#i wonder if it has like a nest or something under my balcony

[emirrea]

I thought it was a good idea to go outside to study bc no distractions but there's a BUNNY and i've been here for 30+ minutes now and done no studying bc THERE'S A BUNNY

[seakicker]

☆ My Next-Door Neighbor is an Annoying Older Woman Who Constantly Bothers Me

☆ between: college au!scaramouche x milf!reader

☆ synopsis: scaramouche insists he doesn’t want to fuck the milf living next door, but all his friends think he doth protest too much.

☆ word count: 10.5K words

☆ a/n: like with my venti x milf!reader fic over on ao3, this is supposed to give a sort of doujinshi vibe, hence the embarrassing title and the lunacy of some ideas like milf!reader going outside in a super sheer shirt. hopefully you feel the doujinshi vibe i was going for as i have a lot of fun trying to replicate the style, themes, and flow of doujinshis using only text!

☆ contents: fem + plus-sized reader (reader is explicitly described as chubby, busty, and taller than scaramouche), age gap obviously; scaramouche is a senior in college and reader is in her early 40s, degradation, a couple insults (such as scaramouche calling you a hag/loose/etc.), degradation, exhibitionism (scaramouche fucks you in front of a glass sliding door), sexual frustration, and unprotected sex + scaramouche pulls out

also posted to ao3 with the same title and under the same username!

Scaramouche has a problem.

Well, a problem slightly more irritating than the approximately nine hundred other problems he deals with on a daily basis. These issues include, but are not limited to, the consistent problems he has with the hot water heater in his apartment, his obnoxious group project teammate Ajax who insisted upon being the group’s leader despite his complete and utter lack of intellect, his annoying circle of friends that always seem to find ways to poke their noses into Scaramouche’s business, his frustratingly-dull history professor that always goes off on tangents completely unrelated to the class’ subject matter… and so on and so forth. It’s one issue after another; there’s always something when it comes to Scaramouche.

A matter more pressing than all of those other nine hundred issues put together, however, comes in the form of his next-door neighbor— you.

You’re a divorced woman in your early forties who lives by herself, works during the daytime while Scaramouche is on campus, and always seems to leave and return home at the same times he does. He moved in next door to you a few months ago at the start of his junior year, but you’ve never really gotten the chance to get to know him beyond the curt responses he gives you when you ask how he’s doing or what he did over the weekend. His coldness towards you doesn’t make too much sense— have you somehow offended him without knowing? You like to consider yourself a good neighbor: you don’t party (like a woman your age would ever do such a thing), you don’t blast loud music long into the night (or at all), you take good care of your things and avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche or your other neighbors, and you’re very, very tidy. When you’re in the mood to brag a little, you’ll say that you have the nicest balcony in the entire apartment complex.

…Avoid causing trouble for Scaramouche, huh? He’d beg to differ.

If Scaramouche has nine hundred problems in his life, then maybe it’d be more accurate to claim that you’re the cause of at least seven hundred of those problems rather than claiming that you’re one single, self-contained issue separate from all of those other problems. Maybe it’s the way you insist upon butting your way into his life and, in what must be your way of expressing it, “taking care” of him that irritates him more than anything else. Really, if he had to sum up your advances in one word, he’d have to go with aggravating.

At first, he bitterly wondered if you’re just some senile old hag using him as a replacement for your son, who’s surely moved out by now given your age. All you are is a woman looking to cure her empty nest syndrome by doting on someone her son’s age according to Scaramouche— he viewed your kindness as underhanded and delusional because he can take care of himself, you know. He’s an adult man living on his own; he knows how to navigate the trials and tribulations of young adulthood without some old lady insisting upon knocking on his door and gifting him home-cooked meals, bringing up his mail from the first-floor mailroom, or helping him with chores where you can. It’s not like Scaramouche would ever let you into his apartment, but that hasn’t stopped you from finding ways to help outside by sweeping outside his front door or washing the outside of his front window while he’s not home.

Okay, maybe it’s a little creepy to wash your neighbor’s windows without him asking you to help out, but it’s not like he’s going to do it. You would know— you had once waited a week to see if he’d clean up a spilled drink stain on the walkway in front of his door. As you expected, he never got around to it, so you happily cleaned it up on his behalf. Cleaning up for him doesn’t really put you out of your way either— whenever you sweep his doorway, it’s because you were already outside tidying up in front of your place; why not help out your neighbor in the process?

When you bring him meals you prepared yourself, it’s out of the goodness of your heart and because you can’t help but worry about a college boy’s diet— fast food, pizza, frozen microwave meals, and instant ramen don’t have all the nutrients a hardworking man needs. When you bring him his mail, it’s because he has a tendency to forget about it until his mailbox is, quite literally, overflowing. Whereas you check your mailbox every single day, Scaramouche seems to forget about his until the end of the week, which is certainly no way to live— what if he misses an important bill or notice? As a result, you took it upon yourself to check his mailbox for him whenever you go to retrieve your own mail.

Again, maybe it’s a little creepy to gather your neighbor’s mail, but it’s not like you’re hurting anyone, right? You certainly don’t root through his mail or open any of it. Even though Scaramouche rolls his eyes and mumbles a halfhearted little “thanks” every time you hand him his mail, he doesn’t really seem to mind. Despite his initial reluctance to accept any of it, he still eats the food you prepare for him if the empty containers he returns to you a few days later are any indication of that fact. You figure maybe he’s just a little shy or tired from his long day on campus— it does your heart well to know that he’s working so very hard.

On the flip side of things, Scaramouche considers your… activities a total inconvenience. He’ll admit that your meals taste very good— though he’d never say it to your face— but he doesn’t like feeling indebted to you or thinking that he owes you something even though you’ve told him multiple times that your favors don’t need any payback. You’re just happy to cook for someone other than yourself, you had told him once, confirming Scaramouche’s suspicion that you live alone. It’s not his fault you’re bored enough to make food for someone you barely know, so do you have to rope him into your wiles? He already has groceries and though he doesn’t really know how to cook, what’s wrong with having a bowl of cereal for dinner? It’s none of your business, is it?

Between your constant insistence on involving yourself in his life and the fact that he’s never seen anyone else leaving or entering your apartment, Scaramouche was able to correctly guess that you live alone… a realization that can’t help but annoy him. He figures that if you had someone, anyone else in your life like a spouse or another child living with you, you’d stop pestering him and stick to involving yourself in the lives of your family instead of your neighbor.

Would a pet do? Should he find some stray kitten and leave it on your doorstep? Is that what it’d take to make you mind your own business?

“Hey, Kuni, tell me about your little neighbor lady again,” Venti coos, accidentally knocking over his—thankfully— empty beer bottle when he leans forward to grab his phone. He’s drunk, but that barely makes a difference; he’d still make this request sober.

Glowering around the mouth of his own bottle, Scaramouche rolls his eyes in Venti’s general direction. “Why? If you want to know that hag so badly, go talk to her yourself.”

Venti busts out laughing, an action that his drunken body clearly can’t handle seeing as he falls sideways into Aether’s shoulder, making the latter grimace in response. Venti’s already a handful sober, but when he drinks… it takes the entire friend group to get him home and/or in bed safely. “Don’t threaten me with that, ‘cuz I really will do it— I’ll go steal your hot older girlfriend.”

Glaring up at him from his spot on the rug, Scaramouche has half a mind to shove that empty beer bottle into Venti’s eye for suggesting such a thing. Hey, wait a minute— why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor when this is his damn apartment?

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend,” he barks, turning to direct his glare at Kazuha too when he hears him chuckle.

“The more you deny it, the less convincing you are— you talk about her all the time, so I’m inclined to believe you really are dating,” Venti chirps, reaching for a bottle of beer that is most certainly not his.

“That’s mine,” Aether protests, watching as Venti takes a sip from his bottle anyways.

“Oops, my bad.” He doesn’t sound sincere.

“Well… get me another whenever you stand up.”

Venti waves his hand dismissively before redirecting his attention back to the more important matter at hand— Scaramouche’s complete and utter inability to just admit that he has the hots for his hot MILF of a neighbor and that any protest otherwise is a feeble attempt at hiding the truth.

“They say you’re attracted to things that make you mad,” Venti says. “…Cuteness aggression. Yeah. I saw a video about it once.”

“That’s not what cuteness aggression is, and ‘they’ say that you attract the things you fear,” Kazuha corrects him from his spot in the nearby armchair— again, why is Scaramouche the one sitting on the floor?— before he goes to take another hit off his blunt.

Venti repeats what Kazuha said in a nasally voice in an attempt to mock him, but the gesture only makes Kazuha chuckle again. It’ll be hard to draw any response more eloquent than a single laugh or a sigh out of him for the rest of the night— it’s a very, very stark difference from how he usually is.

“Why the fuck do I ever invite any of you over here?” Scaramouche sighs, taking a long swig from his own bottle. He doesn’t even really like the taste; it’s something Venti found on sale and decided to bring over, but Scaramouche has decided it’s better than spending his Friday night sober. Besides, it’ll take at least four more of these to deal with the impending conversation that he’s been trying so hard to pivot away from since Venti first brought it up.

“Because we’re best friends forever, next question. Why do you deny how much you wanna fuck your sexy neighbor, Kuni?” Venti asks again, pouting when Aether snatches the bottle Venti stole from him. “It’s super obvious. Xiao and Heizou agree with me, and I’m not just saying that because they’re not here tonight and can’t contest me on it. It’s true.”

Kazuha nods, and Aether simply shrugs. Christ alive, do they all think the same thing?

“And why on Earth do I— in theory— want to fuck her? She’s probably loose or something,” Scaramouche argues.

Venti busts out laughing again.

“It’s the opposite, really,” he starts, glancing between Aether and Kazuha when neither of them laugh along with him. “What, have you guys seriously never been with an older lady? They’re the best; the reason I know Kuni wants to get with that lady next door is because I got with the lady next door to me a couple months ago. It takes one to know one, or something. Trust me, Kuni, I know what you’re going through and we are seriously gonna get through this together.” Why is he making it sound like a relative died or something?

“They’re experienced,” Venti sighs longingly, blindly reaching out again for the bottle Aether’s holding, who moves it further away and out of Venti’s reach. “They feel really, really good. They actually know what they’re doing… sometimes the girls—and guys, mind you, I’ve gotten with plenty of both— our age clearly don’t know they’re supposed to be doing, but getting with somebody’s mom…”

“You’re gross!” Aether gasps, though his pink cheeks tell a different story.

“Not as gross as the guy who’s told us the same story about seeing his neighbor lady braless like four times now,” Venti replies, glancing over at Scaramouche with a grin. “Really left an impression on you, huh, Kuni?”

Just like that, Scaramouche finds himself instantly reminded of, well, the time he saw you braless first thing in the morning. A few months ago on some random Saturday morning, Scaramouche was out smoking a cigarette on his porch when you stepped outside to water the plants you keep on your balcony. There were so many of them: a small tomato plant, a pot overflowing with basil that you took to trimming after you finished watering everything, a couple of hanging baskets field with flowers, and a few other vegetable plants and potted succulents. More glaringly obvious than the abundance of plants occupying your balcony was your complete and utter shamelessness— even a quick glance in your direction was enough to draw Scaramouche’s attention to the distractingly sheer fabric of your white camisole.

It’s not like Scaramouche was actively staring at your tits— really, he wasn’t, he swears— because anyone would notice something that egregious. The low, low sweep of your camisole around your ample bust, your nipples beading up against the thin fabric, the constant fucking movement of the top as you shifted and bent over to water the plants sitting on the ground, moved, and walked, all of it. He complained to his friends about your complete and utter shamelessness— What kind of woman steps outside practically naked? he spat, much to the amusement of Venti, who had said that wearing a thin shirt does not, in fact, make one naked.

Worst of all, you had actually fucking caught Scaramouche staring, an action that made you grin wickedly and run your hands down the sides of your soft, plump body as if to try and draw his eyes down along with your hands. Instead, Scaramouche had only whipped his head to the other side, busying himself with tapping the ash off his cigarette as if it were the most important task he’d ever complete in his life. Jesus Christ, he was only staring because he couldn’t believe you’d be so shameless as to wear something like that outside, not because he was genuinely aroused by how low your camisole sat on your chest, how big your tits are, how soft they look…

He thinks he shuddered then, and he insisted to his friends that it was because of a sudden chilly breeze and absolutely nothing more. It was either that or because he was just so shocked by your display that a shiver went down his spine— he can’t even remember the exact reason he gave anymore.

Either way, none of them really believed him.

“Ah, he seems distracted,” Kazuha notes simply, raising a hand to point at Scaramouche before grinning. His words pull Scaramouche from his little daydream, and he groans at the realization that, yes, he spaced out remembering yet another instance of your abhorrent shamelessness and perversion.

“Spaced out thinking about cute MILF boobs, I get it,” Venti affirms, nodding. “Nobody gets that more than me. Not only that, but you’ve also, uh, ‘complained’ to us about seeing her in her swimsuit. Really, Kuni, it’s like you’re biding your time and waiting for her to take her clothes off so you can tell us about it.”

…That’s a story for another time. Scaramouche has had enough of thinking about you for one day; it’s bad enough that you brought him his mail today just mere moments before Venti, Kazuha, and Aether arrived to hang out— what if they saw you?— but to be reminded of the image of your tits underneath that pathetic excuse for a top…

He shakes his head and takes a long, long sip from his bottle.

“And they’re so soft, Kuni,” Venti says, slumping over further into Aether for support. “They feel like absolutely nothing else. I feel like firmness or perkiness or whatever is really, really overrated— the softness of a cute MILF’s boobs is unrivaled!”

“Can you not say things like that right into my ear?” Aether mumbles bashfully, making Venti laugh.

“Why? Am I gonna put the mental image of MILF boobs in your brain, too? Are we gonna become an entire friend group full of MILF chasers? That’d be hilarous. I already know about Xiao’s little crush on his English professor.”

Jesus, Scaramouche has got to steer this conversation somewhere else or he’ll go mad. “Anyways,” he beings, “Where is that pizza you ordered ages ago?”

“I thought Kazuha was taking care of it,” Aether remarks, glancing over at him. Kazuha goes to reply, but nothing comes out— yep, he’s gone for the night. He won’t be able to get out any more than four words max until morning.

As if the universe heard their request, the doorbell rings to signify the arrival of dinner. Before Scaramouche can go to pull himself up off the floor—he really should make Venti move; it’s his couch in his apartment— Venti’s already in the process of skipping towards the door. Aether takes the opportunity to kick his feet up over the other couch cushion, making Scaramouche wonder if the three of them formed some secret pact to ensure that he stays on the floor the entire evening.

However, what stands on the other side of the door is not, in fact, the pizza delivery boy. It’s you, aluminum foil-covered glass casserole dish in hand, leading Scaramouche to believe that while the universe did hear their request for food, the devil answered by sending you to his doorstep while he has three of his friends over.

“Oh! You’re not the pizza guy,” Venti beams, putting on his best ‘polite’ voice possible. Scaramouche groans and looks over towards his other two friends just so he doesn’t accidentally make eye contact with you, but neither Aether nor Kazuha look back at him. They’re looking at you.

Christ, he’ll never live this down. Not only do they know who you are, they now know what you look like.

“I’m not,” you giggle. “I live next door; I bring food to Scaramouche sometimes whenever I get a little too excited in the kitchen and make too much. I can’t eat the leftovers fast enough before they go bad, and I would hate to waste food, you know?”

“You can call him Kuni,” Venti offers. “We all do. It’s less of a mouthful, don’t you think?”

Scaramouche decides that Venti will be leaving his apartment in a body bag tonight.

His cheeks burn with equal parts humiliation and anger, and the realization that his friends’ teasing is only about to get worse now that they know who you are and what you look like more than motivates Scaramouche to devise a plot to kill the three of them.

After introducing yourself to Venti, he smiles and replies that “the pleasure is all his” when you tell him it’s nice to meet some of Scaramouche’s friends. Venti has half a mind to invite you inside for a moment, but he decides that’d be unnecessary— he figures he’s already done more than enough to inspire Scaramouche into action. If Scaramouche won’t act on his feelings himself, then maybe a little shove from his friends will help him along.

“That’s sweet of you!” Venti praises, taking the dish from your hands. “I’m glad Kuni’s eating properly these days. One time, he told us that the only thing he survived off of during finals week was a sleeve of Saltines and some peanut butter. You’re so kind, miss.”

You giggle sheepishly, a sound that Scaramouche would like to claim grates his ears. Miss? Can’t Venti see that you’re, well, old? “Well, I’m glad that he has such kind friends to support him. You all take care, okay? You too, Scara— Kuni!” You call out past Venti’s shoulder, making both Aether and Kazuha chuckle.

After bidding farewell to the four in what has to be the most mortifying moment of Scaramouche’s entire life, you leave, allowing Venti to close the door behind you and make his way back to the others. “Those boobs are huge,” he sighs dreamily, looking up at the ceiling. “If I got suffocated between those, I would die a fully satisfied man.”

“Then go die,” Scaramouche mutters in agreement, cheeks still burning with humiliation. Why does the universe insist upon tormenting him so?

Eyeing the dish in Venti’s hands, Aether pipes up too “She cooks for you? Kuni, you have it so good.”

Scaramouche is amazed that, after all this time, his friends still find it in them to be jealous of him despite all of his attempts at framing you as annoying, invasive, and overbearing. Can’t they see that you’re doing this on purpose?! Scaramouche has half a mind to wonder if you’re psychic— what other explanation is there for your obnoxiously perfect timing? He asks about food and suddenly you appear on his doorstep, dish in hand as if you had heard him through the walls. There’s no way they’re that thin, are they?

Venti moves to set the dish down on the kitchen countertop before turning around to look Scaramouche square in the eye. “Kuni, I’m saying this because I respect you as my longtime friend,” he asserts, tone and gaze both deathly serious in a way that’s genuinely almost out of character for someone as flippant and carefree as Venti. “But you better fuck that lady the first chance you get because, if you don’t, I’m taking her for myself.” That should do it.

Scowling in response, Scaramouche crosses his arms over his chest and sighs bitterly. “Why would I stop you? I don’t care what you do with her. For the last fucking time, I’m not into her.” Despite his words, Scaramouche can’t deny that there’s something… unsettling about the idea of Venti getting with you. Does he really want to watch his friend take four A.M. booty calls in order to fuck the woman living right next door to him? Can Scaramouche truly stomach the idea of his friend fucking the brains out of someone just a few walls away from where he lives? It’s hard to put his finger on why, but something about Venti getting with Scaramouche’s neighbor, despite his insistence that there truly is nothing between the two of them, really, really irks him.

Well, it’s probably just because a lot of Venti’s behavior tends to irritate Scaramouche in the first place, right? Yeah, it’s probably just that. He doesn’t need to hear every last gritty detail of his friend’s sexual trysts.

That characteristically smug grin of his finds its way back to Venti’s face as he reaches over Aether’s shoulder and snatches his beer bottle again. “Fine, I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. How about we forget the pizza and eat what she brought over?”

“Oh, I see now,” Kazuha interjects after having been silent for the past twenty minutes. He turns his phone around to show Scaramouche, Venti, and Aether the check-out screen on the pizza chain’s website. “It seems I failed actually submit the order; it was still waiting for me to pay.”

Scaramouche doesn’t have a hangover the next morning, a blessing he owes to the fact that he only ended up drinking two beers last night. He probably would’ve consumed more if he had the chance to, but Venti blew through the rest of the box quicker than the other three could try to stop him. It took both Kazuha and Aether supporting Venti’s hardly-conscious body to get him down the stairs to the parking lot so they can drive him home— there’s no way Venti would be able to safely get himself home amidst such an awful hangover.

As he pokes through his apartment scooping up empty beer bottles and stained paper plates to toss into a trash bag, the glass casserole dish sitting out on the kitchen counter catches Scaramouche’s eye. Save for a few scraps shoved into the rounded corners of the pan, it’s practically been picked clean— the four boys tore through it easily with Venti, Kazuha, and Aether all fawning over just how good a home-cooked meal tastes after months of campus cafeteria food, fast food, and instant ramen. Venti mentioned that there’s just something about a MILF’s cooking that makes it so much better, leading to a conversation about how, in Venti’s educated opinion, older women just do everything better: sex, cooking, cleaning, caretaking, all of it.

Scaramouche scoffs at the memory. “She’s nothing special,” he mutters to himself, still failing to understand Venti’s obsession with somebody he’s never even met until last night. Scaramouche is the one who’s actually been living next door to her for months now— as his friends know by now, he has plenty more to say about her than Venti does.

Shouldn’t he be the one to comment on things like the size of your bust, the softness of your legs, the plumpness of your ass and belly, and the flavor of your cooking? He’s the one who’s actually seen you lounging in tiny string bikinis by the apartment complex’s pool, watering the plants out on your balcony in a pair of shorts that certainly break publicly decency laws, and retrieving your mail in a shirt so thin he can make out the little bumps of your nipples up against the fabric.

“Christ, what am I thinking?” Scaramouche stops himself and second-guesses whether or not he’s actually hungover. There’s no way his sober mind would drift to thoughts of you, right? Clearly something must be wrong with him— he blames Venti for putting all these thoughts in his head with his never-ending discussion of what makes older women so utterly sexy.

He’s then reminded of what Venti told him right before they all sat down to eat your cooking: that if Scaramouche won’t hurry up and fuck his neighbor, Venti will do it for him. Even now, the idea still bothers him for reasons he just can’t quite put his finger on— Venti’s been with tons and tons of people; why does he want Scaramouche’s neighbor too? Can’t Venti see how awkward that would be?

Setting the trash bag down on the floor, Scaramouche takes to the sink to wash out the casserole dish you brought over for them last night. His mind concocts disgustingly vivid images of you as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn piece of dried cheese, and maybe he’d be shocked by how little effort he’s putting into warding those thoughts away if he weren’t so utterly immersed in them. His mind conjures up the image of you in that tiny black bikini he saw you wearing by the pool while he was out smoking on his balcony— he remembers the little number being so small that you had to readjust it every single time you simply sat up or lied down because every last motion was enough to threaten a nipslip. It makes him wonder if you dress like that on purpose or because you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that clothes and swimsuits you used to wear still fit you despite clear evidence otherwise— are you actively vying for the attention of any man who’ll give it to you, or are you brainless enough to throw something on without caring about how poorly or not it fits?

It’s probably a mix of both; you’re just that shameless.

Scaramouche grits his teeth at the mental image of you straddling him while adorned in that tiny little bikini that seems to only get tinier and tinier the longer he allows his imagination to run wild. Of all the fucking things to imagine you doing…

He pictures what you’d look like with your thick, plump thighs enveloping either side of his hips as you run your hands up and down your ample chest and soft stomach. God, he can see it all now: the little bumps of your nipples beading up against the thin fabric of your swimsuit, the soft hang of your tummy spilling over the tiny, flimsy string keeping your bottoms secured around your wide hips, the way your tits would bounce as you ride him…

“Something’s wrong with me,” he grumbles, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. The clump of cheese he’d been scraping at finally separates from the pan, and he realizes that if he wants to rid you from his mind for good, he should take matters into his own hands before Venti does.

No, wait, this has nothing to do with Venti— this isn’t about staking claim over you before any of his friends can, this is solely about him finding ways to release the grip you have on him as if you’re some kind of wicked succubus. Scaramouche glances downwards after setting the dish aside to dry and, much to his chagrin, finds that the mere thought of you was enough to fucking get him hard. The eager press of his cock against the confines of his briefs moritifies him solely because of the very reason why he’s like this in the first place; how the fuck did the thought of you in a bikini so tiny your areolas peek around the sides reduce him to such a state? He’d like to believe that he’s only this hard because it’s been a while since he’s jerked off, but that would be an excuse less believable than any of the ones he’s ever given his friends.

He knows that he’s too dignified to jerk off to the thought of you— if he’s feeling horny, then surely he can find things more deserving of his attention than some hag next door. He refuses to give you that kind of satisfaction (despite the fact that you’d never even know unless he told you, so how could you be smug about it?), so he decides that an ice-cold shower is in order before venturing out to settle things with you.

After a shower so cold Scaramouche swears he saw his fingers begin to turn purple, he dries off, gets dressed in something other than the clothes he fell asleep in last night, grabs your clean casserole dish, and leaves to go to the one place he wouldn’t have ever imagined himself stepping foot in— your apartment. If this is what it takes to sever the connection between you and his mind…

God, this is going to be annoying, Scaramouche thinks as he knocks on your door using his foot, casserole dish supported safely by both of his hands. He feels the need to steel himself because he just knows you’ll answer the door in something sheer, skimpy, or some combination of the two and he needs to be ready for that.

Why? Are you hoping for that to happen, Kuni? Venti’s voice whispers from the back of Scaramouche’s mind.

He really is losing it.

“Good morning— oh, Kuni! This is a surprise,” you greet him upon opening the door, flashing him a smile so bright it nearly makes him cringe. Can you spare him the pleasantries so he can just get to the point?

Fucking Venti— why teach her that nickname? Turning his head to look at a faraway bird instead of you, Scaramouche scoffs. “I need to talk to you.” Straight to the point, emotionless, and rude, it’s all so in-character for your neighbor that you can’t help but giggle.

You grin wider. “Of course. Come in; I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

Scaramouche waits until you’re a good few steps ahead of him before following you inside, glancing around the living room of your apartment as he makes his way to the kitchen table. Your apartment’s clean, impeccably so at that— every book on your bookshelf faces the same direction, the blanket draped over the back of your couch doesn’t have a single crease, and he can’t see even an ounce of dust on any inch of your tables and countertops.

He snorts a little. Rather than viewing the cleanliness as impressive or inspiring, he bitterly interprets it as a testament to your overabundance of free time and lack of other hobbies or pastimes.

“I’m not sure how strong you like your coffee, so I’ll just make it how I normally do,” you pipe up from the kitchen, pulling Scaramouche away from scrutinizing the titles of the books on your shelf. Restless Summer Nights? The Devil’s Mistress? They all sound like bargain bin erotica novels.

It was a mistake to direct his attention away from your novels and to you instead, he figures, because only now does he get a look at what you’re wearing— if one could even call that clothing. You’re dressed in something he wants to call a workout outfit, but anyone leaving the house in an outfit like that surely has goals other than simply exercising— they want to attract attention. A sports bra that sits so low on your chest that a single bounce on an exercise ball would expose you combines with a pair of spandex leggings so tight they reveal the lines of your panties to comprise your “workout outfit,” and to say that Scaramouche is mortified would be an understatement. He can’t help but find the combination of your manner of dress and your collection of novels completely pathetic.

And despite his apparent disgust… he’s been staring at you long enough to pick up the most minute details about your outfit. The indifferent passerby likely wouldn’t notice your pantylines— a certain amount of staring is required to actually notice them; they’re really not obvious from a quick glance. Actually, why can’t he stop looking at you? He writes it off as a simple morbid curiosity at how someone can be so completely and utterly shameless— one could almost liken his sick, cynical fascination with your ample curves and soft body to rubbernecking.

Scaramouche instead stares down into the cup of coffee you’ve set in front of him like it’s the most fascinating object in the entire world. He’s half-inclined to just close his eyes entirely, seeing as the slightest glimpse of your bust still occupies the uppermost part of his peripheral eyesight when you sit down in the chair opposite of him.

“So,” you start, sliding a porcelain dish with a small bowl of sugar cubes and a saucer of creamer his way. “What can I help you with? It’s rare for you to talk to me first, Kuni.”

He adds “drop that nickname” to his mental list of topics to bring up with you. Scaramouche plucks a few sugar cubes from the bowl before him and drops them into his coffee before absentmindedly stirring the liquid with a serving spoon.

“Last night,” He clears his throat. “Why did you come over to talk to V— to my friends?” Why are you always in my business? he really wants to ask, but he feels like you’ll start crying if he presses you too firmly.

And that’d just be obnoxious.

You giggle. “That makes it sound like I came over on purpose because I knew you had people over, and that’s not true. Haven’t we been in the habit of food delivery and acceptance for months now?” Scaramouche’s eyes follow yours to the squeaky-clean casserole dish he placed on your counter.

“I’m glad your friends seemed to enjoy the food just as much as you do,” you add sweetly, pursing your lips and blowing on your coffee to help it cool down.

“It was humiliating,” Scaramouche counters, a statement that prompts you to look up from your coffee and make eye contact with him. “They wouldn’t— they wouldn’t stop fucking talking about you after you left.”

Wait, that’s not the point here, is it? Surely Scaramouche’s main complaint isn’t that Venti practically sweet-talked you right into his bed, it’s that Scaramouche is tired of you invading his business and his space, right? He doesn’t care about Venti’s comments about your soft tits or your wide hips, he doesn’t care about Aether’s bashful confession that he exclusively jerks off to older women, he doesn’t care that he has competition because there’s nothing to compete over and he’s really, actually, truly angry that you always find a way to worm your way into his days and his mind and his free time and his wet dreams and his—

“Oh, I’m flattered,” you reply simply, sipping your coffee and smiling around the rim of the cup. “They’re such nice boys. I’m glad you have such sweet friends, dear.”

What’s warmer: the tips of Scaramouche’s ears or his untouched cup of coffee?

“That’s not— what? That’s not the point I’m making and you know that,” he grimaces, clearing his throat again. “My friends shouldn’t have to put up with a shameless old hag the way I have to.”

You set your cup down. “That’s not very nice. I look good for my age— that charming boy down at the corner mart always asks for my ID whenever I pick up some wine!”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “That’s his job. Anyways, I’m telling you to mind your own business.”

“Oh, is that all? Of course I can do that for you.” Your reply comes without a single skipped beat.

