#like their crowns kinda can’t be tipped

[dearabsolutelynoone]

“Gregory could only smile. Two bigger fools in love had yet to be born. It was endearing to watch…”

Julia Quinn, On the Way to the Wedding (Bridgertons, #7)

[dante-mightdie]

BC!simon smut is my new prescription (no but fr when i’m having a shit day i just go through that tag bc i need him bad)

I’m having the absolute worst week. work fucking sucks and now I have a cold. so it’s comfort hours with bc!simon. but like kinda mean dom simon 🥺

c/n: smut, bondage, kindameandom!simon, female reader, edging, crying during sex, simon pulls all that negative tension from your body with his dick

just imagine getting snippy with him when he gets home, mumbling under your breath and glaring at him when he tracks in mud on your clean carpet

he doesn’t say a word just lets you have your moment. tucks the kids into bed and stands in the doorway of the kitchen, watching you wash up

can see the tension in your shoulders so he just comes up to you, presses a kiss to the top of your head and tells you to go and wait for him in your room

finishes up the washing for you before coming to find you. finds you waiting for him on the end of your bed, wearing nothing but your panties and the shirt you always sleep in. some oversized limp bizkit shirt that simon stopped wearing years ago

“had a bad day, lovie?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he walks over to you. his calloused hand reaches up to pinch the soft cheeks on your face

“simon-“ you begin to speak but he just shakes his head, shushing you softly

“heard enough out of your mouth for one night. answer the question. yes or no?” he says, hands reaching down to unbuckle his trousers. you give him a slow nod

“see? know you can be good for me, can’t ya, dolly?” he grumbles out, flicking his head up as an instruction to raise your arms

he undresses you, a heavy silence filling your shared bedroom as he helps you shuffle up the bed before tying your wrists to the bedposts with his leather belt

“can see how tense you are, darlin’. don’t worry, ‘m gonna take care of ya’. you just need your husband to make it alright.” he hums, tugging on your wrist to make sure your restraints weren’t too tight nor too loose

“‘red’ if ya’ wanna stop, yeah?” he checks in, pulling off his t-shirt and trousers. you nod your head again, rubbing your thighs together to ease the ache that rests between them

he’d kiss down from your neck to your abdomen, slipping off your panties with ease before diving straight in, soft groans leaving his throat as he drags his tongue through your slit

spends a good 30 minutes sucking and lapping at your sopping cunt, bringing you to the edge over and over but never giving you that sweet release, always pulling away right before your body falls into that out of euphoria

“simon! you said you were gonna take care of me! you’re being mean!” you whine out, bucking your hips to try and meet his lips after he left you teetering on the edge. again…

he lets out a grunt in response, switching positions so he’s kneeling between your spread legs,

“I know. ‘m such an horrible bastard, aren’t I?” he says with a teasing tone, fishing his cock out from boxers and dragging the tip through your slit

“breathe.” is all the warning he gives you before slipping his cock inside you, burying himself to the hilt with one swift thrust of his hips

the sudden invasive feeling of his cock filling you up knocks the air of of your lungs, your hands desperate to reach out to grip his shoulders for leverage but the tight belt around your wrists restricts you

he wastes no time in pushing the top of your thighs to your chest, setting an animal pace as he begins to fuck your pussy

“si-simon!” you gasp out, your body moves in time with each of his thrusts, one of his hands resting on the crown of your head to stop you hitting it against the wooden headboard

“promise me one thing, yeah, sweethear’? one thing and i’ll let ya cum…” he grunts, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss just below your earlobe

his brutal pace combined with the former orgasm denial meant it didn’t take long for you to start teetering towards the edge again. your hands tug on your makeshift restraints, letting a soft whine escape your throat

“please, anything. please, si…” you beg and plead. almost pathetically, in simon’s opinion but it’s okay… he knows how bad you need it

the loud slapping of his hips hitting yours echoes throughout the room as he leans down, his pace never falters as he rests his forehead against yours

“next time you’re having a bad day, you’ll ask your husband to fuck ya better instead of walking around givin’ me lip…” he grunts, “promise me that and i’ll let ya cum, pretty…”

you nod your head erratically, tears welling up in your eyes and the overwhelming realisation that you’re so close to getting what you want, to feeling those euphoric waves crash all over your body and suck all the tension and stress from your bones

“promise, fuck, I promise…!” you sob out, tears slipping down your cheeks. you can’t even wait for further permission from simon. your orgasm claws it’s way out of you, vocalising itself with loud sobs

simon places his hand over your mouth, worried your load moans will wake the sleeping children in the next room

his pace never falters as he fucks you through your orgasm, your tears down your cheeks and onto his knuckles. your pussy pulses around his cock, milking his own orgasm from him shortly after

the feeling off his hot cum flushing the walls of your pussy adds a whole other layer of pleasure to your climax. you yank on the restraints and look up at simon with your teary eyes

he takes his hand from your mouth, your loud sobs having turned into the soft cries as he reaches to untie your wrists. you instantly lower them to wrap around his broad shoulders, pulling his body against yours as his once harsh pace slows down to slow grinds

“tha’s it, lovie. good girl, jus’ let it out…” he whispers in your ear, cradling your face into the crook of his neck as you cry softly

“th-thank you…” you choke out, gently digging your nails into the muscle of his back as a silent plea to just stay exactly where he is

he doesn’t pull out of you, just lays there with you, softly petting your hair and pressing kisses to the side of your face

[pandoraslxna]

⋆｡° ✮ minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinktober masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: masturbation, praise, dirty talk, sexual tension

"Show me how humans do it. How you like it", you said, meaning to make it sound like this was for an educational purpose, but Spider had gotten this look in his eyes as he gave you a lazy grin and said, "Okay", yanking his loincloth off like being naked is the most natural thing to him. Like you’re the strange human that can’t bear a little skin and he’s the Na’vi. And then he sat down naked against a moss covered log, sprawled out like he owns the place, his dick hard against his stomach.

"Kinda like this", he begins to explain.

