#i like the days where its sunny and warm but then the wind comes through like damn that is a good feeling

[opheliac]

i am being surrounded by green once again ☺️

[hsakuras]

𝑮𝑨𝒁𝑬 | 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑨

warnings: dubcon, stalking, yandere childe, alcohol consumption, facial, blow job, fem reader, degradation, cum eating(?), snowballing, breath play

wc: 4.1k

a/n: im baaaaack, also this is for @jozhenji ily bitch mwah

You hate Snezhnaya. 

The cold that bites at your cheeks, the way your bones ache if you stand outside too long, and how blinding the snow can be on the days where the sun is the brightest. You hate holding onto candle light to maneuver your way down the hallway of your house, only to hear talk of the Fatui growing in size and manipulating more people into joining under the harbingers from the neighbors that stop by to chat in front of your door late at night. 

“They each have their own agenda.” One of them says, as if that’s supposed to justify their actions, like they’re not all connected in some way.

“Did you hear Ajax got into another fight?” 

“Again?”

You hate him. Ajax. You hate how he always needs to be the center of attention.

You hate his laughter, his gaze, the way he starts fight after fight and how he doesn’t care if his father cries or threatens to send him to the military. You hate how he knows so much, how he thrives off of the adrenaline that runs through his veins when he knows he’s won, when he can taste it, feel it in his hands and configure it so that it adds fuel to the fire burning brightest in his chest. It’s the one of the only times his smile reaches his eyes.

You hate that it’s the same smile when he looks at you. When he thinks that he can barge in on your walks to get firewood, or when he finds one of your siblings and walks them home. He only wanted to make sure they would get home safe, he swears. 

 If Ajax could put his pride on a pedestal, he would. He would bellow in letting people watch as it grows and swallows everything in its path to take up more space, thriving on the marvel painted on people’s faces who pass, who watch as he leaves the small village of your hometown to join the Fatui. It shouldn’t have come as a shock when he was recognized because of his ability to fight. 

You think about the time that he went missing for three days causing a search party that grew so rapidly in size because his father is a respectable man, it hurt to see how little he slept. It hurt your community to see him attempt to console his other children. 

It hurt even more when you were the one Ajax showed up in front of first. 

You were looking out to the horizon, the firewood that had been collected by your side, stopping to enjoy the hot stew you had prepared for your siblings in the thermos that had been carefully wrapped to protect it from the bitter temperatures. It wasn’t exactly as hot as you expected but you welcomed the few seconds of warmth brought to your lips. It’s comforting and while looking out to the horizon, you make a silent promise to yourself to move to a nation that is always sunny, where the winds are warm, and the waters are blue. Something that would help your soul feel weightless in contrast to your current surroundings. 

When the forest is covered in snow you can hear everything, the branches that fall under the weight of the ice, the crunching of footsteps when someone passes by, and even the curses of the men who were fetching more wood for their wives; tired, exhausted, and numb. 

That day he came back, you didn’t expect to hear him, much less see him. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” You knew his voice, whipping your head around so fast because you never heard his footsteps approaching. His nose was bleeding, staining his mouth and shirt. “It’s nothing compared to you.” He smiled after wiping the blood off his nose and mouth with his sleeve, watching you in awe of how relieved you must have been when he showed himself to you.

He stumbles forward a little, laughs, “Hey, I lov-I’ve loved you from the moment we met.”

You’re the last thing he sees before he blacks out. 

Years have passed since then. You watch when Teucer and Tonia come running by with their new toys, how much easier it gets for his father to take care of himself when he’s promised that Ajax is okay and the financial hardship doesn’t consume his very being. It’s hard not to smile when Teucer looks up at you with a toothy grin, begging you to play with him again. 

You’ve never been able to tell him no, even though he has the same eyes as his older brother. 

-

You feel uneasy when Pulcinella knocks at your door one evening.

It’s routine for him to visit Ajax’s home, he is the one who offered him the position in the Fatui, you knew he had good combat skills but never would have guessed it was enough for him to be recognized as one of the harbingers. His name is no longer familiar, replaced with Tartaglia. He erases the name given to him, fully accepting his role.

You open your door for him, it would be rude not to answer when the mayor comes to your door. 

He smiles gently at you, it does nothing to relieve your nerves, makes goosebumps run down your spine and you will yourself to meet his gaze and return a smile that you would never call your own. 

“For you.” 

You let him place the box in your hand, it's rectangular, flat, and wrapped beautifully. It makes your stomach drop when his hand touches yours, you can feel a letter slip in between your hand and his, it reminds you of when your grandmother would place chocolates in your hand when you were a child. 

“Thank you.” You mumble, mouth dry and lips chapped from the unexpected visit. He nods, leaving you and waving goodbye at Ajax’s family. 

You set the box down next to the fireplace, you can hear the crackles from the wood engulfed in flames, it makes you feel less lonely at night. Now that your siblings have gone and left, you’re left to take care of the house your parents had left behind. 

You carefully unwrap the bow that sits on top, folding it neatly beside you. Your palms are sweaty when you peel back the wrapping paper. The outside is revealed with the name of an expensive boutique known for the intricate patterns of beautifully displayed lingerie. 

You stare at it in disbelief, the measurements are your size down to the millimeter, you feel like screaming. Like locking yourself in your home, blocking out the windows and doors so that no one, no one else could ever invade your privacy the way that he has. 

The black lace is decorated with hints of glitter and the satin lines it feels so, so fine. If it were from anyone else you would be enamored, delighted to wear this for someone that you held feelings for, but the only thing you feel is fear. 

You remember the letter that was placed in your hands. 

You wish you hadn’t opened it. He only speaks of the past, how he never got to tell you how grateful and happy he was to see you after he had been missing for so long.

When you returned home with Ajax, he was different, asking how many days have passed to everyone that came to visit him during his recovery, contemplating how time passes differently where he was in. When you would see him, you had reassured him over and over that it was three days, though he argued it had been three months. He used to make you retell the story again, and again, and again going over the most miniscule details until you were in tears telling him that it’s all you can remember. 

You throw the box and letter into the fire, watching the flames consume it all. You spend the remainder of the night fitting whatever parts of your life that you could in a suitcase. 

You leave the next morning. 

-

Your life in Fontaine is calmer than back home, you’re near the ocean and you bask in the warm windy hills during the day or dive into the ocean once you’ve finished your work at the small little dress boutique in the middle of the city. 

Your boss teases you about one of the Gardes that have caught your attention when he patrols, you even sparked up a conversation about your favorite flowers you’ve encountered in Fontaine. 

“Romaritime flowers!” you exclaim, “They’re beautiful. They look so pure in and out of the water.”

He places one in your hands the next time you meet, promising to take you on a proper date when he finishes patrol. 

You assume the bouquet of them at your front door was from him, assume that you would see him that night when you closed the boutique and assume that he would ask where you would like to go next. 

You spent that morning getting ready for work. Donning one of your favorite dresses, it compliments you well enough to make you stand out, but still allows you to work comfortably. It’s something your boss had given to you when you first arrived in Fontaine, the excuse was that you also needed something when you would go out. How else would you fit in? 

You cried at her kindness, something you had not encountered in years. 

You finish work that night, assuring your boss that you would close up. She gives you a hug, tells you that she wants to hear all about it when you come back after your day off. 

The clouds start to darken when she leaves. You hope it’s only temporary. 

- 

You imagine this is what heartbreak feels like. 

To trust someone with your feelings so easily only to be faced with the hard realization that they didn’t seem to care about that trust to begin with. The rain, which you hoped was short lived,  only rubs salt in the wound. It’s pouring, your shoes are in your hands and your dress is stuck to your body. You waited for two hours after the boutique closed for him to come by, you waited another hour after his patrol ended. You finally left after ten more minutes, when a young woman knew the look on your face and offered you her umbrella. You politely declined, assured her that you would be okay. 

In the end you’re left disappointed, cold, and wet. It reminds you of the numerous times you would come home from the harsh snowfall in Snezhnaya, greeted with silence when you stepped foot into your house shivering and attempting to start a fire. You hated it. 

You ignore the stares from couples strolling the night, instead focusing on the cool pavement beneath your bare feet, how the rain feels somewhat cooling to your face and how you can hide your tears. 

It’s better this way, to only rely on yourself. You’re all you have after all. 

When you return home, you toss your shoes outside to dry. Slamming the door behind you and begin struggling to peel off your dress because the fabric is soaking wet and it’s stubbornly sticking to your skin. You curse when it doesn’t come off, panting and pulling it over your head, you step on something sharp, cursing again when you finally throw your dress off and the tears threaten to spill. You curse and throw the dress into the corner of your living room. 

You’re left cold, shivering, and only in your bra and panties when you look at the blood from your foot. You begin to cry. 

Your gaze then follows the trail of broken glass on your floor, the pool of water leading up to the broken vase of the Romaritime flowers.

“Do you let others stare at you like this?” 

Your blood runs cold. You remember the same feeling back when he found you staring out into the horizon all those years ago. 

He places a hand over your mouth, holds you flush against his chest when he sneaks up from behind you. “Shh, s’kay.”

You can’t scream, you squirm in his hold, kicking and clawing at his arm holding your face. He thinks it would be fun to allow you to think he’s off balance. 

You shift all your weight onto him, hoping that in the fall you’ll have enough time to run, to hide, to fight. You could run to your neighbor’s house, the nice little old couple that lives behind you and hide in their garden until you’re safe. You wish you were safe, you wish you were home sooner. Oh fuck, if only you hadn’t waited for so long into the night. 

He grabs your wrist before you’re able to move, bringing you back to him. You force yourself to find strength to move, to be able to turn around and face him. He anticipates this, he spins you around like a dancing couple would. 

He laughs once and you stop.  

You no longer want to look, you can only see the boy who was missing smiling and complimenting you with blood running down his nose, you remember the lingerie he sent when you were still in the village, how your stomach dropped when the mayor knocked at your door. 

Nothing compares to this, to the goosebumps littering your skin when he peers down at you, blue eyes that don’t ever leave your gaze and make you feel like you’re drowning in the sea waters that surround Fontaine. 

“I was waiting for you” he whispers, peppering your face with kisses while you stand there, frozen. It’s similar to the time when he collapsed in front of you, only this time you can’t find the words to scream.

It’s funny how this time he’s found you. Your poor attempt at hiding from him is amusing. 

“Missed you so much” he continues to kiss you, makes his way down to your collarbones and doesn’t hesitate to get on his knees to kiss the softness of your stomach or the tops of your breasts that are exposed to him. 

“Should have locked you up you know? You ran from me, took me forever to find you.”

“Ajax” you whisper, the tears that sting your eyes are threatening to spill. “Why are you here?” 

You hold in a sob, you know why. You’ve always known why he was enamored by you. 

“Does it matter?” he breathes, shifting his position so he is behind you again, kissing the tears off the side of your face, watching how your breathing shifts when his cold hands touch the bare skin exposed to him. 

“Had to pay that Garde off really well. He wasn’t cheap, you know?”

Your heart breaks further, the sob you were holding building into your throat. “You’re so worth it though, pretty little thing. Look at how I found you, fuck, you missed me too didn’t you?”

He’s guiding you to your couch, laying you down while he towers over you. You feel nauseous when you feel his hardening cock through his pants, “look at you, look at you!” He laughs again, another bout of tears flowing down your cheeks, hot and heavy. 

He leans down to kiss you, you turn your head but Ajax isn’t opposed to using force to get what he wants, you know this. You’ve always known this. He takes your face into his hands again, squishing your cheeks together like he did before except his gaze is demanding, icy, and bitter. 

“Kiss me back” 

You oblige, letting him press his lips against yours and slipping his tongue into your mouth. You flinch at the roll of his lips, clutching at his shirt when he groans into your mouth. He mistakes this as want, giving you more until you’re consumed by him, his presence, his scent, his touch. 

He breaks away to let you breathe, smiles at the string of spit that connects both of you and how your eyes are hazing, even though he can’t tell if it’s from crying or from how dizzy he’s made you when he kissed you. 

“Let’s celebrate” He’s off of you before you can register what he said, grabbing a bottle of one of Mondstat’s best wines. He’s unceremonious, rogue even, when he pops the cork off and takes a drink straight from the bottle before dipping back down to kiss you.

He didn’t swallow much to your surprise, he let the wine pass from his mouth to yours. Pulling away to watch your face scrunch up at the taste, “s’good” he slurs, taking another drink and swallowing this time.

“Here.” He’s pulling you to sit up, he’s so fast it’s hard to follow what he’s thinking, what he’s doing. He’s taking another drink again, it’s smaller this time, more like a sip that he thinks is adequate for you. 

He doesn’t let you pull back, his hand is on the nape of your neck making sure you can’t escape his intensity. You try to keep up, letting his tongue enter your mouth and swirl with his. It’s so sloppy, so hot, and sticky that it makes your head spin. He only gives you a break to drink more wine, to make you both drink more. 

He keeps giving you more and more, loves when you get weaker and you don’t protest as much anymore. When you whine and start anticipating the alcohol from his mouth to yours, it makes the taste more bearable and your thoughts aren’t as loud in your head. 

The wine keeps spilling from the corners of your mouth, leaving a little trail of purple-red for him to lick up to. He’s sucking at the skin of your neck, finding your pulse point so easily. His teeth nip at your skin, you don’t mean to lean into him, the alcohol is making you slow to react. He swears he hears a small moan escape your lips when he nips at the sensitive skin again. 

His hand slides down your chest, feeling your tits through the fabric of your bra, it’s still wet. 

“Ajax” you slur, “wanna wait” you say. He looks at you, he notices the tears again. You feel them spill, you’re cold. You cling onto him because at least he’s offering you that sliver of comfort. 

“Wait?” He repeats, licking a tear off of your cheek. 

“Why would I wait when I know you want me too?” He whispers in your ear, his hands unclasping your bra in one go. His touch is cold, similar to how it feels when you first go into the sea. Your body has to get use to it, it starts to warm up and you feel like you could swim and float for hours. 

