#its like life or death fighting. delectable.

[bobzora]

the thing about gamedev that they dont want you to know is that you have to actually dev your game @.@ crazy ! ! !

[slayerdiva]

I Would Die For You Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Katsuki Bakugou was not a man that could love easily. He had a close knit group of friends that he cherished, not that he would admit. So, when the day came that he was fighting to the brink of death he felt as if maybe he wasted too much time striving to be the number one hero.

He only felt like this once before, the battle of Shigaraki that scarred his heart and tainted his mind freely. There was someone he had grown particularly found of during his hero studies at the prestigious hero academy. A beautiful wolf hybrid that was gentle yet fierce in all the right ways. He always thought she was elegant and strong, two attributes that made him swoon silently.

The villain striked again, his blades emerging from every pore of his skin as he laughed in victory. Katsuki growled under his breath, his blood running warm down various lengths of his body.

His mind flashed with images just like that fateful day, the day he should have died. Serene images of the wolf hybrid giggling with the other heroes of Class-B. Images of her perfect form in battle as she fought with intelligence and grace.

A deep gasp escaped his lips as he propelled himself through the air to avoid a wave of silver fangs. The villain only smiled crazily as followed Katsuki's movements with no hesitation. Katsuki was tired, his body was tired.

"Dynamight!" A yell rang out. He recognized that voice, sweet and delectable to his ears. As his head turned ever so slightly, he saw that same wolf hybrid leaping from the tops of the buildings.

The villain snarled in distaste at the back up. Katsuki's mouth opened, his eyes widening as the villain turned his attention away from him to you instead.

Y/n came down, wisps of wind from gravity pulling you down quicker. Your eyes shined a bright blue, the anger coursing through your body as you watched the state of a person you would consider to be, more than a friend. A crush of yours even.

The villain sent the longest of blades, his plan to strike you mid air. Yet, as your claws extended a big smile embedded itself on your face. No fear. "You are going down, villain!" Y/n yelled as she cut each blade as it was merely paper. The claws of a wolf were no match for even the toughest of metals.

Katsuki landed on the ground roughly, his feet barley catching him before he collapsed on his knees. Pieces of metal were lodged in his body, sticking out in a gruesome way. His eyes were hazy as he watched the fight between the two of you unfold.

He watched as the villain would shriek in horror as you took down ever one of his blades with ease, his supply running low as the quirk enhancing drugs soon dwindled out of his system.

The villain looked around him with shaky eyes, his face sweaty from the side effects of the drug, and the reality of his situation. Your eyes widened as his own laid on a beaten Katsuki Bakugou. A scream of warning left your lips, to warn Katsuki to get the hell out of the way. Not one of anger, one of worry.

Katsuki was in no state to move, the bloodloss beginning to takes its toll on his body. The lack of sleep from taking shift after shift and mission after mission. He was a fool to overwork himself so much that he couldn't even fight to say his own life now.

His head slumped forward, ragged breaths leaving his slightly pale lips. Yet, as he waited for that pointed tip of death's touch pierce his body, no pain came.

The villain cackled loudly, head thrown back as you stood guarding a man you had found yourself caring for deeply. The villain pushed forward, the blade pushing itself deeper into your stomach. A yelp and a thud caused Katsuki to open his slightly droopy eyes.

"Y-Y/n.. Y/n!!" Katsuki felt the adrenaline pump through his body as he leapt forward to catch your body as the villain roughly pulled out his longest blade. A gap in your stomach as you gasped for fresh air. Katsuki felt his rage flair, his heart thumping loudly in his ears as he looked down at your precious face.

"W-What the hell did you do!" Katsuki yelled, his eyes wide in shock and fear. Y/n coughed, blood staining the corners of her lips. Katsuki took a tight grip on her form before blasting the two of them to a decent distance. The villains teasing words before he was quickly attacked from a rock hard body. Red Riot clashed his body against the villain, knocking his head back in agony. A spark of electricity surging through his body from the help of Chargebolt.

Katsuki looked down in surprise to see his friends. Red Riot in his unbreakable form looking at Katsuki holding a paling you in his arms.

"Get her out of here!" Red Riot yelled, Chargebolt continuing to keep the villains attention on him. Katsuki only nodded, turning away and holding you bridal style as he headed for the nearest hero hospital.

The doctors swarmed the two heroes as they made a grand entrance. A trail of blood in the entrance as nurses jumped up to call for an emergency.

Katsuki stood in silence as they pulled you out of his grip. His heart still pounding and blood still leaking from the blades that stuck tightly in his body.

They had pulled Katsuki away, advising the explosive hero that they would be admitting him into a surgery of his own. The last thing he remembered before his fell asleep was the gentle words of the doctors luling him to a dreamless sleep.

"You will be okay." Katsuki didn't care about himself. He cared about you.

Red Riot and Chargebolt had successfully captured the villain with the additional help of Shoto and Pinky. After they handed the villain over to police custody, Shoto had volunteered to commence with the paperwork and countless question so that they three others could leave to check in on their loved ones.

Pinky was doing her best to hold a brave facade. Red Riot drove the car, his hands gripping the steering wheel to the point that it cracked lightly under the pressure. Chargebolt looked outside the vehicle nervously, anxiety pooling in the pits of his stomach.

They had arrived at the hospital quickly, there hero clothes tattered and dirty from the battle. Kirishima rushed towards the front desk, his eyes wide with worry.

"Can you tell me if Dynamight and H/n are okay?" The nurse had asked him to hold for a moment while she called for the doctors. The other two heroes stood fidgeting behind there red haired friend.

"Dynamight has woken from his surgery, you may visit him. H/n is still in surgery, the weapon that pierced her unfortunately hit a vital organ. They are doing everything they can, but it is a very delicate procedure." Mina gasped, her waterline collecting with small tears that threatened to fall. Chargebolt brought her in his arms as he looked down at the floor in sorrow.

"T-Thank you." The nurse told them Katsuki's room number, the three of them walking through the corridors before finding his room. It was unbearably quiet inside, the three of them feeling nervous.

They entered the room, hushed tones. Katsuki was sitting up in his bed, head looking out the big bay windows that overlooked a portion of the city. He was eerily silent. Kirishima made their presence known by coughing, the blonde looking over.

He had been crying. Eyes bloodshot and rimmed with a light pink from being rubbed to roughly. "I failed. I utterly failed as hero." He muttered. They had all sat by Katsuki's side as defeat filled his every being.

"I-I told myself that I would finally tell her how I felt after the damn war and I never did. This is karma coming back at me." Katsuki admitted shamefully, looking down at his bandaged body. The three of his friends eyes widened at his outward speech. He had never spoke in this matter, so raw and full of emotion.

Kirishima shook his head, his hair half up and half down from his gel dissipating slowly during the fight. "That's not true. You'll still have a chance to set things right, she is a fighter. Y/n will make it." Mina nodded, sniffling softly. "Y/n is tough and no matter how hurt she becomes, she always pulls through." Chargebolt only agreed with the two of them.

They waited in silence. Waited. And Waited. And Waited for news. The three friends refused to leave until they had heard the outcome of the surgery. Only peeling off certain armored pieces of their uniform to relax more comfortably.

A knock sounded and they all jumped up.

An older looking man walked in, a doctor wearing a soft smile as his eyes landed on the worry filled faces of the heroes before him.

"H/n will make a fully recovery." He spoke as the rest of their eyes filled with tears of relief.

Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari left soon after hearing the news. Advising that they would be back with a worried Sero the next day. Katsuki nodded, his demeanor seemingly back to normal. Yet, when they exited his room his hand clutching the cloth over his heart. The guilt of the battle eating him alive. The images that would once symbolize the delicate features of you were replaced with the image of your blood stained body and the hole that was big enough for him to see through.

"Mr. Bakugou?" Katsuki jumped, his eyes catching a nervous looking nurse with a clipboard clutched to her chest. A flustered blush was evident on her face. "What?" She jumped slightly at his rough tone of voice.

"Miss L/n has woken up. I was told to let you know as- Wait! Mr. Bakugou, you can't leave your room! Sir!" The nurse shouted as she followed his limping form, cradled closely to the walls to look for your room.

The older man perked up seeing a bandaged wrapped Katsuki huffing loudly at the desk, the old man only nodded his head to the right. "Room 687, please be careful." Katsuki didn't take the time to thank him, not that he needed too. The man knew how worried he was for you and he learned early in his career to never get in a heroes' way when a friend is injured.

You jumped and gasped hearing the loud clash of the door. A small zip of pain emerging from your side. Katsuki limped inside, his eyes connecting with yours as he stood in absolute silence. "H-Hi?" Y.n said softly, Katsuki clicked his tongue before making his way over to her bed.

Y/n sat back nervously as Katsuki glared down at her form. "You're a damn fool! How could you do that! Put yourself in that position?!" Katsuki yelled, Y/n only sat calmly as her eyes never left his furious ones.

"We as heroes are always prepared- Don't give me that shit! You almost died!" Katsuki shouted, chest heaving as his voice cracked ever so slightly.

Y/n only reached forward, grasping his face in her softly bandage wrapped hands. His eyes flicked down before flicking back to hers. "I would die for you, Katsuki Bakugou, because that's how much you mean to me." You said softly, wolf ears tucked out and pointed in opposite sides. Katsuki's breath caught in his throat, you looked gorgeous and heavenly no matter how beaten you looked.

Tears left his eyes and you hummed softly, wiping them away with the tips of your thumbs. "Y-You idiot." Katsuki muttered before collapsing into your hold as he gripped the back of your gown tightly in his fists.

Y/n brushed her fingers through his fluffy locks, a gentle smile. Her own tears fell, in happiness that the two of them had finally admitted their feelings. You had been waiting diligently for this moment, though you imagined it to be a bit different.

"Don't you ever do that shit again." Katsuki said, his words muffled from the cloth of your gown. Y/n pulled back slightly, he looked up, and their lips connected in the softest of kisses.

"I will protect you with my life just like I know you would protect me with yours." The two of them blushed slightly from the intimacy yet Katsuki couldn't not help but release a grunt.

"You're right. I would die for you too, Y/n L/n." He said as they kissed longingly once again, releashing in the wonderful feelings that emerged from within their hearts as they beat as one.

______________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading.

[candywife333]

Red Riding Hood

"Scary" wolf hybrid Namjoon x red riding hood chubby reader

Inspired by Cupcakke's new song "Little Red Riding Hood"

Triggers: cursing,, period sex mentions

Debating on a part 2

Blood hell! It was already 7:00 in the evening and it had gotten so dark out, I had hardly kept track. I was supposed to go to grandmother's house to deliver a batch of double chocolate chip cookies that I had just made.

Period cramps were the worst, and the only way I could fight them was by eating so many chocolatey foods that I felt like throwing up. I usually have horrible pain like someone stabbing me with a sword fifty times in my gut as I squeeze out blood clots the size of blueberries😣. I know, my life is an entire travesty.

It's as thought my body was punishing me for not being pregnant😭. Whatever I guess, such is life. I ceased my philosophizing and grabbed a raggedy red hoodie , holes and loose strings all over, that had seen better days honestly. The main reason I planned to wear it is so that, just in case I leak, it is long enough to cover my butt. Therefore, it would almost be as though..........I never leaked.

Grabbing the basket of delectable baked goods, I started walking onto the cobblestone path to grandma's house. I was second guessing my decision to go to her house because it had gotten way darker than I was expecting it to get. And, my period cramps had started up again, slicing me up internally like a guillotine.

As I cringed in pain and felt the cold sweat trail down my temples, I still persisted in walking at a faster pace so I could make it to her house in at least half an hour. The old biddie lived out there in the middle of nowhere ready to be stabbed by a bloody serial killer. It is as though she saw all the horror movies and still decided to have a death wish. Swear on my mother, I loved that old lady. But sometimes she just acted so senile you could question her sanity.

I mean what business did she have living out here in the middle of nowhere, being a living, walking health liability? As I continued musing, I failed to notice the shadow lurking behind me in the growing darkness of the night. I was startled , almost dropping my basket when I heard a deep, rather seductive voice rumble out, " What are you doing here in the dark, pretty girl? Are you lost in the woods"?

Now, correct me if I am wrong. I usually don't judge people. But did this dude have a health condition? Or was he big-foot? Because he was the hairiest human being I had ever seen in my short life---and mind you, I know its a little TMI, but I grow hair on my butt and one day, to my great consternation, I even found a hair on my bellybutton😱. Yeah, we can freak out about that at a different date. So you see, I know what hairy is. But this man doesn't look hairy, he looks almost as though he is covered in fur. A 6 foot dude covered in fur. Worthy of the Guiness book of world records if you ask me. And he stank like five hundred period pads on a vacation in the Bahamas.

Chiding myself for being such a judgmental b****, I said in a confused manner, " Do you need anything Sir? Because I have a place to be, and no, I am in fact not lost. But if you push me a little further , in the rather sensitive state I am in right now, you might........find lost yourself..........if you catch my drift". He gasped , looking rather shocked, "Little lady, are you implying that you will make me disappear---that you will kill me"?

I continued walked at a faster pace away from him as I spelled out in a curt tone, " I can neither confirm nor Deny Mister".

He was really testing my patience right now. I am leaking like the bloody niagara falls and he's trying to interrogate me. Like what the eff did he want from me right now? When I had places to be. Is this how men flirt? Because he was doing a horrendous job at it. He was messing with the wrong b** right now. I am not in the mood for this tomfoolery.

He trailed after me at an equally hurried pace, "Are you not scared of me? Worried that I will kidnap you"? I groaned as I kept walking, huffing out, "If you had that many guts you would've just done it by now dude. Why make threats when you can just do it? Actions speak louder than words. And right now, your actions are telling me that you are a wimp".

He seemed rather affronted, eyebrows wiggling together in a menacing frown as he bit out in a menacing tone, " Did you just call me a coward, young lady? Do you even know who you are dealing with"?

What an irritating numbskull?!!Couldn't he see that I had places to bloody be?😡🤬

I turned to him one last time, taking a cursory glance at his hairy ass and hairy legs. This man did not keep shaving as a priority. "Look bruv, you are doing the most right now. Now, I am not one to mince my words--so I will tell you in the politest way possible right now, since as you can see---I was brought up with etiquette and manners".

