#hives baby teething

[sceletaflores]

woo, my baby's got me all mixed up!

feat: logan howlett & wade wilson

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, swearing, a bastard doomed polycule, more of 'why have just one bf when you can two bf's and why have just two bf's when you can have two bf's that are also each other’s bf's???', p in v, double penetration, one (1) single use of daddy, creampie(s), fingering...kind of (fem!receiving), oral sex, face sitting, face fucking, straight up nasty porn w/ zero plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: this is a shorter one-shot but i can't not format it like a full fic i have to or i'll get hives. this is also just pure freak nasty gross actually probably the filthiest thing i've ever written that i thought up off too much nyquil pm last night. kisses!

wade gets to whiskin’ (and logan's there too)…

"You're killing me babe," Wade groans lowly, cheek pressed to the slick skin of your inner thigh. "If my balls didn't feel like they just got the shit beat out of them in a back alley I'd be as hard as David Hasselhoff watching David Hasselhoff movies."

His hand is at work between your thighs, thick index finger slipped into your sensitive, puffy pussy.

It should gross you out that he loves doing this so much. It should make your stomach twist with all the unpleasant feelings a normal person might get.

It should, but it doesn't.

The familiar stretch is lost from taking Logan and Wade at the same time, a rare thing in your sex life because of how big they both are. But you were in a mood tonight.

Your pussy still clenches around him, trying in vain to tighten up, not used to feeling so empty.

The subtle pressure of Wade’s finger toes the line between pleasure and the sharp burn of 'almost too much' as it swirls along the sensitive walls of your pussy.

The first time he did it you were too fucked out of your mind to do anything other than ask what the hell he was doing.

"Gotta mix it up babe," was his reply, as easy as anything. "Don't want the baby batter to curdle, if you know what I mean."

Your heart stopped, flames lapping their way up your body as Wade scooped the thin line of come trickling from your abused hole to fuck it back in, back where it belonged.

It was so filthy, so depraved that it made you go liquid between your legs.

Your eyes almost immediately slid over to Logan, ready to see him shaking his head in irritation like he usually did whenever Wade ran his mouth in bed. You found nothing, no deep grimace or raised brow in sight.

There was an unmistakable heat in his gaze that matched your own, the inky black of his pupils blown so wide you could hardly see the hazel of his irises.

The casual raise of his right shoulder when he met your eye was undermined by the way his cock started to harden where it laid against his thigh, effectively tattling on him.

It told you all you needed to know about how he really felt watching Wade between your spread legs. That alone was enough to get you ready to go all over again.

It sort of became a thing after that.

"I'm not even doing anything..." you mumble breathlessly, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't have to baby," Logan purrs from behind you, lips pressed to the top of your head. His hand skimming down the side of your body is enough to make goosebumps pebble along your skin, "Look perfect just like this."

It's been hours now, but they're still going. You're convinced that the two of them are the world's biggest horndogs, just once is never enough.

You lost track of tonight's rounds sometime after number five, not counting mouth and hand stuff of course. And it's starting to catch up to you, you’re tired, spent.

Wade curls his finger just right, brushing against the spot inside you that has a broken whine passing through your grit teeth. Your thighs start to tremble as a smug grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, there it is," he teases, his voice low. He keeps the tip of his finger snug against that spot, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nerves. "That's that spot ain't it, gorgeous."

"Wade," you mewl, hands fisting the sheets as you fight to keep still. You're worried too much squirming will make their come start dripping out around Wade's wrist, and you can't have that.

There’s a sudden silence to your right, the heaviness of it pulling at your attention. You shift slightly, catching the faintest rustle of movement from Logan.

His breath is warm against the crown of your skill, his strong chest still plastered to your back—but he's too quiet, too still. You tilt your head just enough to peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and the sight alone is almost enough to make you come on the spot.

Logan is leaning against the headboard lazily, arm that isn't circled around your waist snaking down his own with the hard length of his cock in his hand.

Your mouth waters at the sight of him, red and leaking pre-come all over his knuckles each time he twists his fist over the thick head. Your hips grind down unconsciously, a needy moan falling from your parted lips. The wet sound of it has your cheeks burning, eyes fixed on the way his heavy balls bounce with each rough tug, still so full.

"Fuck, that's it," Wade murmurs, slipping a second finger inside you while he presses a shit-eating grin to the soft skin of your lower stomach. "You like it when daddy jerks off while I'm knuckle deep in you?"

"Watch it," Logan mutters warningly, tone gone low and dark as spilled ink. His hand doesn't slow, the loose grip of his fist slipping up and down his dripping cock in time with the slick squelch of your pussy.

Your hips buck up against Wade’s hand, a loud whine tearing from your chest at the dirtiness of this whole thing. The familiar heat starts to stir in your belly, your pussy drooling more mess over his wrist the longer he plays with you.

Wade barely muffles his chuckle against your hip, dropping a quick kiss there before pulling his soaked fingers from your velvety warmth. You whine at the loss, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

You’ll both get what you want soon enough.

"Alright, we should all know the drill by now people," he announces to you and Logan with a loud clap, pulling away from between your thighs to roll flat onto his back.

“Time to hop on the saddle, John Wayne,” he finishes, giving your ass a loving tap.

Logan snorts into your hair, dropping his cock to grab your hips and gently manhandle you until you’re situated directly over Wade’s face while Logan kneels in front of you. The jut of his cock bobbing inches away from your mouth.

Wade’s greedy fingers pry your swollen lips apart to watch the way his and Logan’s come starts to seep out from you, falling to drip onto his bare chest. He blows over the wet length of you, the cool air from his mouth has your hips twitching down in search of any friction you can get.

“Not so fast,” he scolds lightly, grinding his knuckle against the wet seam of you. Your nails dig crescent moons into his scarred shoulders, threatening to break the skin.

“You’ve gotta savor this moment, hot stuff,” he says slowly, leaning up to press a kiss directly over your throbbing clit. “You got the best seat in the house, don’t take it for granted–”

"Enough," Logan grunts, heavy hands falling on your shoulders to push you down on Wade's face, fully closing the gap. "Quit runnin' your damn mouth and make our girl feel good, red."

Wade's hands tighten their hold on your thighs, his hips bucking up off the mattress like he can't help it. His surprised moan rumbles against your clit, loud and shameless.

You cry out at the first drag of his tongue over your aching pussy, hot and wet as it slides through your dripping slit. You pitch forward, too caught up in pleasure to think clearly as you take Logan’s cock into your mouth. You take him all the way down to the root in one swift move, burying your nose in the dark hair surrounding the base. 

"Fuck," Logan bites out, eyes twisting shut as he feels your warm throat enveloping him. He takes your hair in his fist gently, just holding it as you swallow around him. 

Your hands move to rest on his thick thighs, nails scratching over the hair scattered along his skin. His breath shutters in his chest, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly, chasing the tight heat of your mouth.

The mix of your tongue tracing along the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock and the low, wet sounds of Wade devouring you has him pulsing in your mouth.

Your thighs shake on either side of Wade's head, the steady grip of his hands the only thing that keeps you from collapsing into a boneless heap on the mattress.

Your hips twitch the tiniest bit, rocking forward enough to grind your clit over the slope of his nose. He groans under you, squeezing the meat of your thighs in encouragement as he swirls his tongue through the mess dripping from your hole.

“That’s a good girl,” Logan praises gruffly, his hips speeding up. “Shut him up, baby. Make him fuckin’ eat it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, dragging your pussy along Wade’s mouth faster. You moan desperately around your mouthful, brain going hazy around the edges.

The frantic pace you set only makes their come leak from you faster, dripping down Wade’s face faster than he can keep up, and there's just so much.

A steady, thick stream of it that feels almost never ending thanks to Logan coming like he busted a pipe and absolutely flooding your insides every single time.

Wade doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest though, swirling his tongue along you with a new sense of urgency. His hands grip your hips tighter, his blunt nails digging into your skin deliciously as he slurps and sucks with unbridled enthusiasm, chasing every drop of come.

He’s sloppy with it, come sliding down his cheeks and chin in thin rivers of white.

Logan’s rough breath hitches above you, his fingers tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks just the way he likes. His growl sends a thrill down your spine.

"C'mon, Wilson," Logan grunts, his hips speeding up. When you peer up at him, you can see the goading smile that just barely tugs the corner of his mouth up.

“Spitters are quitters, you know that."

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[harryslittlefreakk]

make me, darling

summary: harry and y/n’s shared hatred for each other finally reaches its breaking point when they realise how deep their feelings go. based on the prompt ‘do all of us a favour and just leave’

warnings: angst, drinking, harry being a bastard

wordcount: 2.2k

a/n: thank you so much to the anon who sent this prompt!!!! this was so fun to write

⚠️ obviously it goes without saying that harry is just a face claim and my characters are completely separate to him as a person ⚠️

masterlist | send me more prompts!

The moment Harry walked into the room, your stomach dropped. You didn’t even need to see him to know he was there, you could feel the shift in the air. It was like the temperature had dropped a few degrees, sending an icy chill straight down your spine.

Your rivalry was infamous among your friends, a tension simmering just beneath the surface every time you were in the same room.

You turned your head, catching sight of him just as he strolled into the party, a smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth. A heavy sigh slipped from your lips, your body stiffening.

It was the one night you’d promised Claire, the birthday girl, that you wouldn’t fight. It wasn’t a promise you couldn’t afford to break, after so many nights had been ruined by your constant bickering.

But it was Harry, and as much as you wanted to be civil, you knew him too well. The way his eyes flicked over you, taking in your appearance with a smugness that set your teeth on edge, confirmed your worst fear - he hadn’t come to play nice. Harry was already gearing up for a showdown. It was like a game to him, one he never got tired of playing, no matter how exhausting it was for everyone around you both.

You plastered a tight-lipped smile on your face, the tension already building, your patience already thinning. You’d never gotten along. Not since the first time you’d met. Where you were level-headed and diplomatic, Harry was all sharp wit and provoking comments. It was like he thrived off pushing your buttons, and tonight, he looked ready to push every single one.

As he walked closer, you could see the spark of mischief in his eyes, the slight quirk of his lips, like he was waiting for you to break the silence, to snap first. You took a deep breath, downing the last of your drink and reminding yourself of the promise you’d made.

Don’t fight. Not tonight.

But when Harry stopped in front of you, resting his hip against the tabletop, he tilted his head just slightly as his gaze lingered on you a moment too long. You felt the familiar prickle of irritation, heat spreading across your skin like hives. He raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as if he could sense your internal struggle.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, baby girl,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with that same infuriating arrogance you’d come to know all too well. His eyes trailed down your body, pausing just a second too long on the hem of your skirt.

Your jaw clenched, but you held your ground. He was baiting you, just like he always did. And no matter how badly you wanted to respond with something sharp, something cutting, something not too dissimilar to your fist flying into that stupid smirk, you couldn’t. Not there. Not tonight.

“Nice to see you too, Harry,” you muttered, turning your back on him to fix yourself another drink. If your initial interaction was anything to go by, you’d need a lot of alcohol in you, and fast.

But, of course, he could never leave well enough alone. You pushed through the crowds as he called something after you, refusing to give him any more of your attention. You’d said hello, you hadn’t murdered him, he didn’t need any more of your time.

You were determined to enjoy yourself despite his presence, to celebrate Claire’s birthday without any problems. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and your friends were in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, laughing and moving to the beat. You joined them, forcing yourself near the middle where you knew Harry wouldn’t reach you. Your body swayed effortlessly to the rhythm, the alcohol sliding down your throat with a sweet burn, a haze coming over your mind.

But no matter how much you tried to stay in the moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

You knew whose eyes it was without even having to look - Harry’s. You hadn’t seen him follow you, but you could feel his presence like a weight pressing down on you. Wherever he was, his gaze was unmistakable, sharp and unrelenting, cutting through the haze of the room.

Trying desperately to ignore it, you turned to Max, Harry’s roommate, letting him take your hand and spin you in an exaggerated twirl. The movement was carefree, but the moment you steadied herself against his side, you could feel it again - Harry’s eyes on you, burning into you with a mix of frustration and something you couldn’t quite place.

You cast a quick glance across the room, scanning for him. There he was, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, whiskey in hand, his expression unreadable but his focus entirely on you. Your eyes met for just a second, and it was like a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. Your heart skipped a beat, though you would never admit it. There was something about Harry, his arrogance maybe, or the fact that he was handsome enough to be justified in his arrogance, that left you reeling.

You tried to ignore the flutter in your stomach, the way your skin prickled with warmth every time you imagined his gaze sliding over your body. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For you to be aware of him, to get under your skin like he always did. The worst part was, as always, it was working, and you knew that you needed to slow down.

You could normally ignore the trail of heat that came with your arguments, but tonight was different. The frustration you felt simmering below the surface was mingling with something else, something dangerous.

Your skin felt warmer, the tension coiling low in your stomach with every sharp exchange. You told yourself over and over again that it was the alcohol working its way through your system, but that wasn’t the whole truth. It was Harry, standing there with that damn grin, looking at you like he could see right through you.

Your legs carried you towards him before your brain could fight back, the control you had over yourself loosening with each drink. You grabbed a hold of his wrist, pulling him towards the garden.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop.” you demanded, rubbing your forehead, voice barely audible over the pound of the music inside. “I’ve promised Claire we won’t get up to our usual shit tonight.”

Harry’s gaze flickered, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk. “I’m just making sure you don’t trip over that tiny skirt. I’m looking out for you.”

You leaned back against the brick, rolling your eyes as a shiver ran down your spine. You needed to fight back, not let your mask slip, but the alcohol was mixing with your frustration, the line between anger and something else blurring with every second.