He doesn’t look embarrassed, you think, shifting in your seat, cross-legged with your back against a tree and still fully dressed. But somehow you’re the awkward one.

Your heart is beating too fast, your tail nervously thumping against the soft ground and this is all wrong. You shouldn’t fool around with a human, a demon, should’ve stayed curious and not ask him about the sky people’s biology which ultimately lead to questions about his dick and if it was retractable too and then somehow, eywa knows how, to you asking him to jerk off in front of you so you could watch. Your natural curiosity be dammed!

Spider shouldn’t be on display, way over there, sliding a hand down his bare stomach, over painted on stripes, to curl around the base of his cock. He shouldn’t be making you watch the way he rubs his thumb over the crown, the way his hips hitch into his fist and his face creases in a moment of pleasure.

You shift again, trying to get comfortable, and Spider smirks at you. There’s heat spreading in your core, an ache under your loincloth, and you untangle your legs to spread them, running a hand over the thin fabric between your thighs just to take the edge off. Spider watches, then gives his dick a squeeze from root to tip, arching his neck, and you can see the light gleam off a bead of pre-cum leaking from his slit. You swallow hard, dainty fingertips rubbing over the outline of your clit slowly.

"I like it slow", Spider says, huffing a little, and you’re not entirely sure if he was talking about himself or you, because his eyes are completely fixed on the way your run your fingers over your clothed cunt. "At first", he adds, then tugs at his cock, like he has a million years and you aren’t absolutely dying over here. He rolls his balls gently between his fingers with his other hand, pulls down slowly and lets a moan slip out.

You embarrass yourself a little by echoing it, but his cock seems to jump in sympathy. Then he jerks it a little faster, and you can’t help but pull your loincloth to the side, to insert two slender digits into your seeping entrance. Spider shivers at the sight.

"I like having my cock sucked", he says ever so nonchalantly, "like it when it’s messy, so—“ and then he sticks his tongue out and let’s spit fall onto his palm, before closing it around his shaft, coating it in the clear liquid. He’s rocking into the pleasure, just a little, and then works his fingers over the head of his dick, feeling it leak and pulse, and you nod. You’re listening.

"Fuck, that’s it”, Spider sighs, and he spreads his knees farther apart. His balls hang heavy and full between his thighs, and his dick -not retractable, by the way- is standing up big and hard from his fist, and your mouth is watering. You swallow again, rolling your hips up into your hand to try and get your fingers deeper inside, curling them a little higher and then you moan, loud.

"You good?", Spider chuckles, but there’s a strain in his voice, like he’s trying to sound calm and collected, but he’s not. Not by the pace he’s stroking his cock right now.

"Spider", you whimper, but you actually meant to say, this is crazy, just get over here and fuck me, but you kind of trailed off and whimpered instead. Your face is hot and you can feel sweat running down your spine, and your poor little clit is throbbing with your own heartbeat.

Spider’s hand is working faster and faster, slick with pre-cum and spit, sliding smoothly up and down his thick shaft. Every other stroke ends with a little twist of his fingers that rubs the underside of his cockhead, and he licks his lips as he stares at you, eyes open, gaze intent.

You can’t stand it any longer, the waiting, the watching, the wanting, and you can barely catch your breath.

"You’re gonna come, huh?", he chuckles, throwing his head back for a brief second, exhaling shakily, before he looks back at you again. "Yeah, and then I like– oh, fuck– I like it just fast and hard at the end, I like to, to fuck my fist, imagine it’s a pretty na‘vi girl sucking me off. Or bouncing on my cock. Fuck, you look good baby, gettin’ off on watching me."

"I’m not–", you start to say, but that’s stupid, because you totally are, and you’re so close it physically hurts to hold it back.

"Shit", he groans, his hand a blur, his face creasing in concentration, "I’m gonna come, oh fuck, I’m gonna–"

"Hmh, me t-too", you nod, rubbing your clit frantically. "Yes, fuck– ohh, fucking hell", Spider chants, fuck, fuck, fuck and then he comes.

You love the way his pink cock swells up hard and massive, the thick, sloppy spurts of cum, and the noises he makes as he kicks his hips up and shoots all over his belly, working himself through it with one hand still jacking his cock and the other clamped tightly around his own leg. His thighs work as he fucks his fist, muscles bunching, his abs rippling, and your own orgasm hits you like lightning shooting down your spine, soaking right through your loincloth, shuddering helplessly as you hump your palm, wriggling your fingers against your clit.

It takes an awful while for you to catch your breath after that, and while your gaze still seems unfocused and hazy, Spider already cocks his brow at you, proudly displaying his stamina as he gives a lazy stroke to his cum slicked and already half hard dick.

"Now that this question is out of the way", he starts, his lips parting into a sharp grin, "do you want me to show you how we humans fuck?"

[hotluncheddie]

ur my burger king

written for the June @steddiemicrofic prompt 'stuff' !

wc: 483 | rated: M | cw: weed | tags: idiot4idiot, Chubby Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart

🍔 ✧

‘Five whoppers.’ Eddie says, with an air of gravitas. ‘And then, five more whoppers.’ Flicking his wrist at the little drive-thru speaker. 

Steve giggles in the passenger seat, his little cardboard crown shifting as he turns to grin at Eddie. 

‘Do you require anything else my liege?’ Eddie’s ears stick out between strands of hair, his own crown sitting so low Steve can’t see his eyebrows. 

‘Dr Pepper?’ 

‘But of course!’ Eddie gasps. ‘And two of your finest Dr Peppers, if you would!’ 

‘…Next window.’ the workers bored, tinny voice replies.

Eddie pays and drives them over to the deserted end of the parking lot. Both moving to the back to get comfy and smoke, September sun beginning to set, lighting everything up golden. 

By the time the munchies are in full swing and Eddie’s eyes are rimmed red, Steve, slouched heavily against the vans side, sighs. ‘I miss Bobbie.’ He pouts. 

‘Ah Stevie, I know you do, but you’ll see her soon. Winter road trip, remember?’ Eddie swings his arms around, holding fries as if they’re pompoms. 

