#if you can tell- i've stared at that little braid in his hair for quite a while lolz

[harmonysanreads]

Thinking about Yandere!Mydei braiding your hair. This mighty, invincible man removing pieces of his armory, so that they won't have a chance of harming even a strand of hair.

He handles it as if he was tasked with keeping the clouds in his grasp, each movement of his fingers measured, strength forbidden from flowing without his command. His concentration prevents him from blinking altogether, as such, the final product appears to be clumsier, as though the craft of amateur hands. It can be seen as hints in his eyes, he's terrified of pulling too hard, creating unwanted knots betwixt the locks.

Your amusement would beget laughs had you not been numbed by the same hands, the grip that brought so much harm now frightened at the prospect of twisting your hair wrong. You can offer nothing more than blinks as the Crown Prince scrambles for accessories, lips pursed in comical pondering about which ones should complete the braid.

You don't critique how you end up looking by the end of this fit of whimsy, you make no protest as he resumes holding you close wordlessly. An odd apology, even if you don't accept it by heart, you know pretending to do so will bring less pain to both of your souls.

[benedictscanvas]

hey love! im sorry your request box hasnt been what you were looking for but maybe this will work! can i request a ball with benedict bridgerton where feelings are only realized when one of them dances with someone else? i dont really mind if its reader or benedict but i just think it would be cute!! hope you’re doing well <3 <3

hello my lovely. you're the sweetest, thank you so much for such a gorgeous request. I've got a pretty similar fic where Benedict realises his feelings, so I was super excited to do the other way around, I hope you enjoy <3 <3 | 1.5k words, fem!reader

There is a woman in Benedict’s arms and it isn’t you and you think you might throw your lemonade at her. Accidentally, of course.

You don’t know her, and if the reasonable side of your brain was in charge, you’d probably think she looks quite lovely. Her hair is adorned in elaborate braids and her smile is demure but still a little goofy - she isn’t shrouded in the fake humility that she finds so many ladies of the ton carry around with them. 

But still you find yourself fantasising about a large lemonade stain painting the front of her dress, the poor girl hurrying away in her shock and distress.

Away from Benedict. Who’s now laughing. At something the girl has said, no less. Why, you’d never seen him laugh at any lady of the ton who wasn’t either his sister or, once, Lady Danbury.

And yourself, of course, but you didn’t count.

At least, you didn’t think you counted. You didn’t think you wanted to count, content to while away the balls and the promenades by Benedict’s side, sometimes Eloise’s, whispering about so-and-so’s hat or whats-his-name’s hair. He’d never asked you to dance, although you’d never wanted him to before. Now that he was dancing with someone for the first time you could recall, however, you could feel that changing very swiftly.

”You know, looking vexed in the corner isn’t likely to win you many adoring suitors, Miss Y/L/N.”

Eloise always knows just when to get on your nerves and she’s grinning at you slyly when you turn to face her, finally breaking the spell that Benedict and his new dance partner had placed on you.

”Since when have you believed that was my endeavour, dear Eloise?”

”Since you’ve spent the entire night glaring at pretty young Miss Pennyforth. It’s making you look rather jealous, to the untrained eye.”

You turn away from her, fixing your eyes on her brother yet again. They’re not talking anymore, just staring at each other as he twirls her again and again. Maybe it was better when they spoke after all, because now your stomach is twisting into something that does indeed feel a lot like jealousy.

”Yes, well, you know better than to think I’m jealous. Though I do seem to be in a foul mood.”

Eloise nods exaggeratedly, a pretend-sympathetic pout on her lips.

”Yes, you poor thing. And it obviously has nothing to do with the brother of mine that you can’t take your eyes off.”

You pointedly look at her again but she just dissolves into giggles at the look on your face.

”If you have a point, Eloise, I suggest you make it.”

”Oh, no point at all. Only that the one ball where Benedict decides not to stand with you and ruin his prospects all night, you seem to be very dour indeed. With no correlation, of course.”

You glower at her as best you can. You have the irritable feeling crawling out of your stomach through your throat that you might be about to cry, and you refuse to do so here, or to allow Eloise to think it’s her fault if you do.

”You run along and find Penelope or I shall tell your mother there’s a gentleman asking after you.”

She gaped at you, quite genuinely.

”You wouldn’t,” she murmured, but then promptly hurried away when you fixed her with a look that told her you most certainly would. It was a lie, because you could never bring yourself to do that to your friend, but it was a ruse that allowed to slip away from the ballroom.

You cast one last glance over your shoulder at Benedict to see him kissing the back of Miss Penny-something’s hand and your eyes began to sting.

- - -

There was a little bench hidden away to the left of the grand entrance, just dark enough to not be spotted by those near the carriages. You managed to shed a few tears in private, silent silly things, and you wiped them away angrily.

It was only Benedict. Quiet, mischievous, generous Benedict. He was creative and caring and could come up with the most brilliant insults you’d ever heard. Obviously, he also had a beautiful face, but you’d never given it much thought. All the Bridgertons were beautiful, it felt like a requirement.

”Did Lord Tennesby try to talk to you again?”

You sighed deeply, closing your eyes with your head bowed. Of course he’d find you. If anyone was likely to be looking for a quiet spot for a moment’s reprieve, it was him.

You wiped at your face in vain before looking up at him with what you hoped was a convincing smile. 

“I’d be halfway back home if that was the case. What are you doing out here?”

Why aren’t you with Pennyfuzzy? was the unspoken second question that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to ask, knowing how spiteful it would come out. You wished you had realised you might want more from Benedict in the comfort of your own home, where you could take a week to process those feelings and prepare for how to deal with them.

Instead, you’d just have to see what happened in this conversation and go from there. Sounded promising.

”I was going to ask you the same thing. Have you…been crying?”

”I think it’s the flowers,” you point over at the hyacinths in the nearby flowerbed, “They often get the best of me this time of year.”

”Daphne’s ball last year was filled with hyacinths and you didn’t so much as sniffle.”

You frowned at him.

“I probably sniffled.”

“You didn’t. I would have noticed. I would have offered you a handkerchief like the dashing young gentleman I am.”

It was enough to pull up your frown at the corners, which in turn propelled him to take a seat beside you on the bench. You busied yourself with a crease in your dress when you talked to him.

“Maybe you’re not as dashing as you think.”

“I’m incredibly dashing,” he argued, pointing his chin upwards in that silly, mighty way you always giggled at, “I swept Miss Pennyforth off her feet just moments ago.”

Like an ice cold bucket of water poured right over you. You almost shivered.

“Ah, Miss Pennyforth. Has someone finally captured your wayward attention, Mister Bridgerton?”

You looked up at him and tried not to sniffle or snuffle or anything else that might give you away. He was just looking puzzled.

“What? No, I meant I quite literally swept her off her feet. I got the steps wrong, according to Eloise, who helped me up once she had a hold of her laughter.”

You blinked at him.

“You fell?”

“Into quite the heap. Miss Pennyforth was a good sport about it all but she did end up with a rather unfortunate lemonade stain all down the front of her dress. I think she was a little embarrassed.”

He had the decency to look a little embarrassed himself. There you had been, ready to hurl the contents of your cup at the girl and Benedict had solved your predicament for you. A twinge of guilt tugged at you.

“I’m sorry I missed it,” you said honestly, face overtaken by a wry smirk since Benedict had not sat down singing her praises. Still you had to be sure, “She was looking a very good dancer before I left, I was afraid she might steal away my conversation partner.”

It ended up sounding far more transparent in your intentions than you’d hoped. But you held his eye contact defiantly when he grinned.

“I knew you missed me,” he said, smug, “I took one look at your face and I could see it plain as day. Really, you should have hidden it better.”

“I don’t enjoy these events and you know it, Benedict.”

Back to his first name and by the light in his eyes, he’d noticed the switch. He stood up and held out his arm for you.

“I know. I’m very grateful for it. Now come along, I’ve done my duty to my mother dancing with that girl and now I would like to do my duty to myself.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, not moving a muscle.

“I would like to make fun of the Featheringtons with my most cherished friend. Would you do me the honour?”

Something skipped inside your chest. Light and airy again, no longer weighed down and chained to something churning your stomach. His most cherished friend. Despite the evening’s revelations, that sounded heavenly.

“Is Eloise inside waiting for you then?” you can’t help but tease and he promptly puts his arm back by his side with a huff.

“You are intolerable. I’m going without you.”

“No - wait!” you laughed, following after him gleefully as he turned away from you and started walking. You managed to catch him on the stairs, threading your hand into the crook of his elbow with ease as you did.

The smile he sent you would take at least the next week to contemplate but you had time. You could be a very brilliant 'most cherished friend' for now.

(and you were far more cherished than you knew, of course, but he wasn't quite ready to tell you yet)

---

if you'd like to request something of your own, please see this post for characters I write for and two super brief guidelines. thank you for reading, sunflower <3

[jazeswhbhaven]

Read the long hair WHB ask and I keep thinking- HAVE YOU DONE A HAIR BRAIDING ONE YET?! Please it would be so good!! May I request it? For the kings and maybe Gamigin and Andrealphus too?

Oooo I don't think I've done a braiding one just yet, anon. Thank you for waiting on this!

Gamigin: His hair is so soft, long, and pretty. He was delighted when you mentioned wanting to braid it, so much in fact he couldn't sit still and his staff was making alot of noise. But he's taller than you, so he has to sit on the floor and you in a chair that's a bit higher than normal so you can braid his hair comfortably. While you're doing so he's absolutely still, almost in a trance. The other Paradise Lost nobles beg for you to keep coming back and braiding his hair as that's the only time he's quiet. He also keeps the braids in his hair for a while until you come back to redo them.

Andrealphus: This is a true bonding moment for you and him. It all started when you offered to braid in a couple of angel feathers inside of his braid, and he really liked how you did it. Also, each time he likes to hold your hands idly in his running his fingers along yours just to make sure it's you that's touching his hair and not someone else. He will only allow this from you and no one else. He likes to hum or sing while you braid his hair and doesn't mind telling you a story about his battles or travels. By the time you're finished, he offers to braid your hair too, even if it's short.

Kings time~

Satan: His hair so fluffy and unruly sometimes, you'd think that it was be difficult to braid, but it's surprisingly soft and easy to work with. He's a bit fidgety, but it's nothing you can't handle by giving him an empty threat if he doesn't let you finish. But this doesn't work (as much) so the braids are uneven but it got done. He doesn't care because he ends up messing them up anyway so you can do it again because he likes the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

Mammon: Well uh...his hair is a bit short for braiding 😭 but perhaps you can do tiny ones? But then you remember you could just add extensions and braid his hair that way, maybe? The complicated part is solved, Mammon just grows his hair out for you and apparently, his hair grows quite fast depending on what vitamins and food he ingests. While you wait though, he braids your hair instead and he's quite okay at it! Even though his hands are large he's very delicate and precise. Once his hair does grow out, you return the favor, and he's quite pleased. He loves bonding with you this way.

Beelzebub: His hair is a bit tricky as well since it's always style in a mullet fashion. But when you expressed interest in wanting to braid his hair, he decides to chop it all off and regrow it all the same length. But in that time he forgot why he was growing his hair out to begin with. Thankfully you have Bael's hair to braid though and he kinda looks like Beel? It also soothes him when you braid his hair because you idly run your fingers through his scalp too. When Beel finally remembers why he grew his hair out he's mildly jealous that you spent so much time with Bael. You're whisked away in a flash so you can braid his hair now.

Leviathan: He didn't want you to touch his hair at all. It's always styled perfectly how he wants it without any change in routine or length. But when you start wandering over to Barbatos to offer to braid his hair, suddenly Levi changes his mind and takes you to his room to braid his hair. He doesn't entirely hate it, though he says your craftsmanship could use a little more fine tuning on the thickness and length of each braid. A pretty nice effect is when you take them down and his hair is wavy.

Lucifer: He only allows you to do one single braid in his hair, on the side of his face. Perhaps it's because he doesn't want you behind him staring at his bleeding wings the entire time, which is a valid thing for him to be concerned about. So you sit on his lap facing him to do the braid and he holds you steady with his arms. It seems intimate what you two are doing, but neither of you mind it. In fact he requests for you to do it often when you visit.

Belphegor: When his hair isn't slicked back with whatever mystery hair product he puts in it...his hair is quite long. If he washes it...it's even bouncy and soft with loose waves toward the ends. He lets you braid his hair quite often, mostly because it helps him fall asleep and he enjoys the feeling of your fingers in his hair. You even have time to do various styles of braids and he wakes up with a new look. Now if you could get him to stay awake so you don't have to shift his heavy body in order to properly braid his hair...then it would be easier.

Asmodeus: Goodness, this devil's hair is so damn long. It would take you forever to even attempt to braid it. You're unsure how he even does it or who does it. But it's okay, the parts of his hair that isn't in the large braid can still be braided, that is if you can keep him off you each time your fingers go near his face. He keeps trying to kiss them, lick them, bite them, and he even had an orgasm when you accidentally yanked on his hair. Once again, you aren't sure how he got his giant braid done, but you figure it out while still keeping your clothes on. He enjoys your company a lot though and promises to behave if you just want to braid his hair, but he can't control if he's poppin' a boner during because you're so close in proximity to his body.

[purriteen]

Control - Coriolanus Snow, act i.

“Dulce puella malum est” / “Woman is a sweet poison" -Ovid

synopsis: A handsome young congressman catches your eye. After your one-night stand, your paths soon cross once more and it turns out he holds more power over your future than you thought.

warnings: smut, relatively vanilla, reader has mommy issues, somewhat ooc Coriolanus cause canon Snow has 0 rizz, a little misogyny if you squint (?), more to come in act ii. no use of y/n.

this can be read as a standalone.

author’s note: hopefully you guys don’t mind the difference in format compared to AdVS, I tried to make this less rushed and bare-bones 🫶🏻

I can’t believe I just used the word rizz. I’m so sorry.