You hated how he always seemed so unbothered, how he never let you have the last word. He enjoyed getting under your skin, and worse, you were so aware of your body responding to it in ways you didn’t want to acknowledge.

"You look flushed," Harry said, his voice dripping with fake concern, but his eyes gleamed with something else - he could see it, you realised. He knew exactly what was happening. He leaned in, his breath hot your her ear, and you could feel the heat rolling off his body. “What’s wrong, princess?”

You hated that he noticed, hated how your body betrayed you. You could feel your pulse thrumming, your thighs pressing together as you tried to hold on to your last shred of dignity. The tension between you felt unbearable now, thick and electric, and the alcohol had stripped away the thin layer of restraint.

You turned to walk away, desperate to leave before he realised how rattled you were, but Harry’s ringed fingers caught around your wrist, pulling you back to face him. He leaned in closer this time, his lips brushing against your ear. “Just a word of advice, that skirt - or lack of - makes you look a little desperate,” he whispered.

The word hung in the air between you like a lit fuse. Your temper flared instantly, wiping out arousal that was coursing through your veins. “That’s low, even for you,” you shot back, voice laced with venom.

Harry didn’t flinch, meeting your eye with an irritating calm. “I’m just being honest. If anyone wanted to take you home, I’m sure they would even if you’d made an effort to cover up,” he shrugged.

Your eyes shot down to his chest, where half of his shirt was unbuttoned and opened just enough for tanned skin and tattoos to show. “You wouldn’t know about desperate, would you?”

Harry straightened up, stepping closer to you, his gaze hardening. “It’s not judgment, baby girl. I’m just saying it how I see it,” he told you, his tongue rolling over his bottom teeth as he stared at you.

You rubbed your fingers over your lips, buying yourself some time before you did something you’d regret. His eyes sparkled as he watched you, his cheeks tinged pink with the satisfaction he got from watching you hold yourself back.

“Do all of us a favour and just fucking leave,” you told him, checking behind you to see if anyone was there to witness the pair of you ruining yet another social engagement.

“I’ll go if you really want me to,” Harry whispered, planting his hands on either side of your head, blocking you in.

That cocky tone was back, but this time, it sent a thrill through you. You should’ve pushed him away, thrown a snarky remark in his face, but instead, you stayed frozen, breath catching in your throat as his gaze lingered on your lips.

“Back off, Harry,” you muttered, but even to your own ears, your voice sounded breathless. He didn't back off, of course. Instead, he leaned in closer, so close that your faces were mere inches apart.

“Tell me that’s what you really want and I will,” he repeated, pulling his lip into his mouth as his eyes trailed across your face.

You glared at him, your chest heaving as you tried to calm the storm inside of you, the heat in your core mixing with the white-hot rage. “You’re insufferable."

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“I want you to leave,” you told him, cocking your head to the side as you tried to keep hold of your resolve.

“Make me, darling,” Harry whispered, his smirk widening into a grin, those fucking dimples prominent.

There was a sudden shift in the air, the charged tension between you twisting into something darker, more intoxicating. You stood there, inches apart, the silence heavy around you as the anger that had fueled your argument bled into something else. Your eyes locked, and in that moment, you felt the desire. It was undeniable, that pull that had been lurking beneath the surface for so long.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between them in a single, reckless move, your hands grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him toward you. Harry's breath hitched in surprise, but he didn’t resist. His mouth crashed down onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away, all the anger and frustration transforming into raw passion as his kiss dominated yours.

The kiss was messy, desperate, full of the fire that had been burning between you both for so long. His hands found their way to your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you even closer, as if he couldn’t bear the space between you for even a second longer. You moaned softly into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his curls as you poured every ounce of frustration, confusion, and need into the kiss.

Harry stepped between your legs, pressing you back against the brick with his bulge pinning you in place. His lips moved hungrily against yours, tasting the remnants of whiskey and something sweeter, something uniquely yours.

You were lost in each other, your bodies merging together as you both gripped and groped at everything you could reach, caught in the madness of your desire.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, your chests pressed together as you tried to steady yourselves, you could feel Harry’s eyes on you again.

The tension was still clouding the air between you, but it was different. It was no longer just anger and hatred, it was something deeper, something that had proved infinitely more dangerous.

“That fucking skirt,” Harry groaned, his breath warm as his lips moved over your neck, suckling at the sensitive skin.

“Now I would really like you to leave,” you told him, your voice breathy and quiet. But still, you made no effort to push him away, craning your neck to give his mouth more access.

“And I’d really like you to come with me,” Harry replied, his voice finally soft as his lips ghosted back over yours.

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Shots

Hardersson x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda cries

You lift your arms up and Pernille swings you up into your car seat, buckling you in. You wiggle happily and Pernille pulls a silly face at you to get you laughing.

At a few months past one years old, you've been successfully booked in for your polio shot.

You've been fairly good all morning and get into the car happily.

Pernille turns around to get the other child in as well.

"Magda," She says," Get in the car."

Her girlfriend stands by the closed passenger door, arms crossed over her chest. "No."

"Magda," Pernille says again," The car. Get in it."

"You can't make me."

"Then don't come." Pernille doesn't really have time for this so walks around to the driver's side. "You can have lunch ready for when we come home."

"No, wait! I'll come!"

Magda finally slides into the seat, buckling herself in and still stubbornly crossing her arms over her chest.

"Stop with the pout," Pernille says," She's going to get her shot. End of discussion."

"It's going to hurt her!" Magda insists," Why isn't there a spray we can give her? Why haven't they invented that yet?!"

"Because the injection remains the best way," Pernille replies," You can wait outside if seeing her cry really bothers you."

"No!"

Magda paces like a lion as you sit on Pernille's lap while the doctor readies your polio shot.

"It'll be quick," The doctor assures her," She won't even notice it."

You don't, not at first anyway.

Pernille clicks her fingers in the opposite direction to your shot and you tilt your head to follow the sound.

You don't see the needle go in and you don't react at all until Magda bursts into tears. You watch Magda cry and that immediately triggers your own crying.

"Magda," Pernille hisses as she bounces you," Why are you crying?"

"She's crying," Magda blubbers," She's hurt!"

"She's crying because you're crying."

"We're both crying," Magda agrees," Can-Can we cry together?" She holds her arms out for you and Pernille transfers you into them.

You're both sobbing by the time you get into the car and Magda insists on sitting in the back with you while Pernille drives.

Your own tears have petered off by the time you've gotten home though Magda still has a few spilling down her cheeks.

It's a little funny, Pernille thinks, that Magda burst into sympathetic tears thinking you would have already been sobbing which only triggered a wave of your own sympathetic tears straight back at her.

"Feeling better now?" Pernille coos at you as she picks you up out of your seat.

"She seems a bit feverish," Magda says, bottom lip being worried by her teeth," We should take her back. To check her out."

"The doctor told us this might happen," Pernille replies, unlocking the house with you on her hip easily," Which you would know if you'd listened when the doctor told us."

"Are you sure? What if she breaks out in hives?"

"Then we'll take her back but this is normal Magda. She's a little hot but that's fine. Anything else?"

Magda winces. "Her plaster's coming off."

"We've got puppy plasters in the bathroom cabinet. Why don't you grab one and we'll put it on her."

Magda all but runs upstairs to the medicine cabinet and Pernille shakes her head fondly after her.

She bounces you. "Your Morsa is such a worrywart sometimes. Honestly, crying because you got your shot. She's so silly."

You giggle a little bit. "Morsa silly."

"That's right, she is."

Magda comes slipping into the room, sliding along the floor in just her socks and nearly colliding with the tv. "I've got the puppy plasters! Do you want to choose which one you want?"

You lean forward in Pernille's arms as Magda shows you all the options, pointing towards the cartoon version of a spitz style puppy.

"Good choice!"

Magda unwraps it before sticking it straight onto where you've had your shot.

"Look at that, so pretty!"

You giggle again, poking your new plaster and Magda winces.

"Princesse!" She scolds," That will hurt you!"

"She's fine, Magda," Pernille says," She's forgotten it's even happened."

Magda frowns. "But how? It's traumatising!"

"Maybe to you but she doesn't care about much outside of cuddles and food. She's fine."

[kiwanopie]

“What does it look like to see crime lord!kiyoomi blow up at someone threatening the reader?”

cw: mention of bathroom (reader has to number one lmao), character death, death by suffocation

wc: 2.4k

His head immediately turns when he hears your voice calling out for him.

You’re breathtaking in your ball attire. Glowing under the balmy haze of ballroom crystal lights as you duck into his gaze. You’re radiant, and It’s a chore to look anywhere else as Kiyoomi scans the large hall, leaning in to get a better listen at your voice. “What’s up, angel?”

“Can you come with me to the bathroom?” You whisper. “I’m too nervous to go by myself.”

Kiyoomi pauses to delegate a pensive moment. He was supposed to mingle with OneSource’s people to check in on his annual contract bonding. ‘Course there’s no reason to think that anything has changed - they’d have a death wish to pull out from something like Sakusa Enterprises - but it’s etiquette, and it’s still important to maintain general communication. At the very least uphold his reputation as a studious businessman.

He traces the fullness of your eyelashes from where you look up at him. “Mhm.”

Kiyoomi reaches for your hand and leads you to the laboratory.

He’s not the least bit embarrassed to be leading his wife into the otherwise empty women’s bathroom. And even if it weren’t, he doubts he’d be any less unfazed. - Impassive still as he watches you glide your way into the cleanest stall and close the door behind you. Kiyoomi leans against the sink as he waits for you to finish your business.

“Can you turn the sink on? I don’t want you to hear me tinkle.”

“Tinkle?” Kiyoomi snorts as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Baby, I hear you tinkle every day in our bathroom. Just let it out.”

“Yeah, but this is a public place,” He can hear you pout. “And I’m already nervous. I don’t want you to make fun of me for spotting.”

Spotting. He quietly titters again. I mean, he’s brushed his teeth with you planted on the bowl before, a little piss staggering wouldn’t even faze him. But still he grabs a paper towel, and uses it to turn the nodule on one of the sinks.

“Thank you!” The better portion of your dress lifts over your heels.

It’s only a few moments that it takes till he’s hearing the telltale sound of an automatic toilet whir into the room. Even with his eyes planted on his phone, he sees you neaten your dress back down in his peripheral. Dark blues turn velvety in the bathroom lights, and pretty spaghetti straps fall loosely on your shoulders; and with the way your hair so lively shines as you walk, he’s nearly convinced that you’re an angel.

His eyes light up with familiar adoration as you approach him at the sink, the smile you pass him is enough to turn his cheeks flowery. “How long is this party gonna last for?”

“Till two, but we can leave earlier than that if you want.”

“Are you having fun?” The soap in your palms audibly squishes as you lather your hands.

Kiyoomi sighs through his nose. “I’m making good connections, but you know me. Huge crowds like these start to break me out in hives. The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”

You ring your hands in the sink. “That makes you and I both then. There’s so many important people here that I can’t help but worry. I don’t want you or anyone else to get hurt just cause some bastard has a vendetta.”

You move for the air dryer on the side of him. “I saw Onslaught and Shinobu wandering the halls together. Those two dudes make it desperately apparent that they despise us.”

“They’re attention seekers, angel. They - No, don’t use that.”

You look at him curiously as he moves you by the arm to the paper towel dispenser. “Those things are disgusting, they’re riddled with germs.”

He snatches a few out for you. “I doubt anyone here has ever bothered to disinfect these.”

You simper as you finally wipe your hands down. “Oh. Well, thank you for looking out for me, baby.”

“Always.”

Kiyoomi slides his phone in his pocket as you move for the mirror again. “They’re attention seekers,” He starts again. “They know what my status is, they know that you and I are the most prevalent family running the underground business nowadays. Anybody who’s anybody should know that the Sakusa’s have owned the better half of Asia for decades. - It’s easy for them to stay relevant when they’re feuding with the most powerful empire in the game; regardless of what risk they’re putting on their lives by doing that.”

You eye yourself in the mirror. “They’re cockroaches. They’re just feeding off us for a little bit of business talk. What will it take for them to understand that business doesn’t even exist if it doesn’t come from you in some way.”

The little boost to his ego already turns him pink, but the way you spin in the mirror has his lips curling over his teeth. “Yeah? You’re absolutely right.”

His reflection mirrors the way he reaches out for you, pulling you closer in his direction, and softly pinching your cheeks with his calloused fingers. “But it’s nothing you’ve gotta worry your pretty head about, huh? - You’re really cute..”

You pout up at him. “What if they pick a fight with us?”

Kiyoomi kisses his teeth. Uncoupling the little grip he has on your cheek to smooth it over with his thumb, and let his blithe gaze settle on the dip in your lips. “As if they’d be so stupid. Self preservation reigns, angel. They all know better.”

You give him somewhat of an unimpressed look. “Death isn’t the price you pay for slighting us, Omi.”

“You’re right,” He hums. “It’s the price they pay for slighting you.”

You lean into the kiss Kiyoomi presses gingerly onto your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Omi.”

“So much.”

“Show me.”

He leans in for another one. A little firmer, somewhat tailed by a quiet hum but the way you move forward to deepen it has him openly sighing into your mouth. Long, savory, tender lip smacking. - Smoothing his grip under your jaw till you’re all but making out like a couple of teenagers. That’s how you make him feel - like a teenager. Jittery and palm sweaty. Meekend as you moan into the kiss and he’s rapt by butterflies. Breathless when you part from him and still overdosing on that contact high.

