#just worried for my fellow siblings

[andwithinme]

You Are Not a Sodomite, By a Gay Christian (Me!)

I'm begging people to understand that being called a 'sodomite' or calling yourself a 'sodomite' is not some cool religious rebellion thing, it is a horrible and disgusting thing to be compared to. No, Sodom and Gomorrah were not same-sex places, that was not the sin that God destroyed them for-- it was sexual assault, pedophilia, inhospitality, and much much more-- and the only reason people think for even a moment that it was about homosexuality was because of the famously mistranslated line that so many homophobic 'Christians' use to disown their own flesh and blood that-- when translated correctly-- only refers to pedophilia and not homosexuality.

Being a gay Christian myself, I find it very hard to understand why people use such terms proudly without researching in full the gravity of the words. I know that many people have religious trauma, that is something I grapple with myself, but if you're gonna be rebellious try not and call yourself a criminal in the process.

I'm only making this post because I want others to not be seen in a bad light and not to be misunderstood because of something they did not understand fully when they heard it. I love everyone, and I want people to be seen for their good parts and not their bad. No, you are not a sodomite, you are a wonderful person and you do not deserve that name attached to you at all. Most of my friends and loved ones (minus family) are atheists or agnostic and I still respect them. Why? Because that is what Jesus would do, and Jesus is my role model.

[0n3b0r3dguy]

@diggitydoggo Y'know what. Fuck the new design in my head, the older design is better.

This is Cerami

They're joining the Hero's Council™. No, they're not my other OC, Alga. They are related, though. They're an enigma. They aren't a toon, but they aren't a twisted either. Which is weird, because they have the same components of a toon, and they constantly say that they didn't use to always look like this. They also know and occasionally call Suitor Gavin (SS timeline lol), despite Rodger's interrogations showing that Twisted Suitor didn't tell them about his name. I can imagine the first time they referred to Suitor as Gavin, he just hard turns to look at them, the concrete scraping noise playing as he turns, and he's just like: "Pardon me, what?" They're also very indecisive. They can't decide if they want a poly relationship with broody and aggressive Twisted Suitor and needy little shit Twisted Glisten, or normal and cute Suitor. Their ship name is PorcelainPaladin

[in-tua-deep]

wait i just remembered. on friday we has a "awesome committee" staff meeting which is apparently just a meeting for staff to like. bring food. play games. and bond with each other? and this week we played two truths and a lie

mine were i have only broken one bone and it wasn't even my fault (lie), i'm the youngest of five children (true), and i dislocated my arm six times before the age of seven (also true)

so many people picked the youngest of five children as the lie. one person commented that they thought i might have four sibling but i don't give off youngest child energy or something

what does that mean

what. what energy do i give off. what birth order vibe do i have. i just remember this happened and it has been haunting me ever since

[caleanamajored]

i wonder if ill ever be as interested in like...gender and identity as i was when i was a teenager. im at the point in my life where im she/her in my head, he/they to those who know me, she/her to those who dont. idc abt the minutia of my identity. i sure used to! perhaps it only served me when it was a function of self discovery wrapped and layered among the other self-discoveries of the teenage years. but its occurred to me now that those who dedicate their lives to things like gender studies, its a passion for them. its not just a byproduct. they may have discovered that passion during that phase of self discovery, but the bug that bit them held on, whereas i guess i shook it off at some point.

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[bunny-jpeg]

sibling situation

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut & plot, mactavish!reader, size kink/difference, missionary sex, unprotected sex, marriage & babies (at the end), romance, simon's found family

this rabbit runs on reblogs & comments! feed the rabbit!

simon knew that johnny had a sister. you had been brought up in conversation tons of times. after the death of your parents, you and johnny were really all each other had. but johnny left for the military right before turning eighteen and you struggled to put yourself through university. it wasn't the easiest life and simon could understand, he had his own scars of his childhood.

"so, why are you dragging me out here again, johnny?"

"get ya out of that shoe box flat. got a little more leg room where i am."

johnny had driven the car all the way to edinburgh with a promise that a little time away would do wonders for the other man. simon had his ear talked off about how london was just too big, and while edinburgh was a city. it would be a break from the intense metropolitan of london. if need be the two of them and you could go on a getaway to the countryside.

"this better be good, johnny."

"ah, don't worry! i promise, you'll have the time of your life!" johnny reached over and slapped his friend on the back, "plus, you have to meet my sister."

the flat that you shared with johnny was well kept. of course it was, your brother was out most of the year with an automatic deposit for rent and when he was home, it was so ingrained with the military that things were kept tidy. and you on the other hand enjoyed tidiness as well.

even if cleaning the place in his absence felt a bit much sometimes, you still at least picked up your socks off the floor, put the clean dishes in the cupboard and washed out the carafe of the coffee maker. but you had worked over time to make sure everything was perfect, not for your brother (he could clean himself), but rather the mysterious guest that he was bringing.

you didn't want his lieutenant to think you lived like animals!

when the knock on the front door came, you happily welcomed them. your gaze was captured away from your grinning brother and rather the larger man beside him. he wore a black medical face mark, but you could see the tiredness in his eyes. the mop of blond hair and a slight scar over his eyebrow.

"oh, kid, this simon. simon riley, my lt." johnny smiled, patting his fellow solider on the arm.

you shot him a glance, "i'm almost thirty, johnny. i'm far from a kid." you were a bite fiery, simon liked that.

johnny beamed back at you, "but you'll always be my little sister. gotten into trouble while i was gone?"

you let both men in and replied, "well except for yelling at those stupid kids from the secondary school about smoking in front of my window. nothing else really happened."

johnny dropped his bags on the hardwood floor and kicked off his boots. he put them correctly by the door before he stretched his arms over his head, "where's that guy you were seein'. teddy or somethin'?"

simon stood a little straighter. of course you had a boyfriend, look at you!

you waved your hand, "oh, he's long gone. i guess cousin nikki's words are true." you looked at your brother, "never date a man in finance. turns out he had more than one bonnie in his pocket."

johnny dropped his shoulders and remarked, "never liked the guy anyway. seemed a little uptight, would never survive a gathering of the mactavish's." he laughed.

simon felt odd in the space. seeing the siblings interacting. he thought of his own brother for a moment. instead he just followed suit and took off his heavy boots as well.

you looked at simon, "i hope it's okay that you take the couch. this place is only two bedrooms. the couch." you gestured to it, "does pull out so hopefully you'll have enough room. but, if you don't, tomorrow my lovely brother can give up his room."

"my room!" johnny replied loudly, "i've still got sand in my crack for the mission and you're givin' my room!"

you shot your brother a glance which johnny coward from. no words had to be said. johnny knew that it would be the right thing to do. after all, simon was his guest.

the afternoon went by slowly, and you and johnny moved through the small kitchen like a team. johnny was good at dicing and you were good at keeping an eye on the sauteeing vegetables.

"simon." you said which made simon look up from his spot at the small dining table. your eyes met and you pushed some hair out of your face, "two things. one, there should be a headband on the table it's soft and used for make-up. i need to get this hair out of my eyes. secondly, johnny never said that you had any dietary issues. is there anything i should avoid? i just sort of got our normal grocery order."

simon perked a little bit more, "oh i don't have any allergies or anything, ma'am." he gave a small nod, "i could eat anythin'."

you nodded, "okay, excellent!"

the blond found in endearing. it was almost hypnotic watching you put together the vegetables with the hearty pasta sauce. you worked a stove top like no other. the only problem was that your brother kept getting in the way of his sight of you.

been a while since a woman cooked him a meal.

simon got up quickly and gave you the headband. it was soft and pink colour with two sewn on cat ears made of the same material. you put it on and simon's heart skipped a beat. you were just so beautiful.

dinner of pasta, toasted buns and salad were served with a bottle of grocery store wine. the three of you drank, ate and chatted. you and johnny had most of the conversation while simon enjoyed listening.

he figured out that he could listen to you talk forever.

"well, i'm tired." johnny said as he rubbed his eyes. he finished the rest of his wine before he got up. he patted you on the top of the head, "i'll do the dishes in the mornin'. thanks for dinner, kid."

you rolled your eyes, pouring yourself another glass, "i'm not a kid."

johnny chuckled then looked to simon, "she'll get ya comfortable for the evenin'. i'll see ya tomorrow." before his tired steps headed towards the bedroom. soon the door closed and the sound of his body hitting the bed could be softly heard.

you leaned back in the kitchen chair, one leg draped over the other with your arms crossed. you admitted, "it must be hard to date. finding someone who understands your world."

simon stretched out a little more in his chair. he eyed the empty wine glass in front of him, "i try not to think about it so hard."

"i've heard stories about you. the terrifying ghost. there one moment, gone the next." you then reached across the table to drag a finger down the inside of simon's wrist, "i wonder if i had you in my bed tonight, if you'd be gone by morning."

your admission made simon's dark eyes grow a little wider. he said, "well, i have nowhere else to go."

you smiled a little, "must be lonely. i know it's lonely for me. to feel close to someone."

simon asked, "do you want to sleep with me miss mactavish?"

you chuckled lowly, as to not awake your brother in his room. you leaned back a little once more and gazed at him. you were definitely johnny's brother. the look in your eye said it all. you tilted your head a little to the side and asked, "is it that obvious, mister riley?"

the sound of wooden chairs against the floor as the two of you made your way to the bedroom. you took simon by his tattooed wrist and got him into your room. the door was shut a little louder than you hoped. you turned on the light and simon was already working the belt of his jeans.

you were quick to get your t-shirt off and you saw simon's hungry gaze on you as you became free of your clothes. his eyes raked the exposed skin and thought you looked like a dream.

"like what you see, simon?"

he nodded, "more beautiful than the photos, ma'am."

you covered your mouth while you giggled, "no need for the formalities. if my brother is underranked by you, then i'm sure as hell as a civilian."

simon got a hold of your waist, "you deserve a little more respect than your brother." then pulled you in for a soft kiss. even with his scars that you had seen over dinner. you thought he was beautiful.

it made you warm all over as you pulled the dark t-shirt on his shoulders. he helped you get out of it. and your hands pressed against his chest. you admired the scars, the tattoos, the overall beauty of him.

"i wish my brother had said his lt was hot prior. i would've tried to get with you sooner."

simon picked you up by the waist, your legs wrapped around his waist as he brought you to the bed and sat you down. he then started to work at the button of your jeans. once they were off, he cupped the bulge in his pants.

you slipped out of your simple purple panties and the white bra you wore. you then laid out on your bed with your hands behind your head and you giggled softly.

simon was absolutely smitten by you. he had come to the conclusion that when they were talking about the beauties in scotland. they meant you. and only you. once you were both naked, he got onto the bed.

the bed was a bit smaller than he had hoped, but you two could fit into it thankfully. he was worried that his large, bulkier frame would inch you off of the mattress. but it was a lot easier when he got between your legs. his achy erection, bright red at the tip, begged for attention.

you swallowed a little, "i wonder if it'll fit."

"then you tell me if it does. got it? you mactavish's have a habit of not showing pain." simon gave you a pointed gaze.

you covered your face for a minute, "okay. talk about my brother ends here. i don't want to hear about him while you're balls deep inside of me."

simon chuckled lightly and leaned in for another kiss. he said softly, close to your lips, "if it's anything, love. you're much more a looker than he is."

you held onto his blond locks and pulled him in for a hot kiss. you made a small noise when he shifted your hips up against him. to get a better angle of his cock inside of you.

"simon."

he said softly, his voice still gravely, "beautiful, beautiful girl. i don't know what that last boyfriend of yours was thinkin'. why want another when he could have you. but, i guess that means more for me."

your cheeks grew hot and simon pressed his cock up against you wet slit. you felt your heartbeat race at the anticipation of what was to come. you tensed up at the feeling of his cock being pushed into it.

"i got ya, i got ya. you feel so good there, love."

you nodded, "it's been a while. sorry if i'm too.. tight."

simon loomed over you like a comforting shadow. he gazed down at you, but there was a softness to his tired eyes. you didn't realize how pretty his eyes were. a deep dark brown, that lured you in while in the soft lighting of your bedroom.

he started to move against you and you let out a small moan. the bed squeaked a little bit. thankfully the frame didn't hit the wall. you two had to be somewhat quiet. even if your brother could be heard snoring in the room next to yours.

the sex between you two was quick, but not rough. the idea of bruising such a beauty made simon feel disgusted. you were meant to be cherished. he wanted to know everything about you.