(side note: I've no idea if there's any such thing as congress in Panem, but fuck it, I say he's gotta put in a little work before he becomes president)

red text - Snow's thoughts, pink text - reader's thoughts

act ii

He’d met you at some dull fundraiser gala. In your little pale pink dress, you’d immediately stood out from the crowd. There was something so innocent about your appearance, with your glossy pink lips and subtle eyeliner, the modest but luscious braid your hair had been done into. You looked ethereal - nothing like the other women of the Capitol, in their over-the-top vibrant coloured hair and their tacky avant-garde dresses. 

  Avantgarde - what a pretentious word. Trashy and conceited would be more accurate, although such taunts were better left to the districts.

  Oh, and those striking eyes which he soon realised were looking right at him.

  You weren’t ashamed to be caught staring, that much he could tell by the look on your face. He found himself intrigued by the contrast - your girlishly charming getup paired with the almost flirtatious hint in your eyes as you smiled at him. No, coquettish was more fitting a choice to describe the way you carried yourself - you were just demure enough to give off the impression that you simply didn’t realise the effect your presence must’ve had on most men you encountered.

  You were delighted as you watched him make his way over to you, stretching out his hand and introducing himself. Like a moth to a flame. You eagerly accepted, your perfectly manicured hand so very soft and light in his. No ring on your finger - he counted that as a win.

  He quickly recognised your last name. You were no one important, that much he knew, but there was something so enticing about you. Something so intoxicating about your presence.

  You on the other hand instantly recognised him from your days back at the Academy. Coriolanus Snow, professor Click’s star pupil. He was two years older than you, but rumours of his academic prowess, and of course, what happened to him after graduation, still circulated around the school by the time you yourself had been a senior.   He was quite the enigma -  he’d disappeared for an entire summer and returned a changed man, one cold and hungring for power that, as the heir to the Plinth fortune and the protege of the terrifying doctor Gaul herself, was well within his reach. He’d already begun climbing the social ladder too - last year he’d been appointed a seat in congress. 

  Many of your friends had harboured a crush on him, but he’d never allowed anyone to get close enough to take the plunge. Not even girls his own age, as far as you knew. 

  Even after graduating, and his brief disappearance from high society, you would’ve recognised that head of majestic blonde hair anywhere. He was tall and lean, of which the former was rare among those who’d grown up during the dark days. In his perfectly fitted black suit, crisp white button-down and burgundy tie, he practically embodied power; the fresh ideals and ambitions of this generation personified. 

  After a few dances and drinks shared, you had ended up in the back of his car, making surprisingly casual conversation about a new policy he’d put forth the other week. You could care less, but the effect it could have on your taxes gave you reason enough to feign interest. Besides - he could be a good friend to have in the future, if he continued down his path towards becoming a prominent politician like he always wanted. It wouldn’t hurt for him to think you were actually interested in his line of work.

  “Tell me, your last name - I don’t recognise it. What does your family do exactly?” He inquires.

  You’re somewhat caught off guard by the question. 

  Was it that obvious that you didn’t care for or know anything beyond the basics about this topic? Was he trying to spare you the humiliation of continuing the conversation by changing the subject?

  Trying to pull yourself back together, you swallow the lump in your throat and look up at him. No man or boy had affected you in this way since you were in middle school, and it both frightened and intrigued you. 

  Pull yourself together.

  “Oh, my parents own one of the biggest shares in district 4’s fishing industry. But where we make the real money from is the pearls gathered from the clam digging. Naturally they’re shipped off to district 1 for jewellery production and the likes, but we earn a decent cut from it.” You explain, a smooth and nonchalant tone to your voice, despite the nervous wreck that you were under his scrutiny. It was a good thing you’d learned to conceal your emotions early on - but clearly, so had he. You could tell he wasn’t quite buying your indifferent-heiress act.

“My parents keep trying to groom my incompetent little brother to become the heir, though. Shame.” You sigh, wanting to take his mind off of your possible faux pas. 

  He gives an understanding nod, his hand caressing the skin just above your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.   “I’m sorry, I must be boring you with all this talk of politics. Let’s not talk about that now.” His voice drops just the slightest bit lower, and the look on his face sends a jolt of excitement straight down your spine, before landing right between your legs. 

“I may not be as knowledgeable as you, but don’t you think I’ve an interest in politics too, hm? It does concern my life and future as well. Especially all those bills and reforms being put forth as of late that’ll impact the family business.” You retort, although keeping your tone playful, which earns you a bemused glint in his icy blue eyes. He takes a couple seconds to consider his answer before he opens his mouth to speak again. 

  “Well I’m sure you do. But really, a sweet girl like you shouldn’t have to worry about that. At least, tonight you won’t have to, if you’ll let me.. take your mind off things.” He suggests, leaning closer as his gaze falls on your lips, thumb caressing your chin. 

  His playfully dismissive tone, the way he sabotages any attempt at proving yourself, everything about him is so very demeaning and arrogant. You want to hate it, you do hate it, the way he makes you feel like you’re no longer in control, but something about his attitude has you weak in the knees. Perhaps it’s the posca, or the way his slender thumb drags across your bottom lip that’s keeping you from thinking straight.

  “I do, I do need to worry about that, I’ve a stake in our earnings too,” You say softly, close to a whisper, followed by a few moments of silence as the two of you gaze at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. You certainly don’t plan on blinking first.   “But maybe, just for tonight..” You whisper almost inaudibly, allowing your voice to trail off.

  Against your better judgement you find yourself leaning in, inviting him to kiss you. And so he does. His warm lips crash onto yours, smearing the remainders of your pink gloss even more, his knee nestling its way in between your thighs within a manner of minutes.

  You gasp softly as he makes contact with your clothed mound, gently pushing him away. You flash him a kittenish grin, hand lingering on his chest.

  “Shouldn’t we wait until we get to your apartment? It would be quite the scandal if you were caught getting it on with a stranger in the backseat of your vehicle..” You allow your hand to glide lower, keeping eye contact as it dips all the way down to his belt. You hear his breath hitch in his throat, and some of your usual confidence returns at the confirmation that he wants you just as bad.

  “Well you’re not making it easy for me, dove.” He breathes out as he rests his forehead against yours, looking about as eager to rip your clothes off as you were his.    “I’m very sorry then, congressman Snow. But surely a man of your standing ought to have some more self-control?” You tease, managing to elicit a breathy chuckle from him.

  He soon pulls away, much to your disappointment. “I suppose so. We’re almost at my apartment, fortunately.” He wipes some smudged lipgloss from your chin with his thumb, before he presses a button on the inside of the car door right next to you to roll up the thick opaque partition previously separating the back from his driver, sat in the front seat.

  After giving the man the rest of the night off, he quickly ushers you out of the car and towards the entrance of one of those flashy new apartment buildings in the city circle. Your flat on Scholars road, which you’d intended to sell ever since you graduated university last year, paled in comparison.

  Even the foyer reeked of opulence and excess-everything. The marble stairs were lined with gilded railings, as was the elevator he so swiftly escorted you into. You obliged, and it didn’t take long for him to have you pressed against the wall whilst he trailed hot kisses down your neck. 

  You were only brought out of your daze when the elevator dinged, doors sliding open to reveal a lavish penthouse, somewhat resembling the apartment your parents had recently purchased in one of the remodelled Corso buildings.

  You've only barely taken your coat off when he swoops you up, which causes you to let out a surprised squeal as he begins to carry you towards what you can only assume is the master bedroom. He courteously places you down on the ground again, starting to undo his waistcoat as you unzip your gown and let it fall to the floor with a soft thud.

  He looks up at you through hazy eyes, blown wide with lust, stopping his efforts to unbutton his shirt when he sees your naked form. 

  Closing the gap between you, his hand delicately encircles your waist as the other caresses your cheek. "I wasn't expecting such an indecent choice of underwear paired with a pretty dress like that.." He murmurs onto your lips, ensnaring you in a cloud of lust and the nearly overwhelming scent of roses as his tongue slips past your lips, hands working behind your back to unclasp your lacy black and pink bra.

  It doesn't take long until you're both on his bed, your back pressed against his chest and his hand down your flimsy panties. His mouth trails hickeys and love bites down your exposed neck as one of his long, slender fingers pumps in and out of your sopping wet cunt. "Dirty little thing aren't you? Spreading your legs so easily for me.." He rasps against the shell of your ear, relishing the way your walls clamp down on his lone digit. "Needy too, I see," He chuckles, easily adding a second finger although receiving only a whimper in response.

  You whine at the stretch, thighs tremoring underneath him. With his fervent attacks on all the things that have you weak in the knees, you’re unable to focus on anything other than the pleasure. Just this once, you allow him to indulge you. Heat starts to build in your stomach as his pace quickens.

  “Quite shameful of you to sleep with a man you just met, isn’t it?” He whispers in your ear, his voice husky and roguish. Your cheeks flush bright red at the thought, knowing your family would hardly approve, and neither would the public.

  The last few months your father had been trying to set you up with the heir to a family who made their money manufacturing luxury furniture out of all things; truly second-rate. You’d always been ambitious, even if you’d never been particularly keen on pursuing a career - you knew you could do better, that you could truly marry up and attain the life of luxury and leisure your mother wanted for you, but he wouldn’t listen to either of you. If this got out though, he’d be both furious and humiliated, no matter how many times you’d already told him that you intended to do better for yourself.  

Wasn’t that what you were doing anyways? This was a matter of securing a match, a potential betrothal to a man who could easily give you everything you wanted. Yes, that was it. This wasn’t just some shameful rendezvous - if Coriolanus himself saw it that way, you’d make sure he came around one way or another.

  “Please, stop teasing,” you manage to mewl out, though it seems to have no effect other than to amuse him. 

  “What makes you think I’m teasing? Just be good for me and let me work this pretty pussy open.. Wouldn't want it to hurt for you later on, yeah?” He almost grunts in your ear when you clamp down tighter in response, his fingers coated in your slick as he pumps them in and out.

  “Look at that sopping wet pussy, hmm? Must’ve been a long time since a man last made you feel this good.” He curses lowly under his breath, carefully sliding a third finger inside, hushing you as you whine at the intrusion. 

  (He was right- it had, but he didn’t need to know that. You already felt powerless enough as is.)

  “Doing so good for me.” He tilts your head back to give you a gentle kiss, in stark contrast to his unrelenting ministrations, although his soft lips manage to soak up most of your muffled cries.

  Finally he seems to decide it’s enough, just as you’re nearing your orgasm, making his sudden retreat particularly frustrating. Nevertheless you eagerly oblige him as he manoeuvres you onto your back, only pulling back to give himself space to fully undress.

  You watch with anticipation as he undoes the rest of his shirt buttons, discarding the garment at the foot end of the bed before moving onto his pants. He gestures towards your pushed-aside panties as he undoes his trousers. 

  “You gonna take those off, dove? Or do I have to do everything myself?” He gibes, and your cheeks flush red as you hurry to lift your hips up and pull down your undies. 

  When you look back up your words get caught in your throat, eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of him palming his cock, already having discarded his dress pants and boxers on the ground.   He’s bigger than you thought. The shaft is fairly girthy and just a little darker than the pale complexion on the rest of his body, the tip a reddish pink and beaded with precum. There’s a tidy patch of blonde hair at his base, just a shade or two darker than his platinum locks. You didn’t realise that was his natural hair colour. 

  “That’s better.” He groans softly at the sight of your now bare slit, still slick with your own juices and practically begging to be touched.   “C’mon, spread your legs a little wider for me.” He taps at your thigh, and you swallow thickly as you do so. You’re certainly no virgin, but so far he’s the biggest you’ve seen. At least he didn’t ask me to suck it, you think to yourself.

  His smug grin grows even wider when you wordlessly obey him, positioning himself on top of you and starting to rub the head of his cock slowly, teasingly up and down your puffy folds. One hand on his shaft, the other next to your head. 

  You let out a low moan as his tip catches on your swollen clit, which causes him to glance up at your flustered face.   “Oh, I won’t tease you any more. I’m sorry baby.” He coos at you, voice dripping with faux empathy. You don’t get much time to think about it though, as he soon places his tip at your soaked entrance, giving a firm thrust that already manages to nestle his cock about half as deep as your body would allow. He groans at the feeling, followed by a nearly inaudible gasp as he feels the ring of muscle squeezing his cock. 

  He lets out a soft chuckle, leaning down to press his forehead against yours as he grabs your ankles and lifts your legs up to wrap around his waist. You humour him, heels digging into his back as you cling onto his muscled torso. His dominant hand reclaims its place beside your head whilst the other glides down lower to grasp at your hip, holding you in place so that he can continue without interruptions. 

  Already knowing it’ll be a tight fit, he goes slow in sliding himself all the way in, which you’re much grateful for. The stretch is already enough to make your eyes water. Finally he bottoms out, the two of you releasing a moan in unison when his tip collides with your cervix. Yours of relief, his of frustration. 

  There’s still another inch or two to go, but he’ll have to work on that over time. 

  Seeing that pitifully doe-eyed look on your face, your glassy eyes and wobbly bottom lip, he leans in to give you a gentle kiss, his hand leaving your waist to instead caress your rosy cheek, soothing you as best as he could.   “Taking it so well for me, mkay? Just stay still and let me do the work, pretty girl.” He mumbles onto your lips, his mouth soaking up your moans as he slowly pulls out and pushes back in, staying true to his word and thoroughly working your pussy open. 

  Your hands relent their position clutching the bedsheets beneath you, instead taking their place at the back of his neck in a surprisingly intimate moment, which he in turn welcomes with initiating a more enthusiastic kiss.   After a couple more thrusts he starts to grow impatient, and so he experimentally tries to coax himself deeper, but you only whine and press your hands to his pelvis in response, so he backs off. 

  You pull away slightly, giving yourself enough room to speak. “Too much, ‘s too deep,” you sniffle, internally scolding yourself for already allowing him to get you in such a sordid, outright pitiful state. 

