandneedy]

Hey girl! I'm literally SO OBSESSED with your writing

Can you make a little oneshot where Y/n pranks Peter that she's pregnant, and he just freaks out? Ty <3

April’s Fool- Peter Parker

A/n: Omg my first request aft my comeback! 🥲🤍. Btw i already done this prank with my bf, and he almost died do i got inspo from that situation😂

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, fake pregnancy

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

“Peter?” Y/n calls her boyfriend's name when she hears the door to her house open.

“Yes?” The boy answers from afar, and Y/n quickly gets up from the floor, arranging a positive pregnancy test and a pair of baby shoes on her bed, along with a letter congratulating the new dad.

For Peter and Y/n, the first day of April was a day when they planned increasingly absurd surprises, praying that they could pull off a prank on each other without the other finding out. This year, unlike every year since they were fourteen, Y/n had fallen for one of Peter's pranks, saying that she had failed the year because she had only gotten one bad grade. Parker, being the darling of the teachers and coordinators, managed to plan a fake riot in order to scare his girlfriend. After a crying fit and an intense existential crisis, Y/n decided to take revenge.

Her mother's best friend was a few months pregnant, and after finding some little shoes from when she was a baby lost in her parents' closet, Y/n decided to pull the best prank possible.

 Pretending to be pregnant

And as generic as it might seem to some people, for Peter it would be a nightmare on earth. Parker, because he lived with his aunt, had always tried not to give her a hard time and to give her everything she had once given him. A few months ago, he had been offered a change of position at Stark Enterprises, and his duties as Spider-Man were increasing, as were his responsibilities at school because he was in his final year. 

His focus was divided into two: studies and Spider-Man

In this world, monetary security was also a part, as it was a consequence of his studies. Of course, one day he would love to start a family, but that was a desire further down the line that, if realized now, could be detrimental to the life he had always hoped to have and provide for those he loved.

In addition to the hidden drama classes that Y/n took, she also decided to get her mother to act with her when Peter came to visit, as he did every day after his internship. Because he lived a few blocks from Y/n's apartment, his evening routine had a small part dedicated to his girlfriend. Parker took off his shoes, placing them next to a decorative plant that was positioned near the kitchen, where Y/n's mother was already ready to start the tense atmosphere. The woman stared at Peter with a closed face, while in her hands was a cup of chamomile tea, which spread its scent throughout the room. 

“Hello, Mrs. L/N” 

The woman continued to stare at him without reaction.

“I didn't know you liked tea. Y/n told me you hated it.” Parker gives a half-hearted smile, smoothing his brown hair with one of his free hands.  

“I don't like it, but today I needed to calm my nerves. Maybe you should too.” The woman in the colorful overalls says in response, getting up from the island stool positioned in the center of the kitchen and walking into the living room without exchanging another word with the newcomer.

Peter looked at her in confusion, but headed towards the end of the corridor that led to his girlfriend's bedroom. Before entering, she asked him again if he could open the door, to which he replied:

“Get in here pronto, Peter.” His girlfriend complained in a low tone, causing the young man to rush inside. 

The brunette closed the door behind him, keeping his brown eyes on his girlfriend, who was sitting on the end of the bed with her hands behind her and breathing irregularly. Peter approached slowly, feeling his heart beat faster every time he sensed his girlfriend's insecurity in her gaze. With trembling lips, the superhero asks:

“What happened?” Even though Peter already knew that something bad had happened, he still made a point of asking first, trying to soften the impact of a possible shocking revelation. 

Y/n takes a deep breath, concentrating on her Hollywood moment. The girl slowly moves away from the present she was hiding behind her, revealing what she had assembled on her bed. Peter feels the floor catching his feet, and the words escape his mouth like the air in his lungs. 

“ Dude.” Peter stares at his girlfriend, who cries silently. “Y/n for God's sake I'm going to have a heart attack.” 

Parker, with hurried steps, looks directly at the test, which was positive. He looked around for a red pen that could possibly have been used to tamper with the test result, but there was none. The hero's hands began to shake, and his mouth couldn't say a word except:

“Holy shit”

Y/n was holding back the pain he was feeling with all his might, for his thirst for revenge was greater.

“I don't know what to do.” Y/n decided to speak in a drunken voice.

“ Your- your mother she-she.” Peter points to the door, feeling his feet getting weaker and weaker, trying to ask Y/n if her mother knew about the pregnancy.

The girl just agrees, hugging her body and lowering her head.

“Oh my God, I'm literally going to shit myself” Peter sits down on the floor, running his fingers violently through his hair. “OH MY GOD”

“Peter! Stop freaking out. We need to do something” Y/n asks her boyfriend for support.