‘Yeah. Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin the high.’ Steve smiles a little sheepishly. ‘I’m, thanks for uh, all this.’ Steve finishes the last of his burger and looks at Eddie, his hair curling around his cheeks, soft smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Eddie winks, crawling to change the tape. 

Steve shifts, placing a hand on his food baby, that’s pushing slightly against his polo. ‘Oof, I am stuffed.’ He sighs.

‘Yeah.’ Eddie sits back down, eyes his chubbier middle, lighting a fresh joint. ‘Is it like, a feelings thing? You okay?’ He asks, leaning closer. Their shoulders brush and Eddie’s eyes are so big, and kind. He holds the joint up to Steve’s mouth for him, everything fizzes where they touch, everything warm, and electric.

‘Nah.’ Steve exhales, waving his hand uselessly against the thick mist that fills the space. ‘It’s just, sometimes if I eat a lot my dick gets hard.’ He shrugs, not really thinking.

Eddie stares at him, mouth a little open. 

Steve pauses, the hand on his belly feels heavier. ’I, uh. Shit dude, I, think I’m really high.’

But Eddie’s mouth splits into a surprised grin, face and body collapsing into fond laughter, which turns into uncontrollable hysteria. 

He tips forward until his forehead rests on Steve’s thigh. Steve slouching even further against the vans interior, but that squishes his packed stomach. Which makes him groan, and makes them both double over with even more giggly laughter. 

Steve shifts until he’s laying prone, no longer inclined to move, the weed hitting his limbs. Eddie wiggles next to him. 

‘That uh, honestly?’ Eddie says through a final giggle, leaning up on his elbow, wiping a tear from his eye and looming over Steve. ‘That sounds kinda hot.’ 

‘Yeah?’ Steve asks, grinning as Eddie nods ‘Wanna, make out?’

‘Fuck yeah.’

🍔 ✧

context

Tag list (open) : @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

@marvel-ous-m @tangerinesteve

[shybunny]

Would it be too much to ask for a gargoyle story? Like maybe a gargoyle waking up after a long sleep and about to blow. Kinda like a werewolf in heat I guess. All consensual of course. 😳👉👈

🔞 this post contains erotic writing intended for adults. do not interact with this post if you are a minor/under eighteen

😚 gargoyle, size kink, handjob, yearning, begging, lots of cum 😗 slight dubcon (sorry, just at first)

You work at a curiosities museum, and there’s a small hall filled with all kinds of unusual statues. Some of them are broken in interesting ways, some of them are comically ugly, and some of them are just plain weird. You suppose your favorite is one of the weird ones, because it’s not broken, and it’s certainly not ugly. It’s a beautiful body in repose: a man lying on his back, propped up slightly on his elbows, with big long limbs and well-defined muscles sculpted in lush detail. But there’s also the ferocious claws, the leathery wings emerging on either side, the curling horns and snarling fangs, making him into a sort of gargoyle. And the crowning jewel of the piece, sticking straight up from between his legs, is his enormous erect cock. The thick shaft is carved with an intricate network of veins, and there’s even a little bead of precum, frozen in place as it slides off the finely-contoured tip.

Would you sound crazy if you said you were a little in love with this statue? And it’s not just because of the impressive equipment. He’s just so handsome, with his powerful body and his ferocious, animalistic features. And there’s something endearing, almost vulnerable about the position he’s carved into, as if watching a lover crawl on top of him. You’ve spent an embarrassing number of hours fantasizing about him coming to life and carrying you away from this place.

You’re not his only fan, either. He’s quite popular among the visitors, for obvious reasons, always eliciting rowdy laughter and lewd exclamations. No one is supposed to touch the artwork, but some people just can’t suppress the impulse to stroke the long thick shaft. You’ve actually had to stop multiple people from putting their mouth around the plump tip while their friend takes a photo. You take a cruel kind of pleasure in exercising your authority during these moments. It’s so stupid, but… it always makes you jealous when other people try to touch him. He belongs to you. Or to the museum, anyway.

You’re working late one night, dusting off the statues. When you get to your gargoyle, you suppress a little giggle as you brush the duster over the tip of his penis. You suppose there is something a little funny about it… But the humor quickly gives way to the familiar yearning and jealousy. You run your fingertip from the plump head all the way down to the defined seam of his heavy testicals. You keep stroking, adding in more fingers, gazing with longing at his expressive face and groaning under your breath. Before you know it you have your fist in a tight circle around his cock, stroking the whole length up and down, feeling yourself get wet as you jerk him off. How could you let anyone else put their hands on him? You have to claim him for yourself.

You pull your pants down around your ankles so you can step out of them. Then you climb on top of him. If anyone caught you doing this, you would be in so much trouble, but the security camera coverage isn’t very good in this room, and you know you won’t be seen. You press your wet cunt against the tip, and then slowly impale yourself on his cock. It goes in so easily… You’re so wet for him. You peer down hungrily at him, running your hands all over his hard chest while you slide up and down on his cock. His erection feels more… pliant than you would have expected. You bounce on it easily, feeling the thick length of him stroking your insides. Your eyes slide shut as you try to pretend that he’s alive, that he wants you, that instead of lying inert and frozen, his hands are all over your body. You can actually feel them, warm and rough, sliding onto your hips, the long claws pressing into your skin. Are you going insane? Your eyes fly open.

Somehow he’s come to life beneath you: pawing at your hips, chest heaving beneath your hands, his eyes locked with yours. You have no idea what to do. Your frantic movements slow to a stop.

“No please,” he begs, “please don’t stop. I’ve been like this for so long, please, fuck, I need to cum.”

He grips your hips in his huge rough hands and starts to buck his hips, bouncing you up and down on his cock. You have got to be dreaming. Or hallucinating. He’s taking you so roughly, hitting so deep and hard inside you. You start to cum around his cock but you don’t think he even notices, he’s so focused on his own release.

“Please,” he’s still begging, “please, I need to cum— need to cum in your pussy— I'm so— oh fuck—”

He throws his head back, his large body going taught beneath yours, and you can feel him unloading all of his pent up cum into your swollen pussy. You clench around him, trying to pull him in deeper as he fills you up. Doing this for him… Letting him do this to you… It’s like a dream come true. You’re frantically praying that you won’t wake up.