I took in a deep breathe to calm myself as much as I could, "Your ass stank like a hundred buckets of sardines left out to dry on a hot summer's day. You talk too much and I am hemorrhaging into my butt crack, which is right now defying all laws of physics. I feel nauseous looking at you, as I am bleeding to death. The least you could do is leave me alone, so I can deliver these gosh darn abominable cookies that I should've just eaten and period pooped it out myself". I started sobbing and crying, so saddened by how much this fool was holding me up ....on my period....in the forkin' darkness.

He looked utterly shook at my monologue. Frozen in place as I continued moving away, weeping into the night, bleeding torrentially as I ran away . Mother fu*** couldn't even give a girl a lift to the place she was going to go. He failed at even being a proper kidnapper. I mean what was he even good for if he couldn't even be a good criminal??

______________Finally at grandma's house🍪_________

I finally got to this old b****'s house. Almost bursting a blood vessel in my forehead. Why the f did she have to live so far away? This is odd, her door was already open. Strange. She never did that. Very uncharacteristic of her. She was all about safety and keeping windows, doors locked --- as though that was going to save her ass from dying in the middle of nowhere.

Pondering upon the morbid nature of my thoughts, I walked in absent-mindedly through her cottage till I got to her living room. There she was, wrapped in a blanket sitting on the rocking chair. She looked rather thick, if you get what I mean. I don't remember her packing on this much weight, or being this tall. She was known for being frail. Something was up.

Maybe she decided that thick thighs save lives or something and started fattening herself up. Who knew the body positivity movement affected grannies too? "Grandma, what are you doing on that chair? Did you have dinner yet? And why is your door open"?

As I got closer and closer to the chair, whoever it was sitting on there, looked less and and less like a grandma, and more like wolf. I froze, confused. What the hell was that on the chair?

The thing on the chair started cackling as the blanket fell to the floor. I yelled in indignation, my patience for life finally cooked to smithereens "WTF ARE YOU DOING IN MY GRANDMA'S COTTAGE YOU HAIRY CREEP? DID YOU EAT HER"? The hairy man I had seen in the woods was dressed in my grandma's nightie , looking at me hungrily -- as though he were a starving waif who saw tiramisu for the first time in his life.

He drawled out in rather disgruntled, irritated voice, "Your grandma is on vacation in Bora Bora little lady. She left me to watch her house. Did you not receive the text last week from her"? I huffed out, annoyed at the blase tone he was using with me, "you freaking liar" as I checked my phone. As he had said, the old biddie had texted me last week about her vacation, and it had gone into my spam.

I straightened up, feeling a little bad for yelling at him. "Then why are you dressed up in her nightie dude? Are you into cross dressing or something"? He looked even more irritated than he did before, eyes shining with frustration as I continued, gesturing with my hands ,"I won't judge you for it. We are totally pro LGBTQ in this household you know".

He suddenly got up from his chair and snatched me up by my waist. He smelled way better than he did before, faintly of lavender as he laid me up on her bed. Wait, her bed? Whoa, Whoa. What the hell. This becoming 365 days way too quickly.

I squeaked out in confusion, "What the hell you doing man? I am on my period. You can not squeeze and manhandle me like that. I WILL LITERALLY SQUIRT ON YOU LIKE A KETCHUP BOTTLE"!! He paused for a second, looking like he was going to die of laughter. As he collected himself slowly, he warbled out, " Look, I am not trying to manhandle you. It's just that I am a straight man who is just in his werewolf form. And you are judging me when I am on my rut".

I bent my head, questioning him, "AND what's that supposed to mean? You get hairy and horny"? He nodded, as though it was all self explanatory. I seethed , metaphorical steam coming out of my ears, "Look dude--I see that you are babysitting my grannie's cottage and you are on your rut, but what does that have to do with you following me, wearing a nightie , and acting like an overall creep"?

His eye twitched as he bit out in an exasperated tone, " I fell into a pile of rotting salmon at my friend's fish farm and came to your grandma's cottage , that I had to check on anyway for the night, saw you ambling down the path and wanted to make sure you were safe in the dark, and then washed off all of the scent ---realizing her nightie was the only clean thing I could wear. That is why you are seeing me here".

I sniffed, astounded at his rather logical explanation, "Fine, then elaborate to me, why you called me pretty lady"? He scoffed, guffawing ,"You mean to tell me, that you are offended that I called you pretty lady? How am I supposed to know that you are on your period and are having a horrible mood swing. I ain't telepathic".

I stared at him, ready to fight him. Yes, he was supposed to know that i WAS ON MY BLOODY PERIOD, BECAUSE HOW COULD HE CALL HIMSELF A WOLF OTHERWISE ? "hOW COULD YOU NOT SNIFF THE BLOOD SEEPING OUT OF MY VAGINA, YOU FOOL"?!!!

He yelled out in panic, " Of course I can SMELL IT WOMAN!!! IT'S DELECTABLE AND YUMMY! BUT I'M TRYING TO AVOID SNIFFING IT FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY , SO I DON'T RUT YOU AND MAKE YOU MY MATE!!! STUPID GIRL, CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I'M ALMOST GOING TO SNAP"?!!!

I settled down, exhausted and almost yawning from this tirade, "You could just ask if you want to eff me you know? I wouldn't mind".

He stared at me in confusion, "Woman, you are unhinged and if I wasn't so desperate, I would walk away. But since I have no choice", he threw me on his lap bringing his arms around my plush waist to make me sit upon his length "Let's get this over with".

[aheckinmess]

Elysium [Hawks] (Angst)

(One-shot 22/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Keigo Takami, Tamaki Keigo, Hawks, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Tigress, Angst, Well I Say Angst But it Ended Up Fluffier Than Expected, Protective Hawks, Hawks Saves the Day, Soft Hawks, OC Falls from the Sky, I Know it Sounds Weird, But You'll Understand in Time, Hawks Has to Save Her, Also There's a Coffee Shop Involved, A Bookstore is Mentioned, Hawks Needs a Hug, OC Needs a Jacket, Hawks is a Casual Flirt, And This Surprises No One

Word Count: 1,611 words

Summary: When Ichijiku goes from reading her favorite book to falling off a building, it's obvious her day is a little topsy turvy. After being saved by Hawks, she can't get the winged wonder out of her mind. A chance encounter in a coffee shop tells her that he can't stop thinking about her, either.

Ichijiku (Tigress)

There is no doubt about how the sun felt dripping liquid serenity into my veins. Nor is there any doubt about the way I’d dove into my book to taste the delectable tale on the pages.

So it is only natural that when I open my eyes and see the bustling streets below me that I’m a little confused. Why is my body so heavy? Why am I at the top of a skyscraper? 

The questions send me into a sort of vertigo. When I lift my head from the sights below, my equilibrium swirls out of balance. One moment I’m sitting up on the ledge and the next my body tilts forward, my heart left behind as I fall over the edge.

Time seems to stall as the world whips past my line of sight. Nothing stops the twisted feeling of sludge crawling through my mind as I watch the pavement coming closer and closer, not fully comprehending the gravity of its approach. 

When a familiar red feather whips past me, the first threads of hope ripple through my limbs until Hawks' figure comes into view. This foreign yet familiar man is a sight for sore eyes as the certainty of my death abruptly slaps me in the face. 

My arms already instinctively reach for him as he stretches for me, capturing me into his arms and then smiling with such a sweet smile. A smile that often captivated the hearts of women and journalist cameras alike. His eyes hide behind a visor as I drink him in, likening him to a heavenly protector as he pulls me against his chest and banks a hard right while he redirects my fatal projection.

Whenever it's clear my life will not end - at least not today - I focus on soothing my heart rate.

"I've got you! Just hold on tight and I'll get you to safety!" He promises, the vow sinking deep into my bones and offering me respite. "Focus on breathing for me, alright? You're going to be okay!" 

His voice somehow still holds its honey-like quality even as he fights to be heard over the wind. My eyes fight against the desire to be closed again, rolling around in my head as a pair of gloved hands keeps my head steady when it’s obvious I can’t. 

We’re on the ground for a minute-long eternity before I realize it.

“Hey, come back to me, cutie pie. Focus here.” His voice and those golden-brown eyes keep my attention, and it’s obvious he clocks the moment I’m responsive again. “Good. There you are. Talk to me; does anything hurt? What’s your name?”

A soft whimper makes it past my lips. My limbs still fight to move through their slimy slumber, and dammit, I just want him to keep talking to me.

“Keep…talk…” I plead, head flopping back until he readjusts me and his other question registers. “Ichijiku.”

He chuckles and it feels like we’re in the air again, his laughter elevating me right up into the clouds. 

“I can keep talking, but you try loosening this death grip you’ve got on me in the meantime, okay?” He teases, a smirk pulling at the edges of his lips.

I blink and look at his chest, where a pair of hands clutch his aviator jacket. No, not just hands, my hands. While he calls the paramedics and coaxes me with soothing words, I work on regaining control of my fingers and extracting them from my hero’s jacket.

“Sorry.” I finally mutter, interrupting his reassurances. “I don’t know what’s wrong. My…my head.” 

“What’s wrong with your head, honey?”

“Everything feels fuzzy.” I start, opening and closing my hands agonizingly slowly. “My body is moving through sludge, it feels like.”

“Sounds like she might have been drugged.” A new voice enters the fray, and it’s not nearly as pleasant.

A tall woman approaches in a EMT uniform and shines a light in my eyes, making me wince. Electricity crackles through my skull until I’m leaning closer to Hawks again.

“I found her falling off of the Honshii building. She was barely able to hold her head up by herself when we landed.” Hawks reports, before giving a little smile and a wave to me. “I’ll leave you in these fine peoples’ capable hands, cutie. Got more people to rescue. See you on the flip side!”

“Don’t go…”

But he’s gone before the words finish leaving my mouth.

. . . . .

My physical recovery doesn’t take long, but sleeping becomes nearly impossible. I’m reassured that it’ll pass, but that seems a little silly considering the circumstances. One moment I’m reading and falling asleep, the next I’m falling off a 20-story building. 

So, the next morning I head to the coffee shop down the street.

The blast of warmth as I step inside helps soothe my tired bones. Bustling bodies clamber together in a line as order after order is placed at the counter.

When I accidentally step back into a familiar, golden-haired angel, I think I’m dreaming.

“Fancy running into you here, honey. Glad to see you’re not falling out of the sky again.” Hawks winks at my bewildered expression before his gaze softens. “How have you been?”

I’d thought that my delirious state might have accounted for the amount of comfort I felt from his voice, but even now his dulcet tones warm me more than any cup of coffee could.

“It’s been hard to sleep, but I’m alive and well.” I chuckle, stepping forward and looking up at the menu. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable that day.”

“Uncomfortable? I had a cute girl clinging to me the whole time. Can’t be more comfortable than that.” He smiles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “If anything, I should be making sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable. Casual flirting isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s a habit of mine.”

“Oh, haha, no. If anything it helps my self-esteem coming from someone resembling an actual angel.” I rub the back of my neck and step forward to order my drink. “Can I get a large caramel frappuccino?”

“Sure thing!” The cashier replies, eyes locked on Hawks as she waves me down. “We’ll let you know when it’s ready. Hi, Hawks!”

“Hey, hey! How’s it going?” Hawks grins at the fangirling barista.

I smile and head down to the end to wait for my drink, wondering how it must feel to be recognized everywhere you go. I wonder if he ever gets tired or feels like taking a break from it all. He seems fine, but it has to be draining. 

“So, do you have any plans for the day?” He asks as he waits for his order with me.

“I’m not sure. It’s been hard to focus on much since I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m lucky my job is so fulfilling to me or I’d never get through the day.” I admit, chewing on my lip.

“I see. Where do you work?”

“I work at a local bookstore in town.”

“Ah, bookworm, I presume?”

“Guilty as charged.” I grab my drink as the barista hands it over. “I love reading and writing.”

“Think you’d like going to the pond with me? It’s the perfect reading nook.” Hawks leans against the counter on his elbow, eyes captivating behind his sunglasses.

“With…with you?” My eyes widen. “I’m not sure I’m worth the time, especially on your day off.”

“On the contrary, you’re a breath of fresh air.” He takes a sip of his coffee once it’s handed to him and tilts his head. “So, what do you say?”

“I could use some company.”

. . . . .

We’re both quiet as we crunch the autumn leaves on our way to the pond. Ducks greet us with noisy quacks as their companions loop around the pond with them. 

Between the windy breeze and my cold drink, goosebumps raise on my arms and I shiver. A moment later, the soft lining of Hawks’ aviator jacket envelops my shoulders.

“Oh, you don’t have to–”

“I insist.” Hawks says, guiding us to the edge of the dock spanning the circumference of the pond. “You seemed rather intent on stealing it when I saved you, anyway.”

I laugh at that.

“Okay, but to be fair, I wasn’t in my right mind at the time.”

“That only proves to me that you must have really wanted it. Without your inhibitions you were so eager to have me close.” He continues his taunting before he pauses at the wooden railing overlooking the lily pads. He glances at me and then over the water. “I can’t stop thinking about you, ya know? I’ve saved hundreds of people, but I’ve never had such a hard time getting someone off my mind as you.”

Blood rushes up my neck and into my cheeks, now burning from his attention.

“I, um, I’m flattered. I don’t know why you’d be so interested, but it feels good.” I manage to say, wringing my hands together as I try not to freak out. Am I still not sure I’m hallucinating because of sleep deprivation? “I’m sure you’re not surprised to know that I’ve been thinking about you, too. But honestly, it’s been more so because I cringe every time I think about how I must have looked at you when you saved me.”

“Ha! Why would you cringe about that?”

“Because when I saw you, I thought you were sent straight from heaven.” I shake my head, taking another slurp of my drink. “I must have looked so dumb.”

“No. You looked like you’d reached Elysium. And honestly?” Hawks tilts my face towards him. “I thought I had, too.”