“I mean it, that means don’t touch my mail and— what?” Wait, there’s no way you’re making this this easy. A shameless, conniving, lustful, lewd seductress of a woman like you agreeing to just… fuck off at the first request? Scaramouche doesn’t buy it— this is just another phase of your plan to throw him off guard and pull the rug out from under him so you can sink your claws deeper and deeper into him.

“I like cooking for you and cleaning for you, and I was very happy to meet your friends yesterday, but if you want me to stop, of course I will,” you explain. “I wonder who’ll help me eat my leftovers now… your friend from last night gave me his phone number; does he like potato soup? I’m making that tonight.”

Scaramouche almost, almost feels a shiver tear down his spine. He’s starting to believe that Venti’s just as much an antagonist in this situation as you are.

“Why the fuck did you accept his number? Delete it,” he grumbles, crossing his arms and glaring over at you. His coffee’s surely gone cold by now, but that’s alright— he was never much of a coffee drinker anyways.

You shrug, a sly smile forming on your lips. “Oh, I don’t know. He was so sweet I didn’t want to say no… it’d give me someone new to talk to, if nothing else.” Why do you need to talk to Venti when he barely knows you and I’m right fucking here?

“It’s not like you talk to me much despite all my best efforts, Kuni,” you offer him the subtlest of pouts, an action that would look out of place on the face of a woman your age if you weren’t so… if you weren’t so…

Forget it, he’s not saying anything about you that could be interpreted as a compliment. “…Especially now that you and I have agreed to leave each other alone.”

Oh, Scaramouche doesn’t like this feeling. He hates feeling like a situation has spun out of his control, and that’s, unfortunately, exactly what he feels is happening here. You’ve agreed to his terms and you’ve promised to stay out of his way, so why does he feel so… angry?

Yeah, you must have some underhanded motive here. Why else would you be making this so… easy? That’s not like you at all— he was expecting you to fan your eyelashes, pout your lips, push your tits forward, and whimper that you’re sorry and that you’d love to keep talking to him, so will he please give you a second chance?

I’ll do anything, he was sure you’d say.

You clear your throat. “Well, is there anything else you’d like to discuss now? If not, I’ll get back to my yoga. It’s good to be active, right?”

What the hell? You’re ending the conversation? No way, no how— this ends on Scaramouche’s terms, not yours. Who do you think you are?

“No, that’s not it, actually,” he blurts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Staying out of my business means staying away from Venti— from any of my friends. Don’t talk to them, don’t text them, don’t— I don’t know. Don’t be around them.”

You smile a little wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous, Kuni.”

He scoffs, staring you directly in the eye as if to challenge you. “Seriously? Shit joke.”

Of all the adjectives you could have picked to describe him… “It’s just that the thought of you getting with Venti is nauseating, alright?”

You hum. “And why him specifically, hm? You had other friends over last night— are they single?” Jesus Christ, what is this, an interrogation? And where the hell are these sorts of questions coming from— did you already send Venti an invitation to hook up?

Sneering so hard his nose scrunches up, Scaramouche can’t help but feel appalled. “Did you decide I’m not good enough or something? Who do you think you are?”

You go silent.

Scaramouche, somehow, goes even quieter than silent when the weight of his words finally sets in. There it is— the culmination of your grand plan to humiliate, embarrass, and utterly demean him in your own home. You had this outcome planned from the start, didn’t you?

“I didn’t say that,” you stammer, attempting to correct yourself. “Why do you think I’ve been vying for your attention all this time? Of course I like you, Kuni.”

God, how you piss him off. Who do you think you are— some bashful schoolgirl confessing to her first crush?

“I know that I’m just an old woman and that you could certainly find a cute, young, perky college girl whenever you’d like to, but if you’d ever like me…”

Of course Scaramouche could get someone his age from one of his classes— he doesn’t need to settle for some loose old hag— and yet… the thought of you getting with anyone else, Venti or not, pisses him off in a way he can’t quite describe. Maybe he views himself as some kind of hero protecting everyone else from your shamelessness, maybe he views himself as the only one worthy of your attention as the one who has to put up with you the most, maybe he views you as someone actually, genuinely worth being with…

He sits up a little straighter. “You have no idea how obnoxious you are,” he mutters. “Taking up my time and attention even when you’re not around.”

“What a forked tongue,” you reply, leaning forward and, much to Scaramouche’s chagrin, pushing your breasts together with your hands. “You know that’s why I like you, right? Mean boys have always been my favorite— ever since high school.”

“You’re not worth the time,” he spits. So fucking annoying. So fucking shameless. What kind of woman your age behaves this way, anyway? So obnoxious, so pathetic, so intoxicating, so impossible-to-keep-out-of-his-mind—

“Venti sure seems to think I am,” you offer with a smug, self-satisfied smile as you rise from your seat. Hooking your thumbs up under the straps of your sports bra, you quickly snap the elastic fabric back against your shoulders to give your tits a little bounce, an action that, of course, does not go unnoticed. Slapping his hands down flat against the perfectly-ironed lacy tablecloth covering your dining room table and standing up so quickly he nearly knocks his knees against the table’s hardwood underside, Scaramouche laughs.

What a time to finally, finally accept that he has the hots for his neighbor— the same neighbor who’s supposedly the cause of so many of his bad days and sour moods. You’ve prompted many a disdainful mutter from Scaramouche after catching a glimpse of you through your drawn curtains, you’ve been the subject of many a snide comment made in the presence of his friends, and, most frustratingly of all, you’ve inspired countless, countless inappropriate thoughts that he cannot believe you’ve been the subject of.

And all it took was one of his friends hitting on you for him to realize that.

“Constantly flaunting a body like this,” he chides in a way that he wants to come off as insulting and condescending rather than sadistically flattering, but the little grin you offer in response gives him reason to believe you interpreted it as the latter. Seriously?

“Other boys your age seem to enjoy the flaunting,” you counter, slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your spandex leggings. As if to tease the act of pulling them all the way down your legs, you flip the fabric of your waistband over its seam to expose the majority of your soft lower belly.

Anger burns hot behind his pale cheeks. “Is this some kind of pathetic hobby of yours? Fucking guys half your age?”

“I like to consider it a lifestyle,” you reply, shimmying your leggings further and further down your thick thighs until your thong’s completely exposed. A black lace thong— how becoming of a nymphomanic like yourself. “I’m fine with trading experience for virility and stamina; do you know how many men my age finish in thirty seconds and call it there because they’re ‘just so tired’? College boys either go until they can’t hold themselves upright or until they have nothing left to pump into me.”

There’s that vulgar nature that’s both irritated and (subconciously) aroused him for months. He wants to believe that your disgusting nature doesn’t make his cock twitch, but the time for pretending has clearly passed. You don’t believe he finds you ugly or unappealing and neither does he anymore.

“And do you find this… lifestyle fulfilling?” Scaramouche challenges, grimacing at the pressure building in the frontside of his tight jeans.

You laugh. “Is that your way of saying you don’t? Are you a virgin, sweetheart?”

“Of course not. Just because some of us don’t fuck everything with two legs and a pulse doesn’t mean we’re virgins.” His clumsy escapades are none of your business— his high school girlfriend and that guy from the concert Venti dragged him to over the summer don’t concern you.

Bending forward to push your leggings down to your knees, you gaze up at Scaramouche through your eyelashes and giggle. “Don’t make it sound like I don’t savor every last cock or strap I ride. You could put every last one of them in front of me and I’d be able to tell you who they belong to with my eyes shut.”

Venti mentioned something about experience, didn’t he? What a sanitized way of calling older women complete and total whores.

The inferiority complex in Scaramouche wants to prove that he’s the best thing a whore like you will ever experience, that he can make you feel better than any of the other bumbling college morons he probably knows can, and that you’ll give up your ways of fucking everyone that looks at you in order to devote yourself to him and him alone. That’d be some nice payback for all the pain and humiliation you’ve subjected him to these past couple of months, right?

No, he has a better idea.

“If you want to show yourself off that badly,” Scaramouche huffs, doing his damndest to ignore the nearly-painful throbbing in his jeans. “Then I’m sure you’d be fine with doing it in front of that glass door, right?”

With your hands still bunched in the fabric of your leggings, you look back at the glass sliding door that leads to your balcony and bite your lip. It’s not likely anyone would actually see you— you and Scaramouche live on the third floor— but it’s still a possibility and an exciting thought nonetheless. Maybe you could give that nice redheaded quarterback boy you fucked a few months ago a nice show; he lives just across the parking lot in the building parallel to yours.

“Now who’s the deviant one? I’ve never fucked anywhere more public than a nightclub’s bathroom stall,” you tease, finally pushing your leggings all the way down and off your legs. He doesn’t believe you, but Christ, those thighs of yours look soft…

You accept his offer nonetheless and make your way over to the balcony door, your thong riding high on your wide hips and your hardened nipples pressing into the flimsy fabric of your pathetic excuse of a sports bra. “You’re helping me wipe off all the fingerprints afterwards,” you scold, inviting him over with a wiggle of your hips and a glance back over your shoulder.

Now, rationally, Scaramouche would never propose the idea of fucking in a place as public as right in front of an apartment complex parking lot. He’s never considered himself an exhbitionist and he’s always been somewhat obsessed with his image, and people who care about their image generally don’t have sex in the potential presence of others. Additionally, there’s probably something to be said about him potentially getting caught fucking the same woman he’s spent the better half of this past year complaining about, but the current irrational, horny, angry Scaramouche wouldn’t listen to better judgement or rationality anyways.

The relief that comes with unbuttoning his jeans and giving his almost painfully-hard cock room to breathe is so euphoric he can’t help but sigh, the throbbing in his crotch more aggravating than any pounding headache he’s ever experienced after an evening drinking with his friends.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” he laughs, incredulous. “To think the hag living next door to me is the reason I’m like this.” Jamming the weight of his bulge into the plumpness of your soft ass, Scaramouche seizes hold of your hips in both of his hands and gives the fat of your love handles a painful squeeze just to hear you suck the air in through your teeth.

“I thought you’d never come around, you know,” you breathe, beyond eager at the prospect of finally, finally getting to fuck the neighbor boy you’ve been actively working at breaking for months upon months now. A guy this mean, this arrogant, and this demeaning doesn’t come around that often, especially when so many of the guys you get with take the polite route by calling you “ma’am” and complimenting you over and over again— which certainly isn’t a bad thing, but cruel has always satisfied you in ways that kind cannot.

The height difference between the two of you means that Scaramouche has to stand up a little straighter than he normally does in order to press his hips against yours, a realization that’s only slightly humiliating. Granted, it could never compare to how humiliating it was for you to show up at his apartment in front of all his friends.

God, does it feel good to put you in your place.

“Spread,” Scaramouche mutters, knocking one of his feet against both of your ankles. He doesn’t tell you that he needs you to spread your legs so your hips will lower a bit, allowing him to reach them a little more easily since you’re a bit taller than he is.

You would tease him for skipping the foreplay and just jamming himself right into you, but you know that you’ve been plenty wet enough ever since your discussion with him first wandered to sex and masturbation. Well, that, and if you had to wait another minute to get the cock you’ve been so desperate for for so long now, you very well may go crazy. It’s taken months, but you can already tell that it was all so, so worth it.

Running his knuckles down the center of your thong, Scaramouche relishes in the smug satisfaction that comes with realizing that you’re wet. It’s equal parts arousing and equal parts pathetic— just how desperate are you for any cock you can get your hands on?

“You’ve already kept me waiting for months,” you say with a pout cast back at him from over your shoulder. “Why make me wait even longer when I’m right here?”

“Shameless and impatient,” he remarks with a frustrated huff. “Can’t you do something good with your life or yourself for once and just be quiet?”

As tempting as it is to make a teasing quip in return to only further rile up your angsty neighbor boy, a frenzied giggle is the only sound you can muster up when you feel the firm press of a cock against your clothed pussy. Even through your flimsy thong, you can tell that he’s hard, which is a reward in its own right. It’s what you’ve wanted to achieve since the very first time he caught you half-naked watering plants on your balcony— is it so wrong for you to want to rile up the cutie next door?

Scaramouche roughly yanks your thong down to hang around your lower thighs, leaving you entirely on display for him when you follow suit by tugging your sports bra up to your collarbone. The cool, smooth glass against your bare tits is an unfamiliar sensation, but it’s certainly not an unwelcome one— especially when you remember that anyone could look up from across the parking lot and get an eyeful of your bare tits squished up against the glass door.

“I wish I could watch you sink it in for the first time,” you hum, reaching down between your legs to part the outer lips of your cunt for him a little wider. “In front of a mirror or something maybe. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re the spitting image of the romantic type.” There’s no way you consider him the romantic type, is there? He’s not going to hold your hands and whisper in your ear about how cute you are, you know.

Damn it, you’ve got him actually wanting you more than he’s ever wanted you before— this makes all his filthy fantasies about taking you bent over your kitchen counter or being underneath you while you ride him into oblivion look like a cheap, budget porno from a video rental store. His desire has always been real—albeit subconscious, sure—but it feels so much more genuine now that it’s been realized.

“Don’t say a word about this to anyone,” he mumbles in a brief moment of humiliation, biting into his bottom lip as he finally, finally sinks the full length of his cock into you.

Jesus Christ, if there’s anything Venti’s ever been right about, it’s how good a mature pussy feels. You’re soaked all the way down to your inner thighs, you’re so warm Scaramouche nearly feels his knees give out from underneath him, and you squeeze him so well he can feel your pussy gripping the sensitive underside of his tip.

“Why not? I can invite your friend next time,” you propose, squealing with delight when Scaramouche slaps a hand down against the side of your ass. “Venti, right? It’d feel so good to have my ass used while you—“

“Just shut up,” he hisses bitterly, glaring at you hard enough to give himself a stress headache. “Don’t talk about other guys right now. Especially not ones I know.”

“You’re right, it’s rude to talk about other men when I have such a good one right here with me already,” you feign sympathy, pushing your hips back flat against the front of his thighs. “Oh, Kuni.”

There’s that damn nickname again. As much as he hates the idea of you using it to tease him or fluster him, he can’t deny the way his dick twitches whenever you coo it in that soft, sultry tone of yours. It’s like you were custom-made to gobble men up or something— just how many of his classmates have you fucked?

Oh, it doesn’t matter. Not when he knows he can establish himself as the best of the whole damn lot of them. Not when he knows that he gets the privilege of seeing you every single day and nobody, nobody else does. Not when he’s seen your cute nipples peeking at him through that tiny, flimsy pajama top he caught you in all those months ago. Not when he gets to peruse on over to your apartment whenever he wants because you’re right fucking there and nobody, nobody is physically closer to you than he is.

Jesus, this is all starting to sound like some kind of crush.

“How’s that?” Scaramouche taunts, slapping his hips against you so wildly the sound of skin smacking on skin almost drowns out his voice. He’d like to claim that this sort of pace is supposed to be punishing, and he’d be right if he were to say that, but he wants it hard and rough just as much as you surely do. He couldn’t stop his hips even if he wanted to because he knows there’s nothing he’s wanted to do more than fuck your brains out for months upon months now.

You don’t answer him, too preoccupied with relishing in the feeling of his cock pounding into you with everything he’s got. How befitting of Scaramouche to fuck you like he’s angry at you— if he could even claim to be mad anymore. The combined sensations of his hips hammering against yours, his fingernails digging into your soft, plump love handles, and his balls slapping against your ass on each thrust are all far too overwhelming to even attempt a reply.

“Seriously? You run your mouth for ages and now you shut up when I ask you a question?” You’re doing this on purpose— Jesus, you’re insatiable.

Your back arches when Scaramouche digs the tip of his cock into a particularly sensitive spot inside of you, a broken whine leaving your lips instead when you attempt to reply with a dirty quip. He laughs when he realizes what’s just happened— that’s certainly one way to get you to shut that filthy mouth of yours.

“I hope somebody’s watching you, actually,” he admits despite all the jealousy even a single mention of his friend stirred up in him. “That way they can see you’re not worth their time because you don’t value yourself whatsoever. Why would anyone want someone who’s happy to just give themselves away like this and get fucked in a place so public?”

Maybe that’s just a weird, roundabout way of saying I want someone to watch me fuck you so they know a whore like you has been whipped into shape and that you only want me now. Who’s to say?

“You don’t care about getting caught yourself?” You finally pipe up with a grin.

Scaramouche snorts. “Getting caught with the likes of you? I’d transfer universities.”

You pout. “Would I still get to see you?”

For whatever reason, the question catches him off guard. How many times does he need to remind you that you’re not his girlfriend, that you’re not some sweetheart with an innocent crush, that you’re just his fucking neighbor who just so happens to have a hot body and just so happens to feel so, so good around him like this and just so happens to be the subject of his wet dreams and fantasies and—

He’s only able to spit out one word. “Obnoxious.”

His hands reclaim a firm grasp on your ample hips before he takes to fucking into you at a whole new angle— one that’ll surely hit that spot that got you to shut the fuck up moments ago. Your hands clamor for anything you could possibly grab onto to steel yourself, but there’s nothing except for the cool, flat glass beneath your palms.

“Kuni,” you rasp in a broken voice, beyond impressed with his ability to have found your most sensitive spot and target it specially. Call it sheer dumb luck or a testament to how perfectly compatible your bodies are, it doesn’t matter. He won’t let up on it until you’ve collapsed— maybe it’ll be a nice change of pace from your partners being the ones to collapse after an evening with you.

With the task of finding something to hold onto having proven fruitless, you instead slip a hand back between your legs to rub at your clit. Scaramouche snickers at your apparent desperation to orgasm, but he’s not letting you off that easily.

“What a pathetic display,” he remarks, pounding into you so quickly you can barely register the full length of his cock before he’s pulling it all the way out of you again. With your legs trembling and your knees buckling, the possibility of actually collapsing underneath him is becoming increasingly likely— these wild, frenzied thrusts of his prove exactly why you’re so into college guys.

Looking down from the fuzzy reflection of your face in the glass, Scaramouche watches each sink of his cock into your tight, dripping cunt with all the intensity and attention of a virgin. It may as well be his first time— you feel so fucking good he’s starting to lose his train of thought. You take him all the way to the hilt on each thrust so easily that he’d absolutely call you a common whore if he were able to form even a single word.

Despite his inability to form a coherent sentence, Scaramouche finds that he has just enough rationality left to pull out mere seconds before coming all over the swell of your ass, his cock twitching in his hand as he bites back moans. Here he is, coming all over the soft ass of his obnoxious older neighbor lady after spending so many months convincing his friends that he does not, in fact, want to fuck her.

You laugh breathlessly, the hand between your legs still rubbing frantic circles over your clit as you attempt to reach your own orgasm as well. “What’s wrong with coming inside? I’m hurt.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. That’d be irresponsible.

“Well, that’s alright,” you chirp, standing upright and turning around to face him. “I can always wring it out of you myself, right?”

“You’re insatiable,” he replies, inching backwards towards the couch as you step forward in time with his footsteps.

“Pot, kettle. You’re still hard, Kuni.”

With the realization that he’ll need some kind of excuse to offer his friends when he inevitably returns to a slew of unread messages a few hours from now, he falls backwards onto the couch just before you make yourself comfortable in his lap.

Well, not that any of them have ever believed any vague, half-baked excuse Scaramouche gives.

[parvulous-writings]

Soot // Liu Kang X Reader

Request:    Tumblr seems to know I'm on a Mortal Kombat kick and showed me some of your work for it. They're wonderful!I was hoping you could indulge a bit? How about Liu Kang with the prompt, "Shh, stop fussing. I like how your hair feels when you wash it."Poor boy in the movie looks like his hair is constantly being singed and washed with soot.

Requested by: ​@rhyske

Summary:  Some fluffy Liu Kang, using the prompt  "Shh, stop fussing. I like how your hair feels when you wash it."

Warnings: none

Words: 1.4K

Notes: Am I on a Mortal Kombat rampage? Yes.  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Not my gif

A day’s training was always a grind.  It wasn’t that you truly lacked motivation, or the energy to train alongside him, it was just so repetitive. Day in, day out, the same motions, occasionally with a different training partner. Even with Liu Kang, your favourite sparring partner, sessions seemed to drag on for much longer than they actually did. You didn’t know what it was, but Liu let you leave the fight pit around mid morning, much earlier than usual.  “I can see your restlessness.” He told you, “Perhaps you  need a change of routine?” He suggested, and who were you to argue? He was most likely right, and you knew it. “I have a few things to do myself, today,” He told you, “So spend your free time as you wish.” He gave a brief, respectful bow, before striding off down a hallway and out of sight. What he could possibly need to do besides his rarely uncompleted chores was beyond you; he had always completed his chores long before everyone else had gotten up, he worked like clockwork. He was up at least two hours before dawn, just to make sure that he had enough time to finish off his allotted chores. It never changed. You tried not to think too much on what he could be doing, and instead tried to focus on clearing your mind, on something other than daily life in the temple. 

You went to sit on one of the high balconies of the temple, your eyes scanning over the horizon, it’s greenery and it’s barrenness. It was almost amusing, how diametrically opposed the horizon seemed to be, how conflicting it was. It showed how fickle the world could be- in it’s natural state, as well as it’s man-made counterpart. But the man-made portion could be brushed off, easily explained away; whilst the natural confliction... That was harder to explain, and there was beauty in that. It comforted and relaxed you, lulling you into a state of peace. Your eyes drift closed as your muscles find more relaxation than they had in a long time, even during late, peaceful nights. You don’t know how many hours it had been when you finally come to again. All you could tell is that it has been a fair while- the sun only just peaked through the clouds and the mountains in the distance, painting what you could see of the sky marvelous shades of rose, and merigold. Though you were momentarily transfixed by the beautiful sight, you forced yourself to push away from where you had ended up nesting, taking a moment to regain your footing; you made sure that you didn’t fall over when your head spun slightly by placing a palm against the wall, perhaps it was not such a good idea to rise from your resting place so suddenly. 

You start to wind your way through the endless corridors of Raiden’s temple, trekking your way through the structure until you arrived at the communal dining area. Not a cafeteria or canteen in the Western sense, but a large room where all the inhabitants of the temple could eat with their cohorts and companions during mealtimes. It was often used as a meeting place for more trivial matters amongst the monks, as well, as it was a landmark in some sense of the word. Only one other person occupied the space at the current time, and you sure didn’t mind his company. It was, of course, none other than Liu Kang. You slide into the seat next to him after grabbing yourself a few, dry snacks, leaving ample space between you both so that you didn’t intrude on his personal boundaries, you were aware of how highly he valued them outside of the fight pit and other training areas. He glanced to you, giving a subtle nod, and a tiny smile. You didn’t need words to greet each other, and you hadn’t done for a long time. There was something different about him, though. You couldn’t quite place it at first, but then it struck you. The side of his face and just under his his nose, frequent contact points of his face, were clean, not clad with specks of soot as they normally were. You looked a bit closer, and saw that his hair- usually clumped together, bound by soot and other fire-based grime- was back in it’s natural, clean state, a few individual strands flowing free in the gentle breeze from a few open-arch windows just behind the pair of you. You start to smile lightly, you always felt your heart beat just that little bit faster when you saw he was taking even a few minutes to look after himself rather than anyone else. He was such a selfless soul, to the point where he often neglected himself. You shuffle a little bit closer to him, which he didn’t mind- he thought you were trying to get warm, as you often did when you sat next to him, whether you were aware of it or not. Your hand starts to snake up over his shoulder to the raven hued strands, and Liu doesn’t notice at first. It isn’t until you carefully tugged at his hair that it got his attention. 

His eyes move to you, and he isn’t sure whether to move away from you or not. “What... What are you doing?” He questioned, his voice not much more than a whisper. His furrowed brows conveys his confusion, and it was a rather adorable look on him. He started to move his hand to take your wrist, his prayer beads clacking quietly, “(Y/N)?” He asked when he got no response from you, and you carefully bat his hand away.  "Shh, stop fussing. I like how your hair feels when you wash it." You tell him, and he seems genuinely surprised by the news.  “You do?” Liu pauses briefly, lowering his hand, placing it back down on the table, by his bowl of soup. “You noticed?” He asked, tilting his head ever so slightly as he spoke.  “Of course I noticed!” You laugh gently, shaking your head at him a little bit. Your hand moved higher into his hair after his silent nod of consent, and you smile slightly as the pads of your fingers massaged his scalp. “You’re usually covered head to toe in soot...” You tease, causing him to smile along with you.  “The drawbacks of a fire arcana...” He mused, sighing contentedly as you run your fingers through his hair. It’s a heavenly feeling for him, your touch is perhaps the only one he is accustomed to in this intimate way. 

“Perhaps you should wash it more often.” You suggested playfully to him, and he chuckles in amusement. He turns his head ever so slightly, so that he could look at you and still have your hand in his hair.  “I hardly think that there’s time for that.” He said to you, half serious about the statement.  “Of course there is.” You tell him, still smiling warmly. “If not... You can get up just a little bit earlier to do it every other day.” You teased him, pulling your hand away from his scalp as you spoke, so you could nudge his shoulder gently. He nudged you back, though it was considerably weaker than your initial bump.  “Perhaps...” He mused, mentally entertaining the idea for a brief moment.  “If not... I can always do it for you in the evening.” You offered, shrugging lightly as he gave you a look as if to say ‘are you sure?’

You sat quietly together for a moment, both of your hands moving into his hair as he shuffled round to lay across your lap, wanting to make the most of the moment and the feeling of you being so sweet to him. His eyes start to close as his muscles lose most of their tension, his breathing becoming even and the epitome of calm. For a moment, you could have sworn he had fallen asleep there- not that you would have minded all that much. “Liu?” Your whisper broke the comfortable sheen of silence that had fallen over the pair of you. He hummed quietly in response, his eyes not opening, and he felt too relaxed to reply verbally just yet. “Should we get back to training, soon?” You asked him, and he sighs quietly.  “Alright... But let us just have a little while longer like this.” He tells you, patting your thigh gently. You smile down at his peaceful expression, and though you didn’t want to disturb him, you knew you would get in trouble with Lord Raiden if you slacked off for too long.  “Okay... Five more minutes?” You suggested to him, and he nods slightly in reply. “Five more minutes.” He confirms.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Thoughtful Affection

Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Colin always finds himself kissing you without second thought behind it, but sometimes there are kisses shared more thoughtfully than that.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: just fluff, kissing

A/N: A sweet little idea inspired by my lovely Mille @iliveiloveiwrite <3

Colin Bridgerton was undoubtedly the sweetest man you have ever known, and certainly romantic without question. Not a day would go by where he hadn’t made it abundantly clear that he was utterly in love with you, the mere thought of that happening having been one that was preposterous. He loved you so wholly, even, that he found himself doing so as if it were second nature.

One

You stretched for the first time in hours as you awoke that morning, muscles stiff and tired from having laid tangled in one spot for far too long with the love of your life. The day had been utterly melancholy from the very moment you cast your eyes upon the window, trickles of raindrops having trailed down the chilled window panes lining the walls of your room. Not to mention, the heavy patter that had consistently pelted against your home was far too obvious to ignore.

Days like those had been rather perfect, however, providing ample enough reason to stay within the warmth of ruffled blankets and sheets in the arms of your love for that much longer. Besides, who wants to work on a day like this very one anyway?

Your attention is soon brought from the window to the very grip that had squeezed tighter around your waist, a chaste kiss pressed just below your jaw. The action brought the softest of smiles to your face, a laugh falling from your lips at the tickle against your skin. Ruffled curls of brown hair had brush over your cheek as he lifted his head, his eyes barely open and you were quite sure he had barely even been awake. Regardless, the sight was entirely sweet either way.

His cheek was rosy from having been pressed against his pillow, his hair dipping over his eyes. The very tips of your fingers combed through his hair gingerly, trailing down to trace lightly over his cheek, to smooth over his chin. You hadn’t missed the way he leaned into your touch, nor did you miss the smile tugging ever so sleepily at the corners of his mouth. He fought desperately against his fatigue to open his eyes, his smile widening within the first moment of seeing you.

His lips were quick to press on yours, languid and gentle and the first of many that day. It was an act without thought behind it, routine one might say. Each and every morning without fail, a kiss is shared in the first fleeting moments of the day. One is always inevitably turned to two, two to four, four until you’ve managed to pull yourselves from the comfort of your bed to start the day ahead. It always proved to be a hefty task, but one you never minded in the slightest.

“I thought you were trying to take your leave from my arms, love,” he mumbles, a soft laugh to follow as his nose nudges against yours.

“As if you’d let me,” you murmur, smiling blissfully at the feel of his lips pressing along your cheek.

“Can you blame me?” He asks, words muffled against your skin as a shiver runs through you. It was one he very much notices, tugging the blanket up further though the warmth of his arms would always undoubtedly suffice.

You simply sigh in amusement, your sigh turning to a laugh as his fingers dance across your hip. The simple sound had made his heart flutter, though he will admit it wouldn’t take very much for you to do just that.

“Surely we must—” he starts, interrupted by a yawn, “we must not have plans if the weather is so awful, right?”

“That would simply be ridiculous,” you mumble, sleep having had its hold on you once more.

A kiss is pressed blindly to the corner of his mouth, a hum leaving your lips as you tuck yourself against him comfortably. No further words needed to be spoken to know that the morning would be spent in that very bed, the way you’d rested your head in the crook of his neck was telling enough.

“I love you,” he whispers softly, tenderly.

“I love you.”

Two

The day had been rather busy compared to most others, Colin’s study having looked as though a tornado had swept through the room without a moment’s notice. Papers and maps had lay sprawled nearly anywhere the eye could see, some crumpled and some lay neatly stacked on the mahogany desk. Some are hanging to signify their absolute importance and some remain scattered on the floor without care to pick them up in the current moment.