His large hands come up to cup your face, drawing you closer. “I’m sorry,” he pants. “Are you okay? I’m s—” But he breaks off with a groan and pushes his hips up into you as his cock spasms with another spurt of cum. You brush your fingertips against his cheek. He must have been so pent up. His orgasm goes on and on, murmurs and soft touches interrupted again and again by another shuddering groan and his cock pumping another load of cum into you. You take it all, and you love every second of it.

Finally he falls back with an exhausted sigh, completely limp and drained. He looks up at you out of his heavy-lidded eyes, and you feel more in love with him than ever.

“What are you…?” you finally ask. He explains that whenever his kind are ready to mate, they must find a partner within a certain amount of time, or their bodies turn to unyielding stone. If you hadn’t molested him the way you did, he might have stayed frozen forever. You don’t want to think about what this will mean for the museum, or for your job. You ask him what he’s going to do now.

“I should probably return to my castle…” he says. “Do you want to come with me?”

God, do you ever. You lead him up to the roof of the museum, where he lifts you into his arms, unfurls his long leathery wings, and carries you away.

[manikasu-nyx]

winters in sumeru (part 1)

OH MY GOD THIS ENTRY IS SO LATE I’M SO SORRY @kunikushi I hope you enjoy this despite me being to late to finish it I’m so sorry again 😭 also the formatting might be weird cause tumblr just??? Broke on me!???

right before posting edit: hey so I think I hit the word limit so I have to split this into two posts so the second one is here

charas/content: al-haitham, scaramouche, gender neutral reader, modern/college au, inaccurate weather scenario, author writes Cheese, kinda ooc i'm sorry i tried my best

Al-Haitham:

You placed the tip of your pencil against your lip as you chewed on it thoughtfully, staring down at the problem in your textbook. You understood the material fairly well, but this problem was made to be difficult, and you knew it’d be on your exams. You sighed and placed your pencil down, opting to run a hand through your hair in frustration instead. You’d been staring at that problem for almost fifteen minutes now, and it’d take a miracle for you to understand it. “You’ve been staring at that problem for a while. Are you sure you don’t want my help?” A voice asks from over your shoulder, causing you to turn your head to look at the source. Al-Haitham was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, a book in his hand and a cup next to him. His face was blank as usual, but also had a fair bit of concern on it. You shook your head at him, turning back to the books in front of you, deciding to move on to a different subject. “No, I’ll be fine. You can’t help me on the exams, so I have to do this by myself,” you said, going back to scribbling down more notes, cutting the conversation abruptly. After a couple more minutes of writing, your coat was placed next to you, and tapping was felt on the crown of your head. “Well, at least take a break,” Al-Haitham said, pulling on his own coat, slipping on his shoes. “C’mon, we’re going for a walk.” His tone of voice told you that it was less of a suggestion and more of a command. You stood up and put on your coat, deciding that it’d be good for you to stop staring at the same tiny font for now. The words were jumbling together anyway. “Hey, wait, does Kaveh have his key?” You ask, looking up at him as he gives himself a small smirk, locking the door and placing his key in his pocket. “No,” he simply replies, starting to walk off, you giving a little gasp as you caught up with him, smacking him on the arm lightly with a pout. "You're so mean to him!" You exclaim, him only giving a shrug as he kept walking, slipping his hands in his coat pockets. "Oh well. He should've taken his key. But don't worry about him. Just walk with me for now," he said, slipping a hand out of his pocket and grabbing yours, squeezing it gently. "Just focus on me for now, okay? I'm not particularly fond of you thinking of him while you're with me," he said, mumbling the last part, locking his neck and eyes forward to avoid your gaze as you looked up at him. "What do you mean by that?" "Whatever you think I mean." "You know I can't think, my brain is fried!" "That's a shame." "Al-Haitham!" He laughed at your pout, looking up at the starry sky above the two of you, watching your breaths of air create small puffs of steam. Maybe after exams he'd elaborate. But your brain was already fried, so there was no need for him to fry it more with the knowledge he liked you, right? 'Soon,' he told himself. 'Soon.'

Scaramouche:

You let out an internal sigh as you watched your lover walk into your shared home, already ranting about different people he had seen today. You had just wanted one night of peace, but no. Not tonight. Not with him. But you loved him regardless, so you took a sip of your tea, closing your laptop and placing it to the side, glancing over at him. He had taken off his jacket and placed it on the coat rack, still grumbling as he took his spot next to you on the couch. "And seriously, if Childe says something else about our professor being hot I'm gonna kill him. Like that's not just our professor, jackass, that's my fucking mom!" You had to hold back a snort, knowing that any sign of amusement from you would only make him angrier. You listened to him go on a bit more before placing your cup down and grabbing his face, making him pause mid-sentence. "And I swear if I could I'd have Dottore blown away in a-! …What. What are you doing?" He asked, still confused by the sudden warmth on his cheeks. You nodded a bit, as if in thought, before standing up and handing him your blanket, pointing to your balcony. "Go sit out there. I'll be out in a minute," you said, walking off before he could question you, let alone protest. He eventually decided what you had planned couldn't possibly make his day any worse (he was being dramatic, it was only slightly annoying at best), and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, going to sit on the couch, shivering at the cold on it.

You walked out soon after, holding two steaming cups, handing one to him as you took your seat next to him, wrapping your half of the blanket around you in a shared cocoon. Scaramouche shivered, and you scooted closer to him, knowing he was both too cold and too smart to make a remark to push you away. "What's in the cup?" He asked, you taking a sip of your own. "Hot chocolate." "With milk or water?" "The way you like it." He let out a small hum, taking a sip of his drink, letting the liquid warm his insides and simultaneously calm him. "Feel better?" You ask, glancing over at him. He took another sip, giving a small nod as he answered under his breath. "S' fine. But why are we out here when it's so cold?" He asked, you simply raising a hand and pointing up. "Look up," you said, his indigo eyes looking up with an eyebrow raised. The sky was clear, and the stars were shimmering. And some of them were... Moving? "It's snowing...? But it's completely clear out!" He exclaimed, his understanding of earth science failing him. "Diamond dust." "Huh?" "Diamond dust," you corrected. "It happens when the surface is a lot colder than the air above it. It takes the moisture from the warmer air above and freezes it. It's like snow, except it doesn't accumulate. That's the short version, anyway," you explained, not noticing how his eyes gazed at you with wonder, like a child seeing a firework for the first time.