"you are quite handsome, simon."

"thank you, love." he said softly as he held onto your thighs and moved against you. even in missionary you looked beautiful. the slight bounce of your breasts in time with his movements. he wanted to kiss all your soft parts throughout his visit in your sweet home.

he could get used to a warm meal and a warm cunt to bury himself into every night. maybe johnny was right, staying with you was better than being in london.

maybe he could get used to scotland.

he knew he could fit easily into the chaos of the mactavish family. if he could handle johnny, then he could handle you. at least he could fuck one of you quiet.

you felt your heart hammering at the feeling of it all. your noises were so sweet that it made simon need to bury himself deeper inside of you. he needed to feel all you could offer.

call him a sick puppy, but his brain was now wired to need you. you were a hit of a feeling that simon was so painfully unfamiliar with that it almost scared him. but as he admired the sight of you under him.

those soft lips partially opened, your eyes closed. you looked like an angel, and he swore he found heaven.

"beautiful." he said softly, his rugged voice made you feel like honey. gooey and warm, filling.

you came with your hands in his shaggy blond hair. your back arched as you felt the heat through you. you moaned a little louder than you hoped for as he continued to thrust up into you.

panting breaths between heavy thrusts as you laid spread out on the bed, letting simon move quicken his pace to reach his climax. he could feel it on the tip of his tongue. and with a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside of you. his cheeks flushed and his mouth hung open in a heavy pant.

"fuck, simon."

"beautiful." he said absently. not able to think of much else besides your beauty. you were the kind of woman that simon was into.

he pulled out of you and rested down beside you on bed. you chuckled softly, your head still a little full of post orgasmic bliss. you got the covers on top of you and cuddled him naked.

clothed would be a worry in the morning.

when morning came, simon tried to slink back to the couch before johnny woke up. but when he exited your room and entered the main living space. he found johnny sitting there at the kitchen table. he was leaned back into his seat. simon caught sight of the pistol on the worn wooden table.

"so, si." johnny said, looking away from his paper to look at his fellow solider, "what are yer intentions with my sister?"

it had been a very long time since simon felt the stone of dread in his stomach. he tried not to show it across his scarred face. simon could instantly recall every military statistic that johnny had. there could be a million and one ways that the scottish solider could kill simon. and it wasn't like simon could do anything, he couldn't kill your brother.

there was a brief moment of silence between the two of them. neither made a motion or noise. simon wondered what was to come next. no amount of training could've prepared him for this.

but johnny broke the silence with laughter, "i'm just messin' with ya! the gun's not even loaded. just wanted to scare ya." he leaned forward in his seat. he looked at simon, "i don't care how my sister sees, but i have to be a little bit intimidating, don't ya think so, si?"

simon chuckled nervously.

johnny's suddenly expression dropped and he put down his paper in favour of the unloaded pistol. he pointed the front of it to simon, one eye closed as if he was going to shoot the blond in front of him. he said, "but if you break her heart there, simon. i won't be so forgiving."

the doorway to your bedroom opened with a loud creak and your voice rang through the apartment the three of you were in, "I swear to god! john michael mactavish! you better not be intimidating him!"

-

"you're seriously crying?" you asked your brother as you watched him gently take a hold of your newborn. your brother was a military man for christ's sake. he was weeping like a baby.

simon loomed over his colleague, protective over his newborn. his stern brown gaze read simply, "don't fuck it up, soap." he was ready to jump in if johnny fucked it up.

you were resting back in the hospital room, you just had your child with simon. you two had been married for a little over three years. it became habit for simon to come with johnny post-missions. the drive up to the city and you waiting for them.

a hug for your brother, a kiss for your lover.

now you were watching your brother cry at the sight of his nephew. the chubby little boy bundled up in a blanket. unaware of his weepy uncle. you looked at him with a slightyl stunned expression.

you probably cried less when you finally pushed him out. you didn't want to tell him the news because you thought he was going to cry more. while your son's first name was oliver, his middle name was john. after the crying mactavish in the hospital room.

"he really takes after us." john remarked when his cries died down.

you chuckled, "he sure does, johnny. now hand him over before you drop him." <3

[kurogxrix]

Stomach Empty, Heart Full

[part 2]

Viking!Bucky x Wife!reader

IN WHICH you’re sick and refuse to eat, but it’s nothing that your beefy husband Bucky can’t help with.

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: vague mentions of smut, mentions of puke, beefy!bucky, INACCURATE VIKING UNITS, pregnancy(?).

A/N: my mom is the BIGGEST viking fan and yet idk anything abt em so…yes everything about this is inaccurate. From their beds to their huts but it’s fiction so who CARES.

A huge campfire was bustling outside your hut, that you knew. The sounds of men and women alongside their noisy children made the headache currently gnawing at your head just about 10 times worse. You’d been lying sick since this morning and if you were being honest with yourself, all you craved was for a good sip of water alongside the company of your dear husband. 

Talking of, Bucky had been gone for far too long now. Even though he’d just gone on his regular routine as a fellow warrior, it helped that they’d only gone out to hunt that morning. 

You suddenly winced as the high pitched wail of a kid adventuring far too close to your hut breached your ear drums, and from the thud that you’d heard a split second before, he’d taken a nasty fall to himself. It didn’t help that his father had chosen the front of your hut opening to reprimand his son, the headache feeling like it would burst out from your head and carve a hole through your skin at any moment now. 

You couldn’t tell what sort of sickness you’d picked up on, but hell if you wouldn’t give up anything in your possession in that instant for an ounce of relief. Your stomach yelled at you for food, but the ache in your head only increased the growing nausea that came with your illness. You were sure that once you’d be healed and back on your feet, you’d kill whichever scum had passed on their bug to you. 

Comfort only came as you curled over yourself, soft blankets warming you, the stitches and patches of soft furs from all sorts of animals that Bucky had hunted and skinned for you. You missed your husband so, so much more in your sick haze. Your eyes finally started to droop as you felt your body giving in to slumber, which was hard prior to the insane pounding at the far back of your head.  

It didn’t take long for your vision to darken, your rumbling stomach being the furthest of your worries as a faint smile overtook your features as you felt the headache begin to dissipate as sleep pulled you in its arms. You could almost taste it, the sweet and victorious taste of relief, when- 

“You are not joining us tonight?” And there it was, the pounding in your head almost immediately punched back to life at the loud sound of whoever that was that had breached your hut. You groaned in dismay, turning around reluctantly to find your sister looking at you in confusion. It didn’t help with the fact that she was your sibling, but at that instant you wanted nothing more than to rip her hairs straight from the root and craft yourself a rag doll with them out of spite. 

“Get out.” you mumbled before rolling back, not missing the way her eyebrows furrowed at your rudeness. You’d treat her a little better if you felt a little better, but you didn’t, and to add to that the only person that you wanted with you right now was probably fighting off whatever beast was hiding in the forest. 

She did, however, listen to you for what felt like the first time in your entire life as sisters. A content sigh left your lips at the newfound silence, as silent as it could be with a meal in preparation happening outside. Finally, you felt the warm arms of slumber welcoming you again in the embrace that you seeked so much, and it felt a little too good to be true. Maybe because you had a knack for jinxing yourself, but the sound of the hut door creaking again had you close to tears. 

The sound of metal colliding against the floor however, gave you a brief idea that it was in fact not your sister. You didn’t have it in you to greet your husband, instead choosing to wallow in your pain as you held yourself like a dying child. You didn’t hear much from Bucky but the rustling of something that sounded big and meaty, probably a catch that he’d brought home to skin later. 

On his side, Bucky was confused as to why you weren’t outside with the other people. It wasn’t that you didn’t know that the feast had arrived, and if you’d fallen asleep, the doubling in noise would’ve surely awakened even the deafest foe. He contemplated waking you up before his blue eyes fell upon the bucket of water by the door, as full as it was before he’d left home that morning.

With his eyebrow furrowed, Bucky kneeled beside you in all of his silence. You could hear the trinkets attached to his belt clanking against one another, his booted feet causing a heavy thud against the floor. 

“You haven’t drunk, you haven’t eaten.” he stated as a matter of fact, and your undying silence threw him off. He’d been your husband long enough to know that you weren’t sleeping, eyelids shut as a decoy more than anything. The beefy brunette sighed at your actions, eyes flickering between the  abandoned wooden plate that harboured his food, waiting for him in all of its loneliness. The cut of meat had his mouth salivating for a taste, after all he had been gone all day to bring back food for his people, why shouldn’t he enjoy it? 

Yet, he just couldn’t get himself to as he eyed your curled figure. There must’ve been a reason why you hadn’t bothered to take care of yourself today, of course there must’ve been one, and as your husband - it was all the more his duty to care for you. There was no resentment or obligations in his actions, only love. 

One of Bucky’s palms slid under your cheek, disconnecting your face from its warm place upon the layers of furs. You whined in dismay, but Bucky didn’t falter. His huge palm covered half of your face, his thumb rubbing at your cheek with inclination. You felt your body relax once more as he slowly let go, as much as you’d normally complain, this time you felt happy as your cheek made contact with the blanket once more. 

Your peace didn't last long, not when you had a burly husband who had enough force to take down a 300 pound beast on his own. You gasped suddenly as you felt his arms wrapping themselves around you, before pulling you into the warmth of a familiar torso. You wasted no time getting comfortable, you head pushing impossibly further into the firm flesh of his chest to serve as a pillow. It didn’t faze Bucky, blue iris simply gazing down at your slithering form. 

“You haven’t eaten today,” he states again, and this time you’d actually taken the courage to look up at him, eyelids pushing away from each other painfully slowly as you tried to adjust to the dim light of the oil lamps burning by the side of the hut. You could feel his warm palm slowly inching itself into caressing your back through the material of your dress, the beaded necklace that you wore squished between the both your bodies. 

Bucky didn’t ask, he could tell that you were ill and you had no intentions of talking if you didn’t feel well. So he did what he could, a hand digging into the meat in his plate to rip a fat piece off. You watched in dismay as his hands dragged to your mouth, pausing before you closed lips as you refused him access. 

“You’ll be even more ill if you don’t eat, come on.” his gruffly voice sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the ends of his long, auburn hair tickling your cheeks as the wind whistled past the cracks of your shared hut. Your nose involuntarily scrunched at the smell of the meat before you, which you normally loved like all people in your village. Bucky took notice of your discomfort, lowering his hand slightly to prevent you from puking all over him and the place. 

You made a sound of frustration, sick and tired of being sick and tired. You simply wanted to eat and all the more drink but your body just wouldn’t let you do any of it. So sick that tears pricked at your waterline again, resurfacing the throbbing headache that'd been killing you since this morning. 

You couldn’t even have told when the sob had burst through your mouth, but it had apparently and it didn’t fail to startle the hulk of a man you were lucky to call your husband. In a split second, the food was dropped back in the discarded plate, and his hands were quick to carelessly wipe clean against his cloak with little to no care for it. 

Bucky’s heart was hardened from the series of events that’d turmoiled his life from his birth, being a viking was anything but easy. He’d bathed in blood, his own like not, he was scarred mentally just as physically. Yet, he was fierce with a shell as hard as rock to carry his sorrows in. Despite all, nothing hurt Bucky like seeing you upset, or even worse in this scenario, hurt. 

Cradling your head to his chest, he tilted your head softly towards his own as you cried upon his chest. It was weird seeing a woman such as yourself cry over something that couldn’t be seen, yet enough described because your words wouldn’t even allow you to. So to say that Bucky was worried was an understatement, you’d never cried over something so minor, best to deduct that it wasn’t.

“I’ll go and fetch the lach, better hope that Thyra has the herbs to fix you a remedy.” he spoke more to himself than to you, referring to the village healer. You didn’t want him to go though, you’d spent enough time on this miserable day away from the only man you’d wish to see, so you weren’t about to let him go. 