God, “I love you so fucking much.” He sighs.

“I love you so much more.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t think something like that could be remotely possible.

_____

Kiyoomi pushes your seat in for you as you both take your spots at the grand table.

There are many very important faces here. From the face of your renowned husband, to well known yakuza leaders, - High ranking members of The Sinaloa Cartel, Solntsevskaya Bratva, Sun Yee On, and so forth. With this many dangerous people at one table, most controlling near global power, it isn’t unheard of to feel a little out of your wits. You can’t show your fear as much as you want to, sitting at this table with your husband means sharing the collective power he has - and representing it as well. Much like the other wives and spouses sitting with their respective criminal lovers, you keep your cool with a natural grace. Still pretty even as your palms start to sweat.

Ken Shōhei, leader of the sixth generation yellow fangs, raises his glass to propose a toast. He glitters with shined jewels and gaudy rings as they reflect in the chandelier light. You glance at his wife before glancing at him. Catching a less than friendly evil eye that chills you straight to the blue bone. If you had to guess, they’re friends of Onslaught. If you had to guess again, you’d say it’s probably upsetting to realize you’re not the hottest foreign wife in the room anymore.

“Beautiful people of this nation - of your respective nations,” He begins. “Let us take this moment to reflect on the novelty of such business making and our untaintable honor. To the choices we’ve made thus far that has led us here. The chances we take that - understandably shouldn’t work out in our favor - but has. Our fortune, our hard work, the allies we’ve made today and the friends we’ll make tomorrow. I propose a toast to us. To our virtues, and to our decency. Let us all come together and celebrate ourselves.”

His wife smiles as she picks up her glass. “To ourselves!”

The rest of the table brandish their cups and follow suit. “To ourselves!”

The chatter continues as most of them take a quick sip to their glasses.

Or well, all except for you and Kiyoomi, who’s got the flute halfway to his lips before you stop him in his tracks. “Wait, baby.”

“Hm?”

You lean in to whisper softly. “These glasses don’t smell clean.”

“Hm?” Kiyoomi furrows as he dips his nose in his champagne flute. “They don’t-? Oh. Ew.”

He reaches for your glass. “Don’t even touch that. We’ll sanitize our hands after they-“

Someone’s choking.

Someone’s hacking and gasping for air right in front of you. Loud enough to startle as your head whips in the direction of whoever it is coughing up a lung across the table, and Kiyoomi instinctively reaches for you - pulling you by the bicep as he prepares to step out of his seat.

It’s an appropriate knee jerk reaction for what actually unfolds in front of you. Kiyoomi forces you to your feet as Shōhei’s body crashes into the fine cloth of the grand table and sends the majority of their plates crashing down with him. His shrill wheezing cuts into the silence that befalls the group of leaders as they stare down at him. Twitching and flailing before finally seizing up and you all watch in horror as he eventually goes limp.

You all watch in dread as his wife follows. Nithya, Maciej, Jalmari, Takashi, and Yuina, dropping to the floor in similar fashion. Some fall back in their seats in an effort to save themselves, some face plant into their plates before unceremoniously hitting the ground, but they all meet the same fate. Foaming at the mouth and blue from asphyxiation, all poisoned by something lethal likely slipped into their drinks.

Kiyoomi is the first to break the long stunned silence, calling over one of his underlings to meet him at the table.

He shoves his drink in his face. “Drink this.”

The man does so without hesitation.

After a few long moments the faceless scout looks generally unharmed which immediately raises red flags, but it isn’t over yet.

He hands him his wife’s drink. “And this?”

Another sip, another few long moments.

And then he’s falling to the ground.

You both stare in sickened shock as he flails on the ground just as the other victims did. Gasping for air as his spit foams over and the vessels in his eyes burst from suffocation. He’s dead within a few tortuous minutes, and Kiyoomi all but turns blue.

He nearly breaks his back with how quickly he turns for you, already frantically cupping your face in his hands. “Did you eat anything on the table? Have you eaten anything?”

There are tears in your eyes, rightfully. “N-No.”

He’s shaking. It’s a rare moment of weakness for the revered kingpin. One of the most frightening, if not the most frightening man in all of Asia - glassy eyed at the realization of his lover coming so close to death. He’s pink under eyes, pupils twitching back and forth as he frantically scans your face for any sign of change. The men and women surrounding the two of you take pause. It’s clear this is a shock to you both. That the man in question would rather kill over than put his wife in harm’s way, especially one so gruesome. ~ But there’s layers to this collective suspension shared among the room. Shock, confusion, apprehensity.

Fear.

As expected Kiyoomi’s reaction is less than pleased.

“Miya!”

At the sound of Kiyoomi’s booming voice, Atsumu races into the ballroom and up to the table. “Boss- Whoa, holy shit.”

“Bring me the heads of everyone in the kitchen,” His voice is vitriolic. It sends shivers up the spines of every living body in here. “All except for the chef. Pack him up in the shuttle.”

The boldness of the demand knocks Shinobu out of his daze, he’s kissing his teeth not even a moment later. “Don’t just start giving orders like you-“

“Shut the fuck up, Shinobu. Be thankful I don’t start picking from the table!”

One of the other businessmen at the table speaks meekly. “W-Wait. Let’s just... Everyone just-“

“Enough!” Kiyoomi narrows his eyes. And even to the most lethal of men in the room do they quaver at the venom in his voice. Sakusa Kiyoomi is not known for being an angry man. A spiteful man, sure. Cold and callous and cruel, on his worst days a little psychotic. There’s a scowl on his face more often than not, a sneer almost in the way he speaks to his adversaries and enemies alike. He’s known for being a mean son of a bitch - the meanest, really. But not angry. Not down right irate. Not so wrathful in the way he addresses the crowd around him.

“Someone here,” He breathes. “Has made an enormous lapse in judgment. If not to the leaders we just lost at this table; than to threaten me - to threaten my wife, my family,”

He’s firm yet earnest in his efforts to keep you behind him, nearly yanking you back by your arm but you bump into his firm back with one of his hands fastened over your waist. “You must’ve all forgotten that there is no one on this earth who I can’t get my hands on - especially for something so despicable. Whether they're in that kitchen or in this room, every second of their worthless life is borrowed from me. - Goro!”

The host of the ball swallows as he answers quickly. “Yes, Sakusa-san, sir?”

“Get me the names of everyone who’s been in or out of this place within the last forty eight hours, not a minute short.”

“Yes, of course.”

Kiyoomi nods his head for his men to follow as he drags his wife out by the hand.

[ckret2]

Has the book of bill changed how you're writing the henchmaniacs? I remember in a past chapter, you presented them a specific way, but now that we have like, basic descriptions on at least a few of them thanks to TBOB, has that changed anything for you?

it's changed some things.

Xanthar, 8-Ball, Teeth, Lava Lamp, and Keyhole can stay the same—although I need to fix how I spell "Zanthar" and "8 Ball". I'm especially pleased that I called Xanthar is a lovecraftian god and Keyhole is the group Thompson.

The shapes are gonna be more difficult. I hinged a significant part of the late-stage plot on the headcanon that they're from Bill's dimension. I was ready to dismiss the Oracle saying Bill was the only survivor of his dimension with "it's a trillion years ago and she wasn't there, she's only received an incomplete version of events"; but hearing "until there was no one left but me, covered in blood, alone in the universe" makes it harder to just handwave away.

So either I need to find a loophole to keep them from Bill's universe that doesn't feel too cheaty (like, just saying "oh Bill was lying about being all alone" feels cheaty in this circumstance when there's no canon evidence that he's lying about that particular thing); or, I need to find a way to work my plot without them being from his dimension.

Amorphous Shape's characterization I'm gonna have to completely chuck out and rewrite, but I'm okay with that because I love the new characterization TBOB gave us. I'm still gonna keep her a hive mind though, I like that and it doesn't contradict anything TBOB gives us about her.

The trickiest character is gonna be Pyronica, given that I made Paci-Fire her son (look, that's a weird deep-voiced baby, SOMEBODY in the gang's gotta be his parent/guardian), and the book very clearly went "she dreams of settling down and starting a family... LMFAO not, could you imagine"

It's not totally unworkable. The overall plot arc I have planned for Pyronica—minor spoilers—is dependent upon her very much NOT wanting to have had a kid. So it oughtn't be too tricky to go "she so doesn't want to settle down... but somehow a kid happened anyway" and fit it into my existing plot; but it's gonna be harder to convince the audience "i'm not breaking canon, I'm just bending it, trust me bro" long enough for the payoff.

Maybe I could initially hide their relationship? Some kids call their parents by their name. I didn't initially plan for their relationship to be a secret twist, but Pyronica keeping it secret would make sense with the story I've got planned for her. So I could portray them as close but conceal the exact nature of their relationship and put off the reveal until we're close enough to the explanation for How This Happened. I feel like going "oh yeah btw she's got a kid in spite of what the book says" will be more convincing if it's portrayed as something that even within the gang is kept kinda hush-hush.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Of course! Luzhen has to be there to see everything! He doesn't get tto go into town much at all so everything is new and different! And he is very much an Explorer like his bug brother mama. Wukong kinda has to keep him up there or he'll bounce off and they'll never find him again!

The twins are, once again, tbe bane of my existence. This time the colors were what I struggled with most. They simply did not want to color. They're mischievous, but less so than normal. Rumble don't feel too food with all the noise even through the headphones so Savage jsut wants to stick close to their sibling and they both stay close to Mom, but they still throws bao at their big brother's head. Just to be stinkers.

Yuebei is very much staying close to Mama, but she's happy to meet Dinosaur Girl. Her hanfu is intentionally big because I imagine she's going through the first of many growth spurts, so she needs the room. Yuebei is the most excited about the parade because she likes fireworks like Mama does, but keeps trying to eat things she shouldn't.

Wukong is my pride and joy in that Pic. I tried very, very hard to make him look human but not too human while also not obviously being a monkey. Maybe they think he's a cat, idk, they jsut know that ain't a human. He's super tired with all the cubs but still very much a stern and loving mom, it's the experience with all the babysitting he does for his subjects. He is the first to drop his glamour and the only one to do so on purpose, dropping it pretty much as soon as Spider Queen's hive bots try to target one of his cubs to get them away. He meets up with MK somewhere in the middle and hands the babies over before going to do the monkey king thing. MK shortly hands them over to Sandy in turn to follow after but has to flee because gross spiders and his mom getting caught. I like to think thay while the interaction goes similar to how he got caught the first time, the actual capture happened because Wukong pushed MK out of the way and ordered him to run as soon as he realized LBD was there

referencing.

Luzhen is one misadventure away from Wukong making him a leash baby. He's so much like his big brother/adoptive mom that it worries Wukong sometimes. He just glad that his mini-me doesn't care for peaches XD

Rumble & Savage are so chaotic, they cause issues outside the forth wall. They def make a point of tossing bao buns at MK's head when he isn't looking - though he might just catch it mid-air with his teeth, he's had practice around these two. They likely try to avoid too much of the parade, but they still appreciate the visuals of the fireworks.

Oh gosh Yuebei hitting a (one of many to come) growth spurt and Wukong trying his best to find her nice day clothes that she hasn't outgrown. Yuebei hides behind her mama shyly before Mei says Hi, and suddenly the baby girl is excitedly pointing at Mei.

Mei: "Aww! Is she curious about me?" Wukong, sighs knowing whats coming: "Yes. She's fascinated with your skin." Mei: "No problem - these are my scale patches. I'm a d-" Yuebei, overjoyed: "Dinosaur!" Mei: "...Yep! I'm a dinosaur!" Yuebei: (*delighted giggling and bouncing in place!*) Wukong, whispering: "Sorry, she's in a big dinosaur phase." Mei: "Oh don't worry! I was a horse girl growing up! Gotta encourage her!"

Wukong is beautiful in the art. He's so soft and strong looking. I can imagine he steals MK away to see the parade for a bit (and ask him how well his experiences in the city are going), only to get blindsided by the Spider Gang's attack. A spider-bot scares the babies and immediately it's Monkey King-mode.

MK just gets handed his little siblings when it becomes obvious that MK is terrified of the arachnid enemies. Wukong knows MK isn't ready to take these guys on and doesn't want his eldest to lock up under pressure, so he tells him to take his siblings and get out of there. The twins argue that they want to stay and fight but protective mama Wukong ain't having it. MK runs to the Noodle Gang since Sandy is almost guaranteed to have a vehicle that can get them out of there (or barring that the HQ in the bowel of his ship).

And ofc as the pressure/severity of the situation increases, MK's own glamour falls apart - leaving a panicking monkey demon in the human's place.

Tang, triumphantly: "HAH! Told you! Monkey demon!" Pigsy: (*grumbling*) MK: "Huh?" Pigsy: "We sorta had this running theory that you weren't 100% human, kid." MK: "Since when?" Pigsy: "Since before you picked up the staff. I thought you were like, a human raised by demons or something." Sandy: "I personally thought you might have been part cat demon." MK: "...did anyone think I was just human??" Red Son: "I did." MK: "GAAHH! How'd you get on the ship!?"

Just a full chaotic New Years

[chernabogs]

Fractal

Inc: Malleus, Prefect. WC: 2k Warnings: Dream horror, consumption of rotten fruit, everything seems happy but there's an underlying layer of 'somethings rotten in denmark (briar valley)' Excerpt: “Nothing.” You reply steadily. “I just haven’t been here before.”  Liar. Malleus remains still for a moment before he laughs, and you hate how warm the sound is as the sun comes out once more. “Well of course you have not been here. That is why I chose this place—I wanted to show my friends my home.” 

It’s you who causes the cataclysm this time. 