  Coriolanus on the other hand seems pleased with himself, swiping at your tear-stained cheeks with his thumb. “I’m sorry, dove. I’ll go easy on you,” He lies, giving you a reassuring kiss on the forehead. Even in your fuzzy-headed, wrecked state, you think you can make out a sliver of empathy in his eyes. Perhaps even affection.

And yet it wasn't long before he was thrusting in and out of you again at a slowly but surely accelerating pace, just barely grazing your cervix with each thrust, enough to keep you on edge without explicitly breaking his promise. With the few brain cells left that aren't entirely consumed by him - his scent, the feeling of his hands on you, his dick pumping in and out so expertly, his arched brows furrowed in concentration, everything about him - you manage to preserve some semblance of dignity, biting back all the pleas you wanted to make. This small action is enough to give you the - albeit not very convincing - illusion of control.

You watch as his lips purse in dissatisfaction, immediately turning inwards to try and figure out what you've done wrong. But before you can dig any deeper, he's pulling back and straightening his back, his knees planted firmly on the mattress beneath you. His arms make quick work of untangling your legs from around his waist, instead pressing your knees to your chest and holding you in place with his large, pale hands.

The new position leaves you feeling so exposed and vulnerable in a way you'd never allowed yourself to before. Your mother's warnings not to let any man, especially no stranger, take control of you were always at the back of your head during your previous trysts, eating away at your already barren arousal. But with him, with this near stranger, everything was different. The foreignness of it all scared you, but not enough to fight off the nearly overwhelming pleasure that each of his unrelenting thrusts brought you. Each time the head of his cock brushes against that spongy spot deep inside of you, it sends a jolt of pleasure through you, more often than not accompanied by a raspy moan or a sharp inhale.

With this new angle, everything he does feels so much filthier, with that smug smile on his face as he stares down at you, observing your flustered, contorted form. All at his hands. You were entirely his to do with as he pleased, his in every sense of the word, even if just for tonight. You knew you'd regret this moment of treacherous pleasure and intimacy by sunrise, but in this very moment, you couldn't help but enjoy it. Being completely at his mercy.

Before you knew it you could feel your orgasm approaching. As if able to read your mind, Coriolanus repositioned his left forearm to stretch across the back of your knees, allowing him to use his free hand to fervently rub at your previously neglected clit. A gasp that quickly morphed into a throaty moan escaped your lips, although his mouth soon latched onto yours again, muffling the lewd sounds coming from your mouth.

Your hips buck up against his touch, walls clenching him tighter as you rapidly approach your climax. Your hands claw at his shoulder blades as he keeps pistoning in and out of you, groaning frequently into your mouth. You can tell he's getting closer too by the sudden lack of precision in his movements, which you take great delight in.

Thank god it's a safe day today.

Just a couple moments later you go over the edge, your cunt spasming and gripping at his member like a vice as you cum hard. In this moment you're grateful for his aggressive kiss, as it manages to stifle the guttural moan ripped from your throat somewhat.

He soon follows suit. Releasing an animalistic groan into your mouth he shoves himself in all the way to the hilt, where his spend spills from his throbbing tip, revelling in the way you squeeze him even tighter in response to the deep penetration.

Finally, as you're both slowly coming down from your highs, he breaks the kiss and retreats, his eyes fixed on your groin as he slowly pulls out, watching as your lips cling onto his shaft.

It's like you're trying to suck him back in.

He slumps back next to you on the bed, and you both lay there for a few minutes catching your breaths in awkward silence.

You're nothing short of exhausted. That was likely the most intense sex you've ever had, and consequently, one of the strongest orgasms you've ever had.

Then, finally, he informs you that he's gonna take a shower and gets up, quickly heading towards the en-suite bathroom. The last thing on your mind before you drift off to sleep is his pale, sculpted back and the fresh scratch marks you just left on it.

[pigeonwhumps]

Meeting

Operation Badger masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump @augustofwhump

@fleur-a-whump

August of Whump day 14: dehumanisation | darkness | alone

Series inspired by @/i-eat-worlds (not bc I think it's in any way similar but bc I've been reading their Starcross and went "wait aliens and living weapons and what if humans trained living weapons against aliens and-" so this wouldn't have been written without them)

Josiah, a soldier and a handler for Earth Security, meets his new assets.

927 words

CWs: minor whump (aged 14 and up), multiple whumpees, dehumanisation, talk of people as assets, living weapons, talk of punishment, scared whumpees, brief mention of past death

Josiah skims the briefing for a final time before folding it into a tiny square and stuffing it in his inside pocket. It only tells him what he already knows. This is an asset team, usual make-up, previous handler lost in a solo mission. There's the usual photos and descriptions, but as long as none of them are malfunctioning too badly he'll do this on his own.

He raps on the metal door three times in quick succession. It opens shortly to reveal two teenagers standing at parade rest.

Only two are ready immediately. They can do better.

The one on the right is about 5', stocky, with pale skin and dirty blonde hair shorn short. The usual titanium plate replacing part of a mekanikisto's skull is painted with delicate, intricate flowers (not exactly what he'd class as acceptable decoration but he's not in charge of uniform, unfortunately). Pastel shorts are just visible under a very baggy t-shirt, and her eyes are narrowed slightly in a display of what's not quite outright hostility. This must be Ŝpalo. Youngest in the team at 14 years old, British mother, Texan father. Far too much spunk.

The boy beside her is a little taller. Dark and wiry, ginger locs flowing out from under a bright blue bandana, he doesn't take his eyes off Josiah. He's dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, but not from training, Josiah's pretty sure. He's just relaxing. This team has far too much unstructured downtime, and they're clearly not using it wisely. This is probably Viro. 17 years old, Grenadian, tradukinto.

There should be two more assets in here, and Josiah peers around Ŝpalo and Viro into the remarkably tidy dorm room. On one of the bottom bunks a third teenager is curled up, surrounded by bedding that doesn't quite touch them. Josiah can't see them very well, just the ends of a few dark, elaborate braids curling over their trembling shoulder.

The final asset is frozen, standing beside the bunk in overlarge fleecy pyjamas, holding a jug of water and staring at Josiah with large, wide eyes. They have light brown skin, short dark hair, and a port-wine stain on their left cheek. Josiah guesses this is Granda. Aged 19, Filipino-Chinese, the normie.

Which by process of elimination makes the person on the bed the mensoleganto. Luno. Aged 15 with DVD, Bangladeshi heritage, and they really should be better than this.

"At ease," Josiah mutters. Two out of four isn't too bad, he supposes, for a team that's just lost their handler, but really. They're old enough to know better.

Ŝpalo and Viro relax their stances, although Ŝpalo keeps her head high, jutting her chin out. "Who are you, sir?"

"Sergeant Wellsmith, your new handler."

Granda straightens suddenly and salutes, nearly dropping the jug. "Sir."

"At ease, Granda. Set that jug down before you drop it."

Granda blushes as they obey, setting it down beside Luno.

Ŝpalo and Viro exchange a loaded glance.

"What do you want from us?" asks Ŝpalo, fists clenching at her sides. "Are we starting training with you now, sir? Because–"

"Ŝpalo," Josiah says sharply, and she cuts off, chin tilting up, eyes narrowed, still looking angry–

No. No, not angry.

Scared.

Determined, and scared. Why is she–

Viro moves to block Granda and Luno from his sight. Oh. Huh. This is new. Assets aren't supposed to act like this.

"If you're trying to hide someone, you don't move to where they are," Josiah reminds him. It must be a reminder, mustn't it? He should've learnt that by now. It's part of basic training.

"They did nothing wrong," says Ŝpalo. "Punish me, not them, I'm the one who was defiant."

Very defensive. This is interesting. An unusual asset team, to be sure. And it seems his predecessor was very heavy on individual punishments. Unfair ones?

"If I was going to punish anyone, it would be a team punishment. But I've only just arrived, and I'm not." His gaze flickers to Luno again. "What's their condition?"

"What do you care? They're just a weapon, aren't they? So long as they're working why does it matter?"

"I require my assets to be in good working condition," replies Josiah stiffly. "And I want to know if they're not. Ŝpalo, if you don't want to earn your team a punishment then I suggest you rapidly improve your behaviour."

Ŝpalo looks off-balance for the first time, eyes darting around their teammates before she falls completely silent. Viro's eyebrows knit but he doesn't say anything. Good. Better.

Josiah's not impressed with his predecessor. Couldn't even get Ŝpalo's attitude under control. You don't want a mekanikisto with that sort of an attitude. Don't want to end up with another Omega team situation.

"They'll be in working order for their next training session, sir," says Granda quickly. Too quickly. Very eager to please. Does that rate higher than accuracy in this asset? He hopes not.

"Good. Do they need anything to assist with that?"

"No, sir."

"Right. I want to meet you all properly before we start training together. I'll give you ten minutes to sort yourselves out and meet me in the blue briefing room. You can wear civvies."

"Yes, sir," says Granda crisply. Ŝpalo scowls. Luno doesn't even look round and Viro just looks weary.

Good grief. He has a lot to train into these assets. Looking at their results so far they'll be worth it in the end, but they don't even have the right attitude. There's a long way to go with this team.

[blank-potato]

Flowers for Bel Tine

Pairing: Rand al’Thor x Reader

Summary: Reader wants to confess her feelings to Rand during the Bel Tine festival, but things don't quite go to plan.

A/N: I am writing this out of desperation because there are near next to no Rand al'Thor X Reader fanfics and I've searched every site. This fic is set in showverse, before season one and the ta'veren are 18. Also, I realised once I finished it that the Bel Tine tradition is actually that the girl is supposed to ask the guy to dance and the girl is supposed to put the flower in the guy's hair but for the sake of the fic and my sanity ignore canon.

❤︎❤︎❤︎

Nervous but excited was one way to describe how you were feeling. Bel Tine was fast approaching and you were finally ready to do something about certain unspoken feelings towards a certain redhead farm boy that had caught your eye as soon as you met.

It had been a bright, warm summer’s day when your family had arrived in Edmond’s Field. A long journey, across distant lands, searching for a place to call home. You had found yourself missing everything you had once known—the rolling hills and sharp peaks of the Borderlands.

Sat on the edge of the village green, staring out at the landscape so unfamiliar and new, in your homesick haze and uncertain worries, a boy about your age appeared, standing right in front of you. His smile was shy but kind, just as nervous as you were, a basket of strawberries in hand and the best of intentions.

And from that moment on, you were infatuated with him—the lopsided grin, the way his red hair caught the sunlight, the quiet confidence he carried when he spoke, all the things that made him Rand al’Thor. But despite your feelings for him, he had relegated you to a "little sister" role. A relationship you once cherished but, as time passed and you grew older, began to resent.

As he grew into the man that you were so deeply in love with, it became clear to most people around the two of you how much you longed for him. But Rand was none the wiser, being as dense as a rock and as clueless as a lamb on shearing day when it came to girls.

However for the past few months, you had been working on making your feelings as clear as you could without embarrassing yourself and now, finally, the day had arrived where your hard work would either pay off or come crashing down like a poorly built haystack.

The festival was in full swing. Lanterns swayed gently in the evening breeze, music and laughter carrying on the air. You had always loved this time of year when the village came alive in a way it rarely did otherwise.

Your heart was abuzz with nerves and anticipation as if a fire had been lit under your feet.  Your eyes leave the window and focus on Egwene as she picks out flowers to put in your hair. The flowers represented that there was someone she was interested in, an old Bel Tine tradition, you would not fail to use to your advantage.

“Who are you hoping to attract with these?” Egwene asks as she gently braids the flowers into your hair. She had a mischievous twinkle in her eye, her tone teasing but affectionate.

“I fear I should rather die than tell you,” you reply immediately and you can say with all certainty that you mean them.

“Die? How dramatic of you.”

"I only speak the truth, Egwene. So, who are your flowers for, then?" you say with a playful lilt.

Egwene takes a long, measured breath, but lets it out slowly, a sigh that sounds like she’s giving up on answering her own question.

"That's what I thought."

❤︎❤︎❤︎

As the festival is in full swing, you feel your pulse quicken as you stand at the edge of the dancing circle, enjoying the festivities from a safe distance. You see him from across the green, your face heating up at just the thought of approaching him... but song after song plays, and you remain in the same position you’ve been in for over half an hour.

Catching glimpses of him, disappearing in and out of the crowd, you feel both excitement and dread tightening your chest.

Mat comes up to you, a playful smirk already plastered on his face. “If I were a betting man, I’d say you had become a statue.”

“Oh hush, Mat.”

“I haven’t seen you move from this position for what feels like forever. Are you not planning on dancing tonight?” he pauses, taking in your appearance, particularly the flowers in your hair. “Or are you waiting for a special someone?”

You load up a sarcastic remark, but it dies in your throat when your eyes drift back out to the crowd and land on Rand. His hand is in Egwene’s, their smiles directed at each other as they sway to the music.

The voices around you fade into nothingness, and a sharp ache pierces your chest. Suddenly, it was just the two of them, and there was nothing but the stark, painful clarity of what you’d been too blind to see all along. The voice in your head berates you for being so foolish, for being so blind to what had been in front of you the whole time.

Her. 

It had always been her.

You don’t even let Mat finish his sentence before you excuse yourself in a hurry, your heart heavy in your chest, your breaths shallow, as you feel so utterly small and exposed.

You run out towards the woods, needing somewhere quiet to hide, somewhere to let the tears fall unnoticed.

The songs play on into the night, quieter now in the distance from where you’ve taken refuge. You hug yourself tightly, your arms wrapping around your body like vines, trying to keep from unravelling entirely.

You start to unbraid your hair, picking out flower after flower, each one discarded at your feet in frustration.

“Whole lot of good it did me…” you mutter bitterly, tossing another flower to the ground.

Just then, a voice breaks through the stillness.