“No, I can handle it until daytime. I just want to eat…I’ll try the meat again.” Bucky looked down at you in hesitance, remembering the way you looked so sick at the approach of his food. Nevertheless, he brought the food back up to your mouth, and you had to fight the inner battle to not throw up now and then. He could see your struggles, yet he only focused on your determination. 

You chewed slowly so as to not upset your stomach further, giving Bucky the time he needed for him to get a taste of his own meal as well. Sure, the cut was barely enough for a man of his size but at least he’d get you to eat, he could always go out and get some more once you were satiated. His hand that wasn’t busy feeding the both of you was still glued to your back, keeping you flushed against his chest as he sat legs crossed amongst the many blankets. 

You couldn’t help with the way your heart soared at his worry, at his care, and at his love. Sure he wasn’t the most verbally expressive man, but his actions meant more to you than any I-Love-Yous. The way his fingers curled against your side as a measure of extreme protection had you weak in the knees, and that said a lot considering you weren’t even standing. 

By the time you’d both exhausted whatever food was on his plate, Bucky’s skilled hand worked for water. Grabbing a cup from the side, he sought water from the bucket by your front door. He took a drink first, draining the cup in two quick gulps. You watched as he served himself another cup, a drop of water dribbling past his beardy chin and onto the defined curve of his Adam's apple. 

Fuck and if he didn’t just look so hot, you’d really gotten the finest pick of all men in your village. You lifted an unsuspecting hand up to his cheek, the prickly feeling of his beard against your palm made a shiver run down your spine. So much for all the days he’d spent buried between your legs, you felt a ghost of the burn you’d feel on your inner thighs at the friction everytime. 

The sounds of water sloshing around brought you out of your daydreams, finally receiving the end of the cup as he lifted the edge to your lips. You liked everything about this, getting pampered while laying in your husband's arms. You couldn’t possibly have gotten two sips down your throat before-

“Maybe I should call the midwife to check on you tomorrow.” Bucky randomly blurted out, and you swore you’d never accidently taken a gulp of water this big before. The choking came first, then the excessive coughing fits before the headache resurfaced again. Now maybe you’d rethought everything, maybe you didn’t want to spend the rest of the night with Bucky anymore. 

His hands quickly abandoned the cup to rub at your back, some silent apology of some sorts for surprising you, and eventually causing you to choke. 

“You don’t think…” you looked up at your husband after you had calmed down, expectant baby blue iris staring right back at yours. Your lips were slightly parted in the confoundment of his words, you found yourself unable to speak past your sentence. You didn’t know any contraceptives further than a remedy of herbs, spells and whatnot the untrustworthy pull-out method. Yet even if  Bucky had been very obedient when it came to following that way, there were some days where he just couldn’t help himself.

His silence made you sigh to yourself, but you didn’t feel like speaking further yourself. The hut fell into a peaceful silence as you both wallowed in the other's presence, soaking each other's affection through soft touches and occasional prayers.You closed your eyes once more for the night, allowing yourself to fully sink into your husband’s burly arms.

Bucky didn’t complain, waiting for your shoulders to fall limp in indication that you’d finally submitted to the slumber you so craved. Now that you were sleeping, tucked and fed, he could finally go out and reach for a serving more appropriate for a man of his size. Though he staggered for a second, kneeling besides your sleeping form along the blankets that he’d arranged over you. 

He moved the blanket properly after noticing that you’d already managed to mess up the ‘bed’ despite being dreams deep into your sleep. Bucky allowed his hand to hover over your stomach, before providing extra heat to the area that crossed his palm. He watched as your lips twitched into a smile in your sleep, his thumb uncontrollably caressing at the clothed area at the sight of your delight. 

A rare smile tugged at the corner of Bucky’s lips, something that only you and his family had gotten to experience more often. His hand left your stomach as he rose to his feet, a distant dream of an infant swaddled by green cloth burning by the back of his mind. He didn’t turn back as he left the tent, stomach empty but heart full. 

-

i’m working on 2 requests rn but i’ll be busy all weekend so expect a fic by next friday‼️

[reallyromealone]

Title: Tokyo host club 4

Fandom: Tokyo revengers, ohshc

Characters: ohshc cast, Tokyo revengers cast, misc no names

Fic type: fluff, omegaverse

Pairings: mitsukuni x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, Omega male reader, fluff, omegaverse, soulmate au, fated mates

Notes:

Summary:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"what are they doing here?"

Shinichiros voice cut through the tension and the rest of the host club watched curiously, mitsukuni standing up straight and dropping his host club persona and just being his sweet and kind self "hello, my name is mitsukuni and I'm here to ask for the honor to court your brother" the air was still, Shin just dead staring him and that's when the sound of motorcycles could be heard.

Tamaki yelped when he saw the two bikes drive in, Mikey and Draken parking beside wakasas bike and immediately picked up on the energy "(name), why are all your friends bikers?! Are they crooks?" Tamaki whispered at the Omega who looked at him and simply said "mind your business" with a sweet smile and the blond blanched at his words and Mikey looked at (name) with a look the Omega understood immediately, walking from Takashi and Izana who went to Shinichiros side. "Whose this?" He asked his brother who huffed "hes my fated mate" (name) gently fixed his baby brothers hair and the blond tried to swat his hand "can he fight?" Mikey asked his elder sibling who nodded "top class fighter apparently"

"I see" Draken leaned back and watched the blond walk up to Shinichiro and whispered into his ear and the black haired man hummed "beat Mikey in a fight and you can court him, can't have a weak shit be with my brother" Tamaki wanted to argue, the blond seeing this as barbaric frankly but Mitsukuni was a traditionalist at heart with certain things.

He understood why the Sanos were protective, it didn't take a genius to see why they didn't want someone weak to be with (name), money or not the Sanos clearly did shit that was less than legal.

And (name) was a good person, he was trying to be better and do better.

"Ok!" Mitsukuni smiled and wakasa mumbled something about him being a dead man walking and Mikey smiled at the fellow short blond, liking his confidence but was a bit cocky in himself.

(Name) Sat beside Draken who looked at him worried "you good?" He asked the Omega who shrugged "I'm gonna be friends with him first... Can't date a guy you don't know, right?" He looked to him and Draken snorted "he any good at fighting?"

"His family owns those fancy dojos so I assume"

"Mikey may actually have a worthy opponent then"

The group went back to the dojo, it was a formal occasion and deserved a proper place and everyone sat around while Mikey and Mitsukuni stood at opposite ends of the dojo.

"FIGHT!" Shinichiro called and the two immediately began fighting, blocking and attacking while kaoru looked amazed and Hikaru a little bored, and haruhi somehow began making small talk with Wakasa who wanted the details and Takeomi stepped out for a smoke.

The two fought for three hours, exhausted yet unwilling and Emma came home by then as (name) and her began ordering dinner with kyoya and Takashi, the blond girl making small talk with her future possible in law and (name) apologized to kyoya who sighed "getting Tamaki to not drag people his nonsense is impossible and god forbid he mind his business" Tamaki looked betrayed at the words and even moreso when (name) agreed.

The two fighters were heaving, exhausted and barely able to stand but neither would give up "you give up?" Mikey gasped and Mitsukuni shook his head with a determined smile "not a chance"

"Do you actually want this (name)?" Emma asked her big brother who shrugged "I mean, he seems nice?" (Name) Said honestly and the beta girl sighed "that's a terrible reason, good luck to him honestly"

(Name) Didn't get why the host club was so fixated on this, it wasn't their business after all but be didn't really get much of a day "don't worry Emma, I'm a modern Omega with modern values, I'm not just gonna run away into the sunset" Emma seemed pleased at this and went to go call the restaurant on Takashis card, the Alpha mumbling something about an inconvenience to the Sano family for all this.

And then the two dropped like a sack of potatoes.

"Well that wasn't how I expected it to go but... I guess he can see (name)?" Shinichiro just wanted this to be done with at that point, having gone through four cigarettes already and was bored-- plus he had shit to do.

"(Name), if they do any weird shit you tell me" the eldest said pointedly and (name) nodded with a salute and the Alpha gave the blond a look before going to help Emma grab dinner.

-

Mikey and Hunni eventually woke up, (name) barely sparing them a glance while he worked on his homework and a school project on his used laptop. "Good morning sleepy heads" (name) teased but didn't spare a thought to the middle finger his brother gave "I totally won" Mikey said and Hunni looked at him with a cute smile and a flowery air to him "nu-uh! I won that~♡" his voice sugary and sweet but the Alpha had an air to him.

"You both fought so pretty, now stop this" (name) mumbled "the rest of the host club besides Takashi left..." He looked at the two with a bored expression "also Mikey, don't you have a meeting soon?"

And that's all that it took for Mikey to vacate the room.

"I wanna be friends before we actually... Well date? Court?" (Name) Wasn't sure what they would be since they're relationship was predestined.

"I want to get to know you too, honestly it was a little scary-- the idea of just rushing into this with a stranger" mitsukuni said honestly with a sweet smile, wandering over and plopping beside (name), pleased to see Usa-chan sitting on the table "I hope you don't mind, I moved him for you so he didn't get knocked over" (name) explained casually and Mitsukuni smiled with a look of relief.

Mitsukuni though a bit more serious given the situation, was still sweet and cheerful while he hung out with (name) that afternoon and evening and chatting away about the host club and how he's so good at martial arts.

"My grandfather actually owns this dojo, my family has run a small martial arts dojo class for three generations" (name) explained "he taught all of us self defense though my brothers Mikey and Izana were the ones who really got into it and my brother Shin just sucks at fighting"

"HEARD THAT!"

"GOOD!" (name) Yelled back and the Alpha beside him smiled at the sibling bond the Omega had with the other members of his family "do you have any siblings?" (Name) Asked mitsukuni who grinned "I have a little brother in middle school!" Pulling out his wallet he showed a picture of his family and (name) smiled "he seems lovely" (name) complimented and Mitsukuni beamed "he's a bit rough around the edges but he's great!"

When it was time for mitsukuni to leave, (name) and him stood a little awkwardly before (name) offered his hand "wanna hang out after club tomorrow?" He asked and the blond grinned and enthusiastically shook his hand "it's a date!"

(Name) Would be a liar if he he denied having a goofy little grin when walking back into the house, that grin going away when Izana and Shinichiro made kissy noises at him "shut up!" (Name) Groaned and went to his room to finish his project.

-

Despite wanting to start as friends, Mitsukuni ever the gentleman still gave courting gifts.

(Name) Was a little stunned at the expensive took kit, leagues nicer than the one he kept at the club (which was a hand me down from Shinichiro) "I-I- this is way to expensive!" (Name) Looked stressed, how could he return a courting gifts when this was the standard! Sure he had money from his online chess stuff and helping shin but nowhere near enough to be able to match this!

"If I'm gonna be your alpha, I gotta show I can provide!" Mitsukuni said cutely, hands on his hips and Usa-chan in his fist "if you wanna give me something back, that would be great but don't feel like you gotta, Kay!" Clearly he was in host club mode, the girls cooing and awing at him and (name) sweated a bit but nodded "thanks... I guess?"

"Alrighty! See ya!"

And with that (name) was left to figure out what he was going to get him back.

Walking to his club, the other club members whistled at the fancy tools "damn, that's a fine wrench" a member said looking at the shiny tool and (name) nodded "hey so you're a genius or whatever, right?" Another club member asked and (name) nodded hesitantly "genius feels like an overkill word but yeah, I'm smart"

"Can you tutor me?! I'm failing math and if I fail I can't be in the club and my dad will be pissed!"

(Name) Sighed and looked at him "fine but you bring food, I'll text my address and you show up on the weekend, deal?"

"Thank you!"

"And, you gotta help me figure out what's a good gift to give back to haninozuka" (name) said seriously and the Alpha groaned "fiiine!"

"Bake for him?"

"I can't trust cake foods to last with my brother's nearby, they don't particularly like him" (name) explained and the others hummed "maybe make him something? Doesn't he like cute Omega stuff?"

"And what's cute Omega stuff?" (Name) Looked at him and the club member dug his own grave "u-uh"

"More traditional stuff, be real (name) you would have mistaken him for an Omega if you hadn't known" (name) looked at the club president with a smirk "and let's be double real, you aren't exactly a traditional Omega, thought you were a beta or a host club alpha type" the president continued, his words were true though.