It’s the same with his touch, the cool tips of his fingers warm up the more he squeezes. He likes the sound you make when he pinches at your nipples, he takes one into his mouth, sucking and licking. Groaning when he hears the little whimpers you try to hold back. 

He makes his way back up to your lips again, grabs your hands that are clutching at his sides to guide them down to palm the shape of his cock through his pants. 

He’s dreamt of this for so long. 

“Oh fuck” he pants, his breath hitting your lips before he’s kissing you again, his tongue feels like he’s lapping into your mouth getting as sloppy as possible as if you’re going to vanish again. His tongue rolls over yours until he’s aching, cock throbbing for attention. 

“Hey, feel me here.” He pants, eyes red rimmed and the blue of his irises brighter. You feel like you could drown in them. 

He takes your hand and holds it in his, tossing his vision on your table. He’s undoing his belt & pulling his pants down enough for his cock to spring free. 

He wraps your hand around the base, guides you in how fast and how much pressure to place around him, when he lets go of your hand you can feel him looking at you. You’re focused on the length of him, how heavy and hot he feels against your hand. 

You feel like crying again. You oblige him because at least he’ll leave you alone sooner, you’re just another thing for him to win over, to declare victory before he gets bored with you and moves on to this next challenge. 

“More fuck, please more” he pants, hips stuttering into your hand. You can feel the sticky, hot precum that coats the tip of his dick and now your hand. You look up at him and see that he’s got his head tipped back, moaning about how hot you are, how good you are, how he’s thought about this since you saved him. Since you found him, how he’s been in love with you since he found you looking out into the horizon. Even before, he’s been in love with you since the beginning, since he saw you. 

“You owe me this.” he breathes.

“What?” 

He laughs again, the same one that haunts you. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t know. I had you watched wherever you went, I made sure your siblings got into the school they wanted, fuck I even followed you here.” 

He takes your hand in his, knows that your hand is coated in his pre cum, takes one of your fingers and licks it up the length. His eyes ever leave yours as he does. 

“You should thank me.” He deadpans, cock still throbbing and hard when he stands up at full height. 

“Thank me.” He repeats the length of his dick is on your face, rutting against your cheek until the tip meets your lips. 

“Yeah, that's how you should do it.” He smiles, the one that meets his eyes. The genuine one. 

He’s holding on to the back of your head before you can move. He doesn’t care if your hair is messy, it's almost dry now. He takes your hand again, planting it onto his thigh for leverage. 

His grip returns to the base of his cock, tapping the tip on your lips again. 

You don’t open your mouth, new tears building up in your waterline. He shows no remorse for what he’s doing, no concern, he thinks he deserves this. It’s the least he deserves for what he’s done for you. 

He pinches your nose, catching you when you part your lips to shove his length into your mouth. 

You cry, struggling to breathe at the pace he starts at. 

“Woulda been so gentle to you if you would have been good, fuck.”

He seethes, eyes rolling into the back of his head when both of his hands are holding your head to match his hips. Your nails are digging into his thighs, your strength unmatched for how you try to push yourself off of him as he pulls you forward on his length. He can’t handle the hot, wet, tightness of the back of your throat. 

“Fuck yes, more, more, more” he chants, pinching your nose again to see you panic when you look up again, he loves you like this. When your chin is covered in spit and tears and his balls hit you with every rut of his hips. 

“God, gonna paint your fucking face, slut. Gonna cover you in my cum so you can never forget who you belong to” 

You can feel that he’s getting close, he grants you grace for only one second before he’s holding your jaw in his hand again. 

You take in gulps of air, coughing, and crying while he forces you to look at him. 

“Don’t run from me again.” He seethes, forcing you back down on his length. 

He’s ruthless this time, uncaring for the way your eyes can’t focus, or how you look like you’re going to pass out. You’re vision keeps going in and out, you can hear yourself. How you choke and gag around his length how he curses with each “ack. ack. ack” of his dick hitting the back of your throat. 

“Gonna cum—shit”

He pulls you off, using one of his hands to keep you in place while he jacks himself off with the other. 

“Say it, say who you belong to.” 

You can’t understand, hazy vision threatening to go black. 

“Fuck, say it and I’ll cum. I’ll cover your fucking face and never leave you. You understand? You’re mine. “

You don’t know what he’s rambling on about. You want to plead with him, talk this out and let him know he could pursue someone else. 

“Ajax” you rasp. 

“Yeah? You belong to me don’t you? Oh fuck—“ 

He groans, doesn’t hold his voice back, calling you all sorts of names but mostly that you’re his, his, his. 

His cum on your face should be enough to prove it. He looks at you like a masterpiece, taking his finger and dragging it through his cum and putting it into his mouth before kissing you. 

“Don’t let anyone else see you like this.” 

[jujutsutrash]

(the best of a) simple thing

sort of a follow up to (don't look) but I want it, tho more of a prequel Pairing: Yuta x reader Word count: 2723 Warning: some slight mentions of nsfw stuff but mostly ok

When you walked into his apartment - and effectively into his life - Yuta never imagined he’d become so hooked on you. You had seemed like a bad company, like clear trouble. But you’d found him through a mutual friend, so he let it slide. He needed a roommate, and the worst that could happen would be having to kick you out. Or so he thought.

He never thought he’d become obsessed with you.

Well, obsessed is a strong word. Heavily infatuated could do. You plagued his mind constantly, and just your presence was enough to have him red in the face. Yuta thought that it was just a sexual thing, over time it would fade. It didn’t. And sharing an apartment with you, getting to know you, only made it worse. On one hand he’d be jerking off furiously to the thought of you, on the other he’d be aching to do the most domestic type of shit.

One thing he found himself desiring pretty quickly was to see you dressed in one of his clothes. It was hot, yeah, but it also felt cute as fuck. Sure, he didn’t tower over you, but his oversized shirts would still look bigger than your frame. To Yuta, the thought alone was enough to have his heart leaping - and his cock hardening - in less than a second.

Though, he never thought that would actually happen. Until it did. The first time he got a chance to see you in one of his clothes was on a rare day that he was going from college straight to your shared apartment. It was a day off, and he had plans for it, until it started raining out of the nothing while he was still in class. When it came time to leave, the rain had turned heavy, water falling from the sky with rage and bringing a cold wind with it. Yuta considered himself lucky for always having an umbrella lost somewhere in his bag.

To his surprise, when he came to the arched entrance of the college building, he saw you, looking into the rainy street with a desolate expression. It was rare for him to see you at campus, the buildings where the visual arts students had their classes couldn’t be further from his own. Slowly, he walked up to you, coming to stand by your side as he watched your expression.

“You forgot you your umbrella again?”

You almost jumped by his side, and Yuta couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. He muttered a sorry when you looked back at him, eyes burning with anger. Even that was cute. Looking at you now, he also couldn’t help noticing how you had your hands rubbing your arms, body closing in tight on itself. You were dressed in just a tshirt and jeans, clearly not expecting to get cold any time soon.

“Yeah,” you respond with a pout, “this is ridiculous, it was sunny when I left home!”

“The weather changes a lot around this time of the year,” he adds with a shrug, pulling the umbrella from inside his backpack. “I can give you a ride if you want?”

“Don’t you have to go to the office?”

“Nah, got a day off today, I was heading home anyway,” Yuta says with a smile, watching as your face lights up at the offer, his heart warming up at the sight. 

“Oh, shit, Yuta, thank you so much. You are a lifesaver,” you smile, and he can feel the blush that’s creeping its way on his face.

“Don’t need to thank me, really, I’m just glad to help,” he responds in a gentle tone, voice growing more concerned as he looks over you again. “Are you cold?”

“A little, I really wasn’t expecting this.”

“Well, I,” he pauses, unsure if he should stay what he is thinking before he decides to go for it anyway. “I can give you my hoodie, so you don’t have to walk back while cold.”

Yuta looks over you, hand tugging at the fabric of the white hoodie he was wearing. He is pretty sure he is blushing, but he can’t focus on that right now. On one hand, you were cold, and he really just wanted to help. But on the other, well he is pretty sure that if you accept, he is gonna have the image of you in that hoodie burned into his mind forever.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, you are gonna feel cold,” you shake your head, chuckling as you wave one hand in front of your face.

“I’m not that cold anyway, it’s fine really,” he insists, looking into your eyes with a warm smile.

You hesitate for a second, but then you nod, muttering a thanks when he places his backpack and umbrella on the floor. Yuta reaches a hand to his back, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his hoodie as he starts pulling it off. When he wrangles himself off of it, he passes it to you with one hand, the other fighting to readjust his hair.

He watches you smile and put it on, his heart skipping a beat at the sight. The shoulders of the hoodie seem a little loose on your frame, the end of the sleeves just about reaching your fingers. Yuta wasn’t that much bigger than you, but yeah, this was good enough. The walk to your apartment would be short, but he caught himself wondering if maybe he’d be lucky, and by the end of it his hoodie would smell like you.

When you look back up at him, he quickly averts your eyes, busying himself with picking up his backpack and umbrella, getting ready to leave. You two walk and chat, shoulders touching as you share the protection of Yuta’s old umbrella. He is almost sad when the walk ends. The minute he is inside his room, hoodie back in his hands, he brings the piece of clothing to his nose. Under the faint notes of his cologne, he finds it, the sweet smell of your body lotion. He’d for sure be sleeping with that hoodie tonight.

The second time Yuta got a chance to see you wearing one of his clothes was when you’d taken him with you to that bar you loved so much - Devilock, you called it. From the outside the place looked like a shady, hole in the wall type of bar, from the inside it looked just better enough to be sanitary. Truth be told, Yuta had never been one to frequent those places. Between the loud noise and his aversion for social situations, it felt like too much. Yet, he couldn’t say no when you invited him.

The punkest thing he could muster from his wardrobe was a beaten up plaid button up thrown open over a black shirt and some dark jeans. Compared to you, he was a normie, but that was the best he could do. Though, your presence made him feel a little less awkward when you entered the place. The bar wasn’t utterly packed, but it was full, and that was already enough stress, so Yuta would take whatever little solace he could get.

Still, there was a silver lining to this all - aside from the amount of people in the bar counter, forcing you two to sit side by side, shoulders pressed against each other. No, the silver lining was that he got to watch you, free and at ease in your own element, dancing in a skin tight shirt and jeans shorts. Yuta could endure the awkwardness he felt from not knowing how to dance if he got to see you like that.

Shit, you were too hot, and as you both returned to the bar he still couldn’t stop staring, even as you downed another drink, droplets of the cocktail spilling past your lip and down your neck. Maybe the alcohol helped you not notice his wondering eyes, but the bartender sure caught his stares. From behind the counter, the tall, long haired man looked like serious trouble, especially as his black locks shadowed those fox eyes when he leaned menacingly forward. Okay, that was enough to make Yuta look away, for now. Near the end of the night, however, something else happened that had butterflies working up a hurricane in his stomach.

“Yuta!”

When you cried out for him, he could already recognize something off in your voice. You’d both found your way to the arcade machines in the bar at that point, and Yuta felt a little more in his territory this way. Though, you had gone to get a drink for yourself, and it was really off putting to have you return with worry in your voice.

“Hey,” Yuta responded, calling out your name as he turned around. “Everything ok?”

“Ah, mostly,” you chuckled. “But I think my shirt snagged in someone’ jacket and one of the straps torn,” you gave another awkward chuckle and Yuta’s eyes went straight from your own to the hand tightening the knot holding your shirt strap together - the other hand clutching a beer.

“Shit,” he stuttered, torn between the desire to help and the desire to just see the thing fall. “People should really be more careful, they could have hurt you.”

“It’s ok, really, it’s just an inconvenience,” you laughed softly, placing your beer on top of the arcade machine you were. “Tho’, I think I might have to inconvenience you now.”

“Y-yes, whatever you need,” it was almost shameful how fast Yuta responded, he knew it, but he just couldn’t help but jump at the idea of you needing him in any way.

“Could you lend me your shirt? I’m not sure how safe this knot is,” you chuckled.

Yuta froze for a moment at your words, voice muffled by the song playing. Though, he quickly snapped out of it, eager to see you in his shirt. He knew he should be more worried about you, he knew he shouldn’t be thinking as he was at that moment, but there was just something about seeing you in his clothes. Shit, he’d refuse to wash that shirt for the next few days.

Taking out the shirt in a rush as he nodded frantically, Yuta almost knocked down the beer bottle on top of the arcade machine, getting one arm pathetically stuck in the sleeve as he tugged it free. When he handed you the shirt, you thanked him, swiftly putting it on and buttoning it up. You looked gorgeous in it - as you did in absolutely anything, but there was a special charm to this particular sight. Fuck, he could feel his cock hardening already.

The rest of the night goes by uneventfully - although not exactly easily. Yuta had to spend the whole time fighting his own desires and the erection that threatened to sprung up and make things a lot more awkward. When you both finally get back home and return the shirt to his hands, he almost feels desolated. Almost, because the chance to sleep with a piece of clothing that smells like you again is enough to have him in high spirits.

The third time Yuta gets to see you in one of his clothes is in a more permanent situation. One he admits he lucked out on, a bold strike of fortune he will be forever thankful for. After you first moved in, you requested to share the space of his large office - the only spare room in the apartment. He agreed, obviously, he couldn’t say no to you, so he just let you set up your easel and materials in the office, but in the beginning it was awkward. Overtime, though, he grew comfortable in your presence - and learned to watch you paint from the occasional reflections on his monitor.

Besides, Yuta couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the sight of you working on your pieces. Although you could be a powerful distraction, sitting in front of your easel, wearing only small shorts and an old shirt - even this casual, you were gorgeous. At times, it was an exercise in self control, one he didn’t always win, forcing Yuta to take breaks from his work just to leave the room. Still, he wasn’t really complaining.