“Whole lot of good what did you?”

You glance up to see Rand standing there, his brows drawn in confusion and concern. Taking notice of the flowers scattered on the forest floor in front of you and the loose petals still tangled in your hair, he asks, “Who is he?” His voice is low, a deep warmth beneath the hesitancy that sends shivers through your body. But you feign ignorance, unwilling to make yourself even more vulnerable.

“What?”

“The man that has your heart,” he clarifies, stepping closer.

“Does it matter? He didn’t ask me to dance…” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

Rand sits next to you, his presence grounding yet inexplicably nerve-wracking. He looks at you intently, his expression unreadable but earnest.

“Then what a fool he must be.”

You find yourself bitterly smiling at the irony, shaking your head. “You don’t believe me?” Rand continues, his knees now knocking into your own.

“You are the most brilliant, strong, and beautiful person I know. Anyone would be lucky to have you,” his words were full of sincerity, and you swear your heart stopped for a moment. Looking away from his intense, unwavering gaze, you try to collect yourself and your emotions. These were the words of a friend consoling another friend, and you had to remind yourself of that.

Finding issue in you looking away from him, he reaches up towards your tear-stained face and gently turns it back to him. His touch is soft, despite the callouses of his work-worn hands, and something about it felt comforting, like home. It took everything in you in that moment not to fall apart completely, not to give in to what felt so right.

“You should go…”

“And leave you like this?”

“Your being here is causing me more pain than it would if you were gone…”

You watched as his face twisted into a look of confusion. The dam of your feelings was so close to overflowing. Too long had you kept your love for him secret, if you didn't let him know now…you fear you never would.

“It is unbearable,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of your confession.

“Being in love with you is unbearable. Whether you are near or far, my heart reaches out to you like a flower to the sun, longing for its warmth.”

“In love with me–?” Rand starts but you cut him off with a strangled chuckle.

“I thought I had… But you and Egwene—” you say before you’re cut off by a sudden, firm interruption from Rand.

“Me and Egwene?”

“I saw you with her.”

“There’s been a misunderstanding, a grave one,” he says, his voice full of urgency as he takes your hands in his.

You look into his eyes and think the emotion there must be pity. It had to be pity; there was no other explanation.

“You don’t need to protect me. I understand… and I’m happy for you both.”

"No, no, I was just giving Egwene and Perrin a little push. Jealousy works wonders…" he says softly. “But if I had known…I would’ve told you long ago that my heart beats for you too.”

“You were right.”

Rand gives you a look of confusion, his brows furrowed slightly. “Right about what?”

“You really are a fool,” you say with a soft, watery chuckle, before pulling him in for a long-awaited kiss.

As his hands find themselves wrapped up in your hair, his touch is careful, reverent, and full of the unspoken words you’d been waiting to hear. It feels like everything you’d ever hoped for.

[pascaloverx]

As It Was

Chapter Two

previous chapter next chapter

Summary: The protagonist seems to be torn between the handsome FBI agent, Steve Rogers, and her beloved ex-husband, James Barnes. The date has brought up a range of feelings and questions that are leaving her mind and heart in conflict. The future holds many challenges and choices for her.

Warnings: future use of violence, inappropriate language and future adult scenes. Minors are advised not to read or engage with this story.

I went towards the main door, thinking about what excuse I would give to justify my delay in answering the door. Fortunately, as I opened the door, I came face to face with a deeply concerned and observant Sam Wilson.

"You noticed that there's a suspicious car parked in front of the Davis' house?" Sam says as he enters, and I end up noticing a black car outside as well.

"Tell me you understood what I meant with that message and that you're prepared even without having a full context?" I say as I lock the doors very securely, hoping that Sam has alerted our friends.

"Wanda and Yelena are heading to a cabin that your friend Dave said would be safe for us to keep anyone in danger. I deduced that the problem was with Bucky, so I decided to come personally to help you. Judging by the time of your message and that car out there watching, someone is likely to come with a warrant to search this house," Sam says as he looks for signs of anyone surveilling or eavesdropping on our conversation in the house. Despite Wilson being Barnes' partner for years, after the divorce, most of our friends ended up siding with me. A year after my split with Barnes, the partnership between James and Sam ended too. Neither of them ever told me anything about it, so I chose to believe that the reason was the distance that grew between them after the accident that happened to Barnes.

"Thanks for convincing Dave for me, I know he probably didn't like helping B…" Before I finish speaking, James steps out of his hiding place and continues to stare at Sam. Sam and James have this thing where they love to engage in a silent treatment with intense looks that make it seem like they either want to kill each other or kiss.

"You don't need to worry, Melisa. Dave said that a compromising photo of this big guy in front of us, and he's willing to do anything." Sam's voice starts to deepen more than usual, and I think he's trying to sound threatening, but it doesn't quite have the desired effect. James continues to stare at him, now with a smug little smile at the corner of his mouth. Two complete idiots.

"If you two are done being complete idiots, I really need to go to my date, and I need my ex-husband to leave this house. Now!" I don't have much patience for the squabbles between these two. Since I've been around them, they seem to compete for power more with intense glares and conversations than coexisting harmoniously.

"Are you sure you're going to have a good date tonight, considering any nonsense that this big oaf might have dragged you into?" Sam says, keeping his gaze on James, who, in turn, seems uncomfortable but continues to stare back at Sam.

"I am, especially because you and the rest of our informal and probably illegal team are going to help me clean up this handsome idiot's mess, and I might end my evening in the arms of a tall, muscular blond guy in his early forties." Am I a terrible person for wanting Barnes to care that I'm going on a date? Probably. Am I going to change that about myself? Probably not.

"I don't think you should go on a date with anyone your father arranged, it's dangerous." It's the first time I can clearly hear James' voice. There's something different about it, as if it carries a tremendous weight. Now that I can look at him more closely, I miss his hair long enough for him to tie it back but not long enough to braid it.

"So your plan is for me to cancel the date that's been scheduled for weeks, last-minute, just because my father is dangerous, while my dangerous father was the mastermind behind this date?" I'm not sure if I can fully express my complete indignation with words, but I'm trying.

"I just don't think it's safe for you to go alone to meet a stranger that your father thinks is suitable for you while I can assure you that your father is responsible for the situation I find myself in now." Barnes is now looking at me as if he desperately wants to convince me to stay, while Sam observes the both of us.

"How about you deal with this crappy situation instead of worrying about me like I'm a little child?" I say as I search for my purse to touch up my makeup. To be honest, I don't want to go on this date. I've been putting it off as much as I could, first because of meeting Barnes. Then because I wasn't ready to date after the divorce. Meanwhile, my father kept reminding me at every opportunity of what my life would be like with Steve Rogers. He even took advantage of both Steve and me being single to force me into this date that's supposedly going to "change my life."

"The old motorcycle of James is in the garage; he can leave from the back while I distract the agents in front of the house. Be careful, and ask Dave to let me know as soon as possible that you guys are safe. I'm sure you'll manage, but Sam, please, protect him." I try to speak softly into Sam's ear while Barnes is gathering some things he left here.

Me and the boys left my house almost at the same time so that the police wouldn't notice that James was leaving through the back with the motorcycle. Sam planned to wait for James two blocks from here and hide him in his car. I tried to attract a lot of unnecessary attention, placed a bag in the trunk, walked slowly, and looked around everywhere. The key was to make the agents watching me go after me. I sent a message to Rogers letting him know he wouldn't have to pick me up at home and that I would meet him at the restaurant.I arrived at the restaurant, which is probably the fanciest restaurant in town, feeling unprepared for a date. I've had post-divorce dates, but they've all been disasters. The truth is, everything would have been easier if I had divorced my husband without loving him, but I did love him. Maybe I still do, even to this day. As I entered the venue and inquired about the reservation under the name Rogers, a noticeably handsome man stood up automatically. He was dressed in a black suit with a gray dress shirt. His hair was moderately long, and he had a well-groomed beard. He had a casually nonchalant expression, even somewhat apathetic. Maybe he, like me, was regretting coming on this date. Perhaps he's also trying to forget someone, or maybe he already thinks we won't work out even before we give it a try. But I need a good alibi in case they try to say I'm helping Barnes, so I have to spend at least tonight in the company of this man.

"Sorry for the delay, I had a little situation to take care of before..." I say as he pulls out the chair for me to sit. He sits down and lets out a sigh as if he disapproves of something I said.

"After a few years of training to become a good agent, I learned that punctuality is the main characteristic of a good soldier." He seems slightly stressed as he tells me something that reminds me of the praises my father gave to the man in front of me.

"So it's a good thing we're on a date and not in a military training zone trying to figure out who arrives more punctually." I definitely don't want to be here anymore, but I need to find a way to please Rogers. Because in the end, my ex-husband is being used as a scapegoat, possibly because of my father. I need him to want to be part of #TEAMBARNES.

"I apologize if I was rude, a true gentleman would have asked what happened for you to be late..." Now he seems to recognize that he came across as a jerk in our first interaction. I looked into his eyes, finally realizing how handsome Steve is. His beard is neatly groomed, his hair looks like it came from some fancy movie, and his black suit seems to have been carefully washed and ironed.

"Well, I had to have a very interesting chat with the police because apparently my ex-husband is under investigation, but we should focus on what's really important here. Do you prefer white wine, rosé, or red?" Changing the subject subtly is so complicated; it requires the kind of subtlety that I don't possess as one of my abilities.

"I personally prefer rosé wine, but white wine pairs well with grilled chicken and lemon. And I'm sorry to correct you, but I'm not in contact with my ex." As I speak, Steve signals to the waiter and orders the white wine I suggested and two plates of grilled chicken with lemon. I feel like I'm going to need two bottles of wine to survive this night. Until yesterday, my life was all about preparing lessons, teaching kids about literature, and deciding which romantic comedy pairs best with pizza at the end of the night.

"Not directly, but something tells me you don't believe he's guilty, which suggests either you blindly trust a man you're still in love with or you're in contact with him, and the police know about it."When I looked at Steve, he had a look of arrogance, as if he were telling the world that he was right to believe I still had feelings for my ex.

"Do you still feel something for Peggy?" I could bet I surprised him with that question by his reaction. When he nearly spilled his wine glass, I wondered where that confidence and arrogance were now.

"I don't see how that question is relevant." He says while adjusting his suit, trying desperately to compose himself without showing discomfort. I smile; he looks cute when he's uncomfortable.

"Considering your obvious affection for your ex-fiancée, I can say that if she needed your help, you would help her, regardless of how you feel romantically about her." One point for me, as I take the trouble to research the basics about the life of an FBI agent because the fact that my father wants me to meet him so badly scares me. To be honest, I wanted to know what skeletons Rogers had hidden in his closet.

"You do realize you're indirectly telling me that you've committed a crime and showing yourself to be a stalker, as I never mentioned my past romantic relationship during this dinner?" As he speaks, I take a sip of the wine in front of me.

"I can see that this meeting is going to throw out any conventions of first dates, so let me ask you something: why does a divorced woman believe her ex-husband's word more than the police?" Touché, he got me. This guy knows how to turn a first date conversation into an interrogation.

"I've known my ex-husband for a long time to know that if he was willing to neglect our relationship to serve the country, he wouldn't betray the country for any reason. I believe you would feel the same way if someone told you that your ex did something you knew her morals would never allow to happen." He smiles slightly as if he's thinking about how inconvenient I seem when I mention his ex.

"Since you seem to think you can do the police work better than she can, tell me who your suspects are." If looks could kill, mine would be arrested for the murder of Steve Grant Rogers, and he wouldn't regret it.

"I can only have this kind of conversation with you if you're willing to help me. Otherwise, let's pretend this conversation never happened, and that this date was a disaster." As the words leave my mouth, I feel like I'm being ruder than I should be. Perhaps if I weren't under pressure and thinking about James, I could be enjoying Rogers' company.

"I thought the fact that we're still talking about it would indicate that I'm willing to help," he says. This date is turning out to be one of the strangest and most intriguing I've had in years. In fact, it's the first one I've had since my dates with Bucky.

"The main suspect in using my ex-husband as a shield to commit crimes is my father," I say, leaning in close enough to Steve so that only he can hear this part of the conversation, but the chances of anyone else overhearing us are almost nonexistent. The restaurant is busy enough that I don't have to worry.

"You become more intriguing with every moment of this conversation. May I ask what your ex-husband has done that makes you believe in his innocence more than your father's?" He doesn't even bother pretending he's not questioning me, looking at me as if he can't believe what he's hearing.

"Your curiosity about what makes me believe things is becoming quite a trend, I'm almost getting used to it. I'll tell you on the way to your place; now be a good boy and take me home because I have a lot of things to do today." I say as I take the money corresponding to my share of the restaurant bill and place it on the table. Steve does the same, and soon we're leaving the restaurant. My plan is to go with him to his house and then make my way to the secret cabin my mother left me, to find my friends and my ex, planning our next steps even though I can't imagine what the future holds for us at the moment.

[trash-monkey]

Ran's Little Dragon

Chapter 4

With a yawn I open my eyes to find it's morning and that Ran is still surprisingly sleeping next to me with a arm thrown over his face, I stretch out my short limbs before carefully letting myself down from the bed without waking Ran up and got out clean clothes from my box that's been placed next to the bed. Being as quite as I can I take a bath after using the toilet and dry myself then put on the clothes, once everything is done I sneak out of the room and travel to the kitchen for food to find it surprisingly empty of anyone. Opening the fridge I take a slice of cheese when found along with ham and the bottle of ketchup with the help of a stool to make my breakfast sandwich while deciding to drink orange juice with it, after cleaning the mess up I wonder around only to get lost half way through since the Manor is large and maze like.

Peaking around a corner for a third time to see a familiar living and Hanma back on the couch like he was yesterday while Rindou is sitting across him with Wakasa beside him, with a smile I ran over causing them to be alarmed by my feet slapping on the floor.