"Is that why you brought me out here?" He asked, you giving a nod as you leaned over to him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Yep. It's pretty, and it's hard to be mad while you're looking at something pretty," you commented, looking out at the dust, the stars, and the city. "...Yeah. You're right," he said, nodding with your words. The sight calmed his mind and his heart, but made it race all the same. A small smile graced his face, placing an arm around your shoulder. But he wasn't looking at the city. He was looking at you.

[archive-of-bones]

Hi I hope your doing well! I was hoping you could write about platonic yandere malleus, who is kinda like a parental or older sibling figure, preventing a younger (aged 12-13) MC from returning to their world because he decided that this little human needs to be protected and belongs in his world.

To Tir na Nóg

A/n: Help this literally took so long! This is unedited so do forgive the mistakes!

Featuring: Malleus Draconia

Pairings: Malleus/reader (platonic!)

Warnings: implications of kidnapping, spell to someone unwilling/unaware, slight yandere, gaslighting (?)

The land of the young, the land in which you become frozen in the time of your prime for eternity. The land in which you're forever happy, but you can't leave, not anymore at least.

The time when you were somewhere else away from here seemed like a lifetime ago, hazy, memories and images scattered like mirror fragments inside your mind; the harder you tried to remember, the more the memories faded. So you just let it be. The skies are clear, a wide blue devoid of clouds, breeze passing through the freshly washed linen you hung up with one still clutched tightly within your fists. You no longer had memories of who you once were before Briar Valley, but that’s alright, isn’t it?

The crown prince doesn’t come visit you often, he always apologizes for not spending enough time with you as duty calls and you vaguely remember how you tried to cling to his sleeve to say something and him laughing at your attempt for him to stay. He comes back whenever he can, his promises never empty and his hands always having some sort of a present within them if not just an ordinary item he thinks you might fancy or might need. It may be an item from another land, some food you might like, or basic things like paper and a pencil or a small figurine of a gargoyle.

Either way you’re never bored, you never questioned why you couldn’t get out of the valley, and why you can’t remember a thing. You never questioned why there were mostly only three other people who visited you most of the time in the woods, some others pass by, but never linger for too long for a reason you don’t really know. Something tells you you’re better off not knowing about it, blissful ignorance if you will. In times you ask about how you ended up here, it’s not Malleus that answers you, but one of his retainers, the quieter and sleepy one you recognize as Silver.

“Young Master wants to protect you, he deeply cares about you, even more so than we do.” He tells you, sleepily as he nods off to the land of dreams again like always. You don’t know what could be out there that you need protection from, Malleus will not tell you either.

That’s quite strange.

You vaguely remember a fragment of your previous memories, you did not call Malleus by his name, but by something else, a nickname. It sits heavy on the tip of your tongue but unwilling to release itself from whatever hold it’s caged in, it’s difficult to will yourself to speak-

“Horton.”

Yes, that was his nickname! Horton! The rest of your memories is static as you try to grasp at them to remember where and when and how you came up with the nickname, frustration clawed into your bones as the feeling of something holding you back from remembering your life beyond the valley came back to you once again.

“I see you’ve remembered that little name you gave me once.” Malleus spoke from behind you, you push the linen cloth to your chest as you jump from being startled, there are lingering traces of chartreuse fireflies around you; you were too deep in thought to notice. His eyes shine with mirth, a soft smile borderline looking malicious gracing his lips as he looked at you. You don’t feel a threat from the malicious looking smile, knowing it was just him showing his joy at seeing you. “Sorry to startle you, it seems that you’ve occupied yourself well here.”

“I have nothing much to do, Mrs. Zigvolt visited the other day to give me some candy and cookies, and she checked my teeth. But other than that, nothing else.” You told him, it’s a routine for you to do so to inform him of your activities or things that go around your surroundings. You felt a warm and heavy hand on your head and realize he’s giving you a headpat.

“That’s good.” He rubbed your head gently, careful to not use his strength on you in order to not hurt you. Not that anything can get to you here, not your previous friends, not any single trace of danger. And certainly, not your previous world.

Not that you would ever remember.

You belong here now.

[look-at-the-soul]

Peaky Blinders letter exchange

Arthur Shelby x Heaven

Letters master list

💌 So I’m beyond thrilled for this brilliant idea, @raincoffeeandfandoms thank you for creating this project I almost stick to the deadline… not going to lie it was quite a challenge since I’ve never wrote for other than Tommy, but just as in life, I’m always up for a challenge 😉

The first letter was written by @call-sign-shark as the OC, Heaven 🤍 I have to admit this letter made me dream about their encounter, the response as Arthur was written by me, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: After S3c Heaven and Arthur live a peaceful and happy life in their house in the forrest and they are trying for a child. But when Arthur got the mafia’s black hand, he came back to Small Heath. At first he asked his wife not to come to protect her, but their love is so strong, so drug-like, that they kinda withered without each other. So she decides to join him no matter the danger of Changretta’s threats. Arthur receives the letter the day Tommy told him everyone should stick together for safety reasons.