(Name) Didn't fit the Omega category really, having been raised by alphas and a beta he didn't have an Omega to learn from and stood out compared to the omegas at Ouran who were delicate and pretty where (name) was scrappy and wasn't afraid to fight someone and getting dirty.

"Is that a bad thing?" (Name) Asked the older alpha who shook his head "not at all, if anything it makes you less intimidating"

"Hey I'm plenty intimidating!"

"You're like an angry corgi!"

The club all laughed and a member looked like he had an idea "go to the crafts club! They do this stuff all the time plus they're all omegas!"

"The craft club?"

"Yeah it's in the south wing by the rose gardens!"

-

(Name) Was thankful his president let him leave super early, going to the craft club and hesitantly knocking on the door.

An Omega boy opened the door, a cute face and very stereotypical Omega apperance.

(Name) Already felt out of place.

"Hi! What can we do you for?" The club members seemed curious and (name) let out a small sigh "I need help-- I was told you guys are really good with helping with courting gifts? I know you guys are probably bu--""hey! Don't worry!" A male Omega walked up to him "were more than happy to help" the club member spoke and the other nodded happily.

(Name) Felt relief flood through him and the other omegas brought them into their circle "you're in the auto club right?" One Omega asked and (name) nodded tentatively "you got in on scholarship? Never heard of an Omega getting in especially with those grades "a girl spoke and (name) seemed a bit uncomfortable "good on you, most omegas get kind of pushed into these clubs-- I mean I love this club but it's kind of expected of us so good on you for doing what you like"

"Thanks I guess..."

"So tell us about his Alpha you're trying to court!" The president gushed "is he dreamy?"

"We actually just met... We're fated mates"

"You're not messing with us?"

"No?"

"Who?! Does he go here!?" The group crouded (name) "is he good to you? We Omegas have each other's back, you let me know!" (Name) Chuckled at how accepting they were off the bat and didn't know what to do with all this "he does go here, he's in the host club---""the host club?! Who?!" They all looked really interested now "mitsukuni--""hunni-senpai?!"

"U-uh, yeah-- he got me a really nice tool kit and I'm trying to make him something he likes, he likes cute stuff so I thought I could make him something cute"

The club members thought for a moment before realizing "maybe you could crochet USA-chan a sweater or something!"

"Crochet?"

"Yeah, it's super easy don't worry!"

When (name) left the club, he had new numbers in his phone and yarn along with some newfound knowledge.

Now he just needed to make a perfect courting gift for the Alpha.

Which would be easy, right?

When club hours were closed, (name) waited by the side of the school near the gardens for mitsukuni while texting Shinichiro, the Alpha letting (name) know be would be gone for the night.

"What's a cutie like you doing out here?" A voice called out and (name) lazily looked up to see a second year alpha strut towards him "I'm waiting for someone?" (Name) Responded with disinterest, eyes cutting into the other and sat up to inspect him.

"You mind some company?" The Alpha asked with a smirk and (name) sighed "not particularly but I can't stop you from being here" (name) returned to his phone but kept an eye on him from the bench he was seated on. (Name) Wanted to scream when the Alpha sat beside him, stretching and leaning back a bit "hey, aren't you the Omega who went into heat recently?" The Alpha got real close to (name), sniffing at him as if to try and smell any lingering heat and (name) immediately pulled away, glaring at him "get the fuck away from me." (Name) Snapped, moving away from him but the Alpha wasn't deterred and tried to get closer, even going as far to touch the Omega.

Mitsukuni was about to step in, his instincts on overdrive and rage coursing through his veins.

Who was touching his mate?

Did he want to die?

(Name) Stood up and began walking away, the Alpha tried to grab him, mitsukuni immediately walking towards them to deliver an ass beating but It wasn't until (name) flipped the Alpha over his shoulder "don't touch me!" He snapped and looked a bit shaken, before raising his eyes and making eye contact with the blond "oh hey" he said awkwardly "(name), you can fight?!" Mitsukuni ran over and practically jumped on the other alpha who wheezed in pain "my grandpa taught me self defence 'the world ain't made for omegas, so you gotta fight back' was something he often told me" (name) rambled a bit.

"My mate is so cool!" Mitsukuni took (name)s hands and swayed them sweetly "you're literally a martial arts Master, I hardly think me flipping people is anything to gawk at" he mumbled, looking away flustered and a bit embarrassed at the situation, praise always made him uncomfortable.

"A-anyways, you still wanna go on that date?" (Name) Asked shyly and Mitsukuni almost forgot about the Alpha who harassed his omega.

Almost.

He would handle that later.

"Let's go! I have such a fun date for us!"

[hyunjins3rdleg]

🍸 What’s Your Poison?🍸

Hi,I’m AJay! Nice to meet you,honey🩷

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*Request🔒:fake text(predominately),drabbles,au prompts,etc(I have more time for shorter fics)

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**MDNI & SFW Rules**

Minors(16+)are free to interact with my blog as long as you keep it cute & appropriate.

*SFW* Fics are safe for the younger stays and will usually only have profanity listed as the main warning.

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Keep it cute or get blocked <3

Angst⛈️/🌩️; Fluff🧸; Smut/Suggestive🔥

FWB!Hyunjin Text Series 🧸⛈️🔥 (MDNI)

A late night text accidentally sent to one of the artist you’re working with leads to a half a year long agreement and Hyunjin wants more…

(fwb to lovers)(IdolxMusic Producer!Reader)

Fix Your Face, Please! 🧸🌩️ (MDNI)

Hyunjin’s very vocal about how jealous & possessive he can get, and although it can get troublesome you find it kind of hot…

We Were On Break!! 🌩️🧸 (SFW)

Your ex boyfriend, Hyunjin, has a hard time accepting the end of your relationship and is very persistent on getting back together…

Corporate Gang 🧸 (MDNI)

JYP Co. gets a new IT-Agent and you can’t help but gush about him to your favorite coworkers…

(Nerdy,shy!Hyunjin Series)

Take Your Friends Out ⛈️🧸 (pt.1 ) (MDNI)

Your boyfriend has stood you up 3x this month and you decide that you’re done with being second place. Of course he disagrees…

Don’t Say That To Me ⛈️ (pt 2.) (MDNI)

Months after you took Hyunjin back you have to face the tough reality of falling out of love with him and end things for good…

Stress Induced Fever 🧸 (SFW)

Your job has decided to transfer you to their USA branch for a year and Hyunjin is failing miserably at holding himself together before you leave…

Sad Nudes? 🧸 (MDNI)

You’ve had a shit day and Hyunjin tries his best to cheer you up thousands of miles away…

I Love You. Now Date Me! 🧸🌩️ (SFW)

Your bestfriend has been jokingly telling you he’s in love with you for years only for you to find out it’s not a joke…and oh yeah, he HATES your boyfriend…

Babe, I Broke It 🧸 (SFW)

Hyunjin broke your brand new coffee mug and he’s taking it harder than you are (soft bbyboy)…

I Really Like You, Like Romantically 🔥🧸(MDNI)

Your best friend asks you for an insane favor of helping him lose his virginity and discovers his feelings in the process…

I Will Win! Fighting!🔥🧸 (MDNI)

You and Hyunjin make a friendly bet to survive No Nut November and despite his persistent confidence on winning, he eventually gives in…

Emergency Contact ⛈️ (SFW)

You and Hyunjin had a mutual breakup over a year ago, but apparently he forgot to remove you as his emergency contact and feelings are revisted…

Safe,Loved,& Accepted ⛈️ (SFW)

Bang Chan has been making light of the nasty comments you’ve been getting online until you are put in a sticky situation and he’s worried sick a thousand of miles away…

Have You Always Been This Hot?? 🔥🧸 (MDNI)

Attempting to survive No Nut November with your best friend Chan brings forth feelings neither of you knew existed…and really good sex…

I Just Want To Help ⛈️ (SFW)

Your ex Hyunjin takes it upon himself to help you with financial difficulties after months of no contact, but he never expected you to fight him every step of the way…

Wanna See It Up Close? 🔥🧸 (MDNI)

You always jokingly try to convince your best friend to get laid and he jokingly tells you to take his virginity (except it’s not a joke)…

I Hate You. All Of You. 🌩️ (SFW)

A sneaky picture brings your relationship and trust crashing down and he refuses to let it all go over a stupid misunderstanding….

Keeping Secrets 🌩️ (SFW)

Felix’s antics leaves Hyunjin an over dramatic mess and it takes an entire week before he confronts you about the secret you’ve been hiding…

Is This A Trick Question? 🌩️🧸 (SFW)

It’s not a secret that Hyunjin’s perusing you romantically, but despite returning his feelings your past relationship holds you back. Little did you know Hyunjin was just what you needed to try at love again…

Model!Hyunjin Text Series 🧸🔥(SFW/MDNI)

At the height of his career, Hwang Hyunjin goes down the road nearly every 24 year old with fame in the public eye does - sex, money, and rebellion. You accepted a job set up by his parents to get his reputation and career back on track, and you’ve known no peace since thanks to your very clingy (and unashamedly in love) client…

(ModelxAssistant!Reader)(grumpy gf,sunshine bf)

I’m Gonna Ride You. 🔥🧸 (MDNI)

Your friends thought it would be funny to hack into your phone to prank Hyunjin while you’re in the bathroom. Unfortunately, this little prank would lead to one of the most embarrassing (amazing?) nights of his life…

[wri0thesley]

my heart a frozen thing (I of III)- capitano x reader

the tsaritsa's handmaidens are enviable indeed; perfect, chaste, and honoured beyond measure. a well-oiled machine. but you do not quite fit in. lucky, then, that the tsaritsa herself has intervened, to find you a position that befits who you once were - to arrange your marriage to one of her most trusted lieutenants.

cw: arranged marriage, mentions of death/freezing to death, corpses, weird religious themes, bullying. reader is referred to as a 'handmaiden', wears a gown, but no pronouns are used. wc: 5.4k. sfw.

a/n: capitano and his little handmaiden are a little thing i've wanted to explore for a while; i don't usually do series, but i have a very clear idea of where this is going and i hope i can get it there! in my head this ought to run to three parts, but here is the first! i had a lot of fun just making up background for this honestly fbgnkjgbfn.

i.

The halls of Zapolyarny Palace have never felt so cold. 

They are halls that you have walked a thousand times, at the behest of your Goddess; chambers that you have traversed for as long as you can remember. You learnt yourself here - so much so that the person you once were, the family you once had . . . that has faded to nothing. You have been a ward of the Tsaritsa since you were six years old, and you would not have had it any other way. 

After all - are you not one step down from divinity? Do you not follow in her wake, untouchable and lovely? Do you not provide her with anything she could need? You see the Fatui members who walk these halls, the Harbingers - their hands are stained with blood up to the elbows, their figures stooped from war, their faces twisted with their troubles. They have clawed their way up the ranks -

And you? You have done no such thing. Something about you had called out to the Tsaritsa and she had welcomed you to her bosom and you had accepted, allowing yourself to be draped in furs and glittering crystals, to stand proud and haughty, to kneel for her and ensure her skirts are never dirtied, her every whim is met . . . 

Until today, you suppose. 

Her lips had felt like ice when she had kissed you on your forehead, and you had known then that you would walk from her chambers freezing cold and stripped of everything you held dear. You have always known that your fellow handmaidens did not like you; that they had envied you the Tsaritsa’s favour, that they have whispered that you are unworthy. Such things are easy to ignore when you know that you are cherished, though - and you had ignored them. You had ignored how they had ripped holes in your stockings and sent you on wild goose chases and errands, how they whispered behind your back when you fell into formation looking harried and rushed and imperfect because you had not been able to find your hairbrush in the morning. 

But the handmaidens of the Tsaritsa are supposed to be a unit. You are all supposed to see one another as siblings; to think of nothing more than Her, and how you may serve Her. It is this that the Tsaritsa had said to you in your private meeting, as you had shivered and burned with the cold ice of humiliation. 

“I love you,” she had said, with her voice as lovely as shattering crystals, as she had pressed that traitorous kiss onto your forehead. “Do not worry, little one. I shall ensure that you will not be thrown to the wolves.”