"Mr Death, Rinrin." I giggled out while completely ignoring the other person before hold my arm up in a pick me up gestures when I'm standing next to Hanma bean stock legs which he did and set me onto his lap after moving his laptop to make room for me.

"Dragen, why do you call him Mr Death for?" Rindou questions my nickname.

"He mind me of grim reaper me watch on twv one time." I shrub my shoulder with the lie, not wanting them to know of my knowledge of their past before Hanma asked where Ran is.

"Sweepping" I press the arrow key to move my water boy character forward while Hanma is fire girl and we work together to solve the puzzle since he allowed me to play on his laptop, I wordlessly convinced him to play with me.

"Who got you washed and clothed then?" Wakasa asked me.

"Meself" I answered right as my character missed the jump causing him to fall into the green acid and they didn't like my answer one bite.

"Why! You could hurt yourself doing that!" I frowned at Rindou's angry voice.

"But...but I do it all time with Ma, she do not hwlp or get angwy when I find food to eat when I get hungwy." My eyes tears up at his anger making him sigh in regret at rising his voice at me.

"Dragen, your mommy was a bad one she was supposed to take care of you like every other good mommy and you're too small to be doing these things by yourself because you'll get very hurt. You understand?" I sadly nod knowing that it's true since I did struggle early.

"Okwy" my voice waivers in agreement while giving another nod which Hanma ruffle up my hair.

"You need a hair cut." He points out and I give a shake of my nod which he questioned why I don't want it cut.

"Me want it wong so me can put it in braids." I answered causing him to giggle.

"He's going to look like Ran when he was in his teens!" He laughed and Rindou agreed at the statement, a wide awake Ran still in his PJs runs into the room only to deflate when seeing me on Hanmas lap. Rindou tells him what I've done while he's asleep which he sigh at.

"This is for your own good and to teach you to never do anything by yourself again until your a very big boy, you get five minutes in timeout." He takes me from Hanma and into a corner of the living room causing disbelief to cover my face before displeasure and anger does as I cross my arms while mumbling to myself, knowing it's better this way doesn't mean I have to like it. Five minutes late of staring holes into the wall Ran finally walked over already dressed in his suit and his hair fixed.

"Daddy has work to do so I'm leaving you with Uncle Rinrin and you'll be getting your new stuff today, ok? Love you!" He hands me over to Rindou after leaving a kiss on top of my head and left the Manor.

"Have you eaten yet?" Rindou asked which I nod causing him to sigh.

"You did it yourself, right?" Once again I nod.

"Don't do that, if you're ever hungry just come to one of us and or the maids." With a pout I nod before seeing that everyone in the living room is gone when looking over Rindou's shoulder while he walks out, once we're at his car he puts me into the booster seat in the back seat that he had a maid immediately ordered and shipped yesterday. Luckily the drive to the mall is short and soon we find ourselves in a children's store, my eyes sparkle when they land on dragon onesies when we're going through the clothes section. I always wanted dragon onesies when I was a kid but since I'm one again I can have it.

"Rinrin, that!" I got his attention and points to what I want from where I'm sitting in the chart, dragons where always my favorite mythical creature and now I'm named after them.

"You like dragons?" I nod wildly causing him to smile and put three different colors into the chart before allowing me to stand on my feet.

"Stay where I can see you." He strictly ordered before I start taking a look through the clothes while he put simple stuff in for when I do dirty activities, with the help of Rindou I put in two different colored dragon hoodies, three cartoon dinosaur hooded pajamas dress, monster tee & overall shorts, a bat child leash since I'll needing it knowing Kanto Manji gang, a puzzle of people fighting a dragon, a stuffed skeleton snake that flows in the dark, a dragon plush backpack and more before we finally finished up in this store. Along the way we stop at a pastry shop where Rindou allowed me to get one and eat on the way back to the Manor.

"Everything in the car needs to be put up and assembled together." He orders some maids on the way in.

"It's awhile longer before your dad shows up, you want to watch a movie while we wait." I shouted yes and bounced in his arms which he drop me onto the couch with my snake, getting comfortable I lay down right as the movie starts to show it's Cars. Without my permission my eyes droop until sleep takes ahold of me which I'm gently forced awake sometime later to find myself in Ran's arms at the dinner table.

"Hello my little dragon, how was your nap?" He ruffle up my already messy hair before giving me bites of his dinner and I nod at his question before speaking.

"You back, Pap?" He nods.

"Yep, I finished everything I could so I can spend tomorrow with you." I rise my arms up while saying yeah but I quickly pout at the next information.

"While we're at it you need a check up at the doctors to make sure everything is fine with you."

"But me fine." He smiles with a chuckle.

"We don't really know that, little dragon."

'what's with the nickname?'

I push that though away since it might be Ran being Ran and continue to steal his dinner until I'm full.

"You want to watch the rest of the movie?" He asked which I said yes to before asking for milk, he stands up with me sitting in his arm while using the other to pour milk into the blue sippy cup and he hands it to me after putting me back on the couch.

"Rinrin?" I asked where unlce has gone to and he answered it with that he had work to do so I put my attention into the movie when he unpause it.

_______________________________________________

[slickfordain]

Hi hi! May I request a Linked Universe (Yandere) match-up, please?

Age/Orientation: I'm 22, a cis woman that goes by she/her, and i'm bisexual with a preference for men!

Appearance/Height: I'm pale, and I have a lot of freckles. I have dark green-dyed hair (naturally dark brown) and brown eyes. I have heterochromia, with my right eye being split down the middle between brown and hazel, and I also have glasses!

I have a lot of piercings, I'm 5'3, and about mid-size, but a bit on the skinnier side. Oh, and my hair is down to my hips!

Personality/Love Language: I'm kind of quiet and shy, and I tend to unintentionally come off as intimidating because of it (and my rbf), but when I'm comfortable with someone I'm very talkative and I like to joke around a lot. (I've been told I'm smart and funny)

I don't like touch really like at all, but in a relationship I'm super clingy and touchy. I'm really affectionate and I get jealous and insecure super easily, but I try not to overreact. My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation!

Hobbies/Interests: I really like reading and creative writing, making art, playing video games, and watching anime.

Thank you! <3

Cupid Fyu matches you up with……

Wild & Twilight!

༺♡༻

▬▬▬ Twilight

He would ADORE you !! As someone who works with sheep for his village friend in the Ordon village, he can come off quite intimidating as well. I feel like also because he’s partially a wolf (In Linked Universe logic), I can tell he can sense whenever you become insecure or upset about something. Therefor, he tries his best to make you happy and feel comfortable with him.

The first time Twilight had met you, he was so down bad already by how cute you were— and how quiet you seemed at first. He enjoyed your company, and it’s not even helping when the two of you love the color green. And that, because of that, you two became best friends immediately from it, and Twilight— was in absolute crisis asking himself why does he feel like this.

As you’re someone who dislikes touch, in the beginning, Twilight would respect it— but get a little too needy for some touch. That’s why when you’re both in a relationship, he slumps right into your arms and immediately stays there ! Oh, no, don’t think you’re able to escape his grasp. He really loves your soft touches, and the smell of your dyed hair is absolutely refreshing. It’s not something he often comes across to, because in his timeline they don’t function as much with coloring their hair… So I could definitely see Twilight addicted to that smell ~ Fufu~

In relationships, Twilight would encourage you to draw and improve— as he is someone who finds artworks really fun to look at and ethereal. He also loves the way the brushes and paint smells like, or even simple pencils for sketch work. He would braid your hair, even, if you allowed him because of how long your hair is— he’s experienced because I headcanon that Twilight is experienced with children’s hair!~ He would even so far compliment you, and even ask if he could be in any help for coloring your hair… Err… Probably don’t allow him to, please. If it’s anyone, trust Time instead of Twilight. (He’s a bit rough with his hands)

Your eyes are mesmerizing. He could stare at it all day, and still think that it was only just a few seconds he got to see you. You’re everything he absolutely wants and needs.

However, it’s not only you who’s just jealous easily. Twilight despises it whenever you read to someone else, particularly the children. He can’t help himself, it’s an instinct that’s inside of him that just…. Yearns for you, you know? And if you were to be someone in Twilight’s past where Zant was still alive and probably made you get into the same spot with Ilia, in another village, you better bet that Twilight will absolutely go berserk and obliterate everything that comes in his way.

You think Ganon can stop him? He became a wolf to save you, he fought monsters and helped Zelda to save you, what makes you think he wouldn’t ever come across different Ganons to defeat, if it meant to have you safe and happy?

No. Twilight refuses to even let Midna acknowledge you, always brushing the topic about you aside whenever she intervenes, because he’s so jealous and petty like that. He doesn’t even acknowledge Midna as a companion or a simple partner anymore either, but more like a tool he could use and manipulate to get to you. He just misses you so much… Please come back to your homeboy.

And, speaking of jealousy, again with your jealousy if he gets too close with Ilia— oh sweetie, don’t worry! He’ll just kill off Ilia if that makes you happy! Right? That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? Don’t worry… By the time he comes to that village you’re hidden in, he will scoop you in his arms— and ditch his whole entire mission to go back home. Someone else can do his dirty work, he has you now.

▬▬▬ Wild

When I say he’s wild, I absolutely fucking mean he’s wild about your hair and how it works with coloring it, and your eyes— Your— Gods. Just, YOUR EYESSSS. He would immediately brag about you to the great fairies in his world, who would often giggle and tease him for ever loving you so much. Though, he’s in a bit of denial!

He would say “Oh no it’s nothing like that, I just really adore her and how she often draws me and-” and he won’t just shut up, at all. Like girl? What have you done to him?? YOU COMPLETELY BROKE HIM- Or well, rather bewitched him. There’s just something about you that has him going… Wild. (I’M SORRY PLEASE DON’T SUE ME)

But then fails.

Yes he just fails. There’s no denying by how your eyes just, makes his heart pound wildly, and how your dedication for reading makes him feel like he’s lacking some IQ… Because of you, he even knows many parts about the timeline he’s in— which is heavily impressive! You knew when the attacks would happen, you knew when Ganon would strike! You even described his personal attack plans!

How can he not love you? At least you didn’t tell him it’s because you’re a gamer… You just simply told him it’s because you love reading, and love trying to guess what happens next— a simple white lie.

I would have a feeling that Wild wouldn’t even try making you jealous, because poor boy is just heavily obsessed with you. He would be too occupied to even think about helping the people, or as a matter of fact defeating Ganondorf. The only girl that would be in your way, is either Mipha or Zelda, but I don’t think you should overthink too much about it…

Zelda isn’t easily jealous, in fact, she’ll accept it happily; while Mipha drowns in jealousy and absolute envy towards you. There will be times that Mipha even tries sabotaging the relationship between you and Wild, but in the end, Mipha would lose, before Wild can take care of her. Oh don’t worry, it’s just a friendly talk he wants to give to Mipha… Sidon won’t notice it, neither would the other champions that are too busy chattering with one another. Right?

Wild refuses as well to even let you come with him in some sort of battles he encounters every now and then, because I think you already know that this man has a lot of tasks to complete— and if you ever were to encounter one of his fights, this man would legit fucking cry his heart out. Because in reality, us humans aren’t tolerant towards fighting like these— but you best as well feel lucky you can’t die because of the fact you’re a real person, immune to fictional weapons and hits.

Sidon would think this is some sort of an obsession and not really true love that Wild feels for you, he even tells you this— but you seem to be fully distracted and you didn’t really care as much. Plus, you said to Sidon— much to his horror; that you enjoy and love Wild’s company. Even so far worse is that Zelda doesn’t even seem to think of Wild’s personality as weird and possessive.

But don’t worry, the great big fairies will have fish for today.

RAAAAH THIS IS MY FIRST TIME DOING THIS ;u ; Super sorry if it’s not to your liking! I tried my best finding out which Link would love your style! 😭

[oxy-daisy]

Coffee at 7th and Main:

The golden sunlight illuminates the stone steps of the Art Museum, and on my way into the building I pass people taking pictures of the sunset. As I walk through the doors I had walked through as a child, I find the reception desk, and get a ticket.

"Hi Olivia, nice to see you back,” the receptionist says to me with a smile.

“Nice to see you too,” I headed to the coat room. There I drop off my leather bomber jacket and take a look in the mirror to make sure my light brown hair isn't a mess. My pale face has a rosy blush from the cool air outside.

I've done this before. Museum for an afternoon, get dinner in the cafe, leave before closing, and walk back to my family's townhome near the museum. Until now I had only really been in the summer, not autumn. I check my coat in and find my way to the first gallery.

The whole building is made of marble and stone, and is built to emulate Ancient Greek architecture. I find the history of furniture interesting, so that exhibit has become a staple of my evening visits. I breeze through the furniture and move across the main hall to the sculpture garden. Quite possibly my favorite part of the visit, I get to see sculptures of all different kinds of people. I like looking at different sculptures of women, ones that look like me, and ones that don't. I spend as much time as I'd like here. My stomach rumbles as I look at Degas’ ballerina which signals my turn to the cafe.

During the week there are not many people in the art museum cafe. A grab and go sandwich stifles my hunger. Fizzy lemonade washes it down. My favorite part of the meal is the chocolate chip cookie at the end. I flip through art pamphlets as I eat, but really enjoy watching other people in the cafe. I find myself daydreaming of who they are and what they could be doing on a Thursday night at an art museum. Truth being they are likely wondering the same thing about me.

Once I finish my dinner I walk through the corridor, past the medieval armor, to the paintings. The museum I go to has a section of prints, so they can capture famous paintings through history. I stop first at the ever popular Mona Lisa. I look into her eyes and she gazes back at me. I can't tell if she is smiling or frowning, happy or upset. The colors seem sad but her face seems almost content. Her eyes follow me as I cross the room, almost as if she is a real person who is watching me, analyzing my every move, and trying to get a read on me. A few paintings down is A Sunday on La Grande Jatte, or more famously known as the Ferris Buller painting. Of course I recreate the scene, standing far away from the painting then really close to see all the little dots. I stood so close the tip of my rosy nose was just barely off the glass frame.