Several books from the towns library sit stacked on an area of free space, though there was minimal real estate left on the large desk to begin with. You had to step in before he tipped over a half empty bottle of ink onto a map he’d been so keen to use.

“Colin, you don’t have to be quite so stressed, love. I’m sure taking a moment to breathe will be just fine,” you sigh, a smile playing on your lips when he stops shuffling through papers and spares you the fondest of glances.

“I want this trip to be perfect, darling. I shall relax once I am in better standing with this planning,” he huffs, running his hand through his hair for what was surely the hundredth time.

You sigh softly and purse your lips, watching him lick the tip of his finger to scan through a book at the top of the pile. Black ink smudged and stained the cuff of his shirt, and you knew that simply wouldn’t come out at this point, his jacket strewn over the back of the chair. He was ever so hard on himself when it came to the planning of your travels; he felt everything must be perfect though it really didn’t need to be. It could be a trip as spontaneous as the journey to the bakery in town and you’d still cherish it for days and weeks to come. But Colin had been stubborn, insisting it should be wondrous.

You watched as he sorted through the pile of books he’d accumulated, watching his cheeks stain pink and his chest heave with a soft huff. It was a sight entirely too precious.

“You are terribly cute when you’re flustered, do you know that?” You ask, brushing the hair out of his eyes. It was then that he paused his actions if only for just a brief moment, his hand coming up to rest warmly over top of your own. His smile was something most enamoring, dimpled and sweet as he dropped his quill to the desk.

“And darling, you are terribly cute all the time,” he says, the pad of his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. His shoulders slumped as he kissed your palm, parting from you to grab his jacket. “I must return to the library, there’s just one more book that I know I will need, I promise.”

You sigh softly and tilt your head, a smile gracing your lips nonetheless. “It is almost closing time, you know.”

He slips on his jacket and grumbles at the sight of the ink stains on his shirt. “And that is just why I must make haste.”

He smiles tenderly as he kisses you goodbye, catching the corner of your mouth in his hurried state but he is ever so quick to dip down and kiss you fully, his hand lingering in your own for a few moments longer. He doesn’t want to leave, he never does, but he knows he just won’t relax until he retrieves the very book weighing heavy on his mind.

“Hurry back?” You call after him.

“Assuredly, my love!”

Three

The Bridgerton family home was quiet for perhaps the first time that day, it’s bustling and energetic family members having since gone to bed for the night. Everyone had come together for a visit back home, only Hyacinth and Gregory having yet to leave the nest. It was nice to be in everyone’s presence once more, having brought you back to the times you’ve spent with the family ever since you’d been a child. Yet, even years later, having married the love of your life and moved to your very own estate, it felt as though nothing had changed.

The two of you found yourselves tucked away on the terrace that’d overlooked the garden, the stars above you beaming bright as they speckled across the sky. It was tremendously beautiful, and you’d argue it was the best place to gaze above you in all of London—the second being the gardens of your own home.

You could see the tops of every flower, their beauteous scent wafting your way each and every time the breeze blows. Said breeze brings with it the sound of the leaves in nearby trees, wind chimes singing in response to the weather. Not a single cloud hung in the sky as you focused your attention upwards, the cool spring wind washing over your skin as your hand lay enveloped with Colin’s. Your head rested on his shoulder, his rested on your own as he was content to just merely sit with you. This was all he ever truly needed. Not fancy soirées or expensive dinners, not elaborate outings and ballroom dances. This is all he wanted.

Simple moments were most cherished, ones where few words needed to be spoken. Just your presence alone was something that makes him forever content, no matter what it is you’re doing. You hadn’t needed to even be paying attention to him, really, just having you there was leaps and bounds better than not. That fact had always remained true for all the time that he’s known you, he knows that for certain.

Your free hand had been busy fumbling with the button on his shirt cuff, an action entirely absentminded yet one that had brought the softest of smiles to his face nonetheless. He didn’t even mind the way your hair blew and tickled just under his nose; the minor inconvenience was worth it so long as you were comfortable. Even the cement of the balcony you sat on wasn’t enough for him to be displeased.

“Have you ever wondered just how many stars there are in the sky?” You ask softly, curiously, a laugh leaving his lips.

“I suppose it has crossed my mind a few times,” he murmurs, amusement in his voice as he gives your hand a squeeze. Your own smile is instant at the feeling, at the very sound of his laugh for that matter. “Do you wish to know something?”

You hum in response, shifting your head to look at him better. His smile was tender as he thought of the words residing on the very tip of his tongue, his fingertips dancing overtop the back of your hand. You hadn’t missed the breathy laugh he exhaled, though you weren’t privy to the look of utter fondness on his expression.

“I love you a thousand times for each star that sits in the sky,” he murmurs, his declaration certain and true. “And a thousand times more.”

Your heart flutters at his words, his foot nudging yours to accompany his statement.

“Do you wish to know something?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him fully.

“Enlighten me,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You grin adoringly at him, at the way his eyes sparkled in the glowing moonlight and the way he looked at you as if you were the center of the very universe. “I love you a million times for each star that sits in the sky. And a million times more.”

It was far too dark out to see the way a soft crimson stained his cheeks the very same way yours had been. But not enough to miss the way his gaze upon you became impossibly more loving as he blinked at you slowly, tiredly. It was rather late after all, the day having been busy with a family that’d been a handful, a wonderful handful at that.

“You really are something, do you know that?” He beams, his expression amused.

“I do indeed.”

He laughs then, quiet and sleepy as his nose bumps against your own and his breath fans warmly over your skin in contrast to the chill of the air. “Should we go to bed now?”

You sigh softly, contently, hand squeezing his. “I’ll meet you there in a moment.”

He simply nods, taking in a few more seconds with you until you part briefly. Then, a kiss is pressed to your lips, chaste and fleeting and one given without second thought. A good night kiss is one always shared without fail, no matter the circumstance.

“Good night, darling,” he murmurs.

“Good night.”

One

The ballroom once filled with boisterous and jovial guests had since been quieted upon the end of the event, concluding the need to be ever so proper and talkative with each and everyone who’d commented on your estate. Scuff marks had remained on the floors from the hours of dancing and socializing, empty cups of lemonade remaining on once lavishly decorated tables. Flowers had been plucked from their arrangements from suitors and gifted to debutants, a few of their petals remaining scattered across the hardwood floors in a snow of soft pinks and creams.

It had been an event most successful, better than you could have imagined for only having hosted twice prior to that evening. Though you will admit, you did have the help from the lovely Mrs. Bridgerton. You owe every compliment to her if you were being honest, for she had a certain style that had been unable to be recreated, unable to be outdone. All of London would be in agreement with such a statement. As beautiful and seamless as everything had been, you would be lying if you said it hadn’t been a relief it had all come to a close for the night.

The room seemed to triple in size now that it’d been just the two of you, Colin having shooed away any and all who’d tried to clean up. It was far too late for even the two of you to be awake, and he felt as though no one should have to clean up such a grand mess at that late of an hour. It would simply be cruel.

“We did it,” you sigh, twirling to face him with a tired smile. “I think perhaps this just might have been our best ball.”

He smiles adoringly, dimples absolutely adorable as they make their appearance. “You did it.”

A blush burns your cheeks as he takes your hands, pulling you close for the first time in what felt like ages that night having been tied up in socializing. His blue velvet jacket had since been discarded, draped over the back of a miscellaneous chair. The top few buttons of his shirt had been undone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were tired as you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, your smile soft yet fond all the same. “You flatter me, my love.”

“You must know, I am simply telling the truth,” he murmurs, dipping down to press a kiss to your cheek, one to your jaw, and one just under your ear. You laugh out softly and push at his shoulders, biting the inside of your cheek in a pitiful effort to hide your smile.

His arms tighten their hold around you, twirling you once and leaving your squeal to echo in the room. Your laughter mingled between the two of you, breath dancing warmly on flushed skin in the closeness of your proximity. There was not a moment that went by with him that had been dull, you were sure of it, and you knew there never would be.

“Well, I am simply telling you that I love you,” you say, your grin beaming. “Tremendously.”

His smile is pressed to your lips as he kisses you, tender and true as he lips meld with your own. Your laughter dissolves into the moment of affection, the feeling letting loose a thousand butterflies to flutter within his stomach. It was gentle and languid, the utmost of love poured into one single kiss. When he parted he decided he wasn’t quite finished yet, pressing one, two, three more kisses upon your lips.

“I love you,” he whispers, “tremendously,” kiss, “assuredly,” and another, “entirely.”

Your grin turns soft as your eyes flutter closed, the moment having been all too dizzying and full of bliss to do just anything else. There you stood, in your very own home with the love of your life. It was wonderful, it was enchanting, it was a life so beautifully yours.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @heloisedaphnebrightmore @writeroutoftime @awritingtree

[silverwhiteraven]

Happyhoganon: How about a story that has Superman & Ladybug outsmarting Lex Luthor together?

Why are all our Supervillains Bald?

"You didn't have to knock my Partner out like that, you know," Ladybug huffs as she settles Chat Noir into the deck chair of her civilian balcony, feeling miffed about the whole situation. Superman, having the decency to not complain and to cooperate while being lectured, handed her the red and black tent poles, from the red and black-spotted camping trunk her Lucky Charm had summoned earlier, when she wordlessly motioned for him to get them.

"You're right, Ladybug- I'll apologize to him once he's awake," the man in blue and red said as he helped Ladybug untie the shade cover from overhead. For all the gear inside the box, an actual tent was not one of them, so of course improvising was happening. There was a sleeping-bag, of course, but Ladybug had instructed Superman to wear it like a cloak so he wouldn't attract so much attention with his recognizable uniform as they tried to escape and hide from the Akuma. With the ladybug spotting it sported, though, he was pretty sure it did quite the opposite.

Ladybug nodded in acknowledgment of Superman's spoken words, concentrating her focus on the makeshift shelter they were putting over Chat. As a final touch, she pulled a tall potted plant in front of the entrance, completely sheltering Chat Noir from view at any angle. She crossed her arms and nodded, satisfied. Then she spun on her heel and pointed at Superman, who tensed from the sudden change in her point of focus. "Alright, tell me everything you know about this Akuma victim! No more rushed or vague answers; I need to know why Chat was being targeted and how that affected him so much that you had to go and decommission him. Talk, blue boy."

Superman was honestly surprised she hadn't called him Boy Scout like many before. In fact, he half expected her to call him by his civilian name like another black haired, blue eyed figure of justice he knew. Ladybug even looked liked she belonged smack dab in the middle of Batman's nest of children, teens, and adults who could all kick butts and take names.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Superman answered her demands. "Lex Luthor, a common obstacle of mine from back in the States. Started out as a small town millionaire-by-inheritance when I first knew him, and turned into a 'Big Apple Billionaire' when the last of his morals went out the window if his latest sports car." Ladybug looked absolutely baffled by the sudden metaphor, so he quickly rephrased. "Lex's father started making dirty money off the company before he died, and Lex decided to follow suit once he realized just how dirty he could make his hands by applying his high intelligence and military-worthy knowledge to the black markets. I was keeping track of him and came here as soon as I realized something was happening involving him." Her curious look made him give a sheepish smile and point to his ear with a free hand that wasn't holding the sleeping-bag closed around his shoulders. "Super-hearing. I knew what Jupiter sounded like before NASA did."

"Okay," Ladybug looked a mix of skeptical and awed, but nodded then shook her head. "That still doesn't explain how you treated Chat."

A bit warry to answer, Superman looked away, watching the flowers that hid her Partner. "My people have a weakness to a particular type of radiation that comes from our home planet. When that planet was destroyed, pieces of it scattered all over the universe. Earth has a few tons of this Kryptonite from fine dust particles alone, but larger pieces survived entry, too. Lex Luthor has known about the material for years and hoards it to use at any chance he gets."

"Obsessed with the biggest weakness of the opposing hero, I know how that feels," Ladybug sighed, and Superman gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

"No doubt. But this material does more than just weaken me, Ladybug. Different kinds have different effects, and some, even in different forms, can affect humans, too." Ladybug tensed at that, glancing at her Partner before locking worried eyed back onto Superman. He gave her a grim expression then shook his head. "I've seen it first hand and experienced it myself, it isn't pretty. I've seen the stuff cause sickness, power weapons, even create Meta's. Earth is not a place for this, it isn't safe like it was back home. Maybe if it ha been around for millions of years, life could have evolved to live alongside it, but..."

"But we don't have that sort of time now," Ladybug concludes, and Superman nods. "So his targeting of Chat-?"

"The radiation of Kryptonite can enhance powers or even cause mind control. Chat Noir and his ability under the control of my Villain and yours? I couldn't see things ending well. I knew things were about to go off the rocker. So when he got nicked and the wound glowed green, I- I'm sorry, Ladybug, but magic and I do not-and I mean REALLY do not-mix well, so I'm at a doubled-and-amplified disadvantage here. Benching your Partner was my only option."

"With M. Luthor Akumatized and making this stuff to his heart's content like that- Now that I know, I have a bad feeling you'd have been right. It doesn't make me feel any better, though," Ladybug sighed.

Superman nodded, accepting of her words. "I won't feel good about it either. I'm just glad it won't be permanent."

"Yeah, if we win," Ladybug adds glumly, and he pats her on the back, hard enough to knock her out of the bad mood. She blinks at him, shocked, and she smiled encouragingly.

"We will win, I promise. It may not be as fast as we would like, especially since it will only be the two of use seeing as the whole JLE branch had to evacuate after Hawkmoth showed up-" Ladybug chuckled awkwardly, remembering how stressed she had been knowing she and Chat Noir were on their own unless a specific foreign hero was there to help them with one of their own villains, like right now- "But we will. I know Lex's weaknesses as a person, as well as where to find what he's looking for. Wonder Woman used to guard a stash of Kryptonite under the Louvre before we had to move it, and only the Heads of the JL know where it is now. And you, well-"

"I know Hawkmoth's weaknesses, and the ones of his Akumas, as well as his goals, too. After all, I wear them on my own ears. Yeah... Yeah, you're right! We can do this!" Ladybug cracks a smile and a glimmer gets into her eyes as her gaze falls on the Lucky Charm camping trunk. "And I know just how to start. Come on, blue boy, we're heading for the Louvre to take down a couple of baldies."

Glad to have lifted her spirits, Superman grins. "I'm at your command, red lady."

[kyloswarstars]

ROOMMATES • Part 8

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.7k

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

The day in the zoo was sad and great and irritating and left you with a faint emptiness. Eric kept a physical distance ever since. His hand didn’t brush yours randomly when you met in the hallway. He didn’t stand close to you at the check out when you went grocery shopping together. His feet didn’t accidentally pump into yours under the dining table when you had the roommate gatherings. He didn’t sat down next to you on the balcony, he didn’t bump into you when you got out of the bathroom and he certainly did not press his side to yours anymore. His thigh, his arm, his shoulder wasn’t burning against yours, the magnetising pull just eradicated as if you had never felt it at all.

Your bodies didn’t touch anymore and that made sure that none of all those times, you had wondered if it had been on accident, had been on accident. It had always been on purpose. Eric had wanted to be close and now he didn’t want to anymore. And the weirdest thing of it all was that you still wanted to be close.

The weeks went by. Chicago finally decided that it was time for all the stuffy air to vanish. With one big, biblical doomsday thunderstorm the sky cleared itself with heavy rain and sent all the heat it had held to the future. Stored it for next summer. It was still warm, still summer but it slowly came closer to its end, moving on from the start, moving on from you moving into this apartment.

You stared at the walls in the night. There was still the knocking. Every single night, his knuckles morsed ‚GN‘ and you returned it. That was the closest your hands got – six inches divided by a wall.

While Eric remained this physical distance, his eyes didn’t stop staring at you. And lacking his side pressed against yours in the most random situations, you stared right back. Whenever you sensed his eyes on you, you were drawn to them immediately. As if the magnet had been shoved into them, now that is wasn’t in your thigh anymore.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. A good mantra to repeat when you worked on the study. For a few days you had to repeat it almost every minute to concentrate. But the more time, days and then eventually weeks passed, it got easier. Peter had still been on your mind now and then but he just wasn’t worth it. And, even without Eric stating the obvious back at the zoo, you knew it. It was summer break still, but as soon as the new semester would start, there would be no time to think about a guy anymore. Not about Peter and not about Eric.

With that you fully regained the realistic side of your mind. You concentrated on your beloved constant in life called mathematics. You tidied your room, threw out stuff you didn’t need anymore. You made pizza with Eric for all the roommates, he didn’t press himself next to you at the countertop but instead let you knead the dough on your own. Eric occasionally searched for a conversation and it was all still very sincere, way too friendly for the guy who had argued with you for more than two years in your classes. But no. physical. contact.

Reality. You focused on it and decided it was time to call your brothers. During the summer break your contact always faded a little, giving the fact that Cole had to be at every party, Levi saving his ass and leading a group of volunteers at the sea turtle rescue centre and you being wrapped up in whatever went through your mind.

It surprised you that both of them actually accepted the video call. Instant homesickness greeted you. Especially from Levi’s window. He was sitting in the kitchen, your mom cooking dinner in the background.

„Honey!“ She blurted over the boiling pots. Levi didn’t even have the chance to say hello. Cole, in his window, rolled his eyes. „Didn’t I and your father tell you to at least text once a week? So we know you didn’t fall of the earth’s surface, yet?“

She joked a little but you heard the seriousness in her voice. And it instantly made you feel guilty, knowing very well that a simple one word ‚alive‘ message would be enough for them. And you didn’t know why it was so hard for you to simply do that.

„I pledge improvement.“ You promised and tried to stick to it this time.

„Levi, move! Before dad comes around and threatens Y/N to fly up there every week to make sure she’s okay.“ Cole was laughing and Levi left the kitchen on his order.

„So you are alive,“ Levi stated. With him and Cole it wasn’t that much guilt anymore. Still a little but less than with your parents.

You affirmed and then lead the conversation in a different direction, tricked them into telling you about their summers without having to talk about yours.

Cole got drunk every second day, Levi got his ass home whenever he couldn’t walk straight anymore. No surprise. Levi gave a detailed report about the current numbers of turtle nests and the amount of baby turtles they expected to hatch. It was Levi’s first summer break since he had started college. Instead of freaking out like Cole and running to every beach gathering he could find, he sticked to be the responsible volunteer he was and cared for the turtle protection. It made you proud. Cole, was still on the team too. Only on the afternoons, though. After he had slept off his hangover and before he made sure to get a new one.

Brothers.

At the end of the call your dad fetched Levi’s phone, who sat on the porch by now, and stared at you for a second. He wasn’t as carefree anymore. A few years ago he would just blurb about everything that came to his mind. Now, he thought more about the things he said and what to hold back.

„You need more sleep, honey,“ he said, looked at you with a caring smile and ended the call. I know.

Shortly after the beeping of your phone, indicating the finished call, a knock on your door made you turn to it. By now you could tell apart your roommates by the rhythm of their knocking.

„Are you ready for the store?“ Eric peeked his head in and you wanted to say no but couldn’t. The golden rules of this household were sacred.

„Yes,“ you said instead and followed him outside to his car, parked right in front of the building. A rare parking spot – luck had to be fully on your side to find it free.

Uncomfortable memories of going to the grocery store and the aftermath of it accompanied you once again. This time, nothing would happen, you told yourself. No-one would see you and even if someone did, there was no chance for Peter to reach out to you again. Every possibility had been eliminated by Eric and you.

Eric pushed the cart, you loaded everything in. No blueberry fight, pizza wasn’t on the menu tonight and chocolate pretzels were fully stocked. No repeating of that awful day!

Eric came to stand next to you in front of the snack shelf, within a good distance of course. He grabbed a huge bag of chips, threw it in the cart and waited for you to continue. You stared at the chips in the cart.

„Not on our shopping list,“ you mumbled and almost would’ve returned them to the shelf but Eric grabbed the bag in time to save it from your hands.

„We will need it later,“ he said, his lips pulled in a honest smile.

„Why? What is later?“

He still held the bag of chips with one hand and pushed the cart down the aisle with the other. When he passed you, he dramatically stared at you for a second. „Big time cinema!“

Eric’s silly wide eyes made you laugh – and wish for his arm to actually brush you by accident. Just this one time. It didn’t. He was adamant to not touch you.

/////

With ‚big time cinema’ he meant Toy Story. So it was indeed big time cinema. And big was also the fact that you found yourself watching a movie. With Eric. In his bed. His laptop on his desk played the movie, you laid next to each other, backs propped on a lot of pillows and the bag of chips between you. He didn’t touch you and that gap between you could easily fit Christina if she was there.

At first you shook your head at his suggestion to watch a movie with him in his room. When he went for a good old debate on why you shouldn’t, you surrendered and hoped the dining table full of roommates didn’t make any remarks. No-one did. Christina only wiggled her eyebrows and hid her grin behind a spoon full of veggies.

But now you were here, on Eric’s bed, wearing some joggers and a hoodie and laughed at the screen whenever Rex the tyrannosaur had something to say.

„As a kid I always wondered if my own toys were alive as well when I wasn’t around.“ Eric mumbled with some chips in his mouth.

„Same,“ you whispered. „I wanted them to be real so bad!“

„Right? I wanted my toy cars to be real so they could drive to the kitchen and get me snacks.“ A single chip has fallen down on the way from the bag to his face. You were fast to steal it from the mattress and shove it in your mouth.

Eric turned to you, gasped and whispered in fake consternation: „Don’t you dare!“

You laughed once more. „I remember you saying that we will need this bag of chips. Not only you.“

He was quick to drop it and smiled at you as he placed the bag in the gap between you again. After having a huge bowl of veggies with noodles you still managed to kill the whole bag of chips with Eric. He was a little sad when he stared into the empty bag. He crumpled it up and tossed it into a corner of the room.

The positive side of running out of chips was the newfound silence and therefore finally understanding every word that was spoken in the movie.

„How are you, Y/N?“

There his question was again. In the zoo wasn’t the only and last time he asked. He kept asking whenever he pleased. And he wanted you to answer sincerely, you knew that. And you did, every time. The first time in long that you answered that question in full honesty. And he did as well, whenever you applied the question on him.

It was a lot easier now to answer him. „I feel good.“

„Yeah?“

„Yeah,“ you turned to see his face, the movie still playing in the background but of no importance for the moment. „I feel more like myself again. I understand now that my troubled thoughts about Peter are not worth it. That he’s not worth it but I am. I don’t care about him anymore. Not one tiny bit.“

Your words made his tensed face ease up a little. His lungs let out a breath he must have held. „Good,“ he smiled. He smiled and smiled and smiled. Then he turned to face his laptop again.

„What about you? How are you?“

„I feel more than good now,“ he stated which made you feel even better.

The movie continued playing. Woody and Buzz fought at the gas station. They eventually fell out of the car and were left behind. You were partially concentrating on the scenes, the Pizza Planet truck, when you noticed Eric’s hand moving closer to yours. Your hand, as well as his, was laying flat on the mattress. Out of the corner of your eye you saw it coming closer in ultra slow motion. Did he think you wouldn’t notice? Did he think you would scare away if he moved his hand faster? What did he think?

You took smaller breaths and tried to concentrate only on the movie but Eric’s hand was still getting closer. It was closer than your knuckles at night, when they knocked ‚good night’. Your eyes shifted between the screen, his hand, your hand. All while you didn’t turn your head. This stupid little heart inside of your chest quickened. It activated the butterflies in your stomach, sent them flying through your whole body. Excitement over the almost physical contact was rushing through you.

When his pinky spread out and ever so slightly brushed yours, he waited. For you to draw back, to possibly shout at him for what he was doing. You didn’t. You didn’t look at him, knowing very well that Eric wasn’t looking at the movie on his laptop at all. He kept his finger steady against yours, didn’t dare to move it or to breathe. You didn’t breathe either. Instead you linked your little finger with his, tying them like a knot.

Both of you exhaled at the same time. No one said a word. You still stared at the movie and sensed Eric’s head returning to the screen as well. All the butterflies gathered in your hand and made it tingle. They demanded for more. More than this simple but electrifying knot of your pinkies.

You couldn’t bring yourself to take his full hand, though. A million thoughts were running through your brain and all of them were leading back to this tiny touch. You were scared he would break the physical contact again if you searched for more. Unsure as to why he even had closed the gap and reached out after weeks of adamantly making sure no accidental body contact happened.

You were irritated. And you were… happy. And you stopped breathing once more. Eric stopped your train of thoughts abruptly.

He started to intertwine his fingers with yours. Just the way he had tried to in the furniture store. Back then you had drawn back but this time you didn’t. You welcomed his fingers between yours. When they were perfectly locked in place, you squeezed them shortly, causing Eric to sigh in relief. He grabbed onto your hand and held it tight, not giving you the choice of letting go anymore. Never would you have let go of his big hand entangled with yours. This pure feeling of holding his hand almost made you burst because it silenced the oppressing feeling of homesickness. It captured those butterflies and turned them into a vibrant, positive version of that doomsday thunderstorm from a few days ago. If holding hands could make you feel that way… what would a kiss feel like then?

That thought made your head turn to look at him. You just stared at him as he watched the movie with a grin on his lips. When the closing credits appeared on the screen, reflecting in his eyes, Eric turned to you again.

„I don’t want to leave just yet,“ you said, not really sure why this honest admittance sent heat to your cheeks.

„Okay,“ he whispered and leaned forward to start Toy Story 2 without letting go of your hand. When he pushed himself back into the pillows, he entirely closed the space between your bodies this time. He placed the bundle of hands that wouldn’t let go off each other, on his abdomen and just like that you laid next to each other. His thumb brushed over yours while the second movie unfolded in front of you. A smile was chiseled into your face. You noticed Eric shifting at some point and placing the bundle of hands on his chest. You noticed the movie's noises fainting after a while, your eyelids grew heavy. A wave of Eric’s sent was pushed over, calming you and dragging you into a sheltered sleep.

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee

[enigma-im]

Fourth Day of Christmas...

Trope: Damsel in Distress (Trigger warnings) Relationship: Dragon x Human Word Count: 7,990

Nobody knew about the Dragon living in the old castle. When the crew went over to tear it down they woke him. The task of collecting bricks seems shallow to the lives lost at the jaws of the mighty beast. All who near his home face a treacherous death, few make it back to tell the tale. The king grows restless, stubborn, and bitter about the loss of an abandoned castle. It meant nothing to him at first and now it means everything.

"Father, when are you going to get out of this stuffy office," I ask, pulling back the curtains. The room has taken on a sour smell, the king being the center of it. The litter decorates his desk and floor, piles of paper stacked on the edges of the table.

"When I'm done," he winces at the light," you understand, darling, the wretched dragon still runs amok. I cannot rest while he kills more of my people."

I scoff, picking up the crumpled pieces of paper," wouldn't have to worry about that if you just left the stupid thing alone."

"Excuse me," he snaps," would you rather have the beast fly down to our part of the world and snatch up our people for his meals? I say, I had you pictured as a better princess than that." I bite back a remark. I cannot have this argument again. Nowadays it's all we can talk about, that cursed scaled bird.

I straighten his station and much as I can, first wanting the excuse to speak with him and now wishing to leave as soon as possible. That dragon has twisted him, turning all his thoughts to destroying it and wearing its hide as armor. This ridiculous feud hasn't gotten us anywhere, just more people dead.

Wondering the castle I try to find ways to entertain myself. With father busy calling out for help to the knights of the area he no longer has time for me. I'm so narcissistic to assume he should only cater to me but I was his sidekick in matters of the kingdom. It was nice being useful for that short time. I sigh, looking up at the painting decorating the halls.

"I just want something to do," I mumble," I wish he would stop bothering with that stupid dragon."

The afternoon rolls into night with another day wasted roaming the halls. I retire to my room, falling into my bed with an annoyed huff. Tossing and turning all through the night as sleep evades me. How can one sleep when they haven't done anything during the day to earn it? A crack of thunder sounds in the distance, though no light shines through the window. I lay back and listen for the rain.

Closer now thunder echoes around me, startling my body into sitting up. I look towards my balcony, trying harder to listen for rain or see the bright flickers of light. I hear nothing, I see nothing. Getting up out of bed I walk over to the double doors, pulling back the curtain to look out at the land. Seeing nothing I open the door.

Walking out onto the balcony I take the moment to admire the dimly lit kingdom below. I soon look to the sky, seeing the beautiful starry night. Not a cloud in sight despite the loud cracks of thunder. Confused, I turn back to my room.

As I walk for my doors I catch movement out the corner of my eye. I freeze. Turning slowly a gut dropping sight greets me. Hanging off the roof, latched onto the side of the wall, is a crimson dragon. It's golden eyes watch me, it's clawed hands gripping the banister of the balcony.

"Evening, princess," he purrs, his tongue slithering out. I recoil a step, dumbfounded and terrified as I grab at the door. Not looking away from him I slowly try to tug the handle towards me. His large head turns as the hinges creak. He stretches out his wings, pushing it back just as slowly as it was opened.

"Let's not make this harder than it needs to be," he crawls onto the balcony," I have no intentions of harming such a delicious looking morsel." I gulp, taking another step back as he approaches. He cuts off the door, circling me, guiding me towards the railing. I jump when my back hits the wood beam, steadying myself as I grab it in a tight grip. He regards me with amusement, stalking closer till his face is in front of mine.

"Please," I whimper, turning away. His horridly warm breath fans over my face, his tongue slithering out inches from my cheek. I shake in terror, wanting to scream, or run, or… something.

"Pretty, pretty," he sniffs at my hair," you would make a fine addition to my hoard." his claws trail over my waist as he guides me away from the banister. I stiffen at his touch, walking forward in hopes of lessening the contact. He tugs me against his chest, his warmth invading me. Without preamble, he crouches, stretches his wings, and launches into the air. I hear the balcony crack, the rails snapping off from the force.