Want More Hawks? Try: Hide & Seek Pt. 1

[bucketspammer4life]

☆ WVBA On A Snow Day ☆

hehe this is so jolly (i am writing this in the middle of august and it doesnt snow where i live)

Glass Joe

- layers and layers of thick & warm clothing, walking around with 5 layers of scarves, coats & sweaters, might as well wear the entire closet

- tried to make a snowman, it got knocked over insantly

- freezing, he is really shivering his timbers over here

- had some hot cocoa

- went iceskating, slaying it

- did some snow angels with Mr Sandman

- he doesnt tolerate the cold well but still having fun

Von Kaiser

- 2 layers of comfy & cozy clothing, the cold isnt getting to him today nuh uh

- so whimsy, so jolly, he is so thriving

- making snowmen with disco kid, ended up making a snowfamily for the snowmen and a snowdog and made them pay snowtaxes and busted their snowcaps if they didnt pay up

- worst iceskater ever but still having fun

- sitting next to a fireplace & reading a book, he looks like hes gonna tell you a bedtime story

- eating snow yum yum exquisite delicious delectable tasty

Disco Kid

- didnt wear enough layers, out here shivering like a kitten in a wet cardboard box out in the street

- made sure the snowmen paid their snowtaxes

- hes the reason why they call it iceskATEing, smoother than the ice hes skating on

- drinking iced coffee no matter the weather, -20 degrees celsius? At least his ice will last longer

- made a igloo, nobody except kaiser is invited

- fell asleep next to a fireplace like a street cat saved from the cold

King Hippo

- not going outside, ever, he doesnt handle the cold well, it isnt just a "my timbers are shivering i need a extra layer" its more of a "hypothermia is just behind the corner and i dont feel like dying"

- do not expect him to step outside, not even a foot

- drinking soup & sleeping half of the day

- Literally hibernating

- so many blankets & pillows, taking the longest nap of the world ever

Piston Hondo

- also needs a whole lot of layers, out here looking like a head of lettuce

- making really cool snow sculptures, so proud of them

- enjoying hot cocoa, wrapped up in a blanket

- snowball fight starter, he simply let the thoughts win

- keeps tripping while iceskating, has to hold on to bear hugger for dear life because he doesnt wanna faceplant into the floor

- joining kaisers snow eating, he just sat next to him & started eating snow as well

Don Flamenco

- forgot to layer up & regrets not wearing a extra coat, bull had to lend him one because he looked like he was on the verge of death

- making snow angels, keeps getting snow thrown at his face as he lays down

- put his forehead wig thing on a snowman

- sad because he forgot to take his plants inside & they died :(

- killing it while iceskating, out here spinning like a beyblade

- keeps falling asleep at weird places because cold weather + curling up in a ball really honks his shoos, ends up being carried to somewhere warm & not so inconvenient, everyones just playing a big game of "where has this bitch fallen asleep again?"

- laying down on the snow, hes just peaceful right now

Bear Hugger

- layered up decently

- he was literally born for this kind of weather

- rolled a snowball down a hill & accidentally made a small avalanche

- cold weather makes him really sleepy, unlike don flamenco he knows how to not fall in inconvenient places

- stiff as a statue while iceskating, one wrong move and hes on the floor along with hondo

- on a rocking chair next to a fireplace, christmas movie intro style

- feels kind of lonely since his fellow bears he likes to hug are hibernating (the animal ones not the gay ones smh, if i meant it like that he would be hibernating too)

- made a small scarf for his squirrel friend : )

Aran Ryan

- atrocious winter clothes, someone call the fashion police

- trips every 5 seconds while iceskating, his face is so bruised its unreal

- chucking snowballs and running away from people

- joined Sandman roll down a hill for fun, nobody spoke, nobody showed any emotions, but it was truly one of the memories of all time

- cold weather makes him energetic so hes a pain in the ass to deal with even more now

Soda Popinski

- wearing shorts & a tshirt, really good at tolerating the cold, soda popinski doesnt get hypothermia, hypothermia gets soda popinski

- also eating snow with kaiser & hondo

- tried to iceskate & chipped a tooth

- used as a human shield during the snow ball fight

- he showers in ice cold water on the daily so this doesnt inconvenience him at all

Bald Bull

- brought a extra coat because he knew don would forget to layer up & wouldnt listen to him if he reminded him

- in awe of soda popinski not being affected at all

- making huge snowballs and chucking it at aran ryan

- cold weather gets him angry & stressed a whole lot (same with any extreme weather condition) so tread carefully or this snow is gonna look like the flag of japan

- staying inside, mostly coming out when hes bored

- drinking tea & reading most of the time

- Just spinning while iceskating, cant seem to stop

Great Tiger

- has to also wear his entire closet, ends up getting sick anyway

- Just sadly staring out of the window

- making his clones play in the snow because just because he cant go doesnt mean they cant go

- drinking tea, hes so peaceful rn dont bother him

Super Macho Man

- not dressed up at all, got sick

- really pissed off he cant go out

- bitterly sitting in bed with a fever

- he is so gonna sob until hes no longer ill

Mr Sandman

- only person to tiptoe on that line between "you look like a pillow" And "you might as well go out naked" in terms of winter clothes

- Just making deformed snowmen

- suprisingly didnt fall on his face while iceskating

- he makes some killer hot chocolate

- tried to eat snow & got brainfreeze

- rolling down a hill for fun & climbing back up to do it again, with the most serious expression ever

[whirling-fangs]

@fallesto // cont.

VICTORY

 Was there anything more sweeter than that single word. something that should have been delivered into the palms of his hands, centuries ago had at long last come to pass. With cost as well, but empires where not built on promises, they were built, crafted and stacked high upon the bodies of your enemies and those that followed you into battle as well. It was a slight pity that so many had to die for this moment to become .. a reality.

NO LONGER A DREAM. NO LONGER A WISH, NO LONGER A COMMAND .. IT WAS HAPPENING.

AFTER A THOUSAND YEARS HE WAS PERFECT.

Some frustrations, some setbacks, but nothing that could not be corrected with the correct amount of offerings he was going to require to sustain himself going forward. In there plight, his enemy had been cornered, he had underestimated them greatly, there hatred had given way to such .. underhanded tactics, but what truly should he have expected, they were after all only human .. he could not expect them to fight and die on there feet like there ancestors had, like the swordsmen they claimed to be. They had to use poison to injure him. to accelerate his body thousands of years. To kill him hardly, but as centuries added, ten thousand years where tolled onto his body within a matter of minutes. Frustrating truly that they had done so much damage to his very core and it was still hardly enough.

“Settle down Kiba .. you can wait a handful of minutes, it is about to begin.”

As he sat there, licking the back of his hand, tasting that blood of that little brat with those earrings. Delicious, it truly was worth, the amount of demons he had to sacrifice to taste a sun breather at long last with his own tongue. His countless jaws would open and close around his body, as they where drinking in the blood of those he had pulled to pieces upon his rampage. The destruction of his fortress, of this city, of demons, slayers, innocent people being crushed and caught within the mayhem that had spread out like wild fire, while all tried to slaughter him once and for all, but they had failed as he sat upon the pile of bodies with one leg brought up as he rested his arm across it, his head upon that as he stared at the burning darkness.

“Kiba, watch.”

Everything else that needed to be done could await until after this moment. He had waited a thousand years for this, he was not going to have any interruptions nor was anyone going to ruin this for him. As his crimson hues would widen as he stared into the distance. Everyone was dead, all of his demons, the entire raced had been brought down to merely two, but he hardly cared at all. those that died, where not good enough to lick the blood of his feet. Death was failure, death was an insult, death was a waste of his blood, his mercy, his gift, if one survived and hundreds died, they had no right to call themselves demons in the first place. They had all served there purpose anyway. Everything that has been done, everything that has been gained, lost .. everything truly, was for this one single moment and he had to admit for the first time in his long life .. he was excited as he stared forward at the flickering lights in the distance.

THE SUNRISE WAS COMING.

It was all over. As unexperienced as he might be, as laughable the length of his existence mght be, compared to that of his master... Kiba understood the meaning of this moment. He could feel the change deep in his flesh, a sense of excitement filling his every muscle, his eyes locked on the horizon.

He was about to see it again. The giant, warm orb that rose in the sky inexorably, morning after morning, forcing demons to retreat away from its light.

No longer. No longer would Kiba cower away from its burning rays. The delectable blood still stained his lips and chin, that special blood, which he had dared take a lick of. He had let the Lord eat their fill first, of course, but Kiba had been bold enough to claim a part of the prize.

He was the one who had brought the earrings slayer to his demise, after all. He had remembered his own past... and used it against the humans who so desperately begged for his return by their side.

They had all been such pathetic fools. How could they understand the position he was in? Humans had rejected him, mocked him. They had made sure that he never truly felt like he belonged amongst them.

The Lord was different. He had understood Kiba's deepest desire. He had given the young demon what he wanted. His teachings were harsh, his anger was boundless towards those who disappointed him... but the Lord was fair. The Lord had welcomed him.

Kiba almost threw himself at the corpses, only to freeze at the Lord's call. Right. There was a spectacle to admire first.

The young demon stood a little closer to his beloved Lord, a quick glance flickering in the latter's direction. Oh, how glad he was to be standing here, graced by the Lord's presence. All the other demons had failed. He was the only one left, the strongest of them all... the only one worthy of standing by the Lord's side, as he witnessed the sun's inexorable ascent above the horizon.

As the first rays finally pierced above the rubble, Kiba instinctively slipped behind the Lord's silhouette. An instinctive fear urged him to take cover, a hand clinging to the demon's robes, emerald eyes slowly peeking from behind Muzan's back. Waiting for reassurance.

[firstseasonlisazemo]

Emperor's Lunch Hour

Summary: Hession receives his wife for lunch hour, as he usually does. He wonders at which point everything went wrong.

Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

Non-explicit depictions of violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Words: 1200

Notes: I'm weak for a cute guy, especially if I can't have. I don't mind if he's manipulative trash.

Hession is, as of the closing of the war, the collapse of the Church of Ethis and the death of the Earth Magician, the most powerful man in all of this continent, from east to west. He has always been spoiled, being the only son of the previous emperor and having a mother who hedged her position and sanity upon him and him alone, but it does not compare to the power and privilege of being a hegemon.

There is nothing under the sun he cannot dispose at will. He could have anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers, no matter what or who it inconvenienced. And now, he had her.

Ertha. The Purifier. The successor of Arantium and the figure at whose feet he demands every living being in this land to bow.

She is the one thing in all the realms that he yearned for above all others. The one thing he is willing to risk all his principles, all his dreams for. Even if she has brought him no boon, no benefit, even if she had cost him his crown, he would be content if he could call her his.

So why was he not happy?

Ertha went above and beyond in keeping her word. Almost ten years ago, when that lovely but admittedly runty figure approached him some forgettable night at a dark alley, the then-Crown Prince did not believe her words of being some sort of seer, of knowing how to neutralise Duke Callendor and bringing him to heel once and for all. In return, he would only have to pay off her debt and extend her his protection. Her and her siblings.

The only reason Hession took the deal she offered was due to that sweet, delectable smell that seemed to sing salvation to his weary mind. Five billion did not seem that immense of a sum if he could bask in that heavenly presence for the rest of his short, wretched life. He did as she said fully expecting for it all to blow back on his face and for him to lose it all, and he would fall to his doom with a smile on his face, like the angel she purposed to be.

Yet, he did not. Her twin siblings were Magicians, too. She did know how to turn Nayakaar against the Church and have them fight it out until they were both much too weak to resist his rule. She had a weak spot in mind for Duke Callendor’s plan of world domination, and she knew how to co-opt it to his advantage. She was telling the truth, and, in doing everything as she told him, she gave him the world on a silver platter.

Hession might not be the most capable ruler in the world, and he can silently admit it to himself, but he has the sense of heeding to wise counsel when offered and proven. As such, he still surrenders his own authority mostly to the domain of Lady Ertha in all his business.

The old opium pipe laid, dusty and untouched, at the bookshelf. He has no mistresses or lovers of any kind, being fully committed to the marriage he chose. No gambling was allowed within palace grounds, and every vice was closely monitored and well-structured to every denizen outside its gates. Balls were sparse in the social calendar. All in all, it was a very spartan, almost boring life, but it brought him precious joy, that he both could not live without nor attain otherwise.

Every day, he would wake up in the morning to the lady in his arms. He would receive a kiss on the cheek, and a sleepy greeting. Then he would dress for the day, and dress her in the finest clothes the empire had to offer, before promising he would be good and do his work. And if he was good and followed through with his schedule with competence and efficiency, like today, she would come to him at noon punctually trailed by five servants to bring him his lunch. She would smile charmingly quietly, praise his industriousness, give him another kiss on the cheek, and sit with him while he ate.

This is all he wanted, after all. What he wagered his life and limb for. So why was he not happy? Perhaps, it was the way the light no longer showed in her eyes when she looked at him. Perhaps, it was the way every smile seemed strained, and every kiss seemed cold and rehearsed. Perhaps, it was the way she quickly left the moment he said she was free to go.

"Is there anything else you need, my lord?" She asks, pleasantly, but ultimately neutral.

My lord. It was never an endearment anymore, a kind word to praise his improvements as a person. Neither was it his given name. It was simply "my lord".

He hated it.

Lately he would find himself embarrassingly often just staring at her, wondering what he could have done differently. He has given her everything she wanted, have he not? He has granted her the protection she needed, given her a thousand-fold the amount she owed, he loved her.

Loved her enough to keep her with him, to abdicate of everything else but the single-minded enterprise of making her happy and proud of him. To make it so they would never have to be apart, for it to be impossible. He did not need anything else, not really, when she quieted the voices in his head, when her scent was stronger than any narcotic.

So what he had been cruel? It was necessary. His soul was a low price to pay, if he still had it to lose. Her contempt, however…

“My lord?”

The emperor blinks and focus his attention back at the conversation at hand. “Yes, dear?”

"I asked if there was anything else you need, my lord." She repeats, a tinge of impatience entering her voice.

He chuckled bitterly. "Yes. Your love."

Her eyes widened, before Ertha heaved a heavy sigh and sat back in her chair. She buried her face in her hands for a moment, before looking back at her unruly husband, and squaring her shoulders.

"You already had it."

It felt like she had just stabbed him in the gut. Hession should correct her behaviour, like his father used to do with his mother. Like he himself is no strange in doing. He should teach her how to address him properly, for that is what his station demanded of him, regardless of the dynamics of their joint rule.