One day he catches you frowning while looking at the washing machine, browns pulled together and shoulders slumped. When he asks you what's wrong, you pull a torn up garment from inside the machine - from the gray color and paint stains he recognizes it as the remains of your old work shirt. As you mumble about needing to retire another t-shirt to put in its place, an idea crosses Yuta’s mind. 

He sees a chance, and he has to take it - or at least try to, while he is feeling brave enough for the task. Sure, if this goes right, you are going to become even more of a distraction than you already are, but fuck it if he cares right now. So as you sigh in frustration, he is quick to offer you to take one of his t-shirts, claiming he has an old one he was gonna start using as pajamas anyway. When you seem hesitant, he doesn't give you time, stepping into his room fast and bringing you a white oversized t-shirt that he places in your hands, insisting you take it.

“Yuta,” he glances at you through the reflection as you call for him, seeing you turn from the easel towards him, “you sure I can use this? It feels so nice, the paint is just gonna destroy it.”

Yuta feels beyond lucky that on the very next day, he'd already gotten to see you wearing his shirt. Though, it's posing a slight inconvenience as now he's having to try and answer you without fully turning his chair around - lest you notice something you shouldn't. He turns just enough to glance at you, body still turned to his screens, anything below the hips mostly covered by the blessed shadow of his desk. 

“I told you it's fine. Is it comfortable? If you like it, you can just keep it,” he shrugs, trying to act nonchalant about the whole thing. “This shirt is old, and it was nothing special to begin with.”

He lies straight through his teeth, the plain white shirt had been an expensive one - you'd probably just never know because he'd removed the tags long ago, they always pinched his skin. But he didn't mind that, not one bit, no price could pay for the sight before him. The oversized t-shirt went all the way down to just below your ass, covering a third of your thighs. Better yet, it almost swallowed your shorts, and from certain angles, it looked like you were wearing just the t-shirt. Wearing just his t-shirt. Yeah, he didn't mind the price tag.

You look into his eyes for a long second - a stare down Yuta is driven to win, despite the growing discomfort for every moment he had to spend holding his gaze into yours. But it was for a good cause, at least from the point of view of his own selfish desires. When you hum and look down, he holds his breath in anticipation. 

“Ah, it is really comfortable,” you trail off, glancing at him again before shrugging, Yuta finally letting go of the breath he was holding. “Guess if you say so, thanks Yuta, you are a lifesaver!”

You cheerfully thank him with a bright smile and a sweet chuckle, stretching your arms above your head before going back to work. Yuta can feel his face burning, and he can only hope it doesn't look as red as it feels. You are too sweet, too cute - and it's not helping at all the sick images running in the back of his mind. Oh, how he wanted to have you sprawled on his bed wearing only that shirt, oh the things he wanted to do.

Fuck, now he could feel his pants straining already. Just as he imagined, this was worse than before - though, it was still a price worth paying to see you in his shirt almost every day. If he could have it his way, you'd only wear his clothes around the apartment anyway.

[sadclowncentral]

about the sea: have you sailed along the southwestern edge of the baltic sea? if yes, could you describe the land and the shore and the water there? i’m doing a little infographic on the fall migration of european starlings from Latvia to the UK (via Denmark) and i’ve never been along that coast! google maps is ok, but cannot compare to someone’s lived experience. especially with the narrative similarities between sailing and flying

this is and remains my favourite ask I have ever gotten, and it took me some time to get it right. The Baltic southwest is in my unbiased opinion the most beautiful place in the world, all year round, and I could never do it justice in all of it’s facets and different faces it wears through the year. So here are some snapshots of the southwest islands through the year, both of the sea and the shore:

Langeland, Denmark in late spring

The southern tip of the island is so flat that it nearly vanished into the sea until you are right in front of it. The belts and straits of what is lovingly called the Danish south sea are a bright blue in the first sunny days of the year. Sometimes, close to shore, yellow-green pollen bloom even creates swirling patterns in the water. There is animals everywhere; birds settled in the quieter water of the bay, mostly seagulls and loons, but swans as well; if you are very lucky, a harbour porpoise will choose the wake of your ship to swim along with, and further east, you might even meet a seal or two. The coast is green fields and white turbines turning so fast that they are blurring before you. Between it all, a constant trail of huge container ships passes the straits, turning the sky close to the water grey with their exhausts. It all seems so warm, until a single cloud passing in front of the sun reminds you of the coldness of the air.

Fehmarn, Germany in early summer

The canola fields are still in full bloom, turning the whole island a bright, joyous yellow, interspersed with specks of red and blue from the field flowers, swishing in the wind. Bright yellow and bright green against the blue backdrop of the Baltic sea. The island and the land here are flat as a pancake, making it easy to see from shore to shore; only on its edges, like a crumpled paper, does the island lift up into sandy cliffsides that drop of dramatically into pebbled beaches. Standing on the beach, the water is a azure blue, and in the sun, the numerous sandbanks are clearly visible in the light turquoise. While the wind is ever present, it is subdued in early summer, but the jagged cliffs are a stark reminder of the violence of the winter storms. All trees lean towards the shore, gnarled branches disfigured by the wind; there is a reason we call it “the land that even trees bow for”.

Ven Island, Sweden in the middle of the summer

Coming from the open water up north, the island appears like a golden hill rising out of the sea. The grainfields in full bloom, the warm sandy beaches, and the sun behind it. Behind you, the Øresund gave you the perfect reprieve, watching cities and mixed tree forest pass by in turn on either side after the rough waters of the Kattegatt, where both North and Baltic sea crash together in a cacophony of wave pattern, shaking you and your boat around frantically over strong winds. Now, on Ven, it seems almost a lifetime ago, as you follow the soft roads winding up the island and watch as grain and water are dispersed by the wind in mirrored patterns, golden and green-blue.

Christiansø, Denmark in later summer

Arriving in Christiansø is always a wild ride. While the sun beats down in unrelenting brightness, the waves and wind that had time to build over the whole Baltic sea are so strong that salt crystals form on your face from the constant sea spray that hits you in the face. The island seems almost unreal – just jagged brown-grey teeth of rock rising out of the middle of the sea with no land visible in either direction for miles, with deepest blue water surrounding it, no ground in sight. The waves crash on the stubborn rocks with a loud crashing sound, and over all of that, the stubborn calls of birds that circle around the islands undeterred. On the island, the specks of green, of still water ponds and green grass (I don’t remember a single tree), seem almost comical against the rusted brown rocks. You stare out into the dark marine blue and watch the sunset through the roaring and screeching.

Rügen, Germany in early autumn

Auttumn has arrived, and with it, heavy clouds and heavier winds. The Baltic sea, as beautiful as it is in summer, as strong are the east wind storms that start belting down on the southwest from September onwards. Without the sunlight, the water has turned a deep angry green, but mostly white, as sea foam flies over gnashing waves. Sometimes, as the water rises past your ship, you can see the last moon jellyfish of the season in long tangled webs of kelp pass you by. The rain is soft and dispersed, but colder than the water and makes visibility low. But then, the northeast of the island comes into view, as darkness has already set in, and as the wind dies down and the clouds disperse the island shines in a blinding white, the chalk cliffs of the island rising above the water. The breaking off chalk turns the water here a pastel turquoise in the sun as it dispersed, but here now, it’s dark grey, just as the sky.

[xoxo-sarah]

the weather where i live has been amazing recently and I’d personally love if you wrote about a lazy day out with Robin.

like, it was really warm and sunny last saturday so i bought myself a carton of strawberries and sat on the grass of my college campus for a couple of hours. i can’t help but think that’s something robin would love to do with the reader (i was alone but ykwim 🥲)

Strawberry Kisses and Summer Sun

↝a/n: I am so sorry for this taking forever. I lost my notebook that I had the initial fic outlined in and panicked. Thank you for requesting, Love. Hope you enjoy! 🩷Short and sweet. 💕

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader

↝warning: not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Buckley, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 5.9.24

The music blasted through the car alongside the wind that blew through your hair from the rolled down windows. The sweet sound of Robin humming to whatever tune the radio picked up this far away from town, your fingers strumming against the steering wheel, getting lost in her melody.

Glancing over, you watched as she put her hand out the window, letting the wind guide it with the waves of pressure. The surrounding trees cast a flickering shadow on her face.

Feeling eyes on her, she turned her head. Pink spread on her cheeks and ears. She brought her hand back in, turning towards you and grabbing your hand that wasn’t occupied. Your own cheeks felt hot, causing you to look back at the lonely back road. The rest of the ride consists of music and wind blowing your hair every which way.

Pulling up in a mostly open field, Robin let go of your hand, looking at the big tree casting a huge shadowed area, unlike around it. The sun shone brightly on the recently cut grass.

“They finally cleared it out.” Robin nodded at your statement. She wouldn’t have given this place a second thought before now, even if she passes this place many times while going to college campus.

The grass had been neglected even before you and Robin attended college, but someone was nice enough to cut it and make it a decent hang-out, especially with Summer finally arriving.

It was the perfect spot for you two, perfect spot for today.

Robin followed suit as you opened your door and got out, moving to the trunk of your car. “The sun is so bright.” She sighed, closing her eyes to really take in the vitamin D. You watched as she basked in the sun.

She was beautiful. God, she was beautiful.

You thought about how her freckles will be more prominent and how she might even get more little constellations on her body from your summer pans together.

She opened her eyes, watching you as you held up a blanket. “Can I have a hand, Miss, Buckley?” She grabbed the blanket, closing the trunk for you after you grabbed the bags.

Coming to the tree, Robin laid the blanket down, flattening it out before you sat down.

You both began spreading out the different snacks and fruits. Robin grabbed a ripe strawberry, popping it in her mouth, sighing contently.

She grabbed another, offering it to you. You took a bite as she held it up. “You’re so pretty.” You brought your hand up, covering your mouth as you chewed the sweet berry.

“I’m so happy it's finally summer.” Robin laid back, propped up on her elbows.

You nodded, “We can spend all summer in this very spot.”

She smiled, “Can’t wait.” She grabbed another carton of berries, plopping them in her mouth.

A blue butterfly flew about a yard from Robin. She watched it, admiring how it thrives in the warm weather. The insect moved, fluttering its way over and landing on the edge of the thin blanket.

“Butterflies are my favorite. They’re so pretty.”

Robin watched you as you watched the butterfly. “Yeah, they are.” She leaned forward, grabbing your cheek and bringing your lips to hers. The kiss was soft, the taste of strawberries lingering. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[lou-struck]

Haunted or Creepy?

Reo Mikage x reader

Flufftober Day 5: Little Doll

~ After wandering into an antique shop, Your boyfriend notices a strange doll has caught your attention. . 

All of the well-kept trees in the plaza are adorned with the most breathtaking collage of leaves. They rustle slightly in the wind, still too stubborn to fall. It’s beautiful, but you know that Reo Mikage has them all beat. 

Your soccer star boyfriend has elected to forgo his training clothes in favor of something a bit more his style for your date today. You are sure that his plain yet perfectly fitted sweater costs more than your entire wardrobe, but judging by the way he hurries over to you with the two full cups of hot apple cider in his hands, he doesn’t care in the slightest about getting dirty. 

Especially if it’s for you.

“Here, for your hands.” He smiles, holding out one of the cups for you to take. Wisps of his rich purple hair fall delicately onto his face, somehow making him look even more handsome.

“Thank you,” you say gratefully, taking the paper cup. Its spiced warmth helps you realize just how chilly your fingers have gotten in this wind. 

“Is it just me, or has it gotten a lot colder since we started walking out here?” He asks, looking up at the deceptively sunny sky. As if hearing his words, Mother Nature sends a bone-chilling gust of wind your way. The cold air penetrates through your light sweater and sends teeth-chattering shivers down your spine.

You tense up and place the paper cup up to your cheek in an attempt to warm yourself up. “D-definitely n-not j-just y-you.”

His eyes widen in concern as he pulls you closer to him. “Let’s head inside one of the shops where it’s warm. I’ll call my driver to come pick us up.”

“You’ll call your driver?” you giggle, leaning into his warmth, “You really are a pretty rich boy.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” he coos, placing his chin on top of your head. Would you rather walk?” 

“Nope,” you say quickly, not wanting to be out here freezing your ass off. “D-drivings good.”

An amused chuckle slips past his lips as his hand slides securely on your lower back, guiding you towards a weathered wooden door. “This place looks open; let’s check it out.”

You nod and glance down at the simply drawn chalkboard sign that rests on the pavement. “It looks like an antique shop.”

“Interesting,” he hums, reaching towards the faded brass knobs. “I don’t think I have ever been in one of these.”

You snort and shake your head in amusement. Of course, he had never been in an antique store before. You have only met his parents a few times, but they don’t seem to be the type of people who are interested in buying someone’s old wedding china or vintage bedroom furniture.

“Well then, I’m glad that I get to be here for your first time.” you wink, bumping into his cashmere-coated chest. 

“I feel so supported,” he laughs, playing along with your antics. His arm stretches over your head to hold the door open for you. 

The shop is dimly lit by rustic floor lamps. The light reflecting off of the blown glass shades creating patterns on the thickly carpeted flooring. Gone is the harsh chill of the wind as it is replaced by the heavy scent of dust. It surrounds you, and you can’t help but feel in your gut that something is off about this place.

“Woah, look at these lunch boxes,” Reo says, looking over at a glass display case filled with printed metal lunch boxes with various cartoon and comic book characters posing on the front. He puts his hands up on the glass and peers in closer to get a better view. “I saw one like this at a charity auction a few years back, and they made a killing. I wonder if these are the same kind?”

“That’s so cool.” you grin, trying to focus on just how adorably excited your boyfriend is and not on the strange feeling of dread that has clung to you ever since you have walked into the store. 

“I wonder what other cool stuff they have in here?” he grins, taking your hand and pulling you deeper into the shop. 

“I wonder,” you hum, playing with the tassels on a beaded lampshade as you are guided deeper into the store. You pass the checkout counter and a rather distracted employee who is tapping furiously on their iPad. The unmistakable sounds of Candy Crush playing through the muffled speakers. 