*****

Mon amour, Bleak Winter and brass knuckles, My heart burns in the steel Of your saddened eyes. Night fell upon the city and I’m alone in our house, our big dog lying at my feet and flickering candle lights as sole company. As I watched the moonlight and stars, I felt the urge to write down these words for my heart aches with your absence. I know you asked me to stay away from Small Heath until things are better with Luca Changretta, but I’m becoming crazy between these walls. I can’t stand the idea of you risking your life and not being able to take you in my arms at night to give you comfort, nor to wash away the blood from your face and hands. Admittedly, it sounds like I am writing this in pure emotions and I am pretty sure that’s what Thomas will say, but I have thought the matters for nights and days before taking this decision: I am coming back to Small Heath, and we will fight as we have always done since we have met: together. As long as you’re with me, I know that nothing can happen — and if Death brings its cold and bony fingers around my neck, know that I’ll forever be by your side. But Arthur, I can’t go on without you. Each day without your presence is not worth living: I would rather hold your hand and bath in blood with you than being locked up away from you, safe but decaying. As I impatiently wait for our “retrouvailles” in three days, I keep brushing the golden ring your offered me with the tips of my fingers. Your gravel voice still echoes in my head, the words of your proposal bringing me comfort in my darkest and coldest nights. I remember how pained you looked when Tommy told us to wait for this gang war to be over before getting married but I think this is not a good idea. Quite the contrary, this is one rule we should disobey. Even in the midst of battle, I am ready to wear my white dress and deliver my vows, flowers crowns on my head and razor blade in my hand. If sky fall apart and hell breaks loose, at least we’ll leave this world as husband and wife — but don’t get me wrong, I am pretty sure no one will make you bow. Don’t forget that you’re a strong man. Stronger than you can imagine, stronger than everyone thinks. I believe in you, and always will. In the meantime, keep me in your heart and I promise I’ll soon be in your arms, Forever yours, Your angel Heaven.

-

My dear Heaven,

There’s no more room for sadness for me since the day you walked into my life. Last night I had a dream, it was already dark and I was sitting alone, you suddenly appeared out of nowhere and everything changed; it was a sunny day and we were walking hand in hand around the forest that surrounds our home. I just wish it could be true and you could be by my side, you can’t even imagine how much I dream of you…. Finding your letter early today gave me peace, but the day has been a fucking nightmare and I just got the chance to answer your words in the middle of the night. How I wish it was me lying next to you, feeling your warm body calming my busy mind. Don’t let out dog get used to it, though as I intend to take my spot back once this war is over. If only you knew how much your love means to me… you saved me from the darkness. It’s been lonely nights without you darling, but the sacrifice will be worth it, we will be able to go back to our routine and start the family your heart desires, but your love is giving me the strength I need at this moment, that’s what keeps me going. I need you to stay away from this mess, that’s the only way I have to protect you. Oh no, you bloody what?! Heaven, love that’s the craziest idea, I miss you so much yes, but there’s no way I can put you in danger, Small Heath isn’t a good idea right now… and please don’t even think about it, I’d never let anything bad happen to you. But as I know, once you make a decision there’s no way to convince you otherwise, so just let me make adjustments and prepare the way you’ll get in so it’s the safest, at least give me that peace eh? I cannot wait until we get married, but again if you already decided you don’t want to wait, we’ll do it right away. You’ll be the prettiest bride, you’ll look like an angel…and later after all of this passes we’ll have a bloody big celebration. Don’t worry about Tommy, he’ll understand. Your words mean so much, I treasure it so close to me heart my dear. I’m looking forward to our “retrouvailles”. I just know having you close will give me peace. Always in my head and heart soon to be Heaven Shelby. Always yours, AS.

****

Tag list:

@runnning-outof-time @call-sign-shark @shelbydelrey @raincoffeeandfandoms @there-goes-thefighter @dandelionprints @zablife @cljordan-imperium

I don’t know if you read for Arthur, if not that’s okay!

@lyarr24 @esposadomd @elenavampire21 @stevie75 @babaohhhriley @fastfan @forgottenpeakywriter @mrkdvidal1989 @shaddixlife @moral-terpitude @pono-pura-vida @ange-thoughts @onlydeadcells @lespendy @sloanexx

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Moodboard by @softhecreator

Don’t Blame My English Blood For This American Heartache

Chapter Five: Don’t Stop Me Now

AO3 info prologue one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve

All my work is 18+.

I feel I’m watered down whenever he’s around. I put on the crown of clowns and melt slowly to the ground.- MARINA, Hermit the Frog

Mid August, 1984

Diagon Alley

London, England

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Sera admitted, looking at the wand a very old man named Ollivander was offering her in his wand store.

“Nonsense, Miss Malfoy,” the old man assured her. “The wand chooses the witch.”

“I’ve never used a wand before,” she explained. “I learned magic without one.”

“You can’t go to Hogwarts without a wand,” Yarrow told her, fanning herself with a painted fan that looked like it had been made for Queen Victoria herself.

“Indeed, Miss Rosier,” Mr. Ollivander confirmed.

Hesitantly, Sera took the wand in hand.

“Now then,” Mr. Ollivander said pleasantly, “just give it a wave, if you please. Or, if you’d like, perform a simple spell.”

Sera waved the wand, imagining a small ball of harmless light emerging from the tip.

A ball of light did emerge from the tip. But it was not small, nor was it harmless.

It caused a moderately-sized explosion.

With a wave of his own wand, Mr. Ollivander cleaned up his store and offered Sera a second wand to try.

She did the same thing with the same results six times. It seemed that every wand Mr. Ollivander had made disliked Sera a great deal. It took awhile, but eventually, one of the wands she tried didn’t produce an explosion, but rather a large ball of light that closely resembled the sun. She had instinctively waved her free hand and put the light out, of course, but the three of them were momentarily blinded anyway.

“Well,” Yarrow said, mildly amused, “I suspect that’s as good as it’s going to get.”

“Perhaps we should try—“

“Thank you, Mr. Ollivander,” Sera cut him off with a polite smile. “I’ll take this one, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, of course.” He seemed reluctant, but he did as she’d asked.

Sera figured she wouldn’t be using the wand, anyway.

What she was excited for was the cat she was allowed to bring to school with her, were she to be accepted. She’d found a tiny black kitten by the side of the road. She figured that since he was an orphan she found in Europe, she’d name him Beowulf, Beo for short.

“What on earth do you mean you don’t need a trunk?” Aunt Ursa asked, astonished.