Yet, he knew she is right. So, instead, he just stared, and swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. He stood up, and cupped her small, fragile, angelic face, in his large, strong demonic hand. She did not flinch like she used to, but she also did not react. She just looked at him with empty eyes. 

He sighed and pulled away, sitting down and getting his paperwork ready. "You may go. I shall see you at dinner."

She bowed deeply, and left without another word.

Hession used to be happy. Ertha used to be happy.

*_*_*_*_*

Please Don't Eat Me! Masterlist

[merakiui]

Frostbite

yandere!childe x (gender neutral) reader art credit - GNSN_FA on twt cw: yandere, blood, minor gore (lacerations), unhealthy behaviors/relationship, mentions of death/hypothermia, fighting

It’s borderline animalistic, the way you cling to warmth and life like a starved, neglected hound. Your fingers stiffen in a vain attempt to flex—to successfully grasp your sword like a true warrior. The furs that were once draped over your body are ragged, torn to shreds from a dangerous battle between the elements and him. There’s no mistaking the excitement that lights his every nerve like bulbs hanging from a Christmas tree, coated in the maddening swell of potent bloodlust. If surrender was an option, you would have done it long ago.

Even then, you’re certain he wouldn’t give you such a benevolent chance no matter how hard you were to beg and plead.

Your breath materializes like a phantom in front of your face, a cruel reminder that you’re still breathing in a battered body. Your fingernails are chipped, blood running down the tips from an icy struggle, but you refuse to succumb to the cold. Instead, you allow yourself to be swept up in his electrified stare. 

“What’s the matter, comrade?” There’s a wry smile pulling his chapped lips apart, showcasing flawless teeth aligned in a perfect face. Despite the brutal wear of this current fight, he’s still handsome. And that makes you sick. “I thought you said you’ve gotten stronger. If I wanted a real battle, I would’ve challenged one of my subordinates and that’s nowhere near as fun as this!”

Keeled over in the snow, your lungs burning with each rattled inhale, you struggle to meet his eyes. The deathly chill of the Snezhnayan climate claws at your exhausted form like the porcelain fingers of a skeleton. You might as well surrender to the freezing temperatures. After all, the frostbite is far kinder than the fighting machine looming over you, the toe of his boot nudging your trembling self. 

“I... I am strong,” you manage to say before the dangerous wind pierces your throat like a dagger. Like the icicle Childe’s wielding, a happily convenient reaction between Hydro and Cryo elements. You cough and crimson paints the snow. “Strong. I’m strong.”

“Then get up.” There isn’t any warmth in his tone. Cold like ice and devoid of his former playfulness. Under all of that nonchalance, a fierce, chiseled warrior lies in comfortable wait. When his eyes trace your hunched form and he spots the blood that dribbles past your lips, practically freezing as soon as it makes contact with the frigid air, those dull hues widen. Surely he’s hit a weak spot, a vital organ or something close to a fatal blow. He wonders for a brief moment if you’re afraid of death. “You’ll freeze if you don’t move.”

A flash catches your attention and then there is the flow of suffocating water. Sharpened blades of ice surround you on all sides, nearly scraping your arms, so you force yourself onto unsteady legs. Internally, you’re searching for a way out—for a way to give up before you bite off more than you can chew. This sparring match wasn’t your request, but you had been a fool to accept, having been so certain of your strength and wit. But you aren’t accustomed to Snezhnaya, whereas Childe has spent years of his life here: training, learning, and fighting until he was worthy of the Tsaritsa’s praise. 

With sloppy movements, you cut through the ice as if it’s butter, eternally grateful for the sharpness of your trusty sword. You can’t tell when this fight will end, but you hope an opening with present itself. As soon as it does, you’re running as far as your frozen legs will take you. Like a feral beast who fights desperately against the unfair hands of the Grim Reaper, you stumble forwards, slashing blindly at your target. He’s thoroughly amused with your struggle, having seen this sort of desperation many times before on the battlefield.

It’s a depressing thing, knowing you’ll be destined for failure and yet you still push onwards. As if that will turn the tide of this battle in your favor. Childe almost admires your persistence, but it isn’t all that special. He’s seen it all before but not quite in the way you portray it. Your despair is far more delectable than that of any low-ranking Fatui soldier. Childe could bask in this for eternity and he’d never grow bored. To have you by his side as his punching bag—it excites him just a little too much. 

Naturally, the more he spars with you, the more he’ll grow accustomed to your attack and defense patterns. A strategy is only worthwhile if it rakes in victory. No matter the cost. No matter how many fall and grovel, begging for their pitiful lives. In a way, his moral compass is rather skewed. He supposes that makes him a bad person, but he’s never been one for the hero role. 

Childe taps your shoulder and you whirl, slicing upwards with your sword. The blade cuts the air, not the torso of the man who jumps back with such deadly precision. The expression he’s wearing haunts you: a wicked smile, pupils blown wide with the thrill of life and death, and a blooming bruise from where you managed to hit him in your earlier scuffle. In any form, he looks good, be it blue and purple, red and pale, or even frozen stiff by the very ice that reacts to his Hydro abilities. You can’t stand your weak heart, as you’re well aware of the face he’ll bear tomorrow. Friendly and disarming, a total opposite to the grinning madman twirling water-turned-ice blades like they’re circus batons. 

Like always, you’ll return his kindness because you’re a fool. Because you like the soft, wholesome Childe that cares lovingly for his family—the side he’s displayed in rare instances that glimmer beyond the gilded portrait of a battle-hardened soldier. 

You fall hard on your back, landing in the thick snow with a wheeze. There is no warmth on the battlefield. Only pain, suffering, and the certainty of death. You push yourself to get up, but your muscles won’t move, too heavy and sore. You know you’re strong—you’ve faced many opponents before and you’ve lived to boast of your successes. You can beat Childe. You have to if you intend to avoid fights with him in the future. 

“Well, this is upsetting.” He’s frowning now, idly tapping the crystalized water while he circles you like a sharp-toothed predator. “Didn’t expect this to end so quickly.”

Liar. You already know I can’t beat you, you want to say, but the words escape you. Not yet, anyways.

A sneer splits your dry lips and blood trickles down your chin like a woeful river. You don’t need a mirror to witness the damage. 

“Teucer won’t like this,” you say, staring up at Childe with dead eyes, hoping to prod at his weak spots. If the mention of his brother affects him, Childe doesn’t let it show.

“He doesn’t have to know,” he retorts, brushing aside such a possibility with ease. 

Right. Because you expect me to put myself back together like a toy. Of course, almighty Childe, the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya. 

“Well.” You pause to exhale and pain shoots through your side. Through your bleary gaze, you can see a deep laceration. Blood stains what’s left of your attire, and you move your rigid hands over the wound to prevent anymore blood loss. “Congrats. You won.”

“You’re giving up?” Bewilderment flashes across his face for an instant before it melts away into an emotion you can’t place. Anger? Sadness? Is he unhappy with this win? 

“What does it look like? I can’t possibly fight with these injuries.” 

It hurts to speak and you wish he would just stop. If he could accept the outcome of this battle, this wouldn’t be such a problem. You’d be able to patch and heal yourself up before your condition gets any worse. With the chill seeping into your open cut, harshly kissing slick, wet blood, you doubt you’ll make it inside before passing out. Vaguely, you recall the unfamiliar stages of hypothermia. At worst, if you stay out in this fatal weather, pinned like an entomologist’s butterfly under Childe’s monstrous gaze, you’ll freeze to death. At best, you’ll escape, build a fire, and warm up to the best of your ability. Weighing your options, you’d rather lose a finger or a toe as opposed to your life. 

“You can fight.” His blade is at your throat, the pointed tip niggling into your jugular. It’s more of a threat than a warning, a means to spur you into action. “You’ll never get stronger if you’re always running away, comrade.”

Your life has some value; Childe just can’t see that. In his eyes, a fight should be seen through to the very end, even if it’s marred in death and destruction. Yet here you are, choosing to abandon your pride. That must have some strength in itself, right? You hate his face, his childish nature, and the fact that his everything is making you reconsider. You’re doomed to fail if you continue to push your frostbitten body past its natural limits. 

“I...” The blade slices along your throat, a mere surface wound. You can’t feel the sting or the sticky blood that spills out like flowing tears, having become as numb as a fish-eyed animal near extinction. “Childe—“

You don’t want to hurt him and he knows this. It twists his insides like a knife in flesh, turning and turning until organs pop and leak into soupy conflict. The blade leaves your throat and another harsh wind blows between the two of you, glacial and prickling. He distances himself, tracking your form in case you happen to move. You’ve stopped shivering at this point, lying flat on your back and staring up at the dark sky. Snowflakes cling to your lashes like the hands of death, pulling you closer to an invisible grave. 

“You can fight.” Is that desperation in his voice? You almost laugh at the idea. He’s not a desperate man; he doesn’t need to be when he has it all. “Get up, comrade.”

“I think...I’ll stay here,” you whisper, your heartbeat irregularly slow. You’ve never counted the beats before, but now it makes for a fun distraction. “Good job, Childe. You’ve definitely...”

Gotten stronger.

You possess strength, just not the type Childe wants to experience firsthand. He has no use for a lonely, unseeing corpse. And when your eyelids flutter, closing upon a face that reflects frozen death, he releases a sigh. His blade falls at once, landing in the snow with a thump, and he bends down to gather your fallen frame in his arms. Somehow, whenever he spars with you—whenever he’s within touching distance—he feels alive. As if you’ve breathed meaning into his frostbitten soul, warming the cold beast that lurks and pounces at the sight and smell of fresh bloodshed. 

If he’s learned anything, it’s that there’s always going to be room for improvement. You just need to train more, and he’d be over the moon to fight you until it’s your blade slicing through his skin. In the meantime, though, he’ll have to kiss color and life back into your monochrome world of death and despair. 

As the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya, it’s only fair if he repairs the damages done to his favorite toy. Break, repair, and repeat. A cycle befitting a messy relationship and an even messier slew of choices. Rinse and repeat, like waves licking up a carcass bound to the shore. 

Come morning, you’ll be shiny and new, ready to sit by his side for another leisurely ice-fishing outing. Childe isn’t known as the greatest toy salesman for nothing, and you’re just barely scraping by with each battle scar and bandage—courtesy of such an illustrious, experimental toy salesman. 

[bokugaos]

Delectable

length: 1.3k

pairing: bokuto x f!reader x akaashi

tags — pwp, dd/lg, oral (f.receiving), fingering

just want both koutarou and keiji ♡

bokuto’s lips are on yours, rough but sweet and gone before you can kiss him back. “alright, feather, it’s akaashi’s turn.”

you’re caught between them, pressed to a firm chest as your knees bracket akaashi’s wide shoulders.

bokuto smirks, but doesn’t say anything more as he settles you against his chest. you don’t realize you’re trembling until silky, slightly calloused hands smooth up your inner thighs. he chuckles next to your ear, “it’s okay, baby, we got you.”

akaashi dips his tongue inside you once, moaning, and he starts lapping softly at your clit before completely stopping. you arch up a little, because it’s good but it’s more of a tease than anything else, and bokuto chuckles in your ear. “just lie back and let him make you feel good.”

the sound of that makes a shiver go up your spine, and you feel a fresh gush of slick oozing out to smear across akaashi’s chin. he doesn’t seem to mind, if the way he’s drinking it down is any indication. you scrabble at bokuto, hoping that having something to hold onto will help you, but patience has never been your strong suit.

it’s why bokuto’s holding you down, his arms across your waist and collarbones, and akaashi’s elbows planted on your thighs. and even then you’re can’t stay still—rolling your hips up, wanting faster, harder, more—but you can only get what he’s giving you. the same soft licks of his skilled tongue that are nothing but torture, for all that it feels so good.

it’s not what you expect—you didn’t think he’d be torturing you, for one thing—but it’s sure as hell effective. it makes you desperate, and you’re practically bucking and squirming against his face if it weren’t for bokuto’s grip on you. as it is, you’re held in place as akaashi flicks the tip of his tongue over your inner folds, teasing but never quite slipping inside.

your voice is high-pitched and breathy when you whine, “need more..!”

he hums, and it’s an acknowledgement, but he doesn’t give you what you need. you just get more of the same gentle, rhythmic licking, so you change tack. 

“daddy?” you crane your neck to look up at bokuto for a second, and seeing the mischievous set of grin on his face nearly stops you from doing so, but still, you have to try. “i can’t... this—”

he plants a kiss on the skin behind your ear. “i know, baby girl,”  his voice drops to a whisper, “but you gotta be patient.”

you shake your head, minute trembling starting in your thighs from the strain of fighting their grip, fighting to grind against akaashi’s face. “you should let her come soon,” bokuto chuckles, “her heart’s beating like a little rabbit’s.”

it shouldn’t be hot, making remarks about what your body’s doing, being told that you’ll get to come, comparing you to prey.

akaashi does it again and again, tracing your inner lips until they’re tingling, completely ignoring your clit. it doesn’t take long before you’re embarrassingly wet and desperate, fighting bokuto’s hold as you twitch and jerk. “please, i need—”

you don’t have to finish that statement, because that’s the moment he chooses to sink two fingers deep inside you, crooking them to push against the patch of rough spot on your inner walls as he slurps at your clit. your orgasm starts to build, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t so much as give you a second to catch your breath as he sucks relentlessly, fingers pumping as he winds the tension in your body higher and higher.

“come on, little one. come on daddy’s tongue like a good girl.”

bokuto’s whispered words are so shocking, such a gut-punch of arousal that you come, broken little sounds falling from your mouth as your fingers grip akaashi’s hair. 

you’re grateful for bokuto’s hold on you after, slumping back against his chest as you pant, and akaashi waits a minute before sliding his fingers free. you’re dazed, and they’re kind enough to give you a few minutes to catch your breath, rolling you onto your side and sandwiching you between them. bokuto trails his fingertips up and down your arm. it makes you shiver, but it feels nice.

akaashi looks you in the eye as he puts his fingers in his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucks at your come.