“We didn't do it without! I'm sure of it. I remember. My God, I didn't even know I could get someone pregnant with me- OH MY GOD HE'S GOING TO BE A MUTANT!" Peter shouts, getting up suddenly.

“Peter!” Y/n gets up together.

“HE'S GOING TO EAT YOUR ORGANS Y/N. HE'S GOING TO EXPLODE IN THERE.” 

“PETER PARKER!” Y/n catches her boyfriend's eye.

“My God, could it be that my cum is radioactive and the condom has melted?” Peter wonders for a second.

“What?” Y/n looks at him confused and teary-eyed.

“What if he's just like me? And he gets stuck in your womb and can't get out again? I only learned to stop getting things stuck in my hands after four months of being Spider-Man. IT GETS WORSE! WHAT IF HE'S NOT LIKE ME? Y/n, if you've fucked Marcus, I'll kill myself in front of you right here and now. I hate that guy.” Peter can't control the whirlwind of thoughts invading his head.

“Do you really think I'd cheat on you?” Y/n asks offended.

“No, fuck no! I don't think so, but... when did this happen? My God, I think I need to see a doctor. A DOCTOR! I CAN'T AFFORD THE BABY'S HEALTH INSURANCE”

His girlfriend just slams both arms into his legs, giving up talking and collapsing into heavy sobbing. 

The brunette takes a deep breath, feeling his body drenched in nervous sweat. The boy, trembling, crawls in front of his girlfriend, who is collapsed at the foot of the bed, looking for support from her boyfriend, who is on the verge of crying too. The hero touches his girlfriend's knees, caressing them briefly in an attempt to calm her down. Peter looked once more at the shoes and the positive pregnancy test, and then his rational side shook him hard, bringing him back to the reality he would have to overcome at that moment. His girlfriend was coughing between loud cries and sobs, while Peter couldn't think of what to say to calm her down. 

“I'm dropping out of MIT.” The brunette said after a second of silence.

The girl wiped away the tears that fell down her red face.

“What?” Y/n asks, feeling her heart stop.

“I'm going to study here in New York to be closer to you... well... you two.” Peter lays his head on his girlfriend's lap, who just listens to his declaration attentively. “I'm going to quit Stark's internship and get a home-office job so I can help you with him or her. How far along are you?”

Y/n feels her heart heavy, and answers while holding back a real cry.

“More than a month.” He replied, feeling like he was going to fall apart at any moment.

“ Damn it, love. Why didn't you tell me?” The girl just stares at him, trying to make him remember his brief outburst. “Oh... never mind.”

“I-I didn't want to end your dream.” Y/n cries, now a real cry as she realizes that she has chosen the right boyfriend to share her life with, even in difficult times. After so many disappointments in love, and men who she knew wouldn't give up even a night of drinking and gambling to be in her company, she had finally managed to choose the right one.

“Love.” Peter brings one of his hands to his girlfriend's cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “You're my dream”

The girl smiles through her tears and bends down so that her lips meet his.

“Peter?” The girl calls out.

“Huh?”

“It was a prank. APRIL FIRST, YOU MORON!” The girl stood up screaming and went to her dressing table, where a cell phone was hidden behind some make-up brushes. She took it out and finished recording the reaction of her boyfriend, who was static once again, realizing that he had been caught for revenge.

“I swear to God, one of these days you're going to kill me with your fucking crazy ass ideas." The brunette nodded, putting his hand on his heart and bursting into laughter after all the nerves he'd built up. “How did you get a positive test?”

“Marie, my mother's best friend is pregnant. I asked her to take the test and my mother gave it to me this afternoon. The shoes are mine. I found them in my parents' closet.” The girl wiped her crying eyes, sat down next to her boyfriend, and then hugged him, allowing the pain to wash over her.

“Did your mom get in on this too?” The brunette laughed louder, feeling his stomach ache, and then he collapsed into a sob of relief. “I hate you” 

“You love me” The girl wipes away the older man's tears.

“I really do. But don't ever do that again in your life. I was about to have a freak-out”

[prianya]

AJSJSHHUEEU YOU WRITE THE BEST ETHO FICS IVE READ!!! if it ain’t to much trouble, can I ask for etho trying to fluster the reader? take care of ya self, love your work!

What a Flirt!

Etho x Reader

Notes: Sorry this took so long! And thank you for the compliment! I’m not too confident in most of my characterizations, but it’s good to hear you enjoy my work. :)

Word count: 792 words

Etho is an energetic man. He’s always on the move, working on some “top-secret” project, or having fun with his closest friends. The energy had always endeared you, and you and Etho had become good friends after a while. Etho is energetic as a fact of life, and recently, on top of that, Etho has become a flirt.

•

On Monday, Etho had cornered you just outside of your base, leaning against a fence post and giving you a smile.