Abruptly, my vision swirls, like the movement of a hypnosis swirl, and the air changes from the cool air conditioned museum to that of a warm spring day. Birds' song touches my ears as if I were out by a river, and the sound of people conversing meets me as I come back to a state of consciousness. At first the light is intense, but it settles in the shade of a tree. I am sitting next to a woman wearing a red blouse and a pink skirt. She is holding a parasol to shade her pale skin and dark hair from the sun nearby. I find myself wearing different clothes than before, I used to be in a long sleeved t-shirt, black pants, and doc martin boots. Now I am in a dark top with a yellow skirt, I have my hair braided and draped over my shoulder. I am holding a small bouquet of flowers. The woman next to me is gazing off towards a river where the sunlight glistens. I turn to my left and there is a woman dressed just like the lady next to me, but she is wearing black and is holding a black parasol.

“Is that lady taking a monkey for a walk?” I ask before I realize what I've just said.

The woman next to me turns, and examines the lady in black, then says “Yes, but stop staring.” She immediately turns to face me, “It is extremely rude, Eliza,” my name is Olivia, not Eliza.

“I must be dreaming,” I simply cannot believe what is going on, “No way."

“What's wrong Eliza? You know that Mrs. and Mr. Thomas love that monkey. They walk it here every Sunday afternoon.”

“She's from the painting,” I look around, and sure enough there is the man laying down propped on his arms, dogs running around, a lady in red with her child, and boats on the river. This is the scene from the painting I was just looking at.

“What painting? You sound crazy,” she looks as confused as I feel.

“This… this isn't right. I shouldn't be here.” I find my footing and get up. “I am so sorry, but I have to go. I have to get back home to my family.” I start to run. I run so far. I run to the point where all the little dots would disappear into a fuzzy mist. I run where there is nowhere to run anymore.

Then I stop, out of breath, exhausted. I lay down under the tree in the soft green grass. Nobody is here. It is just me, the hills in the distance, the river, and the trees. I lay there for some time before deciding to get up.

Slowly and carefully, I make my way to the water. I look at the small bouquet of flowers in my hands and sigh. “What am I going to do?” I say to myself aloud. “My parents, my brother and sister, they're going to miss me. I'm going to miss them too.”

I toss the bouquet into the water and shout “God! Why would you do this to me?” I take a deep breath, holding back tears, “Why… I was just… just doing what I'd always done. Now, look what that got me.” If there was anyone else around I would look crazy, mad, insane, and all other terms to think of for someone who has lost their mind. The bouquet floats slowly down the river, getting further and further from me.

Keeping some sense of determination, I keep walking away from the front of the painting. I just keep going, along the river, into the mist. Surely there is an end to the painting, a wall, or something. It felt like ages, like the walking would never end, never ever. The landscape slowly transformed from a forest to an open grassland meeting the river, the width of the river kept getting smaller and smaller, to the point where it was like the trenches of water I dug as a child from the ocean up to the spot where we sat on the beach, to the point where it was no longer there. It was just sky and ground, going on indefinitely. I didn't trust it. Going that way wouldn't solve my problem. So I turned, and made my way back to the front of the painting.

Paintings never really end, do they? I realize. I walk slowly to conserve my energy. The river reappears, so do the trees, hills, boats, people, animals, the lady in red with her child, the lady in black with the monkey, the woman who called me Eliza, and the painting became again what it was before. So if I came in through the front, I'll go out that way.

Much the same to what I experienced coming in, I experienced going out. Swirling unconsciousness, a slight ringing in my ears, and coming back to the cool museum air. Relief washes over my body, from my head to my toes. That was crazy, I was trapped in a painting, an oil painting, an oil painting with real people. That was crazy.

Wondering if I could do the same thing in another painting, I walked over to Frida Kahlo's Wounded Deer painting. Looking at it makes me feel deep sorrow. I do the same thing as before. The same sensation as before consumes me in transition. I find myself instantly face to face with Frida Kahlo's head, adorned with antlers, on the deer's body. Arrows impaling her body. Blood trickling from the puncture wounds. She sees me and tries to run but can't. She is stuck. Stuck like I just was, like I am again.

It hurts to watch her suffer. Why would I choose to go into such a depressing and sorrowful painting? Maybe something about it resonates with me. I'm honestly not sure. I walk backwards into the front of the painting, leaving the wounded deer there, suffering, bleeding, dying. Warm, the tear rolls down my cheek, hits my chin, then falls to the floor. I wipe the tear from my face with the back of my hand.

I move on, and visit other artists I like, Van Gough's Starry Night, Monet's Bridge, Mary Cassat's Little Girl in a Blue Armchair. After my last visit with Johannes Venneir's girl with the pearl earrings I decided to go back to the museum. Distraught, I notice the lights are turned off. I check my watch, it's 10:36. Too long, way too long.

Oh no, I'm stuck again. First the painting, now the whole museum. Trying to think logically I make my way to the front of the museum, but nobody is there. Not a soul, not a mouse, not an insect, not even the comfort of people from paintings around.

I walk to the coatroom and grab my jacket and put it on, then go to a window facing the outside of the building. It is not much higher off the ground than the window on the first floor of the townhome. I look out at the street where there is just one person coming my way. She has long curly blonde hair, and clear glasses. She has a brown backpack that looks like she was coming back late from studying. Hoping that she didn't see me. I sit down, my back against the wall, willfully out of her view. I pull out my phone, to check my messages, or call someone. It doesn't turn on. “Great,” I mutter softly to myself.

Clang, clang, clang. The familiar and almost comic sound of spray paint being shaken. As I peak out the window I can see the same girl spray painting the side of the building. Her backpack is sat down next to her, wide open, revealing cans of spray paint. I turn back around.

Maybe… if I can go into regular paintings, I can go into street paintings too.

I wait for her to finish, which ends up taking longer than I anticipated, and then lean back against the wall. I will myself through the wall, anxious for the sensation I had become familiar with, and when it washes over me again, I am filled with joy. I am now in the back of the painting, I walk to the front around lines that make up a form I am unaware of. Then I find the front of the painting. I will myself through again, and stumble onto the pavement in front of me.

I find myself face to face with the girl from earlier.

“How… what the…” She is shocked, her mouth is gaping open, her eyebrows knotted, searching for an explanation.

“Honestly I don't know either,” I say, and I turn around to see what she painted on the museum wall. It's a child running away from the window with a trail of butterflies following him. “That's beautiful,” I say to her.

“Thank you,” My eyes meet her beautiful dark green eyes, we are both equally confused and in awe of each other. I don't know if I should explain to her what happened, how I got trapped in the museum, why I was there, how fortunate I am that she was painting in this particular spot.

“Do you want to hear how I did that?” I ask, still unsure of what to do.

“Obviously,” she says, somewhat excited.

“Ok well, how about I meet you for coffee tomorrow morning? Corner of 7th and main at 6:30?”

“Sure, I'll see you then.” With one last nod, I turn away from her, and start back to my home.

[hinakazino]

Uchiha!Child Reader meeting the senju's and getting fascinated with their hair.

Summary: This is apart of the uchiha princess series. Madara takes you on a trip with him to meet one of his long time friends, Hashirama and things take an unexpected turn.

Warnings: None, Just fluff!

As usual you were at the Uchiha residence, today just wandering around your house. Outside you stared at all the small wildlife, poking at the flowers and plants, clearly bored. Whilst getting lost in your thoughts you jump when you're suddenly covered by a shadow.

"Oh, grandpa!" you shout running up to him and hugging his legs. Madara smiled and picked you up in his arms, he was still strong as ever. "Whats got our little princess down?" he asks, you were never good at hiding your emotions.

Even now he can see the small frown of your face from boredom, ah, there were always those days. You weren't of age to go to school yet and often spent your time at home so it wouldn't be strange to see you get tired of it on occasions.

"mMm..it's just nothings been happening grandpa," you say with a pout. Madara chuckles, you had such an adorable voice. He softly tugged at your cheek with his fingers, "don't feel so down, I've got a surprise trip for you."

You whined at his teasing but quickly brightened at the mention of going out. "At trip? Really!?! Where!?!" you asked, practically bouncing from excitement, you and madara hadn't really gone anywhere together yet.

Madara felt himself smile more at your happiness, "we're going to meet one of my long time friends, I've told you about him before, Hashirama," he tells you as he sets you down. Ushering you towards your house to tell your mother.

Your eyes sparkle in admiration, "ohhh, you mean the man who you fought with! your equal grandpa??" you asked as you playfully skipped along back to your residence.

"Well, yes, but I'll admit he did defeat me," he responded watching you carefully as you mounted up the stairs. "No way, grandpa's the strongest!" you say gigging, running to Mikoto as she embraces you in her arms.

"Mommy Mommy!" you say as she plants kisses all over your face. "Yes?" she asks, "Grandpa is gonna take me to meet his friend!" you state to your mom. Quickly adding, "I'm big now, I can go!"

Mikoto smiles at your enthusiasm, you were quite the energetic child. "Yes yes that's fine," she affirmed, nodding towards Madara as a sign to keep you safe. Madara understood, he wasn't known as one of the strongest Uchiha for nothing.

Arriving at the Senju residence you were in awe, it was massive! You'd heard about Madara's friend before, mainly in his story. It was a long time ago when many nations were at war, that Madara and Hashirama became friends.

They managed to strike a treaty after awhile (Madara left out the sad details because he knew you'd cry) and the rest was history. Of course, you were also excited for other reasons, Hashirama was the first hokage!!

You and Madara were instantly led inside and sat in the living room waiting. No more than a few moments later Hashirama had burst it, "madaraaaaa!!! long time no see!!" he shouted happily. Before noticing your presence.

"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!" you shouted, matching his energy instantly. Hashirama walk over and sat down near you, "aha! you must be the Uchiha princess!" he said. "Mhm!" you nodded giggling, and that's when you'd noticed his hair.

Your eyes instantly lit up in excitement, but you remembered that it was important to ask first. "Ummm, can I play with your hair?" you asked, fingers softly knotting themselves together in anticipation of an answer.

Hashirama laughed, "of course, you can braid it all you want, I had a grand daughter just like you ya know?" You squealed in delight and got up to start playing with his hair. It was like Madara's hair, quite long. However, it wasn't fluffy and thus, easier to put into braids.

You developed a love for hair at a young age. Probably due to when you'd used to play hide and seek all the time with your brothers. Your grandpa's hair was big enough to hide you then, and whenever you saw it you knew it was Madara, it made you feel safe.

Madara smiled, this was quite a pleasant sight to see though he wouldn't admit it warmed his heart though. It was too bad Hashirama could see through him just fine though, "thought you wouldn't ever get a grandkid staying single for that long!" Hashirama joked.

Madara scowled at him, "that grand daughter of yours is already 50 something!! look at how cute precious y/n is!" he argued. Hashirama had to admit you were very adorable, he could feel your small hands tying his hair together.

You were definitely very proud of your braids, you'd only ever done this with Itachi before and that was only in private. But looking at your grandpa now, something might be wrong. Madara was trying hard not to laugh, your braid was indeed very messy.

Hashiramas hair stuck out in different angles and you seem to have forgotten the part of his hair that'd fallen over the front of his shoulder. Leading to a very odd look, but the mood quickly shifted when a new person entered the room.

"Brother! I know you really want to spend time with Madara but nows not the time to- .." Tobirama was at a lost of words. It was truly a sight he'd never seen before, a small Uchiha looking girl that had messed up his brothers hair so much it was actually entertaining.

"Who is the kid? Another Uchiha?" Tobirama wouldn't let his amusement show though, he'd dealt with the Uchiha clan long enough and still couldn't stand them. "Be nice Tobirama, this is y/n, isn't her braiding so cute??" Hashirama asked happily.

Clearly you don't realize what you look like, Tobirama thought. "Yes yes it is great," he responds nonchalantly only to be confused by your stare of awe. You were currently admiring Tobirama's hair, it wasn't long like your grandpas or Hashiramas.

It was white! You'd never seen that before, well, besides some old people but Tobirama's was clearly different. It was a pretty and natural color like snow. Also, you may have taken a liking to that fluffy neck collar he has.

"Um..hello!" you say looking up at him. Tobirama doesn't want to waste time but glances down at you in return, "hello, what is it that you want?" Tobirama can feel both madara and hashirama glaring at him. He doesn't really know how to deal with kids though.

"Can I ask you a question?" you ask, you remembered questions of age could be considered rude awhile ago. "You just did, but go ahead," Tobirama said with a hint of annoyance. You noticed this and got sad for a moment but quickly asked away.

"Your hair is so pretty and white! It looks so fluffy! How old are you? Not that it's bad to be old! Uh wait can I touch it???" you asked, eyes pleading. Tobirama honestly felt bad for a moment seeing your expression but sighed, you were just a baby, really.

"Yes you can touch, and this is my natural hair I'm not old," he said, sitting down across Madara with Hasirama as he let you pet his hair. Truthfully he hated himself from doing this but your soft wow's, ooo's, and fascination really got to him.

"Grandpa! I like his hair the best!" you declared happily, this made Tobirama feel good. Especially when he saw Madara's expression, he didn't approve of this. However, before he could say anything you had spoken again, "wait, oops-- whats your name??"

"My names Tobirama, I'm Hashirama's brother," Tobirama added for context. Tobirama was starting to get fond of you, just a little, he won't admit it. Eventually you had to just went back to Hashirama's hair and leaving the Senju compound you were met with a sad faced Madara.

"Is my hair not your favorite..?" he asked. You had replied, "No no you're definitely in the top 3 grandpa!" You hadn't denied or confirmed, but just giggled as you ran quickly upon seeing Itachi arrive home too. What an energetic child, Madara thought.