He’s in a field that’s warm, and for once the sun—which beats down on him from a baby blue sky—does not give him a migraine, nor does it make his skin itch with the ghostly sensation of hives. He’s sitting at the end of a long dining table with a white tablecloth concealing its mahogany structure. It’s adorned with an array of foods; fruits, vegetables, meats—a cornucopia of delights to dig one's fingers into. It’s what he anticipates happening upon the arrival of his guests, who will fill the twenty-two empty wooden chairs that are present. 

His gaze remains focused on the far end of the field, where a gap in the trees that create a barrier around where he sits is present. He remains still, motionless, as though he’s a wind up doll waiting for someone to turn his key. The sounds of cicadas screaming from the distant pines and the warm wind that brushes across his pale skin do little to stir him out of this strange state. He hardly even blinks. He merely sits and waits.

Until you appear at that gap. 

Then, like that key turning, everything comes to life. He takes a breath in and sits up, a smile curling on his thin lips as his hands come to rest on that pristine, white tablecloth. He remains still as he watches you approach. Your steps are shaky, and you seem tired as you take your time to reach where he sits, as though every step is a labour for you to complete. When you finally reach the other end of the table, you draw to a stop, your gaze transfixed on the feast before you. Perhaps you are looking at the meat, or perhaps you are looking at the flies that are beginning to garnish its surface. 

“You got my invitation.” Malleus’ voice is warm, as though he’s attempting to project a certain image of himself to you. You glance towards where he sits. He looks composed, regal, in the plain wooden chair with the sun creating a halo behind his head. He gazes back at you, and it feels like those green eyes are slowly peeling away each layer of flesh, parting each tendon and muscle, until he can see the white of your bone beneath. You swallow.

“I did.” Your voice is quiet as you resist the urge to look back at the gap in the trees. Three more pairs of eyes watch you from within the shadows as you try to walk your way through these steps. You’ve done this before. Many times before. “It was kind of you to invite me.” 

His smile remains as he doesn’t reply for a moment before gesturing to the seat—the one next to him. “Sit, Prefect. You look tired.”

You move slowly around the table until you reach the seat to which he is gesturing. When you pull it out, it rips up the earth beneath it, causing the scent of dirt to mix with that of decay. He pushes a glass filled with a clear liquid towards you and you dutifully take it, although you refrain from raising it to your lips. He drinks unashamedly and without care. 

“Am I early?” You ask, selecting each piece of dialogue in your mind with caution. You watch as he finishes drinking, setting the empty glass down as he does. His lips are stained slightly red from the action and his tongue darts out to clean them, slowly running along the bottom one as his gaze goes back your way.

“Yes, but that is of little concern. I have no objections to being in your company a moment longer,” he muses, sharp white teeth flashing as he observes you with amusement. “The others should be arriving soon.” 

Malleus looks back to the gap in the trees as you study his profile. The skin beneath his eyes looks slightly bruised up and along his cheekbones—the area where his overblot patterning is. His hair is brushed back from his forehead, revealing the scales beneath, and his expression is fixed into one of childish excitement. He wears white, but the edges of his sleeves are stained. “They all received an invitation. I made sure of it. I am not apt to forget my friends, unlike some.” 

“Perhaps they got lost.” You murmur, looking at that gap in the trees yourself as you do. You can see movement within the shadows as you continue to buy your time. The scent of decay grows until you’re eventually forced to look back to the feast. Wrinkled fruit, greenish meat, drooping herbs, and liquidated vegetables; the sight makes your stomach curl as you keep speaking. “After all, this place is unusual.” 

“Unusual?” Malleus’ head turns to look back at you, his eyes still too wide, his expression too exuberant. “What is so unusual about it, Prefect?” 

You feel your breath catch in your chest as you stare back. The movements by the gap have stopped as well, as though the entire scene has been paused with your single comment. You can hear the rustle of that warm wind through the corn field behind you, and the sun is soon covered by a passing cloud. You clench your hands in your lap.

“Nothing.” You reply steadily. “I just haven’t been here before.” 

Liar.

Malleus remains still for a moment before he laughs, and you hate how warm the sound is as the sun comes out once more. “Well of course you have not been here. That is why I chose this place—I wanted to show my friends my home.” 

The tension dissipates at that moment as Malleus picks up a few figs from the table. He sets them on his plate and presses a fork into one. You try to ignore how squishy it is, or the green that oozes from its inside. “Wouldn’t it have been better if we had dinner at your palace?” 

He doesn’t reply as he spears one piece of rotten fig with his fork, turning it over slowly before holding it out to you. His smile still doesn’t dissipate. “No. I do not think it would have been. I want my friends to feel connected to one another. I want them to feel like a family.”

You glance at the fig piece. It sags on the metal prongs, making your stomach twist in disgust. There’s expectation in Malleus’ eyes that conceal a glint of something else—a test. So far you have been selecting the right reactions, but it isn’t sufficient. 

You lean forward, keeping your gaze locked on his as you take the fig piece in your mouth. You’re trying hard not to gag as you chew slowly before forcing it down your throat. There’s a lingering after-taste of rot present and you finally grab at the water glass.

He chuckles and leans back before picking up another piece for himself. “I admit, it’s a bit sour, but tolerable all the same.” 

Sour? It’s rotten, but you refrain from saying this aloud as you drink. You said it aloud before, and the results went as poor as they could go. There’s only so many times you and the others can formulate a plan before it becomes apparent that it’s all for naught. Eventually you set your glass down with a grimace and watch as it immediately refills itself. It’s magic, obviously—Malleus has been throwing his magic around unashamedly and without care. The soil nurtures him, the sun gives him life, the winds carry his words. He is both the creation and the creator of the feast you sit at. The executioner, and perhaps the sacrifice as well.

Or maybe that role is solely for you. After all, you are the one he is feeding right now. 

You tilt your wrist slightly to catch a glance at the watch you wear around it. Phones and technology are pointless here—not that you have your phone anyway—so Lilia gave you this as a manual means. The hands are not moving, and instead remain fixed at five to five. You are still in a dream. 

“Are you impatient?” His voice causes you to drop your wrist quickly and look his way. It’s hard to mask the surprise on your face. In fact, it’s quite pointless. That razor sharp gaze that peeled away your skin when you first approached now cuts incisions into your skull as he tilts his head, studying you. “They have five minutes.”

Five minutes will never come. You’re not sure if Malleus even knows this. It’s as though he’s settled himself so deeply into this dream he’s created—a tick, gorging itself on the magic of its own making, unaware of how its body swells and strains until the point that it bursts from over-consumption. He’s becoming inflated with his power. It’s how his overblot has not ended, despite the way he hides it with glamour. 

“Are you sure you invited them?” You ask cautiously again, testing the waters. You see a twitch in his smile—the corner of his thin lip wavering slightly. His eyes remain wide. 

“Yes. I wrote the invites myself. Everyone got one—Lilia, Silver, Sebek, you. Those of Heartslabyul, of Savanaclaw, of Octavinelle, of all the rest. I considered those from RSA, but I would rather keep the peace for this event.” His hold tightens around the fork. You can see the threads fraying. You push. 

“Are you sure the invites were received? Did anyone tell you they would come?” You murmur, leaning a bit closer. You hate doing this—this is someone you consider your friend, perhaps more in another life, and you are not an orchestrator of someone's mental fracture. The cicada’s stop screaming. Another cloud passes over the sun. 

“You never RSVP.” He replies, his voice now more monotone and colder. His smile remains but his eyes have slid back to the emptiness you’ve been seeing since his overblot began. He looks to you once more, and you scramble to see some remnant of the peculiar prince you’ve come to know in those eyes. “And yet you came.”

“I’ll always come,” you reply quietly, the scent of rot growing stronger with each word. You see movement in your peripheral vision again. The sky darkens further, and the wind begins to grow cold. “Whether you mean it or not, I’ll always come. But I cannot say the same for everyone else. Sometimes people don’t arrive, or they leave without goodbyes. Sometimes—”

His expression twists. It’s like a child hearing something they don’t want to hear, or when they’re denied a toy they want so badly to be theirs. His body stiffens and his upper lip curls. “Stop it, Prefect.” 

His voice is low, dangerous. You’re pushing it again, just like all the other times so far. You see another figure approaching the table. Someone with silver hair, someone who looks as though they’ve aged many years in mere moments. They hold a weapon at their side. Your own hand darts out and grabs Malleus’ arm. Despite the demeanour, despite the rage, his arm is solid and warm beneath your grip. 

“Malleus,” you begin, desperation starting to lace in your voice. You see a flash of green and hear the clattering of something hitting the table, and then he jerks his arm away. You feel the crushing sense of overwhelming power before with a snap of his fingers he’s in a field that’s warm, and for once the sun—which beats down on him from a baby blue sky—does not give him a migraine, nor does it make his skin itch with the ghostly sensation of hives. He’s sitting at the end of a long dining table with a white tablecloth concealing its mahogany structure. It’s adorned with an array of foods; fruits, vegetables, meats; a cornucopia of delights to dig one's fingers into. 

It’s what he anticipates happening upon the arrival of his guests, who will fill the twenty-two empty wooden chairs that are present.

[coffeeghoulie]

well you KNOW im gonna come in here and ask for mountrain. whatever your heart desires so long as theyre disgustingly in love abt it ♡

i gotchu <3 it's been a Hot Minute since I've written mountrain, hopefully this is sappy enough lmao

Winter peeks around the corner, temperatures dropping with the leaves, everything dreary and grey before the first inevitable snowfall covers the dead vegetation, brown grass and barren trees. Mountain slips out of bed and makes the trek down to his greenhouse every morning, long before the sun rises, to make sure his plants, his babies, are ready before the snow chokes the life out of them.

He can feel the coldspell incoming, feels it in the way the his joints start aching, deep in the bone. He swallows hard, looking at the work he has in front of him. The glass panels need to be inspected for damage, replaced and insulated. The pipes need to be drained, so they don't freeze and burst. All of his fragile plants need to be covered and brought inside. The whole building needs to be cleaned, top to bottom, including his makeshift nest area in the back corner.

It's necessary work, Mountain knows it, has done it every fall for years. It still doesn't mean he likes doing it. It's, for lack of a better term, a mountain of work. But it has to get done. So Mountain squares his shoulders in the pre-dawn darkness and gets to work.

He loses himself in it, doing his best to ignore his sore joints as he hauls potted plants inside, checking over each leaf and stem for disease. He works, making countless trips in and out of the freezing air as the sun starts peeking out over the treeline, tinging the dark sky with pinks and oranges, the budding light softening the florescents that light the greenhouse.

It's quiet work, almost meditative, which means he jumps nearly a foot off of the ground when someone knocks at the door. Mountain spins, very nearly dropping the potted petunias he's hauling in. His heartrate calms as he realizes it's his mate, waving at him through the glass. He smiles, warmth spreading in his chest, gesturing for Rain to come in.

Rain slips into the greenhouse, latching the door behind him. He's got two large thermoses tucked under his arms, and Mountain groans in appreciation, striding over to his mate and taking the thermos Rain offers to him.

"G'morning, sunflower," Rain says, voice sticky with sleep. He's clearly just woken up, pulled on one of Mountain's sweatshirts, the hem coming down to his mid thigh, over his pajamas and made the journey out to the greenhouse in the cold November morning just to bring him tea.

"Morning, tadpole," Mountain says, cupping Rain's jaw with a big hand, leaning down to steal a kiss from his mate. His skin is cool to the touch, and Mountain tries to push his body heat into his mate like a fire ghoul would.

Rain hums, shivering as Mountain's pinkie brushes against his uppermost gill. "Bed was cold," he whispers against Mountain's lips. "You'd been gone so long, figured you might like something hot to drink."

Mountain pulls back, reluctantly letting go of his mate's face to crack open the thermos. He's hit with the herbal scent of his favorite tea, steaming up and curling around him. He takes a sip, eyes fluttering shut as the taste hits him.

"I love you, tadpole," Mountain says, groaning as he greedily drinks down his preferred green tea blend, the one he adds mint to. Rain knows just how he likes his tea, two spoons of honey from the hives he keeps.

Rain grins, flashing his serrated, shark like teeth before taking a swig from his own thermos, the smell of chai drifting from his. "Love you too, Mount," he says, leaning in to nuzzle against his shoulder, not quite awake enough to fuss over the dirt that always, inevitably, ends up caked on Mountain's clothes while he works.

Mountain sets down the thermos, turning back to the water ghoul and wrapping his arms around his waist. Rain smiles wider, looping his arms around Mountain's neck, standing up on his tiptoes to do so. "Hey, baby," Rain laughs. "What's up with you?"

He sighs, Rain's smile contagious. Mountain ducks down and presses a kiss between Rain's seaglass horns. "So glad I met you," he whispers against the blue black waves of his hair, mussed from sleep.

Rain nods minutely. "Me too."

The world shrinks until it's just the two of them, no cold bed, no ever-looming snow. They stand there, basking in the warm humidity of the greenhouse and each other's presence. Everything smells of green tea and plant life and rich, warm earth.

Eventually, Rain pulls back. "It's cold, sunflower, how are your hands holding up?"

Mountain makes a noncommittal noise, but Rain levels him with a glare, and his shoulders slump. "A little stiff," he admits, removing one hand from Rain's slight waist, examining the redness at his knuckles, wind-whipped and raw.

Rain hums, snatching Mountain's hand in between his own. "Oh, baby, that looks like it hurts," he says, rubbing his thumb over his tender knuckles. "I know you've got that balm somewhere, the one with the aloe and the calendula?"