“Have I ever told you that you have a beautiful face?,” Etho says, smiling brightly. You level him with a blank stare, and his smile wavers. “Why are you looking at me like that? I mean it!”

“Sure, Etho,” You sigh, smiling at his attempt. In recent days, Etho had seemingly made it his mission to fluster you, whether out of affection or entertainment, you can’t tell. “Come here, you’ve got a loose strap on your harness.”

Etho steps towards you, and all but halts his breathing. Your hands adjust the straps of the harness gently, fixing his elytra more tightly to his back. Looking up at his face, Etho avoids eye contact, going as far as to turn his head from you. Even still, you spot the light dusting of pink that adorns his cheeks.

“Hm. Seems like you’re losing at your own game, huh, Etho?” You tease, bringing a hand ip to poke gently at his face. He swats your hand away, his blush intensifying.

“I’m not losing at anything, I’ll have you know,” He pouts, once again swatting at your hand. “I’m not even started yet. Just you wait.” He says, puffing out his chest, similar to a bird.

“Okay, birdie, I’ll wait to see what you have in store.” You laugh, shooting his embarrassed face a glance as he realizes what you had called him.

“Hey! I am not a bird!” He says indignantly, and you laugh once again as you walk away from Etho, and as he watches you go.

•

On Tuesday, as you were brewing potions, arms deep in a cauldron with a heavy sheen of sweat over your face from the heat, Etho once again came to find you.

“You look stunning today, sweetheart,” He teases, leaning over the windowsill as he pokes his head inside of the window. “I love someone with such creative passions.” You smile, rolling your eyes.

“Etho, you should move. This potion splashes, and it causes boils on the face. It’s a prank potion, yes, but it’s still not pleasant, especially before dilution.” You tell him, and he gapes at you before standing straight up.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner! I was over that for five whole minutes!” Etho whines, placing a hand on his forehead.

•

Wednesday comes soon as well, and Etho makes haste in finding you in your garden. He sits next to you casually, laying out and facing the sun. He pulls down his mask, bathing his face in sunlight, and you note in the back of your mind that you rarely ever see him in the mask when it’s just you two.

“Fine day today, hm?” You say gently, uprooting a weed and tossing it into a wicker basket. Etho hums, eyes still closed and a peaceful smile painting his face. Smiling, you return to your weeding, systematically ripping weeds out of the ground and discarding them for future use. Etho stirs slightly, and when you look over, his eyes are locked onto you.

“Hello there. Finally awake?” You say, absentmindedly organizing your weeds into separate bundles. He doesn’t answer, but his hand finds yours relatively quickly.

“ Quiet day, huh? I get it. Would you like to join me for some tea?” You ask gently, Rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand and giving him time to reply.

“Yeah. Tea sounds nice.” He sighs, letting go of your hand to stand. He then offers his hand to you, and pulls you up. The two of you walk the few yards to your base together, hands linked at your sides. You can feel Etho’s gaze on your face, firmly locked onto you.

“You know,” Etho begins, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, “I can’t imagine life without you by my side. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed someone’s company like I’ve enjoyed yours.”

You pause mid-step, face flushed, and cover your face with your hands. Etho looks at you, confused at first, then smug.

“I did it! I told you I would-“ Etho quiets immediately as you press your lips to his, muffling whatever “i-told-you-so” he had coming.

“Yeah, yeah. You told me you would.” You smile gently, rolling your eyes as you kiss him again. “You win, Etho.”

[overtail]

hii can i request you weite zuko x chubby/plus sized reader? specifically just general dating headcanons (and possibly some smut hcs if you feel like writing that). id prefer a gender neutral reader but im not very picky about that type of thing. i love ur writing btw!!

ONG TY FOR THAT! Exposing myself here but I'm actually a chubby person (lore drop im not a girl) so this is very heartwarming for me :33

...

Zuko Headcannons - Dating a Chubby/Plus-Sized Reader

this is not meant to romanticize eating disorders

meeting you ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

-when you walked into the tea shop, he thought you were the most beautiful person hes ever seen

-'hey uncle, i can serve them'

-immediately wanted to talk to you

-he was extremely nervous, acting like a lost turtleduck

-'what? jas..jasmine tea! oh yeah.'

-gave you an extra cookie

-always waves to you when you come in

-was excited when iroh told him that you asked where Zuko was when he was sick at home

-you're his favorite customer

-'Lee. My name's Lee.'

knowing you ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

-after a while, Iroh hired you at the Jasmine Dragon when he got the shop

-you and zuko became very close

-you two had sleepovers at his and iroh's shared apartment

-iroh would make you guys sleep in the livingroom

-loved the way your waiter uniform hugged your curves

-would make you food all the time, even when you insisted you werent hungry

-protective whenever you served boys your age

-you came with him and iroh to serve tea at the palace to the king

-'zuko? you're the prince of the fire nation?'