“how does she taste?” bokuto’s voice is deep, husky, and it makes your cunt throb in anticipation.

akaashi hums, withdrawing his fingers from his mouth slowly. “delectable.”

he dips his head down, swooping down for a kiss, intent on letting you taste yourself in his mouth. it’s stupidly hot, and your heart maybe gives a little pitter-pat.

he pulls away and you almost pout, your brain is too hazy to gather yourself together and reach for him, to pull him back for another kiss. 

but he’s already kissing his way down your belly, moving dangerously close to your pussy once again. you wish you had the energy to push him away and instead, bokuto rolls you over, moving you into position.

oh god. you’re gonna die. death by tongue. death by akaashi’s tongue, no less, so it’ll be slow.

you’re even more squirmy when he starts mouthing at you again, twisting into and away from the sensation by turns. it’s too much when you’re this sensitive, just endless, pleasant torment.

the hot slide of his tongue inside you just makes it worse, makes your need to come that much more pressing, without providing the slightest bit of relief. you mewl, and akaashi makes a hungry sound before he does it again and again, thrusting his tongue as deep as it’ll go. you’re nearly crying, shamelessly grinding against his face without any of their hands to keep you still.

it’s good, so so good, you don't think you’ve ever been this wet and you’re kinda worried that you’ll drown him, but it’s not what you need. you don’t know what it is, exactly, but it’s more than this. “more?”

akaashi responds by sealing his lips around your clit and massaging with his tongue, and you have to bite back a yelp. you’re getting closer, the attention where you need it now, but something’s still missing. your head’s lolling on bokuto’s shoulder as you pant, hoping for a push over the proverbial edge.

when bokuto’s hands cup your breasts, you wonder if that’ll be what does it. but rather than squeeze them or play with your nipples, he just holds you. and it’s nice, but nice is not what you want right now.

your hands twine in akaashi’s hair, and you strain, trying to push yourself over, but can’t. you need to come, need to, it’s pounding in your head and making sweat bead on your hairline and—

in a flash, bokuto tugs you away from akaashi, sideways across the bed so he can lean over you. you can’t hold back a shout when he shoves his fingers inside you, fucking you with them harshly as he starts flicking his tongue across your clit, his other hand splayed over your belly.

it’s so different from what akaashi was doing, fast and hard and all you can do is take it, take him, and the orgasm you’ve been chasing slams into you.

you come shaking, his name on your lips, arching and spasming, heat flooding your body and endorphins flooding your brain.

akaashi grits his teeth, looking down at the almost painful curve of your back, offering up your cunt, reddened and pouty, clenching and spasming around bokuto’s long, thick fingers. you’re still screaming even after bokuto jerks his hand back out.

you’re wailing, your hips lifting even higher, and they’re both too entranced by the way your lower body is shaking uncontrollably, hips stuttering like it has a life of its own, pussy clenching around nothing as it keeps gushing clear stream out all over bokuto’s chest.

[n-miri]

More Tommy-Purpled friendship content!! CW for: brief mentions of corpses and death (via being struck by lightning) 

Word count: 1610

On rainy days, Purpled polishes his sword. It’s a good weapon: netherite, with Sharpening V, Unbreaking III— the usual overpowered enchantments. He isn’t complaining though; the stronger he is, the better. He goes through a collection of blades, from the one he knows best to the oldest one he owns, on the verge of being grinded into dust. Wipe, sharpen, steer clear of rust. Keep the blade clean and dry. It’s easy to get lost in the repetitive motions. 

Dogchamp lies by his side, close to the fire, hind leg poking at his thigh through the soft material. Their ears perk up, and their tail begins to wag. Back, forth, thumping on the floorboards. 

A door slams open, followed by a myriad of curses. It’s the usual rainy day, after all. 

“Don’t let my floor get wet,” Purpled says immediately. His voice rebounds within the house, a meagre two rooms decorated with torches. A temporary base, if you will. One that he’s planning to blow up soon. 

His UFO was… 

It just isn’t the same. 

“Fuck you,” the trespasser immediately responds. The house is unbearably empty despite its miniscule nature. “I’ll do whatever I want.” 

A beat. He probably found the towel Purpled placed on the counter earlier, specifically for this scenario. Footsteps, sharp against the falling of rain—white hair peeks out from the door. Tommy sneers at the other derisively, before crossing the room in five long steps and dropping down on Purpled’s other side. 

This has become a ritual of sorts, with the two blondes (or, in Tommy’s case, ex-blonde) seeking refuge from bad days. Sometimes it’s sunny out, or the middle of the night; most of the time, it’s raining. 

The day they met, it was raining too. Wide eyes meet each other in the solace of darkness. The past is unforgivingly cruel, and whispers mockeries into their ears. Tommy looked so small, in the Church Prime’s pew; Purpled was sure he looked equally as haggard, hand clenched around the hilt of his sword. 

So, Purpled invited Tommy to his base. It’s warm despite being unfamiliar, and Dogchamp is amicable towards traumatised teenagers who need way more therapy than life is willing to give. They talked a bit about the stupidity of other members. Rarely, there was a glimpse into their lives, what they missed and have lost. Neither of them actively asked and, in a sense, it was comforting. 

Then it happens again. And again. Tommy pulls out his sewing kit on the third visit and demands to patch up his hoodie. Purpled teaches Tommy how to shear sheep, wool coming off in lines of blue. Just like this, they help each other. There’s too much left unspoken and no expectations to be had. There is no debt to be repaid, or a favour to be granted, or a profitable exchange. 

It’s just that. It’s just them, crossing each other’s path sometimes. Seeing how the other has changed from their previous meeting. 

“It’s stupid,” Tommy says suddenly. His shrill voice pierces through the haze of thoughts. Pale eyes flicker around the room, with shadows from corners pulling faces. “This is what you do in your spare time? Fight, prepare to fight, fight some more?” He scoffs, not even sparing Purpled a glance. “Idiot.” 

Much to the mercenary’s bemusement, Tommy proceeds to pull a cake out of his inventory. As in, a full-blown, home-baked dessert. 

“.... Huh?” 

An embarrassed scowl creeps onto his face. “Don’t be like that.” He drops the plate loudly onto the space between the two. “It’s edible, if that’s what you were wondering. I know how to cook shit. Niki…” Tommy’s eyes grow distant, fingers twitching, as if moving to punch the treat into oblivion. “She used to bake. A lot. Back in- y’know, back in L’manberg. I learned a bit from her,” he finishes lamely. All the bravado has left him. 

“That’s cool, dude,” Purpled replies. “It looks good.” 

“Wh- of course it does! I’m poggers at everything I do. That’s why the women love me.” Carefully, the boy flicks strands of white hair away from his eyes. “I’m astonishingly charming.” 

There was a time where Tommy’s hair imitated the sunlight, gold and yellow and bursting with happiness. He smiled more. Laughed more, too. Was more brash and insolent; was so willing to see the good in everyone he met. 

Now his hair is completely white. His dull eyes flicker around the room and his hands are always, always trembling. Tommy is different from who he was before. 

The Tommy and Purpled of before would never have become friends. 

“Hold up, let me cut it.” Saying that, the mercenary raises his newly polished sword. Tommy sputters, holding a hand out to stop him. 

“Why can’t you use a knife like a normal person!” 

Purpled shrugs. “Technically, a sword is a very big knife. It’s… stabby and shit.” 

Exasperated, Tommy gets up from his spot in a tangle of long limbs and half-hearted glares. “I’m going to slice this cake like a normal person. It deserves to be treated with respect.” 

“We’re going to eat it anyway,” Purpled points out. 

The other sniffs indignantly, turning heel to find cutleries. Dogchamp lifts their head in his direction, turning to Purpled, then back again. Slowly, the wolf raises from their sitting position and trots out of the room. Traitor. 

From the closed window, lightning streaks through the sky, followed closely by a clap of thunder. It’s loud, Purpled winces. He had expected it but- the sound still makes him jumpy. Rainy days in general are terrible. 

The patter of rain against the dirt and harsh concrete pulls out a vivid scene from his memory. Soldiers, rising out of graves, burdened by shiftless armour, heaving up weapons twice their arm span. Thunder imitates piercing shrieks, the blast of an explosion. Raindrops sound like corpses hitting the ground. 

Everytime it rains, he recalls that scene with bitter reminiscence; greets it like an old friend who came back to haunt him as an afterthought. It’s not the best way to spend his day. 

“You know,” Tommy says, having entered the room when he wasn’t aware, “I got struck by lightning once.” 

Distantly, Purpled thinks of raindrops rolling through hair and a shock so bright it electrifies the body. The event he construes in his mind, like always, paints his own death in a morbid way. He wonders if he died, would anyone come visit him? Would there even be a grave? 

“That sucks,” the blonde replies. 

Tommy gives a non-committal hum, shifting the objects in his arms. In one hand the boy carries a kitchen knife and in the other, a blanket. It’s the one with a UFO print on it—too childish for the purple boy’s tastes, yet too precious to be thrown away. 

Once again, the two -three, counting Dogchamp- are back in their original positions. The blanket is draped over Purpled’s lap and he watches, warily, as Tommy’s shaking hands raise the knife. At this point, Purpled would have offered to do it. He nearly does, too, but- 

Ten minutes have passed. Eyebrows scrunched, a bead of sweat against his forehead, Tommy tries to steady his grip and cut the cake in equal slices. It doesn’t work. It’s uneven at best, falling apart at worst, but- 

None of that matters. He did it. 

A ‘good job’ or ‘gg’ sticks on Purpled’s tongue, sincere yet worried of coming off as patronising. Instead, he gives a silent thumbs-up and hopes that conveys all the things he wishes he could say. 

Tommy grins. “Eat up before it gets cold, purple boy.” Neither of them mention that it’s definitely not warm anymore, with how long it’s been and how cold the weather is. Obediently, the teenager picks up the tiniest chunk of cake and pops it into his mouth. 

Sweet is the first thing that touches his tongue. Honestly, it shouldn’t come as a surprise— Tommy started over-seasoning his food after the prison visit, the same time he came back with a head full of white hair. That, paired with the fact Awesamdude said he had died, creates a sinking feeling in Purpled’s guts. It doesn’t take an idiot to connect the dots. 

“Yummy,” he comments. “Delicious. Uhh, what other synonyms are there? Delectable, tasteful-” A choking laugh cuts him off, too loud and too worryingly breathless all at once. “I’ll give this a… hm. Maybe an eight out of ten.” 

“I should have gotten full marks,” Tommy says sarcastically. “Glad you like it, though.” Underneath the amusement is the barest form of sincerity, and that’s enough for the both of them. 

“Uh-huh! I do.” 

Once the rain lets up, the two will part again. Purpled will wash sugar off his fingers, keep the polishing kit in a chest and carry on with his life. That’s how this has always been. 

But for now, light from the fireplace casts a glow across their faces, painting a sunset upon Tommy’s self. It’s reminiscent of older days, better days; ones that have long since passed. They’ll never get any of it back—family, homes, the people they once were. All they can do is yearn for what has been lost and move on. 

So for now, Purpled stops focusing on the what-ifs and could-have-beens. For now, he relishes in the warmth in his sides as he laughs himself silly. Dogchamp dozes off contentedly. A blanket is shared, covering his and Tommy’s laps, barely offering heat. The half-eaten cake lies between them and his friend is threatening to smash it into his face. 

Outside, rain drums against the earth. Neither of them pay it mind. 

[fairydollsteps]

Hey

Can I request Zenitsu with a female demon reader who lost her husband because of demons and was turned into a demon too and Zenitsu reminds her of her husband when they first meet so she just starts to cry and hug, cling to him? c:

Hello! I find your request interesting and I would love to write it down! :D I do hope you don’t mind if I describe the reader's relationship with Zenitsu is platonic instead just see Zenitsu like a family member as the reader would be a lot older than him, like an adult and also there will be some changes here and there but is related to your request. I do hope what I wrote is what you wanted! There will be a short scenarios about the reader past and some headcanon along with it too. Enjoy reading! 💖

Zenitsu with a Sisterlike Demon Friend

The happiness that you thought would last forever with your dear husband was shattered into countless pieces

It all happens during the night where you and your husband were eating dinner together. The food served was delectable that you enjoy it so much. Just like how the demon enjoying itself devouring your husband after it has crashed into your home.

Just right before you were attacked by the vicious demon, your husband covers you and fights back. Even so, the demon has left you a severe wound that has its blood in it which you will suffer later on.

You were watching your husband fighting the demon back, watches his neck get bitten in the process while you try to stop your bleeding. He screamed at you to run and never come back, you can hear the anguish and pain in his voice.

You did what you were told by your husband out of fear and distress as you can’t handle another second to see the sight of your beloved getting killed. You head out of your house and run away, never looking back. You run as fast as you can, not noticing your blood dripping down from your wound, leaving a trail of blood behind you as you run.

You are turning into a demon as you kept running. It hurts physically but you ignored it and keep running but it worse as you can feel a sharp piercing pain from you wound. You collapsed down and started vomiting blood on the ground violently. Blood is also shedding from your eyes and you can feel your whole entire body tormented from this excruciating pain.

You are turning into a demon.

Now that all conclude the reader’s past, let dive into the headcanons part(cause I am lazy to put in so much effort in continuing this.)

You thought you are going to die at this point, what you didn’t know that the blood trail behind that you bled before has kill some demons with its lethal scent that was about to prey on you.

Little did you know, a young lady with butterfly hairpin both side, wearing a black uniform was watching the whole thing unfold. Watching you vomiting blood on the ground violently then collapsed unconscious.

The next thing you saw after you regain your conscious is where you in a cell. You also saw a bunch of people in different height and build. You also saw the young lady earlier right before you collapsed.

You expect yourself to be petrified because the people are glaring deep in to your soul but you felt nothing. Numb will be the right word for how you are feeling now when suddenly the lady you saw before walk up to you.

“Hello, I am Kanae Kocho. Please stay calm, we are not going to do anything with you. We just wanted to have a talk with you,” she said as she smile sweetly.

That’s when a man with a black shoulder length comes in. Kagaya Ubuyashiki.It’s his name you heard as he was introduced by his children.

He talks to you gently while you are in a cage with a soft smile. He asks you what had happened to you and you explains everything, the tragic events that you have to go through to him.

Of course, the people you saw earlier who were introduced as the Hashira, were suspicious about what you said but also shocked that you have saved many slayers from their corps.

Apparently, what they meant is that your Blood Demon Art has saved countless of lives from the corps where they were investigating the area you were in to hunt down demons.