I scream, clenching the damned beast tighter as he begins his ascent over the kingdom. My nails dig into his skin, feeling his laugh against my chest. He lets out a triumphant roar as he flies over the plains, his roar sounding similar to thunder. I whimper, clenching my eyes shut and hoping for a swift death.

We land in the ruins of a castle, falling through the caved-in roof of the main room. He stomps through the halls, his nails biting into my waist and his scales rubbing into my skin. We twist and turn down many halls till we enter a large bedroom. He sets me down, gentle to my surprise. I watch him waddle away towards a broken frame of a bed. The mattress sits on the floor surrounded by a large number of pillows and blankets, a nest. He plops down, resting like a dog with his chin on his hands.

I look at him confused, barely taking in the rest of the room as I fear for my life. What should I do now? Surely he plans to eat me as one last insult to the king. To pick my bones clean and personally deliver them to the palace front steps. That gruesome images plan on and on in my head till I'm trembling in the center of the room. This will be my final resting ground.

"Sit down! I'm not going to hurt you, princess," the dragon chuffs, smoke escaping from between his teeth. I jump at his gruff voice, grabbing at my chest in fear.

"W-what," I ask. I watch him twist his head towards me, eyeing me lazily.

"Do you assume I wish to eat you," he cocks a brow. I furrow mine confused.

"Well, of course, you are the man-eating dragon of old Brittania castle. Everyone knows of your appetite for men," I explain," what else would you do with the likes of me?"

His eyes roam over my body as he answers," I can think of a few things I could do with you." I stutter on his meaning, heat blossoming over my cheeks. Surely he didn't mean that.

"I-I have no uses, sir, I cannot think what I could possibly do for a dragon besides be his meal," I fidget, shifting weight from side to side.

He snorts," you clearly haven't entertained many men if you believe you have no uses for the likes of me."

I scoff at his insinuation," are you being crude?"

"No, I'm being lewd. Crude would mean I'm being simple or unrefined. I'm being more perverse and sexual," he explains. I'm caught off guard by his words, it rather educated than most. Even though he has been immodest, I'm near impressed with his explanation.

"Well, I have no use like that in either definition," I huff," if I may be so bold as to make a request, eat me if you wish to do anything lewd."

"Well, here I thought you would be stuck up and boring. Foolish of me to assume a spawn of king Fjord wouldn't be anything but," he looks away again, resting his eyes. I wait, expecting more from this strange conversation but he stays put. I almost feel brave enough to demand answers but seeing his large tail lazily flick a pillow aside stops that. So many questions run through my head as I stand in the room. There surely has to be a purpose for kidnapping me. I cannot be so ignorant to assume it's for money like normal men. What would a dragon even do with gold?

My legs grow tired, forcing me to sit against the farthest wall. I debate leaving, looking to the open door many times. I try to recall the journey from the main room to here, remembering the collapsed ceiling blocking the main exit. Even if I managed to sneak out of the palace, how would I get home? I do not know my way from here to there. The journey would be spent getting lost and starving to death if the animals don't get to be first. I drop my shoulders and sigh. No, it seems to stay put is sadly my best option.

The morning I awake to loud stomping shaking the floor. I startle awake, wincing as my back pops. My shoulders ache as I lean over my legs. Stretching I try to alleviate the pain some, failing utterly. This is as bad as when I fall asleep in the stables after playing outside too long. Though this is perhaps a tad worse. My shoulder pops as I raise my hands above my head and groan.

"All these pillows and blankets and you didn't think to grab one, or even sleep on the bed," the dragon says. I stiffen, looking to the beast.

"I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed," I answer quickly. He chuffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"a princess who doesn't take without asking, surely the world's gone mad," he laughs dryly. I grimace, hating the jab more than I can admit.

"I was raised by good parents who taught me to ask first," I bite back, stretching out my legs with another groan. He watches me, sizing me up before rolling onto his back.

"Excuse me, I've never met any royalty who could be accused of 'being raised right'," he wiggles on the blankets, scratching his back," you all are a bunch of greedy bastards who will take anything even if force is necessary."

"Bold of you to say having taken me from my home," I scoff under my breath. He rolls back onto his stomach, arching his back. It's fascinating to watch him move, the light from the window making his scales shine. I've never seen a dragon besides in picture books, this is truly a once in a lifetime sight. Even if he looks smaller than I'd imagine.

"food," he grunts," what should a man-eating dragon eat for breakfast?" he looks to me, licking his teeth. I recoil, flattening my back to the wall to be further away. He crawls off his nest, stalking towards me with smoke rolling out his nose. I shuffle onto my feet, stumbling to the farther corner of the room. He prowls as I try to find anything to fight him with, my corner lacks proper protection. As he steps closer I nearly whimper, not wishing to die so soon in my life. He reaches out a claw, snatching my shirt and forcing me on my rear. Towering above me he licks at my cheek, humming to himself.

"Sweet," he purrs. His maw opens, his teeth grazing my skin as he covers my neck. My heart beats wildly, making my head dizzy with the rush. I shut my eyes. His teeth press hard enough to dimple my skin, his tongue slathering my neck in spit. Before I can pass out from the adrenaline, he lets go.

"Looking a bit pale there, princess," he chuckles," you don't actually think I'll eat a pretty thing like you?"

I squint my eyes open, looking at his amused face. Confused, I turn back to him, watching as his lips curl into a smile.

"Of course I assumed you would," I snap," why else would I be here if not to fill your belly?"

He purrs," perhaps to let me fill yours?" I gawk at him, flustered at the suggestion. He barks out a laugh, taking a few steps back.

"lewd," I cross my arms," Lewd and mean."

He shrugs," I've been called worse."

The dragon waddles out to a side room. The doorframe is broken with the archway crumbled on the floor. I wait patiently for him to return, still confused about my purpose here. At the palace it was clear what I was to do and not do, as of lately it was a whole lot of nothing. The dragon returns dragging in a half mauled cow. He drags the horrid thing beside his bed, lounging on the pillows before feasting on the creature. I watch in disgust as he shoves his snout into the open chest. He tugs off a piece of meat, chewing happily as he looks over to me.

"Want some," he asks, nodding to the meat. I cringe at the meat, looking at him equally grossed out.

"I think I would literally die if I ate that," I answer.

He huff," drama queen. It's this or nothing."

"Then it's nothing, I can't eat raw meat," I answer.

"Can't eat ra-," he shakes his head," humans are too much."

I watch as he tugs off another piece of meat, pulling it out his mouth with pinched claws. He holds the morsel out in front of himself, lightly blowing on it. The air around his fingers seems to waver as if extreme heat is being applied. The meat begins to brown the longer he blows till the smell of cooked beef scents the air. He inspects the meat, nodding in approval before looking to me.

"there, cooked," he stretches his hand," now stop being difficult." I look from him to the meat. I'm reluctant to crawl over to him, still thinking of his neck clasped in his mouth. Crawling over I snatch the meat before retreating back to my corner. I take a tentative nibble, acknowledging its lack of flavor.

"Thoughts," he asks around another mouthful.

I chew the tough meat," it's dry."

He snorts," can't say that I'm a high-class chef. People generally say thank you but I guess I shouldn't expect that from royals."

I eat the rest of the meat, choking it down before I can think too much about it. The dragon inhales his meal like a savage, ripping and clawing at the meat with small growls.

"Thank you," I mumble. I couldn't figure he would hear me over the sounds of his loud chewing. Huddling in the corner I wait for whatever will happen next.

"You're welcome, princess," he says as he inspects the cow's head.

He eats for so long that I'm almost used to his grotesque manners. I actually grow bored sitting her before this ancient beast. Admiring his scales and the large room can only entertain for so long. As I reach my last strand of patience I demand his attention.

"Why am I here," I finally ask, the tension of the question pulling taunt. He freezes, looking to me over the nearly cleaned ribcage.

"Payback," he answers casually.

"To the king?"

"Who else? He keeps trying to take my home so I'll take his daughter," he looks back to his food," don't need to worry, I have no plans of harming you. I just want to make a deal with him. I'll give you back if he stops sending his men to try and kill me. Because despite what you may believe, I do not enjoy eating men…too oily for my taste."

I want to laugh if the image of him chewing up soldiers wasn't so horrid. Him admitting his plan does take the pressure off my shoulders. I believe I can trust him to keep his words, even if he is lewd and disgusting. It shouldn’t be too long before father sends one of his men up here to try to rescue me. Perhaps I can try to enjoy the company until then.

"What's your name," I ask as he shoves the bones aside and begins picking his teeth. He licks at his lips as he cocks a brow towards me.

"Kodim," he answers," what about you, princess?"

"Marie," I smile," I would say it's nice to meet you but I'd be lying. Hello Kodim."

"and I'll say with the utmost honesty that it has been a pleasure to meet you, Marie," he bows. I'm surprised by the bow, not truly expect something so polite. Perhaps he does have redeemable qualities that live up to his elegant status.

"So, what do you do here for fun besides kidnap princesses and eat the king's men," I only half-joke.

He shrugs, rolling over onto his side," not much. Besides eating, sleeping, rubbing one out, and hunting, I don't have much else to do."

I bunch my face up confused," rubbing one out?"

He sits up, a smile starting to curl up his face," you don't know rubbing one out?"

"Can't say that I do," I say cautiously. The mischievous look in his eyes tells me enough about where this may be going.

"excuse me for being lewd again but I really don't know how to explain it otherwise," he starts," it's masturbation. To rub my cock till I cum."

My neck heats up, rolling down my chest and up my face. An unwanted image of him doing such a thing in those pillows makes me cringe. I shake my head to rid the horrid thought, making him laugh in the process.

"Don't act so prude, princess, I'm sure you have done the deed in the seclusion of your room," he teases.

"For your information, I haven't, and I would be ever thankful if we changed the topic to something less invasive," I huff, embarrassed with myself. There isn't much I don't know but desires of the flesh is a genre I don't particularly dabble in. so much is to be done most of the time that I can't be bothered with thinking about what the maidens giggle about in gossip.

"Alright, alright, I didn't mean to fluster the pure princess. How about we talk about you, living the high life up in the 'untouchable' kingdom of Duloc," he scoffs at the end. This dragon has made his distaste of my land very clear, along with his hatred of my father. It's truly a blessing that he hasn't offed me for the sole crime of being born into high-class living.

"What is there to talk about? It's not an exciting life like people expect," I shrug, getting comfortable in my corner. I shimmy this way and that, getting poked and prodded with rocks.

"Come sit in my nest, watching you struggle to get situated is going to drive me insane," he exaggerates. With a sigh of defeat, I crawl over to his bedding, stopping before I can touch it as his previous activities echo in my head.

"Are these," I look up to him," Clean?"

He shrugs.

"ew," I sit back on the ground near the bedding. He barks out a quick laugh, snickering to himself as he reaches over. I try to bat away his hands but he snatches me by the leg and drags me onto the bedding. Sitting stiffly beside him he snorts.

"Tell me an average day in the life of a princess," he lounges behind me, curling around with his tail thumping in front of my legs. I can't bring myself to think just yet as I admire the spikes on the end of his tail. The appendage reminds me of a mace that's hung in my father's room.

"depends," I start," when I was younger it was filled with lots of classes. Had to learn the basics of reading and writing, studying tons of literature until my teens. Learned how to ride a horse, use table manners, math, history, and art. As an adult, I was introduced to actual work for the kingdom. How to formally address the people and begin diplomatic sessions between the ruling parties. It sounds boring but I really enjoyed helping out my father. Recently though… it hasn't been so lively." I reflect on the past year.

Father has been trying really hard to share the responsibilities with me, and I'd argue he was doing a swell job. It isn't till offers of marriage begin coming in, reminding him of his position. I can't be the son he wanted, and I think we both got to forget a little about that. Soon I will have to marry some snooty prince from another kingdom, to let him rule my people. It sours my stomach every time I think about it.

Kodim taps me with his tail, bringing my attention back to the present.

"Why is it different now," he asks.

I drop my shoulders," doesn't matter. It's nothing I can do even if I wasn't here."

He hums, turning his head to rest on his cheek," sometimes a little time away can bring perspective to things you couldn’t see before. Maybe being here is just the perspective change you need." I look to him, thinking on his advice. Could I dare to be so hopeful for a change?

"Don't try to twist this kidnapping into a positive light," I nudge his tail. He sniggers.

"Can't blame a guy for trying to make his princess happier," he jokes.

I cock a brow at him," your princess?"

He shrugs," I think we can both be optimistic about this little business deal."

We chat for a while, actually being more pleasant than I expected. One gets used to speaking with their words restrained. No one has ever spoken to me as Kodim does. It's almost…refreshing, even if it's sometimes lewd.

The next day I wake up laying in the nest next to Kodim. He is a good hands length away, curled around me. I roll over onto my back, seeing him glaring out the window.

I sit up," what's wrong?"

"A knight," he growls. I crawl out of his nest, standing as I near the broken window. Across the plain I see an armored figure riding a horse. They are still a bit a ways away but the threat is clear.

"What are you going to do," I ask, twisting around to Kodim.

"say hello," he smirks, getting up on his legs. I watch him walk out the room, stomping down the hall before I hear his thunderous roar from the skies above. Rushing to the window I catch a glimpse of him already gliding down the valley towards the knight. He circles the man, letting out another earth-shaking roar.

Kodim lets out a mighty burst of flame, cutting off the path for the rider trying to head towards the castle. The knight tries circling around, being forced back once again. I can't help but snort as he does it a third time. It's clear Kodim is messing with the poor man.

The dragon finally lands, standing stoically before the knight. I still can't help but laugh at the size difference. The survivors have told tales of a beast larger than small Kodim down there. He is still big but the exaggerations are clear. Kodim speaks to the man, walking around him as the man tries to wave his sword. Snatching the man up and slapping the sword away he lifts him high above his head, opening his mouth as he dangles the lad. The threat is clear, almost stomach retching.

I sigh in relief when he sets the man down, leaning down low the man tossed to the ground. After a moment Kodim takes flight, leaving the poor man to run to his horse and ride off away from the castle. I watch him till he is but a dot on the horizon, by then Kodim is heard stomping around outside.

"Did I kill your best men because that boy had to be some sort of insult if not," Kodim chuffs as he walks in.

"Not sure," I turn to him," I wasn't in charge of the soldiers."

"Pity," he stops beside me to look out the window," I think the king's men would have been properly motivated if they knew who they were fighting for." I scoff, ignoring his comment as I don't know if it was meant as a jab or a compliment.

"What did you tell him," I ask instead. He glances at me out the corner of his eye, then walks back to his bedding.

"Some beautiful theatrics before I told him to tell his king of the deal," he collapses on the nest," I sure hope he got all that because he looked damn near ready to piss himself."

"Well yeah, he had a scary dragon dangling him over their mouth. I'd be damn near ready to soil myself too," I defend the man.

Kodim laughs," don't flatter me so much, you'll make me soft."

I sneer," that better not be another vulgar joke." he laughs again.

Now with nothing left to do but wait I can't seem to find anything to entertain myself with. Kodim is only so amusing in such a barren room. I'm almost tempted to start cleaning the rubble up. Instead, I lounge around, trying hard to stir up some conversation with Kodim. He hasn't really done much since he left his home in the mountains. Even the story of growing up has been droll.

"What's around the castle," I ask, laying starfish on the bedding. He crawls out from his 'pantry', licking at his teeth. I watch him walk over and plop down beside me, resting his heavy head on my stomach. Air rushes out my nose along with an 'oof'. I try to push him off but he adjusts himself more on top of me. Reluctantly I let him win.

"some ruined houses, a lake, and lots of grass," he grumbles," why? Looking to escape before your father can send someone to retrieve you?"

" And ruin this vacation? As if," I pat his snout," No, I was just curious." he nuzzles against my hand, prompting me to scratch at his scales. I don't pay attention as I try to think of anything else to talk about.

"You want to see it," he asks. I stiffen at the question, constantly cautious of his double meanings. He snorts," not that, you perv, I meant the houses and lake."

"Oh," I blush," yea, I'd love to."

Kodim sits up off me, leaving me to get up and follow him as he walks out. As he reaches the door he glances over his back," maybe afterward I can show it to you," adding a wink before walking on. I stand flustered in the middle of the room, taking a moment before chasing after him.

"you're disgusting," I shout.

"Eh, you love it, princess," he bumps my leg once I catch up.

"I don’t know, jury's still out," I joke back.

"It's not a no, I'll take it," he smiles.

He guides me around the castle, lifting me once we reach the main room. Instead of flying out towards the destination, he drops me in the grass. Confused, I watch him land and begin walking away. Not questioning it I follow after.

Kodim leads us towards some torn down houses, the rock foundation is all that’s left. We look through each one, investigating the rubble with no real purpose. The conversation is amicable, him making me laugh more than a few times. I'd have to say this was a rather pleasant outing.

Back at the castle, I don't have a lot of opportunities to acts less than proper, being scolded for every unflattering snort or chuckle. Around Kodim I can be improper, even downright crass, with our conversations. He even encourages it, feeding into the conversation with his own crude comments.

With the afternoon already before us, I debate going back to his home. Yet, I'm not ready for it all to end. Kodim seems to feel the same as he knocks me from my thinking.

"You wanna see the lake," he asks.

"Can we walk from here to there and get back to the castle before it gets too dark," I ask.

"Who said anything about walking," he smirks, cocky as always.

I scrunch up confused," what would we do besides walking?"

He scoffs, crouching down and lowering a wing towards me," you can ride me."

I stare at the offering, a bit giddy at the prospect of flying with him and not held against his chest. To feel the wind in my hair and actually see the sights the height offers. I meet his eyes, biting my cheek to stop smiling.

"Now I know that's an innuendo," I joke. He barks out a laugh, snickering to himself before he gets the chance to retort.

"Only if you ask nicely," he winks," now stop, this is a once in a lifetime chance to ride a dragon. Don't ruin it."

I shake my head, amused, and begin the event of climbing on his back. He gives me a hand, using his arm as a stepping stool. I straddle the back of his neck, my legs hanging over his shoulders. I almost feel ridiculous up here, like when I first rode a horse. Looking around I try to find somewhere to hold onto. I open my mouth to ask when his wings spread out and swipe through the air. Yelping, I fall forward, squeezing his neck tightly.

"Not so tight," he grunts," choking the dragon is saved for the bedroom." his voice rumbles at my thighs, vibrating against my chest. I can't scold him for his joke as I'm looking at the ground so far below. I didn't figure I was one too afraid of heights but right now I can't piece together why I wouldn't be. I squeeze him tighter, folding my legs in against his shoulders.

"Don't look down, look ahead," he shouts. It's hard to tear my gaze from the ground. All my will power is put into looking to his neck, then his head, and finally the horizon. The fear drains slowly from me as I gawk at the view before me. The clouds look almost eye level, so close I almost dare to reach out and touch them. The trees and hills in the distances look so small, incomparable to looking at them from the castle. Up here everything feels so new, a perspective I never expected to have.

"Wow," I say in wonder.

The flight is ended shortly as I spot the lake coming into view. The sight is gorgeous, changing as we descent. For a moment I can almost see the whole lake, all edges. As we land I can see the pebbled beach below.

The landing is a bit bumpy as he more or less falls to his feet. I clench around him again, nervous about dropping the few feet to the dirt. Before I can start trying to climb off him he shakes, shifting me to his front. I yelp, holding on for dear life, to his amusement. His clawed hand rests against my back, the other cupping my rear.

"We're here," he stands on his two legs and walks to the water.

"Really," I bark," I didn't notice from the awful landing and sudden position shift."

"For someone who got to ride a dragon you seem rather hostile," he squeezes my rear.

"I wasn't till recently," I try to wiggle out his arms," and stop touching my ass!"

His laugh vibrates through me, even echoing as he sets me down. I scowl up at him, wanting to slug him in the chest for being such a jerk.

"Excuse me, princess, you are just too tempting," he purrs, falling to all fours to growl near my ear. I shove him aside, fighting back a laugh. Ignoring him, I turn to look over the lake. The sun has begun setting, making streaks of light dance over the water. I've never actually seen such a large body of water before, only admiring ponds and fountains.

"pretty, right," he asks, walking beside me and flopping down against the rocks. He groans, stretching out on the stones. "Warm," he mumbles. I grin down at him, enjoying watching him stretch out like a cat. I plop down beside him, spreading my legs in front of me. The view keeps my attention, the fresh air clearing my head. It's really peaceful out here.

"It is pretty," I nearly whisper.

We both rest by the water, Kodim resting his head on my lap. I lazily scratch him, watching the sun begin its colorful descent. I never understood wanting to stop and smell the roses before, taking the saying too literally as a child. It makes sense now.

"Thank you," I say to Kodim.

"For what," he asks. I look down at him, seeing him snuggled against my stomach with his eyes closed. I pet over his cheek, admiring the way the scales reflect with the setting sun. an eye peaks open, looking up at me.

"For flying me out here," I look back up at the water," it's really nice."

He shuts his eye back, humming with a smile. "it's truly my pleasure, princess."

We stay well past sunset, resting against one another while stargazing. At some point we shift positions, me resting against his stomach as he curls around me. I hold his tail in my lap and watch as each star begins to shine. A breeze rolls through, making Kodim shiver and snuggle in closer to my side. I pet at his neck, figuring it's time to head back.

Groggily, Kodim gets up, stretching before helping me onto his back. We fly back to the castle, the view just as amazing with the ground looking nearly completely black. A chill runs up my spine, forcing me to curl around his back.

We fly into the collapsed ceiling and walk back to the bedroom. Kodim beats me to the nest, flopping down onto the pillows with a pleased groan. He tugs some blankets on over himself, curling nearly into a ball. I can't help but watch him, dumbfounded at the adorable display. He looks up to me, lifting his tail and patting the space in the middle of his circle. I happily walk over, snuggling in next to him.

The next morning I wake up to something shaking my shoulder. I slap the annoyance away, pulling my blanket around myself more. I'm nudged again, even grabbed and tugged forward. Startled, I open my eyes and look around. I look up to a man in overly polished armor. Before I can say anything he covers my mouth, pulling me into his arms and dragging me out of the bed. I'm confused about my course of action as this is clearly one of my father's knights but I can see Kodim still sleeping a mere foot away.

"I'm here to save you, princess, try not to make too much noise," he whispers. The title rubs me the wrong way, it not rolling off his tongue like it does Kodim's. reluctantly I nod, knowing this was how it was all supposed to end. The knight helps me up, guiding me out of the room quietly. I pass one more sad glance at Kodim, guilty that I can't say goodbye.

I follow the knight around the castle, taking a different path than the one to the main room. We walk out a large gap in the split foundation into the bright morning. He walks over to an awaiting horse, petting them on the nose before grabbing at their reigns.

"We must leave quickly before he awakes," the man says, hurrying to help me onto the horse. He jumps on behind me, kicking the sides of the horse before we ride off away from the castle. It stings to leave, already missing Kodim's company.

Once we are a good distance from the castle does he slow his horse to a walk.

"Now that you're safe, I should introduce myself," he starts rather civilized," I am prince Ricardo of Florin."

I hesitate at his title," a prince? What are you doing coming out here?"

"I had to come out here," he grabs at my waist uncomfortably," I had to save my future bride from that horrid beast, as per your father's request." my heart sinks at his words. Future bride? No, that's absurd. There is no way any prince would bother with the ride out here, let alone to a known dangerous location.

"Future bride," I ask, pushing his hands off me," now I didn't agree to any of this. Why are you really here?"

He ignores my attempts of pushing him off and wraps his arms around my middle," alas, princess, I speak the truth. I made the deal with your father to have your hand in marriage if I am successful in rescuing you from the dragon. It would have been easy to get some lowly knight but I knew this task couldn't be trusted with just anyone."

His cheesy words spoil my stomach, rotting like a half-eaten apple in the bottom of the bin. I can believe my father doing something so desperate as promising me to another. I'm not naïve to assume otherwise. What really picks at me is the fact this man took on the journey himself. All princes I've met wouldn't dare get their hands dirty with a task like this. A knight for hire would have been an obvious choice, letting them venture inside and sneak me away. No, this doesn't sound like princely behavior.

"Alright," I drop the prim and proper," what is your goal here? Think you can marry into a royal family and get all the fame and riches as you like? It's a genius plan if only the princess you planned to save was an idiot. On the account that I am not, it's best if you just take me home and we pretend none of this marriage business happened." it's a clever plan, I won't deny it. The main mission would be to save me, not kill the dragon, so it would just take a quiet hand to snatch me away. I'm almost smug being able to see through his ruse. That is until his fingers begin to dig into my skin.

"I wanted to take the ride home to endear myself to you but it seems that's not an option," he sneers," so how about I just teach you what happens to little girls who don't understand how to show gratitude to someone who helps them." I wince as he squeezes harder, a hand trailing up to my chest and groping. I freeze at the action, very unprepared for such treatment. His lips peck at the back of my neck, making my skin crawl with every caress.

"Ricardo, you better take your hands off me right this instant," I try not to let my voice waver. His answer is a chuckle, reaching under my shirt to pet at my stomach. I jerk at the feeling of his cold fingers, jumpstarting my will to fight. I wriggle in his hold, tugging his hands away as I fight to get off the horse. He gives me a hand, pushing me off into the dirt.

I hit the ground hard, wincing at my shoulder take the brunt of it. Before I can recover he is on top of me, straddling my waist. I slap at him, swinging wildly with closed fists. I beat at his armored chest and get a single weak hit against his cheek before he grabs my hands. Pinning them to the dirt and smiling down at me.

"Such a spirited little princess," he grips my hands in one of his," I'll enjoy breaking you." I fidget and jerk away, trying to free my hands or kick my feet. He just laughs at my attempts, reaching for my collar and pulling it harshly to the side. A tear echoes around the morning air, making my eyes stinging as tears threaten to fall. He gropes and plays with my breast, growing hard in his trousers. I fall lax, stopping my fight for just a moment. He smiles wide.

"Good girl," he purrs," just let it happen." he bends down to suck a nipple into his mouth, his hand trailing down my arm before grabbing at my chest. I hiccup, tears falling towards my ears. His touch repulses me, my body ready to cringe away. With him distracted I clasp my hands together and bring them down harshly to the back of his head. He yelps, trying to rise and grab my hand once again. I hit him again, knocking him aside. He falls to the ground, clasping his temple as I scurry to my feet. He makes a grab for my ankle, missing by a hair as I book it back the way we came.

"You bitch," he growls, stumbling to his feet. I don't bother looking back, running as quickly as I can. His footsteps begin a bit of way behind me but stop after a bit. I can't bring myself to rejoice in his departure, just running till I can't anymore.

The castle appears in the distance, planting a seed of joy in my heart. The sound of hooves stomping behind me squash any potential happiness. My lungs burn and my heart beats fast as I race to the crack in the foundation. Everything fades from vision besides that single skewed entrance. I don't listen to the horse closing in, or the screaming man, I just focus straight ahead.

I can almost feel the horse's breath on the back of my neck. It sending chills up my spine. I slam against the crack in the wall, crouching to crawl through it. As I wedge myself in a hand snatches at my shirt. I chance a glance behind me, seeing the red face of the prince. He pulls, I pull. I wiggle away, gaining no ground till my shirt tears. With the clothing torn off, I manage to get back into the castle.

I run through the halls, huffing and puffing as I speed through familiar territory. The bedroom door is like a holy blessing as it comes into view. I snatch the handle and run into the room. Kodim still lounges in the center of his nest, just now waking up. He groggily looks at me, not getting the situation till I fall against him. I wail, grappling him closer as I finally let myself cry.

"Whoa, whoa," he sits up, curling around me," what's wrong, what happened?" I can't answer yet. I hiccup, rubbing my face against his chest as I take the comfort of his arms around me. He is safe, I repeat in my head, Kodim won't let him take me again. It's hard to calm down as the fear still demands action. That man could be trying to get in right now, that idea makes me hug Kodim tighter.

It takes a good minute for me to collect myself enough to speak, even then it's hard. I sit up, finally looking at him. He meets my eyes, looking away for a second to look at my chest. As his eyes meet mine, he looks angry. Reaching over he grabs a blanket, wrapping it around me before asking.

"What happened, Marie," he growls. Him saying my name is enough for me to understand his ire. In the week that I've known him, he has only said my name once. It's oddly comforting to hear him say it, knowing that his playfulness has left to make way for his seriousness. I'm hurt and he isn't happy about it.

"a knight snuck in," I finally answer," an-and he took me away from here. Then he…then he said some things I didn't agree with. He- I can't." I turn away, too terrified to repeat what happened. The feel of his fingers still lingers on my body. It was all too much, I can't even say it without wanting to cry. I hiccup, sniffling as my body trembles. "Please, I can't," I whimper," I can't."

Kodim holds me against his chest, petting at my hair," it's ok, I get it, you don't have to explain. I just need to know where he is, can you do that for me, princess?"

I nod," I left him near the right-wing. He found a crack in the wall to sneak in and I used it to get back here."

"good job, princess, you did great," he rubs his snout against my head, licking at my tear-stained cheeks," I have to go get him, you ok being alone for a second?" I startle at his request, grabbing at him in a flurry of panic.

"No, no. don't leave me, Kodim, please," I beg, not caring how pathetic I look. He grabs my hands, shushing me.

"it's ok, I won't let him come near you. I'm going to find him and he won't ever hurt you, understand," he asks, I nod," good, just rest in our nest and I'll be right back." I nod again.

He guides me to lay down, tucking pillows and blankets around me. Pressing a rough kiss to my hair he storms out the door, shutting it behind himself before his steps echo down the hall. I try not to think as I snuggle into the blankets and pillows. I try to think back to last night, not believing only hours ago I was truly happy. It was nice being there with Kodim, feeling all warm and fuzzy while I rest against his stomach.