-you werent as angry as he thought you would be

-you were locked up with him and katara in the catacombs

-came with him when he chose to fight alongside azula

dating him (royalty) ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

-when zuko started living in the palace again, he immediately offered for you to live with him

-a week later, he confessed

-he told you how you were the most gorgeous person he's ever seen

-how you looked like a painting from the renaissance

-held you close at night when you two slept

-assigned a special place in the palace for your special interests

-noticed when you stopped eating much

-tried to offer you as much food as possible

-was confused when he saw you throwing up after dinner

-'(y/n)? did you get food poisoning?'

-consoled you when you started crying about your body

-'it's the one i imagined in my dreams.'

-🔞kissed your arms, your neck, your stomach and your thighs

-he loved seeing your stretch marks

-🔞seeing you naked for the first time was a dream come true

dating him (redemption) ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

-you refused to let him go work with the avatar without you

-was there when he told ozai about wanting to be better

-comforted him when he learned the truth about his mom

-helped him create his introduction to the gaang

-'hello, zuko here!' *you laugh*

-fully defended him when nobody trusted him

-got angry when katara called you a traitor too

-cooked you lots of food while camping out

-always worshipping your body whenever alone

dating him (firelord) ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

-immediately proposed to you after his coronation

-🔞got busy as soon as you guys got in your room on your wedding night

-loved getting clothes that hugged your body

-you were always there with him

-'what do mean they shouldn't be in this meeting?

-did anything to make you happy

-got you an extra cookie whenever you wanted a meal to remind you of when you guys first met

-very possesive of you

-beat the shit out of a soldier that made a rude comment about your body

[goldenempyrean]

Hello, would you mind writing a fic with Sicknat x reader on a mission? with phrases like: “I'm never sick” “it's just a little tired” “it's all Tony's fault. I will kill him” “take care of yourself” ?

Caring For A Widow

〚 Notes - Jeez, this request is old! I’m gonna try and get through some of my old ones over the next week :D I thought I'd start with this as I haven't written my fav redhead in a while! :) 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha Romanoff x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - Natasha let's you take care of her when a mission goes sideways. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1044 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

“I swear I’m gonna kill Tony.” Came the annoyed grumble from the redhead leaning against your chest, “This is his fault.” She sniffled, rubbing her nose roughly against the sleeve of her hoodie, rolling her eyes when you chided her for not using a tissue instead. 

To be fair to her though, this wasn’t exactly the best of situations. You were both huddled in a tiny safe house in the middle of nowhere, having just narrowly escaped an ambush during your mission and to make things worse, Nat wasn’t feeling great. 

She’d mentioned it in passing a few days ago that her throat had hurt but it had been such a busy few days you hadn’t thought to check up on her. Of course, she hadn’t told you when it had gotten worse, she was Natasha after all - as stoic as ever. But now she was here, miserably ill in a cold, unfamiliar house just longing to be back home. 

“I’m never sick,” Nat mumbled solemnly, though her congested voice and the deepening circles under her eyes betrayed her. She curled tighter against you, seeking warmth in the drafty safe house. 

“I know, I know,” You replied softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her clammy forehead. “Your timing sucks.”  

She lifted her head just enough to shoot you a look but with the way she was cuddled against you, it held no malice behind it. “Have you told the team we need extraction already?” Nat changed the subject and pushed herself up a little to peer at the laptop which you’d been quietly working on as it sat on your knees. 

You nodded, tilting the screen down so she could see it properly, “They know. Steve wants to be cautious of using air space since they clearly knew we were coming so he’s organising us a car instead.” The redhead stifled a yawn as you explained and you paused to lean down and press a gentle kiss to her forehead, “It’ll be a few hours before it arrives, so we’ve just got to camp out here for a bit.” 

Natasha shivered against you a little, pulling her hoodie a little closer to her. “You can't shake those chills can you baby?” 

“No.” She mumbled thickly, unable to hold back a second shiver. 

She turned away to muffle a rough cough into her arm and you gave a sympathetic pout in return before having an idea, “Alright, stay put," You instructed gently, pressing a comforting kiss to her temple before carefully slipping out from beneath her. 

You knew that she needed something to soothe that throat of hers, so what better than tea. The kitchen of the safe house was sparse, but you smiled to yourself as you managed to find a small kettle and some basic supplies. This’ll do. 

You filled the kettle and set it to boil, whilst it began to heat up, you returned to Nat's side. "Come on sweetheart, let's get you into a hot bath," You said gently, offering her a hand to stand up. 

The redhead hesitated, clearly not wanting to move from her spot. It was strange to see her so lethargic, “A bath?" She echoed, her voice hoarse and congested. 