And then she had told you exactly how she was ensuring that, and you had had no choice but to stand before her, trembling, chin jutting proudly up - and pretend that you agreed with her decision. 

There is nobody in the dormitory when you go to pack what little things you have; you are glad of that, at least, so that those who have brought you down to this station in life cannot gloat at you. You do not have many things of your own; of course, the handmaidens are given fine clothes, but they are more uniform than ordinary wardrobe. You pack your hairbrush, a book, a few other creature comforts - but you are supposed to be a homogenous unit, after all, and to make yourself too individual would simply not do. 

One of the Tsaritsa’s servants is waiting outside of the door for you when you emerge. You shiver in the cool air, but try to keep a thread of your calm; give her a trembling smile. She looks at you with curiosity in her gaze, but she does not pry; that is not the way of things here. You soon lose track of where she is taking you.

In Zapolyarny Palace, there are paths that you walk every day; to the chapel, to the Tsaritsa’s chambers, to the hallowed halls and meeting rooms and anywhere else a handmaiden may be needed. But you do not wander freely beyond that. You know there are offices and spare bedrooms and studies and libraries galore - it is a most magnificent work of architecture - but you are not at liberty to explore them. So you soon lose your bearing as the servant brings you through hallways you’ve never seen, past doors you never knew existed. You feel your heart begin to beat too fast in your chest, anxiety crawling up your throat. 

You do not know what is to happen to you now. 

You know in theory what the Tsaritsa expects to happen, and you ought to believe her - find her infallible, as your Goddess and Archon surely is - but you have learnt, today, that nothing is infallible. You do not think any handmaiden in the history of Her Majesty’s service has ever been let go like you - and, too, you know none of them have suffered the humiliation of being--

You can barely even think the words. You think of the first Harbinger again, the one directly beneath the Director; the looming presence, the always-worn mask, the whispers that follow in his wake . . . you cannot imagine yourself on his arm. Cannot imagine yourself in his bed. Cannot imagine yourself standing beside him at an altar, promising him eternity--

“We’re here.” The servant’s voice is timid; even though she must surely know that you are disgraced, there is still - in your bearing and in the fine white furs and silks you wear - the reminder of what you were before disgrace came knocking at your door, and she has been taught that the Tsaritsa’s handmaidens are pure and perfect and precious. How you wish you felt that way. 

“Thank you,” you say to her, swallowing to try and clear the dryness in your throat, trying to summon a smile. She bobs an awkward curtsey and inclines her head before she scurries away down the corridor, no doubt to whisper to someone about the scandal that is unfolding within the palace’s halls. 

You look at the door to your new life. It is carved with swirling snowflakes; a solid impenetrable wooden shield from the rest of the palace. You do not know if it will stay your door, but you have nowhere else to go now. You cannot go running back to the dormitory of the handmaidens; surely, by now, they will all have been told exactly how you have been disgraced--

Your gloved fingers fasten about the doorknob as you force your traitorous heart to beat evenly. You must take things as they come; there is no point getting too frightened just yet. Some of the Harbingers do indeed keep quarters in the Palace - Pantalone, you know, has a wing set aside for his use. And Pulcinella, too, needing to be near the beating heart of Snezhnaya, has rooms here. 

It is in the nature of a handmaiden, you remind yourself, to be calm. To keep their wits about them. It is proper of you to maintain an even voice and a pretty face, to be ready to be called to your service at a moment’s notice; and though you are not, really, a handmaiden any more . . . your entire life has been governed by these rules, and such things do not desert one so easily. So you keep your head held high as you step into the room, your chin jutting out, your eyes wide, your face proud--

And you do not let the tears fall, like your life is collapsing into the sea around you and leaving you adrift with no safe harbour (your beautifully designed ice sculpture of an existence), until the door is closed and nobody but you and the sharp coldness of the mirror mounted on the wall opposite is there to see it. 

ii.

You are expecting to be brought before him, as would befit a man of his status - a status that now far outranks your own. You are expecting Fatui grunts or serving maids to come and fetch you from the neatly appointed little room of the Palace, to drag you before the Harbinger you are to become reliant upon, and to have every part of you scrutinised. Perhaps he will find you wanting, you think bitterly; perhaps he does not want to be a part of this mockery any more than you do. Perhaps he will snarl beneath the mask and despite the Tsaritsa’s attempts to save your life, will have you banished to some cold unfeeling corner of the Palace where you will freeze to death and nobody will find your corpse. 

(It would hardly be the first time such a thing has occurred in Snezhnaya). 

You are not expecting that the first of the Fatui Harbinger, he of the war glories, second only in the chain of command to the Director himself, would lower himself to come to you. 

But come to you he does. 

The room that you have been given is lovely if impersonal; a bedspread patterned with sprigs of blue flowers, an ornate mirror, a wardrobe and a shelf of knick-knacks. You, as a handmaiden, have never had cause to tend to the guest rooms - that is for those whose service is less important, whose place in the world is less holy - but you do at least know enough to know that is what this is. And you suppose, too, that is what you are now too. 

No longer somebody who truly belongs in the Palace; no longer one of a flock of beautiful befurred doves, cooing and twittering over who will be granted the honour of smoothing Her Majesty’s dress, of combing her hair. Simply a guest - a person waiting to see what the next step in their life will be. Perhaps Zapolyarny Palace will be a pitstop; perhaps your new betrothed will have somewhere else to put you like an ornamental doll. 

Perhaps he will take you to his camps, his fields of war, install you in his tent until you have forgotten the luxury of silks and glass and the blood he sheds stains your white furs red. Your nails dig crescent moons into your palms at the thought of it; of all of the ways your life could spiral into decay and dirt when it has only ever been pristine and beautiful before. 

You are sitting on the bed when the knock comes, when the door is opened before you can even call out. You see the faintest outline of some Fatui soldier, before his bulk is silhouetted in the doorway and your breath is robbed from your chest. 

Seeing him pass by you in hallways, or at the table when you have been called to the Tsaritsa’s side, does not do the man justice. He seems to tower over you; his presence in the room makes it seem like a dollhouse more than anything functional. Your eyes flitter, afraid to rest upon him too much lest you see something terrifying staring back at you. 

You cannot describe it, but your entire body seems to go into a freeze response; you sit there, exactly like the ornament you are so afraid of becoming, your gloved hands neatly balled into fists upon the luxurious fabric of your handmaiden’s gown, your eyes wide with surprise and fear.

You expect him to stride in; to take what he has been given, self-assured as only a member of Her Majesty’s most esteemed lieutenant can truly be. Thoughts flash through your head; of him throwing you upon the prettily patterned bedsheets and having his way with you, of him grabbing you roughly and letting his hands explore the merchandise he has been granted. 

Certainly, the visual of him makes those seem the most likely course of action. The massive stature, the shadows that his shoulders throw across the room. The impassive iron mask; the armour that he dons, whether he is on official business or not. Your shoulders draw up against your ears, preparing for something, though you know not what. You catch a glimpse of eyes, bluer than the hottest fire--

And then Il Capitano sinks to one knee in front of you and reaches for your trembling, gloved hand. Your breath catches in your throat as he draws it closer to himself - but then, he presses his mask against the fabric in an echo of a kiss, and from beneath the helmet he wears comes a voice like an echo in an iron chamber. 

“Little handmaiden,” he says - and then, “I regret not coming sooner.” 

“I--” Your tongue will not work around the syllables. It trembles in your mouth; only your willpower alone stops your teeth clacking together like some awful grisly musical instrument. “My Lord Harbinger, I . . .” 

“Do not worry,” he says, his voice still a strange echo - you cannot imagine getting used to it, cannot imagine it whispering words of love into the shell of your ear. You can imagine it, though, booming across a battlefield, and the thought makes your heart seize in your chest. “I have no intention to hurt you. I am . . . most honoured by the privilege that has been entrusted to me.” 

You realise with a start that you are the privilege; that this is punishment for you, but it does not seem so to him. The thought gives you pause. 

Even the word . . . ‘privilege’. He does not call you a reward; does not act as though he has been given you as some Archon-won right, to do with as he pleases. For the first time, you let yourself wonder if perhaps your fate is not to be as cruel as you had feared. 

“Thank you,” you say to him, your voice a thready little mouse-whisper of noise. Capitano does not move from his place before you, kneeling upon the parquet flooring of the room - his hand does not let go of yours for a moment, as if he cannot quite believe that you are real flesh and blood there before him. You cannot properly see his eyes behind the helmet - only that bluefire suggestion, the glow of something behind the ornate visor - but in your time as a handmaiden of the Tsaritsa, you have grown used to the sensation of being looked at, and that is certainly what he is doing. 

“I intend to do this properly.” He tells you, with the door still open, with the Fatui soldiers who had accompanied him still stationed outside of the door listening to every word that he says. “I intend to make you mine in the eyes of the Tsaritsa and everyone else who matters.” 

You think once more of the altar; you think of your uniform of pure white furs, traded for something lacier and gauzier, something more of a wedding gown than a ritual dress. You think of being chained to this man for all eternity--

And though he has been kind to you in these few brief moments, though your Archon had said she wished to see no harm come to you . . . once more, you think of Capitano’s reputation. Of the war fields and the bloodshed, of his victories and his spoils, of the way you have heard he throws himself into conflict like it is the only thing that keeps his blood pumping through his veins. 

But you cannot say a thing. 

“Tomorrow,” he tells you, and he says the word like a sacred thing - a prayer on his breath. “Tomorrow, I will marry you, and I will take you home.”

He does not leave his words in a question; there is no space for you to reply. You swallow your protestations as he stands back up and bows his head like a gentleman, though you know he is stained with blood in a way you had never expected to be yourself. 

(You think of his hand on yours; imagine bloody fingerprints where he had clung to you. Marked. Soiled. No longer pristine and pure; no longer one of the Tsaritsa’s favourites. You stand upon the precipice of becoming something else, and it terrifies you). 

“Tomorrow,” you echo, but the door has already closed behind him. 

iii.

You cannot sleep. 

The bed is fine; finer, perhaps, than the one in your dormitory that you have slept on for decades. The blankets and coverlets, with their pretty patterns, are warm (warmer than you are used to; the handmaidens are kept close to Her Majesty, and coldness permeates the air wherever she dwells. You had not realised just how cold you were used to being until you had slipped into this bed in a guest-room of the place you thought of as your home).

But your mind will not quieten. 

You cannot stop thinking of Capitano, and all that his future entails; cannot stop the whisper of his voice, constrained as it is by his helm, when he says the word ‘home’. What is a home for you, now? At this moment in time, ousted from Her Majesty’s Service and not yet yoked to the first-ranked Harbinger, you are a creature that has nowhere to lay down their roots. 

If you slipped out of this room, and out into the cold Snezhnayan winter . . . you would be another nameless person, another corpse frozen to a block of ice. You have not been out amongst the general populace in some time - that is not a duty that befits one of the handmaidens - but what memories you do have, before six, remind you that you would hardly be the first. Indeed, finding some poor soul frozen into the next life is an occurrence that happens to all citizens of Snezhnaya, eventually. 

A memory rises unbidden to the forefront of your mind; another child, who looks like you but older, concentration writ clear on their face as they try and unbend fingers from a poor man rimmed with frost with lips of pale blue. An older woman, shouting - a sickening snap--

You squeeze your eyes shut and force the memory away. There is nothing, you remind yourself, before the Tsaritsa’s tender care. If there ever was, it has gone the way of snowstorms and blizzards; there is no use remembering. It has been so long that all of the figures in your memories, too, are perhaps no better than markers in the frozen ground. 

If you cannot sleep, you tell yourself forcefully, you are not going to allow yourself to be haunted by nightmares of your own making. You will lie here, in this lovely little room. You will let yourself think of the warmth that seeps into your bones; you will let yourself remember it. 

One final night; the first night you can truly remember where you are free. 

And as for what tomorrow holds - as for the thought of standing beside Capitano, as to the thought of his home - be it tent or wing of rooms or little shack or anything in between - you will not think on them. You will think of how, if you wished, you could toss and turn and no other handmaidens in the dormitory will hiss anger at you beneath their breath. How you could sing in this room, like a pretty bird, and nobody would shout for you to shut up as they throw their pillows at you.How there will be no ringing bell in the morning, no sidelong glances from your fellows who do not think you deserve to play the role you are given. 