A thunderous roar breaks my thoughts, the present trying to sneak back in. I push it aside, thinking about the long hours we've spent talking in this very room. The conversations about childhood and life, memories, and moments. I like Kodim more than I realized I would. This thought brings a smile to my face.

It's a good while later when the door opens. The stomping beforehand is warning enough. I don't move, just watching him toss a set of armor off the far corner before crawling into the nest. He walks around me, falling behind me with a soft thud. He reaches under the blanket, snaking his arm around my waist. Pulling me against his chest, he curls around me. His tail falls limp over my legs and his breath ghosts over my neck.

"how're you feeling," he mumbles against my head. I grab his hand against my stomach, giving it a squeeze.

"better now," I answer. He hums, leaning down to lick at my shoulder.

"Do you want to go home or stay here, I think it's time for you to have a choice," he bumps his snout against my head. I rub at his fingers, enjoying the warmth.

"I wanna stay here, if that's ok with you," I answer.

He nods," this home is yours as long as you wish. This nest is ours as far as anyone's concerned."

I smile, feeling safe, loved, and cherished at this moment. Shutting my eyes I let myself feel protected. I'm in my nest with my dragon, and everything is going to be ok.

[dadzawa-adopt-dabi]

Level 7 pain skill.

Dabi leaned his head to the side and purred as Hawks sucked on his neck. His eyes closing for a moment before he snapped them open as he felt himself grow slick. Gasping as he felt Hawks erection grind into his own, overwhelmed his hips jerked into Keigo's and then away again. He pushed against Hawks chest and gasped as Hawks gave him one last hickey before pulling back. His arms shook as he held Keigo away and shakily breathed. trying to ground himself as Keigo caught his breath. the rough bricks in the alley scraped against his back, his coat on the ground at his feet and his shirt rucked up. He shivered and growled, head spinning and confused. Dabi snatched his coat up and yanked his shirt down as he skittered back from Hawks.

 "Am I assuming correct that your place is out? we can always head to my apartment of you want to continue this indoors." he looks at Dabi with half lidded eyes and a smirk as he holds out a hand. Dabi stands there, breathing hard and try's to stay here. not remember any other alley's or brick walls he was left broken and bleeding against. He's still slick down between his legs and has a building warmth in him as he swallows hard. Taking the hand, he needs to get out of this alley before the warmth vanishes and he's left here to shiver and puke alone. This is fine, he's fine, Hawks is fine. Dabi's never done this, left a alley with someone like this. Been fucked in apartment in a soft bed by a Hero and a decent person. He'd just been suprised by how turned Hawks made him, how much he actually wanted the Alpha. Weather Hawks used him to get off in a open alley or a love hotel or his apartment didn't matter to Dabi. He supposed Hawks had to be careful about tabloids, which made a little more sense to him. Explains why he would accept Dabi as a option for a one night stand.

Keigo held him close and Dabi got to tuck his face into the soft fur of Hawks flight coat. He was struck with the thought of stealing it for his nest. he didn't need it, didn't have a nest and it wasn't worth risking his safety but it was nice thought. His scent gland itched under his patch and he nibbled at Keigo's to distract himself as his stomach flipped in nerves and motion sickness. He was actually going to do this, have sex with Hawks. No going back once they reached the apartment and Hawks was removing his clothes again. the trembling getting worse as he swallowed hard and he groaned into Hawks neck. Keigo chuckled at the groan and gripped Dabi tighter as they landed on his balcony. Dabi stumbled and leaned against the railing with his eyes closed as he forced himself to stop trembling and stand to face Keigo.

 Mouth still dry despite how often he was swallowing to keep himself from spilling bile and ruining his chances with Hawks tonight. His hand still trembled like a traitor when Hawks helped him out of his coat as they stepped inside.

 "Want something to drink or a snack Dabi? might help settle your stomach?" Hawks asked while going into his kitchen. Dabi snorted a little, Keigo didn't have to whine and dine him. Dabi had been ready to fuck there in that alley for the most part, Hell if Hawks had just kept going it would have been fine. He'd just, been lost for a moment down memory lane. He was fine to just fuck. Find out what it was like in a bed, like he knew it was for some omega's. He squirmed where he was standing and tugged his shirt off. leaving it there on the floor as he grabbed Hawks hand and pulled him in for another mind blowing kiss. kisses like this were nice. The ones inside of clubs were things were discreetly given to him before he ended up out in alley's didn't feel like this. they didn't light him up on the inside and relax him. have him curling into the Alpha as he nibbled at Dabi's broken skin and ran his hands so gently along ribs.

"I'm fine." He muttered and drew breathed in Keigo's relaxing scent. Bright lemon and spruce rolling from him as he stripped out of his own coat and Dabi fumbled with his belt. Hands trembling and watching Hawks abs flex as he tossed the shirt over a couch. It looked comfortable enough anyways if he was let spend the night here. he wondered what he might have smelled like to Keigo. Every love hotel with every person sliding him a scent patch and a few bills  until he'd realized that his scent, whatever it was tended to kill the mood for some Alpha's. Keigo helped Dabi step out of his pants silently and then nuzzled against him as he led him back to Hawks room. Dabi realized he was practically dripping and flushed in embarrassment. He struggled to remember the last time he'd been this ready for sex, this wanting as Keigo laid him on the bed and his hands found their way into Dabi's boxers. Maybe he wanted Dabi to beg before he just gave him what he was waiting for. He pulled Keigo's loose cargo pants down and whimpered as he saw the piercing on the head of his dick. his stomach wasn't even rebelling at him and Keigo filled his mind to the point where no other experiences or alpha's passed his mind. "we match on that one at least, although these? begging for my attention and to see how sensitive you are." Hawks grinned as he pulled back and tugged Dabi's boxers off fully, revealing Dabi's own pierced dick. Hawks threw the boxers on the floor and brushed his hands over Dabi's pierced hip dermals before tugging the hoops through his nipples lightly. Dabi's back arched and he croaked out a bitten off sound as his dick kicked, red and begging for attention. Right alongside his glistening entrance, Keigo stuck two of his fingers in him and curled them, making Dabi see stars as he struggled to keep his noises to himself. he didn't know what he'd sound like, Hawks was very quickly proving this was different than anything else he'd done. he'd rather not risk ruining the mood with some new weak sound he could feel in his throat. he covered his mouth and Keigo grinned devilishly at him. bending down and sticking his tongue in Dabi to taste his slick. Dabi's legs kicked out, overwhelmed, and Keigo chuckled at the reaction and the desperate confused tears building in Dabi's eyes. He grabbed Keigo's bicep and tugged upwards, sealing their mouths together and letting out a practiced breathy plea as he grabbed Keigo's dick. Lining him up and trying not to tense as he braced himself. it always hurt at first, always stung as he was rammed into and used. Keigo kissed his neck and nibbled at his jaw as Dabi closed his eyes. Keigo slid in, painless and lighting up nerves in pure pleasure. Dabi moaned under his hand as he arched into Hawks tears leaking through his eyes.

 "let me hear you Omega." Hawks asked softly and Dabi was flinging his hand away to hold on to Hawks instead. He squirmed under him, unsure what he was supposed to do and tilting his head back as his hips jerked. Keigo smiled into his skin as he eased himself out before rocking back in and Dabi keened as he gribbed him with white knuckles.

 "you can just let me do all the work if you want." Dabi shook his head and continued squirming beneath Hawks, breath stolen away by how good everything felt and how it continued building in a speeding crescendo. Overwhelming him as he tried to commit it to memory. He didn't want to ride Keigo, he wanted to stay just like this with Hawks heavier form above him. Blanketing him and making him feel warm. his hips moved upwards at some point when Hawks ground back down and into him and he shattered. seeing white as he tipped his head back and a hoarse shout escaped him. Hips continuing to move after he'd come and Keigo made a surprised noise at him. pausing for a moment until Dabi let out a strange pleading sound and pulled him in for a kiss. Hawks pulled back once and Dabi gasped at the empty feeling before Hawks was continuing again.

Dabi groaned and twisted his hips up. trying to imitate the motion that had felt so mind numblingly good. most alpha's preferred if he just laid there but Keigo didn't snap at him or growl or even so much as latch on to his scared neck. He just let Dabi wrap himself around him and wiped at the tears flowing out of his eyes. he kept rolling his hips up in that motion, Keigo sometimes helping him. He sealed his mouth over Hawks when he felt his knot swelling, starting to catch on his rim. it didn't hurt, he was too slicked up and turned on to feel anything but pleasantly full and the most content he had ever been. a long flat whine leaving him as Keigo's knot got stuck on his entrance and Keigo slowly grinded into him until the ring of muscle gave and he popped in. Dabi let his jaw drop as Keigo made short aborted thrusts and started playing with his nipple rings again. Hawks knot fully swelling and rendering him incapable of thrusting anymore with that small bead of his piercing right up against Dabi's prostate. It threw Dabi over the edge of his second orgasm and he clenched almost to the point of pain on Keigo's knot as he pumped cum into. Keigo flipping them over, easily lifting Dabi's weight as he tried to focus and failed with his limbs twitching in overstimulation.

 He shook threw the orgasm before he raised his head enough to look at Keigo, who had been holding his head in the crook of his neck and rubbing along his spine. Fingers dancing over each sharp vertebra and the scent calming him down. he drowsily nibbled along the bottom of Hawks jaw, kissing the hollow of his throat as his chest rumbled and Keigo's dick twitched inside of him. he whimpered before he could stop himself and Keigo turned his head to kiss him. petting his hair and giving him such slow lazy kisses that Dabi fell asleep right there. He'd never get this again, but for one night he'd gotten to actually enjoy sex. A hero of all people had seen him through it as well.

 This was fine, right?

 "Dabi?" Hawks asked softly. head tilted in confusion as Dabi rushed out and grabbed his coat off the balcony before continuing down the fire escape, he skipped the last few steps, wanting to get away from the apartment and the strange alpha who'd been different. not just said he could be, but actually was. He felt a glob of cum and slick leak out of him into his boxers as he ran and a sob ripped itself free from him. Dabi had to stop and lean against a building to let the sobs work themselves out until he could stop. Hawks hadn't hurt him, nothing had hurt and he'd wanted it. he'd cum twice and Keigo had held him as he purred himself to sleep on his knot. now he was running away and sobbing hard against a building as the sun rose. what was wrong with him? it was just sex. sex that didn't even make him feel sick to his stomach so why was he so upset over it? he slid down the wall and let his head rest against his knee's until he calmed down enough to call kuroguri for a pick up.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, slips off Keigo's dick. it made a wet noise as it had slipped out and just like that, the bubble popped. Dabi felt his pressure behind his eyes with tears he refused to spill. what had he been thinking last night, the usual shame and regret twisting his stomach. he felt sticky and his eyes were crusty with dried tears he brushed away. he scrambled off the bed and was slipping on his shirt as Keigo woke up, coming over to him right as he looked over his shoulder and met Hawks golden eyes with his own panicked ones.

"Dabi? what time is it? are you hurt? are you drunk, where are you? are you alright, i can hear someone crying. do you mind moving someplace quieter so i can hear you?" the mist man opened on the first ring and Dabi started sobbing all over again. what would he even say? 'hey i got fucked really really well and it felt nice so now i’m sobbing like there's anything that hasn't already been done to me and calling you at a god awful hour? please don't be mad?'

"I. im. I." Dabi couldn't get a grip. Despite Kuroguri's calm questioning as the sounds of getting dressed came through the phone. he sobbed again, let his chest heave with it and his head ache until he could finally take a break and speak. "I'm. I'm sorry to wake you." he muttered quietly with his eyes closed tight.  a begging crying whine escaped him before he could stop it when he realized Kuroguri hadn't hung up during his episode.

 "Dabi. we can take care of anything, i just need to know where you are. I can sleep when I'm dead." Kuroguri almost sounded panicked and Dabi didn't know how to react to that. apologizing again and again until a pair of beatup tennis shoes came into view and the smell of ciggerates and cloves mixed with ginger accompanying them. Twice crouched down and gently took the phone from Dabi's hands as he apologized and then turned away to dry heave. stomach rolling and clenching on nothing and flinching at nothing.

 "Hey, I've got him. He's pretty bad off to be honest. see you soon." Jin reached out and waited until Dabi stopped puking to touch his shoulder.

"It's alright Dabi, just me. Can i help you get back to base? take care of you there, that sound good?" Dabi nodded and managed to uncurl himself enough to attempt to wobbely stand, His legs gave out and Jin caught him. scooping his thin body up and every muscle freezing when he got a wiff of the scent covering him and the wet patch on Dabi's pants.

 "no. he. i. it didn't hurt. I. wanted, not. i'm just broken. "Dabi gripped jins sweater tightly and shook his head. Jin frowned but let himself relax a little as he cradled Dabi and walked a few blocks down to where a purple swirling warp gate was waiting for them.

{part1/5}

[redqueen-hypothesis]

quarantime together ➳ mlqc

➳ WORD COUNT: 3064

➳ GENRE: fluff

➳ SYNOPSIS: what are the two of you up to during the quarantine together?

LUCIEN // has a shady history with viruses and flus

lucien has insider info on the virus as one of the most acclaimed researchers (although he’s a neuroscientist but at this point what is lucien), so he’s long prepared for the lockdown before loveland even gets a wind of it happening

he’s part of the team that’s doing research on the virus too, just... remote

did you think that just because he’s staying at home, there’s no more work to be done? no, the man works just as intensely as ever, researching, inputting algorithms, double checking the data on his research reports. you need to remind him to take a break every few hours

you’ve asked him to set an alarm on his phone but all he does is smile and wrap his arms around you tighter, saying that you’re much more pleasant and persuasive to listen to

knows you’re stressed about the virus and shares with you tidbits of information about it, explaining to you how the two of you should be fine just as long as you stay inside your apartment. together.

you get to see him in his glasses more often, which you find far too attractive when paired with that silently intense gaze he wears while buried deep in work. he looks up on occasion to catch you staring with far too wide eyes. caught red handed (or red faced)

what you don’t realise is that he’s watching you too, he’s just faster at looking away before you realise he’s looking at you with an impossibly tender gaze

when you whine a little about wanting to take this opportunity to spend more time with him, lucien doesn’t show it on his face, but his heart feels like it’s warming- oh, it’s melting in his chest

starts cooking dinner with you

much to your surprise, lucien can’t do everything (no, there’s something he actually can’t do) and cooking is one of them. he’s not fantastic at it, or maybe he’s just doing this on purpose so that you have to guide his hands with your own as he helps to chop the vegetables

leans down for you to tie the apron around his neck, and sneaks a gentle kiss or two when you’re most unprepared for it, much to your surprise (and happiness)

pulls you to him out of the blue and squeezes you around the waist before he releases you, saying the temperature is cold and he needs something to warm him up

in the evenings, the two of you snuggle of the couch together to watch old classic films that you’ve either rented out or dug out on netflix, sharing a blanket between the two of you

lucien engages you in discussion about the shows, from what you love about them to what you think of the characters, and sometimes if you’re lucky, lucien will let you pry just a little bit more about the enigma that he is - you feel like he’s unlocked a door to his heart only when he’s around you

occasional anime marathons, you didn’t think that he’d like them, but he seems to have quite an interest in attack of titan season three and death note

prepare for a psychological analysis of the man that is eren yeager

the two of you talk late into the night, until your discussions become more sleep drunk ramblings than any coherent thoughts, and lucien loves it because you’re so much more open and free about letting him know your opinion so much that he doesn’t realise he’s doing the same

lowkey wondering if he should prolong the virus somehow just so the two of you can remain in this little love nest for a little longer

coaxes you into the bedroom when you fall asleep on his shoulder, tucks you up in the blanket before he resumes his research (honestly, does this man ever sleep?)

if you wake up in the middle of the night to see him still typing away on his laptop, your sleepy voice gently scolding him for not taking care of his own health and the hand tugging at his shoulder is more than enough for him to set down his work for the night and join you in bed

he spends just a little longer watching your sleeping face before he joins you in your dreams

VICTOR // monopoly king

daily panique about the stock market (but he does it elegantly, so it’s panique instead of panic, he’s not emotional like other foolish mortals)

wakes up at the brink of dawn, this man is the head of the loveland financial group, a mere virus isn’t going to bring his company down and he knows that he’ll need to work extra to ensure his workers still have jobs to do

cooks breakfast for you while you’re still asleep while listening to the news on the television, gives you updates when you wake up

if you wake up early to the absence of warmth in your shared bed, however, you might catch the rare sight of the one and only li zeyan humming a tune as he beats eggs in what he thinks is an empty kitchen, or stumble upon him having a staring match with the oven

tries to sneakily slip food and drinks that he knows are good for relaxing the body and mind because you’ve been on edge with each news report of the virus that comes in, you notice the new trend in chamomile tea and dark chocolate, but silently eat it up with a smile and thank him for it - let this awkward man show his love in his ways

extremely busy from morning to afternoon with video conferences and phone calls, you press gentle kisses between his furrowed brow between meetings and watch as his expression relaxes before the phone starts ringing again

make a cup of tea or coffee for him, he appreciates it

there’s one time you kissed him on the mouth thinking he was on break but he wasn’t, and it wasn’t until you realised victor had frozen stiff as a board that it clicked - the entire board of the LFG had been watching through the video camera

you’re never stepping foot into that building ever again

even though he’s ridiculously busy with work, victor makes an effort to spend some time with you throughout his busy day. these usually happen in the fifteen minute to hour long breaks between his meetings

he needs something simple and easy to do with you in those small pockets of time

so, card/board games!

the only game he can play decently at the beginning is poker, but is absolutely terrible at uno and monopoly - he’s never actually played them before

calls these games silly at first, but by the third day he’s actually stopping time before his next meeting starts just so that he can count the reverse uno cards he’s put down and ensure his victory

becomes an absolute beast at monopoly and crushes you completely, you sort of regret teaching him this game because he starts educating you on economic theories

“you must buy as many properties as possible at the beginning, there is no reward without risk... this is the game of monopoly... become the monopoly!”

you just shake your head with a sigh. ah, the menace of capitalism.

he fares worse at monopoly deal, looks absolutely stunned at the idea of a ‘deal breaker’ and ‘just say no’

works out in his apartment gym and occasionally pulls you along, saying that you need to exercise and stay healthy or you’ll become a couch potato

you reluctantly go along with him but you’re rewarded with the sight of him working out, i assure you, it’s very worth it

sometimes you shower together which leads to more... if you get what i mean wink wonk

you help him with dinner prep, which is mainly you watching as he whips up a michelin worthy meal for the two of you

you claim you’re helping with the taste testing

that also leads to more. victor enjoys eating off the kitchen island - and more importantly, he enjoys eating you out on it

opens a bottle of wine or whiskey for sometimes no reason at all at night, just to enjoy it with you

the two of you sit at the balcony overlooking the entirety of loveland city from his penthouse, sipping at your wine and talking about everything and anything

dumb arguments like “you stole the entire pile of fifties when i wasn’t looking earlier???” victor is kind of a sore loser

you take some time out to teach him how to play on the piano, what’s the use of that ridiculously expensive grand piano in his penthouse otherwise?

it takes him two nights to learn simple pieces like “ode to joy” and three for “you are my sunshine”, he hasn’t touched the piano for a few years

the eager, almost child-like determination he wears on his face makes your heart warm as he fumbles to place his fingers on the right keys, and you play simple duets together

bedtime snuggles, victor cancels all his late night meetings or postpones them to earlier schedules so that he can hold you close in bed at night

realises what he’s been missing out the entire time and can’t believe that it needed the quarantine to let him know how much he loves falling asleep with you in his arms

resolves to do this more often after the lockdown is over

GAVIN // keep the fire station on speed dial

the entire of loveland city is under lockdown but unfortunately crimes are still happening - the criminals must not have gotten their stay at home notices

even though crime rates have dipped, there are still strange occurrences happening in the city here and there

the police force is still an essential service, and gavin is called out of the blue at the most awkward hours (when you’re eating, when you’re sleeping, when you’re having sex-) to handle high profile cases

you fuss about him while he’s rushing to change into his uniform, securing a mask on his face with a quick kiss to the lips before you put it on to hide his blushing cheeks

never uses the door, just straight up jumps out of your window like a cat burglar running off with your heart

you’re always worried, but gavin reassures you he’ll take care of himself and stay away from people on the ground - he can’t risk getting infected and passing it on to you

buys takeaway snacks and boba for you because he knows you’ve missed them

crashes on the couch if he comes back at odd hours because he’s too tired to get to the bed, wakes up to a blanket draped over him and the smell of frying eggs wafting over from the kitchen

at first he’s a little at a loss for what to do with so much free time, but you encourage him to pick up old hobbies he’s long forgotten about by asking him to share them with you

wii games!! nintendo switch!! xbox!! you’ve never seen gavin’s face light up so fast when he delivers a critical hit to your character in super smash bros... and immediately starts spluttering apologies to you like he’s committed a cardinal sin

kiss him to shut him up, and he sinks into it with a muffled sigh. poor birdcop needs a break

he misses his boxing gym, and the closest thing you two get to that are pillow fights, although he’s careful not to use too much strength as he gently bats you with a cushion

you always end up winning since he’s too soft to hit you with very much effort

tries to pick up ‘home cooking 101′ and searches youtube for asmr cooking videos

watches them so intensely you’re a little bit intimidated by the sharpness of his gaze (it’s a cooking video on how to make lemonade, for god’s sake)

peaceful cuisine and nino’s home are his go to channels

more often than not his solo attempts in the kitchen end up in disaster and you wonder whether it would be safer to have a fire extinguisher in the house. gavin wholeheartedly agrees as he rushes to slam the lid over the frying pan of flaming oil

he’s more at ease carrying out critically dangerous missions than turning on the stove, and flinches whenever the spark igniter sets the gas alight - this is why he sticks with instant noodles and cup rice

you offer to teach him, however, and he’s hard pressed to turn you down when you look at him light that

he’s good at kneading dough! it’s one of his only talents in the kitchen, but he’s very good at it. it also gives you a chance to salivate over those forearms, i mean, that tasty, tasty dough!

can make a mean soy sauce egg fried rice, but that’s about the only thing he can make

takes this time to fix up his motorcycle and make some improvements on it, but is kind of sad because he can’t go for a spin. he misses being on his bike

the plus side of this quarantine though, is that he can reach for you any time he has the urge to embrace you or feel you, and that is many, many times in a day

at first he was a little shy and awkward about it, but when you told him that you appreciate him being forward about what he wants, he’s become a lot more comfortable with initiating contact

pulls you into his lap for random cuddles, brushes your hair back to give the shell of your ear a light kiss, squeezes your hands when you’ve spent a long time drafting up plans for shows to make once the quarantine is over

has some uh... pent up energy that he needs to release without the adrenaline rush of the missions he’s used to

translates well to gavin being more dominant and vocal in the bedroom, something you’re very appreciative of. you hope gavin knows that as much as your neighbors surely do by now

braids your hair just for fun when the two of you are lying in bed with nothing to do

wraps his arms around you tight

KIRO // screaming into the unknown at the skyscrapers in the distance

is going crazy with cabin fever

he wants to go to the park!! he wants to feel the sun on his face!! his favourite food festival is cancelled!! he was really looking forward to seeing it with you :(

pouts for days, but is magically alright if you kiss him

“maybe that’s your power, ms chips! give me another kiss to make sure!”

wakes you in the morning (unintentionally) with his vocal exercises. you blink open your eyes to see him standing at the balcony with his hands on his hips and singing chromatic scales or practice songs to the other apartment blocks

sometimes someone shouts back if he starts too early in the morning and he retreats inside sheepishly

they’re getting a free kiro concert

it’s like having your own personal rooster/alarm clock, but his voice is so angelic you can’t be blamed for falling back asleep

brought his cat, cello, back to your shared apartment to take care of since he can’t just leave cello in the studio with the quarantine going on

you spend lazy afternoons as cat parents, putting gacha outfits on the cat and filming stories for kiro to put up on tik tok and instagram

#celloathome trends on twitter

weekly check ins with savin to say ‘yes, kiro isn’t only eating junk food’, ‘yes, kiro is doing vocal practices every day’, ‘you’re sure you’re not snacking on everything in the apartment?’

he is eating snacks that you’ve stocked up on but reminds himself not to eat too much since he’s not exercising as much anymore

teaches you the choreography to his favourite songs!

you’re lagging far far behind him in terms of skill and coordination but he praises you and cheers you on anyway

on the slow ballad tracks on his albums, he’ll pull you close and just sway with you along to the beat, pressing his lips to your hair

this little ball of sunshine wants the sun!! he needs to recharge on that good ol’ vitamin d, so he hangs out at a sunny spot on the balcony - more often than not you’ll find him napping on there, legs propped up on the balustrade and arm shielding his eyes from the sun

plays a lot of online multiplayer games such as DOTA, World of Warcraft and LOL, roping you along to play on his team. it doesn’t matter how bad you are at them, he wants you with him. he enjoys playing as the damage dealer with stealth abilities, and does ridiculously low baritones or high pitched simpers to hide his identity online.

plays the guitar to serenade you, but the difference is that he’s on the balcony begging forgiveness because you locked him out for making a mess of the kitchen in his snack raid

scrolls through social media constantly to update his fans about how he’s doing at home, and is very up to date with the trends on twitter like dance challenges

participates in every single one of them and makes you film them for him, but he’s so funny your hands shake with every take and the two of you have to try over and over again

livestreams!! concerts from home!!

let’s you dye his hair when you’re bored. pink mohawk? he rocks it. black curls? he looks stunning. silver dye?

“ahh, no, no i don’t want to look like an old man,” kiro laughs as he pulls the tube of hair colouring away from you as you pout. you find it in the trash a few days later.

kiro gets frisky when he’s bored, hands wandering over your hips and up your shirt when you’re unaware. sometimes you smack them away, sometimes you don’t

the two of you sleep at the strangest times, ranging from ten at night when you’re bored with nothing to do or four in the morning when the two of you binge movie series

this can’t be healthy but kiro’s smile makes it all worth it as he munches on microwaved popcorn next to you. it tastes like salted styrofoam but kiro takes what he can get - beggars can’t be choosers

he can’t wait to get back to work and seeing his beloved fans once again, but part of him doesn’t want to give up the peaceful lull of this simple, domestic lifestyle in which the world revolves only around the two of you

[carrotycake]

the world put you in front of me (and we aligned)

A chance encounter at an Ishgardian dance, and Ysayle finds herself falling in love all over again.

4.1k words | Rated M | FFXIV | Estinien/Ysayle pairing | AO3

*

It’s funny, Ysayle thinks. She has spent so much of her life fighting and despising everything the nation of Ishgard stood for, that to be standing here, on the balcony of one of Ishgard’s largest manors, feels a tad hypocritical. For the first time, she appreciates the beauty of the land stretching out in front of her, the late-night sunset (which is as close to a summer as Coerthas gets) casting orange and pink hues across the grey pointed spires of the city itself. She rests her arms on the balustrade, observing the chatter of guests down below. It is oddly peaceful, despite her protestations at being invited in the first place. And still bitterly cold, of course, despite it being summer. Ysayle, shivering, rubs her hands together in an attempt to warm herself up; she had left her coat inside and the thin fabric of her gown was not nearly enough to ward off the freezing night air.

She sighs, her breath exhaling into a cloud of mist in front of her. Had she not gone by the name ‘Iceheart’ for years, revered by her heretic followers? She had survived many harsh Coerthas winters, only for her to shiver now at the merest hint of a breeze. Admittedly, she had found the warmth of the ballroom inside to be a little much, packed as it was with nobles, commoners, and politicians alike. The fresh air, cold as it was, was extremely welcome.

It was Aymeric, of course, that was behind the ball, and her invite to it – the Warrior of Light’s dear friend, and perhaps the most influential man in the city. Endlessly charming, he had persuaded her that it was an olive branch, of sorts, to mend the rifts between heretics and men. And – well, she had wanted to make amends. Lead those who walked after, and all that.

“Out here enjoying the festivities, I see?”

A familiar voice drags her from her thoughts, and she turns to see the tall, lithe body of Estinien crouching carefully on the gables above the double doors leading back into the ballroom. She frowns, irritated that he had caught her unawares in a moment of introspection.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

He shrugs, getting to his feet and gracefully hopping onto the ground beside her; ever the dragoon, she notes. He’s not in the armour he wore the last time they had seen each other, before Azys Lla. Like Ysayle, he is dressed in an approximation of Ishgardian formal wear, his long white hair tied in a loose half-ponytail. He’s handsome, her mind helpfully supplies, and she wills the thought away before it becomes trouble.

“Long enough,” he replies, leaning on the railing a fulm or two away from her, his gaze distant. He frowns. “Formal…balls aren’t really my thing. I needed some air. And – a break from drunk nobles trying to get me to dance with their offspring.”

Ysayle chuckles, despite herself. “I must admit, I did not recognise you at first. You clean up well, when you’re not head to toe in dragon blood.”

He bows his head. If Ysayle is not mistaken, she sees the hint of a blush colour his pale cheeks.

“Well,” he mutters, “You are the opposite, Iceheart. I believe there was not a soul in that room that did not notice you upon entering.”

She raises an eyebrow. “In a good way, or a bad way? Pray, do elaborate.”

Estinien splutters for a second. “Well, I – It is a nice dress. That is all I meant. No doubt the haberdashers will be inundated with requests for similar styles by tomorrow morning.”

A slightly backhanded compliment, but a compliment, nonetheless. “Damned by faint praise, I see.”

She turns to look back towards the sunset. “It is actually one of Tataru’s creations, so they’ll have a hard time prying the pattern from her little hands.”