None has died, only some suffer minor injuries. 

Of course, there is some arguments here and there whether they should keep you as their most powerful weapon to hunt demons down or to just slay your head off for good.

It was then decided that the Demon Slayer Corps should keep you after Kanae express her opinion and concern that many casualties would happen if it wasn’t for your power and that you have no intention of killing humans.

Once all has been concluded, you were left to be alive instead getting your head cut off but you would many restrictions. You were later send to Tamayo and Yushiro to stay with them.

You started your lives with them. Tamayo welcomed you in warmly while Yushiro is just glaring at you which he soon get scolded by Tamayo.

Your Life as a demon

Let’s just say that, your husband’s death has put a huge impact on you deeply. You become cold and emotionless. The only person who you can trust for now is Tamayo as she also go through the same thing and also has similar demon technique.

You help her with creating medicine and stuff and soon become a doctor just like her.

Yushiro would later on have respect with you for how you work hard for Tamayo. 

You don’t show it, you are disgusted of yourself for become a same species with the monster that has murdered your dear husband. You would left yourself a scar or cut on your face every time you see yourself in the mirror, just watching the blood drip down and hating yourself.

 You don’t care about the injuries you had put on yourself cause it will regenerate itself anyway because you are a demon. You bottle and repress your feelings because you are demon and nobody care if you cry cause you are hated for what you have become. Even you never choose to become what you have become.

You are afraid of the thought of how your husband would think about because you have become a demon.

Because you are a demon.

You keep thinking about this often, degrading yourself while keeping a stern and empty face. Showing absolutely no emotions and weakness.

The only reason why you are still alive is because Tamayo was there to comfort you when you are feeling down although you never show it.

One day, you were the strolling around the street during the night. You just want to relax a bit from your mind. The street was dark and quiet. After all, you were out late in the night.

Until the silence was interrupted by a scream from a far distance. You follow it as it sounds like someone is in trouble and hopeless.

You saw a demon on your way, hobbling towards to you. You don’t care about it an annihilate it immediately using your blood demon technique.

That’s when the scream stops, you turn around and saw a blonde boy on top a tree, clinging tightly on one of its branches.

“IS IT DEAD ALREADY!?!?!??! IS IT!??! IS IT!!!! THAT THING WAS HELLA SCARY THAT I JUST RUN!!!!!! the boy screamed.

You walk to towards to the tree and reach out your hand to him.

“No worries, is gone now. Please come down. You might fall,” you said in a reserved turn.

“A-a-are you sure!!??!?!? Y-y-you s-should you k-k-killed it??? he said obviously not believing a word you say until he realized something. You are a demon.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! YOU JUST KILL IT WITH WHAT SEEMS LIKE A BLOOD DEMON ART!!! YOU ARE A DEMON!!!!?!?!? WHY THE HELL DID YOU SAVE ME!??!?! he yelled again after realisation hits him like a boulder.

That’s when you saw a clear image of the boy. He looks just like him. Your husband . You froze for a while and the way the boy knowing you are a demon reminds you all the past. The past that you wished to cover forever comes back.

Your knee drop and then you starts sobbing. All your hate and disgust on yourself is coming back at the same time and its too much for you to handle them anymore. You continue think how your late husband thinks of you. A monster? A strange creature? Not the person that he used to love?

You started to cry when the boy talks to you. “U-um...hey, I am s-sorry for w-what I mentioned earlier,” There is some fear in his voice but there is also some gratitude and sincerity in it. “E-even if you are a d-demon, you did s-save my life after all,”.

He still though keep his distance with you. You noticed a wound on his hand and some on the side of his forehead. You offer the boy to treat your wounds as it do looks pretty severe.

He was reluctant for a while until give in. You still keep your distance with him while tending him, as you do not wanted to scared him like before. Mainly because it makes you think that’s how your husband feel to you because the boy looks so much like your husband except the boy is blonde.

“What’s your name?” you ask. “U-um is Zenitsu A-agatsuma. You can call me Z-Zenitsu,” he answered. “I’m (Y/n) (L/N),”.

Once you finished tending him, you explain yourself a bit that you are working for Demon Slayer Corps along with Tamayo and Yushiro. Zenitsu soon trusted you a little after knowing that you are a no threat.

Just as he was about, you quickly propose to walk back with him as you are worry for his safety to go back.

You both begin to talk and knowing about each other as you both walk. You and Zenitsu enjoy together chatting and Zenitsu is smiling because he can finally talk to a women without making himself a complete fool and making himself look weird. You begin to smile and feel happy for the first time and forever after what you have gone through.

Your Relationship with Him

Once Zenitsu is comfortable with you, your relationship with him is quite similar with Tanjiro, Nezuko and Tamayo. Like Zenitsu helps you finally feel happy and makes you smile just like how Tanjiro and Nezuko makes Tamayo feel the loving feelings of a family.

You are pretty older than Zenitsu so Zenitsu calls you (L/N)-san as a sign of respect for you and you really appreciate it.

You begin visiting the Butterfly Estate during after for a long time just to see how Zenitsu is doing. Shinobu, of course was aware and distrustful with you but warm up a little after knowing that you just wanted to know how Zenitsu is doing after coming back from a mission. Shinobu started to welcome you when you come to visit and started to respect you after you are willingly to share some of your knowledge with poison and medicine with her. she stills don’t trust you but still has some respect and kindness for you.

Zenitsu would introduce you to his friends,Tanjiro and Inosuke. You heard a lot about them from Zenitsu during your conversation with him. Tanjiro would a little bit flustered because of how gorgeous you are and a little scared because you look so stern and cold but soon warm up to you after you treat him with kindness and respect. Inosuke would also like you after you give him some rice balls and shrimp that he becomes so touched that he was stucked for a while because of how generous you are and thinks you are some goddes or something.

Zenitsu would of course be pissed if these two were to hog your attention too much that he feels left out. You would of course meet Nezuko as both you and Nezuko suffered from the same tragedies.

Zenitsu won’t feel any romantic feelings for you because you are a lot older than him so instead, he sees you as like and elder sister and a role model.

You would act like a role model to Zenitsu. Always teaching him how to behave and collect himself when he lost his composure. Also giving him advice  and so on. Zenitsu respect you deeply ever since then.

You would also act like a protective elder sister to Zenitsu. and zenitsu loves it. You would always check on him when he come back from a mission, making sure he is eating well, always making medicine for him when he is hurt and so on. You would sometimes offer to tag along a mission with Zenitsu so you can protect him and make sure he is alive. You did all of this for him because you do not want Zenitsu to suffer the same fate as your husband.

Speaking of your husband death, you have once mentioned your tragic past to Zenitsu and explained that he looks so much like your husband which explained why you are so protective and caring towards him. You also mention your hate and disgust on yourself for what you have become.

Then Zenitsu immediately freaks out after recalling your first meeting with hima and he apologies to you profusely. After feeling absolutely guilt for making you cry because of his overexaggerating reaction.

You reassure him that’s alright and is just that he didn’t know. He do still feels guilt though but you would give your sincere reassurance to him.

After you have talk about your past, he wanted to become stronger and more braver so you do not have to worry about him.

Zenitsu would come in a speed of lightning when he knows that you are upset on yourself and would try to comfort you. You really appreciate his effort in cheering you up.

You would also try to help Zenitsu in his training like explaining parts that he can improve and motivate him to continue fighting and training.

Because you are a demon and can’t walk under the sun, you and Zenitsu would hang out at the street markets or go shopping during the night. These memories you created with him are memorable and precious.

You were glad that you save Zenitsu from before as he has helps you heal the scar that was caused from your husband’s death.

All you wished for Zenitsu is for him alive and living happily.

Words: 2,340.....AAHAVIYQWVCKQW!!!! I am sorry that I got carried away for writing so much! I just have so many idea for this and would hate it so much to throw it away!!! This tooks me so long so likes and reblog would be deeply appreciated .Anyway, thank you for reading and have a good day!

[glenncoco4]

War Zone

A/N: Chapter 6. Some M.

••••

Present

If her eyes weren’t already closed they’d be rolling back in her head right now as his finger tips dig into her scalp, making her sink into the tub even further. Dear god she knew his hands were magic but this is euphoric. 

“How you doing, baby?”

She feels his breath hot against her ear, if she wasn’t so miserable, and over 39 weeks pregnant, they’d definitely be using this tub for other purposes. “Why won’t she just come out already?”

The whine in her voice makes his heart sink a little. These last few days have been hell for her and he so wishes he could, but he can’t take her pain away. This warm bath was the only thing he could think of to help her relax at least a little bit, but that doesn’t seem to be working either. Helpless isn’t even the right word for what he’s feeling right now. “I think its because you made such a nice home for her over the past 9 months that she just doesn’t want to leave.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’ll come when she’s ready.” He huffs a laugh before getting up from the stool and leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “In the mean time…” 

Her brow furrows at the sound of his retreating footsteps. Lifting her head up from the tub, she opens her eyes and is suddenly alone. “So you’re just gonna leave me here?” Getting no answer, she rolls her eyes. “If this is your idea of a sick joke, I’m-“

As he steps back in the room, Marty’s unable to keep the smile from his face seeing her mouth open in shock. Closing the distance, he pulls the stool to the side of the tub, sitting down with a tower of her favorite treat, 13 to be exact. He sits the tray on the counter and then takes one of the yellow snack cakes, unwrapping it as her hungry gaze watches his movements. 

Her eyes meet his as he extends the Twinkie towards her mouth, offering her a bite. If she weren’t already head over hills in love with him before, she most certainly is now. Yeah, being in this kinda pain sucks, but knowing he’s doing everything he can to make her feel better is one of the best feelings in the world. Leaning forward, she takes a bite, moaning in pleasure. “Mmmm, I love you.”

 “What a difference 13 years make, huh?”

“I remember being less fat before I met you.”

“You’re not fat, baby.”

“I look like a beached whale.”

“A very beautiful beached whale.”

Her bottom lip begins to quiver at his words as she lays a comforting hand across her protruding belly. “Did you just call me fat?”

His eyes go wide in panic, realizing just how wrong the sentence that left his mouth sounded. “No, I mean…you just-“

••••

May 12th, 2009

Her body shakes with anticipation as she makes her way down the jet bridge. It’s been 4 months, 4 long and treacherous months since she’s seen him…well in person that is. When he got his assignment to Egypt right after he finished following her team they were both devastated. It’s part of their jobs of course, they spent most of their dating life apart but there’s something about being married that makes it even more agonizing. Especially since the longest they’ve been together since tying the knot is 3 weeks.

As her Navy issued boots hit the terminal floor the chatter of the people around her and the announcer over the intercom fade, her mismatched orbs immediately scan the room. His flight was due to land an hour before hers and he was going to meet her at her gate. 

She’s briefly pulled out of her search at the sudden feel of tugging of her camouflaged dry fit. Looking down, the SEAL’s eyes meet beautifully innocent chocolate orbs, standing there with a shy smile on his face.

Sitting her bag down, Kensi crouches down, now eye level with the young boy. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

She looks down at the small stuffed animal in his hand and then back up at him. “I like your puppy.”

His response catches her a little off guard as his tiny arms wrap around her neck in a tight hug and the words that leave his lips turn her into a big pile of goo. “Thank you for protecting us.”

“Oh, you’re very welcome.”

“Is this where we get in line for the hugs?”

Her eyes go wide at the all too familiar voice. The the voice that up until now has been thousands of miles away from her. Pulling back from the little boy, she quickly spins around, jumping up and throwing her arms around his neck for the death gripping hug. 

The blonde smiles as his arms find their way around her waist, picking her up in excitement. To say he missed her would be an understatement. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi.” She pulls back a bit, her lips immediately finding his. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you more.” He goes to move the hair out of her face but catches himself when the plaster on his hand touches her.

Her brow furrows as he sits her down, now noticing the obstruction on his left arm. “What happened?”

“Oh, I was fighting some Transformers, you know the usual.”

She smiles shaking her head before bringing her lips to his once more. God she missed his sense of humor. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

She pulls back from their embrace, grabbing her bag and saying a quick goodbye to the little boy before they start heading towards the exit. As they make their way through the terminal, the SEAL wraps her arms around her husband’s uninjured one, hugging it to her body. “So what really happened there?”

“I was playing soccer with some local kids. Kens, we gotta go to Egypt one day. I mean it’s hot as hell but so beautiful.”

“I like that idea. Maybe for our honeymoon that we’ll get to go on one day?” Her mind drifts to a small quaint resort, and her shirtless husband feeding her grapes as they relax beach side in Attaka.“Speaking of monumental moments, do you realize what today is?”

As they step out into ground transportation area, he finds a lone pillar and leans up against it, pulling her body into his. “Of course I do, Nutty Fudge Day!”

Tilting her head back, her mismatched orbs meet his as she bites her lip, trying to keep the smile from spreading to her face. “I’ll show you Nutty Fudge Day.”

“Baby, not in front of the children.” His eyes go wide as they dart over to the two little kids watching them a few feet away.

This time she can’t stop the laughter from leaving her lips before placing a kiss to his once again.

He deepens the kiss, wishing so much that they were already in their hotel room. The sound of little giggling voices forces him to pull back, shaking his head, the photojournalist takes in his wife’s beautiful features. All the things they had plan to go out to do while they’re in the Big Apple are sounding more and more like a drag when he could very well have her all to himself in their luxurious hotel suite. The look in her eyes tell him she may be thinking the same thing, but he tiptoes around the subject just in case. “So, what do you want to do today?”

“I may have a surprise for you.” And oh, does she have a surprise for him.

••••

Present

She takes another bite when her eyes suddenly go wide at the sudden burst of warmth that fills the cooling water around her. The moan that escapes deep from within her throat can’t be helped as a new feeling shoots through her body. 

“Woah, maybe I should just hop in there with you.” He smiles thinking that the noise was caused by her treat.

“How do you feel about delivering babies?”

“I’ve never done one myself but-“ His eyes quickly find the panic shining in her eyes, making his entire being freeze. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Um, my water may have just broke.”

••••

May 12th, 2009

Humming with excitement, he walks into their hotel room, bucket in hand. “Baby, I got the ice, now I’m ready to rock your-“ He stops in his tracks at the sight before him.