“Well,” Sera said slowly, idly petting Beo, was perched on her shoulder at the moment, “we don’t have the money to buy one, and my suitcase will do just fine.”

“But everyone has a trunk.”

Sera shrugged, jostling Beo, who let out a small meow of protest. “Everyone enrolled as a first year, too. I’m enrolling as a seventh year.”

Aunt Ursa pursed her lips. “Very well, dear. As you please.”

Sera smiled. Her aunt had been very kind and accommodating. “I’m very grateful to you for all you’ve done for me, Aunt Ursa. Truly.”

Her aunt smiled back at her. “Of course, dear girl. Now come, we must get you to Hogwarts for the placement examinations.”

The tests were beyond exhausting.

It certainly didn’t help that Sera hadn’t bothered to attend in the Hogwarts uniform everyone else was wearing. That was probably why people were staring so much, actually: she wore a black and red plaid skirt with suspenders that went over the black Lick It Up sleeveless shirt she’d bought at a KISS concert when she was fifteen and the beat-up combat boots she’d had since she stopped growing at thirteen.

She didn’t always dress like a punk, but she had a few friends who were in college back at UCSC who were really into that kinda thing. Okay, so Doug was more the sort to wear jeans and plain t-shirts, but his girlfriend liked to drop acid at the Boardwalk, and his best friends consisted of a dude majoring in astrophysics and another dude who’d founded UCSC’s gay and lesbian organization, which Ta attended the meetings of despite not even being enrolled yet. In any case, some of her friends back home dressed the way she did, and she kept forgetting that nobody in the Wizarding World did.

Mid August, 1984

Hogwarts

Scotland

“I really think I should try it without a wand, ma’am,” Sera attempted to tell the transfiguration professor, whose name was McGonagall. Transfiguration was her first test with a practical section, and Sera knew it was essential she display her abilities there because Aunt Ursa’s explanations of English-style magic may not have been entirely adequate to get her a passing grade on their own, comprehensive though they were.

The older woman—who Sera thought she might like, actually; she was terribly excited to get to know other witches, especially teachers—pursed her lips. “We will try with a wand first, and then without a wand.”

Sera nodded, and was then presented with some sort of ball.

“Turn this into a balloon, if you please,” Ms. McGonagall said politely. “With your wand.”

Sera nodded, and, picturing the ball turning into a balloon, she flicked her wand at it. 

The ball transformed into a balloon, which promptly exploded.

Ms. McGonagall blinked at the scorch marks on the stone floor, then looked up at Sera. “Let’s try without your wand, then.”

Sera put her wand down on the table carefully, as if it might bite her, which she half-thought was a possibility.

“Should I make a new ball?” she asked. 

Ms. McGonagall raised her eyebrows. “Can you do it without making it explode?”

Sera grimaced, but nodded. “Yes.”

“Very well, then.” With that, the teacher stood back, presumably to avoid potential injury if another explosion were to occur. 

Sera flicked her hand, and a ball identical to the one before popped into being.

Ms. McGonagall stared at her. “Wandless and nonverbal,” she observed quietly, taking notes on a pad of some sort. “The balloon, if you would.”

Sera nodded and flicked her hand again, and the ball became a balloon.

Ms. McGonagall pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Are you capable of human transfiguration?”

Sera nodded, sitting down at a desk chair. “I used to do this at the beach with a friend of mine,” she admitted a bit bashfully. The teacher raised her eyebrows expectantly, and then Sera gestured to her legs. Her pale skin became opalescent scales, and her legs merged into a tail.

“You can transform yourself into a mermaid,” the teacher observed dryly.

“Yes,” Sera confirmed, tapping her tail idly to turn it back into legs. “I can’t breathe underwater or anything, though.”

Ms. McGonagall’s lips twitched, and Sera thought she might’ve been trying not to smile. “Miss Malfoy, what happened when you used your wand, does that always happen?”

Sera shrugged. “I never used one before I came to Europe. I learned without one.”

“You learned magic without a wand?”

Sera nodded. “The people who taught me don’t use them, either. I didn’t know witches used wands until recently.”

Ms. McGonagall nodded once, scribbling down something on her notepad.

She had to do several other transfigurations before the practical was over, and the teacher was a very stoic woman, but Sera hoped she was at least a little bit impressed.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Sera addressed her, a bit nervous. Ms. McGonagall looked down at her, as expressionless as always. “Do you think… that is to say, do I have a chance? At— at getting in, I mean.”

The older woman looked at Sera consideringly. “I think, Miss Malfoy,” she said slowly, “that if you show the skill in your other examinations as you did in this one, I will be very pleased to have you in my class.”

Mid August, 1984

Malfoy Manor

Wiltshire, England

Upon her return to Malfoy Manor, she was most displeased to discover none other than Regulus Black waiting there for her.

“Eugh,” she said by way of greeting, curling her lip at him. “Go away. I am so not in the mood.” It was true; she was exhausted. Hours of testing made one very tired, and she was very interested in going to bed, despite the fact that it was barely past six and she hadn’t even had dinner.

Regulus smiled in a way that made him look deceptively good-natured. “I know you had your placement examinations today, and I thought you’d fancy could use a bit of a breather afterwards.”

“Yes, I would could,” she agreed immediately. “Which is why you should leave. I’m not in one of your fancy hundred-year-old dresses, anyway.”

He looked down at her outfit, his eyes widening as if he hadn’t noticed it before. “What on earth are you wearing?”

“Clothes,” she informed him flatly.

“Is… is that how Muggles dress?”

She put a hand on her hip. “People who can’t use magic, you mean? Yes, they sometimes dress like me.”

He licked his lips, his eyes fixed on her bare legs. “You… you wear this kind of thing oftena lot?”

“Sometimes.” She wanted to smack him until he actually left. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

His gaze flicked back up to her face. “I’d like it to be.”

Sera fixed him with a glare. “What I wear is never going to be any of your business.” 

With that, she moved around him to the main hallway and made a right in the direction of the spiral staircase that led to the third floor she occupied.

“Where are you going?” Regulus asked, sounding like he was hurrying after her.