“Mhm.” Your hum of agreement was followed by small smile, “You like taking baths when you’re not feeling well.” She couldn’t argue with that, instead sniffled quietly before pushing her knuckles up to the underside of her nose before stifling a sharp sneeze. 

“It’ll help clear up some of that congestion too.” You added when she groaned quietly to herself, sniffling at her red nose again. The safe house was small, that couldn’t be argued but at least this one was relatively modern meaning luckily for you two, the hot water was actually hot instead of barely lukewarm as many of the other houses had. 

It didn’t take long to run. Once the bath was ready, you helped her ease into the tub. Natasha murmured a grateful “Thank you” and let out a small sigh as the warm water seemed to relieve the tension in her shoulders and muscles. 

While she soaked, you returned to the tiny kitchen area, preparing the tea. You found some honey and added a generous spoonful, knowing it would soothe her sore throat. As the tea steeped, you went back to check on her. 

"How are you feeling?" you asked, leaning against the old, wooden doorframe. 

Natasha had her eyes closed, the steam from the bath working wonders on her congestion. "Better," she admitted, her voice already sounding a touch clearer. "Thank you." 

“Don’t fall asleep in there, let me know if you need anything, okay?” You smiled and left her to relax for a while longer, returning to pour the tea into a mug. You knew Nat appreciated everything you were doing to take care of her, but you also knew how important it was for her to decompress alone for a little.  

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel with damp hair clinging to her neck, you were waiting with the warm drink in hand. 

She accepted the mug gratefully, taking a careful sip. "This is nice," she murmured, her voice softening a little as her sleepy eyes blinked to keep herself focused. You knew the residual heat from the bath and the tea were probably making her tired. 

"Good," You smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her back to the makeshift bed. "Now, let's get you wrapped up in some blankets and you can nap until extraction gets here.” 

It seemed she was too tired to argue about napping (she usually would make a fuss about wanting to be on alert just incase) and instead, she allowed you to tend to her a little as you tucked her in. Natasha settled against the pillows; the tea cradled in her hands. You sat beside her, one hand gently stroking her damp hair. 

"I still want to kill Tony," She mumbled sleepily, though there was no real bite in her words, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before she fell asleep against you. 

You chuckled softly, kissing her forehead once more, “We'll save that for when you're feeling better." 

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[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 5

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.

one. two. three. four.

Five. 五

Donaka's house is beautiful, and it’s a pleasure to be in, even though you’re constantly working at this or that task to keep it immaculate. You don’t mind the honest work. It’s satisfying in a way working on a computer never was, more immediately gratifying than teaching, and certainly less heartbreaking than writing ever was. 

Sometimes you take a moment to just sit and enjoy the ambiance in his rooms, but by far your favorite space in the house is the library. Built in bookshelves line the walls, an antique table sits in the center, and a circle of comfy leather chairs sit by the window. You’ve taken to spending some of your breaks in there, reading this or that for the fifteen minutes allotted. 

You are reaching for a book on a high shelf, just out of your reach, when a much longer arm seemingly appears out of nowhere over your head, plucking down the volume easily. 

You didn't even hear Mr. Mark enter the room. Usually, he’s at work at this time of day, though you’ve noticed he’s been home more lately. You gasp and turn, finding him standing close enough that you feel the warmth emanating from his body. He’s like a furnace.

He enjoys sneaking up on you. There’s nothing he wants more, than to push you back against the shelves and take you, but he is a patient predator. He settles for just handing you the book with a lifted eyebrow. You take it absently, wondering if you are in trouble. It’s impossible to tell, from his impassable expression.

"Hello, Mr. Mark," you say softly. 

He smirks at your timid greeting, delighted with this development. He’s known for days, of course, that you were coming in here. He didn’t really mind–you were always careful with the books, reverent in the way you handled them, even the newer tomes that could be easily replaced. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks sardonically, implying that you should be cleaning something, rather than looking at his books on Chinese art. 

"Yes. I'm...on my break," you are quick to explain. 

Donaka lets his gaze slowly and openly travel over you. He can’t help but find you beautiful, even in your unassuming black dress and white apron, your hair swept back neatly. 

He takes a half-step closer to you, leaning against the bookshelf, caging you in with his broad frame. “You should use this time to take refreshment. Why are you so unkind to your body?” he scolds, annoyed that you do not treat yourself as well as he thinks you should. 

You frown a little, clutching the book to your chest like a shield. He inwardly scoffs at this, finding the thought that a book between you could save you from him. 

"I...didn't want to risk getting food on your books," you admit, annoyed that he seems to think he can control what you eat and drink too. Chill out, man. Even you are smart enough to let that die unsaid on your tongue. 

“Very kind of you,” he deadpans. You do not miss the dry sarcasm in his tone, and you realize you have made a mistake, thinking you could just come in here and be alone with the smell of old paper for a little while. But now you’re stuck with this book in your hands, which you can’t put away without his help. Your quick escape is thwarted.