“Hi.” She smiles, her mismatched orbs darken with desire as she looks him up and down seductively, biting her bottom lip.

“H-hiii.” He gulps, his cerulean blues roam her body, every bare inch glowing in the soft light coming from the lamp in the corner. Then his eyes reach the lace…the oh so delicate cornflower blue lace that barely covers her beautiful breast and delectable pussy. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?”

“No, just waiting to wake up.”

“What?”

“I’m still in the hot Egyptian desert and just hallucinating. Yep, any moment now and that lamp over there is gonna turn into a camel.”

A grin spreads to her lips as she gets up from her strategic positioning and walks on her knees to the end of the bed. She reaches for his hand and pulls him towards her. Placing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, his eyes darken as her fingers work their way down to the hem of his pants and slip into his boxers. Her delicate fingers wrap around his already hardened cock, earning a moan of pleasure, one she hasn’t heard in too long. “You’re very much awake, baby.” 

“Thank god.” His lips find hers in a desperate kiss as she pulls him towards her and onto the bed.

A little while later as they both lay sated and out of breath, his head pillowed on her chest as her fingers work their way hrough his golden locks.“Why do you have so many knots in your hair?”

“Well, I’m a little disabled at the moment,” He lifts his casted hand and arm in the air for emphasis, “so I can’t really run my fingers through my hair in the shower like I usually do.”

“Ya, know…” Her fingers find his scalp and dig in a little, earning a moan of pleasure from him.

“Oh, god, that feels amazing.”

“I have two free hands and there’s an empty tub just a few feet away that can massage other things.”

His lips find her breast as his fingers delicately walk down her abdomen to find her already sopping wet pussy.“Well, it just so happens that I have a free mouth that can also massage things.”

••••

Present

She lets out one last groan as the little girl is fully free. Her tiny cries filling the air as Marty quickly cuts the umbilical cord before wrapping her in a towel and handing her over to his wife. 

“You did it, baby.” He comes up beside her, his arm going around her shoulders as he pulls her into him. Yeah, moving to the bed was a good idea. Placing a kiss to the top of her head, he smiles as he gets a glimpse of his two girls…his whole world right in his arms. “I love you so much.”

She tilts her head back, eyes locking with his as he places a kiss to her lips. “I love you.” 

The tears that begin to form in her eyes, he can feel pooling in his own. “No, no, don’t cry. Cuz if you cry then I’m gonna cry.”

“She’s just so beautiful.”

“Exactly like her mama.”

“You think so? I thought she looked like you.”

“Well, I guess that’s good considering we’re her parents.” His lip curls into a smile.

Shaking her head, she gives him another kiss before her head finds his shoulder once again. “Touché.”

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 3-5: 海水与火焰 Seawater & Flames Translation

"It is only this sort of unbridled, unbound, soul-freeing freedom that suits me.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Following Osborn down the auditorium, we entered the team's resting area.

Tall glass display cabinets lined the wall, and displayed within were trophies that the race team won and photos of victory. They were all arranged by year. The spotlight shone downwards, making those glorious awards through the years appear even more dazzling. It made strolling down the stretch of display cabinets feel like stepping into an illusion of the past.

A familiar photo caught my attention: Osborn was standing on the podium, his helmet sandwiched between his arm and his side.

MC: This is the picture that An'an showed me back then…

I couldn't help but stand on tippy-toes to get a better look at it.

Osborn: The real deal's right beside you, why are you getting all besotted by a photo?

Although that's what he said, he still opened the glass door of the cabinet and took the photo down for me.

MC: When was this taken?

Osborn: When I first won the R1 championship.

He looked pretty young and inexperienced in the photo, with his head raised and an intent stare at the camera. It was almost as if he was gazing into the distance, at the era that would eventually belong to him.

MC: Osborn? What made you want to become a racer?

Osborn's eyes swept past the glass cabinet before falling back on me.

Osborn: Why do you want to be a fashion designer? My answer's the same as yours.

MC: Same as me? For passion?

Osborn: Every aspect of life requires me to endure and think things through; racing is the only thing that allows me to proceed onwards.

The same sharp glint in the picture that had been in his younger self's eyes was back in full force.

I couldn't help but snap an immediate shot of that.

Osborn: Come on then, let's head outside.

We headed out of the rest area and came to the first row of the auditorium. Coincidentally, another mock race was currently in progress.

❖☆———————————★❖

I didn't quite feel it back when I was still viewing from a distance, but now, standing here, I finally experienced what lightning speed truly felt like.

The wind rushed at us, vehemently blowing against our coats, making it flutter violently in the wind. My hair flew every this way and that from violent gusts, and I suddenly got the illusion that even all my troubles could be blown away...

The scene before me had already long since blurred away. I closed my eyes, embracing the world with my senses. At that moment, I heard the forceful thumping of my heart and the rushing of blood in my veins.

I couldn’t help but stretch out my arms, feeling like I was a bird who’d just escaped from the confines of its cage, or like a Père David's deer who’d broken free of its reins, bounding through the snow. The sheer joy of moving forwards without looking back at all was a marvellous one.

MC: I think I now understand what you were talking about earlier.

The look in his eyes suddenly grew more profound, with the vast blue sky reflected within his orbs.

Osborn: It is only this sort of unbridled, unbound, soul-freeing freedom that suits me.

MC: Freedom...

That’s right. I’d also ran back here from all the way abroad in search of freedom. This was the life I chose of my own accord.

I suddenly recalled the look of yearning that had been on Lin Yao’s face the other day when she mentioned the word “freedom” when she saw the race.

Somewhere in my heart was a little crevice that had been moved by that. Looking at the light reflecting off the race team’s logo, I was suddenly hit by a flash of inspiration.

MC: Osborn! I think I can make a collection of outfits with racing as the main theme!

MC: Representing danger and boundaries, there's a nearly crazed kind of romance in the freedom it brings!

MC: And at the same time, it also represents one moving courageously forwards, pushing through until the very end!

MC: If you're alright with it, I want to go to the rest area for another—

Suddenly, I realized that I'd been going off on my own tangent and had literally info-dumped him with my thoughts. I hurriedly zipped my mouth shut, offering him an apologetic smile.

MC: Sorry. I want to go to the rest area to snap a couple more shots as reference material. Can I?

Osborn nodded with a smile.

Osborn: No problemo.

❖☆———————————★❖

It was already near noon by the time I finished taking all the photos I needed. My original plan was to head home, but Osborn said that he too, had something else on, so he had to leave and could spare me a ride back, asking me to wait for him.

Walking up to the entrance, I suddenly saw a thinly built man standing at a distance not too far away. He wore a hat, and his silhouette was a tad familiar.

MC: I feel like I've seen him somewhere before…

Just as I squinted in an attempt to better make out the identity of the person, a sound suddenly sounded from the grass by my feet.

??: Meow!

MC: !

I took a step back, only to see a small white cat looking up at me with its big round eyes. It immediately started circling my legs the moment I lowered my head, turning my attention to it.

MC: So it was you, little one. You nearly scared me half to death!

I knelt down, picking up a green foxtail to poke fun at it. The cat happily stood up, waving its two small forepaws in the air as it batted at it. Much to my astonishment, I found that it had deep gashes on its paws; and they were still bleeding.

Then, in the next moment, it let out a yowl, nabbing my finger and biting down before it quickly fled into the grass with lightning speed.

MC: Ah!

Small drops of blood beaded from the wound on my fingertips. I quickly took a tissue from my bag and pressed it against the wound to stop the bleeding.

MC: I'm glad I got that tetanus shot back then…

My heart gave a few uncomfortable lurches. I didn’t understand why the cat had suddenly gone all feral. Then, the sound of heavy and ragged breathing suddenly sounded in the direction that the cat had fled!

A shadow fell upon me, shrouding me within its shadowy cloak as a pair of feet, belonging to a man, entered my field of vision.

MC: !!

I raised my head. It was the man I was scrutinizing earlier! He looked very haggard, with messy hair covering his face and features.

I suddenly realized where I’d seen him beforeー He was the bodyguard who’d walked out of Lin Yao’s dressing room back at the studio the other day and bumped into the set! What’s he doing here?

An inexplicable sense of panic reared its ugly head. I turned around with the intent of fleeing, but the man swiftly reached out and lunged at me!

MC: Hel—

❖☆———————————★❖

My cry for help never left my throat, for he’d already constricted my airway. I struggled vehemently against him, but to no avail. My vision started growing blurry.

The man leaned greedily into my neck as if it was some sort of delectable delicacy.

Man: Finally… Finally, I can live…

In a flash, I suddenly recalled the “vampire attack” incidents that An’an had previously told me about!

My heart suddenly froze in my chest as the chills started to spread. It was getting increasingly harder to breathe, and I was running out of energy to even put up a fight, fast. No… I can’t give up! Never!

However, the terrifying blow of pain that I’d been expecting never came to pass. With a wail of pain, the man let go of me. Gone was the pressure that had been on my airway earlier.

I fell into the warm embrace of a pair of arms.

❖☆———————————★❖

Opening my eyes, my vision was enraptured by a clear blue light that I’d never seen before.

Osborn was hovering protectively about me, his eyes fixated on the back of the figure that made a break for it. Blue flames burned bright within the confines of his palm, flickering and swaying.

Osborn: You good?

I incredulously widened my eyes, thinking that everything I’d just experienced, and everything I was seeing right now, was just part of a dream.

However, the throbbing pain that lingered on my neck and the strange sight before me both told me that: No, this was not a dream. Not in the slightest.

MC: Blue… flames?

Something flashed within Osborn’s eyes. He was seemingly just as surprised by it as well. Then, the blue flames died down, disappearing from his open palm.

Osborn: Are you hurt?

MC: No… Thank you.

I raised my hand to touch my neck; the fear within my heart still lingering.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 3-3) | Next Part: (Chapter 3-8)

[bigyeshsamurai]

An Avid Foodie’s Guide To Night City

/ / Incoming Transmission / /

< / PART 2: A Hungry South Indian’s Guide to Night City>   

Good day to you beautiful folks in Night City! if you are like me; a disgruntled, hungry, often sad foodie who came to Night City with the hopes of making it Big then this article is for you! That’s right! because you can never hope to conquer the streets of night city on an empty stomach ( assuming you do have one..) . and I'm not talking about Kibble or those nasty Prepacks from All Foods or Synth food that makes you stomach CHURN ( God! I hate the Eezy Beef! ). I'm talking bout fresh food folks (that ought to get your attention!) , what most people may not know is that Fresh food ain't just the luxury of the Elite or the filthy rich. You common sheep too can get to savor the flavors of fresh food in the Streets and beyond that is if you know where to look and only if you have the right connections. ( You guys can thank me later! ). So here is a full day of my eating escapades in Night City.

A brief note on Indian food. Indian Cuisine has a multitude of flavors but  Indians really do like spicy food and most dishes here have a spicy undertone. But there is no dearth of sweet food here. Indian cuisine is a melting pot of varied cultures and that just makes it worthy to be in the market stalls of Night City as well; Spicy, Feisty, sometimes sweet but it  always makes you want to have more! 

1. 8:00 AM < // Wake The F**k Up Samurai! // >

Wake up early and head downtown. There is a very successful little store by the name of Ambrosia. Head over there for the best Kibble you'll ever have in your life time. Now you may thinking “What Kibble? That bland, grainy, dry stuff ? ” Well yes. You see, my friend Laila who runs Ambrosia has cracked the code for making Kibble taste great. The secret? Just add delectable Indian Spice Mix to them but the rest of the process though is pretty much as closed lipped as Arasaka Tower. But who cares? If you want the most nutritious, soft, aromatic and tastiest breakfast yet, give it a go. Truly it is a feast worthy for gods.  

 2. 11:00 AM < // Time For some snacks // >

Well it’s Almost Mid-day and I already feel hungry so I head to Pacifica. I have a good frenemy named Josh there that sells these amazing one of a kind banana chips form South India. The perfect combination of crusty texture, crispy feels, yellowish glow and the glory that is fried food. The Indomitable Fried banana chips. These are available for a very hefty price in the American markets but because you know me and Josh you may get it at a discount. It also comes in a nifty protective package for eating on the go. Just don’t take Jobs from Josh. There is a reason why we are frenemies.    

 3. 2: 00 PM (Nearby Pacifica) < / A drink for every occasion / >

A Merc in Night City can’t function on an empty stomach or low energy levels. Luckily for us, my brothas from the Animals have a solution for that. They have got a great cocktail of muscle building boosters, fresh strawberries, Lime, bananas and vodka, perfect for keeping those gains on the road or while fighting the bad guys. Where do they get these strawberries and Bananas from? Well lets just say they are not just pumped up freaks and they do know a bit about greenhouses too. It is possible to be barely natty in Night City too.  I present thee the drink dubbed “ Strawberry Pump Haze 3XT ”. 

5.  6: 00 PM < // Some more snacks by the Pier // >

In the bustling markets of the piers you will find a small, and very shanty looking store by the name of Singh’s Chow. At first glace it may not be much but in actuality it is a very successful smuggling front for premium Indian Spices. If you are an immigrant Indian like me this is the go to place if you want to bathe in the nosh-talgia of home. [ This was pretty difficult to find but I have my sources ] . Although be warned, they do not take kindly to strangers meddling in their business so it will be good to establish a rapport with them or have an Indian friend recommend you as a customer. It is home to the only place where you’ll find an Indian take on a dumpling or pierogi. It is a sweet dish made with wheat with fillings of coconut, brown sugar and a whole lot of goodness. 

4.  9:00 PM < // To The Afterlife Choombas! // >

Now after a long day of eating, evading the Police, Gangsters and doing Merc jobs it is best to head to the Afterlife to wind down (Albeit with a gun in hand though). For The Men among Boys do yourself a favor and get the Club  Exclusive Johnny Silverhand. Waft in its glory, Get High and Get Moving for we always have some barbeque, steaks and Parottas to burn. 