Tataru had taken over creative control of this project, because formal dances were certainly not Ysayle’s area of expertise, and the Lalafell had been only too happy to help out. The light, drapey cerulean fabric of the dress belied the traditional Ishgardian style, but Ysayle had never cared much for tradition anyway. It was pinned and tucked beautifully, with embroidered details on the neckline and hem. It even – scandalously – showed off a little cleavage, something Ysayle wasn’t necessarily unhappy with.

They stand like that together, a little distance apart, for a few minutes; enjoying the last rays of the sun in what appears to be a companionable silence. How many times had they done this, a mere few months ago? Accompanied by Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light, of course, but together nonetheless. Sunsets always seemed even more spectacular when seen on islands beyond the clouds. Ysayle had never thought to see such beauty again in her lifetime; she had expected to die on Azys Lla, one last act of service as Shiva.

The gods, as it happened, must have had other plans, as she’d fallen from that great height and landed in the middle of a Vanu Vanu outpost; the last remnants of Shiva’s protection shielding her from further harm in the fall. Word had gotten back to Camp Cloudtop of her survival, and she had eventually woken in the infirmary in the centre of Ishgard. Mere days after her own discharge, and Estinien was staying there under the very same care as she had.

She had avoided visiting, though, despite Alphinaud’s almost-insistence that she do so. She had never thought this far ahead in life; now there was peace, real peace, and her old role was no longer needed. Lord Aymeric, introduced through the Warrior of Light, had requested her help in rehabilitating the remaining heretics and repairing the city in exchange for a pardon for her crimes, and she was not about to turn down such an offer. The Scions had allies, and she herself was still blessed with Hydaelyn’s gift, so she might as well make herself useful.

In quieter moments, however, her mind always drifted back to Estinien. She admitted to being a little disappointed when he disappeared from Ishgard without a trace after his recuperation; the small, naïve girl within her longed to believe that they could have been…something, more than just acquaintances passing in the night.

“You are deep in thought, my lady,” he says, a statement more than a question. Ever with the formalities, even when they were at each other’s throats with opposite ideals.

She shakes her head. “Just reminiscing. My life has taken on a trajectory I could not have anticipated before I had met you and your allies. I have much to be grateful for.”

“I admit, I was – glad to hear you had lived. My own fortunes were, you could say, not so lucky after our victory on Azys Lla. I did not hear about – you – until after I had awoken in the infirmary.” Estinien looked – embarrassed, perhaps? Ysayle could not tell, in the dim light of the evening.

“I-” He falters, swallowing. “I wanted to apologise. For things I have said. Knowing now the full truth of the war betwixt man and dragon, I – I said some unkind things. ‘Twas not your fault that I was ignorant.”

Ysayle takes a moment to think on his words. They were not the people they once were, after all. The truth, she thinks, has changed them both. She looks at him, then – he does not shy away from her eye contact – and nods.

“Apology accepted. For what it’s worth, I have a great deal to apologise for as well. My conscience is not clear, by any means.”

Estinien cracks a small smile. (She tries not to think that a smile suits him. It really does.)

“Aye, that is true.”

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted by a change of music from the ballroom – a slightly faster tune, reminiscent of folk tunes Ysayle heard as a child at communal dances in Falcon’s Nest. It was clearly designed to bring more couples onto the dance floor, and was so far having the intended effect. Ysayle could see the Warrior of Light, dressed in finery (another of Tataru’s creations), swinging Alphinaud a little too fast round in circles on the dancefloor. Aymeric could be seen, too, dancing politely with Hilda; commoners and nobles alike danced merrily to the band’s music. If this was their new republic, Ysayle thinks, then she quite likes it.

It is this train of thought that compels Ysayle with more bravado than she has; not thinking about where it might lead, she turns to her brooding companion.

“Well, when all is said and done-” She holds out a hand to Estinien, “Care for a dance?”

His brow furrows. “I’ve never- I mean. Forgive me, Ysayle. I’m not much of a dancer.”

She smiles lightly. “Neither am I. But we are alone, for the time being. Indulge me.”

“As you wish,” he frowns, still a tad reluctant, but he takes her outstretched hand regardless and pulls her close and Ysayle thinks, oh.

Oh no.

It has been a long time since she has been this close, physically, with anyone, and she wonders if Estinien can feel her heart thudding loudly in her chest. They stumble at first, taking a few attempts to figure out the rhythm of the song versus the clumsiness of their feet, but eventually settle into a gentle waltz.

Ysayle is acutely aware of the position of Estinien’s hand on the small of her back; its warmth – and he is so warm – practically burning through her dress. They are closer than they need to be, exactly, for the formality of ballroom dance, but Ysayle finds that she does not mind. He is avoiding her eyes now (deliberately, she thinks), so she instead concentrates on the position of her hand on his shoulder, her other hand clasped tightly in his as they circle aimlessly together across the balcony.

“So,” he begins, uncertainly, once they’d found their rhythm, “Where did you learn to dance, then? You seem to have more of a head for it than I.”

Ysayle smiles. “A little, as a child. And we had plenty of impromptu dances when I was-” When I was with the heretics¸ she would have said. Another time, in another life. Estinien, evidently noticing her hesitation, raises an eyebrow.

“Forgive me, my lady, but I simply cannot imagine a band of heretics indulging in such trivial things as dances whilst plotting the fall of Ishgard.”

“You are a fool, then, if you believe that we did nothing but sit around and curse the Holy See whilst getting drunk on dragon’s blood,” Ysayle scowls, swinging Estinien round a little more forcibly than she had intended. He stumbles, a little, before righting himself.

“I did not give much thought to the heretics unless they were forcibly attacking the city,” Estinien says, his tone serious, but the quiet glint in his eyes relaying a certain kind of humour. Ysayle rolls her eyes. He always knew exactly how to push her buttons to get her riled up when they were travelling together, and it seems not much has changed.

“I’ll have you know,” she huffs, “Lord Aymeric himself requested my assistance in restoring the city-”

“To avoid a jail sentence, yes,” Estinien has an eyebrow raised, smirking. He positions his arms just so, allowing her to dip backwards as part of the dance. His arms are secure, holding her in place perfectly before swooping her back up. They continue their circles together, Estinien chuckling at Ysayle’s irritation.

“For someone of little skill, you have picked up this dance remarkably fast,” she comments, her face flushed – from the exertion of the dance, or from Estinien’s attention, she was yet unsure.

“I’m a fast learner,” he says, and was it her imagination or was he a little closer to her than before? He stares resolutely ahead, his expression faintly jovial, and Ysayle tries not think about how good his arms felt holding her up.

The upbeat song currently playing comes to a close and, after a brief interlude, a new one starts up, slower than the previous one. Adjusting their pace accordingly, she thinks back a few months to their expedition together. Gods, she had not cared for the dragoon upon first meeting him. He was narrow-minded, and brash, and had been all-too willing to fight and kill the very creatures they were trying to make their allies without a second thought.

And yet – she had grown to like him, over those many days travelling. At first, the attraction had been purely physical. He was handsome, after all, and Ysayle had caught a peek of him removing his armour to see chiselled muscles and a wiry frame; something inside of her had fluttered, momentarily, when he had removed his helmet in front of her for the first time, revealing uncharacteristically soft, fair hair and deep-set blue eyes.

“Don’t get used to this,” he’d muttered, noticing her looking at him. “I can’t eat your soup with a helmet on.”

She’d blushed, then, almost as much as she was surely blushing now.

Even with Estinien’s growing connection to the Eye of Nidhogg – she’d felt it, creeping, growing, gnawing at him even as they travelled together – and his insistence that killing the wyrm was the best solution, she had caught glimpses of a kinder man underneath his harsh determination. Alphinaud had seen it too, as had the Warrior of Light. It endeared him to her, whether she wanted it to or not. And in the long weeks that had followed her miraculous survival, there had been much time for her to dwell on these thoughts.

Halone’s tits, she was in it now, wasn’t she?

It occurs to Ysayle, just then, that the slow pace of the current song meant that their little, secluded waltz had become less of a dance and more just – swaying gently, endlessly circling, not really paying attention to any kind of rhythm. The whole world, for a second, felt like it was just the two of them, the stars aligning to bring them together in a single moment.

“Your hands are cold,” Estinien murmurs, and she forgets for a moment that she still had one of his hands in hers. Usually a woman of great eloquence, she suddenly finds she is tongue-tied, she cannot speak-

“Y-yes, well. Perhaps it is you that is warm,” she whispers, her breath hitching in her throat as he brings her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. He almost seems surprised at his own boldness, his eyes crinkling in a rare bit of humour at her response.

“Mayhap,” he replies. The night is almost completely upon them now, the only light illuminating their faces being the candlelight from the outside lanterns and the ballroom itself. Their eyes meet, Estinien’s expression unusually soft.

Ysayle is not sure who makes the first move but suddenly his lips are on hers, her arms snaking around his neck, his hands on her hips, guiding them in a new kind of dance. In the end, it does not matter, because she is kissing him, and it is suddenly all she can think about. How long had she thought of this moment? How long had she imagined what Estinien’s kiss would feel like? It was, in truth, longer than she would care to admit.

He kisses with the air of someone who does not have a huge amount of practice, but makes up for whatever experience he lacks with strong, guiding hands; Ysayle soon finds herself pressed up against the iron railings of the balcony, the coldness of the metal on her back in sharp contrast to Estinien’s warm embrace. She feels goosebumps on Estinien’s neck where she is touching him; – yes, her hands are always cold, so cold – she moves a hand round to his lapel, using it to anchor herself to him and pull him closer, ever closer.

They break apart to catch their breath, and she looks up at his face, flushed as red as she’d ever seen it, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Do you, perchance, have a residence in Ishgard, Ysayle?” he breathes, still so close to her. Ysayle knows where this is going, knows where this might end up. And she wants it, Halone knows she does.

“That depends,” she says, curling a lock of his hair around her finger. Estinien exhales, almost impatient.

“On?”

Ysayle pulls away, just enough to see his face fully. “Is this…something you want? Truly?” Am I someone you want? She doesn’t say it, but the words settle between them anyway.

He frowns, a trademark scowl, and grasps the hand currently playing with his hair.

“It is. I am not one to deliver undue suffering to a soul such as yourself. And-” He looks flustered, struggling to articulate, “-this is something I have thought about often. In times of difficulty. The possibility of…something more.”

Oh.

“Well then,” she murmurs, his answer more than satisfactory, “In that case, I have a small apartment in the lower wards of the city.”

“I would very much like to get out of here,” Estinien replies, pressing a kiss to her cheek, another along her jawline. She lets her nails scratch the back of his head, just a little, privately enjoying the effect it seems to have on him.

“If you would permit me, my lady-” He breaks away suddenly, a spark of mischief in his eyes, and scoops her up bridal-style. She splutters, wriggling.

“What are you doing?!”

He peers over the edge of the balcony cautiously. “Avoiding any odd stares we might receive from my good friend’s guests. Now, hold still.”

Before Ysayle has any chance to protest, Estinien bends his knees and leaps, and Ysayle’s heart is rushing, the wind howling in her ears momentarily, and it is not far off what a dragon in flight feels like-

He lands, gracefully, some distance away from the mansion, and places her back on her feet with an uncharacteristic amount of care.

Hand in hand, she leads him through the lamp-lit streets, following well-worn paths to the lower area of Ishgard. More than once he catches her against a wall in a bruising kiss, so the walk takes considerably longer than it normally might on one’s own, but Ysayle is too busy wrapped up in Estinien’s arms to care.

The night is fully upon them now, so upon reaching Ysayle’s apartment there is a small amount of stumbling in the dark until she manages to find a lantern. Estinien, helpful as ever, is predictably distracting as she reaches for a pack of matches, hindered by his hands on her waist as he caresses her from behind.

“You know a lantern isn’t really necessary,” he growls, apparently eager. She rolls her eyes – realises too late that it was a gesture he could not see – and bats him away, momentarily.

“I don’t know about you,” she retorts, “But I like to see my lovers when I’m in bed with them.” She manages to strike a small flame into the lantern, illuminating them both in dim, soft candlelight.

Estinien raises an eyebrow, tailing after her as she leads him to the bedroom. “And has the Lady Iceheart had many lovers, in the past?”

She places the lantern down on the chest of drawers with a thunk. “A few. Borne out of convenience, mostly. Some out of love. All enjoyable, for the most part.”

It might have been a cold way of looking at it, but her time leading the heretics had come with its perks, namely that there was no shortage of people interested in her and her powers. She would never have dared manipulate anyone into sex or abuse her power in any way, but she had not been without company, had she so wanted it.  

“And what about the famed Azure Dragoon?” she says, her tone a little more defensive than she had intended, “I’m sure the position comes with its own amount of attention.”

“Some,” he concedes, “But for the most part, I preferred to spend my free time training. A few dalliances, here and there. Nothing serious.”

Ysayle nods. Fair enough, she thinks. You’d have to be out of your mind if you actually wanted to sleep with that grouchy, stubborn arse of a dragoon anyway. Yet here she was.

“Well then,” she says, instead, “I still wish for your company tonight, if you’ll have me.”

Estinien is already against her, capturing her mouth in his and lifting her – a little roughly, not that she minds – onto the bed. “I was hoping we would get to that eventually,” he grins, wickedly.

“You’re an arse,” she replies, but there is no heart in the insult, not really. There’s not much time for thinking, after that, and she is happy to lose herself in Estinien’s arms for the time being.

Ysayle wakes from what might have been the most restful night’s sleep she’s had in some time. She casts a sleepy glance over her small apartment; the curtains had been left half-drawn the night previously, and the morning light was casting a bright glare across her bed, and the sleeping souls that lay within.

Ah, right.

Estinien is still sound asleep next to her; they must have moved apart in slumber during the night, but she distinctly remembers falling asleep in his arms. For the first time, she sees him and all of his scars in full daylight, and fights the urge to trace them gently with her fingertips. She settles for brushing his bangs out of his eyes; he is so peaceful in sleep, she thinks, his usual furrowed brow replaced with one of general content.

There are bruises too, newer ones, scattering across his neck and chest. Ysayle blushes, a little, because she knows that she is the one who put them there, and that there are similar marks on her own body. They will be covered with clothes, eventually, but for now they sit as a reminder of newfound passions and a lover she can’t quite forget.

His eyes flutter open, and an immediate scowl crosses his face as he adjusts to the bright light streaming in.

“Gods, do you always wake this early? To this kind of racket?” His voice is raspy with sleep, his long hair a little dishevelled.

She throws him a mock-frown. “Usually I remember to shut the curtains. I might have been…a little distracted last night.” She runs a finger along his jaw, lifting his chin so that she could lean and kiss him. He leans into her touch, a different kind of reverence.

“Ah,” he says, softly, when she pulls away, “Yes, that would make sense.”

Their clothes, haphazardly rumpled on a nearby chair would also suggest a measure of distraction. They had only paused long enough last night for Estinien to peel off Ysayle’s dress and his own clothes and place them somewhere off of the ground before continuing his ministrations.

“I don’t have anywhere to be today,” she says, by way of invitation, unsure as to how her overture would be received now that it was morning. Morning, bringing with it clarity, and the uncertain light of day. Estinien may not want anything more than whatever the previous night had been.

To his credit, though, Estinien reaches for her and brushes a few strands of silver hair behind her ear.

“Me neither,” he says, and Ysayle’s heart thuds in relief, “What activities have you planned? Lunch out, mayhap?”

This elicits a laugh from her, despite herself.

“Mm,” she smiles, “Maybe later. For now, I want you all to myself.”

Estinien responds in kind, using his advantage of strength and centre of balance to hold her firmly by the waist and flip her over, laying on her back.

“That can be arranged.”

His eyes are dark with want, and Ysayle finds that it pleases her greatly to be able to obtain this kind of reaction from him. She wants – well, she wants Estinien. All of him. Now. Obviously.

What she really wants, though, is Estinien for longer. Knowing that they might have something to come back to, a home found in each other’s hearts – the thought terrifies her, as it wasn’t something easily articulated to her stoic lover. Still, she thinks, perhaps in time.

For now, she has the man she wants in her bed, and that is enough.

[saturatedboy]

The Paw of a Lion (Ethan!Winters x Karl!Heisenberg)

This can be found on my AO3 page (Use title name)

Word count: 4.5K

Chapter 2 is below cut

The car journey had been rather unpleasant much to Mr Winter’s taste. He normally wasn’t picky but the scent on the car was hurting him and making him feel slightly sick in the stomach. Was he still panic-stricken? He stared down at Rose in his arms, fast asleep with a monkey toy in her clutch. No. He wouldn’t let himself be scared after the car wreckage he went through, instead he’d brushed it off as simple homesickness since the new home was in a neighbourhood filled with those who he was sure to ‘get along’ with well. ‘We will be home soon Rose.’ The blonde thought, turning his direction of gaze to stare at the passing trees. “How long left?” The question slipped through his lips, waiting for an answer off one of the agents that had taken the unoccupied seats around him. Luckily for him, he got the window seat and he did feel a little smug about it.

“There in 5 minutes Mr Winters.” The driver replied, adjusting the mirror at the front to get a better look at the apparent ‘bio weapon’ that was sitting in his car. Ethan looked to be just a normal guy with a daughter, there was no physical difference to him than any other ordinary guy. Well- except from the fact there was scars littering his body on his arms mostly, and the loss of his fingers.

Clicking his tongue and wetting his lips, Ethan sighed and leaned his head against the window having the same sickness feeling wash over him. He just wanted out, to feel fresh air and the ground and to hear something else than the music the agents were playing. Fortunately for him, the rest of the journey was swift and soon the car had rounded off in between trees that had a large dirt road leading further into the mass of woods that seemed to appear as he was just about to doze off. Having a spiked interest in the change of scenery, Ethan pushed himself of the window and looked about. Tall trees hung overhead, turning their leaves into a range of the sunset colours with small flowers blooming and dying mixed together in the grass that settled among the sides of the track the car was driving on. It looked, dare he say, peaceful. How ironic, having a bunch of bio weapons staying in a peaceful area. This was sure to be no peaceful stay if he was going to be surrounded with neighbours off different kinds.

Driving down the path had led them into a circled area, with buildings surrounding the outside edge. The car drove clockwise around the circle, Ethan looking towards the middle the whole way. There appeared to be a small park area settled there Ethan had guessed in the middle of the whole site. It held three benches, a small climbing frame as well as a set of swings. ‘I’m sure the Dimitrescu daughters will enjoy there,’ The father had thought, looking down at Rose with a smile taking hold of his lips. “And I’m sure you will too when you’re a little older.” Luckily no one heard him talk to his dear daughter as the music was still playing, loudly.

Placing his sight back onto the buildings, he saw a mixture of them. There appeared to be 5 houses in total, and he had a fair guessed of whose house was who. The first house was a very large one, elegantly painted in white with a very tall front door. The place had pillars outside it and it seemed to have a total of three floors. At the top there was a balcony that looked to reach around the whole house. Driving past it, Ethan could see the three daughters and their mother stepping out of the car, Bella being the first to run straight into the home.

The next house was a bungalow, making the house to its left (from Ethan’s view) more towering than it seemed. The house was simple, having brick walls and small round windows. What made the place stand out on its own was the moat that built around it. A fucking moat. “Moreau house,” Ethan mumbled, a small strike of cold shifting down his spine at the thought of when he had to fight him and how the other would be constantly throwing up. Unpleasant memories to put it.

The next house, this was the centre house that was splitting the 5 houses, was a really nice modern blue house, having two floors and a porch. The car had stopped right In front of the front porch and the agents had begun to move out of the car after it was securely parked. “Hey Rose,” Ethan whispered down to his once sleeping daughter, awaken at the call of her name and her father's voice. With grabby hands and a tired smile, she reached out to take hold of her father in any way, shape or form. Carefully unwrapping her from his coat, Ethan took his daughter into his arms and reached to open his door only to have an agent open it for him. He stepped out, nodding a thanks in return and looked towards what appears to be their new home. “Look Rosie, this is out new home. You like the baby blue hm?” He asked, seeing his daughter babble random noises and have pleased eyes. Some on-looking agents that were travelling him had silently cooed at Rose’s reaction, looking towards one another with scrunched eyes and happy smirks on their faces. Placing her on his hips, Ethan walked up to the front porch and looked back to see the view. It wasn’t too bad...he could probably make a living of being here. Looking to his left, he looked towards the other two houses. A frustrated sigh left his lips.

The house to the left was two floors like his own, only difference being it had a garage connected to it and the windows were boarded up. “It seemed Mr Heisenberg doesn’t particularly like the light,” An agent pointed out to Ethan as they caught him staring.

“Makes sense.” Ethan replied back, looking towards the last house. The last house was also a bungalow; however, it had a garden with a fence surrounding it. The fence was a deep brown and the garden had a small tree already growing within its square. “I’m sure Lady Beneviento would be there every day.”

Hearing Rose’s babbling had Ethan brought Ethan to coo at his daughter, bringing her to nest smugly in his arms instead of his hip. Holding her close, Ethan walked up to his door and let the agents open it. Inside the home was fairly empty but he could've guessed that before even entering the place. “We will leave you be. Any supplies needed or anything changing just contact us on the home phone settled in the kitchen. You are not allowed to leave this area unless orders of Redfield have been given out. Welcome to you brand new home.” The agent who had been driving Ethan and his daughter there had spoken, signalling the other agents that had decided to walk in after Ethan back out of the house. Being quick to accept orders, they left Ethan to standing in the open hallway of his house. The car leaving was the last Ethan heard before accepting the silence of the new place.

“What do you think Rose, think we’ll like it here?” His eyes caught the stairway that led straight to the second floor on his right, with two doors on the left in his eye sight. More babbling came from Rose as she tried to give her father an answer which Ethan accepted with a laugh. “Yes, you are right my little cub. We should see what we are working with.”

It had been a total of three hours before Ethan had got himself comfortable in front of the television on the couch. It seemed the whole place was coated in the paint of blue and white. It was a fitting theme Ethan had thought, however he felt Rose’s room should maybe be painted a different colour. Maybe yellow, maybe green- he'll ask for paint when he needed to. So far, the father had discovered there was warm water, heater was working however it seemed to be on a timer, there was a master bedroom and a baby room right next door on the second floor, the kitchen had been stocked with what seemed to be a month worth of food and there was a living room along with a study room that was filled with books from his last home.

Last home.

He spent a while fixing that place up with his wife Mia...Ex-wife Mia. The place was their dream home, something they planned for a while into their marriage and they had finally got it, finally settled down-all for it to be taken away because of lies. Ethan had laid on his back, arm draped over his forehead as he looked up at the ceiling. The material of the couch under him felt perfect, he could doze of there and then but until he had a baby monitor, he wouldn't be sleeping downstairs until he knew he could be there for Rose in her need. Without realising it, the father had begun to voice out his thoughts to no one but the empty sound of his home.

“I wonder how she is- ha! What am I thinking? She’s going to hate the idea of a divorce. She should be thankful I even let her near our daughter after all this shit. She’s one lucky woman.” A ragged breath forcefully came out of his throat startling Ethan. Leaning up, legs sprawled on the other cushions of the couch, he lunched forward and began to cough into his right hand. Closing his eyes, he could feel a thick substance coat his hand as he coughed into it. Making sure he had his breathing under control, he cautiously opened his eyes to find black substance covering his hand. No- not substance. He knew exactly what it was.  Mold was covering his arm. “Oh, for fuck's sake,” He breathed out, swinging his legs so he could stand and go wash the substance off him.  

Whilst making his way to the kitchen at a brisk pace, it had appeared the Mold was growing further up his arm. Raising a brow and having a feel of sickness was over him again, he collided against the edge of the sink and began to turn the taps to run the water over his arm, watching as Mold fell into the drain below. Strange, the Mold wasn’t coming off his skin. It was like it was a part of his skin. Reaching for the wash cloth with his other hand, Ethan scrubbed hard against his skin seeing the Mold not disappearing any time soon. ”What the!” The exclaim that left his lips had him scarping the cloth against his skin, digging in with his nail and scratching away. Nothing. The black oozed more over until his full arm had become a midnight black. “No, no no no,” The words fell onto the deaf ears of the world around him as he collapsed to the floor, tap still rushing with gushing water and his back touching the cabinets that were sitting underneath.

The sickness that rotted over him fell deep into his stomach, twisting and playing with his intestines. A few dry coughs sent Ethan to feel a lot warmer than normal. He felt like the room he had settled in, the kitchen, had become as hot as the oven that was switched off. His sight became blurred, and the noise of his child was heard faintly in the back of his head. “Rose,” He breathed out, tears stinging his eyes as he let his head fall onto his shoulder. "I need to calm down Rose,” he told himself, as though the Mold covering him could understand him. He could feel it growing, taking his limbs into their own care and covering the skin of his with a protected layer of their own. Weirdly though, it seemed to only cover his arm and the top of his chest. Was this a good thing, or a bad thing? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to hold his young one, to make sure she knows she is safe.

The cries from the baby had increased, sounding more like a tantrum then just a sadness cry. Ethan pulled his legs to his stomach, trying to steady his breathing and clear his sight of the tears that leaked. It wasn’t till he felt the Mold settle down that he could finally move without feeling like spewing whatever food he last ate. Noticing the change of temperature around him, it being settled to a warm but slightly chilly feeling, he made a quick dash for the stairs that were in the open hallway. He moved swiftly on his feet, not wanting to take any chances of falling ill to the Mold before he could reach his crying Rose.

Scrambling up the stairs, Ethan had busted into his daughter room startling the child more than she appeared to be. “Aw no baby, I’m sorry,” He softly spoke, hurrying to pick her up out of a white crib she was nestled in and taking her into his arms. Being thoughtful with is movements, Ethan cradled her head with one hand and settled her body onto his other arm that was still covered in the Mold to keep support of her. “I’m sorry. Oh, baby papa is sorry. Shh, shh, It’s okay. We will be okay,” He repeated, cooing into his daughter’s ear to help her slow her own breathing. The small bounces he gave and the cradling movements of his body was luckily enough to help her stop crying, the odd sniffle taking out of her mouth instead. “There we go, we are okay. I’m sorry Rose. Shh, we will be okay.” Little Rose had held tightly onto her father’s clothing, smelling the familiar scent of him. She rested her own eyes, her cries making her tired then she had already been in the car and before. “That’s it,” Ethan whispered, “Just sleep my little cub. I’m here now, papa is here.” His voice had soothed her down greatly, the voice bringing her to sleep once more before she was drifted deeply off into her mind.

A dry cry came from Ethan’s mouth as he placed her back into her crib, pulling a blanket and pushing her money toy close to her sleeping body. He stood over her crib, watching the chest of his daughter fall and rise. She was at peace, something she so should always be at. Being a single father was going to hit Ethan hard, if he was down there dealing with the Mold then who knows what he could be dealing with next. He made a mental note to get baby monitors for every single room.

It had been another 4 hours before a knock had awoken Ethan from his lightly sleep. He groggily opened his eyes and looked around, seeing he was leaning his head on the kitchen table. Next to him was his laptop as well as a cup of what he guessed to be a now cold coffee, untouched either way. Checking his arm, the Mold had disappeared as he slept. It was after he placed Rose to sleep, he had come downstairs to turn the tap off and steal a book from his study to do some more research on engineering. He just wanted a normal life as soon as possible, the memories of his job at engineering brought great pleasure to his mind of living normally, a feeling he was already missing and it had just been over a day since he last felt like it.

Brushing a hand down his face and scuffing up his hair, Ethan pushed himself out from under the table and stood up, hearing his bones cracking the process. The feeling was great but the noise was uncomfortable to his ears. Hearing the knocking again, Ethan groaned loudly and exited his kitchen, still hearing the knocking. “What,” He groaned out loudly, the empty space of the hallway making his voice bounce about. The knocking had stopped for a second, only to repeat again. “Oh, go to Hell,” Ethan shouted, hearing the knocks stop for a second time. Smiling, Ethan made his way to his front door, hand placed around the handle. Just as he was about to pull the door open, the knocking once again started again. “I’m going to fucking kill you- Heisenberg what do you want?” Just as the blonde pulled the door, there stood the factory man with a bright smile and hand raised after his activities of knocking.

“Hey there papa, missed me much?” He amused, flashing a smile at the other. Ethan stood, hand still on his door handle looking down at the gruff man. His appearance looked worse than he last saw him at the meeting. He was now all sweaty with droplets pouring off him like a dripping tap, oil was staining his shirt he wore and his hands had become thick with saw dust. A sigh left Ethan’s lips as he moved himself o rest against his door frame.

“What you need?” Heisenberg blinked at Ethan, before whistling a tune. “If you not going to answer, I’ll be going, Goodbye Heisen-”

“Wait!” The voice from Heisenberg had stopped Ethan's movements of walking back inside. Hating himself for still wanting to feel kind to the other, Ethan looked back at the man who looked desperate to say something, a pleading stance of clasp hands looking up at Ethan had the father feeling a little weak.

“What?” He asked, waiting for Heisenberg's reply.  

“I was wondering...” He started, looking around him as though he didn’t want anyone to hear his next words, “That maybe we should start calling each other by our first names.” The request left Ethan speechless, he stood with furrowed brows trying to read the other. What exactly was he planning?

“First names? Now why would we need to do that?” Ethan crossed his arms over his chest, watching Heisenberg huff and look away.

“Because we are neighbours duh? Makes sense. Does it not.” Ethan would have smacked him if it wasn’t the fact he was somewhat right. Uncrossing his arms and rolling his eyes, Ethan nodded at Heisenberg.

“Alright then, what do I call you and the others?” Heisenberg had immediately brightened up, taking a brave move of turning around and sitting on the porch step.  