There is blissful silence; the luxury of having a bedroom to yourself, of being an individual when you have for so long been an entity made up of so many. 

You do fall into sleep, eventually. 

You dream of being a beautiful white horse, your hooves leaving distinct prints in the snow, blending alone into the barren landscape of your homeland. 

When you awake, there is a dress hanging on the wardrobe opposite the bed. 

You do not question it; how they found time for your measurements, who made it, whether it is Capitano’s design. Your training does not fail you; things happen, and you must accept them. The easy freedom of last night is gone, and the weight of what you are to become settles like a mantle around your shoulders. 

It is still service, you tell yourself, as you bathe in the little basin in the adjoining room. The soaps and potions that are lined neatly up on shelves are scented like something fresh and clean and floral; the kind of flower that makes you think of rolling hills and ticklish breezes. The handmaidens used toiletries scented with spearmint and frostflower, as the Tsaritsa had chosen - you wonder if these bottles here are the choice of your betrothed, or merely coincidence. 

You perform your ablutions and ignore the fact that you are preparing yourself for something you do not fully understand. If you stop to think too hard upon what it is you are primping and preening for, you do not know if you will be able to keep the thread of your calm - as it is, your hands are shaking when you step into the gown left for you. 

It is undoubtedly a wedding gown. 

It is not cut in the Snezhnayan fashion; there is no trimming of pale blue diamonds, of furs or feathers or warmth. This is the gown of a beloved maiden in a tower; something to be worn whilst dreaming of gardens, all pretty eyelet lace and delicate embroidery. Wearing it, after being so used to the garb of one of Her Majesty’s attendants, feels almost like being naked. 

There is nothing for your hair; you leave it unbound. There is no other ornamentation; you suppose, when you think about it, your glimpses of Capitano have never suggested him to be a man of excess. If it were one of the others you were to wed - Pantalone, perhaps - you have no doubt you would be draped in jewels. 

If it were Pantalone that you were to be wed to, you think, he would not have been satisfied with a mere ceremony, rushed through the next day. You know from gossip he is a man who thinks he deserves better than the world has given him, that he would never take less than excess. A brief gladness that it is not the Regrator that your Archon has given you to flashes across your mind--

And then you remember Capitano, the size of him, the mystery of what lays behind his mask, and you swallow the lump in your throat. 

There is a serving maid at the door, holding a bunch of flowers in her hand - they are delicate things, white petalled and lovely, scattered with pink roses. You breathe in the scent to calm yourself and recognise them as the same scent that lingers on your skin and in your hair - and the serving maid gives you a small, nervous smile. 

“They’re Cecilias,” she tells you. “from Mondstadt. The Captain asked for them specifically.” 

She says his name in the same way so many of the citizens of Zapolyarny Palace do; with respect, and reverence. There is none of the fear that edges those who whisper of other Harbingers in her voice - you have heard horror in the tones of those who speak of Dottore, the Doctor . . . But Capitano seems to command awe and respect. You want it to be comforting - but you cannot help but wonder if it is merely that those who know his true nature are quieted by his sword. 

“Thank you,” you say, for you cannot make your voice shape any other words. Your tongue has grown leaden in your mouth, the moisture gone from it completely, and you know the thing that has sapped your ability to speak is fear. She gives you another smile, and looks at you in your gown. 

“You’re beautiful,” she says to you, as if to reassure; perhaps misunderstanding your terror of your bridegroom as the normal nerves of someone about to tie their life to someone else’s in matrimony. The whispers of your dismissal have had time to grow their own stories, after all; few things move faster than gossip in a place like this. “Come. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

You’re helpless to do anything but let her lead you. The hem of your gown trails on the floor behind you, but the Palace is spotless; it does not gather dust or dirt. You pass through the halls like a ghost, and you wonder if that is how you look. 

As a handmaiden, you had moved with purpose, with the assurance that you were Somebody. As the betrothed of a Harbinger, you move like somebody sentenced to execution, your heart pounding in your throat. The halls seem silent around you. You wonder, if given the chance to do it all again, how you would stop all of this so you would not find yourself in this position, walking to what could very well be your own doom. 

“Here,” the serving maid whispers, stopping by a door. You look at it with dumb terror in your heart, but you keep your face an impassive mask as you have been taught to do. You know where you are; you know this chapel to be the Tsaritsa’s most sacred place. You have been given access only a handful of times; the handmaidens who serve your Archon here are far more senior than you. In time, you had hoped you would become one of her most trusted, one who could sit with her in prayer in this private sanctuary--

You suppose that is a dream that will never come to fruition now. 

You give her a smile - a trembling thing, but you have been taught how to behave - and as she opens the chapel door for you, you square your soldiers and summon all of the courage you have (what little there is; courage is not a thing that is encouraged amongst the handmaidens, amongst those who must move and act as one), and you place one foot in front of the other as you begin your walk down the aisle. 

You tell yourself you will not look at the pews - hewn of glass, the more to resemble the Tsaritsa’s beloved ice - but as you begin a walk that feels as though it lasts forever, you cannot help it. The chapel is still a sanctuary; it is almost empty, in fact, but for a few faces sitting at the very front. 

The Tsaritsa herself presides, and you immediately lower your eyes to the ground. You have seen her before, of course - have tended to her when called - but it would not be proper of you to stare. She is still your Archon. Your fingers tremble where they are wrapped around your bouquet. 

Capitano stands, as patient and as still as a massive statue, at the altar. He is dressed still in his armour; the only concession he has made to the idea of a wedding is a buttonhole tucked into his chest, of matching roses and Cecilias to your own. You can see that burning bluefire from across the room, and as you walk closer and closer to it you are hit by the urge to laugh at the thought that perhaps you are simply walking into hellfire. 

And a few other familiar faces fill the first row; that is Pierro, you know. The Director. He sits ramrod straight, the second-largest man in the room, his cloak serving to highlight the severe lines of his face. There is The Knave, too - in her beautifully-cut suit. There is the smallest smile playing on her lips, as she looks from you to Capitano and back again. 

Not all of the Harbingers have come to see this spectacle - you are silently glad of the absence of the Doctor - but there are enough there that you feel sweat prickle down your spine, gathering in the small of your back. You force yourself to swallow and to breathe. This chapel’s aisle has never felt so long before. 

But even though it feels as though the aisle will never end, end it does - too soon, too quickly, and you are at the end of your last walk as somebody free and unmarried. You are standing beside Capitano, ready to pledge yourself to him as your Archon has demanded you do. 

You wonder if he is smiling beneath the helmet. Your own face, you’re sure, must have the look of a deer staring down a bow and arrow; wide, frightened, terribly aware suddenly of its own mortality. But there is nothing a doe can do when she is a hunter’s quarry, and there is nothing you can do now either. 

So you say the words, after they issue forth from the Tsaritsa’s lovely voice and she commands you to repeat them. You listen to Capitano make the same oaths, his voice still a strange echo. You do not hear them, not really - but it does not matter, because they are binding in the eyes of your Archon and it is your Archon who has witnessed them being said. 

Your hand is shaking when Capitano takes it to slide the ring upon it. It is plain, too; a silver band, etched all over with some decorative scrollwork and words in a language you do not understand. 

You have never seen a marriage. The handmaidens do not do such things - they are chaste, and pure, and when they are done with the service of the Tsaritsa they remain so even when cast back to the powdery snow. But you have read books, and you know that a marriage usually ends with a kiss; a sealing of the pact that two people who love one another have made. 

You steel yourself, then, to see below Capitano’s mask. You try not to dwell on possibility; the idea of him being monstrous or disfigured or perhaps even just perfectly ordinary. You try to prepare yourself for the feel of another’s lips upon yours. 

But the Tsaritsa never decrees that it is time for Capitano to kiss his spoils. 

Indeed, Capitano takes your hand - his own like a massive claw, yours delicate and tender in his grip - and leads you back down the aisle. He does not look at you as he does it; but you have the strangest sensation that he is . . . uncomfortable, with the way that everyone is looking at him. That such pomp and circumstance is perhaps not something he would generally choose. 

In fact, when the door closes behind you - when you and he are briefly, briefly, briefly along in the corridor . . . something in him seems to unknot. He lets forth a rattling breath, his shoulders sagging just a touch, that would perhaps be invisible to any other eyes but the eyes of a frightened, lonely little mortwal who has been torn from what they thought was their purpose in life and thrown to the whims of somebody that may yet be a monster. 

“Little handmaiden,” he rumbles, from somewhere low in his chest, and you wonder if it is indeed relief that makes his tone seem almost comforting. “The formalities are done with. You are mine, and I am yours.”

He tilts his helmet, and that bluefire burning behind the visor finds your own eyes; almost imperceptibly, perhaps because he sees the terror in your gaze, he seems to soften at the edges. 

Hesitantly, he reaches out a gloved hand; just as hesitantly, he cups your face, the metal cool against the softness of your cheeks. He turns your face towards him, with a grip that you expect to be rough and possessive but is as gentle as the first layer of snow upon a shooting leaf. 

“Let’s go home,” he says. 

Home brings to mind your dormitory; the identical rows of beds, the identically dressed handmaidens, the comfort of routine. Home whispers in the back of your mind of something cooking in the oven, of a rowdy family gathered around a battered old table, of three children older than you and three children younger than you. 

You cannot return to either of those places. 

So all you can do, then, is smile for the man who could be captor or lover or liberator, but is now, inarguably, your husband. 

And let him lead you home. 

[kneecapsbelong2me]

Not A Boy (still a threat)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x sibling!Reader, Kate Bishop x Maximoff!Reader (no pronouns used)

Summary: Wanda catches you with Kate. Protective big sister mode activated.

Word Count: ~700

Content Warnings: perceived homophobia (but not actual homophobia)

A/N: Happy pride! No pronouns are used for reader, but reader comes out to Wanda as sapphic.

Translation: злато = gold

———————————————————————

Wanda is extremely protective of you, since you’re the youngest Maximoff sibling.

You’ve never even expressed romantic interest in anyone to her, but she still threatens to go after any hypothetical boy who breaks your heart.

So, obviously, you don’t tell your big sister that you have a girlfriend.

Especially not that said girlfriend is your fellow Avenger, Kate Bishop.

You and Kate have been doing a good job hiding your relationship from her for the past eight months.

Wanda will find out eventually, but hopefully not until a wedding invitation arrives for her in the mail.

It’s a lot of sneaking around and going behind her back, but it’s better than Wanda eviscerating Kate.

Kate’s in your room one day, door locked. You aren’t doing anything particularly scandalous, cuddling in bed and exchanging the occasional kiss. Your legs are intertwined, and you’ve never felt safer than in her arms. Kate kisses your nose and you giggle.

“Злато, are you in there?”

Immediately you and Kate go silent. Wanda waits for a moment before calling out again.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Silently, you and Kate agree to pretend you aren’t here.

“I know you’re in here, злато.”

Uh oh, so much for that plan.

“Just open the door. I know you’re hiding that boy of yours in there.”

“There are no boys in here, Wands. Cross my heart.”

She growls. “That’s it. I’m coming in.”

She overrides your lock, and you curse yourself for not putting your usual privacy measures in place. Kate scrambles away from you in panic, but Wanda is already inside.

“Where is h—Kate?!”

“Uh, hey, Wanda.” Kate waves awkwardly. “I’m gonna go.” She looks at you and you nod. “Great! Bye!”

Wanda glares at Kate as she flees, but doesn’t stop her. She turns her glare to you.

You look anywhere but at Wanda and shrug. “Hey, Kate’s not a boy.”

“How long have you been lying to me?”

“Lying?” you’re offended. “I haven’t been lying to you, Wanda,” you scoff.

“So what? You’ve just been seeing that girl behind my back?”

The way she says it, the way she refuses to even say Kate’s name, makes your blood curdle.

“You would’ve preferred it if I had been hooking up with some random boy.” You say it as a statement, not a question

“Over Kate? Probably.” She crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow like this is the obvious answer.

“Well, I’m sorry we can’t all be happy in sad, heterosexual relationships with toasters who have the same stone powers as us.”

“Is that what you think this is about?” Wanda softens suddenly. “You think I’m angry because you’re dating a girl?”