Turning the corner, you notice a tall glass display case sitting on a polished wood dresser. Your stomach seems to be tying itself in knots as you continue to take step after apprehensive step. If Reo feels the same way, he does not show it. 

Have you ever looked at something and said, ‘Yeah, that is totally haunted?” 

The porcelain-faced doll in the display case just screams it. It’s deep dark eyes glimmer with sinister intent and makes your skin crawl. You want to leave, you want to be as far away from this toy as possible, screw it if it’s cold outside you don’t want to be here another minute. But you feel that if you take your eyes off this thing even for a second, it’s gonna get you. 

“Woah, cool doll.” Reo says innocently, tossing an arm over your shoulder. “You’ve been looking at it for a while; let me get it for you.”

“No!” you say much louder than you initially meant to. Your eyes grow wider and wider in fear as you imagine what it would be like to take that creepy thing home, hiding it away in some far-off closet or crawlspace only for it to find you in your room when you least expect it.

Reo looks concerned at your outburst and takes a step back, raising his hands up in the air innocently. “Woah, I guess not.” he chuckles. 

“Do you not see how creepy that thing is?” you huff pointing at the case. “There is no way it’s getting anywhere near my place or yours.”

“What?” he asks, his lips twitching as he tries and fails to keep from laughing. “It’s a bit creepy, but it’s got some charm to it.”

“Charming? That doll is one hundred percent cursed, or possessed, or whatever.” you say seriously. Making the mistake of taking your attention off the doll to watch the wonderful way Reo’s amethyst-colored eyes twinkle as he laughs. 

“Oh come on, it’s not that…” he turns to look at the doll, and all the color drains from his face. “It just moved.”

“Stop messing with me.”

“It. Just. Moved.” he repeats again with a deadly serious tone.

You look back at the case and want to hurl. Just seconds ago, the doll was staring blankly ahead, but now her head has twisted to the side, exposing her copper-colored ringlets and staring right at you. Those dark eyes boring into your soul. “It moved.”

“We gotta go now,” he says worriedly, taking your hand and pulling you away from the item. His strong legs lead you out of the store and down the walkway for your lives. 

“W-wait.” you pant, lungs burning as you dig your heels in. As a professional athlete, his stamina is much better than yours, so he probably could’ve dashed the two of you all the way home. 

“Yeah, that thing was definitely haunted.”

[kaihuntrr]

part twenty-two: where's your humanity?

Martyn wants to go home.

The warmth of the sun passed through the lands with its soothing heat. Autumn always brought about the chill breeze of the winter to come, but at least the sun was still out. Baby blue filled the vastness of the sky, dotted with specks of clouds as birds flew to warmer islands. All of them. 

Martyn sat on a bench, lazily admiring the ships that docked on the port. He wasn’t scheduled for a hunting trip for a few days. He could afford to relax a while, resting his head back against the bench as he watched the clouds roll by in the sky until they slipped behind the line of the sea wall. It was a huge wall made of concrete and iron, designed to keep any of the monsters away from humanity. They were safe.

“Hey.” 

Martyn flinched at the sudden voice. He looked to see Scott standing beside the bench, smiling softly at him. Martyn patted the spot beside him. 

“Still sleepy?” Scott asked as he sat down next to him, tilting his head.

Martyn often found himself staring at Scott longer than he intended to. He was always a warm, welcoming sight to see. Now was no different than before. Scott’s braided ginger hair, his piercings, his comfortable work clothes, his eyes….

Scott was enchanting to look at.

Martyn smiled. He always did when he was with Scott. “Maybe,” he shrugged. “I thought you’d be at work.”

“I have days off, you know,” Scott rolled his eyes and gently leaned against Martyn’s shoulder with a small huff. “I’m not there all the time.”

“Wouldn’t you want to be doing something else with your day off, other than sticking with a boring guy like me?”

Scott glanced at Martyn with his eyebrows raised. “I can leave if you really want your alone time.”

“I’m not saying that! I just–,” Martyn raised his shoulders and looked at Scott with wide eyes as he frantically shook his head. Was the sun getting hotter, or was that just him? Martyn felt like he was on fire. His words stumbled out of his mouth faster than he thought of them. “I’m glad you’re here. With me.”

Scott let out a snort as he moved his head away from Martyn’s shoulder, laughing as he covered his mouth. His laugh was infectious. “Of course I am.” He pulled his leg up, crossing his arms to lay them on top of his knee as he tipped his head to the side, giving Martyn a warm smile. “I like being with you.”

The two shared a serene, quiet silence as they looked at each other. Martyn subconsciously placed a hand on Scott’s cheek and rubbed it, feeling his soft skin with a rugged thumb. Scott put his hand on top of Martyn’s and hummed, closing his eyes and smiling with delight.

“Are you going to say something,” Scott cracked one of his eyes open, staring at Martyn with a wry smile, “or are you just going to keep messing with my face?”

Martyn looked away, his face turning red with embarrassment as he started to withdraw his hand. Scott giggled and shook his head, clutching Martyn’s hand tighter. “I don’t mind it, really,” he leaned his cheek against Martyn’s palm with a dreamy sigh. “It’s nice that you’re still here.”

Scott’s words lingered in Martyn’s head as he absentmindedly hummed, breathing in the salty air coming in from the port as Scott’s presence filled him with warmth. It was a perfect moment, staring out into the sea with Scott, enjoying the lazy day ahead of him. What was there to worry about?

Martyn closed his eyes for a brief moment, enjoying the passive sounds of villagers passing by, the wind that blew against him, the roll of thunder–

Roll of thunder?

Martyn forced his eyes open as the once sunny skies overhead were shrouded with darkened clouds. 

They had to get inside.

“Scott, get up,” Martyn nudged Scott awake as he stared up at the sky. “It’ll rain soon.”

“But I just got comfortable…,” Scott whined. But then he sighed. He followed Martyn’s gaze and stood up, motioning to the buildings nearby. “Let’s go.”

Martyn held out his hand to Scott, the other taking it as they walked through the port town together. Scott shouldn’t get caught in the rain, otherwise the monsters might get to him. That’s what the legends said, right? At least, that’s what he remembered….

That must never happen.

Martyn removed his black coat and handed it to Scott as protection from the rain that was due to fall at any moment. Scott looked at Martyn and smiled softly, putting it over his head as they made their way towards the tavern.

Except, the more they kept walking the more the world shifted around them.

The clouds above them grew darker and heavier as flashes of lightning struck the sky, buildings became misshapen and abandoned, and lights from lantern posts flickered out with the sound of haunting winds. All sounds of life disappeared, gone with the warm sun as a chill ran up Martyn’s spine.

No. No no no. Martyn panicked, whipping his head around. This isn’t right- we’re not supposed to be here!

“What’s happening…?” Scott looked up at Martyn with wide eyes, squeezing his hand.

“I’m not sure,” Martyn shook his head. They needed to get out of here. Where would be the safest place to go? They had to go somewhere. “Stay with me. We’ll find a way out.”

Scott nodded, looking around the misty isle as Martyn pushed forward. This wasn’t right. They were just at Crowned Isles- near the Golden Apple. They weren’t on Crescent Bay. Crescent Bay was cold, creepy, and nowhere near as inviting as the Crowned Isles.

Scott shouldn’t be here.

“Have you been here before?” Scott whispered, leaning closer to Martyn’s arm as they continued to walk through the desolate streets.

“I have,” Martyn sighed. Everything was quiet. Martyn should feel some reassurance with Scott there, but if he were honest, it made the pit in his stomach worse. They needed to get out of here. Scott needed to be out of here. “Let’s keep going–”

“Maaaartyn,” The two froze. Pearl. Her tone was sadistically playful, accompanied by a hideous steady scratching sound. Martyn could imagine the gleeful smile on her face as her sickles ran against the wooden walls of a building. “I know you’re here. Come on out!”

“Who is she–”

Martyn made a shushing motion as he shook his head. “A lot to explain, very little time,” he forced a grin as his grip on Scott tightened, “we have to go.” And they began to run.

Just keep moving, Martyn told himself. There should be somewhere to hide away from–

THUD.

Pearl landed right in front of them, the ground shook as she collided with the earth. She slowly stood up and gripped the sickles at the sides of her belt as she breathed in the air. She loomed over them, her eyes glowing from the darkness of her face, illuminating her wicked grin and odd scar.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Pearl hissed. “You or your pretty little friend.”

Martyn pulled Scott’s hand.

“RUN!” Martyn screamed.

The two of them ran in the opposite direction, Pearl’s haunting laugh echoed off of the dusty old buildings as mist swirled on the streets. Martyn kept running, glancing at Scott every so often to make sure he was still there. Martyn gripped Scott’s hand tighter. There was no way he was losing him. Not now. Not ever.

Martyn wasn’t sure how long they spent running.

Everything around them shifted again, buildings turned to tall trees as they passed by large boulders and bushes. Any presence of a town was gone as the whole area turned into a huge forest. Martyn looked up. He could barely see any sky beyond the canopy. The trees were big and eclipsed the area with their shadows.

Martyn and Scott kept running, into the mist, into the darkness, finding somewhere safe.

“Over there!” Scott pointed to his side, some hope in his eyes. “A cave!”

Nestled in a large rock formation and covered by foliage, was a cave. It looked hidden, and probably their best chance in escaping Pearl. Martyn couldn’t hear her anymore, but he couldn’t risk being out in the open. It was best to stay hidden.

Martyn nodded as he looked at Scott, running inside and collapsing on the stony ground as soon as they arrived. Martyn’s heartbeat was loud and fast, his breath barely keeping up with it as he tried to calm it down. He composed himself, sitting up and leaning against the cave wall as he saw Scott put a hand on his chest, likely regulating his own breathing too.

“Are you alright?”

Scott blinked. “I’m… I’m fine,” he shook his head. “Are you okay?”

“I feel my legs are about to collapse on me,” Martyn sighed, pulling his legs up and pressing his head in his hands. There was a sore pain in his legs that he could feel burning all the way up his calves. His hands were sweaty, and likely the rest of his body was as well. That didn’t matter to him. Scott was fine. “But you’re alright. That’s all that matters to me.”

Scott furrowed his eyebrows and leaned on the opposite side of the cave wall. It had an odd glow behind him, probably something weird underneath. “You have to care about yourself too, Martyn.”

“You’re more important than I am.”

“No I’m not,” Scott crossed his arms. The two sat in relative silence, their once adrenaline fueled state leaving the longer they remained quiet. But Scott spoke up, his voice a whisper. “Focus on yourself first, alright?” he looked at Martyn with concern all over his face. “Breathe.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Here they were, on an island with a mad witch that would probably hunt them down for the fun of it, in a woods neither could likely navigate, but they were here. They were breathing. Sharing some peace and quiet. Martyn closed his eyes again, trying to ignore the buzzing in his head. Maybe some rest would do him good. After all that running, he’d need that time to recover from everything. Together. They were together.

But the moment he cracked one of his eyes open, his skin paled.

Those eyes.

…The sea prince.

The once golden light of the room had switched to a faint blue light that haloed Scott and covered the rest of the cave in shadows. Martyn couldn’t hear its heartbeat, couldn’t feel its breath waft over the room. But he could see the sea prince’s massive glowing eyes… less than a stone toss away.

And Scott didn’t even know it was behind him.

“Scott….” Martyn kept his eyes glued on the beast. Its head tilted as it looked at Martyn with cynical, eager hunger. 

“Is something wrong?” Scott tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. He still hasn’t noticed it–

“Scott, it’s behind you!”

“What’s behind–”

The last thing Martyn saw was the sea prince opening its yawning maw as Scott turned his head around.

—————

“SCOTT!”

Martyn’s eyes shot open with his scream. He could hear his own ragged breathing escape him as his vision began to focus. clear. He attempted to move, but he felt the bite of ropes tied around him, restraining him from doing anything.

Wait. Ropes?

“Where… am I…?” Martyn muttered to himself as he looked around the room. He wasn’t in that cave. Scott wasn’t with him. He should be far from Martyn and the rest of the Canaries, safely far away from Crescent Bay. Martyn blinked, shaking his head as he tried to recall how he might have ended up here. 

His eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness of the room, helped slightly with the faint glow from the moon streaming in from the broken window behind him. 

There was a small sitting area with an empty fireplace in front of him with a long, dusty red couch and a table with several big shells littered across it. He could see a cased opening to his right, the doorless doorway allowing him a glimpse of another room, but it was so cloaked in shadow that he could barely see anything recognizable through the darkness. Martyn craned his neck to see a bookshelf behind him, spiderwebs strung across it and the rest of the room. And when he looked up, he could see wooden beams, some chipped and with visible cuts on them. Martyn attempted to move, but the rope still had him bound, his hands tied behind the chair’s back and his legs tied together. 

At least he knew now that he was tied to a chair. An uncomfortable one. 

Whoever was living here must not enjoy cleaning very much. It was cold. It was very dusty. The place was very old.

Martyn sneezed, his nose irritated from all the surrounding dust. Whoever wanted me here must not think very highly of me.

Then again, considering the attitude he'd gotten when he'd managed to garner Pearl's interest, he had an inkling of who had caught him.

What was he even doing?

His memories were still a bit hazy, but Martyn could mostly remember walking into the forest. He snuck by Pearl, and that other person, then found an odd cave. An odd, gigantic cave with an equally as gigantic pool of water that should definitely not be there. And the water definitely hadn’t been normal. Something weird was going on in that pool.

Did it have anything to do with that sea prince?

…Maybe that was why it had been in his nightmare.

Martyn snapped out of his thoughts as he heard a creaking noise from above.

Someone was here.

He looked up the wooden beams to see a pair of eyes staring back at him. Those familiar, blue-green eyes poked out of the darkness as it looked at him with manic glee. Pearl. Why was he not surprised?