“How about this,” he proposes, tilting his head. “You can come in here in the evening, any time you want. But right now, you should go have a cup of tea, and a healthy snack.” No potato chips, practically rings out unsaid between you. 

“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Mark,” you say, not happy with this offer at all. Maybe you could do worse, than your handsome employer taking an interest in your health, and offering to share his books with you. But there’s more to it beneath the surface, something darker, controlling. You sense it more than you could prove it.

You wonder how often he would find his way in here, if you started spending your evenings in one of those oversized leather chairs, curled up with a book… You can’t help but look at the table next. That sturdy fucking table, such a debauchable surface, if he were to grab you up and pin you down there…

Stop stop stop. 

You can’t stop. Not your thoughts, at least. Your feet, however, are ready to go. 

He is searching your face with that sharp gaze that sees everything. He doesn’t look pleased, almost as though he knows you’re not going to come in here again unless you are cleaning. 

Hoping to distract him before he can concoct something else, you hand him back the book to re-shelve, since you clearly can't reach it.

He accepts it, his eyes never leaving your face, but his fingers brushing yours. It feels like an electric shock, when he touches you, and that predictable rush of heat floods your body, from the tips of your fingers to your treacherous, aching, center. 

It’s almost as though you have no sense of self-preservation at all. 

"Thank you, Mr. Mark." You sidle around him, thinking about how you’re always fleeing the rooms he's in. It's almost becoming a comedic bit between you–but you’re not laughing, as you feel his hungry eyes on your back as you go.

“Y/n?”

You were so close to escaping. 

“Sir?” you ask timidly, turning slowly in the doorway.

“Tell Mrs. Wong I’ll have my tea early today. Bring it to me on the terrace.”

There is a single beat during which you consider reminding him you’re on your break still, and that’s not usually your duty around the house. The impulse evaporates as he fixes you with that dark stare, and you dare not defy him further. 

“As you like, sir.”  

He inclines his head with a little smirk, as though to say, ‘See how it goes for you when you defy me?’ All in all…you feel like you got off pretty easily. That is, until you are bringing him the tray with his beautiful burnished earthenware yi xing teapot, and some little dishes filled with dried fruit and nuts. They do look tasty, you have to admit, but that’s neither here nor there for you now. 

The terrace is cloistered by greenery, a pool beside it filled with flowing-finned koi carp. In the distance one can see the blue glitter of the sea. It really is a view fit for a king, and even though you still don’t really know a thing about Donaka Mark other than he is wealthy and ridiculously good looking, you are happy for him. 

You set down the tray without making a sound, and he smirks at you as you bow your head, making to flee once more. “Sit down,” he orders, in the guise of a polite invitation. You recognize it immediately for what it is. 

“Sir…” 

You don’t know why the thought of staying with him twists you up in knots inside. Perhaps simply because you want to, even while knowing it is not your place to do so. 

“Sit,” he says again, and with a sigh you do as you’re told, perching on the edge of the chair. It’s incredibly peaceful, in this place. The sound of the fountain tinkling beside you, the salt-tinged breeze coming off the water beyond…for a moment, you close your eyes, perhaps because you can feel his gaze boring into you. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening between the two of you, but that little instinct deep inside that is rarely wrong–and you rarely listen to…is sounding the alarm. 

“This teapot is two-hundred years old,” he tells you, pouring a cup. Your eyes go a little wide, as you think about the heritage you’d unwittingly carted across the house in your two little hands. It must be very valuable. “It makes an exceptional cup of dark oolong.” 

As he sets the cup in front of you, as well as the little dish of dried fruit and nuts, you know you resemble one of those open-mouthed carp in the pond in your surprise. “Another auction-house conquest?” you dare ask. 

“Something like that. It was not cheap.” 

Your lips twist as you attempt to keep your wry comments to yourself. As usual–you fail. “Do me a favor and don’t tell me what you paid for it, if I have to carry it back to the kitchen.” 

He chuckles quietly at that. “You think it was a waste of money?”

“No, there are definitely worse things to waste your money on.” 

You realize a beat later that your comment sounded far more specific than you meant it to, your personal prejudices making their way out the cracks of your armor.

Lucky you, he seems amused by this, though you can’t help but wonder if it’s a trap when he asks, “Oh? Like what?” 

“I didn’t mean you specifically…” 

The flash of his smile is like a baring of teeth; you are equally mesmerized as you are mortified. Is this what the little deer feels, a moment before it is snatched up in the jaws of the tiger?

“Yes you did. Come on, tell me.” 

“I’d rather not.”

“Playing hard to get as usual. Is it my art collection?” 

“No,” you answer immediately. 

“My beautiful house?”