© 2023 by Hinakazino, do not translate/edit/claim or use my work in any form.

[fakeloveaskblog]

(Hi, me again. Awwwwwwwwww! I’m so happy for Remy. I’m glad their happy. Anyway here’s an ask for Virgil because it’s been a while since I’ve spoke to him.)

Hello Virgil, how are you? Did you miss me? How’s your cat?

Glow Eyes

"And what's this little beauties name?"

"Uh it's just Bela. Nothing cool"

"I think Bela sounds marvelous"

You floated into Virgil's apartment and was immediately hit by the smell. There wasn't any stench of rotten food left. It almost looked clean for the first time in months. Except for cat toys being scattered here and there.

A man you didn't know was hunching down in front of the tiny cat. His hair was long and parted into braids, same as his beard. He leant forward and dangled one of his braids so Bela could jump up on her back paws and play with his hair. His smile shone like the sun illuminating laugh lines next to his eyes.

Virgil sat beside the man with his eyes staring wide and with a nervous smile. His hair had started to grow a bit making bits of purple dyed hair fall down in front of his eyes.

Even so he turned to look at you almost as soon as you got into the room. He didn't say anything. He just got up and grabbed you by the back of your ghost neck and carried you out into the kitchen as if you were a misbehaving cat.

You only got a word out before he whispered "Hi to you too! Not right now though! B! U! S! Y! Bye Ghost!!"

He put you in the microwave and put it on half temperature before leaving the kitchen. You spun around in the microwave for a while before realizing he wouldn't be letting you out any time soon and even though you could easily phase through solid matter you, as the well mannered ghost you are, decided to leave and come back tomorrow instead.

--

When you returned the next morning Virgil was watching a ghost hunting show while eating cereal. He'd filled up Bela's bowl right before so they could breakfast together.

Finally you got to say your message. He rolled his eyes when you asked if he'd missed you before chuckling a little.

"Guess I'm doing fine....Some of the regulars at the park I go to with Bela have started trying to talk to me which is really nerve wrecking and annoying....but also nice I guess....Uhm he- The guy you saw yesterday wasn't from the park. He was just like he was- Why Am I even explaining this to you!? I'm a grown man. I can do whatever the hell I want"

He grabbed a pillow and was about to throw it at you, even though he knew it would just go through you. Before lowering his arm again because he remembered that Bela would probably get startled if he threw anything and he didn't want to see her scared.

"Don't worry I'm not planning on dating like annnyyyy time soon. We both agreed it was just a one night thing. I've already deleted his number and all that. And honestly" He was fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie "I was really fucking anxious about just this. I really don't wanna hurt anyone again. I have never even considered dating again. Like...if it's not Remy I don't...I can't picture it in my mind. It just feels so wrong"

A loud gawking meow came from Bela as she climbed up on the sofa and started to jump to bite Virgil's finger. He patted her behind one of her big floofy ears before wagging his hand around to let her play.

She had gotten quite good at telling when her papa was feeling bad by now. She'd also gotten quite good at knowing that her papa would feel better again if she got his attention.

"Obviously I'm missing Remy like 24/7. Like so fucking much. But...I dunno how to explain...It's like...I'm not surprised that I'm still alive without them anymore y'know? It felt like if they were gone the sun would just stop rising and I would turn into fucking dust but it hasn't happened y'know?"

Bela started to gnaw at the sleeve of his hoodie. It already had a few holes because of her but Virgil didn't mind.

"I still can't imagine Not missing them but I could never imagine being with anyone but them either so" He pouted a little before sighing "Guess I have to hope for the future or whatever fucking shit balls fuck shit happens"

You felt a slight tug at your ghostly form as if someone was trying to summon you. It didn't feel like an emergency but you could smell the faint signs of something ratlike. It probably wouldn't be too bad if you wanted to stay with Virgil for a while but you could also go check it out.

[frankcastleonlyfans]

hello again!! omg I'm so glad you liked the idea thank you for answering! it's really sweet of you and you seem so comforting for me! actually, i'm in my angst era too, so... you know... i've got too many angsty fics thoughts.

if you don't mind, i want to talk more about dad!daemon x mom!reader or just husband and wife. maybe it's an unpopular opinion, but i love reading about their interactions. ('5 moment between us' got the best of me) i like reading or just witnessing relationship's crisis, as you said. and marrying (esp if being forced to do it and trying to live in this reality) is quite a change while having children!! is a huge crisis. it's just so interesting to see how these things affect a couple. like that postpartum depression and how they try to handle it together. just imagine daemon saying 'i love you' to his wife for the first time after her first childbirth and peppering her face (or even the whole body) with kisses thanking her for giving him an heir and just worshipping her. how they comfort each other after a fight with the children ('family feud'.. i felt SO sorry). missing and finally having each other (not in a sexual way but like... as a person. just pure adoration and being madly in love). BEING ABLE TO TAME THE ROUGE PRINCE! omg every time you use this line my heart ACHES! it's just another level of wife x husband relationship, so married(ly) domestic, so spiritual for me! i've just realized i need some hcs on this line. like daemon being absolutely whipped not by his children (it's sweet but) but his wife! totally can imagine him being able to sleep after a nightmare only in her arms ('mommy is dead' is a '!!!' i cried so much). liking her braiding his hair and kissing his hairline. being furious and ready to literally kill and turning into a putty when she touches his shoulder. loving waking up beside her and staring lovingly bc omg she's so perfect and she's mine??? hugging her protectively while she's crying. suggesting to buy her just anything and everything while she just asks for a day off with their family. omg i'm gonna cry again... sorry, it's a little too much.

if you ever feel like it, it'd be great but i just wanted to share my thoughts. i guess i've just got too whipped by this image... so yeah. if you don't mind, i'd really like to talk to you more! but you can always tell me to fuck off if ever feel uncomfortable!

oh no, please feel free to share your thoughts with me anytime you want to! 🫶🏽

this love scenarios between y/n and daemon are keeping my heart warm 😩💖 i like to think daemon helps her to deal with the weight of being a mother of four, even thought he couldn't handle it himself. he looks at her with admiration like with this constant look in his face

he worships her body like a temple, the temple that brought children, his blood, into the world. he goes into battle with confident feeling that the only thing that could kill him is his love for her. he loves her, no other woman could have his beating heart in the palm of her hand like y/n does. he would kill for her, and he would die for her

i need to write this comfort scenarios sooooo bad, i live for them and their children 🥺

[bontens-new-executive]

Reasons why I'm down bad for Haitani Ran and Sanzu Haruchiyo

"Currently very upset that I cannot date ran nor sanzu :/"

- me

No bc sanzu and ran can respectfully step on me. Therefore, I will now share my reasoning on why im down bad for Haitani Ran and Sanzu Haruchiyo.

Warning: hot men, a bit of cursing, simp behavior

Requests Masterlist

_______________________

Ran

Before timeskip:

Can we collectively agree that ran looks so fucking hot with his sleek braided hair style???

Like it has that little something that makes me go brrrrr, yk

Then his lazy, droopy eyes??

Why exactly is that hot, sir? Bc it most definitely fucking is <3

He looks like he has the power and status to just sit there and feel untouchable. And yk why? Bc he can. He has the power, he has the status, he has the popularity

Nobody can touch him so why would he be bothered to care,,

he's just swag like that :/

His grin. His fucking grin.

Just that face, bored eyes and that cocky, teasing grin

And honestly, I'm 10/10 here for it

He gives me vibes that he'd be the type to tease you endlessly, flirt with you (nobody knows if it's for fun or if he actually has a thing for u), being playful and cocky, and just be joking around a lot

He probably has a soft side for people he cares about and I can physically not cope with that bc that's so cute :/

After the timeskip, bonten:

Tbh I'm a bigger fan of his long braided hair but I can't even be mad abt his short hair,,

Why? Bc he's just mad fine either way.

The more I look at his short hair, the more attractive it looks :/

He looks so classy and fancy??? I support.

Why is it so hot/cool/attractive that he's high ranked in bonten?? Like he's no underling nor some dumb-wannabe-yakuza, he is an executive??

He has the power to order others around and tell them what to do?? He's a boss??

Tbh i get the vibe that even after the timeskip he'd probably be the same as before, personality wise

He'll forever be cocky

Lazy eyes, wide teasing grin with a soft side that only few people get to see

It's debatable if he'd get a lover anyway bc of his job but if he does get one he'd be so sweet abt it omfg-

Also, why tf are there like only 10 pics of timeskip ran??? I NEED MORE CONTENT

Sanzu Haruchiyo

Before timeskip:

I didn't notice him much during bloodly Halloween but once he appeared as a official side character(?),,

Man he looked so cUte

Whipped instantly

His mask is so mysterious and fancy and his his hair is so pretty

👉Soft vibes👈 and that he's so loyal to mikey is even cuter i-

The fact that other division captains couldn't handle him bc "they couldn't handle this wild horse" is so cute-

SOMEONE SEND HELP

YO the moment he killed mucho I was like, 👀👀👀 Im looking, I'm looking 👀👀

That move with his k a t a n a, no hesitation and that speed

"I've been waiting for this" yUH-

And then he toOK HIS MASK OFF

That shit sent me

After timeskip, bonten:

OKAY LISTEN I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE PLS HES SO COOL,, FOR WHAT

Y'all he looks so fine. He looks so fucking fine.

Simping stage: unlocked

No bc I will never get over this :/

His scars? Yes, just yes.

It's so unique and just so special and highkey hot- i-

His earrings are also so nice and fancy mAn. They're just so pretty and fit his style so well

AND his hairstyle is so cool omfg, I mean I generally love this kind of hairstyle but it looks so so good on sanzu I can't-

Sign me up for this shit man :/

And then, the thing I'm most down bad for: his psycho persona.

Hes insane and I love it

Y'all can't tell me that aint sexy as fuck.

Man the way his look is so crazy and insane- and that maniac grin on top of that is just- <3

Just that stare-

Nah I'm quitting- I can't with this-

u G H

In conclusion: this man FINE AS FUCK

For legal reasons the psycho stuff is only acceptable in fiction so pls don't come for me <3

_____________________________

[a-world-in-grey]

Sola/Blood of My Blood - Coming of Age III

@secret-engima and here’s part three as a belated christmas/new year’s present!

.

They arrive at the banquet hall shortly after Noctis and his Retinue. They’ve got their own glaive tailing them - Pelna, if Sola remembers the short list of glaives her brother won’t accidentally toss out a window for getting too close.

A list Luche, Axis, and Tredd are not on. Noctis is trying, they’re her Retinue, her chosen brothers, but he doesn’t trust easily anymore and if anyone understands the irrational effects of trauma, it’s the Galahdians. So they keep a polite distance, Nyx dropping back to take Tredd’s vacant spot at her left as they come to a stop between Prompto and Ignis.

The suits are Ignis’ influence. All black - suit, shirt, vest, tie, and pocket square - with silver detailing on the cuff links, tie, and pocket square. The vest has more silver in an absolutely stunning embroidery, but it’s not visible and Sola only knows about it because she took Noctis’ initial measurements and did the final fitting because letting a stranger get close to Noctis with anything remotely sharp is just asking for a catastrophe.

Sola wishes Ignis was able to do the same for Papa. Luche might complain about her fashion choices but at least she’s never worn pinstripes!

The colorful Galahdian outfits hardly merit more than a glance from Noctis and his Retinue. Sola warned Noctis how they’d be dressed weeks ago, and this isn’t the first time Ignis and Gladio have seen Galahdian formal wear, since Sola’s always made a point to wear such ever since her adoption into the Clans even when attending formal functions as Sword to her missing King. Prompto doesn’t have the experience with Lucian formal events to know what is and isn’t unusual.

One look at her little brother’s expression tells her all she needs to know how much Noctis is not looking forward to this. And already hyper-aware, he's going to give himself a stress migraine before dinner is done at this rate- "Can I do your hair?" Sola blurts.

Noctis blinks, brow furrowing in confusion, but his focus is on Sola and not the banquet hall beyond the double doors. He raises a hand to the feather-fine strands, but doesn't quite touch the low ponytail. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"If I don't get to wear a ponytail," Sola says, sticking her nose in the air with an exaggerated huff, "neither do you."

Libertus grins wryly when Noctis' Retinue glance at him. "She already got ta me."

Noctis' lips twitch in a brief smile. "I can see that." He turns, conjuring a makeshift seat out a horizontal Shield, and sits to make Sola's work easier. Her little brother has gotten very good at using Shields in unconventional and more utilitarian ways like Sola does. Sola forces herself not to think about the reason for the drastic improvement in what was Noctis' least favorite spell.

"Do you want any pins?" Sola asks, taking the comb Ignis produces for her. She's not surprised when Noctis hums a negative. Sola works quickly, braiding his hair into a simple plait and ties it off with a black hair tie. While her hands work, her brain tries to come with something for Noctis to distract himself with throughout the night. "Done."

Noctis' hand brushes her work, and he blinks in surprise at how close the braid lies to his scalp. Even his fine hair will be hard pressed to escape, and anyone trying to grab hold will find their efforts stymied.

Utilitarian, rather than ornamental.

"Thanks."

"Anytime." Sola smirks. “I've got a game for you."

Ignis eyes her. “I feel we should be concerned.”

“Nah,” Prompto disagrees. “She’s not showing teeth yet.”

There’s a moment of silence, before Gladio turns to Prompto. “Meaning?”

Prompto blinks large blue eyes up at the Shield. “She doesn’t bare her teeth unless she’s threatening someone.” Under the weight of everyone’s stares, while Gladio and Ignis look like they’re reevaluating every time they’ve seen Sola smile, Prompto fidgets. “Am I the only one who noticed?”

Nyx snickers, grinning fondly at the kid. “You’ve known Pipsqueak-” Nyx casually leans out of range of the hand aimed at his gut, “-for what, a couple months and already figured that out? I’m impressed. His Highness sure knows how to choose them.”