"It's back by my bed," Mountain says. "I'll put some on when I've finished this."

"Nope." Rain chuckles, slipping out of Mountain's grasp and rummaging through the cabinet near Mountain's personal corner. "You've been at this for hours, sunflower, we're putting some of that on, and we're going to take a cuddle break, and then I will help you get the greenhouse finished, okay?"

Mountain smiles as Rain returns with the tin of balm, already opening it and taking a dollop of it. "Alright, tadpole."

Rain takes his hands, rubbing the ointment into Mountain's knuckles, tenderly caressing the damaged skin. He works in silence, before capping the balm and taking Mountain by the hand, leading him back to the daybed he keeps in the corner.

Mountain kicks off his muddy boots before laying down, opening his arms for his mate. Rain follows suit, unlacing his boots before tucking himself into the crook of Mountain's arm, snuggling into the earth ghoul's embrace.

"I love you," Rain whispers, eyes slipping shut.

Mountain yawns, long and low. "I love you too."

[allthingsfangirl101]

To The Rescue – Steve Harrington

Steve's POV

Y/N Henderson and I started dating right before I found out about the UpsideDown. When I found out that Dustin had dragged her into all this shit, I was furious. It was right after we killed one of the demodogs and were hiding out at Will's house. Y/N came running into the house and instantly went to Dustin's side.

~•~

"What happened? Are you okay? What's wrong with you? Why would you go after. . ."

"Y/N?" I panicked, interrupting her. I ran over, pulled her away from Dustin and into my arms. We broke out of the hug and I led her to the kitchen. The second we were alone, I leaned down and crashed my lips onto hers. I felt her smile against my lips as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

"What are you doing here?" I asked when I broke the kiss.

"Well, Dustin told me that you guys were planning on going . . ."

"He told you about all this?!" I couldn't help but snap. I let go of her and was about to run to Dustin and beat some sense into him. Y/N grabbed my hand and pulled me into her chest. She slid her hands up my chest and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"Breathe, baby," she whispered. "I've known about all of this long before you did, but Dusty made me promise not to get involved."

"You knew?" I stuttered.

"Oh, come on," she chuckled. "It's Dustin dealing with weird science-fictiony stuff. Of course, he told me."

"I hate that he told you," I sighed.

"Steve. . ."

"I don't want you anywhere near this shit, Y/N," I cut her off. "I mean it. I need you safe. I can handle running after the kids, protecting them from all of this weird shit. But if you were running around with us, and I couldn't keep you safe. . . If something happened to you. . . I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."

She stood on her toes and delicately pressed her lips to mine. "I'm not involved, baby," she whispered. "And even if I was, you would never let something happen to me."

~•~

Ever since then, I've constantly checked on Y/N whenever something has gone down. The second we stopped fighting, I'd drive straight to her house. There were many nights after a fight that I'd sleep next to her. It got to the point where I couldn't sleep unless I was holding her.

Tonight, we were using raw meat to lead Dustin's lizard pet and friends to the junkyard. A while ago, Dustin ran off to go check on something while I continued leaving a trail. Once I finished, I went back to my car.

"Steve!"

I turned around to see Dustin running toward me. "What's wrong with you?" I chuckled.

"Y/N's gone."

"She's what?!"

"I went to the house, but she wasn't there," he started to explain. "Her car was still at the house. Her backpack was there, but she wasn't. I asked my mom but she hasn't seen her since after school."

"Maybe she's at my house," I said, trying to remain calm.

"I tried that," Dustin mumbled. "No one was there."

"She's not. . . Then where is she, Dustin?" I asked through my teeth.

"I don't know," he sighed. "But I have a theory."

"What?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"She might've. . . The hive mind could've. . . There's a possibility. . ."

"Spit. It. Out."

"The hive mind could've grabbed Y/N."

I went over and opened the trunk. I reached in and grabbed the bat of nails. I gripped it so tight, my knuckles immediately turned white. I turned to Dustin to see him watching me closely.

"Let's go get our girl back."

* * * * *

"Shouldn't we tell the others?" Dustin asked, briefly changing the subject.

"No."

"They could help."

"No."

"But maybe Hopper can help us."

"No."

"Are you sure? Eleven can. . ."

"I said no," I snapped. "You and I are going to do this alone. We aren't risking anyone else's lives."

"What if we can't find her?"

"We'll find her."

"It took us weeks to find Will."

"We'll find her."

"And we never found Barb."

"That's not going to happen to Y/N."

"I never should've brought my sister into any of this."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"If something happens, it's all my fault."

"Little bit."

"I can't believe I brought her into this."

"I wanted to keep her away from it."

"But she's smart. I figured she could help us."

"She has."

"I love my sister, but she's not much of a badass."

"Yes, she is."

"She doesn't really like doing anything adventurous."

"So? She's still a badass."

"She sits at home, reading. Honestly, I'm not even sure why you would go out with her."

"Hey," I scoffed. "I like your sister. She's funny and smart and sweet. I don't care that she isn't adventurous. I like spending date nights, sitting around, and watching movies. She's the whole reason I'm not an asshole anymore. I knew that if I really wanted her, and I did, I'd have to grow up."

"We have to save her, Steve. If we don't. . ."

"Stop!" I yelled. I froze along the path and turned toward him. "You gotta stop, Dustin. I can't handle you talking about Y/N like she. . . Like we aren't. . . We are going to find her. We are going to go down the hive and find Y/N. You and I are going to bring her home. I'm not losing her."

"Holy shit!"

I stopped walking and turned toward a smirking Dustin. "What?"

"You're in love with Y/N."

I turned my focus back on the path. My thoughts went back to every moment I've spent with Y/N. I thought about her smile and her laugh. I thought about the feeling I got when I held her hand, when she laid her head on my shoulder, when she fell asleep in my arms, when we kissed. Every moment we spent together was burned into my brain.

We haven't slept together because she was a little nervous. I didn't mind waiting. I wanted her to be comfortable with me. I'd wait years if it meant that I was the only one who got to hold her, hug her, kiss her, love her.

"Yes."

"Wait, really?" Dustin gasped. "Steve, cut the shit. Alright? This is my big sister we're talking about. She's not one of your drunken one-night stands. She's not one of your bimbos."

"I know that," I said. "She's not one of my drunken one-night stands. She's not one of my bimbos. I care about her, Dustin. In fact, you were right. I'm in love with her. And I am ready to do whatever it takes to bring her home."

* * * * *

When we finally got to the hive, Dustin and I carefully lowered ourselves into the tunnels. After some debate, we finally decided which way to go. The entire way down the tunnels, I made sure to keep Dustin safe as my thoughts constantly went to Y/N. I had to find her. Once I did, I'd wrap her in my arms and never let her go.

"Can you promise me something?" Dustin asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," I shrugged. Dustin grabbed my arm, making me stop.

"Promise me that when we find Y/N, you'll tell her the truth."

"The truth. . ."

"About how you feel," he clarified. "I hate to tell you this, but Y/N used to think she'd never find someone to love her. Since you do, you need to tell her. She needs to know that someone can love her, that someone does love her."

"She really thought. . ."

"She's always thought it," Dustin shrugged as he started walking again. "My mom and I kept telling her that she would find someone, but Y/N always thought that she was too quiet to get a guy."

"That's ridiculous," I sighed. "Just because she's quiet doesn't mean a guy won't fall in love with her."

"Then promise that you'll. . ." Suddenly, Dustin stopped talking.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked. I turned and saw what he had stopped him in his tracks.

Y/N wrapped up in vines.

I ran over and immediately started ripping them off her. Dustin was quickly by my side, helping me free her. When we got her free, she fell forward. I quickly caught her, lowered us both to the ground, and brought her into my chest. I wrapped my arms tightly around her as my heart rate slowed down.

"Is she okay?" Dustin asked.

I looked down and delicately moved some hair out of her face. I gently pressed my fingers to her neck and held my breath as I waited to feel her pulse. I let out a soft chuckle when I felt her pulse against my fingers.

"She's okay," I said, letting out a sigh of relief. I pulled her back into my chest and kissed the top of her head. "She's okay."

"Steve?"

I gasped and looked down as Y/N's eyes fluttered open. When she looked at me, a sob got stuck in my throat.

"Hi," I whispered.

"You found me," she giggled weakly. I leaned down and smashed my lips onto hers. I felt her smile as she reached up and cupped my cheek while our lips moved in sync.

"I'll always find you," I whispered, breaking the kiss. I glanced over at Dustin before turning back to Y/N. At the last minute, I decided to wait.

"Let's get you home."

I stood up and instantly helped Y/N to her feet. She smiled when Dustin ran over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I'm okay," Y/N whispered. "Dusty?"

"Yeah?" He asked, quickly pulling out of the hug and eagerly bouncing on his toes.

"Can we go home?" She asked, her voice breaking. "I'm really tired."

"Sorry," Dustin chuckled. I wrapped my arm around Y/N's waist and helped her back down the tunnel. Once we got to the hole, I turned toward her.

"You okay?" I asked as I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I don't know if I'm gonna be strong enough to climb up there," she admitted. She looked down, hoping to hide her embarrassment from me. I gently grabbed her chin and made her look back up at me.

"Don't worry," I whispered. "I'll get you out of here."

I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. She smiled gently as she kissed me back. We broke apart when Dustin groaned.

"You promised you wouldn't do that in front of me and now you've done it twice."

"Sorry, Dusty," Y/N said, the tiredness coming through in her voice. I smiled when she leaned her head against my chest.

"Dustin, climb back up and run to my car," I started instructing him. "I have a rope ladder in my trunk. Bring it here and tie it to a tree. It'll be easier for Y/N to go up a ladder than to try and climb up the rope."

Dustin looked at his sister leaning against me and nodded. As quickly as he could, he climbed the rope and ran to my car. While he was gone, I turned toward Y/N.

"Baby?" I whispered. "Can you tell me what happened? How did you get down here?"

"Can we sit down?" She asked. I nodded and instantly helped her sit down. I sat next to her and she leaned against me.

"What happened, gorgeous?"

"I had just gotten home," she started to explain. I almost told her to stop because of how tired she sounded. "I was dropping off my backpack before going to see you."

"You were on your way to see me?" I couldn't help but ask. I subconsciously tightened my arms around her.

"Before I left, my Mom needed me to do something in the backyard," she continued quickly. "One minute, I'm checking on my Mom's garden, and the next. . ."

I leaned down and kissed the top of her head when she didn't continue.

"It's okay, baby," I whispered. "You're safe now."

"He kept showing me. . . Things," Y/N said, her voice breaking as tears started streaming down her face.

"Baby, you don't have to tell me anything. Let's get you home."

"You'll stay the night, right?" She asked as she looked up at me. "Please?"

I reached up and cupped her face in my hand. I leaned down and delicately kissed her. When I broke the kiss, I kept my face inches from hers.

"Of course, baby," I whispered. "I'll stay over as long as you need me."

"Y/N? Steve? You guys still down there?" Dustin called from above.

"Yeah," I called back. "We're still here. Y/N needed to sit down."

I stood up and turned back around toward Y/N. I extended my hands and helped her to her feet.

"Let's get you home, gorgeous," I whispered. With our hands intertwined, I led her over to the rope ladder. "I'm right here, baby. Just take it one step at a time."

Before she grabbed the rope ladder, she turned around. She gently pressed her hands to my chest as she stood up and kissed me.

"Thank you for finding me," she whispered.

"I'd do anything to find you," I whispered.

"Come on, you weirdos!"

"You go first," I chuckled. "I'll be right behind you."

Y/N kissed my cheek before shakily climbing the rope ladder. I stayed right behind her, like I promised, just in case she fell. When she reached the top, Dustin helped her the rest of the way up.

The second she was safely with her brother, I quickly climbed the ladder. When I got to the top, Y/N was in her brother's arms. She turned to me and smiled when she saw me.

"Can we go home?" She asked.

"Of course," Dustin said, trying to laugh.

I walked over and wrapped my arm around Y/N's waist. She stayed pressed to my side as we walked back to my car. Dustin got in the back as I helped Y/N into the front seat. When I got into the driver's seat, she scooted over and leaned her head against my shoulder.

When we got to the Henderson house, Dustin checked on his sister one last time before grabbing his bike and heading to check on Will. I kept my arms around her and escorted her inside.

"Is your Mom home?" I asked as I closed and locked the door behind us.

"No," she sighed. "She's been working late a lot. She's saving up for Christmas."

"Is she going to be okay with me staying over?"

"I don't know," she mumbled as she shrugged. I laughed as I walked her over to their couch and we sat down.

"Are you hungry?" I asked. "I could make you something to eat."

I started to get up but she stopped me. "Please don't go," she said quickly. "I just. . . I need you."

My heart melted as she started to silently sob. I tightened my arms around her, pulling her as close to me as I could get her.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promised. "You get some sleep and I will be here when you wake up."

"Before I do," Y/N stuttered as she sat up and turned toward me, "there's something I need to tell you."

"Okay," I whispered. "What is it?"

"I love you," she blurted out quickly. I was so happy, I couldn't think of anything to say to her.

Which may not have been the best thing for her. Her eyes filled with tears again. She started to get up but I stopped her. Instead of saying anything, I gently grabbed her face and pressed my lips to hers. I felt her slowly start kissing me back. When I broke the kiss, she looked at me confused.

"I love you, Y/N Henderson."