“Easy! You can call me Karl,” he said, pointing a hand at himself as he looked over his shoulder to see Ethan shutting the door behind himself. He waited for Ethan to sit, to which he had to pat the open space next to him for the father to do so. After Ethan had made himself comfortable with legs straight out In front of him and sat at an arm's length away from Heisenberg, the other had carried on. “Dimitrescu, you can call her super-mega bitch. Next is Moreau. Just call him ugly. And lastly is Beneviento. Just call her Donna because she is somewhat decent and call that wretched thing that moves and talks, sawdust.”  

Ethan had sniffled back a small chuckle at hearing Heisenberg talk. He’ll get the other’s names later, their proper names when he has the chance. “How about I call you the guy who carries a hammer to compensate for something else.” Heisenberg lightly gasp at Ethan’s words, looking over at him with an open mouth.

“How dare you,” He spoke, expressing his offensives to his words. Ethan couldn’t help but allow himself his release of a laugh, finding the moment rather...amusing to be with the factory man. “I would never take you to by a guy like that...to make jokes.” Heisenberg pulled out a cigar from his pants pocket, only to fetch in his other a lighter. Ethan watched as he lit it, suddenly being annoyed with the habit of seeing the man with one. Leaning over, Ethan plucked the cigar from the man's lips and threw it out on the dirt road in front of them. “Oi, what you do that for,” Heisenberg asked, pointing at his cigar a few meters in front of them.

“I have a child, no smoking in or even near my house.” The air around them both changed slightly, dark clouds overhead had slowly begun to invade the space of the blue that was once there. It seemed the sound around them had soon tried to settle in. “I do enjoy making jokes,” Ethan broke the starting silence between them, wanting to keep this conversation going before the upcoming rainfall would ruin it.

“You should act more like that then- seeing you all stuck up is worse than seeing the tree trunk try think of a new name for her new wine.” The older man groaned out, looking at the other once again.  

“I’m just being careful of my kid. I can’t let her be hurt again.”

“You can still be protective and let go of yourself.” The older flicked open the lighter that he had still had in his hand and placed it between them both. Ethan watched as the flame danced, standing at a reasonable height. “See, the flame is surrounded by the wind yet it will stay standing because it has the fuel to do so. Look, it even follows the movements of the world around it. You have the fuel to protect the squirt.” Heisenberg flicked the top of his lighter back down, stuffing it back into his pants pocket before turning back to the other with a small grin. “And you can still let loose. Even if the wind does pick up,” Heisenberg had moved rapidly, wrapping his arm around the young male’s shoulder and brought him into his side. “I’ll be there to shield it.”

Such words and non-thoughtful actions had brought Ethan to look down at his hands. He could feel the burn of his cheeks and the smile that was pulling on the edge of his lips to raise. This. This was weirdly nice, to know someone was there. But that’s what Mia, Redfield and many others had said to him before in the past. “Promise me,” Ethan breathed out, looking up at Karl. Karl raised a brow and tilted his head slightly.

“Promise what?”

“Promise you’ll always be there. And you can’t break that!” Ethan’s tone caught Karl off guard, to the point he had accidently shifted his arm off Ethan’s shoulder and let it fall to the wood just behind him. He swore he caught a glimpse of guilt flash over Ethan’s eyes before his pupils went back to staring at the darkness of his shades sitting comfortable against his eyes.

“Ethan,“ Karl swallowed deeply, noticed by his adman's apple jumping. He didn’t like promises. Never in his life did he have to promise something to someone else. This was big commitment. ‘Promises don’t break. Ethan trusts me to not break something’ he told himself before sighing into the cold air. Using the arm that was behind Ethan, he pulled it around and took Ethan’s chin into his hand. “I promise I’ll always be there. I’m your neighbour, you ain’t getting rid of me that easily.” He said, laughing as hr watched as dread appeared quickly on Ethan’s face.

“Oh great, looking forward to it,” Ethan had sarcastically said, smacking Karl’s hand away from his face but letting the smile dance across his face. “Thanks though, if you break it, I will not hesitate to ask ‘mega-bitch’ to be there for me.”

“Ey, I said I’ll be there. Anyway, I would do a so much better job than her,” Heisenberg said defensively, huffing and pouting that Ethan would go to her than him. “Just you watch,” He sneered, pointing at the Dimitrescu house in a violent manner, “I’ll be a whole lot better than her.”

Ethan placed his hand on the outstretch hand of the fourth lord, pushing it down gently so it rested between them both n the wooden planks beginning to stain from the rain gathered by the wind. He hadn’t realised he left his hand on top of Heisenberg’s as he spoke, however the other was ecstatic over the fact he felt his hand. “I won’t ask her then. Can’t believe I’m saying this but this your first step of gaining my trust that you want oh so badly,” Ethan teased, looking back to the world in front of them.

“You’ll see. I’ll gain more than just your trust.” Heisenberg peered down at their hands, making sure Ethan didn’t noticed and let out a soft happy hum. This was the first step, he would gain Ethan’s trust and then next, he would gain Ethan’s appreciation. For now, he was fine with this. He looked forward too, after tearing his gaze from their connected hands almost and watched as the rain droplets began to pick up.

“Well,” Ethan was the first to speak, standing up to his feet. Karl pouted at the loss of contact but also stood up, feeling excited on what the father would want to do next. “This has been fun. Now go home.” Or maybe not excited.

“Why? can't I hang here?” Karl pouted, trying to make Ethan feel guilty.  

“You want my trust? Go home and don’t make yourself sick. I suppose you can call me, seemingly they just give out numbers on paper without consent.” Ethan clicked his tongue in annoyance, he was sure Moreau had already tried calling him a total of 5 time today in the space of three house, trying to talk his way of how happy he was Ethan saved them all. If only he could block numbers on the rotary phone.

“Okay fine. But you owe me at least a 2 hour call.”

“You get 30 minutes and that’s it.”

“1 hour call.”

“Don’t push you luck...1 hour and 30 minutes and that’s it.” Karl did a mini-fist pump into the air and nodded eagerly. Ethan chuckled and looked away shaking his head watching as Karl tilted his hat down, a way of saying ‘bye’ to the other and made his way of the porch.

“Good talking with you Ethan! Can’t wait for tonight!” He hollered out over his shoulder as he made his way towards his own home, only turning around hallway to see that the Winter male had disappeared already into his home. Feeling very satisfied with his days' work, and it only being the first day, he looked down at his hand and held it in his other, trying to recreate the feeling of when Ethan had placed his hand on top of his.  

“I really am touched starved.” he said before walking straight into his front door.

[karoiseka]

Starlight

((5.3 Spoilers!! I figured this should take place before the events of 5.4, just... because.  Have a sappy, Happy Starlight story!))

"It's snowing!" G'raha's surprised, yet excited voice carried to where Karo was still buried in a mountain of blankets on the large bed in their suite at the Rising Stones.  He had gotten up to tend to the fire, but the odd light from the windows had called to him, beckoning to view the world transformed by the thick layer of snow that was continuing to pile up.  He stood transfixed by the sight outside, red tail swishing--betraying his emotions as he lifted his right hand to the glass-paneled door leading out to the balcony.  Even though they had made the trek North to Coerthas since he had returned, and there was plenty of snow there, Mor Dhona had not received more than  a light dusting, melting almost as soon as it had fallen.

His braid, messy from sleep, whipped around as he turned to face the bard still in the warmth of the bed.  Karo noticed that he was rubbing his right arm again as he fully turned to face her--she was sure it was a left over habit from when it was solid crystal and almost completely without feeling.  She smiled at him, still not fully awake, watching as he self-consciously stopped and with a calming breath walked back over to the bed to perch on the edge of it.  Leaning over, he cupped her face with his hand, kissing her forehead then lips gently, fingers running along the crystal hair tassels that never left the ends of her braids.

“Happy Starlight, my Star,” G’raha’s voice had dropped to the quiet calm tone, the one sounding closer to when he wore the title Crystal Exarch.  The melding of his two personalities was going well, the older of his memories grounding the enthusiastic youth that had never left the Source.  The joy in being back, and alive, seeped into all of his actions though, making every venture new and wondrous, optimism overflowing.  

"It looks like some gifts have been delivered under the tree," the boyish mischievousness was back in his voice as he continued to play with Karo's hair as she slowly came to full alertness--the Warrior of Light happy to be somewhere that it was unnecessary to do all at once. It had been one thing after another almost consistently since she had joined the Scions, so she reveled in the occasions she could take time to be lazy. It was definitely one of the first Starlights in several years that didn't feel overshadowed by melancholy or missing friends. Leaning into his hand with a small sound of contentment and a murmur of a ‘Happy Starlight’ in return, Karo smiled, her expression matching his.

"Well then, let's see what the Saint of Nymeia has left us!" Wriggling out of the nest of blankets took a few moments, as playfulness on both their parts didn't make for an easy job of it--wrestling and tickling, burning off early morning energy before finally grabbing a blanket to wrap up in and moving down the loft stairs to the main room where the decorations glowed in the early morning light.  Karo rushed the last few steps down, blanket falling to the floor, as her eyes caught one of the waiting gifts, glowing faintly on the table next to the tree.

“Raha!! How?  But--these are from Rak’tika!!” Karo stumbled over the words as she carefully picked up the vase of blue flowers, the same that lit the path to Fanow, now here on the Source in her home.  G’raha beamed at her, his voice full of pride that she obviously liked the gift.

“You may be Feo Ul’s [sapling], but your [branch] still likes to do nice things for you, and being near you, she could hear me call as well.  I remembered how you told me you loved these flowers, and wanted to make sure you had a bouquet.  She enchanted them so they will always smell that sweet and will never wilt.  Her only request is that you don’t forget to call on her.”  Karo had the good grace to look abashed at that, knowing how many times she had frankly forgotten the pact she had with the Fae, or even just in ignorance of how much she could safely call on them.  Taking another whiff of the blooms, Karo placed the vase down on the fireplace mantle, mentaly sending a burst of joy down the connection she shared with the Fae King before clearing her throat and turning with a package in her hands for G’raha.  The paper it was wrapped in was not smooth, or secured well, but it covered the gift adequately.  Holding out to him, her ears dipped and her tail twitched nervously as he closed the distance between them to take the gift from her hands with a smile.

“I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably already heard and researched it all before, but I hoped there would be at least a few insights you hadn’t heard yet,” Karo’s babble had started as G’raha had peeled the paper from the journal he now held in his hands.  The brown leather cover was embossed with the red Star that had caged the ancient primal, and inside was a neatly written account of her personal thoughts and discoveries, including rough sketches of the wonders therein.

“I did my best to remember all we had found about Bahamut when exploring the shards of Dalamud, and I got Alisaie and Alphinaud’s help with some of the details near the end.  There was a lot of Allag technology in there that I haven’t seen elsewhere, and I know I gave a report when we were done, and you might actually remember more than I learned--” G’raha stepped forward closing the distance between them and stopping her rambling with a deep kiss.  Karo froze in place before leaning into him, relaxing and letting her nerves dissipate.  

“It’s amazing,” the scholar beamed at her, holding the tome to the side as he pulled her into a tight embrace.  “No matter what I’ve learned so far, having your first-hand account, along with notes from the twins about what you found there is priceless.  I’m going to enjoy reading this.”  He kissed her forehead as they were so close then looked back down at the book, running a hand across the cover, smiling.  Placing it carefully on the table, they headed back to the little kitchenette for some breakfast before getting ready to head out for the day.

                                                   --K--

Donning their warm Starlight robes (G’raha had received one as a gift this year), they headed down to the main rooms of the Rising Stones, hand in hand as they greeted their friends.  It seemed that the newest Scion wasn’t the only one to receive a home-made robe, as each of Scions were bedecked in a rainbow of colors all of matching Starlight garb.  Tataru in her typical pink was buzzing from group to group, ensuring everyone was fed and happy before the core group headed outside in a fit of energy to help clear Mor Dhona’s streets of the piled snow--especially around the aetheryte right outside their doors. 

The snow was still coming down lightly, sun peeking between the clouds making the whole town sparkle.  Not to anyone's surprise though, when the work was nearly done and the afternoon stretching on, the first snowball was thrown, sparking a heated battle.  No one would admit to starting it, but the group paired off with Alisaie, Y'shtola, Krile, and Karo on one team, Alphinaud, Thancred, G'raha and Uriangier  rounding out the second. 

The mock battle lasted several bells, with the townsfolk cheering on the Scions in waves, occasionally joining in. Every time it seemed to be winding down, someone else would get a lucky throw in, and the melee would begin anew. Finally winded, cheeks red with glee and exertion, a truce was struck--as the Warrior of Light was tackled into a snowbank by the combined efforts of G'raha and Thancred.  The three of them lay there laughing, Karo holding them fast to her, enjoying having them close.  Kissing them both on the cheek, she took the proffered hand from Alisaie helping her out of the snow, and pulled the younger girl into a hug before they all gathered around a fire that had been set up.

By ones and twos the group slowly retired for the evening, Karo and G’raha left alone to watch the flames flicker in the twilight.  The Miqo’te pair leaned against each other, tails twinning, worn out from the snow battle from the afternoon.  As a shiver ran through the Bard, G’raha hugged her extra close before standing and tugging her up after him.  Naught a word said as he led her back into the Rising Stones, and above to their shared suite.

                                                    --K--

“Comfy?” G’raha looked down at Karo who was now sprawled across the couch they had ended up on, head resting on his leg.  They had both changed into something that wasn’t soaked with snow, and settled in for the evening curled up together to end Starlight as they had started it.  Karo nodded almost imperceptibly, however the slight purr of happiness reached her lover’s ears as all traces of tension left her body.  He knew he didn’t have much energy left either, but the draw of the journal gifted to him earlier was not to be ignored.  Opening it, he reached down to caress one of his shining Star’s ears, amazed once more that she was at his side after all that had happened.  This had truly been the most magical, amazing Starlight he had celebrated.  Getting to stay at her side, watching her laugh, he wanted more.  To get to know her even better, know what kept that smile dancing upon her lips, to know what made her heart race, and her favorite everything.  Using a tendril of magic, he tugged at the blanket at the other side of the couch, using the magic it to cover her without having to move or disturb her one onze.  

“Happy Starlight, my love,” he whispered, turning to the book in his hands, letting her take him on yet another adventure with her words.

[katsuki-goodness]

Only Under the Light of the Night Royalty!AU | Kirishima x Reader

Word Count: 2,346

Summary: [Requested by anon] You and him are in a distant relationship where he sends you letters every night. Being a princess, your father kept him far away from you.

Many songs were sung outside your bedroom window, the sun's rays hitting your skin very harshly but it was complemented by the cool breeze that only made you sigh. It had been a very long day of back and forth with your father, the king, who you very much adore since he is the one who took care of you while your mother was nowhere interested in you. It was her who suggested changing your guard and your father agreed to her, saying how improper it was to have a knight be with a princess like you. He was someone who should be caring and protecting the Queen to be, marking the boundaries between a knight and the princess, but Eijirou could not help himself when he was brought to you as your new guard. His eyes never left yours, and it was obvious the tint of red spreading on your cheeks as you smiled to the redhead with such kindness.

It had been a year, a distant memory now. He had fallen in love with you, his smile penetrating any sadness you felt when you felt the distaste in your home by your own mother. He guided you, held your hand when you would unintentionally step one too many, shielded you those times someone got too close, some even attacking you for being the daughter of the king. Still, he loved you very much, never wavering his love for you, not even when your father decided to send him away to another unit, far away from you.

He smiled at you, his eyes sad from probably being the last time he sees you until a year from now. He bowed to you, keeping the smile on his face as he moved his hand to hold yours, placing one single kiss. You felt his soft lips touch your knuckles and a couple of your fingers, but it brought out your tears. You cried as his face disappeared without a glance towards you, his now dark eyes staring into the distance and just like that, he was gone. Your father had reminded you of that day when your tears continued to fall. You had locked yourself in your room, ordering the new guard to stay outside. He nodded quietly and stood outside as your back laid against the doors you had locked behind you. He stood there, knowing Eijirou for a long time, Shouto knew that his dear friend has a big heart and was willing to give the love he had for her, risking his position as knight, but at the same, he knew it would upset you, his lady.

Your dress was flowing in the light breeze as you waited for the day to go by until night time. Shouto stood there like usual, his eyes tracking you as you moved around the room. You had sat back down, the coffee table in front of you set with a flower arrangement and a tea set. You had not talked to Shouto, even then, he is one to talk much. You decided to look over at the knight guarding you, and his eyes were not set on you. His eyes were closed, so you could not tell what he was thinking.

“Dear knight, would you please join me for some tea?” Shouto looked over, your question coming out more as a demand. He has always denied you for tea or anything that signalled a normal interaction with the princess. He decided to listen this time, sitting across from you as he looked at your hands move back and forth, filling the cups and setting one close to Shouto. He held it in his hand, taking a sip and the feeling of the warm tea coming into contact with his taste buds made him surprised. It was sweet like honey but smooth like the most expensive tea. It was a wonderful sensation.

“It was my previous guard’s favorite tea,” You said with a smile, sipping the tea before setting it down. “I thought it would be nice to let you try it as well. I am sorry for not looking too happy to see you, Shouto.” He was quiet for a while. He was not sure how to respond but seeing the one you loved gone just like that, he understood that it must be hard to coop with something like that.

“Do not worry, Her Highness. I did not expect to be liked very much after Sir Eijirou had left.” Shouto took another sip of his tea, setting it down as he looked over at you, his noticeable stern face staring back.

“I want you to know that it was not my intention to act cold towards you, but I hope you understand that I miss Eijirou very much. If it were not for him, I could have done many idiotic things. Imagine me, the princess, rebelling.” You chuckled a dry chuckle. It was very true that you were going to resist your family just so you can live a normal life, but Eijirou had always told you that the normal life that you were pursuing isn't as extraordinary as you have it currently. He persuaded you to endure it until you can finally make the decision to not become queen. Will it happen? You assumed not. You wanted Eijirou to be by your side not be next to someone who can possibly kill you in your sleep.

Your eyes had trailed off and your mind wandering, seeing a contemplating Shouto, rubbing his chin with his hand as if he just agreed on his thought. He had looked up at you, his expression non changing. “Sir Eijirou sends you a dove every night, does he not, her highness?” You did not expect to hear someone else ask you this. All who knew about this was your maid and she swore to not have said anything to anyone. You trust her, so you assumed he knew through your love.

“How do you know that, Shouto?”

“He has sent me letters every night as well. He has been asking for your well being. He has also been very excited on showing me how much he is happy it is me who is guarding you.” His scoff made you giggle. Whenever he talked about the familiar redhead, Shouto would roll his eyes lightly or even smile since they have known each other when they were young knights. You only knew this because he mentioned it before and very much, rarely talks about his friend but he did it to not make you sad. On the contrary, you enjoyed hearing his stories but then again, he has been cold towards you at times.

After having a pleasant time with Shouto, it had become nightfall. He had went off to his room for the night and you went over to your desk. You began to write, making sure to wait for the letter of the night. It usually came during the closest sunrise, when the sky looked slightly lighter but the stars were still very much visible. In just a short amount of time, you had finished your thought on the piece of paper and went over to the balcony, where the dove carefully landed on the railing, cuddling its head next to your hand as your light finger pats made the beautiful animal close its eyes in comfort. You took the small letter from its leg. Holding your hand sideways, the dove held on as you brought it inside to eat some food and drink. In the meantime, you read the letter, Eijirou’s messy writing making you laugh as the first part of his letter directed his attention to that:

To my Dear Princess,

I am sorry for this letter was in a hurry. I can imagine how hard it was to read even this little part of the letter. Can you please forgive me for I have been very busy commanding the troops? I miss my dear lady still and it has been over a year, am I right? I lost count, really. I just want to see you. I have seem many more horrible things but each time I see the outside world, the flowers blooming, or even the snow, I get reminded of you. Can you not come over to see me, just once? I have been repeating myself too much but I love just hearing from you. How is the castle, my love? Is the weather treating you nicely? I can't wait to hear from you since I am so close to kingdom as I write this letter.

Sincerely, Eijirou Kirishima

Your smile was wide, chucking to yourself as you thought of what to write. You had always laughed on his unusual way of speaking to you, but it was always genuine, cute even. You wrote back, making sure to mention Todoroki and the wonderful time you had with him. You asked about the letters he sends to Shouto, making sure to joke with him on why he hadn't told you before. You smiled throughout the whole time but you couldn't stop thinking about your distance, each time he mentioned wanting to see you, it felt as a jab in your heart. It was possible for you to see him but once your father finds out, and he will find out, he will send you even farther away. It was a risk you did not want to take.

It also didn't take you long to finish your letter, giving it a kiss to bless it for no reason. You thought maybe it will give it energy as it travels, getting to Eijirou without a problem. The poor dove must be exhausted as well, so after half an hour, you set the letter on its leg. You gave it one last pat on the head and sent her off, watching the now sunrise gleaming through the land. You hope that your love can receive this with a smile, and that everything will be alright.

♡

"Everyone, stand by. We must be cautious." It was hell, to say the least, the amount of times the knights have heard something wandering in the woods but nothing had come up. They would check and it would be quickly dismissed when one of them would find animals nesting, or running throughout the area. This time, they had found some wolves that quickly ignored the knights after seeing them with a sword in hand.

Eijirou sighed as they moved back in place. He decided this would be a good time to switch with another unit of soldiers to guard, so he gave the command and went to his tent to rest for a few minutes. He had fallen into slumber fairly quickly, and found that when he woke up, someone had been calling out to him.

"Hey, red hair. Something came in for you." The familiar boy from the blonde made Eijirou jolt up and open the flaps of the tent. There he stood, a recognizable letter in his hand, marked by his one and only Lady. He can tell by the seal she uses on the envelope.

Eijirou looked around, seeing as it hadn't been long since he had left his position, he took the letter from his friend's hand and gave him a smile. "She sent it earlier than I expected."

This made Katsuki snicker in disgust at his friend. "And you're still after that princess. Thought his majesty kicked you out because you were going after his daughter."

"Hey man, help me out here. I didn't want to get kicked out. If anything, I wanted to protect and do my best while doing it, but I didn't think i would fall for her. She is... the most amazing women I have ever seen." His love struck eyes told Katsuki everything and he shook his head.

"You're a lost cause." He had gave a smirk to his friend before leaving to his own tent. Eijirou looked towards the direction his friend had left but his eyes looked back down towards the letter, a smile plastered on his face. He ran inside again, sitting down at his desk with enthusiasm that once he carefully opened the letter, he immediately started chuckling.

Dear My Dearest and Lovable Knight,

I have thought of when I’ll be able to see you but I can not risk seeing you being taken away again. Maybe in the near future but I do not have the courage to see you like this. On another note, the breeze is wonderful! I am also having a wonderful time with Shouto. He has finally started warming up to me, it may seem. He had told me a little secret that he has been receiving letters from you asking how I’ve been aside from asking him the same question. Why have you not told me? I merely joking, of course. Thank you for still looking out for me and still sending me these lovely letters. I await your reply as well. I love you so much my dear knight.

Sincerely yours, Y/N

Did it make the ecstatic redhead even happier just reading the letter you had taken your time to send? Yes, very much. His cheeks were even tinted with red, his eyes somehow lightly tearing up as he put the letter away with all the others he had collected over the year. He was ready to send you another letter by the afternoon, making sure the dove had time to rest before sending off the beautiful bird. This time he had added something special. Something he wanted to give you since the day he had left the castle.

When the day came and went, it was time for him to send another letter, the afternoon sun seeping into his tent. He went over to the dove and made sure it was secured tightly to the slot of the letter carrier. The necklace he wanted to gift you was now tied and secured around the letter, and once the dove had eaten and rested, he sent it off, the smile on his face never fading but his eyes had become sad.

"I hope to see you soon, my princess."

[gumnut-logic]

Not So Alone (repost)

This is a shameless repost because I haven’t written a thing today. So I poked around in my archive and found some fluff. I chose Alan fluff cos that is what I’ve read a bit of today :D I think this may have been one of the first times I wrote Alan’s POV. I know I remember being a touch terrified :D

Apologies to those who have already read it, I’ll try to write some new stuff tomorrow ::hugs:: My brain has just been mush today :(

-o-o-o-

Title: Not So Alone Author: Gumnut 21 Jun 2019 Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS Rating: Teen Summary: Alone time is sometimes better shared. Word count: 1767 Spoilers & warnings: None. Timeline: Standalone Author’s note: This is for @ak47stylegirl​ who wrote me the first part of this little fic, Alone Time, which can be found on her profile on Ao3. She wrote Virgil, so I stepped out of my comfort zone a little and wrote her some Alan to keep her Virgil company :D I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :D Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-   

Alan was bored.

It wasn’t often that he found himself with a lack of things to do. Life was generally busy with Thunderbird maintenance, rescues and backup duties.

Of course, he could always kill some zombies, but he was feeling restless. Gordon was off the island with Grandma so that didn’t help. Scott was buried in paperwork and John was still hiding on Five. Virgil had disappeared.

Wandering out onto the balcony, Alan eyed the pool a moment before throwing the idea out. Without Gordon it wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun.

Maybe he could go for a walk. Scott had been nagging him to get into a more regular exercise routine and, hey, he hadn’t seen the other side of the island for a while.

Darting up to his rooms, he threw on some loose clothes, decent shoes and a hat. A quick note to John to say where he was going and he was out the back door and crunching gravel up the side of the mountain.

While he had no objection to the great outdoors, Alan had no particular preference for sun, surf or bush walking. Not that he didn’t love a splash in the ocean with his brother, or even a jog around the island with Scott, it was just that many of his interests lay in the confines of the virtual world.

Or space.

Part of him didn’t want to admit he was like Johnny, but he was in many ways, but where John adored seclusion, Alan loved people. Basically, Alan was happy doing pretty much anything as long as it was with someone, preferably someone he loved.

So, he would really be lying if he said he took his route at random. It wasn’t a conscious decision, more just what he knew was going to happen regardless.

Virgil had some favourite places on the island to sit and just be. Alan didn’t quite get it any more than he got John’s love of solitude, but he knew his brother liked it and he stored the information for when it was needed.

Today Alan wanted company, so he used the information he had at hand.

Clambering around on the rocky island was not for the faint-hearted. There was no doubt that he was getting a good workout just by going for a simple walk. His first stop was a small cliff beyond Thunderbird Two’s runway. It was Virgil’s favourite, just on the other side of the mountain. He could often be found here just staring out into the ocean thinking who knew what. The scene had been painted, scribbled and, in one case, mosaicked onto a table. This was definitely Virgil’s favourite place.

He wasn’t there.

But Alan still had his list.

Two more Virgil spots proved empty and Alan had managed to work up quite a sweat. He was beginning to wonder why he was even bothering when he caught sight of a figure almost completely hidden in a grove of palm trees.

Virgil sat on a rock, his sketchpad on his lap, completely absorbed in his art. He was up a cliff overlooking a good chunk of the island, the twin peak at an angle even Alan could appreciate.

Alan eyed the climb and with a deep breath began the trek to reach his brother. He kept quiet. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb him. That would be a good way to get his head ripped off. But if he approached from just the right angle, he should be able to see what Virgil was actually drawing.

It took actual rock climbing in a couple of places, but Alan eventually found himself situated behind his brother on top of the cliff, and as expected the view was breathtaking.

It was late afternoon and the entire side of the island was lit up by the sun. Gulls were wheeling in the air above the forested slopes, catching rising air. Far below, raw Pacific collided with the rocky shore in places and wrangled with reefs in others.

Virgil had certainly found a spot.

Quietly Alan made his way closer to his brother. Virgil drew on, showing no sign of knowing Alan was there. The cliff was a slope that had Alan descending towards his brother. Virgil was facing away towards the scenery, slightly hunched as he drew. Because of that slope, Alan was actually able to see his brother’s hand, this time his right, sketching pencil lines on the paper.

For a moment Alan was content to simply watch, but if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t come all this way just to spy on his brother.

“You do know it is rude to stare.”

Virgil’s voice was always soft yet possessed a strength that could be startling. Alan stiffened, annoyed at being caught so easily.

“What? Do you honestly think all that rock clambering would go unnoticed?”

“Dunno.”

His brother had yet to look up at him, simply continuing to sketch as he spoke. You gonna come and sit down?” Virgil held up a hand. “Just be very quiet, I don’t want you to disturb them.”

Alan frowned. “Who?”

But that hand didn’t answer, just beckoned him over.

Alan did what he was told and found himself sitting on that rock beside his older brother.

Virgil was scratching lines furiously onto the page, but the subject wasn’t what he expected. All that beautiful scenery and Virgil was drawing a haphazard pile of sticks?

Whispered. “They’re sea eagles. I’ve never been so close.”

Alan’s eyes darted from the sketchpad to a slither of rock a stone’s throw away from the edge of the cliff. The pinnacle stood alone and defied gravity almost to the point of disbelief. On its very top sat a huge nest. From this angle he could see the two chicks waiting for their parents to return.

Breathed out quiet. “Cool.”

Virgil was sketching madly and under his practised hand, one of the chicks slowly came to life. Simple line instinctively placed, shaded and shaped. It was a little mesmerising.

Alan, of course, had watched Virgil draw before. Amongst all the other things. His brother was usually fiddling with something. He had to have something in his hands, whether it was a pencil or paintbrush, piano or Thunderbird, Virgil tended to always have something playing between his fingers.

When Alan was little there had been many a Kansas winter night snuggled up by the fire, curled up beside his brother watching him draw. Sometimes he would dare him to draw outrageous things like Pedro the Peanut-Killing Pickle. There had been odd stories and scribbled down comics. Alan had even tried his hand under a little encouragement from his brother, but he didn’t have the enthusiasm that Virgil had for the art.