“Ah,” Pearl spoke in a teasing tone, barely hiding the excitement in her voice. “It seems like the little bird is finally up from his beauty rest!”

Pearl jumped down from the wooden beam with a soft thud and stood, the light of the red moon illuminating her front in all of her haunting glory as she approached him. The first thing Martyn noticed was the dried red patches on Pearl’s sickles as it glinted in the moonlight. He looked up at her, her smug grin and relaxed pose was all too familiar with him. 

It was different this time, however, with the dry blood on her weapons. 

No, he had to stay focused. 

“Where am I?” Martyn glared at Pearl, gritting his teeth. “What do you want from me?”

Pearl shook her head. “I’m not going to entertain your questions,” she leaned down and moved her face near Martyn’s as she raised her eyebrows. “But you will answer mine.”

“What makes you think I’ll answer you?”

“Hm,” Pearl moved her head back. She unsheathed one of her sickles and pointed it at Martyn, “I tossed around your little friends earlier. I could always go back and finish the job.” 

The blood on her sickles. That couldn’t be…! She hadn’t killed… one of the Canaries, had she? Her wording– she didn’t sound like she killed anyone, but there was blood on her sickles. Red blood could even hide itself in her red cape and hood. Her domineering stance, her readiness to strike Martyn down…. She could kill if she wanted to, couldn’t she? She had killed before…, hadn’t she?

That must have been the price to pay for bargaining with the sea princes. Powers beyond any comprehension… for her humanity, for human lives.

At least when Martyn killed, it was the beasts that threatened human lives. Not other humans.

“It’d be a shame, though,” Pearl shrugged, tilting her head as she spun the sickle around. “Using these blades isn't nearly as fun as tearing your ship apart.”

Martyn struggled, hoping to break through these ropes, to feel for something– anything to get him out of here. He couldn’t allow Pearl to slaughter his friends. He didn’t want more dead friends to mourn. Two were already too much. Pearl’s eyebrows raised as she noticed Martyn’s struggles and shook her head, sighing in amusement as she watched him.

“Don’t even try to wriggle out,” Pearl smirked as she sheathed her sickle back to its holder. “The ropes are too tight to loosen, and it isn’t like I’m stupid enough to leave anything sharp nearby.”

Other than those sickles, Martyn thought bitterly.

“So, are you going to behave, or should I pay your birdie friends another visit?”

Martyn looked at the ground, eyes narrowed. If he had no chance of escape now, he just had to wait until Pearl left to do something. Maybe entertaining her could give the others a chance to find him. Gods, he felt like a damsel in distress. The others better get him out of here. Martyn sighed, resigned, and glared up at Pearl. “What do you want?”

“I want to entertain myself a bit with a little songbird,” Pearl crossed her arms, leaning against the couch behind her. “Keeping you in this cage means you can leave my friend alone.”

Friends? She had friends? Or, one at least….

Martyn had never heard of Pearl until he arrived on this island with his friends and those Kites, who was she friends with? Martyn tried to recall any incidents where he was being rude or insulting others, but- the islanders all hated her, he'd thought. They were scared of her, not friends. What was she talking about?

Martyn raised an eyebrow. “Why would I want to do anything to your friend?”

“You already have,” Pearl’s expression soured as she glared daggers at Martyn, a low, inhuman growl escaping her throat. “Making him feel for you, feelings of attraction, of care,” she shook her head and sneered at him, “for some human like you.”

Martyn blinked. Pearl wanted to keep him trapped here because… her friend had a crush on him? What was the problem with that?

It sounded incredibly petty– it was incredibly petty.

“Well, I don’t know your friend, but if he’s in love with me, that’s his business, not yours,” Martyn shook his head. Did he really need to tell her that? That should be obvious. “We’re human, not beasts! We catch feelings sometimes. You can’t control how he feels about others.”

Silence.

Pearl’s expression was unreadable. Her eyes widened and tilted her head, as if she didn’t understand what he was saying. It looked like rage slowly boiled over her as her hands balled up into fists, tightening as the ground faintly shook around them with a rumble.

Finally, Pearl let out a sigh and shook her head, releasing her hands. “...Right,” her eyes narrowed, her voice a low hiss, “because only us humans ever feel anything.”

Martyn did not know how to respond. 

What was he supposed to say? She was human. Sure, she was a horrible monster that threatened to kill people and likely had killed people for making her deal with a sea prince, but she was human all the same. She had feelings, just as everyone else did and so did her friend, whoever he was. What else could feel the way they do? 

The two stared at each other, unsure of when the other would look away. It felt like agony as Martyn counted the seconds that passed by. He hoped for something. A rustle in the wind, something tapping the window, the door knocking–

He froze as soon as he heard a distant knock on a distant door.

All of Pearl’s anger quickly subsided as she perked up. “Ah, looks like my friend is here,” she smiled, stretching her arms as she began to walk away from Martyn. “I’m sure you can handle being alone for a little while, won’t you?”

“Where are you going?!”

“A short walk. A breath of fresh air, if you would,” Pearl shrugged. She held the wooden frame of the cased opening as she glanced at Martyn with a smug look on her face, “So be a good little canary and stay quiet for me until I get back, okay?”

Martyn tried to utter a response, but Pearl had already walked out. He could hear her footsteps on the creaky old floors until it became distant. He shut his eyes as he cringed at the sound of the door opening and slamming shut, leaving Martyn alone in this dusty old house.

Martyn struggled against the ropes again. There had to be a way out somewhere, right? If this place– a cabin, likely– was abandoned for so long, maybe the chair was so old that he could wiggle some pieces of it loose. Or he could try to break the rope by force. Or, and likely the more realistic option, he could wait until the others found him. They must be worried sick. He knew he would be too if one of his friends just vanished one night. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone outside. Maybe he should’ve just stayed in bed despite not being able to sleep. Maybe he should stop thinking about that sea prince. More and more thoughts filled his head and his gut twisted in guilt.

I hope the others are okay….

Martyn looked up at the wooden beams and grit his teeth. He looked down at the ground.

And he shouted in frustration. 

[kitashousewife]

storm warning

an: i just had the overwhelming urge to write this as i watched the first warm-weather storm roll in tonight.

pairings: timeskip!kita x fem!reader

warnings: storms, thunder and lightning mentions, husband kita, food and drink mentions, eating mentions, but all fluff!

-

the day started out beautiful. completely blue skies without a cloud in sight, sun shining in its full glory through the morning and afternoon. it was one of those days when it wasn't too hot or cold. just lovely.

you spent the morning tidying things up, catching up on the counter full of dishes after a few days, the length of which you'd rather not admit. everything was calm, quiet, and perfect.

kita finally brought out his sunhat, just for the occasion.

it's around five in the evening once you finally finish everything. the once pale blue linen of your dress now has a few dirt and grass stains at the knees, evidence of your work in the flower beds this afternoon. that, and the brand-new bouquet that rests on the kitchen table. you smile as your fingers stroke the petals, predicting the faux-irritation your husband will give you when he returns and realizes that you have once again gotten flowers before he could gift them to you.

your bare feet pad along the worn wood floors of the house with a laundry basket on your hip. the clothesline-dried towels now returning to their respective places around the home; another chore put off until today.

and now you stand in the kitchen, drumming your fingertips on the counter anxiously while checking the time once again, sighing when you realize it's only been about fifteen minutes. another thirty and kita will be home for the evening.

sunny spring days mean an opportunity for him to plant without any distractions. hours where he can get every sprout lined up, pristine lines in every field and not have to worry about the cold or the rain. the worst part is that he's away from you all day. sure, he could just walk back to the house for some tea, but the perfectionist in him just won't let him.

the jazz record from the living room provides a soothing hum as you flip through recipe books, the kind with yellowing pages and marked corners. from the corner of your eye, you notice curtains in the living room windows swaying slightly. you don't mind them very much at first.

five minutes later, and you're rushing around the house to shut all of the windows.

kita had shared about this kind of storm before. the complete opposite of in like a lion, out like a lamb. where the day starts out perfect, only to be swallowed up by dark, looming clouds.

this is kita's favorite weather.

he's shared numerous stories about these specific times. helping granny shut the windows just as you are now, quickly bringing in any toys or loose articles of clothing he shed while playing before they get soaked. laughing as he plays in the rain, much to granny's dismay until he finally gets drug inside for a bath before the lightning comes. and, his favorite part: falling asleep to the rain on his window.

every window has been shut by the time the last bit of blue sky is tucked away, just in time for the wind to really kick up. the tire swing in the front yard now sways dramatically, mimicking the times when kita has pushed you high, swinging back and forth to the sounds of your laughter. you've double-checked the laundry room window, the one that leaks when you're hit with a terrible realization.

staring back at you from the clothesline, horizontal in the wind, is the entirety of your bedding.

"no, no, no," you mumble to yourself, throwing on the barely dry sweater lying on the dryer, forgoing shoes as you rush out the back door. your fingers work quick, frantically undoing all of the clothespins and stuffing all of the fabric under your arm. you swear you feel a raindrop hit your nose as you grab the last pillowcase from the line.

"ya better get movin' sugar, or yer gonna melt in the rain."

kita's smirking at you with rosy cheeks, but you'll get on his case later for not using enough sunscreen. he grabs the wad of sheets from you, placing a quick kiss on your lips.

"i've missed you today shin," you smile, following behind as he holds your hand. he holds the door open for you, and you quickly shuffle in.

"and i missed ya too, pretty girl. what did you do today?"

kita slips off his shoes and pads to your shared room, plopping the sheets on the bed before changing out of his work clothes.

"well," you flop onto the bed, inhaling the fresh scent that you can't wait to snuggle into later. "i did the dishes and the laundry this morning."

kita hums. "thanks for doin' that."

you nod, continuing. "i finally cleaned up the flower beds and the garden. i can't believe the weeds, i just pulled them!"

kita laughs, emerging from the closet in sweats and a very faded, but now clean thanks to your doing, inarizaki sweatshirt.

"i saw, they look great. you'll have the best flowers in hyogo if ya keep it up." he's now laying on top of you, caging you in between the sheets and his warm body. he places a kiss on your forehead, then your lips as you giggle.

"oh! i also took the rest of the lemons an-"

a distant, but loud crack cuts you off, and kita bolts to the window with a smile.

"c'mon darlin'! we gotta move or we'll miss it," he grabs your hand, pulling you into the kitchen.

"miss what?"

he leans over his shoulder, pulling the pitcher of lemonade you were so rudely interrupted about from the fridge.

"the show, of course."

he whips open the cabinets, grabbing the first two glasses he can get his hands on, before nodding towards the door.

"we've got front-row seats."

he gestures towards the handle, which you open for him, and he runs outside to your deck. the porch swing sways slightly and kita laughs.

"have a seat baby. i'll get it all set up," he grins and places the pitcher and glasses on the table next to the swing and begins to pour glasses for the two of you. you sit on the swing, feet kicking back and forth as you rest on your hands and stare at the sky.

past the tree in your front yard are miles and miles of dark clouds, some appear to be almost dripping down. a few of the fields in the distance now seem blurry, and the poor flower basket hanging from your eaves shakes wildly.

"see those clouds? the ones that look like they're fallin'?"

you nod, grabbing the glass of lemonade from your husband.

"that means it's rainin' right there," he points, finally sitting beside you. another crack in the distance sounds, and kita just about lights up. a few seconds after, light rumbling fills your ears.

"i know that a lot of people hate storms, but i love em'. i think thunder and lightnin' make for the best shows," he takes a sip from his glass and whistles as the rain begins to fall. slow at first, only a few drops hitting the grass in front of you. but after a few seconds it becomes more steady, and begins to drip from the porch roof.

kita breathes in and sighs. "smell that? that's my favorite smell ever," he breathes again, turning to you. you breathe in and smile. the once-dry ground mixes with the rain, the warm and the cool mixing together.

"you're so cute, shin,"

he blushes, and not just from the sunburn.

"i just think storms are cool, that's all."

the two of you sit in silence, watching as the lightning strikes light up the sky in the distance with a purplish hue, followed by the drumming of thunder through the fields.

"pretty," you mumble over your glass after lightning dances through the sky again, webbing through the clouds.

"isn't it?"

you smile as another strike claps through the air.

"absolutely."

the storm rolls on, playing it's own song just for the two of you while you watch, legs draped across kita's thighs on the porch swing. a different sound grabs your attention.

"hungry?"

kita nods. "i could eat."

you sit up and stretch, feeling a little sleepy from the rain.

"i haven't had a chance to run to the store," you yawn. "we have leftovers in the fridge."

"sure beautiful. whatever ya want. ya know i'm not picky." a playful smirk plays at his lips and you scoff.

"we both know you're the pickiest person in the relationship."

kita holds the door open for you and rolls his eyes.

"and ya still love me,"

you smile. "and i always will."

the storm continues through the evening, providing lots of entertainment during dinner. one strike of lighting even caught kita off guard, causing him to spill his tea all over the counter, meaning he got teased about it for the rest of the night.

and now, as the two of you lie together on your freshly made bed and clean sheets to the sound of rain, you understand why kita loves storms so much. the rain drums against the roof quietly, lulling the two of you to sleep. you're wrapped in his arms and he sighs, kissing you on the head one last time before he finally closes his eyes.

kita dreams of you, dancing around in the rain while he spins you, out of breath from laughter. he hopes it storms again sometime soon so that he can recreate it for you.

but for tonight he holds you close, hearts beating almost in sync under the hum of the rain.

[space-mermaid-writing]

Fangs and Fur [NSFW IronStrange]

Summary: For their camping trip Tony takes Stephen to his lake cabin. Things get heated when Tony brings freshly hunted dinner home.