“No,” you reply again in earnest. 

“My clothes?” 

No, you rather like those too. You simply shake your head, wishing, as usual, that you could run away, or turn back time, and shut your fat fucking mouth. 

“Hmm. What’s left? Ah, it’s my cars.” 

You are practically writhing in your seat, as he hits this nail on the head. 

“Absolutely none of my business, sir.” 

“Of course it’s not, but where’s the fun in that?”

You sense the fun in this for him is making you sweat. 

“So go on? What’s wrong with them? Lamborghini not to your taste?” 

You take a sip of tea, closing your eyes momentarily to appreciate the flavor. It really was wonderful, bitter yet somehow silky on the back of the tongue. Enjoy it now, you think–he’s going to fire you in five seconds. 

“Well. If they make you spend that much…” you deadpan, “You’d think they’d at least have the decency not to make them so ugly.”

For a moment you think you are dead–not fired, but soon to be murdered–until a bark of laughter escapes this usually so-severe man, the flash of his white teeth startling in the sunlight. “I’ll be sure to tell them you said so,” he retorts, saluting you with his cup of tea, before taking a sip. “Though you might feel differently, if you’d let me give you a ride.” 

You freeze for a moment while reaching for a peanut. He meant in his car you deranged dumpster fire of a woman. 

“I’m sure…its performance is bar none,” you answer diplomatically. You see his smirk out the corner of your eye, and you feel your ears burning.

“So tell me, my little housekeeper with all the big opinions. If you had my money, what would you spend it on?” 

His money? As usual, you can’t tell if he is baiting you with the subtle choice of his words. You sigh, taking a piece of dried fruit. You think for a few moments, though it doesn’t take long.

“Honestly? The same thing I’m doing now.”

He chuckles at this. “You like cleaning my house that much?”

“It’s not bad.” Despite the probable ulcer developing from living in proximity to this tempting man. “But when my work visa expires in six months, I’m going to travel again.”

Donaka’s expression sharpens immediately at hearing this, his brows pulling in a frown. “You’re leaving us so soon?”

“I…told your assistant, in the interview. It wasn’t a secret.”

Donaka still glowers at you, and you can’t help but feel like you did something wrong. But he wrangles his emotions, whatever they may be, into a neutral expression. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You are obviously overqualified for this position.”

“I am educated, but I don’t really feel like that qualifies me for much of anything.”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, and you sense he is still annoyed with you. “What about your writing?”

You shrug, even while it feels like a knife delivered to your chest. “It’s never come to anything.”

“How hard did you try?”

You trace the rim of your little tea cup, gnawing at the inside of your cheek. 

“Enough to break my heart one more time than I could take,” you admit, suddenly feeling raw under his piercing gaze. Rejection is wearing. So is pouring your soul into something that only amounts to very little when you were foolish enough to hope. You’ve never managed to turn anything you enjoy into a money making endeavor. It always makes you feel like you’re dying inside. 

 Donaka, however, seems less than sympathetic. “You shouldn’t give up.”

You shrug, ready to change the subject. It’s not like you’ve stopped writing. You’re just not writing anything that can ever see the light of day. “I will take that under advisement.”

He narrows his eyes, like he doesn’t believe you’re taking him seriously. “You know what your problem is?”

“Would you like a list?”

“Very funny. But I think you’ve never truly been afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Exactly. I can tell. I think you’re intelligent, and maybe you’re tough, but you’ve never been to the edge of survival. There’s something about your contempt for the display of wealth that makes me think you come from it. You’re content with mediocrity because you know if you have to, you can always run home to mommy and daddy. You have a safety net that keeps you lazy.”

You blink at that. It’s maybe half true, though you would rather eat roadkill than go home to your father with your hand out.  “I’m not…lazy.”

“Of course you are. You’re certainly not realizing your fullest potential.”

This hurts way more than it should. Maybe…because he’s not wrong. This man has an edge of danger to him–it wouldn’t surprise you at all, to learn he’s a self-made millionaire. Maybe he had a rough childhood, and climbed over anyone he had to, to get where he is. Good for him. You wonder vaguely who he’s hurt along his journey to the top. Deep down, you know men don’t get where Donaka Mark is without someone paying a price. 

“Maybe not. But not everyone wins the big jackpot in life. I’m content with where I am now.”

“For now? And where will you go from here?” 

“India, I think.”

“Why?”

“There are still things I want to see.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Because I want to. Because I can. Why do anything in this pointless existence?” You are careful not to raise your voice to him, though your heart gallops in your chest like you are having an argument. The yawning void of your old friend nihilism opens up before you, a black hole you know well but haven’t had to contend with for a while.  

His lips curl for you, though it is not a nice smile. “You lack a sense of purpose.”