Besides, Alan was quite happy to just sit and watch. Rare quiet moments shared with his artistic brother.

They had been getting rarer and rarer.

“Can I sit with you, Virg?”

A brown eye with an arched eyebrow peered at him. “You’re already sitting.” The curve of a smile. “But sure. Just be quiet and don’t make any sudden moves.”

Respectfully whispered. “Okay.”

So, they sat for an unknown length of time. Virgil drew the second chick, and as one of the parent birds landed with the evening meal, its strong wings, talons and beak appeared on the page. Alan watched as the pencil lines grew darker, surer. Virgil switched pencils and they grew darker still, the birds emerging out of the page into three dimensions.

Down below the two chicks guzzled food from their parent.

A loud, awkward screech from above and another eagle was circling overhead, likely the other parent.

In the corner of the page, the bird quickly appeared, wings spread wide, soaring.

The quiet was amazing. Alan wasn’t one to sit still for any length of time, so perhaps he was missing the obvious, but the sound of Virgil’s pencil, the tease of the breeze and the call of the eagle above had only to compete with the waves far below and the rustle of the scrappy forest.

And a pair of squawking, complaining eagle babies.

Gordon would probably have loved this. His fish brother loved the sea, but he loved all the creatures contained in it even more. Despite this preference for water breathers, if you shoved a puppy or a panda in front of him, the man melted into a gooey puddle. Eagle babies would definitely be on the goo list.

“This is nice, Allie.”

“What?”

“Bit like old times, you sitting and watching me draw.”

Alan shrugged. “I’ve always liked to watch you draw. Guess we haven’t had as much time lately.”

The pencil paused. “Yeah.” His brother turned to look at him. “Well, it is good to see you out here. Nice to have your company.” A gentle smile.

“Anytime, bro. Kinda nice out here anyway.”

That smile grew a little before softening. “Well, unfortunately we have to head back now.”

“What?”

“I’ve got to pick up Gordon and Grandma.”

Alan checked his watch. Where the hell had the time gone? He’d been out here…three hours! “Wow, didn’t expect it to be so late.”

Virgil didn’t comment, just smiled a little more as he packed up his sketchbook and pencils.

Alan stood up and stared out across the ocean. A flicker on the surface of the water and he caught sight of a pod of dolphins frolicking in the swell. He stared.

“It’s amazing what you can see if you stop and look.” His brother’s soft voice so close to him made him jump.

“Virg, personal space.”

His brother snorted and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t think such a thing exists on this island.” That smile again. “Probably why John hides on Five.”

Alan grinned. “You’ve got a point.” And despite his earlier protest, he dropped his head against Virgil’s shoulder and for just a few more moments, they both tracked the dolphins as the cavorted past the Island.

“Can we do this again?”

“Sure.” Virgil slung his pack over his shoulder.

“Great.”

Silence fell, and they stood there a moment longer until Virgil squeezed a little and let go. “C’mon, sprout, time to clamber down the mountain.”

Virgil took the first few steps and Alan followed, throwing one last glance back at the nest now full of the entire family of sea eagles. A sharp beaked head turned in his direction and glared at him.

Alan couldn’t help but smile at the bird before he hurried after his brother.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[televisionboy]

hi!!! i love your fics and love your blog even more! i was wondering if you’re still taking requests and if not pls ignore and be safe and healthy!! if you are, is it possible to write a Speirs imagine from best friends to lovers? ty🥺❤️

The 3 times Speirs made you smile and the 1 time you made him

Thank you to everyone who helped my dumb ass with locations and events.

Dedicated for @immrsronaldspeirs

Word count: 1,794

Tag list: @adamantiumdragonfly @raven-has-no-gender2272 @thatsonefishyboi @immrsronaldspeirs @punkgeekchic @inglourious-imagines @3milesup @murphyism @noneofurbusinez @hufflepuffpancakes @sunnyshifty @meteora-fc @alienoresimagines @band-of-bitches @wexhappyxfew @we-always-hit-our-ass @deldontplay @lovingunderratedcharacters @fromtheoldtimes @contrabandhothead @tremendousjudgesuitcasestudent @georgeluzwarmhugs @sunflowerchuck @sodapop182 @hoosiers-blanket @speirs-crazy-ass @mrseasycompany @vat69nix @stressedinadress @tyenesnakes

1.

The first time you met Ronald Speirs was after the jump on d-day it wasn’t you hanging out with Luz, Skip, Malarkey, and Penkala that attracted him to you. It was your caring side, the side that helped people emotionally and physically up. Was it love at first sight? For him; it was. “And what’s your name, solider” he asked while seeing you. “I- Y/L/N, Y/N” inside him, it felt like a million butterflies exploded. But he nodded and walked away. Malarkey turned to you, his jaw open wide “Do you even know who that is?” You shook your head but watched the handsome Lieutenant walk away. “That’s Ronald Speirs” he whispered.

“So?” Why was Malarkey so scared? What did this Ronald Speirs do?”

“I could’ve sworn he was shooting the German POWS, he offered them cigarettes and shot them. But left one to survive” you raised your eyebrows but cut Don off “I’m going to go talk to Winters, alright? Find out where we are”

You walked over to the circle that Buck, Winters, and Speirs was. “Winters? Sir? Do you have any idea what our orders are?” He turned to you and moved a little to let you stand next to him without it looking like you were behind them. “No idea Y/L/N, still waiting but I’ll let you know, alright?” You muttered a “yes sir” and watched as Winters walked away to go find Nixon. Speirs turned to you “Y/L/N? We met back there?” You nodded your head, yes. “You got any cigarettes?”

“Uh” you patted your front pocket until you could feel a box, took it out and handed it over to him “I do” he lit one and gave you back the box. “No, keep it. I don’t really smoke, just won it from a fellow solider”

“Where you from Y/L/N?” He puffed out a smoke, careful not to breathe directly in front of your face as you told him.

“What about you?”

“From Boston” you smiled “My cousins live there, it’s quite a beautiful place”

He looked confused, almost as if he didn’t quite agree with you “the rurual parts are, yes” you were about to ask him a question but were cut off when he was called over. “Well thanks for the smoke” he brang his hand out to shake yours and you shook it “Anytime”

He gave you a tight lipped ‘almost’ smile and left, little did he know you had tiny little heart eyes and a huge smile on your face and Liebgott came up to you to ask what that was all about

2. When he arrived in Bastogne, the first thing you did was beg someone to take him away. It was unsafe territory and you would never forgive yourself if he got hurt. You slid into your foxhole you shared with Ronald Speirs. Stupid cold, Florida isn’t like this. California isn’t like this. TOCCOA ISN’T LIKE THIS! Ron slid into the foxhole after you, fishing around in his pocket for cigarettes and letting out several breaths that looked like he was smoking. You stared into the dark, crisp, night air before he called your name “Y/N” which led you to snap out of it “Hm?”

“I asked if you wanted a cigarette” he plainly said, Bastogne was wearing on everyone. You had bags under your eyes and Speirs had dark circles around his eyes, but despite that he still looked handsome as ever. “Yes please” he handed you a cigarette and you leaned forward so he could light it. As he did that, he really got a clear look at your face. Bags, hands freezing, hair a mess. It wasn’t exactly a beauty pageant but he didn’t want you feeling terrible.

“Have you slept here? At all?” He sternly asked “I’d be surprised if anyone has” you muttered, ignoring the question. “Y/L/N” he quietly pressed, careful not to bring attention but low enough to make it seem intimidating. “No okay, no I haven’t. I’ve been too busy focusing on not dying” you seethed while whispering. He sighed and his head fell back against the cold, snowy, frozen foxhole. “Come here”

You scooted across the foxhole to sit next to him, “You have a few hours, try to sleep alright?” You stomped the rest of the cigarette and layed against his shoulder “Thanks” he responded with a kiss on your forehead. “Anything for you, angel” you lifted your head up a bit, your cheeks bright red “angel?” You could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks heat up, but to this day he still says it was because of the cold. Not that you’ll press him but you know you’re right. “You’re an angel to all of these men here Y/N, now try to sleep” he simply stated like it was no big deal. You slept that night with a grin on your face.

3.

Luz sorting Hershey bars and not letting anybody even go near them was humourous. When he saw Liebgott try to steal one he almost asked Martin to come over and be his body guard, but chickened out. You were sitting on a stool next to Joe trying to get a bar for yourself, George would not budge. Guess they got to him because he loudly declared himself done with it. When you heard someone ask where Speirs was, your cheeks heated up “Yeah, where is he?” Liebgott bumped shoulders with you “I’m sure you want to know where your boyfriend is!”

"We’re not dating, shut up” you blushed and smacked Liebs arm. “Down by the river, sir” George responded and you hopped up. “I have to go. George remember, Hershey bar for me please!” You winked and walked to the door “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see what I can do” he muttered before Liebgott heard that and started whining all over again.

When you got to the river you saw Dick and Nix walk by which meant Speirs was probably still there. Nix gave you a subtle wink.

“Hey” you softly said and Speirs jumped a little at the sound of your voice, even in a war surrounded by men (and you) a woman’s voice was still rare to him, especially such a gorgeous voice like yours. He hugged your side but returned to looking out the binoculars. “You ready for the patrol tonight?” You asked him

“Yeah, I hope” he shakily said, you were on the list for the patrol but he requested (more like threatend) that you be removed. He was scared, he hardly got through Bastogne with you emotionally. Don’t even get him started on physically. You shuffled around in your pocket and pulled out the remains of your chocolate bar and handed it to him “thought you could use something sweet” he stared at your hand like it was green and was talking, chocolate was brand new to him now. He scoffed but took it anyways “I already have you for that”

Leave it to Ron to make you blush, but you shook your head. “I was worried Bastogne rubbed off on me, wouldn’t want to become depressed. Believe me, I love Malarkey like my brother but he’s not the same. More.. quiet and it freaks me out, yknow?”

“I would hate if you lost your sparkling personality and I’m glad it didn’t rub off on you completely”

He looked into his binoculars again, staring at enemy territory “That’s because I had you with me. You kept me sane” you breathed out, you couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not but you could definitely see his apple red cheeks. He removed the binoculars and turned to you, brushing the hair out of your face.

“Malarkey will be fine, Y/N. I swear on that statement. War rubs off on everybody. And nobody will bring you down or wipe that smile off of your face, or I’ll have to kill them” you giggled and he brought you to him, embraced you in a warm hug. Your head against his chest and his arms around you. Little did you know he wasn’t joking, and the whole company knew it too. When you pulled back, you realized you were dangerously close to his face. He looked into your eyes, as if asking if it was alright to continue. To which you smiled softly and leaned in closer and closer. The moment your lips nearly touched your name was called by Winters. “Y/L/N! Can I see you for a moment please?” You called out a “yes sir” before saying goodbye to Speirs. Embarrassed and left wondering if you would ever have that moment again.

4.

You were laying on the chair at hitlers nest. Hitler was dead, the Germans surrendered. You were interlocking hands with Speirs, you didn’t care he was too drunk. Winters had already left with Nixon to show him Hitlers alcohol collection which left you with Ron and a ranting Welsh. You turned over to look at Welsh, blinking the sun out of your eyes “that’s nice”

“I gotta take a piss, I’m gonna find a bathroom”

You watched as a drunken Harry stumble his way away. You stood up to sit on the balcony across from Speirs, staring out at the view. He stood up and wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on your chest. “Okay! Okay! Let me get down for a second..”

You hopped off and leaned against the wall, him leaning in to you. Cupping your face in his hands and gulped “We’re all alone” he softly said

“That we are” you whispered. Leaning in closer to him but you closely looked to see if Winters was there to call your name before you kissed him. But he wasn’t and you closed the gap, kissing him and smiling into it too. He ran his hands down your sides, the kiss was full of sadness, passion, relief, and anything you experienced during the war after 3 years.

You broke the kiss for air “I’ve been waiting a while to do that” you gasped.

“As have I” he laughed a blushing, red Speirs was left standing before you. “Happy VE Day” he grinned up at you, happier than ever

You sighed contentedly “I can’t wait to go home to Boston with you” you ran your hands through his messy,dark,curls. He kissed your chin, neck, and cheek several times. “We can live in the beautiful, rural part” he smiled

After 3 years he remembered that conversation. Your mom told you that war was not a place to look for love but you strongly disagreed because before you, stood a man who you met when you were scared of the rumors of him. But you became his best friend, and soon to be his wife. You made Ronald Charles Speirs laugh and smile and that deserved an award.

[the-ghoulish-write]

~ A Ghoulish Queen ~

c.w. // swearing; minor blood; brief mention of death

Word Count: 3463 words

Summary:  Haeresis Dea, the Zombie Queen, was a large ghoul that lived deep within the Eastern Glades outside of the monastery.  Every year, Hell’s Gates produces a bright light show, known as the Night of Electric Flame.  With this night, the infernal ghouls that reside within the Glades grow restless, including the every roaming Queen of Ghouls.  As the wonders of the Eastern Glades and the Electric Flame grow for the younglings within the monastery, they may be prone to wander a bit too far from the nest.  This only makes for a long night for the two eldest brothers known as Emeritus.

- - - - - WRITING BELOW CUT - - - - -

- - - - - - -

The dark forests that bordered the monastery held monsters unknown to most of the Church.  The calls of the forest were haunting, pulling in any unsuspecting passersby with the songs of the damned.  The whispers from Hell’s Gates, the high, frosted twin peaks of the mountain range just east of the monastery, would travel down the mountain and settle like a fog within the glades of the forests.  The blue flame would light the night sky on occasion, the sulfur-based pyre licking the tips of the frosted mountain without scorching the land.

The forests were greatly forbidden, especially to the East, where lost spirits would roam in search of their corporeal form.  Stories about a corpse-like ghoul, Haeresis Dea, were always passed around the monastery, a scare tale to keep the young acolytes far from the woodland.  If Emeritus III didn’t do a good enough job in convincing the younglings away from the Eastern Glades, then it was Emeritus II who was tasked to the job in breaking their bravery down.

Standing on one of the many balconies of the monastery, Emeritus II watched the dark night skies light up with flickers of electric blue.  The bright flame ate at the night sky, encapsulating into the stars like a supernatural borealis.  It was a night of immense danger for the monastery if the Eastern Glades were to remain unsealed.  With a darkened sigh, the Second cast his eyes off of the sky down to the foggy forest.  If the younglings decided to sneak out to explore the forest, it would be tonight… It was always the night of Electric Flame.  He adjusted his gloves before moving on to the rolled up sleeves of his green button-up, crossing each arm over each other and tucking his thumbs underneath their respective suspender straps.

Feeling the dark presence behind him, Emeritus II faced the one who had entered behind him, his eyes catching his older brother’s crystalline left eye.  His elder walked to his side without a word, his hands tucked firmly behind his back and his eyes staring towards the forest’s edge.  The First gave a small sigh as he began to speak, his deep yet smooth voice showing no sign of irritation, “I’ve counted four acolytes gone from their beds.”

“Another year of younglings sacrificing themselves to Haeresis Dea, then?  Or do we go out there and sacrifice our own skins for the lives of four idiotic children?”  The Second scoffed, his arms crossed over one another as he also cast his gaze to the forest’s edge.

The First snapped his head towards his younger brother, his voice breaking with a sense of warning, “Mio fratello.  The Zombie Queen has feasted on enough of the church’s younglings, forcing concern from the elder members of the High Clergy.  It isn’t about the numbers lost, it’s about the number Haeresis Dea has gained from consumption.”

The younger brother lifted his left hand, closing his eyes as he let out a sigh, “Primo--the concerns of the High Clergy are not my own.  What’s four younglings to the Clergy?”

“Four souls for Haeresis Dea to unlock her full potential, meaning we will no longer be able to control the Ghouls.”  Emeritus I coldly stared at his brother, a gaze intense enough to clearly make the younger feel it deep within him.  

Both brothers stared at each other for a few moments, no words shared between them.  With only another sigh, the Second’s large dragon-like wings manifested from his back, stretching out one-by-one before folding in on themselves.  His soft green right eye locked onto his brother’s crystalline left, a firm nod coming from him, “I’ll handle this… You don’t have to come with me for this one… Oh, and if Terzo asks--”

“I’ll tell him you’re out.  This isn’t the first time I’ve lied to Terzo for you, Secondo.”

The Second gave a small smirk to his older brother before climbing up onto the balustrade of the balcony with wings outstretched.  With a small wave of his hand as a farewell, Emeritus II dived off of the balcony, catching air under his outstretched leathery wings almost immediately as he headed in the direction of the forest.

With how densely populated the forest was with trees, the Second was forced to soar over the canopies of the largest trees.  His snowy left eye gleamed bright, the supernatural taking his left side’s sight as he searched the forest from the sky.  The ghouls that whispered in his head always gave him intense migraines, their infernal whispers unbearably loud.  His pointed ears perked and he snapped his head to the right, audible cries carrying to him from a nearby glade.  His supernatural eye did quick work to locate exactly where he would have to go.  With a flick of his right wrist, his staff appeared into his hand, the monastery’s signature inverted grucifix at its tip as a blade.

Something was clearly wrong in that glade, his eye locating an odd shape.  That shape gazed directly back at him with two deathly gray eyes, forcing a sharp pain to cast through his head.  The voices of the ghouls were gone, as was the vision those whispers provided to him.  Frustration washed over him as he muttered, “Damn it all… if those younglings are dead… Primo will force me into one of the Nine Circles...” before tucking his wings in as he shot straight down for the glade.

In order to stop his fast fall, he opened his wings again, catching air quickly beneath the leathery surface, allowing him to land softly on the ground.  His leathery wings faded from his back, showing him now as only a man with a weapon in hand.  He scanned the glade, the gentle sobs of one of the younglings just behind him.  He cast his eyes behind him for a quick glance, finding the young girl who sat under a withering willow tree with tears rolling down her cheeks, her bright brown eyes wide on Emeritus.  She couldn’t have been any older than 7-years.  He kept his eyes towards the open glade and his weapon ready, backing up to the girl.  

The Second kneeled down beside the girl, his eyes cold and strict on her.  She recoiled at his hard glare, but she clearly understood why her elder was angry with her.  Paralyzed with fear, with a soft voice she babbled, her words broken up by her sobs, “Your---your dark excellency. You… You really did… you really did come to save us!”

“Quiet now, little one.  You’re safe now…”  Despite his firm gaze, his words were tender, almost uncharacteristic of his usual demeanor.  He reached out to the young girl with his left hand, his eyes quickly back on the glade.  Once the girl had gently taken his hand, the Second pulled her close to him, wrapping his arm around her to keep her close.  Quietly, he uttered to her, “You must tell me where the others are, little one.”

She was shaking from fear, her small hands now clenching the fabric of the Second’s shirt, her head pressed firmly against his chest.  Tears continued to streak down her cheeks, but words did not arrive to her.  He didn’t know what trauma she had experienced out here, but he didn’t have time to wait for her to decide to speak.  He hooked his left arm underneath her legs, picking her up as he stood tall, his eyes still darting around the area.  He couldn’t hear a thing outside of this girl’s breathing, forcing him to swear under his breath.

The darkness of the forest swelled for a moment, catching Emeritus off guard.  “Shit!”  He pulled the girl as close as he could to his chest, a small gasp escaping her as her rescuer pushed off of the ground to the left.  From behind, nearly missing him as he jumped away, the lithe, skeletal monster sprinted past.  He spun around as soon as he landed, the girl now shaking even further… what a great time to have to fight, with a youngling in arm…

Before him, standing on long, thin hind legs at almost 15 feet tall with skin peeling from its lithe frame was the Zombie Queen, Haeresis Dea, also known as the Queen of Ghouls.  Her dark body was shadow bound like that of other ghouls, but she stood much taller and larger, almost like the queen in a hive.  With a mane of white mist falling down from bright white horns, a row of silver horns that formed a crown on her head, dog-like legs and large claws for hands, this beast was far from the ghouls the Second had ever seen.  By Emeritus III’s Era Three Ghouls, the ghouls had been greatly domesticated… Haeresis Dea was even more wild than the Era Zero ghouls belonging to his Father.  With a blisteringly loud howl in infernal, the Queen of the Ghouls unlatched her jaw, showing long, black blade-like teeth.  It was here when the Second said a silent prayer to the Dark Lord.

Emeritus II pressed his staff into the ground firmly, a strange mist emitting from the ground where he stood.  Haeresis Dea roared, making the Second instinctively keep the youngling close to him.  This girl was going to live to see another day, no matter the plans that were handed to Emeritus by fate.  The mist wrapped quickly around the glade, allowing Emeritus to finally move from his spot just as the large beast of a ghoul charged at him with claws outstretched.  As Emeritus ran from where he stood, few words came from his lips, “Ventum!  Silex!  Unda!  Come to me!”

In front of him, three hooded Ghouls dressed in black robes appeared, their claws shown as their tails lashed at the enemy in front of them.  For just a moment, Emeritus stopped before his Ghouls, his breathing staggered.  He kneeled down, releasing his tight hold on the girl.  She looked up at him, only fear present in her eyes.  The Second’s eyes were soft for a moment, a small smile tracing his lips as he placed his gloved hand onto the head of the girl, “It will be okay.  You’ll be alright.”  His eyes cast up to the largest of the three ghouls, bright green eyes shining through its plague doctor shaped mask down onto them while the other ghouls stayed focused on the beast, who was present on the other side of the glade.  “Flint,”  The largest responded immediately to Emeritus’s voice, his tail lashing less as he looked down to his master and the girl, “Take the young one back to the monastery.  Take her directly to my older brother and tell him what’s going on here.”

The girl looked up at Emeritus II, clutching her white cassock with both arms as she was gently lifted up by Flint.  She spoke softly, but with pure concern coating her words, “Will… will you be alright, fratello?”

The way she spoke hit the Second hard, reminding him of his younger brother.  The Second did not smile, but his eyes stayed soft and calming as he looked at her and answered, “That’s something that only the Dark Lord knows, young one.”  He turned to his earth ghoul and nodded firmly, the ghoul reciprocating the nod then running off into the shadows with the young girl.

Once they were gone into the woods, Emeritus spun on his heel, the beast stalking the far end of the glade, her eyes still on them.  His voice raised in anger as he commanded the two ghouls beside him, “Breeze!  Ripple!  Find the other younglings…  I’ll take care of this beast.”

The two ghouls didn’t say a word, but ran off into the shadows on the edges of the glade, heading in two different directions.  The wrath that was held inside of the Second quickly burst from its shell, a yell resonating deep from within him.  He ran towards the beast, taking his staff in both hands as a brace in front of him, yelling, “Burn in the Nine Circles, you beast!”

Haeresis Dea roared once again, picking herself up off of all fours and standing tall as she roared into the blue-tainted sky.  She charged at Emeritus, both of them meeting near the middle of the glade.  She unhinged her jaws, ready to make a meal out of the Bloodline’s middle son, but Emeritus slid underneath the thin beast.  With his staff in hand, he planted it firmly into the ground, stopping himself quickly as an arcane circle appeared in his hand.  Green flame enveloped the beast’s torso, a pained howl coming from the Zombie Queen.

The Second was forced to lay flat on the ground as Haeresis Dea fell down to her side in pain, howling.  He quickly stood, stabilizing himself with his staff before running towards that beast once again.  He jumped, aiming for the beast’s torso with the bladed end of his staff, but was whacked with the tip of the beast’s long tail, sending him across the glade.

Emeritus landed on the far end of the clearing, skidding to a halt on one knee and piercing his staff into the soil.  His multi-colored eyes flashed in anger as he snapped his gaze back to the beast.  Digging his staff deep into the land, he stood with both hands off of his weapon, coughing up some blood.  He did not use the arcana he had trained with very often, but this was the time to use it.  He was injured.  Raising his arms to his sides, two different runes appeared in both hands as he inhaled then exhaled.  He placed his hands close together in front of him as if he was holding a small orb between the space, where a circular rune soon appeared.  Haeresis Dea had picked herself up off of the ground and roared once more, charging straight for the Second on all fours.  Haeresis Dea stopped about 10 yards away from her target, standing up on her hindlegs with a roar.  

“You’re mine!!”  The Second gave an evil grin as he unleashed the rune with a quick push of both hands, the bright green runes burning into Haeresis Dea’s chest.  The beast let out a horrific roar, chains appearing around each of her limbs.  She quickly was bound to the ground, spitting and roaring away, struggling against the strong chains.  

Emeritus quickly became short of breath, as holding a sealing arcana on a creature so large was straining enough.  He approached the beast with large strides, two new seals appearing in his hands.  New chains began to bound the ghoul’s beast-like muzzle, pinning Haeresis Dea’s head firmly on the ground.  She would not be able to move as long as the Second would be able to focus on his seal.  Approaching the beast carefully, he could finally see into her bright, silver eyes with bright white pupils.  She shows him her teeth, the blade-like teeth a threat if she was able to break free from the runes.  Newly summoned ghouls tended to be the problem for taming, but this ghuleh had never been tamed… and who knew how old she was.  

Emeritus placed both of his hands gently onto the beast, one onto the top of her head and the other onto the back of her neck.  His snowy eye turned a bright green, matching the glow of his arcana.  This would be a mental battle if the Queen of Ghouls attempted to resist in a large capacity, which was very likely with how much of a danger she has always been.  The whispers of ghouls that he had always heard when touching the edges of the infernal was amplified, almost deafening, and they all resonated from Haeresis Dea.

Her words were broken, clearly due to pain or a mental crack inside this battle.  Her infernal was sloppy, sloppier than it had been in her whispers of it during their fight.  Emeritus took this as his opportunity to carve deep into her skull and spine his capture runes.  This was no longer the traditional way of taming Ghouls, but the Bloodline was forced to learn it due to the dangers of the Hell’s Gates.  Forcing his hands deep into her psyche, he was able to force his seals onto their respective places, but he would have to hold them there for a few minutes so they would lock in place.

This was when Haeresis Dea began to struggle.  Her infernal howls grew even louder, shaking the Second to his core.  He had to remain focused, despite these loud screams.  He was haunted by the whispers of the damned… he could get through this.  Haeresis Dea struggled against her chains, pulling her head up bit by bit due to Emeritus’s declining control over his sealing arcana.  Through clenched teeth, Emeritus hissed, “Stay down!”  That sheer force of will forced Haeresis Dea back to her place on the ground, almost motionless.  Her infernal became more jumbled and began to fall apart, meaning she had given up.  His seals finally locked and he released himself from the beast’s psyche, falling to the ground beside the now unconscious beast.  His breathing was quick and his heart rate was through the roof, and his blurry vision was not doing him any favors.  The infernal whispers vanished from his ears as a familiar voice reached him.

“Fratello!!”  The Second turned to face his elder brother, his head spinning worse when he moved.  He placed his right hand onto his upper face, pinching the bridge of nose with his eyes clenched shut.  He felt his brother’s touch come to his shoulder and he tried to muster up words, but he couldn’t find them.  He needed to rest.  He heard his brother’s voice once more, a stern but relieved overtone active in his speech, “You’re a fucking idiot, Secondo.  You could have died trying to seal a ghuleh this size!  What in the world were you thinking?!”

The younger of the two brothers gave a snarky grin with a soft laugh to follow, the only words to follow being, “I… had to protect… those kids…”

He heard his older brother breath in to start a rebuttal, but go silent.  The First picked up his younger brother, sighing as he let his bat-like wings break from his back.  The elder’s wings were lined with feathers, but more bat-like than bird-like with leather wings still present.  “I’m proud of you, mio fratello… but you were too reckless… Even if Haeresis Dea, the Queen of Ghouls, is now yours to command, you…”  The First’s words faded out as he looked down at his younger brother before he continued, “Family is all we have, Secondo.  Don’t let it go to waste.”

The Second finally opened his eyes, looking up at his brother with softer eyes, “What about--”

“We lost one.  Consumed by that beast you tamed.  The girl that your Earth Ghoul returned was alright physically, but she had a lot of emotional strain.  The other two we found… a young boy, age 11 or 12, lost an arm to Haeresis Dea… the other partially lost vision due to shock.  That vision may be able to be recovered.  And as much as I do not wish to do this, those younglings must be punished for going against the High Clergy...”

Emeritus II dipped his head, closing his eyes once more with a sigh, “I understand… you must follow your duties.”

“There is nothing I can do about it.  It’s the Order of the Stygian… The High Clergy would eat me alive if I didn’t follow it.”  The elder brother scoffed slightly, shaking his head before speaking further, “But enough about all of that… let’s get you back to the monastery.  I will have some sisters of sin check you for any injury--”

“I’m not--”

“--I won’t take no for an answer on this one, Secondo.  My words are law, understand that.”  And with those words, both brothers fell into silence.  

Eventually, Haeresis Dea faded into the shadow where she was left, only to be called by Emeritus II on command for any further appearance.  With the Second fully recovered, her response only came in song to a quiet whisper of “Ghuleh…”  The youngest of the bloodline, upon finding out about the great battle his older sibling had been a part of, grew jealous of his new “pet.”  Haeresis Dea could easily be found walking the grounds of the Monastery at night as its best guard.  The large Ghuleh was discovered as being part of the Primal Era, a long living ghoul who somehow lasted centuries without being found by devote believers.  Now, she is safe, despite her beastial tendencies.

- - - - - - -

-- Message from Dom --

“Hello to my Ghastly Spectral Readers!

I’m proud to show off a story I wrote a few months back!  I hope you all enjoyed it.  Even though I’ve only slowly been able to piece together characterizations on many of the characters, specifically Papas 1 and 2, I think I’m starting to get a better handle on how I see these characters.  The ghouls to me have always felt to have fallen in a sort of ‘creative free reign.’  Expect more writings to come soon!  :D

- Dom, the Ghoulish Write”