Tags: Vampire Stephen Strange, Werewolf Tony Stark, porn with plot, there’s some plot if you squint, porn with feelings, established relationship, Top Tony Stark, Bottom Stephen Strange, not vegan friendly, blood play, but not the way you think, they just eat a deer, smut, ass eating, rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, pure filth, I’m going to wash my eyes with soap now, thank you and good night

Author's note: Research told me Tony’s lake cabin is in Fairburn, Georgia. That doesn’t work with this story. So, I relocated it. This is 18+. Read at your own risk. Beta by @harpywritesfic <3

 Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Word count: 2.8k

Fangs and Fur

In the tranquil embrace of a secluded lake, a wolf emerged from the dense undergrowth; its amber eyes scanning the surroundings with a predatory intensity. Its brown and gray coat rippled with each movement as it loped along the water's edge.

Tony enjoyed spending time in the forest around the lake. The scenery was beautiful and secluded. And most importantly, it was private property.

Ever since their trip to Ural he had become... not paranoid, but it was close enough.

That was why he had taken Stephen here. The cabin was monitored by Jarvis and while there was no fence around the perimeter of the property, Tony had taken his own security measures.

The midwest, where his lake cabin was located, was in truth too warm and too sunny for any vampire during the summer, but Tony wouldn't take him into unknown territory again; even if the weather was more vampire friendly elsewhere.

His cabin had air-conditioning and the sunlight was blocked out during the day. The nights were actually doable for Stephen to step out at this time of the year.

They were still figuring out a sleep schedule that worked for both of them. Vampires didn’t have to sleep per se and since Tony installed UV filtering windows in every single building he owned, Stephen was often found up and awake during the day.

As long as he stayed indoors, he was fine.

The wolf's keen senses detected the faintest of sounds, his ears twitching as he caught the distant rustling of leaves. For a moment he went absolutely still; and he waited.

A young stag stepped into his view, looking for water. It must have been separated from its herd; either because it had been careless or because it was just misfortunate.

For a normal wolf it would have been too big of a prey even at its young age, but for the Were – especially a strong one like Tony – it was a welcomed challenge. Plus, Tony was always one for going slightly over the top; especially when he intended to impress his mate.

The werewolf stalked its prey silently, taking advantage of the fact that the wind was coming from the opposite direction. The human part of Tony’s brain shut off and he relied solely on his senses; he was just a wolf on a hunt.

He waited for the right moment. Then, with lightning speed, the wolf surged forward towards his prey. The buck, startled by the sudden movement, bolted away, its hooves pounding against the soft earth.

The wolf gave chase, his relentless pursuit echoing through the silent forest. As the buck drew closer to a stream that flowed from the lake, the wolf's instincts kicked in. He veered sharply to the right, cutting off its quarry's escape route. With a desperate leap, the buck attempted to clear the water, but the wolf was too quick. He lunged at the buck's hind legs, his razor-sharp teeth sinking into the flesh.

The buck collapsed. It struggled, trying to get to its feet. There was a brief scuffle, which was finally ended by the wolf's strong jaw with a final bite to the stag's throat.

The Were waited briefly to see if the stag would just do so much as twitch; yet it remained dead.

As the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the lake, the wolf dragged its prey back to the cabin, satisfied with the result of his hunt.

As soon as he stepped onto the front porch, Jarvis opened the door to Tony’s home. Home because of who he knew was waiting for him.

Tony dragged his prey straight into their shared bedroom, not minding the mess he was making along the way.

Stephen sat on the bed, legs crossed and his hands on his knees. He was meditating; the closest thing vampires had to sleeping. His mind had to be far away, since he didn't move despite Tony dropping the stag on the floor with a 'thunk'.

The sorcerer was just wearing a simple robe. The two of them had spent most of their time together in bed in the last days. And on the couch. And on the kitchen counter.

It was mostly Tony’s fault. Once in a while the Were felt this particular kind of restlessness. Like an itch at the back of his mind that took hold of his whole body.

Some people called it being in a rut, but society had put some stigma on that phrase. So people ceased to talk about it at all.

Tony climbed onto the bed, moving his snout into Stephen's face in demand for attention.

That got finally a reaction out of the vampire; he complained by letting out a grunt. Blinking, he buried his fingers into the soft fur.

“No dog drool in my face.”

Tony shifted back under the scarred fingers of his mate; each of his bones cracking roughly back into their place as if they had briefly forgotten they were part human.

He was left naked – clothes weren’t part of the shapeshifting.

Stephen noticed the blood on Tony's face. It wasn't unusual whenever the Were came back from hunting, but normally it wasn't as much - the scent of blood was way stronger than he was used to.

He didn't have much time to think about it though, because Tony claimed his mouth with a kiss. It was rough and sloppy. Stephen had the impression that Tony's brain hadn't quite switched over to human yet. The wolf was always a part of him; these past days it was just more evident.

Stephen licked the blood from Tony’s lips; then he continued on the chin, holding the Were’s face between his trembling hands.

Tony enjoyed the attention, yet his smile remained wolfish. He was hyper-focused on Stephen; he was still on a hunt.

“I brought you a snack,” Tony drawled, pulling away.

Stephen turned his head to look at the stag on the floor. Unimpressed by the mess, he raised an eyebrow. “You’ll never get those stains out of the carpet.”

“Really? I provide food, like the great mate that I am, and all you do is complain about unimportant stains?” Tony pushed the Vamp towards the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna call the carpet installer next week and rip it out. Now, drink.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, yet complied without another word. Graciously, he slid onto the carpet floor and eyed the animal closer, before they darted back to Tony. “This was a strong buck.”

Tony’s chest puffed up, recognizing the compliment. “It was.”

Only the best was good enough for Stephen. The Were continued to watch his every move, like the predator he was.

So was Stephen.

He lifted the buck's head and without breaking eye contact he sunk his teeth into its neck.

The blood was still warm and very sweet. Normally, a vampire needed humanoid blood to survive. But he had drunk from Tony yesterday; and the day before. They had to wait to repeat that or the Were would suffer from severe blood loss.

Animal blood was more like a dessert for vampires. Delicious, but Stephen couldn’t live solely on it. Plus, afterwards he always felt like he was drunk; or high on sugar. And while Tony found that fun to watch, it wasn’t advisable in Stephen’s line of work. So he usually avoided it unless he was on a getaway with Tony.

Stephen drank a decent amount from the stag, even though he wasn’t actually thirsty. Consuming blood of all kinds also had another side effect on vampires.

Tony pulled him back onto the bed and Stephen let go of the prey. He ended up under the Were.

They kissed again, this time more heated. Whenever he drank blood, his cheeks became rosy. It was fascinating to watch the color return to his skin.

Tony loved the ethereal beauty of his vampire mate. Especially under the silvery cloak of moonlight, when Stephen looked like a creature from another world.

But when he looked like this, when he almost looked alive, Tony had all the urge to wreck him.

His tongue traced lines over the vampire’s skin. “Here’s what I’m going to do,” he purred, his voice a few octaves lower. A shiver ran down Stephen’s spine. “I’ll mark you as mine. There won’t be an inch of your skin that won’t feel my touch.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Only Tony knew how to make his words wash over Stephen like he was putting every single promise to work.

The Vamp’s pupils were blown, the animal blood already taking effect. He dug his fingers into Tony’s soft hair, sharp nails dragging over the scalp.

He let the Were manhandle him, let him take the lead; like he knew Tony wanted.

The Were removed the belt of the robe Stephen was still wearing and pushed it off his shoulders. The vampire didn’t see where on the floor his clothes ended up. Strong arms turned him onto his stomach and he propped up onto his knees and elbows.

Tony stayed behind him. He stuck out his tongue and pressed it against Stephen’s hole, then down towards his balls. He repeated this process multiple times, until he heard a stifled moan. He loved it when Stephen moaned; it was one of his favorite sounds.

He pressed his tongue flat against his hole and wiggled it back and forth.

“F-fuck, Tony…”

The Were smiled, his tongue not stopping the work, circling his rim again before it pushed into the heated center.

Tony groaned in arousal, his dick aching to get inside his mate. But not yet. He wanted to play with his prey.

He readjusted his grip and pulled Stephen's cheeks even wider, pressing a wet kiss onto the opening.

A gasp escapes Stephen’s, morphing into a deep moan as Tony sank his tongue fully inside him. He shook with arousal, biting his lips to keep his noises down as the Were began thrusting his tongue in and out of his ass.

It didn’t take long until Stephen met each thrust eagerly. “More… Tony. I need you. I need more of you.”

Tony had the wherewithal to pull away the slightest amount. His eyes transfixed on the glistening hole and the unbroken string of spit connecting them.

“Patience, Steph,” he said – low and husky – as if he didn’t have trouble restraining himself from devouring his mate right here and now. “I will fuck you. When I’m satisfied with how open you are, I will fuck you until I come inside you, and you’ll take it like a good little vampire without coming before I do.”

Stephen dropped his head onto the pillow. “I think you’re overestimating my stamina,” he whispered. He had kept up with the Were's appetite over the last few days, but each time he had become a little more desperate for his mate. And the animal blood in his veins did the rest to keep him on edge too soon.

Somehow, Tony’s touch was soft over his hip bones.

“Maybe. But I don’t think I’m overestimating your determination,” he whispered, climbing up Stephen’s body like a predator.

And fuck, fuck, he’s right. Stephen would hold out for him, even if he had to do it by sheer will.

“Yeah,” the vampire rasps. He shifted under Tony’s weight. “Yeah. Fuck, I will.”

Tony smiled, beautiful and wicked at once. He dipped down to kiss Stephen’s shoulder, all fangs and teeth. At the same time he dipped his finger inside the vampire.

Stephen squirmed, throwing his head back. His mouth was open but he didn’t dare to let out more than a strained noise; too afraid to come undone.

Tony showed mercy and didn’t go for his prostate immediately. Instead he pumped his finger – one, two times, before he added a second one. Then he pulled his fingers out and watched the rim suckle onto them, as if trying to keep them inside.

The Vamp whined at the loss until Tony was kissing his back, kissing him all the way up to his neck. He stopped there. “Ready?”

Stephen shivered. He turned his head and met Tony’s eyes. And he nodded.

“Ready.”

They moaned in unison as Tony sunk into him. His shaft pulsed and throbbed inside him, the burn of accommodation making Stephen go cross eyed, despite the preparation beforehand.

Tony smiled breathlessly into his neck, grabbing Stephen’s waist and using a bruising grip to grind his cock into him with deep, slow thrusts.

The Vamp’s hole felt like heaven around him.

“You’re doing so good, so good for me,” he murmured lowly in Stephen’s ear. “Look at you. Beautiful.”

Stephen moaned when Tony picked up pace.

“Gorgeous.”

Tony smiled ferally and Stephen could feel the moment the Were in Tony took over. The gentle thrusting was over, replaced by more frantic buckling of hips and a wet squelching that was loud and dirty against their panted breaths.

Stephen shuddered as claws traced over his shoulder blades and dug into the skin, not quite breaking it but offering a sharp pressure.

As Tony bucked into him with enough force to almost move the bed, Stephen felt his own cock leaking. He hung his head low between his shoulders, his entire body trembling, aching, burning, all for Tony.

Stephen’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, knowing his release was near, but wanting so badly for Tony to come first. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a sharp gasp escaped him.

Tony set a rapid pace, fucking deep and hard. He felt his balls slap against the vampire with every thrust, heavy with lust.

It’s pure instinct. He was fucking into Stephen hard and holding him down, pinning him onto the mattress. And then he was coming.

Tony felt his orgasm rip through him; he saw stars, shooting his load deep inside the vampire. He didn’t stop thrusting all the while, only slowed down a bit as watched his dick disappearing into Stephen again and again.

“You’re going to come for me?” Tony murmured, his hands still holding Stephen’s hips. He dipped down to run the flat of his tongue over the small space that connected the vampire’s neck and shoulder.

His cock pressed Stephen's prostate the same time he sunk down his teeth in a mating bite. Despite not being a werewolf, the Vamp shuddered all over, crying out helplessly.

Tony’s mouth didn’t relent, sucking on the skin until it was reddened and shiny with spit. Until Stephen’s spine bent inwards and he unraveled completely.

His orgasm hit with a jarring force and completely overwhelmed him. Tony rode the high with him, slowly coming down from his own until both of them stilled, panting heavily.

Tony kissed the reddened skin, more gently this time. He eventually rolled off Stephen and lowered himself down to his side, watching him.

Stephen’s smile was wide and hazy. Tony’s heart was practically soaring out of his chest looking at the disheveled dark-haired vampire. Nobody else got to see him like this. He was always surrounded by an air of properness and perfection.

But now, he looked like any mortal man. His cheeks still blushed, his lips were swollen and hair was falling in his face. He looked beautiful like this and Tony’s heart filled with pride, knowing that he did this to the vampire.

Tony moved towards him and Stephen welcomed him in his arms. The Were nestled into Stephen's chest, inhaling his scent that was mixed with his own. It was perfect.

He probably oozed happy pheromones, pestering the air with it. He didn’t care. Nor did Stephen, who kissed the top of the Were’s head.

They enjoyed each other’s company, catching their breaths, until Stephen's voice broke the silence. “You okay there?”

Normally, Tony barely shut up for five minutes. So the question was justified.

“More than okay,” Tony chuckled, his voice hoarse from exertion. “Are you?”

“Absolutely.” Stephen lazily played with a lock of Tony’s hair.

Tony still inquired. “I wasn’t too rough?”

“You could never. I’m a vampire, remember?”

“Exactly: you’re not a werewolf. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

Stephen let out an amused huff, touched by the concern. They had talked about it before; Tony would have to do a lot more to hurt Stephen – and vice versa. He didn’t want to start that argument though, instead he started massaging Tony’s head, down to his neck.

Tony let out a content sigh and snuggled closer to his mate. “You’re the best fucking thing that happened to me.”

Stephen still had enough blood in his veins to blush. And wasn’t it ironic that – after all the sex they had had over the past few days – it was this simple statement just now that made his face turn a soft pink; as if he was a bashful young boy.

Maybe it was because he knew Tony didn’t use these words light-hearted.

“I love you too,” Stephen whispered into Tony’s hair and he felt the Were’s lips turn into a smile against his chest.