[marvelmaniac715]

I wrote a poem about the children in the hive in TGWDLM. Fittingly, it’s titled ‘The Children’:

See the children; skipping, laughing

Smiling, playing, singing, dancing

See the way their bright eyes gleam

All the same shade of blue

See the way the blue goo stains their mouths

Filling in the gaps of lost teeth, staining like paint

The children don’t finger paint anymore

See the little boy who chewed on his nails

Using his ragged, bitten fingers as claws

His teeth as sharp fangs, as he tears into his baby sister

See the little girl, who hummed on her way to school

She hums still, but now her hum’s taunting and cruel

See the tots, as young as seven, smiling as they aim guns at their parents

Innocently asking: “Mommy, daddy, don’t you wanna see Heaven?”

See the babes, once filled with vibrant life

Taken to their Lord’s embrace, and taught new rhymes

Still smiling when their cheeks are no longer rosy

Still dancing when their scraped knees bleed blue

Still laughing - singing - as the remains of blue tears crust their little eyes

See the precious babies, innocent of the peril

Drinking their bottles, infused with blue goo

See the parents crooning lullabies at these helpless infants

To drown out the wails and screams

Nobody comes to kiss them goodnight

Nobody bothers to flick on the night light

Their unbroken voices ring clear in the air

And, if one has the ear to listen

They may hear the remnants of the children’s fear and despair

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Silm September 2024

September is a busy month for me, and I'll be on holiday...

BUT, for what it's worth, I'll try to get a few of these in!

Fire - Silvergifting - Drabble

I want you cause we’re both insane - Finrod x Maglor - 115

Chains - Maedhros x Sauron - Drabble

Open me up - Finarfin x Eärwen - Drabble

Power Dynamics - Haleth x Caranthir - 105

Now come and fuck me, baby - Melkor x Mairon - Drabble

Stars - Varda x Nienna - Double Drabble

The innocence is gone - Melian x Thingol - Drabble

Butt plugs - Erestor x Glorfindel - Drabble

In the most biblical sense, I am beyond repentance - Maedhros x Fingon - Double Drabble

Mutual Masturbation - Aredhel x Celegorm - Drabble

I want your leather studded kiss - Oromë x Celegorm - Drabble

Scars - Nerdanel & Anairë & Eärwen - Drabble

I drink the honey inside your hive - Aulë x Yavanna - Double Drabble

Outdoor sex - Nerdanel x Anairë - Triple Drabble

And I don't care what you say, I want to go too far - Finrod x Turgon - Drabble

Hidden Identity - Maglor x Daeron - Drabble

I try to talk refined for fear that you might find out how I’m imagining you - Fëanor x Nerdanel - Double Drabble

Seed - Curufin x fem!OC - Drabble

Darling, you're so pretty it hurts. - Finrod x Celegorm - Double Drabble

Ritual Sex - Galadriel x Celeborn - Drabble

Canine teeth in the side of my neck - Thranduil x Finrod - Drabble

Feathers - Gothmog x Eönwë - Drabble

And I run for miles just to get a taste - Aredhel x Thuringwethil - Drabble

Worship - Fëanor x Fingolfin - Double Drabble

Young lovers with their legs tied up in knots - Irmo x Estë - Drabble

Harem - Fingon x Sons of Fëanor - Drabble

My hands are shaking from holding back from you - Idril x Maeglin - Drabble

Biting/Bitemarks - Finwë x Thingol - Drabble

I burst into flames so brilliantly - Maedhros x Fingon - Drabble

[nomsfaultau]

Dumbest question ever but what are the pros and cons of being in a relationship with any of the sbi crew because I. Genuinely don't know how to choose without practicality and whatnot wkdjkwalwk

I'm incredibly aroace so take all this with a grain of salt. Also this is so very specifically my scp au and is just for the bit. But from what I can tell:

Tubbo

Pro: Free honey. Can fly to get up to the top shelf. Plus they're a buy 1 get 3. Of the Hive members, Rhodes was straight up in a successful marriage for like 40 years, so they know how to do long term commitment and love. He can talk you out of jail. Rosalind has been deemed psychically and personality ‘hot’ by the discord and there are not a lot of women options if you like those.

Con: Well Jasmine is a precious baby, so sometimes that isn't your spouse depending on who is fronting. Also. I imagine having a partner who is a husk filled with honey is not always ideal. Such as during a bear attack.

Philza

Pro: Literally this post if you want malewife scp Philza propaganda. His whole thing is undying dedication to someone. Can preform bridal carries no matter what. Best option on s’more night. Very warm hugs. Muscles if you like those. Conveniently gender/sex fluid for personal preferences (might take a few years tho). Remembers you for all eternity.

Cons: will murder anyone who inconveniences you. Unless that is a pro for you. Also has no life except waiting for you to get home, loser.

The Blade

Pro: Big. Strong. Fluffy. Very fluffy. If you’re a furry, there you go. Like imagine just sinking into his fur and disappearing. Can instantly embarrass anyone you don’t like in any type of challenge.

Cons: no board game night. Will win any argument with you. Is the least romantically inclined of the group by a lot (not that anyone is cause again aroace writer). Cannot fit inside most houses.

Wilbur

Pro: 100% Tumblr sexyman archetype. You could fix him. Okay ignore the fact you could say that about all of them. Height difference no matter what, sharp teeth, tentacles.

Cons: Afraid of commitment. Might eat you, unless that is a pro for you. Refuses to sleep near anyone. Human racist. Will eat out of the dumpster.

Tommy

Pro: Extremely loyal. He would die for you. Also the easiest of the lot to get into human society. Can get your enemies to pick a fight with a bear.

Cons: Just can't hold hands with that man. Or touch him at all. Leaves residue everywhere and ruins blankets.

Plus like, personalities or something maybe idk

[dragonsdendoodles]

Hey, don't know if you did that yet but do you have any hcs for our little princess Claire ?

I haven’t yet but I absolutely do, only the best for our littlest peculiar!

- I really like the idea of Claire being interested in ice skating. I talk about it a lot with Horace (because surprise surprise, the figure skater likes to shove his sport in everyone’s faces,) but the immediate next idea I get is that if Horace finds his way to an ice rink, Claire follows him and he teaches her how to skate.

- On that note, Claire and Horace being besties is just a really cute idea to me. They’re very similar when you think about it, I like to think they get along wonderfully

- Stealing this from the movie (because it’s one of the only details I like from it,) but when they’re not bickering about something I think it would be really funny to see Enoch pick her up and take her places. I’m this close to making a sticker of Enoch carrying Claire and they’re both just staring at you and judging you intensely

- She has a princess tiara like Olive does but she gets worried about ruining it so she doesn’t wear it nearly as much

- I know Museum of Wonders mentioned her backmouth can in fact speak, but I don’t think she knows that. Personally if I’m remembering the description right I think she’d be a little bit scared of it if she did honestly

- Not really a headcanon since we do kind of see it, but I think out of everyone, Claire gets sick the easiest. She’s that one kid at your elementary school that was allergic to everything and had to bring homemade cupcakes anytime someone had a birthday so she wouldn’t be left out

- On that note, I’m giving her my penicillin allergy, because I break out in hives if you give me it and through realizations about different kinds of cheese and evidently why they taste funky to me I can’t give it to Horace so sorry Claire we can suffer together

- Other than Bronwyn, Olive, and Miss Peregrine, if she’s hanging out with someone it’s either Hugh and Fiona or Enoch and Horace. The former two she sees as Parent Friends the same way Bronwyn is and the latter two she just thinks are funny

- Her hair is naturally curly, but she has Bronwyn help her make it neater.

- She’s probably the pickiest eater of the bunch, tied with Enoch. She will however steal dry spaghetti and eat it one noodle at a time

- When Fiona came back, Claire refused to let her out of her sight for multiple years. Minus Hugh, Claire is the most strongly attached to her because it’s at the very least heavily implied that Claire had to be the one to tell Hugh what happened in Miss Wren’s loop and I don’t like that she’s too little don’t do that to her

- Every year for Halloween she and Olive are princesses. Every time. They love it. Miss Peregrine is their queen.

- Her backmouth is also baby teeth, so if you let her age in the present long enough she will lose them too. She hasn’t lost any of her normal baby teeth as of living in the new loop, but she has lost two of her backmouth teeth and received appropriate tooth fairy visits.

Apologies for the lack of doodle for her, for me it’s five in the morning 😅 I’ll reblog this with a sketch when I make one though

[somepsychopomp]

toxic yuri custody battle pt. 1

As promised, I'm trying to write a fic where bubblegum and marcy survive the fall at the end of The Star and Bonnie is stuck raising Finn.

This first chapter is just to set up the rest of the fic but in the future, I'd love for Bonnie to get intensely attached to Finn & for Marcy to constantly threaten to turn him just to get back at Bonnie (and maybe she likes them both despite them being prey...)

(There will also be lots of rage-filled toxic love/hate yuri)

Excerpt:

“...you could join me…”

All day, the only thing Bonnie could hear was The Star’s mocking tone echoing in her dome. 

Her knuckles were bruised dark pink from punching vampires and, more than once, her own tank out of frustration. Repairs were going painfully slow, far longer than the original sixteen hours that Tank originally proposed. After all, she was working alone, was still recovering from her injuries, and had to handle attacks from stray vampires foolish enough to consider her easy prey. 

And then there was the child.

Word count: 1822

+++

Bonnie only barely escaped with her life. 

Her plan gone to shit, the fall, The Star… 

In those moments of weightlessness, she was ready to accept her own death in exchange for The Star’s demise. When she was young, she had visions of rebuilding the world after the extinction of the vampires at her hand. A permanent home, perhaps even her own nation. Peace and prosperity under a blue sky.

But with the non-vampiric population crashing, with all plant life withering and dying out from the endless dark skies, Bonnie was willing to lay her dreams to rest along with every other ally she watched perish.

She was ready to put this all behind her.

But she didn’t die in the fall. And she couldn’t kill The Star, either. 

The horde of vampires sent to save their princess pulled Marceline from Bonnie’s grip and left her to plummet to her death. Before she could think, her centuries of survival instincts kicked in and she unsheathed two of her stakes. Bonnie gouged them into the side of the vampire hive to slow her fall before making her escape into the decrepit tunnels and sewer system below.

The vampire drones chased her, of course. They sought vengeance for their princess and the approval of their king. 

But even then, Bonnie refused to die. She returned to her tank with her clothes in tatters, none of her stakes or other weapons remaining. Covering in wounds oozing sugary syrup. 

All she wanted was the armored safety of her tank. What she didn’t expect was that damned child. 

“Ah, ma’am!” the Tank A.I. said, “Your heart rate is erratic and you are bearing at least five wounds that will require immediate-”

“Can it!” she said. Bonnie could feel her hands shaking. She walked past the baby playing on the floor, almost stepping on him. The interior of the tank was listing from side to side. Or was that her?

The panels within her mobile home slid open to reveal their stockpile of medical supplies. She sat herself in the little alcove and tried to focus on what to do next. Bonnie’s first instinct was to reach for the jet injector already primed with anesthetic. 

She hesitated.

When she had a team, she could immediately dose herself with pain killers and trust that either Huntress or Martin would patch her up in her addled state. Now, she had no one. 

Without a word, Bonnie grabbed one of the hundreds of stakes they had and clenched it between her teeth. She set to work cleaning and sewing her wounds herself. All the while, Tank kept talking to her. She was updated on the auto-repairs the tank was able to make on its own, primarily to internal systems. But the treads and other exterior damage would take at least two hands to fix. So on and so forth. She wasn’t really paying attention and Tank knew it, too. But it helped to have something fill the silence, something other than her labored breath. 

When she was done, the stake she used as a bit was pockmarked with imprints from her teeth. She threw it to the ground, spat out some splinters, and finally allowed herself to reach for the anesthetic. 

“Oh, ma’am.”

She snarled and clenched her fist. “What?”

“The baby!”

She looked. In between long and slow blinks, she saw the human child waddle across the floor. He was reaching for the stake. Bonnie didn’t think it was a big deal, she wielded a stake herself the moment she was big enough to hold one. But the pointed end was much sharper than the baby’s discarded toy sword, and because of her biting, the wood had splintered a bit. 

Bonnie, unwilling to get up from her seat at the infirmary station, merely kicked the stake farther away. The baby paused and looked at her with bewilderment. 

She narrowed her eyes and thought, If you start crying, I sweat to-

Then the child changed course and came right up to her. He put his hands on her bloodied boot and slowly raised himself to his feet. He smiled at her. 

“Where… where’s the others?” Bonnie asked. She was beginning to slur her words. One way or another, she wasn’t going to keep awake for much longer. Her wounds and fresh stitches throbbed beneath their itchy bandages. 

“What others, ma’am?” Tank asked. 

Bonnie swore under her breath. Those strange outsiders from another world, they didn’t make it, then. And they left their fucking baby in her tank. 

Tank said, “Please, you need to rest. I can keep watch over Finn.”

She blinked. “Finn?”

“My recordings indicate that at least once, our new friends referred to the child as Finn.”

“Oh,” she said, tired. Bonnie would have to decide how to handle the situation later. She finally injected herself with those blessed drugs and crawled into her sleeping tube. As she began to lose consciousness, Bonnie heard the hydraulic slide of her tube doors opening. She wanted to tell Tank to close them, but she could no longer find her voice. 

What she did detect were two chubby hands feeling their way in the cool darkness of her tube, pawing at her dirty boots and ripped pants, before coming to rest near her hip. 

Bonnie fell asleep to the sound of her guest’s shallow snoring. 

+++

“...you could join me…”

All day, the only thing Bonnie could hear was The Star’s mocking tone echoing in her dome. 

Her knuckles were bruised dark pink from punching vampires and, more than once, her own tank out of frustration. Repairs were going painfully slow, far longer than the original sixteen hours that Tank originally proposed. After all, she was working alone, was still recovering from her injuries, and had to handle attacks from stray vampires foolish enough to consider her easy prey. 