“You say that ‘cause you needed six months and a broken nose.” Libertus deadpans.

"How was I supposed to know those were threats?"

A trio of snorts sound from behind them. Nyx shoots Luche, Tredd, and Axis a look of outrage.

"What's the game?" Noctis asks.

"Finding the most hideous outfit by the end of the night." Sola says brightly. With the recent trends in Lucian high fashion, they won't be short on options. As though both of them can hear her thoughts, Ignis and Luche twitch.

Noctis smirks. "I'm game."

"Ooh! Can we play too?" Prompto asks.

"Only if you want Ignis or Luche to win."

Prompto studies the two Hands with a thoughtful look, then grins. "I'll take that challenge!”

Perfect. “We’ll compare in the morning.” Sola says. She waves a hand towards the double doors. “After you, Little Brother.”

“See you at the bottom.” Noctis takes a fortifying breath and straightens, then nods for the servants to open the doors and sweeps into the banquet hall, pausing to allow the usher to announce him and his Retinue. At Prompto’s introduction the slight lull in ambient chatter vanishes, but Prompto's chin is high and his shoulders straight as he follows Noctis down the stairs and out of Sola's line of sight.

Axis, Tredd, and Luche retake their positions in the formation. Nyx brushes his magic against her in a silent query. "No yet." Sola murmurs, barely loud enough to reach her Sword's hearing. "Wait for Noctis to reach Papa." They're putting on a show - it would be rude to start before Noctis and Papa finish their formalities and can fully appreciate it.

Now, if only Sola could still stretch her own senses that far, that would be fantastic.

The usher glances over to them, wondering over their delay, and Sola can see the exact moment the man registers their clothes and quietly despairs. Sola's lips twitch up into a smile. The poor man knows Sola well.

"Now." Axis says, and the formation around Sola and Libertus changes.

Luche and Tredd fall back to flank Axis. Nyx also falls back, sliding to Libertus' right and allowing him to pass before taking position behind as Axis drifts left to take up position behind Sola. The entire maneuver finishes before Sola and Libertus cross the threshold of the banquet hall, as smooth and disciplined as only the Kingsglaive at their best can be.

After Noctis and his Retinue, they're a riot of color. Blue, green, purple, yellow, grey, and orange, stark against the black and gold.

"Presenting Her Royal Highness Sola Ostium of House Caelum, Princess of Lucis, Chief of Clan Ostium, Sword of Crown Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, His Royal Majesty's Kingsglaive."

The crowd, still murmuring excitedly from Noctis' introduction, quiets when the usher announces her surname. In the lull, the man's next announcement is perfectly clear- "Escorted by her husband, His Highness Libertus Ostium of Clan Ostium, Prince-Consort of Lucis, His Royal Majesty's Kingsglaive."

And there goes the chatter. And the cameras, ow the flash.

Sola keeps her spine straight and her head high with every bit of royal arrogance she can muster. Libertus is a solid presence at her side as they descend the stairs slowly enough for her Retinue to keep pace as they are announced to the court.

Lord Axis Arra of Clan Arra, son of House Amicitia, Shield of Princess Sola Ostium, His Royal Majesty's Kingsglaive.

Nyx Ulric, Chief of Clan Ulric, Sword of Princess Sola Ostium, His Majesty's Kingsglaive.

Tredd Furia of Clan Furia, Heart of Princess Sola Ostium, His Majesty's Kingsglaive.

Luche Lazarus of Clan Lazarus, Hand of Princess Sola Ostium, His Majesty's Kingsglaive.

At the bottom of the stairs, Papa gives her a smile and a brush of fond-exasperation-grudging amusement in his magic. Sola smiles back, more than pleased with the whispers racing across the room and utterly shameless about it. "Your Majesty." She greets formally. "Crown Prince Noctis."

"Your Majesty. Your Highness." Libertus echoes genially.

"Princess Sola. Prince Libertus." Papa replies, lips only barely twitching from his polite smile. Uncle Cor holds no such reservations and is smirking at her next to a masterfully stoic Uncle Clarus.

Noctis echoes the formalities, relief edging out the wariness in his eyes. Prompto beams at her. Gladio's smirk is a match for Uncle Cor's, but it's the ever so slight curl to Ignis' lips and the gleam in his eyes as he dips his head to Sola that gives Sola's own smile a vicious edge of satisfaction.

Of everyone in Noctis' Retinue, he's the only one who'll immediately pick up all the nuances of Sola and Libertus' introductions without having to be told beforehand. She can already see his brain kicking into high gear, cataloguing the reactions around them to analyze and use later.

True to expectations, half the nobles that swarm them beeline specifically for Sola and Libertus. Those who don't are too distracted to ask about Noctis' disappearance or his health.

Gossipy hens.

This is only the beginning, Sola knows as the dinner bell rings and everyone is herded away to their seats. The first rush is always the greedy and the nosy, those insecure in their status and looking for any favor they can find. Annoying, but easily distracted by the newest and shiniest thing dangled in front of their noses.

The others will prove more challenging. They have the patience to wait and watch while others surge forward.

Noctis takes his place at Papa's right, then Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto. As Sword and a royal of higher 'rank' than Libertus, Sola should sit next to Prompto. As a pregnant Lucis Caelum in a technically vulnerable state, protocol allows for Sola to be bracketed on either side by her own spouse and Retinue. It hasn't been used since Merula the Honest - the Wise's grandmother. So it's no surprise that Libertus taking the seat next to Prompto draws a fair few frowns. No one actually dares comment after Papa barely glances at Libertus' supposed social gaffe. Papa knows Sola will cheerfully toss protocol out the window the first chance she gets. Of all the rules she could be breaking, giving Libertus 'her' seat isn't something to kick up a fuss over.

Sola's Retinue taking the seats to her right extends the buffer between Noctis and the nobles. Conversation isn't impossible, but it won't be easy and Sola can easily interject when needed. Given how Carmen's little brother Aedes is already staring at Noctis, Sola gets the feeling she'll be doing a lot of that.

Leaning forward under the pretense of adjusting her skirts, Sola catches Aedes' gaze and gives him a pointed look. The younger man blinks, flushes, then quickly faces forward again to busy himself with the first course being brought out.

Sola turns to her own food and settles in for a long couple of hours.

Oh well. No rest for wicked

[riverkloss]

My entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for her 500 challenge! My twist on Hansel and Gretel! Plus I made a moodboard which is super nice if I say so myself. ❤

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

I hated the dress, it was pretty but the way it hung on my body, the color, for what it stood for.

Purity, Marriage, to be chained down to a man, one I didn't love.

Harold's mother Mary was fixating on my hair, near pulling it out at the roots, I fought back the winces, at one point I thought about turning around and grabbing her hair to yank it out of her scalp.

She was tall, thin, she reminded me of a spider, her dark hair pulled into a bun, neat and tightly. A dark dress as if she was in mourning, I was.

She was acting as if I was her porcelain doll to dress up, one without a mind.

The reflection was haunting me, this girl staring back at me. Blank eyes, a trembling lip. It didn't look like me, she looked like a stranger, she looked lost.

Mary yanked again at my roots while braiding my hair, a burning pain running alongside my scalp, I hissed in pain. "Stop moving." She scolded me as if I was a child, I huffed out a breath of anger.

Hero's head perked up watching carefully with those big brown eyes of his, alerted and waiting. He was a very intimidating looking dog, but a big baby to me. He was a mutt, half sure he was a German Shepherd, and a Husky, his eyes always on me watching everything I did.

The last of his litter, the runt. Once I got him he grew and grew, he seemed to get bigger everyday.

My best and only friend.

"Is that what you have packed?" Her voice had a distasteful tone. I turned my head to follow her gaze on my trunk, a box full of books neatly stacked on top.

"Yes, May I ask why?"

I looked at her confused, I shifted the front of my body towards her, relieved that my hair was free of the clutches of her fingers.

"You won't be needing all those books, you won't have time to read once you have children." Her eyes look for an imperfection in my face, ready to fix it.

A sickening feeling turns my stomach. I will have to lie in bed with him, have his children.

The thought makes me ill.

"We need the money." The sentence my mother told me runs in my head.

"You should feel grateful for marrying my son." She states, her lip almost upturning in a snarl.

I want to tell her that her son is a pig, a ugly little repulsive pig with his head up her ass, the words die in my throat, I felt incapacitated by my own words, my mind, constantly double thinking over myself.

"Tell your husband that my dog likes to sit in the front seat." It felt good to push back even the slightest at her.

"Didn't your mother tell you? The mutt isn't coming with you, Harold has never been fond of dogs or any pets, dirty things." Those words pushed me back more, I actually let out a laugh in disbelief.

"I've seen dirtier." I smirked at her, I watched her open her mouth to say something as her face switched to spite.

"Mary? The guests are arriving." I hear her husband call out from behind the closed door.

Her hateful gaze doesn't intimidate me.

If anything it fuels me more.

"You best pray to God before the ceremony." Is all she says before she leaves me alone.

I bite back the untasteful words to tell her to shove God up her ass.

I turn my body towards my mirror once again, laying my palms flat on my vanity, so many emotions running through me.

Alone.

There was no stirring through the house, everyone was outside in the front of the house, my chance was open, and I was a fool if I stayed, lived in misery.

I was a fool to take it too, but a free fool was better than one who had none and was still a fool at the end of the day.

I needed a sign. A sign from any of the gods, I pleaded to any of them who would listen.

Then I heard the chime of bells, from the windchime against my window. There it was.

The last gaze I had in the mirror, at the girl who had the glint of a spark in her stormy eyes, a soft smile on her lips.

I darted for my carry bag, shifting my books off my trunk and stuffing clothes in, the few dollars I had, along with the few books I could take, feeling a loss for the others I had to leave behind.

"Let's go, Hero." I waved my hand, he sprinted up quickly to follow behind me, as I moved through the house quickly and quietly, to the kitchen. I opened the back door, the warmth of the spring air hitting me, as I stepped out the door. Hero was at my side as I closed the door behind me.

I turned my head, and my Uncle was leaning against the house smoking a cigarette, he looked at me, panic ran through my body.

And as I thought my freedom was vanishing through my fingers.

"Keep to the trail." He nodded to the woods, he took a deep inhale of his cigarette.

A breath of relief escaped my chest.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand. "See you later, Kid."

I smiled softly. "See you later."

I knew there wasn't a later, but it was better that way than saying goodbye.

The woods were only steps away, and I ran for life, for freedom.

I was a free fool.

~~~

Dark clouds came overhead, the night rolling in as the sun went down, the birds quieting.

My legs were heavy and burning, and Hero kept at my side, patiently.

"Are you lost?" A smoky voice says, making me jump with a gasp, my heart felt like it was going to pop from my chest.

I turned my body towards the trees. A tall man stepped out of the tree line, but didn't step on the trail, his hair was dark, braided and shaved at the sides, scuff lining his boyish features. I noticed a small birthmark on his cheek near his nose. He looked familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it. He was quite handsome.

"No, I'm not lost." I stated confidently. Hero didn't react to him, which was odd because Hero didn't like strangers. It made me slightly uneasy.

He perked up a dark brow at me, a charming smirk.

"Are you sure?" He was looking at my dress, his smirk getting slightly bigger.

"I would think you would be at a wedding."

I held onto my bag tightly, ready to strike first if it came that way.

"You should know that they are waiting for you at the end of the trail, they thought they would let you walk to defeat." He turns his head briefly to look down.

My face morphs in surprise for a moment, but it's something that my mother would do. That I believe.

"Why are you telling me?"

He bite his tongue with his sharpest canines.

"You're pretty."

I scoffed. I knew what I looked like, yes I was pretty, but men didn't want wives that outweighed them, or intimidated them.

Weak men.

"I know a way off the trail, one you won't get caught."

I pressed my lips together.

"How can I trust you when I don't know you, you're a stranger in my eyes.

"My name is Hvitserk, now we aren't strangers." He smiled at me.

He outstretched his hand for me to take, but I was still weary of him.

"If you try anything Hvitserk, I will let my dog tear you apart." I stated.

I reached for his hand, and he helped me step from the trail into the treeline, Hero followed and began walking in front of us.

"I'm curious, why did you run away, was the husband-to-be grotesque?" He is toying with something in his pocket and pulls out a few wild berries, he pops one into his mouth.

I laughed at that. "I don't want to be held down in a loveless, freedomless marriage, I want more."

He nods, listening to every word, while popping berries into his mouth.

"My father is pushing us boys to find wives, he is more in the old ways about it, stealing a woman and taking her to the underworld." I laugh a little at the underworld part.

"Like Hades and Persephone?"

He raises his eyebrows at me.

"You know that story?"

"I've always liked that story, My parents hated when I read books like that, they thought it would tamper with my mind." I whirl my finger around my temple.

"He stole her away, but they actually loved each other, he treated her with equality and respected her, never cheated on her, or had stray eyes for another, he would destroy the world if she asked." I continued.

He held out his hand to offer me a red berry and plucked one with my finger. I put the berry in my mouth, it was so sweet and ripe against my tongue, almost a cinnamon hint to it.

"If you asked me, I would too."

I playfully rolled my eyes, taking another berry, then another.

"Though my Mother doesn't want to admit it, I think she went willingly as well."

"Oh?" I peer at Hero who is still walking ahead. I paid little attention to what he said, but I should have.

"She ate the berries my Father offered to her, and she became tied to the underworld."

I stare at him like he's grown two heads.

And my gaze goes to the berry in my fingers,

Red and plump, I feel drunk all of a sudden and light like I am floating.

He curls himself around me, and I gasp.

"I think Cerberus will be glad to see his son again." He chimes.

He holds onto my full hip with a heavy grasp.

"I'm sure you'll give me sons too." His gaze darkens on me, he leans down to my lips and my heart feels heavy.

He presses his lips to mine, and I'm engulfed in hellfire.

Maybe being in the Underworld won't be so bad.