He’s not wrong, though you don’t think he understands you as well as he thinks. You find the endless march of humanity perpetuating itself tiresome and destructive. You find the rat race pursuit of wealth for the sake of winning a pissing contest exhausting. The hypocrisy of religion has never appealed to you. On the whole, you find homo sapiens to be a sad and ridiculous species with a few bright spots, but unfortunately you are one, you’re stuck here, and you have to find something to do with your time until you check out.

Usually you’re content in your own little world, trying not to harm anyone…but he flips this switch for you in two seconds flat, and you find yourself clenching your jaw as the weight of it crushes you down. You have to admit this was not how you expected this day to go. Silly you, for thinking you could just sit down with a book for ten minutes unbothered.

He pours himself another cup of tea, pretending that he doesn’t notice you’re stewing in an existential crisis while sitting across from him. “I could change that for you, you know.”

Confused and unsettled, which is probably exactly what he intended to do to you, you shift in your chair. Is he propositioning you? Or is he talking about something else entirely? You feel like a low-level current is running through your bone marrow, slowly cooking you from the inside. 

You’re not sure if he’s asking you to be his mistress–or to join a cult. Maybe it would be nearly one and the same.

From the flashing look in his eyes, you don’t think he expected you to laugh at him. It’s the only way you can get up the courage to say this to his face: “Respectfully…no one says that unless they’re trying to evangelize you into something, Mr. Mark.”

His lips dance as he smirks at you. “But you are above manipulation, Miss y/n?” 

“Probably not,” you admit, suddenly nervous all over again about where this is heading. Why does every conversation you have with this man have to feel like a fucking chess game? “Though I like to think…I am somewhat aware, at least.” 

“Being aware of manipulation is not the same as being immune to it, believe me.” Again he smiles wide enough to flash teeth, and you can tell he is truly enjoying himself now. “Can you really say that wealth doesn’t interest you? I don’t buy it.” 

“The ostentatious display of wealth doesn’t interest me,” you grumble, flashing back to the hellish court-ordered summers you once spent at your father’s tasteless mansion with your insufferable half-siblings always crowing about their latest couture conquests. 

“Ah. That’s why you hate the Lambo.” 

“No, I really do think it’s ugly.” It maybe feels too good to tell him so, after he was so brutally honest to you. However, you can tell immediately that you fail to hit your mark. He lifts his eyebrows, seemingly amused by your agitation, his dark eyes shining. 

You look at him sitting across from you in the dappled afternoon light; why does this man have the right to look so beautiful, while he’s being so mean?

“You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” you grouse. You really would rather be scrubbing a toilet right now. 

“I think if you had real money, you would do the exact same thing I do; use it to acquire things that please you. You’re no different from me, or anyone else.”

What is it about this man, that makes you feel like you’re being slowly electrocuted? You dare to meet his gaze, finding his dark eyes veritably dancing with enjoyment for making you squirm. You cannot help but wonder if he counts you as one of those things. 

Maybe Donaka Mark thinks you’re an underachiever, but you reckon this man might be surprised by your stubborn streak. No matter your fascination with him…you need to cut him from your heart, because you’re more certain than ever that he would be the death of you. You do not possess a thick enough skin to tangle with a man like this on a regular basis. 

“That might be true,” you answer, looking back down at your teacup. “But at least I’m not a bully.” 

“Have I hurt your feelings, y/n?”

He fucking knows he has, and you would give anything to be able to quit the table right then. You consider dropping his precious teapot on the way back to the kitchen; but think better of it, and not just because you suspect he might string you up by your thumbs. It would be a tragic loss of art.  

“May I go, Mr. Mark?” 

“Not until you answer my question.” 

“Yes, you hurt my feelings. Now may I go?” 

“No. How did I offend you? By speaking the truth?” 

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” you answer with a sigh, looking out at the glittering water beyond. 

“Well?”

You make a plaintive sound, wishing the ground would just swallow you up whole, rather than having to admit the truth out loud to this man. But he waits patiently, and you just know there will be no escape for you, until you give this man the answer he wants. 

“I thought…you liked me,” you answer quietly. “But never fear, I am disabused of that foolish notion, sir. Now may I go?” 

“I do like you. Haven’t you been listening?” He sounds genuinely puzzled. 

You laugh at that, and it sounds pathetic even to you.   

Now, at last, he seems as frustrated with you as you are with him. “Fine. Go back to work, y/n.” He makes a shooing gesture with his fingers, and you have never been so grateful to be dismissed in your life. 

You hope this little interlude will convince him to just leave you alone.

“Thank you, sir,” you say with a cloying deference, and you hear him growl behind you as you scurry away. It sends an agonizing thrill jetting down your spine, and it’s all you can do not to run. 

Little do you know, you haven’t scared him off by half. You just threw down a gauntlet.