And then there was the child. 

Against what would usually be her better judgment, Bonnie left the entrance to the tank open. She had to come in and out too frequently to keep it closed, but despite Tank’s best efforts to keep the child occupied, the baby was still determined to crawl outside and get himself killed. 

There used to be a good few human settlements at a distance from the vampire hive. A handful with populations in the hundreds. One with a population in the thousands, well guarded and heavily armed. More than one would’ve been happy to take in the baby, to give him to some parent who’d lost their own child to disease or vampires. 

But as Bonnie said to The Star, the population was crashing. Had crashed, even. Those settlements were almost all gone now. All that remained in this wasteland were loners and tiny groups of survivors. 

There was no one else who could take in the child. 

And as much as Bonnie was concerned with the big picture -slaying The Star and the Vampire king, driving their kind to extinction- not even she could simply abandon an infant to the elements. 

That still didn’t mean she was happy to have him around. Humans aged slowly, it’d take at least a decade before he’d be able to fight. 

Bonnie grunted and heaved as she refitted the tank’s metal plates, ignoring the way the stitches in her side pulled and ached. It wasn’t pleasant, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as when she had to replace the treads or get the tank off its side. 

A little voice in the back of her head asked her, what was ten or so years to the hundreds she already lived?

She had survived alone, in groups, as a child, and as an adult. Martin and Huntress and all the allies she had before were all born into this world, too. And they put up a good fight. She still never would’ve condoned bringing a child into this world, but he was already here now. And he was stuck with her as much as she was stuck with him.

A shrill voice giggled behind her. Speak of the devil. 

Bonnie raced back to the entrance of the tank and caught the baby before he could tumble over himself. She set him back inside. 

“Stay,” she said, as if he were a dog. As if there were any dogs left in this world. 

But the baby only cooed at her. He brandished a small, wooden sword and waved it through the air. It looked like a stake that Huntress hadn’t finished whittling, but in the hands of a little kid it might as well have been a mighty blade. Bonnie hadn’t noticed it when she first returned, but her tank was littered with ripped up toys and more than one damaged A.I. sensor. 

It seemed like the baby ran out of worthy opponents in the tank and sought a greater challenge elsewhere. 

Or he was just restless and Bonnie was merely projecting on him. 

The baby babbled his nonsense and seemed to ignore her. He slapped his sword against the floor of the tank as he gazed up at Bonnie.

Then he hiccuped and made a series of alarmed sounds. 

Bonnie felt a shiver go down her spine and spun on her heel, stake already sailing through the air. 

She missed the vampire that’d snuck up on her. It hissed and lunged, but killing was like second nature to her. Bonnie had another stake in her hand before she knew it and a moment later, the vampire was replaced by a cloud of dust. 

“Excellent eye, young man,” Tank said. 

Bonnie went to retrieve the stake she threw. “Hey, I was the one who got it.”

She sheathed her weapons and absentmindedly touched her eye-patch. Since losing her eye, she was loath to admit she lost some of her depth perception. Hitting targets at even a mild distance was a little more challenging than she was comfortable with. 

So she made up for it by expanding her arsenal and improving her hand to hand combat. 

Bonnie returned to the child and picked him up for the very first time, examining him. 

He smiled at her, his free hand grabbing at the air. He seemed interested in her pink hair. 

“Sugar’s bad for babies,” she said. 

The child ignored her. 

Bonnie sighed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to rebuild her team again, get herself some more people she could rely on. 

“Sorry you had to wind up in this world. But maybe…” she said, staring at his innocent eyes, “Maybe you’ll do alright.”

Bonnie would never call herself the nurturing type, but she liked the idea of having someone who could carry on her work if she were ever to bite the big one. 

The Vampire King had his ward, maybe what she needed was one of her own. 

Letting his fist close around her finger, Bonnie said, “Welcome aboard, Finn the human.”

[isabeauwolf]

I don't know who's other oc's would do this but, Mary would drag Tomura out of his room to made the man take a shower and make him something to eat.

--------- sneak peak ------

Did this male on survive on instant ramen and energy drinks? Was Kurogiri not feeding him? Mary though every time she caught a glimpse of the lanky males body, the poor man was underweight and she didn't like it. She couldn't help it, the nurturer in her was screaming to give this stubborn, bratty, whiny man baby some actual food.

From the videos All For One had send her as part of her request, she man was quick on his feet and a quick thinker when push comes to shove, but it won't be enough, if the man wanted to surpass his Master. He needed to build his body with muscle to throw people off in case he's unable to use his hands.

Another thing she noticed was his constant scratching. It reminded her of Kai's hives whenever he used his quirk, but instead of hives or a rash appearing on Tomura's neck, he would just keep scratching whenever he was frustrated, irritated or stressed.

A coping mechanism, if she had to guess.

If Tomura scratched at his neck whenever she was around she would slap his hand away and threaten to place her pair of quirk erasing handcuffs she used for capturing her targets; that made him shut up.

His face burned a bright shade of red. From anger or embarrassment, she didn't care.

It's only been almost a week and this is already going to be a long training session. Mary though and inwardly sighed.

"Fine, whatever," he huffed, sliding off the bar stool and marching around the bar towards his room in the back. "I'm continue gaming so I don't have to look at your ugly face," muttering under his breath and gritting his teeth.

Mary giggled it was fun to tease Tomura Shigaraki, it was clear that he was a loner, and she imagined that his deadly quirk didn't make things any easier.

Kurogiri walked through the threshold, his brightly yellow orbs staring hard at the she-wolf. "Lady Silver, why do you tease Master Tomura so much? It seems unwise to anger him."

Mary blinked, "He doesn't need to be babied, Kurogiri. If he's going to be a man-child and act like a baby, throwing temper tantrums while I'm trying to offer him guidance than I'll treat him like a child." She sighed, tying her long silver-white hair into a high ponytail, "All For One wants me to train him in leadership. I can't do my job, if he's being difficult. We are running out of time and my time limit is almost up." She walked over towards the mist user, squeezing by and continued down the hall, following Tomura's scent. "I'm retiring after I'm married."

Kurogiri's eyes widen, quickly turning and watch walk away. "So soon after your return, Lady Silver? Have you already found a mate?"

Mary stopped in her tracks, ear twitching and she tilted her head from the shock in his usually calm voice. "Yes, Kurogiri. A promise is a promise, and I intend to keep it." She left it there and kept walking.

It makes sense, she has only been back in Japan for a few weeks.

A pout formed on her lips, her engagement to Kai wasn't official until tomorrow morning. Then everyone in the underground will know of their arranged marriage and their wedding soon after; followed by the rest of the world. She will still be her clans heir, next head and queen, but she will be forced to stop taking on requests; the missions and assassinations will be carried out by her men.

Reaching a door that had the Tomura's name on the door, Mary closed her eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled and knocked on the door.

The man's rough voice answered, "I'm busy, go away."

Mary's smile widened as she swallowed back a giggle forming in the back of her throat, and knocked again.

"Dammit, I said go the fuck away!" He raised his voice, irritation and annoyance clear.

Mary turned the handle, finding it unlocked. Rookie 0, Mistress 1 she inwardly laughed, opening the door, watching as the man behind the door jumped, he was sitting on a beanbag, and he nearly disintegrated his controlled in his hands, if his pinky's hadn't halted.

Crimson iris' meeting violet and gold, his shock and surprise morphed into disbelief, anger and then rage. "What the fuck are you doing in my room, wolf bitch?" He growled, twisting his body to half way face her. "I said that I wanted to be left alone. Now get out."

Mary glanced around the room, Tomura's scent was everywhere.

Everywhere she looked, she saw opened and empty soda and energy drink cans, dirty clothes cluttering the floor. The inner clean freak in her was going off and she had to stop herself from snorting through her nose as her lips tightened into a strained, sickly sweet smile. Curse my overly cleaning nature, thanks Gramps.

Crossing the threshold, into his room and stood right behind him as the man before her glared harder, scowling. "What?" Pausing his game and placing his controller down onto the floor, turning towards her fully, waiting. "Whatever your gonna say spit it out already."

"God, it smells like stale musk, and a gaming loser in here." She's laugh "Come on, time to get out and touch grass, newbie!" Curled her lips into a smirk as she grabbed the back of his black long-sleeved shirt, dragged Tomura from his room, kicked, seething and cursing as he threatened to turn her into dust. "Wouldn't wanna anger your Master, gamer boy. I ain't leaving until you bath and eat something."

They reached the bathroom, she let him go, giggling as he quickly and instinctively jumped away from her, stood and glared. She tilted her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "What? Do I need to bath you like a baby too?"

His crimson eyes widen underneath his mop of light blue hair. "Of course not!" He growled, a deep blush reddening his cheeks. "Get the hell out of here you, perverted wolf!" His hands twitching, curling and uncurling.

Mary chuckled, "Nudity doesn't matter to me." She twirling on her heels, her back to him, giving him privacy, tail swishing back and forth lazily. "Whatever naughty and sinful thoughts are you thinking in that head of yours, online junky?"

"Nothing, dammit!" He growled, walked into the bathroom, slamming the door, locking it. Tomura stripped hastily, mumbling and cursing underneath his breath. "Damned wolfy." With a four fingered touch, practiced ease, he turned on the water and walked into the shower, body jolting in shock at the cold water before it warmed up. "Stupid, nosy, bossy, woman."

"I can hear you loud and clear, even through the water running, newbie." Mary commented behind the door, raising her voice.

Tomura turned, glaring through his wet hair as he jumped once more and cursed when he dropped the soap. "Are you my guard dog now, or what? Why are you lurking outside the bathroom?" He question, picking it back up, lathering up the bar of soap in his hands with four fingers. The unfamiliar scent hit his nose, his brows furrowed. What the fuck? This isn't my usual soap. Cocking his head as it clicked, where this familiar feminine scent came from, oh come the fuck on! Tomura stared at the bubbles, jaw clenching, heat rising in his cheeks once more as his heart thudded hard in his chest, "Were you in my bathroom, wolfy?!"

Mary's string of giggles and cackles were his only answer as she spoke through barks of laughter, "Sorry... sorry... Kurogiri offered me the shower while you were gone... when I came back from my morning run." She huffed out a few more chuckles as she calmed down, breathing labored, "Don't worry, I don't have any cooties or nothing. What are you like five? If it bothers you so much, you can either have it, or I'll take it back, which it is?"

She was in here, naked? Tomura's eyes widened at his own gross thoughts, shaking his head to will the h-scene images away. Damn this woman. His inner bratty self answered and mouth moved before his brain did. "No, I touched it, it's mine now." Why the fuck did he say that?! He gripped the soap against his chest as if she was going to break into the bathroom and take it from him like a spoiled child.

Why did part of him want her to come in?

"Alright, suit yourself." Mary replied without a fight. "I'm going to make you something to eat before going home. Take your time, don't speed-run in there, m'kay?" The floorboards creaked as she walked down the hall and away.

The nerves twisting in Tomura's belly slowly went away as he released the breath he didn't know he was holding and his body relaxed. Leaning his head against the shower wall, closing his eyes and sighed, trying to steady his breathing back to normal. He knows why his Master wanted her to teach him, he knows his Master wouldn't be here forever, and he will have to take up the torch as the next Symbol of Villainy and Evil, the next Overlord and Demon King.

What Tomura doesn't get is why this mysterious wolf woman getting into his head in such short amount of time? He usually doesn't care about other NPC's or mobs unless it was necessary for the quest line to move on.

She's not like the others. She doesn't fear me. She smiles at me, it's genuine and heartfelt. He thought reopening his eyes once more, blinking and sharing at the bar of soap that was hers. He inhaled its scent again, vanilla and brown sugar, it's the same sweet fragrance she wore on her skin earlier. It explains why her hair was damp when he came back, she had used his bathroom, washed and bathed here instead of waiting until she got back home or a motel.

Tomura placed the bar back into the soap holder, placed the lather and suds over his body, he felt himself shudder as goosebumps formed and spread on his skin, releasing a silent gasp. Why? Why was her scent and the though of her running her hands over his body clouding and fogging his mind?

----------- end of sneak peak------

I know, I talk about Mary's relationship with Overhaul and Dabi a lot on here, so I figured I'd give Tomura some love too.

Compared to her other two mates, Tomura and Mary butt heads a lot.

She doesn't coddle him or baby him, but pamper him and feed him, yes. She can't let the man-child under her charge go hungry.

Well, what's think?

[forasecondtherewedwon]

The Ladies Whistledown - chapter fourteen

Pairing: Eloise x Penelope Rating: T Word Count: 3141

read on tumblr: one | two | three | four | five | six seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen

This will be the last time. These were the words Penelope repeated to herself throughout the day. When Prudence ordered her about. When Prudence criticized her. When Prudence demanded yet another compliment on how she looked in her wedding gown. And she did look lovely, but Penelope could only say it with sincerity once, and she had done that voluntarily when her sister had first gotten dressed. After, she forced the niceties through her teeth, thinking those soothing words: This will be the last time. Prudence was marrying Dankworth. Penelope was about to be free.

As close to free as she ever had been, anyway, since she would of course still be sharing a home with her mama. But, of the Featherington daughters, Penelope had been born last. She had hardly had a moment’s peace. Endless had been the pokes and pinches to her baby and toddler self, the expectation as she had grown that she existed to be a sort of maid to her sisters—helping them redo their hair, denying herself certain dishes at mealtimes because they were Philippa or Prudence’s particular favourite. These things—these things that had been made to feel like duties rather than options—were done now. Though her mama was a controlling and capricious force, at least she did not fill each of Penelope’s days with a thousand trying moments, like thrusting one’s hand into a hive of bees.