Then Stephen pushed him into his back and leaned over him, his grin all teeth. “In fact, let me show you how much.”

Tony chuckled. “Fuck yeah!”

_________

Tony drags the stag through his cabin like he wants to decorate it like a children’s hospital (get it? Because of the trail of blood...)

[fumikomiyasaki]

Sweet Escape

Cw: mostly fluff and ship content, OC x Canon, Fumi not being a professional writer

Even if to many Heartslabyul students it seemed like the two were dating already... even after Treys sweet confession with a cake she couldn't really believe this was real... that they were a thing now... in itself it made Carol nervous but excited as well... and she knew... she wanted to make it something special.

And so for her first date with him she decided to make room when it comes to tutoring... her schedule was always a busy one but she didn't want anything to get in the way of this special day. Especially cause those last days with her students wore her down... as she wrote some notes and made up some ideas between classes she noticed a hand laying a muffin on the table that was all too familiar as she turned her head and smiled.

"Punctual as usual, Sweetcake."

"Someone seems excited."

"After all I look forward to our meeting later. I did plan some things."

He put a hand on her shoulder and winked. "Knowing you it probably will be nice, just don't overdo it, Carol. Or else I need to carry you there later."

Her cheeks grew a little red. "I will make sure to watch out for that."

He placed a kiss on her cheek and moved on... she couldn't help but stare after him as Lyla next to her snapped her out of it.

"Guess you still need to finish your plan right? Girl, I know what you think right now but-"

"Don't mind it... I do have that dress Mythra recommended... it is a good day today so might as well try that summer dress. And I think I just got the place I can invite him to."

Lyla gave her a nod. "Just loosen up and have fun, will you. You always try to work hard to make a good impression on others so, relax."

"Thank you Lyla."

"And what about me, are you two not going to ask me how I got this wound?" Leroy scoffed at them as Carol looked in concern and plastered a bandaid on the spot. "With your dorm... its no wonder it happens. But If there is anything I can get you, do tell Lee."

"Better listen to Lyla, I am fine, don't worry about others and think of yourself."

With a smile the tutor got up and moved on after finishing her lunch.. the day went exhausting as usual. Eventually she went back to Ramshackle, changed her clothes and texted Trey where to meet up... with a smile she looked up at his face lighting up seeing her... she even could spot a blush on it... noticing the picnic basket in his hands.

He opened his arms to hug her a little before they looked at another.

"You look... really pretty in this."

"Thank you. I see you also did take my request to heart."

"If you chose a nice place might as well provide with something nice to eat as well. I hope a warm apple pie will be to your liking."

He pulled an arm around her as she chuckled. "You know me well already."

The nervous feeling she had was lifted just seeing his smirk... she held her hand to his while they walked, accepting his arm in an half embrace... the wind slowly drifted across them on this sunny day... a perfect day for a stroll to the flower fields and a picnic...

The sweet smell of Begonias and Lilies drew near as Carol started to hold Treys hand calmly guiding him through the flower garden she found... a fountain gave a calm breeze in this heat before they both settled down on a blanket and packed out their lunches.

"To think people thought we been dating so long and this is our actual first date... its kinda silly."

"I must say... its probably cause many were jealous... "

"Hm?"

"Being with such a pretty tutor and spending a lot time with her... I feel I had many sharp gazes at me."

She twirled her hair a bit red.

"I am sorry for the obvious annoyances following me...I do hope they will stop now that I am in a relationship."

"Even then... I wouldn't mind dealing with them."

He put a hand firmly on hers scooting closer to her as if the calm her.

"I know... I feel good when I am with you, Trey. And not only cause of the treats."

He laughed slightly before looking into her eyes.

"I think there is something sweeter than my treats."

"And what would that be?" Her tone was teasing a little but she got caught of guard that he actually did lean forward to kiss her... she welcomed it however... it was a sweet taste... probably from baking earlier there was still some of the sugar lingering on his lips... with a blush she withdrew again.

"You are right... your kisses are almost addicting." She smiled softly.

"I can only give that back... but for now... lets enjoy this view a little."

The two set the food aside and looked up at the sky, as Carol snuggled in his embrace...

"I am glad... you decided to confess to me... I been having those feelings for a while but now... it feels like I am finally free... open to show you how often I thougth about hugging you like this."

He looked down at her in his arms and squeezed her tighter.

"And I don't mind if you want any more affections, I welcome them, my dear Apple."

It was just the rest she needed... just her... the soothing smell, the warmth of him holding her... this was all to forget her worries... her stress... she just felt happy. She could talk about her worries, her stress, share fun stories from tutoring.

Eventually the Sun was setting, the two packed their food in and rolled the blanket up.

"So shall I take you back or-"

"Actually...Trey, I want to still spend time with you... could we.... "

She put her fingers together as he put his hands on hers.

"I know a nice way to stroll around and chat. And I will bring you to your dorm too once we are done."

"Thank you so much."

"However~ What if we go to a Karaoke bar?"

"W-what makes you choose that?"

He smirked at her. "You friends told me you have a nice singing voice but are not confident in it."

"They are correct... so you do wanna hear it."

"The best way to face a worry is to confront it. So how about we do that."

"Okay... I will try then. Lead the way."

In the end... eventually the night passed and they both walked hand in hand to the Ramshackle dormitory... at the door step Carol turned around... her hair flowing with the wind of the night... as she put her hands on his shoulders...

"Can I get a good nights kiss, sweetcake?"

"Of couse."

With one lean down she wanted to take it all in... keep this mind in memory... get into bed with a good feeling.... she knew this was the start of something she would be looking forward to each day. Even if it meant having to deal with her bothersome students more. She was glad to have Trey at her side.

[whillywisp]

Hi i have thoughts. Listen. I'm well aware that canonically, District 4 is sunny and warm and my worst nightmare (i hate summer and heat I'm sorry) but i like to imagine that District 4 is cold and under a near constant cover of clouds and rain (yeah yeah don't come at me for this i live in a city like this myself its not just because of Twilight i hate that series but the aesthetic is very similar to where i am from.)

So. Headcanons? On Finnick's aesthetic if he was from anywhere like that:

Dark gloomy days; fishing boats roaring to life over the sound of the waves; cold water lapping at his feet as he contemplates the ways his life has changed; Annie's red hair his guiding light on the dark beach, a pile of seashells at their cold feet; the silver of his trident as bright as the thunder and lightening in the grey sky; meadows hidden in the woods lining the cliffs; cliff diving into the ocean on the verge of a seastorm; Mags' brush through his bronze hair; the fog that blurs everything in sight during the early hours of the day when he steps into the woods behind victor's village barefoot; the salt in his hair; the crisp cold of the wind chilling his sea soaked skin; the green of his eyes as bright as the tall, lush trees that overlooks the entire district; the waves crashing at the foot of the cliffs his new house sits on, white as snow as they break.

The smell of bleach and sterilizer still lingers in the air of his new room, in every breath he takes, his face pressed into his forearm where it rests on the windowsill as he watches the rain like he always did on quiet days home from the career academy. Just now, everything is different.

He's fourteen, a victor and even the rain of his home can't blanket him in it's safety anymore. His tears join them instead as he lets himself breathe.

[atheliasnotebook]

caramel words and wishes

kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader

tw: pretty angsty, mentions of death

it’s hard to be good to yourself. even if you don’t take care of yourself, at least there is someone who's got their hand held out for you.

╰────── ꔫ ──────♡

it's hard not being afraid. hard not being fearful of scaring kazuha away with any of your troubles, or being so burdensome to the point where he thinks its overwhelming. affection through physical gesture is your love language—but it's not the same when it comes simply just to holding hands and intertwining fingers. maybe if you weren't so afraid, you'd hug him more. give him more kisses as you pass one another in the kitchen. in your mind, you can't help: will that be the last time you ever feel that touch?

why lose what you have? the two of you had gotten together after the entire situation quelled with the raiden shogun's strike on your lover. now, after all of that happened, that is the question. what are you afraid of?

first, death. you loved this boy, and it didn't matter whether he returned your same feelings, but if he could be happy. in one way, if he died, your heart would eat away at the rest of your body in the guilt knowing you could never get to tell him how much you loved him. yet, at the top of this subsection of worries, you wondered if anything would change in his life if you died. kazuha: the calm, collected, and wise—is not the type of person who would react in any sort of outlandish way in response to the typical ending to every mortal's life.

second, solitude. crying alone in bed is not ideal, let alone crying at all. crying is for the weak. it's for the stupid. it's for the pathetic who have no other outlets who have no ability to do anything else. nope, no motivation to stress-clean out the pain, there's no juice left to create some profound expression through art, and no drive to work out and constantly keep a healthy body (like the world recommends). your boyfriend is always out on business, if not on the ship. that aquatic vessel is your home, but will all the tears you cry fill the gap that is in between yours and kazuha's relationship? at least then, if it does, one of you has the option to sail out of this sinking love swiftly.

it's better to simply suffer in silence and wallow in pain than to suffer a lonely life, just as you anticipated.

love is a surprise to you. how could anyone love you? after all, when you had fallen in love after being friends for a couple of years on top of that, what will happen when you lose him? will there ever be another person to write exquisite reveries dedicated to you—ones where the words practically dance graciously in unison with the gentle zephyrs of the season. if he leaves... will there ever be another person who's willing to listen to you blab on and on and on about the things that trouble(d) you in this "fleeting existence" (as kazuha would refer to it)?

it doesn't take long to realize how warm and blurry your vision is. obscured by the tears and congestion that fills your nose, the customary wind-whistling halts to a stop.

"______, there is something that bothers you so," kazuha observes aloud, tossing the leaf in the wind as he scoots closer to you, where the both of you can savor the modest shade during a sunny day.

"you know..." he begins. "i have noticed how you are distant from me as of late."

his voice begins to drop in volume, not quite to a whisper or a mutter, but just gently lowered. he creases his eyebrows, turning his head toward you.

"i quite adore your company." kazuha looks to the sky, and then back to you—whose trying to hide the falling tears from your face. "often, i catch myself grazing my fingers over the grooves in my palm hoping to replicate the warmth of your hand."

but you thought he didn't like your company. why would anyone like you? too clingy for your own good, wanting to be around him to the point where you're stuck to his side.

"sorry," you start off. "it's better that i distance myself. in my last relationship, they broke off things with me because i was too affectionate."

you couldn't help but feel more tears fall as you speak about... whoever.

the poet nods, his arms crossed in a loose-like way as he scoots closer to you.

"there is a wise saying i heard from my travels long ago: 'the bigger the burden, the smaller the bottle.'" you think of the saying, unsure of what it actually means.

"the longer you choose to hold onto regrets and fears from the past, in comparison, the bottle in which you hold those sentiments becomes smaller—and thus, easier to break."

kazuha holds his arms open to you, encouraging you to take him into an embrace. and with a slight hesitation, you back away with widened eyes of anxiety. he smiles, nodding in reassured approval. and then, attempting to release all the rushing tides that swirl within the bottle.

a warm hug, and a smile followed by hitched and breathy sobs. you shake and tremble the tightest hug you've ever had. at least, the tightest one you ever had and liked.

"no matter how far we are separated, my heart shall always belong to you and only you. regardless of the distance that may stand between us, i will love you forever and always. the very thought of leaving you splits my soul in two. so, please..." he says, pulling you closer in your hug. "never think that i don't want you around. your touch is like that of the most perfect and tender kisses.”

╰────── ꔫ ──────♡

link to landing page here !

liyue characters masterlist here !

[strawberry-cowmilk]

the last day of summer

-> asmodeus x mc (romantic or platonic though maybe a little more hinted towards romantic)

-> your last day of summer didn't go as planned

a/n: based on a real experience that happened to me today (heartbreaking) and decided to use it as inspiration for writing (my creativity is at its limit help me help me) also I realised I kinda messed up halfway through writing this but let's just pretend like the devildom has sun

mc's gender is not mentioned, not proof read

content warnings: mc has certain personality traits like enjoying warm weather, mc wears nail polish, hand holding

-----

Summer was ending, any warm day could be the last before you'd have to wait some long months before the weather is sunny and warm again. Before you went to bed, Asmo sent you a screenshot of today's weather forecast. Your relationship has come to the point where he could literally send you a screenshot of the weather app saying 'high chance of sun and warm temperatures' and you'd know what it meant: you're skipping the RAD lectures tomorrow, you're going to spend the potential last day of summer outside. Lucifer can get mad later.

The day was supposed to be a perfect end to a good summer. You and Asmo, dressed in light clothing, were going to spend the day outside at the mall in open air and the beach. When you two left the house, the weather was already nice and warm. Not a single cloud in the sky and a pleasant breeze in the air. To get to the mall though, you'd have to take the subway. Of course Asmo suggested you'd get fancy drinks at the coffee place to take with you on the ride. Everything was so perfect: the subway was quiet, the weather was amazing, the drinks were good, your outfits look perfect and none of you had recieved any angry texts or calls from Lucifer demanding to know where you are. Little did you know there would be a nice surprise waiting for you after getting off the subway.

'This is a joke.' Asmo said as he stared at the sky with wide eyes from surprise. 'It's cold too.' you added, regretting not taking an 'emergency jacket' with you. Somehow, while you were on the subway, the sun had evaporated, there wasn't a single speck of blue to be seen in the sky and there's cold, pretty strong wind, great weather for the beach. 'Let's look on the positive side, we now have an excuse to buy matching sweaters.' the lust demon suggested. You let out a little laugh before thinking about what to do, maybe you should just make the best of it.

You and Asmo just ate something at the mall before returning home after an hour of being there. And guess how the weather was when you got off the subway again? It was literally back to how it was before. What a joke. To enjoy the sun anyways, you and Asmo just decided to take a walk instead.