You’re still bristling, “what am I supposed to think?”

“That Kate is reckless and impulsive, and if you’re interested in girls there are many safer options.”

“I love her, Wanda. She’s soft and sweet, and she cares so deeply. And maybe she’s reckless, but you can’t pretend you weren’t the same way when you first joined the team.”

Hearing your impassioned speech, Wanda softens further, running a hand over your upper arm. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, злота.”

“I know the risks.” Sighing, you lean into your sister’s touch. “And she’s not the only one who could die. I’m terrified of losing you too, Wanda.”

You can see the fight leave Wanda’s body at your words. She wraps her arms around you. “I’m sorry for reacting so harshly. If Kate makes you happy, I’m happy for you.”

“Even though she’s a girl and an Avenger?” Your voice is muffled by her body. Wanda chuckles,

“Of course it’s okay that she’s a girl. It’s the Avenger part that worries me.”

You hug her back, pulling her close to you. A weight has been lifted off your chest. It feels better now that Wanda knows.

“I will be having a talk with Kate,” Wanda lets you know as a courtesy, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You bury your head further into her and groan. You’ll never be able to escape your sister’s protective instincts.

You wouldn’t have her any other way.

[cumplanecrash]

Almost 1200 words of shizun babies, in which Shen Jiu receives 1d4 Psychic Damage. Twice. Because he's my favorite 😈 ETA because I messed up my counting: this is the first part in-text that the boys fake having fantasy dissociative identity disorder to get away with lying about their identities; right now it's low detail but they'll be continuing to lean into that assumption, especially when Mu Qingfang comes back the next in-universe day.

AO3 🔗 Shizun Babies AU tag 🔗 writeblogging Shizun Babies 🔗 first 🔗 prev

By the time they had returned to the main room, their disciples had been dismissed, presumably after arranging the table to their liking, with two relatively full spreads on the side nearer to their bedroom and a modest spread of teatime portions closer to the guests.

"Shen-shixiong," Mu-shidi started, pausing awkwardly halfway through sitting at the table.

"Shen Yuan," Yue Qingyuan said, pointing (correctly, it should be noted), "and Shen Jiu."

"I see," Mu Qingfang said, coming back to a seated position. "Ah, neither of you should hesitate to tuck in, we can't be sure how thorough a transformation this might be."

"Thorough enough," was all Shen Jiu wanted to say, but then, "that even when it's just the two of us, we're prone to outbursts," followed. He desperately started stuffing his face in the awkwardness that followed.

"So there are aspects that are lessened when it is just the two of you?" Mu-shidi caught on immediately.

"A-Yuan has more freedom to choose his words with just Xiao Jiu," Shen Yuan gracefully jumped in while thumping Shen Jiu on the back in the name of trying to swallow normally. "Names are most consistently affected, but anything appropriate to A-Yuan's real age or rank might be filtered."

"A measure to keep the deception from being discovered," Yue Qingyuan guessed recklessly, ascribing motive the way Shen Jiu has told him not to a thousand times before.

"Don't act like Qi-ge can read minds," Shen Jiu snapped. "Qi-ge wasn't there!"

Yue Qinguan smiled in that sad way he got, and Shen Yuan boggled. He hastily held up a hand to his mouth. "Does Xiao Jiu have some kind of history with the teapot guy?" he whispered far too loud, even before one considered that the people he was trying not to be heard by were high level cultivators.

...

"Huh?" Shen Jiu asked, weakly.

Shen Yuan drank his tea like a shot, blushing hard enough to cook an egg from over where Shen Jiu was sitting. "You know," he said, strangled. "Because he has a compulsive purchasing problem and needs to unload his hoard before they literally fall on his head, so he keeps dropping them on his various shidimei?"

"Hmm," Mu Qingfang said blandly. "I suppose this shidi's gift just got lost in the mail, isn't that so, Yue-shixiong?" He turned a sly smile to the sect leader, elevating him immediately to least unfavorite martial sibling in Shen Jiu's eyes.

"Ah," Yue Qingyuan blushed. "That is to say ..."

As the fellows around the table waited for Yue Qingyuan to finish his thought, their sense of kinship rose as the chances he could come up with an acceptable excuse for lying to Shen Yuan plummeted.

"Is this some kind of workplace harrassment...?" Shen Yuan asked wonderingly, a series of words that Shen Jiu immediately committed to memory. "Should I be reporting this to xianxia HR...?"

"This is what happens when you pretend to know what other people are thinking," Shen Jiu told Yue Qingyuan seriously.

("Wait, that didn't get filtered?" Shen Yuan asked to no one's notice. "Is there xianxia HR I should be worried about?")

Yue Qingyuan's face had completely lost all color, eyes unseeing as he stared above the shrunken Shens' heads.

Shen Jiu sighed. "Qi-ge was just trying to get us to be friends with him again, even though Xiao Jiu was nasty. He's not being wierd." Don't make me say more, not in front of Mu Qingfang; not in front of Qi-ge, it'll break his heart.

"First off," Shen Yuan said, riling himself up again. "Why's Yue-da-ge giving us presents if Xiao Jiu is the one that was nasty? Apologize to Yue-da-ge already! What could he possibly done to warrant any nastiness? He has the personality of an uncooked noodle! And second of all," he turned to Yue Qingyuan, "It's gonna look weird to everyone else if Yue-da-ge isn't giving gifts to everyone like he said, and that's nearly as bad as actually being weird. A-Yuan already has to deal with Shen Qingqiu's reputation from when Xiao Jiu was being nasty to everyone, don't put more targets on my back! I want to live!!"

("Couldn't be me," Shen Jiu muttered, and Yue Qingyuan's eyes focuses sharply on him, but it was Qi-ge, so nothing came of it.)

Mu Qingfang's head tilted to one side. "Wait. Is the split in shixiong's memory and personality a preexisting condition, rather than part of the spell?"

Shen Jiu dismissed the System before it could even get out a syllable. "Of course!"

Shen Yuan nodded fiercely beside him. "Xiao Jiu has always been here, and A-Yuan is here to help!"

"I see," Mu Qingfang said, taking his glasses off to rub at them the way he did when he needed something to strangle that wasn't the patient in front of him. Shen Jiu was intimately familiar with that little routine. "This is information that, as your primary physician, this shidi could have used earlier."

Shen Jiu looked over to find Shen Yuan already looking to him. They turned back to Mu-shidi, shrugging in unison.

Mu Qingfang sighed, using one hand to rub both temples briefly before facing them again. "That actually might be the detail we need to start narrowing down what kind of counterspells and antidotes to try. Interactions with mirrored souls are rare, but fairly well documented when they do happen. A full body transformation, with a verbal censorship component? And your disciples said it was fired as if one spell. This Mu feels confident to begin ... Ah." he stopped, and stared each of them hard in turn as he asked. "Shixiong would have mentioned if there was any other physical symptoms, such as pain or discomfort, right?"

"Nothing that wasn't settled by an early supper," Shen Jiu informed him truthfully. Which, he would have said regardless, but honestly, he felt like a kid again. Ha. Well.

"A-Yuan's meridians are as clear as before the mission, I think," Shen Yuan said. "Honestly, A-Yuan is surprised all this didn't cause Without-a-Cure to flare up."

Fucking what.

"It would be too much to hope that being returned to a form from before Xiao -- " Yue Qingyuan interrupted himself with a cough. "Ah, A-Yuan's poisoning, would undo the poisoning."

"What do you mean Without-a-Cure?" Shen Jiu asked desperately, grabbing Shen Yuan around the shoulders. "What??? How?? Are we dying? How much longer do we have to live? How did I sleep through that?!?"

Shen Yuan shrugged. "A-Yuan was under the impression that he was alone out here, so he did his best."

... Condemning a new soul, wait no, a soul new to this world, to the responsibilities he had earned and fled, had been exceptionally nasty, even for a monster like Shen Jiu, hadn't it. Ouch. "... Sorry, Yuan-ge."

Shen Yuan put his hand on Shen Jiu's shoulder. "As long as Xiao Jiu answers A-Yuan's questions in the future, so that A-Yuan doesn't actually call someone important the teapot guy again, then Xiao Jiu will be forgiven."

"...Fair."

(Mu Qingfang finishes checking their meridians, which he probably should have done when he got there except they had been legitimately famished, without comment.)

Next

[quitealotofsodapop]

Was binging some Hero is Back content, and I just realised that post-story reuniting those babies with their families is gonna be hard work.

Dasheng really wants to go home right now, but these kiddos need to be safely sent to their homes first before he's ready to leave.

They probably need the dragon (called Canglong in the game) to figure out which babies belong to which parents. None of those kids have identifiers on them save for their dudous, and it would be difficult to narrow down which parents had their children openly stolen by trolls and/or simply disappear during the night.

I can see the guys having to bash some troll heads' in to tell them exactly where they got each kid, but seeing how smart the trolls seem to be... scent would most likely be the guiding force.

And that is of course is the trolls didn't just go the easy route and take the babies *without* parents at first...

Canglong: "I cannot find the remaining children's origins." Dasheng, comforting 10+ upset babies: "Eh!? Why Not?" Canglong: "No scent trail." Dasheng, concerned: "Eh? No scent? Then where did the trolls get them from?" Fa Ming: "It would make sense if the Hundun fellow sought young children, he would start by taking children without parents to protect them." Dasheng, realising: "Orphans." (*annoyed tch!*) Zhu Bajie: "What I want to know is who was taking care of them when Hundun was gathering the full hundred?" (*a nervous voice clears their throat. The adults turn to see a small crowd of demons - mountain trolls, boars, bats, and gibbons etc - who were under Hundun's command, all looking sheepish and a little worried. A few of the babies calm down at the sight of them.*) Mountain Troll, shyly: "Excuse me Mr Great Sage sir - can we have our human babies back?" (*all the adults share a look. The dragon sniffs between the remaining children and the demons before nodding affirmatively.*) Zhu Bajie: "Solves that mystery!"

In the game we see quiet a few different demon types, most curiously gibbon-like monkey demons. As the king of primates, SWK seems like the kinda monkey to ask questions about that...

Dasheng: "Why did you throw your lot in with that fiend? Is Mount Huaguo not still a paradise?" Gibbon Demon: "The chaos demon was threatening our cubs, my king. Alolai has been beset by tyrants once more, and many of us have tried gaining allies beyond our borders. Sadly, the Hundun asked for more than we were willing let part with." Dasheng: "And what was that?" Gibbon Demon, warm smile: "Our new cubs." (*the Gibbon demon pulls aside a sling on their chest, revealing two infants. One newborn gibbon demon, and one human toddler, both holding onto one another as if they were birth siblings.*) Dasheng, exasperated, fond chuckle: "Our kind has always been weak to cubs needing a family..." Zhu Bajie, teasing: "So it isn't just you then, eh?" Dasheng: (*is cradling Silly Girl while staying vigilant at Liuer's bedside as the boy heals*) Dasheng, flustered: "Shut up, or I'll make pork buns for dinner."

[dollyzdaydreamz]

Arthur Morgan x Reader Fluff

Sweet Relief

*:･ﾟ✧(✿◡‿◡) short fic for all my fellow pmdd/dysmenorrhea girlies Description: Arthur’s always noticed how much your period takes a toll on you ever since you were a kid. He’s also noticed your chocolate fixation. So when you’re looking miserable again, he figures a bar of chocolate might help. ✿mid-high honor Arthur Morgan ✿platonic/sibling dynamic ✿reader is around 13-15 years younger than Arthur Warnings: period cramps, mention of reader passing out once.

Arthur notices a lot more than people give him credit for. It’s the little things—like how your face used to light up whenever Hosea brought home candy or chocolate from town when you were a kid. Or how, even now, you reach for something sweet whenever you’re shaken, like it might smooth out the edges of a rough day.

Occasionally, you’d stop fooling around camp with John or latching onto Arthur and forcing him to play with you two, instead retreating to your tent for a while. Grimshaw would check in every so often, bringing you a warm pack of water to place on your lower stomach, and Hosea always made sure to buy extra chocolate from the general store during those days.