“The prettiest bride I have ever seen,” Penelope offered this time. She rearranged the train of Prudence’s gown (her sister kept fussing with it) and went into the church without looking back.

Due to Mr. Dankworth’s lack of title, the assembly was relatively small. It was hardly the sort of event for which all of Mayfair scrambled to get an invitation. There was not a Bridgerton in attendance. Even without Eloise there to exchange glances with across the aisle, Penelope found the ceremony extraordinarily endurable. With every look, with every word, the responsibility for her moodiest sister transferred from the Featheringtons to Mr. Dankworth, heaven help him. At a slight pause in Dankworth’s vows, Penelope curled her fingers into her palms, making anxious balls of her lace-gloved hands. In a moment, he resumed and she relaxed; he had not changed his mind. On the contrary, he was apparently overcome with emotion and had required a moment to compose himself. Penelope did not understand how someone could love Prudence so much, so quickly, but then, perhaps, it was because he knew so little of his wife.

It was strange, Penelope reflected as the ceremony concluded. It was strange that society demanded a lifelong partnership from passing acquaintances, or even strangers. Certainly, marriages were sometimes orchestrated between families who knew each other well. However, as men often married older and women as debutantes, even these matches were frequently between a pair who had been young man and baby to one another in their overlapping youth. They were not based on friendship—familiarity, but not friendship. Friendship was rare.

During the reception at Dankworth’s family home afterwards, Penelope paid another compliment or two to a Prudence who was already much less concerned with her, including that her wedding had been and would be the season’s most beautiful. It was spring, but barely, and the social season had not yet officially begun. Therefore, Penelope’s words were perfectly (if carefully) true. Prudence’s wedding did not share a season with that of any person of social consequence. Penelope wondered if there would be another Bridgerton wedding soon, and whether she might attend as Eloise’s guest.

She thought of Eloise quite a bit—the day of Prudence’s wedding, and later. Truthfully, she felt she thought of Eloise oftener than she ever had; their lives, after all, were snugly bound. They penned Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers together. They enjoyed a close friendship with which no other could compete. When Marina married Colin, their families would be forever joined. Penelope savoured the thought of it as she had once savoured the most scandalous pieces of gossip.

Suppose Penelope did not marry. If not quite scandalous, it would certainly not be celebrated. It would be considered sad, a failure, and yet Penelope had accepted spinsterhood as a possibility a little more each season. The primary reasons she still attended events like balls were: her mother’s mercenary motives, society’s expectations for her as a young lady, and, most of all, to see Eloise. Marriage to a suitable gentleman would address the first two, but devastate any prospect of continuing the third. Marriage would get entirely in the way of her closeness with her very dearest friend, the most special and singular person in her life. This was why Penelope spent the early spring contemplating spinsterhood with new tolerance—in fact, new relish.

Of course, the sharpest thorn in this briar patch of a plan would be the need to remain in her mother’s house, or else in the house of either the new Mrs. Dankworth or Mrs. Finch, no doubt shunted into the role of nanny and vocally pitied during every visit. As none of Penelope’s relations had yet managed to discover her enormous secret, there was a good and relief-inducing chance that she would maintain her business of writing the gossip sheet. This would be a bright spot. What seemed better—best, actually—were the opportunities to visit Marina, who would be sharing a home with Colin. And Eloise could visit her brother at the same time, and they could pass those days together, every so often, and life would still have meaning. Meaning, even without a husband or children or a home of her own. Meaning with Eloise. Penelope could imagine it quite clearly, and often did, taking solitary walks as the trees came back to life again, unravelling their green.

—

From abroad, Colin continued to write. Penelope read his letters with as much interest as ever, though without the near-painful yearning she had once felt each time she unfolded his pages, hoping they might this time contain some hint that she was particularly dear to him—that, though he wandered, he thought often of her. It was something of a relief to her not to feel such a thing any longer. She felt she enjoyed their friendship more because of it, and anticipated his marriage to Marina with her whole heart. As she had once been their greatest adversary, Penelope was now their most enthusiastic champion.

Colin had written and told his mother. He had not originally intended to, but Penelope had insisted he ought. The rationales for taking such a step were numerous, including that it would reassure Marina while he was away, and not put her in an uncomfortable position if he were to once again announce their engagement without warning upon his return. It seemed clear to Penelope that Colin should do things as differently as possible to how he had the first time. He was more than ready to agree.

When Eloise wrote to express her own delight over the solidification of the impending union, Penelope passed on his sister’s good wishes to Colin. It seemed she was still not a very diligent correspondent to anyone but Penelope. This was a frequent and well-meant jest between Colin and Penelope, who both thought far too well of Eloise to criticize her lazy letter-writing in earnest. With Colin’s engagement to Marina accomplished, and heartily approved by his family, and with plans communicated for a possible date for the first reading of the banns in church, Penelope was surprised as Colin shifted the main emphasis of their letters from the goings-on of his life to hers. Her friendship with Eloise—as old as and nearly as familiar to him as Penelope’s friendship with himself—was suddenly a matter of greater interest.

With plans of his own, Colin asked after theirs. We will be married, of course, Penelope wrote and then scratched out, aghast. She had meant to remind Colin that a young lady’s future was rarely pinned upon anything other than marriage, that this was true for herself and Eloise both, but the way she had written it made it sound as though she expected herself and Eloise to marry each other. She had slashed across the words with ink before considering that Colin would never interpret them in that way. She sighed, steadying herself. It had been silly to react so hastily. She had spoiled her page and would have to copy the letter onto a fresh one. They could afford it though; with only one daughter left at home and an unperturbed attitude towards financial stability that Penelope could not recall ever existing in her mama before, an extra sheet of paper was hardly a crippling expense. Taking a deep breath to eradicate her fluster, Penelope started over.

—

When the air began to warm and the social season loomed, Penelope and her mama left their country seat for Mayfair. There was ever so much more space in the carriage without Prudence stretching her legs across the seat or leaning over Penelope to take in the view from both windows. It was the first time Penelope had actually taken pleasure in the journey. Though her mama spoke every so often, most of what she said was meant for herself; she often voiced her thoughts aloud to, she claimed, focus and better remember them. Penelope was long habituated to the practice, and therefore unbothered by it. She spent the time with her nose in a book. Inside a carriage was one of the places her mama could not chastise her for reading too much. There was absolutely nothing else to do. A joy!

There had never been a homecoming without sisters before. At the start of the previous year’s season, Philippa and Mr. Finch had not yet been wed due to dowry issues resolved by Cousin Jack. It had always been rather a weary dismount from the carriage, petty squabbling between elder sisters who were thoroughly sick of one another; Penelope, sickest of them all of her sisters’ company, had silently endured in order to slip away that much sooner, shutting herself in her bedchamber with enormous relief. This time, there was none of that. Her mama no more wished to detain her than Penelope wished to be detained. Filled with commanding energy, her mama went to give directions to the servants—they would have this ordered for their dinner, to be served on those dishes (such-and-such a set were no longer fashionable)—leaving Penelope to her own devices.

On instinct, she began to go to her bedchamber, then paused. There was no reason she might not sit in the drawing room. Her mother would be downstairs with the servants, then likely in the office that used to be Penelope’s father’s, going over the coming season’s planned expenditures with Varley. There would be absolutely no one to disturb Penelope. Not a soul to vex her by taking the seat she wanted or chatting while she read or eating the best things off the tray of food a maid would shortly carry up to refresh Penelope after the journey from the countryside. Being the lone daughter to a widow was almost like being the wife to a busy husband. She might be left quite to her own pursuits.

Penelope smiled as she crossed the drawing room and sat herself at the window. She loved this spot. It was exceedingly agreeable to sit here, above the street, and watch Mayfair stir itself, awaking to the spring. She had not selected a book to read, but she did not have as urgent a need for one when there were no irritating noises or activities in the room from which it was imperative she distract herself. She could simply sit and watch the world, neither among nor apart.

With a novelty which was still fresh, Penelope did the same the next day, settling herself in the window seat and occupying herself as she chose. She found, as the days passed, that she could do such a thing with regularity, though her mama did sometimes assert her authority to send them out promenading in the park or patronizing the shops. Even this was bearable, and Penelope conceded to her mama’s wishes with greater grace than ever before.

Thanks to the constancy of her watch, Penelope saw the Bridgertons return from Aubrey Hall, and, on another day soon after, Colin. Penelope had already been on her way across the square, having seen Eloise amongst the spill of pastel Bridgertons who had just exited their home. It was a fine day, and as Eloise was going out, Penelope deemed it reasonable to abandon her window seat for a time in order to stroll arm in arm with her friend. They could collect gossip from the buzzing clusters of young ladies which seemed abruptly dense on the streets of the ton. The sight of Colin made Penelope stop short in the square.

She was eager to see him, but so too would be his family. She would wait before inserting herself into their buoyant circle. She glanced back at her trailing maid.

“I must give them a few minutes, Rae,” Penelope explained.

“Very good, Miss.” The woman nodded.

“Their delight at the return of their son and brother must be tremendous.”

“To be sure.”

And it was, Penelope knew, even without watching the thing with her own eyes. There was no family quite like the Bridgertons. Even with this unusual separation from Prudence (a custom she was still growing used to), and the longer while it had been since Philippa had last been to their Mayfair home, Penelope could not fathom feeling so much elation at the sight of either. They would never be that family. Penelope had noted the difference for as long as the Featheringtons and Bridgertons had been neighbours, and she did not exactly desire increased closeness with her own relations—no, having married sisters was preferable by far. What she wanted, secretly and deep down, was to be a member of that family. She wanted such a greeting when she came home. She wanted to be lovingly enfolded in her siblings’ arms. She wanted a love which was not just a show or a scheme. She wanted to be a part, not apart.

After several minutes, Penelope went to them.

The family, it transpired, were on their way to the park for a promenade.

“But Penelope can join us, can she not?” Eloise was quick to request of her mother.

“My dear,” Violet said to Penelope with an affectionate smile, “you are most welcome.”

“There, good, let’s go.” Eloise grabbed Penelope’s hand and attempted to pull her along, but Penelope hesitated.

“I told my mama I was not going far.”

“Do you wish to go back home and ask permission?”

Penelope drew Eloise slightly to one side.

“I have rather been enjoying how little notice she takes of me,” she confessed. “Altering my plans makes it more likely that she would want to come.”

Eloise made a sympathetic noise, then brightened. “Why don’t I remain here with you? We can sit in the square, or just walk to the end of the street and back.”

“You are kind to offer—”

“No, I’m not. It’s completely—”

“You are sweet.”

Eloise, who had seemed remarkably giddy, suddenly stopped talking at Penelope’s words. Penelope watched the colour rise in El’s cheeks. It triggered the same reaction in her own. She became overly conscious that they were still holding hands, not like Eloise was trying to guide her someplace, but lightly, comfortably, naturally. Penelope had been over to visit since the Bridgertons returned. There had been nothing like this though—this way that Eloise was looking at her, flushed and alert. They had only sat in the drawing room like normal. Of course, Francesca had been playing the pianoforte, and Gregory and Hyacinth had been talking loudly at the other end of the room, and Benedict had come in too, inquiring about Prudence’s wedding and whether Penelope was enjoying the peace and quiet he imagined now existed in the house across the square. He had brought this up rather pointedly, raising his voice that his youngest siblings might hear. Penelope had laughed when it had had no effect.

Actually, now Penelope thought of it, Eloise had felt for her hand then too, saying something sarcastic back to her brother that Penelope could not at present recollect. And Benedict had said, “You two,” and fondly rolled his eyes. He had seen them as an established pair.

“I will accompany you another day. Go,” Penelope urged, “be with your family. You will disappoint your mama.”

“You could take a turn about the square with me, Pen,” Colin suggested, coming up to them. “I don’t really fancy going inside yet. Too much time on a ship, I’m afraid. I need to stretch my legs.”

“I won’t forgive you for taking her,” Eloise threatened idly.

“Nor will she forgive you for leaving her, I’m sure,” he countered jovially.

“You are both ridiculous,” Penelope decided.

With that, Eloise went off, sparing Pen a reluctant backwards glance. Penelope did not realize she was still staring after her friend until Colin’s voice recalled her attention to him.

“This is actually most convenient.”

“How so, Colin?”

They began to walk side by side, Rae following at a distance.

“Well, Pen,” Colin began, low enough that his voice would not reach her maid’s ears, “do you recall what I said to you before I left on my travels?”

“‘Goodbye’?” she joked.

Colin had to smile at this, even as he shook his head.

“I told you that you had only to ask if there was ever anything you needed. I am entirely in your debt after how good you have been about Marina—Lady Crane.”

Penelope was puzzled.

“Of course you are not in my debt, Colin, but… is there something I seem to be in need of?”

Not answering her question, Colin replied, “I want to tell you about two women I met in Greece.”

Instantly, Penelope reddened.

Colin, flustered, was quick to say, “Oh, no, Pen, nothing of the kind. A friendship, nothing more.” He took a calming breath. “We developed a friendship, which led to several interesting conversations. I readily admit, my eyes were opened to possibilities which I had never considered. Not for myself—I think of no one for myself but Lady Crane, as you know—but for… others.”

“I do not understand you,” Penelope said.

“These women, Pen…”

And Colin spoke with such sympathetic eyes fixed upon her face that Penelope began to understand, even before he said all that he would say while they walked circles around the square, and she remained away from home longer than she had planned.