5. 11:00 PM  < // Somewhere in the Badlands // >

Now because it is the weekend and I have got nothing better to do, I head out to the badlands. A few months ago I had to Win a death race in my pursuit of exploring the tastes of Night City or its Peripheries. Fast forward a month I am now thick friends with a tight knit nomad group that mainly consists of immigrants from India (Name classified). The Fourth Corporate War was not kind to their livelihood and they were forced to settle in the Badlands taking up illegal smuggling from India to the United States and vice-versa. Now these guys are the real deal. they can get access to a lot of Livestock. Don't know how they get it though. Today I was invited to a weekly community barbeques and I offered my services to cook them a proper Indian dish; The Chicken Biriyani . they just had to get the ingredients. Trust me when I say “ Trust the Nomads”  cos they can get any ingredient you want! So here I was preparing the dish in the open flame. Basking under the Night Sky with a few friends I had made along the way. A perfect ending to a perfect day.

< // Tune in Next Time for news on the best chows and drinks in Night City. Next up is a special mystery edition //>

Until then this is Avid Foodie chippin' out !

P.S : 

These dishes are traditionally found in many South Indian homes, and as South Indians can be found almost anywhere around the world (This is a standing joke among us). I thought that maybe Night City too would have its own share of South Indian people. Now the Dishes in their traditional names are given below: 

1. The grainy looking stuff: Its famously known as the Poha 

2. Banana Chips are famously known as Malabar chips. 

3. The Rice with Chicken : Biriyani (This tends to have a lot of variants from place to place)

4. The bite sized dumpling: Unniyappam

I genuinely think that dishes have proved their mettle to be in the market stalls of Night City. 

[otonymous]

(Otonymous’ Follower Milestone Celebration): From the Pages of Le Comte’s Diary (IkeVamp - NSFW)

Description: You happen to find le Comte de Saint-Germain’s diary by chance.  Do you dare to take a look inside? Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Trigger warnings: very mild hints of somnophilia & dubcon (without actual violation), mentions of death.  SPOILERS for something minor noted in Leonardo’s MS. Author’s Notes: Hey everyone!  This piece was heavily inspired by a personal headcanon I have of le Comte’s backstory and, for all intents and purposes, can be seen as a continuation to an earlier fic I wrote for him, Bitten.

(SPOILER ALERT!!) I also noticed while playing Leonardo’s route that he sometimes refers to le Comte with his name in quotation marks.  It happened so frequently that I was inclined to think that this was no mere typo.  This observation will figure in the following piece as well.

I’ve never played le Comte’s route before in the JP server and I try to stay away from spoilers, so the rest is just pure speculation on my part!  That being said, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, and happy reading! 😊

Tagging the following lovelies: @ambrosiallkiss​, @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons​

All characters & Ikemen Vampire owned by Cybird.

17th of May, XXXX

She sleeps; soft skin taunting beneath the gossamer silk of her nightgown - satin ribbons and blush pink and almost coquettish in how it barely concealed anything of the wonders beneath:

Breasts exquisitely tipped, nipples hardening like jewels beneath the heat of my stirring breath.

Hourglass curves limned in silver moonlight spilling into her room (for even after lifetimes apart, she maintains the habit of retiring with the curtains open) — lending her the ethereal cast of the goddess Diana herself.

The shadows between her legs, darkness undulating every time she shifted upon the bed; thighs parting...then closing…then parting again as her lips dropped in a wisp of a moan that reverberated nonetheless like an orchestra in my ears.

For she had called to me.  

Writhing upon her bed in the throes of what seemed a particularly feverish dream, she had uttered my name — that which had never been revealed to her nor any of the mansion’s other residents aside from Leo.  And there is no other man I trust more with a secret.  Yet, there it was like a miracle…spilling unbidden from those perfect lips.

How long has it been since I was last addressed as such?  Not “le Comte de Saint-Germain” but by the name of my birth.  Not since she was in my arms last, hundreds of years in a past when I knew her by an entirely different name and face.

Different, yes, but beautiful no less.  And though she returned to me changed, I recognized her immediately by scent — fragrant blood ripe with the sweet spring of life, pulsing hot beneath delicate skin that flushed when I approached her that fateful day, palm outstretched like a hopeful supplicant to return what she had lost:

An earring of amethyst.

The same precious stone as the one in which I had carved the elegant profile of her face; the cameo the very first gift I had given her...and the very last piece of jewellery I adorned her body with the day they laid her to rest all those grey seasons ago.

But my lover has returned.  And though many say our kind walk in darkness, God has revealed itself to me by this very act of faith.  For she is the light: the spark in her eyes more brilliant than a thousand suns, the warmth of her soul the very fire of a hearth, forever burning.

Yes, she has returned.  And I am home once more.

Yet, I linger at the threshold, paralyzed by the thought of her dissipating like smoke before my very eyes.  Could this much happiness be allowed for one such as myself?  Would Cupid’s arrow be tipped with sympathy for a creature’s plight, striking twice like lightning bearing down upon the selfsame tree?

Alas, caution, caution.  To be exercised constantly.

I remind myself, always, to stay the haste that would urge me to reveal all, as fantastical as the story may seem to a woman both worldly and hailing from a time that, I’ve learned, has very little tolerance for things incapable of being stripped away by science.

Thus, I must find contentment in observation, watching the slow procession of my bride as she fumbles among the great men I’ve gathered.  Waiting…hoping for the day that she’ll discover her place by the side of one who has loved her and only her since time immemorial.  For I would never force her hand.  If she is to love, it would be completely of her own accord.  

Such is my situation: to look but never to touch.  Never seeking to interfere.  It is torture of the most acute degree.

In a stark reminder that I, too, was once a man possessed of love and passion, jealousy and lust, I almost succumbed tonight.  Her soft moans had drawn me to her bedchamber, and when she failed to respond to my inquiries as to her well-being, I entered her room without express permission, fearing the worst.

And there…a sight to rival Venus’ birth upon foamy shores:

Tresses of silk fanned out upon down pillows as a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her brow, ma chérie had thrown off her bedcovers and continued to writhe under the influence of a dream.  Her lashes fluttered long like butterflies in flight, and I was captivated by the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the perfect flesh of supple breasts visible beneath the gauzy layers of her nightgown.

I pressed a hand to her forehead, relieved to find it cool to the touch and tried to keep from being distracted by her tongue as it slipped out to wet pink lips from corner to corner, as if fighting to quench some unfathomable thirst.  I wondered from which well of desire she had drawn in the hazy web of sleep to excite her so.

I wasn’t left ignorant for long, for it was then that she moaned my name, beckoning like the goddess of love herself and impossible to ignore as the sound stirred something deep in my enraptured heart and loins.  And just when I gathered every last shred of willpower to pull away, she grasped me by the wrist, fingers curling tight and with surprising strength.

Selfishly, I yielded.  Allowed her to draw me in any direction she saw fit until I was positioned over her sleeping form on all fours, like the basest of beasts.  I told myself that I did not wish to disturb her slumber, but the heart knows its own darkness.  For I was hopelessly drawn to the flush of her cheeks, the way her hands sought purchase in my hair — pushing my head lower and lower, allowing my gaze to take in every glorious inch of her body as it moved towards the heat between her legs.

She stopped then, spread herself even wider and lifted slightly off the bed as if seeking the warmth of my breath.  It blew shaky upon bare skin, for she had worn no undergarments.  Her heady scent wafted towards me, a bouquet delectable and sweet, as if deliberately fashioned to please my palate, and I smiled to remember the times I’d feast upon her until the candles burned low.

She glistened — rosy flesh trembling as her arousal beaded to drip from her entrance, leaving a salacious trail that ended in a growing spot of moisture on the bed beneath her.  She called for me again, the wanton whine of her voice mixed with a desperation I only knew too well, and it would’ve been so easy to take up her invitation with the tip of my tongue, lapping at the nectar offered up by her beautiful flower in bloom.

It would have been easy, yes.  But I am not one unaccustomed to hardship.

And so, with the greatest care not to rouse her, I extricated myself from her grasp, pulling the covers over her sleeping form once more.

On this night, I allowed myself this: the gentlest press of my lips to her forehead.  The slightest touch of my nose to the tip of hers.  Then I bade ma chérie “bonne nuit” as I closed the door behind me.

She will come to me once more, awake and willing.  And when she does...

…she will know my name.

(End of Entry)

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📓

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Out of Time

summary: As Loki lay dying he makes one last phone call to you, pretending that it is just another ordinary day. warnings: character death, blood, poison, angst, language a/n: this was inspired after a similar story by @what-just-happened-bro (read it here). I churned this out in just a few hours and I’m sure that I missed some errors, but I think the effect is still the same! wordcount: 1209 masterlist here

Loki was meant to have more time.

Was that not the bittersweet draw of falling in love with a Midgardian? He was to spend the rest of your fleeting, mortal existence by your side, basking in the sunlight of your smile, and then when it faded beyond the horizon, he would follow you to the gates of Valhalla where you so rightfully belonged.

You had fought him for the entirety of your relationship on his worthiness to step into that hallowed hall. Between playful fights on your bed as you writhed beneath him, eyes gleaming with mischief and love, and passionate shouting matches that always ended in you falling into the soothing embrace of the other, insistent but gentle as you stroked his hair in your small and tender hand, you’d convinced him that he may have earned his place after all.

If only it would allow him to see you once again.

The dirt and rocks bit into his back as he shifted to survey the slash rending his skin in two. Sweat blurred his vision, but even he could see the inky black toxin dyeing his veins before it disappeared between his leather armor. The acrid amalgamation of metallic blood and pungent poison coated his tongue, a most heart-wrenching death knell.

There wasn’t enough time.

A snap of his fingers called his phone into his trembling hand. The picture of you, smiling into the camera with the sun in your eyes, smudged with blood as he swiped his thumb to unlock it. The one object that he had loathed the most--if he wished to communicate with someone he would do so in person--was now his most precious possession.

Just one more stolen bit of time with you thanks to such primitive technology. Please.

A deep breath, a cough that wracked his prone body, and then he held the phone to his ear.

Norns, please answer.

“Hello- ah shit! Hold on one sec, Loki.”

There you were, his love. He listened to the running of water, your unintelligible muttering, and what sounded like food sizzling. Each second was an eternity that stretched far too long. He didn’t have enough time.

“Darling? Are you there?” His bloodshot eyes darted over the bodies of the dark elves he had slain, a gruesome sight to send him to the end of his days.

Your breath blew into the speaker just before you speak, and his soul sighed in relief. “Sorry, Mischief. I burnt my hand on the pan again. Think you can help me out when you get home?”

Tears burned the backs of his eyes and he turned his face to the cloudless sky so that they rolled streaks down the dirt staining his sharply cut cheeks. He swallowed around the thickness in his throat. “Of course, my love. What are you making?”

“Your favorite.” The sound of you puttering around in the background, tending to the food, tossing a used spoon in the sink, was all so domestic and achingly familiar that he could so easily picture you there. It was one of his favorite sights, you comfortable and content in your home, turning even the most mundane activities into a glorious occasion just by your partaking in them.

His hands knew the softness of your skin beneath his “borrowed” t-shirt you wore as a nightshirt. His nose knew the scent of your hair, a combination of the both of you after he held you flush to his chest throughout the night. He knew the tilt of your head as you’d inspect the food you prepared. He could almost picture you now, face flushed from the heat of the stove as you beamed your happiness into the phone.

It was selfish, to not tell you of the true reason behind his call, but he did not want to hear your voice twisted in despair. He was not strong enough to withstand such pain.

“I forgot to grab some bread from the store,” you admitted with a frustrated sigh. You were always so adorable when you’d purse your lips at your own shortcomings. How he’d kiss any worries or anxieties from your delectable face. He should’ve done so more often. “Can you pick that up on the way home?”

“You and your forgetful mind. What would you do without me?” he jested hollowly, playing off the sob that forced its way past his throat as a quick laugh. He coughed again and pressed his hand over the wound on his chest. The searing agony grounded him, pulled him away from the darkness closing in on the edges of his vision.

He would take all the time he had for you.

“Good thing I’ll never have to find out.”

The surety of your voice, so sweet, so innocent, wrapped around his heart and squeezed. It had only begun to beat again when you’d skipped into his life, chasing away the shadows of his past with a bubbly laugh, sharp tongue, and warm embrace. How cruel was it that he was to lose his life after he had only just begun to live it?

He closed himself off to the sights around him; his eyelids were just too heavy. You stood there in his mind’s eye, swaying your hips back and forth to the faint tune he could hear behind the din of your cooking. An angel sent to guide him towards peace.

“Loki, I gotta g-”

“No!” he pleaded, his voice a high, frightened shout that tore at his parched throat. He eased the harshness of his words with a ragged sigh. “No, darling. I need to know if you need anything else, before you hang up.”

You hummed quietly in thought. Always with a delicate press of your lips together and a gentle furrow of your brow. “Just you. Are you coming home soon?”

Loki had promised to never lie to you, and he had always kept that promise throughout your relationship. He hoped that you’d forgive him for breaking that vow, just this once. “Yes. I cannot wait to be in your arms again, my love. I miss you so terribly.”

“If you miss me so much, come and get me,” you teased, and then your voice lowered with sincerity. “Miss you, too. I love you.”

The darkness began to overwhelm even the perfection of your smiling face in his thoughts. He could not fight it for the wash of ice gripping his trembling, ruined body. Not even the sickly heat of his blood trapped between pallid skin and sweat-slick leather could warm him now. A Frost Giant, and it would be the cold embrace of Death to take him from you. There was an irony there, but he was too weary to find it. All of his strength went into his hushed reply of, “I love you too, little one, more than all the stars in the sky.”

Never before had silence rang so loudly in his ears. He dragged his eyes open and turned his head to the side, staring at the lockscreen on his phone. Staring at you. Red was not your color, no, but nothing could ever detract from your beauty.

Not even his last, rattled breath.

Loki was finally out of time.

~

Little Bit o’ Loki taglist: @myownviperroom @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @ms-cellanies @rosierossette @thathedonistgirl @lokixme @hellethil @myraiswack @birdgirl90 @cateyes315 @weirdfangirl2416

Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @peterman-spideyparker @wegingerangelica​ @bluefrenchfries604​ @catsladen @snoopy3000​ @silverswordthekilljoy @villainousshakespeare​ @kitkatd7​ @nonbinarylowkey​ @lots-of-loki​ @is-it-madness​ @kangaroobunny​ @trippedmetaldetector​ @green-valkyrie​ @what-just-happened-bro​ @salempoe​