Arthur remembered the worst of those days, back when you were just around 11 or so and the pain was so unbearable you nearly passed out. That was the first time Dutch got really worried, insisting they bring in a doctor. The old man had just prescribed laudanum and extra rest, brushing it off as something you’d have to endure.

Arthur never forgot how angry that made Hosea—pacing and muttering under his breath about useless doctors and how they needed better care for their own.

On those days, camp felt quieter. Arthur missed you buzzing around, causing trouble, and begging him to play dolls with you—something he always reluctantly complied with, feeling far too old and even a little emasculated.

"Fine—just… quickly," he’d sigh, rolling his eyes as he sat down next to you on the grass, picking up one of the feather-stuffed dolls.

As you grew into your teen years, Arthur realized that these weeks meant heightened tensions, particularly between you and John. The two of you argued like siblings, constantly bickering over the dumbest things, but during this time, it was as if you’d declared an all-out war against him. He’d never forget the time John, in the middle of a particularly heated argument, sneered and asked if you were being such a sore thumb because of your period. Without hesitation, you snapped, lunging at him with murder in your eyes.

"You want me to make you start bleedin’ too?!" you shrieked.

Arthur barely caught you in time, wrapping his arms around your waist and physically dragging you away as you kicked and swore, while he sent a glare at John who stood there looking a little horrified, holding his arms up in surrender. "Alright, alright! Damn!"

This week was one of those weeks. You rarely exited your tent, and when you did, Arthur noticed the lack of color in your face, the slight hunch in your posture, and how you only emerged for some of Pearson’s tasteless stew before sluggishly returning to your tent with a book in hand.

So when he sees you by the fire one evening—book in one hand, the other resting on your stomach, grimacing in pain every so often—he glances around camp, making sure no one's paying attention.

"Here."

Something lands in your lap, and you look down to see a bar of chocolate resting against your book. Your eyes go comically wide before glancing up at him.

Arthur sighs, "Don’t make a big deal out of it, woman. Just had a few spare dollars at the general store, s’all."

You pick it up carefully, like it might vanish if you touch it too fast. Then you suppress a grin. "Well, thank you anyway."

He grunts in acknowledgment as he sits down, pulling a cigarette from his pocket to light it—only for it to be smacked out of his hand.

"What—hey!"

"You don’t need that," you grin, offering him a piece of chocolate, "you know, chocolate can have a calming effect. For me, at least."

"That, or an insufferable sugar high from you that I don't wanna deal with sober." He sighs, already fishing another cigarette from his pocket.

"What, trying to watch your figure?" You snort, earning a small chuckle from the outlaw.

"Just wanted to enjoy it with you, but you’re actin’ like there’s a corset you’re trying to fit into," you mumble, feeling your mood shift suddenly.

Arthur pauses, giving you a glare before reluctantly grabbing the piece of chocolate from your hand and popping it into his mouth. You discreetly scoot a little closer, observing his seemingly unreadable reaction.

"So… how is it?" you ask. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him eat something sweet or...enjoyable before.

"Fine," he mumbles, giving you a sideways glance.

Suddenly, a shadow falls over you. Before you can react, John plops down beside you, snatching the chocolate from your lap with his usual heavy-handedness.

"Where the hell’d you guys get this?" he asks, already breaking off a whole row and stuffing it into his mouth before you can protest.

"John, you fat bastard!" You gasp, smacking his shoulder. "You took half of it!"

John shrugs, chewing loudly. "S’good!"

You snatch the remaining chocolate back with a glare, muttering under your breath before accidentally letting it slip: "Yeah, well, Arthur bought it."

Arthur’s head snaps up from where he’s seated across the fire, giving you a warning look.

John freezes mid-chew, staring at Arthur as though he’s betrayed him, "Hell, you didn’t think to buy me some?"

Arthur narrows his eyes. "Didn’t know I was responsible for feedin’ your sorry ass."

John shakes his head as he stands up, brushing off his pants. "I see how it is."

As he walks off, still muttering, you huff and take another bite of chocolate, savoring it just a little more out of spite. You turn to Arthur,

"That pig!" you grumble before launching into a long, enthusiastic rant about how he’s always taking your things.

Arthur sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I regret every damn thing."

But you see the way his lips twitch, betraying his amusement and somehow, that makes the chocolate taste even sweeter.

Animated divider by @anitalenia Neapolitan divider by @dollywons

[creampill]

skating date 🙏 maybe reader hasn’t a clue how to skate and is hopelessly clinging onto the behemoth of a dork who flawlessly dominates the skating rink

Okay, this is an interesting one because the outcome entirely depends on what type of skating is being had: Ice skating or roller skating? (Long post ahead, you’ve been warned)

If it’s ice skating, then König? He does fine. Growing up in Austria (and, as I headcanon, rurally) he’s had plenty of winters spent on frozen lakes with his siblings. He knows how not to bust his ass. He would have little ice hockey scrimmages with his fellow schoolkids at the little schoolhouse he went to, and he can point to some small, very old scars from unfortunate falls.

If you’re bad at ice skating? He will absolutely take the opportunity to play teacher. When in unfamiliar situations and in public, he tends to get nervous fast, especially in a romantic setting. So it would be much better to get him on a lake, just you and him, wrapped up warm and in skates just like his childhood. He’d hold you by the waist and help you stay steady, showing you how to turn your feet to stop and catch you when you almost fall. He’s warm, always so warm, and his big wide smile when you execute a turn all on your own is enough for him to melt the ice under you.

If you’re good at ice skating? He’d be much more comfortable in a public place. Ice skating is something he knows, and if he doesn’t have to worry about his beloved breaking their face, he can manage being around other people. And of course he’s skating beside you, holding your hand, doing little twirls if your skills allow. If you’re a proper figure skater, he’s watching dreamily as his little angel dances around on the ice, an aura of “that’s my partner, ain’t I lucky?” wafting off him.

If you also did some ice hockey- game is on. Once he’s given the go-ahead to get competitive, you’d better bring proper protection. König has a competitive streak as large as he is. He will use those bigass shoulders and he will laugh when he bowls you over. (Unless you’re actually hurt- then it’s all the way back to big softie puppy boy again) It’s a display of pure boyish delight and pride, and a good way to get all his adrenaline and energy out. He’s a goofy, sweaty mess afterwards- or a pouty one if you happened to win.

But, if it’s roller skating? This is a realm entirely unknown to König. One might think, reflexively, well, they’re both just skating, how much difference does it make?

A lot. First of all, different surfaces. Different centre of gravity on different types of skates. Roller blades may help, but then there’s the pushing vs sliding motion, entirely variable stopping methods- it’s a lot. And that cocky confident bastard on the ice is now looking at you with big hopeless eyes because he’s spent the last ten minutes desperately hugging the barrier with legs bowing like a newborn fawn.

If you’re also bad at roller skating? Oh no. It’s a comedy of errors, idiots in love. Neither of you know what you’re doing, you’re swapping ideas that never work and constantly having to use one another for support. There is plenty of laughter and plenty of physical contact- he’s got those nice strong arms that, even though he is impossibly clumsy, he’s still trying to Prince Charming you with. When the inevitable fall happens, it’s broken by him, landing directly onto the softness of his chest. Pressed that close, you can feel the rumble of his bright laughter as the two of you sit on your ass in the middle of the rink.

If you’re good at roller skating? Now it is you who is the Prince Charming. You get the pleasure of corralling your massive wet blanket of a datemate, König. If by some miracle you can support his weight, you’re good to go, but if like the majority of people you can’t hold steady this absolute mass of a lad, good luck. You’ll be getting a workout in, holding and leading and tugging him off of the ground. He learns fast, always has, but he still can’t help but squawk every time he feels himself losing balance.

And he is grateful, so grateful. Mostly told by how often he says thank you, his wobbly grins, jokes at his own expense. Not just for your help, but wow, he can make a fool of himself in front of you, and yet you still give him that adoring smile? God. He would take a million tailbone bruises for that smile.

💖 my inbox is open for requests, and my dms for commissions!

[angeliteeyes]

Hello! I'm not the same anon, but I loved your platonic astral express drabbles ( ◜‿◝ )♡ Do you think you'd be up to writing something (any form!) platonic about Kafka with a reader who is a little scared of her but also admires/platonically "crushes" on her and wishes to get closer to her? Have a great day~ ( ╹▽╹ )

Fellow emoticon user spotted (ФωФ) but seriously, thank you so much! I really enjoyed writing that one with how wholesome the crew is, so I'm happy you liked it too ❤️ here you go!

Platonic Kafka x Stellaron Hunter Reader - Admiration

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

No matter how much you tried, you couldn't stop the slight tremble in your hand as you knocked on Kafka's door. She'd reassured you countless times that there was nothing to be afraid of in the past, yet here you stood, shaking anyway.

Silver Wolf never failed to tease you for your shyness, always whispering snide comments in your ear while Kafka wasn't looking. Eventually, though, even she grew tired of your nervousness.

"C'mon, you're not seriously going to act like that forever, right?" After yet another round of video games, she spoke to you. "Why don't you just ask her to hang out sometime?"

"I don't know, Silvy. She's just so cool." You sighed a little thinking about her. Ever since you'd joined the Stellaron Hunters, Kafka had essentially taken you on as a sibling of sorts. Thinking back to your first mission together still made your heart race at how professional she acted. Still... you looked up to her so much that you ended up shying away from her often.

"I mean, sure, but you've got another mission with her coming up. So just bite the bullet and get closer to her already." The sound of a popping bubblegum bubble entered your ears. Maybe she was right. If you wanted to be anywhere near as cool as her, you couldn't just timidly avoid her forever.

And thus, here you were in front of her door, preparing to see a movie with her at a nearby theater. You silently thanked Silver Wolf for winning the tickets in a competition, although you didn't recognize the film's title. When you asked about it, though, she quickly reassured you that Kafka would like it.

Muffled sounds of fabric came out from her door, inching closer to you as she called out.

"I'll be out in a minute. Just grabbing my purse."

"No worries! Take your time." You fiddled with your fingers as you waited. Now that you think of it, you wonder what outfit she chose for tonight. You frowned a little at your own attire, and prayed you wouldn't look too terribly out of place beside her.

"Alright, I'm ready when you are." As she opened the door, your eyes widened. In front of you, Kafka practically glowed with beauty and grace. She had apparently decided on a gorgeous, flowy dress you'd yet to see her wear. And of course, one of her stylish coats.

"Wow... Uh, should I go and change into something else?" You began to back up, but she put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"There's no need. Your style has its own charm, so embrace it." Your chest fluttered at the compliment and kind gesture. "We should head off now."

"Thank you... and yeah, let's go."

The theater was surprisingly packed; you quickly realized after entering. Then again, the tickets being winnable in a competition probably should've tipped you off. The two of you had to squeeze tightly just to get through to the snacks area.

Splash.

You turned around to look for the source of the noise, before freezing up. Behind you was a person holding a now-empty soda cup and... Kafka, with a coat rapidly soaking up the liquid.

"Hey, watch where you're going, lady!" They spat words at her. As if the situation was her fault, which you're certain it couldn't be. You knew just how graceful she is, and especially how cautiously she protected her coats from any stains. Looking at her murderous eyes further proved it.

Instinctively, you started to shrink back away from the two of them. There's no way she'd let them off the hook when they practically burned who-knows-how-many credits, after all.

Yet, to your shock, Kafka's face morphed into a smile. A shaky, unconvincing one, yes—and there was still her murderous intent flowing through the air—but a smile all the same. You stared at her in wonder. How could she be so calm after that? Even you would be a little peeved in her shoes.

"Let's go, shall we?" She drew closer to you and away from them. "It'd be a shame to let this gift from you go to waste."

You looked up at her in disbelief. "But... but you're soaked and they were so rude to you. Are you really okay?" She smiled at you, this time far more naturally.

"It is... annoying to say the least. Still, you're always so nervous around me. If I were to cause a scene, that would only make you more uneasy." At the sound of her words and logic, your heart melted a little. She really thought that far, just for your sake? You knew she was cool already, but wow. Internally, you squealed in pure admiration of her.

"Kafka... thank you. Let's head off now." The two of you strolled along the path to your destination, soda stains and all. Perhaps it was a strange sight for onlookers to see you two smiling like this, but you didn't mind. You were by her side, and that was all that mattered.