'Hey, Mc?' you turned your head to look at the demon next to you. He smiled at you and held out his hand, asking you to take it. How could you refuse when he was looking at you like that? Asmo held your hand contently and tightly while walking with you. Eventually he started speaking again. 'You know, I'm really glad we met.' He gave your hand a little squeeze. 'I don't know where I'd be or what I'd be doing if I didn't have my favorite human here.' You glanced over at him before focusing your eyes on your hand clutched in his and smiled. 'Yeah, I'm glad we met too.' Maybe knowing that summer's ending is making you feel a little extra sentimental right now, or maybe it's Asmo but you're feeling something you can't quite describe. It's like a genuine caring for someone, and you're pretty sure the avatar of lust is feeling it too.

'Oh, Mc your nail polish is chipping... I'm gonna have to redo them when we get home, okay?'

[twistedroseytoesy]

Types of weather they are

no good reason to make this. Just wanted to share what weather I associate with what twst characters. Started this at like midnight so honestly no idea where this came from.

Heartslabyul

Riddle: he gives the vibes of a distant thunderstorm. The dark grey Floyd’s coming closer with streaks of beautiful light brightening them for a few seconds. Scary, but beautiful form a distance.

trey: a nice spring day. Just after it has rained. The air is fresh and clean, and the flowers are dripping with sweet raindrops and nectar. The bright sunshine through the parting clouds.

cater: a warm summer day with clouds. The brilliant almost burning sunshine with a few large clouds to give relief for moments of fun. Warm and sometimes blinding but worth it.

ace: a windy, sunny day. Some like it, others don’t. Can be annoying when trying to walk against it and the wind likes to knock your hat off at times. Then again it’s wonderful to play in and fly a kite, being carefree as the wind blows your problems away for a bit.

Deuce: summer wind. A type of wind that can carry a sense of adventure, a type of wind that calls you to go out and do something! The type of wind that rolls along beaches in reckless abandon or gently ruffles one’s hair. A type of wind that can become violent and tear out trees, or help cool you down on a blazing day.

Savanaclaw

Leona: a dust devil. A raging pillar of wind and dust, sand or dirt. Usually alone and far from others if there is multiple. Something that can cause damage but usually is in a space where nothing will get hurt. A powerful force of wind, moving in a lazy track along a field or open space. The potential is there it just doesn’t do much usually.

Ruggie: playful spring wind. A type of wind that caries warmth with it. The smell of busy bugs and nature. The type of wind to swirl around buildings, creating swirling spots of trash and dust, sometimes carrying pollen to cover everything in its path. A playful wind that comes and goes as it pleases. Sometimes strong to give a push but usually just passing by.

jack: fall cloud cover. The type that you welcome on those evenings. The smell of winter on the horizon as the cold starts to come in. When the cloud cover comes it’s steady and strong for days, never raining, yet still provides enough light for the days. A blanket of warmth protecting your little spot until it moves on. Gentle and comforting, yet dark and gloomy to those unfamiliar with what it provides.

Octavinelle

Azul: snow flurries. Something so seemingly soft and sweet. Gentle snow and beautiful snowflakes. Easy to walk in and around with. Loved and adored around the holidays. Yet a flurrie can become harsh, with winds suddenly spurring and the soft snow fall now cutting and stinging one’s skin. Having to hide away from the sudden turn and conditions. Same with azul. He’s a gentlemen when respected but once crossed or once you break a contract that’s when things turn for the worst.

jade: blizzard cold and harsh, deadly to those unprepared or stranded in its grasp. Leaving behind a beautiful landscape of snow in its wake. Harsh winds and heavy snow cover everything in sight. Blinding yet necessary for the winter months. Helpful to cover and blanket the world in winter, but dangerous and beautiful. Does it’s own thing and nothing can stop it.

Floyd: a fucking water spout. Can appear near instantly over the turbulent sea. A roaring jet of a tornado over the water, dragging and throwing anything that gets too close. Powerful but rare near the shores. Beautiful in its chaotic nature, but short lived like Floyd’s mood swings.

Scarabia

Kalim: A spring time rainbow. This bundle of joy at NRC glows bright even when things look a bit down. Bringing smiles to others faces is what he thrives for and what better to do that than a rainbow right after it has rained. The sunlight shining off the glittering raindrops and refracting into beautiful colors.

Jamil: gentle fall rain. A type of rain that is hypnotic in how it falls so gently. Dulling the colors of fall for a spell. Lulling you to come out and join the falling water, to splash in the small puddles as the rain gently falls. The cold only seeps in one out of its gentle hold. Suddenly feeling frozen and stiff. Interesting in the moment but be wary of what might happen.

Pomefiore

Vil: moonbow. Not necessarily a type of weather but a beautiful and ethereal type of sky light phenomenon that seemed very fitting for his beauty. A rare glow of a full moon of off just enough water to create a faint rainbow, awing any who are able to see it on those clear nights.

Rook: fall wind. A type of wind that carry’s a chill of winter. That sheds the leaves off of trees as colors change. A wind that treads carefully along the wooded areas, rustling the very leaves it helps fall. A type of wind that follows but never pushes. Observes the world and flows through the forests to tell the tales of the time before it grew colder. Enhancing beauty at times and softly flowing around homes.

Epel: southern rain spurts. Being a southern speakin boy a common southern weather condition seemed fitting. His bursts of anger showering down on those who thought he was cute. Drenching those not prepared for the 5 minutes of buckets he’ll dump on them.

Ignihyde

Idia: heavy morning fog. A type of fog that is heavy, dulling the senses and enhancing fear and anxiety’s. A fog that makes one feel heavy and lethargic. It’s easier to stay inside when you can’t even see the world past 5 feet in-front of you.

ortho: winter sunshine. A bright and bubbly kind soul among the cold atmosphere of NRC. Blinding at times when one isn’t prepared for the glare off of the snow. But the glittering of the snow and the rays that shine through the snowy treetops. Makes one smile and want to watch the cold outside from the safety inside. Maybe go sledding with friends as the sun shines it’s dazzling cool rays on the frozen earth.

Diasomnia

Malleus: day lightening. A very rare and dangerous phenomenon. Yet when one is able to see it, it is beyond awe inspiring. The flash of light from seemingly nowhere is magical and bright. Making many afraid of its power. But to those who don’t fear it, will find so much beauty in how brightly it will shine despite the sun out and making other lights seem lesser. Even if it’s just once, it’s still enough to dazzle any.

lilia: a light lightening storm at night. Beautiful and bizarre. Flashing lightning across the pitch sky. The rain falling gently to a melody of the world and lightning casting crazy shadow that can scare or fascinate. For those who are up they can enjoy the storm from a roofed gazebo, feeling the ancient calm of a storm from a safe space.

silver: aurora borealis. Had to do it. This phenomenon happens often in the poles of the world. Only seen when the nights are open and cold. Beautiful swirling colors like that of a dream. Lulling you, caking you to join them in blissful floating among the sky. To dream of their vibrant colors and to swim in them in the sky of your dreams. A calming sky light for a calming and sleepy man.

Sebek: summer thunder storm. All bark not much bite. You’ll see streaks of light and hear the thunder but no lightning will show itself out of the clouds. Very loud but interesting weather.

Staff

Crowley: tornado. This man is a complete disaster waiting to happen. Causing chaos in his wake and laving others to pick up the mess. Very few times he actually is helpful to those he demands asks graciously for assistance. Causes havoc and mayhem at the best of times. Looks cool at least.

Crewel: light morning fog. A type of fog that seemed so heavy and thick it will never go away. But with patience and time it will evaporate to reveal a few covered wonderland. Gentle droplets covering every surface causing a crystal like shine from everything on those beautiful mornings. With patience and obedience, you can do great things and he knows that many have that potential. He rewards and punishes as he sees fit.

Trein: summer cloud cover. Biggest kill joy to any summer day. It can be nice to not be roasted by the sun. But for many the cloud cover threatens rain and ruins many outdoor plans of fun.

Vargas: wind storm. Strong gusts pushing one around, pushing those going with it to go faster and pulling those who go against it. A strong and dangerous weather type for a strong yet unstable dangerous coach. Pushing those in his class to just keep going no matter what.

Sam: night rain. Dark puddles of unknown depth, covered lights that require protection against the creeping darkness and limited sight. A rain that can be comforting or hostile. Kind or mean, a type of rain that can pick anyone up, wash away their cares for a moment. Gentle and alluring, but be wary of what the rain will bring.

Grim: fire tornado/ fire devil. Arson cat. Only happens when there is already a fire. He just makes situations worse most of the time. Causes chaos and is dangerous in most cases. Better hope you’ve got some good fire fighters/ yuu to calm him down.

[bookwyrminspiration]

ok i think i got it out of my system enough to respond to the previous message!!! i just love books i love stories i love READING i have missed it so much. i hope your mom enjoys if you're able to make the muffins!!! and i'm glad you got down safe, unpredictable weather is unfamiliar to me--it is more just a one note song generally until winter and then the weather is just (opening my hands dramatically) wind haha.

and hey i would be so down to watch arcane together with you but i do not have netflix so it would probably all be more difficult than it should be... if you mean it though we can always schedule it for a date & time and watch things very slightly out of sync and talk through discord or something!

hilariously i think those are the exact reasons i love acrylics so much--and they were the most accessible and easy to learn for me when i was younger so i'm very familiar with them, too. i really enjoy being able to feel the things i make and so i love how thick acrylics are, but also FULL RESPECT for watercolor bitches. i do not have the patience to be one outside of class but i love watercolor art it is so cool. and re: stretched canvases i ended up using the square one and made this! but i've got to ask a friend because i know THEY stretch their own canvases and i would like to see if they have tips because. help. how do you do that.

You get me, i love stories I love reading I love when a book reminds me exactly why I love it so much. Because sometimes you go through slumps and you don't feel that connection, like a drought, and when the rain comes its such bliss. A Chorus of Dragons did that for me, I missed the feeling of anticipation and analysis it brought out in me.

I hope she does as well! I might try to make the muffins mini, as I think with how rich they sound like they'll be that'll be better. And it's so interesting to hear about weather other places. Here we have a base of generally dry and warm, with only brief interruptions to that. Today it rained for like half an hour this afternoon and then went back to pleasantly sunny, if overcast. And yesterday it went from legit thunder and lightning to completely clear in 40 minutes as if it'd never been here. it's amazing to me that there are places where when it rains it's just. Raining all day.

And I would also genuinely be down to watch arcane with you, however we work that out. Whether watching slightly out of sync or if we could screen share over discord or something. Whatever it is, I'd be interested!

Kudos to you on the acrylic thing--I can understand what it is people like, they just happen to not be things I like, unfortunately. I've used them a few times before but it's just not my preference. I don't like that my sketch disappears beneath it, I like having the reference. But the people who can use acrylic? Phenomenal, exquisite, I'm in awe. Idk how you do it but I'm saluting you. FULL RESPECT to acrylic bitches. And that is a lovely piece! I can definitely tell it's yours; you have a very distinct style, but I don't know if I can explain it. It's the shapes and the colors, they're very consistent and I can almost always identify something as yours on my dash--though once or twice a piece slipped by

I wish you many successes in figuring out the stretching canvas thing! I respect the...control? That it gives you over your art. Like that's another aspect that is now made to your specifications, and now there's something of you in the canvas. So the piece is even more representative, which is super cool!

[thotsonthebible]

Wolves Among the Sheep

Acts 20.29-30 (ESV)

I know that after my departure fierce wolves will come in among you, not sparing the flock, and from among your own selves will arise men speaking twisted things, to draw away the disciples after them.

Our family includes a very large and opinionated cat named Squirt.  He was part of a feral group, but when I went into the back yard to shoo away the sire, one little guy disobeyed his mama's order to hide and, instead, stopped, turned toward me, and raised his nose to catch my scent.  I reached down and picked him up.  That was  fourteen years ago, and he's been with us ever since.

Why am I writing about a cat in what is supposed to be a Bible study? Because a lot of Christians are just like that cat.  Like most cats, Squirt loves sunshine and begs to be allowed outside on the back porch, where he can bask in the warm sun.  However, when the temperature drops to freezing and the wind off the mountain picks up, I tell him, 'No.  It's too cold.'

But the allure of the sunshine is just too hard to resist, so he goes to a south-facing window and stretches out on the sunny windowsill, where he naps in the warm sun.  He emerges from behind the drapes toasty warm, and he simply can't understand why I've insisted that it's cold outside.

A lot of Christians are just like that cat.  They go to a church service on Sunday morning, and if they come out feeling warm and fuzzy, they assume everything is just fine.  They don't bother to read the Bible to see whether what they've been told agrees with Scripture.

The Church has been under attack from its inception.  Lately, the attacks have grown much worse, for we are entering the last days of this age, and Satan knows that his time is short.

We have always had false teachers among us.  Even so, it grieves me to discover that some of the teachers whom I admired when I first came to the faith have been seduced by the world, have been lured away from the true faith, and are now preaching heresy.  I weep for them and I weep for those who have blindly followed them down that wide, easy road that leads to destruction.

I would not have believed the heresy they are teaching, had I not heard it with my own ears.

Our Lord warned us:

'Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it.  For the gate is small and the way is narrow that leads to life, and there are few who find it.'  – Matthew 7.13-14

He immediately followed that with a warning:

'Beware of the false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly are ravenous wolves.  You will know them by their fruits.  Grapes are not gathered from thorn bushes nor figs from thistles, are they?'  – Matthew 7.15-16

Do not follow blindly those who present themselves as preachers and teachers, though they may lead a congregation of thousands, for the world has invaded the Church, and many of its leaders have been seduced by money and fame.

I advise you once again to emulate the Bereans:

… they received the word with great eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see  whether these things were so.  – Acts 17.11

No matter how sweet the words sound to you, or how much the teachings tickle your ears, you must search the Word of God to see whether the things you are hearing are really true—or if they're only clever lies to lead you astray.

And now I commend you to God and to the word of His grace, which is able to build you up and to give you the inheritance among all those who are sanctified.  – Acts 20.32

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Unless otherwise noted, all Scriptures are from the NASB.