“My room. Not that that’s any of your business, either.” She turned into the tiny room with the staircase, hoping very much he would take the hint and leave her be.

“I thought we could have a cup of tea,” he told her.

“I’m American,” she snapped impatiently. “I don’t drink tea to wind down. I watch things, listen to music, and take naps.”

“Oh.” She rolled her eyes at his ridiculousness and didn’t respond, but he followed after her anyway.

“I might decide to turn the stairs into a slide,” she warned as she began to go up them.

“No, you won’t,” he deduced easily. “I remember those exams, and they’re an absolute nightmare. You won’t want to do magic like that for another few hours at least.”

She pursed her lips, annoyed. Especially about the fact that he was right.

“Why won’t you go away and leave me alone?” she demanded in exasperation as they reached the top of the stairs on the third floor.

“Because if I leave you alone, you’ll never fancy me, and that won’t do.”

“That won’t do,” she mimicked, dropping her voice down low in and faking a British accent in what she considered to be a spot-on impression of the dickhead. “I’ll never ‘fancy’ you either way, fancy boy.”

She strolled into her TV room, plopping down on the couch and grabbing the remote off the coffee table. “I’m confident you will, but— what’s that?” He pointed at the TV.

“It’s a TV,” she said flatly, clicking the power button. She had MASH queued up in the VCR already, so Hawkeye’s dreamy face immediately appeared onscreen.

Regulus flinched. “What on earth—“

“It plays videos,” she explained impatiently. “Recordings. Like a play you can watch. See?” She pressed play, and Hawkeye resumed badgering Frank Burns, the way he’d been doing when she’d turned it off last.

Regulus stepped closer to the TV as if it would bite him.

“Ugh,” she groaned when he stepped in front of the screen. “If you’re not gonna leave, at least get out of the way. Sit down or something.”

He did so wordlessly, watching the screen with wide, fascinated eyes. “This really happened?”

Sera grimaced. “Well… yes and no.” He looked at her in askance, and she paused it with a sigh. “The people, they’re actors. The characters aren’t real. But the place they’re in, Korea, is obviously real.” He nodded his understanding, and she continued, “And Americans really did send troops over there.”

“They’re not fighting anyone,” Regulus pointed out.

“That’s because they’re a MASH unit,” she said. At his blank face, she added, “Mobile Army Surgical Hospital. They’re doctors—healers, whatever—and they treat people who were wounded in the war.”

“Why would anyone choose to do that?” he asked, bewildered.

She snorted. “Oh, they didn’t choose it, most of them. They got drafted.” He looked confused again, so she elaborated, “You know, conscription? Picking random citizens to go fight?”

“That’s barbaric!” Regulus declared, horrified.

“No shit,” she said dryly. “Now shut up; Hawk takes his shirt off in this one and I don’t want you distracting me from his hotness.”

“You— you find this man attractive?” he demanded, looking astonished.

Sera rolled her eyes. “Duh, look at him.”

“He’s got dark hair and light eyes,” Regulus observed. “He’s tall and rather thin— I am your type, then.” He settled back against the couch cushions, satisfied. “Lovely.”

“You are so not my type,” she said, like a liar.

After that, Regulus spent a great deal of time at Malfoy Manor bothering Sera.

She could admit to herself, however begrudgingly, that he was occasionally interesting to be around. He was intelligent and well-spoken, and he seemed to genuinely want to hear her thoughts on things.

Not that she’d ever tell him that, of course.

“We should go out to dinner,” he decided one afternoon.

Sera scowled at him from her place on the couch as she pet Beo, who was asleep in her lap. “Absolutely not.”

He frowned. “It’s a grand idea.”

“It most certainly is not a grand idea,” she said, mimicking his stupid fancy boy accent.

“Very well, then,” he acquiesced, plopping down next to her on the couch, far too close for her liking. “We can stay here.”

She scowled again. “Or, fun alternative,” she said slowly, “you could leave.”

“No,” he hummed thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think I will. Your family likes me.”

“They like you because you’re rich.”

Regulus shrugged. “The end result remains the same.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed.

It wasn’t until several hours later, when she fell asleep on his shoulder, that he carried her to bed; Beo trotting after them. 

Very softly, he said something to her, and whatever it was made her smile and nuzzle into her pillow, but she drifted off before his words could register.

September, 1984

Hogwarts

Scotland

Before Sera knew it, she got her acceptance letter and was off to Hogwarts.

Everything happened so fast that it felt like a whirlwind; she was sorted into Ravenclaw with Yarrow, and they were to share a dorm room. Yarrow didn’t even mind that Sera had a kitten and wanted to put up a mezuzah on their door frame.

She was honestly very excited for almost all of her classes: Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic, and—tragically—Potions. She was also taking two elective courses in Ancient Studies and Magical Theory, both of which sounded fascinating.

“Really, Miss Malfoy,” her Head of House, Mr. Flitwick, was saying, “Llumos Solem solem is not a terribly complex spell for a witch of your level. I trust that you will be able to perfect it with ease, based on your examination scores.”

“I can, yeah,” Sera agreed immediately. “The issue isn’t the spell or how difficult it is, sir, it’s the fact that me using a wand doesn’t go well.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine,” the teacher assured her.

Sera winced, glancing back at Yarrow, who was looking on with raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

“Remember, Miss Malfoy,” her teacher said, watching the way she held her wand closely, “lumos solem.”

Sera nodded, furrowing her brow in concentration and trying her damnedest to not put too much power behind the spell. Very softly, her voice almost a murmur, she said, “Lumos solem.”

A ball of light emerged from her wand, and it rather closely resembled the sun. It was hot, as if she were in an inferno, and the force of it knocked her onto her ass before she could put it out, but Mr. Flitwick quickly waved his own wand to disperse the bright, burning light.

“I think, Miss Malfoy,” Mr. Flitwick said after a tense moment of silence, “perhaps it would be best if you didn’t use a wand.”

She didn’t notice when several weeks had passed.

She did notice when an unfamiliar owl dropped a letter in her lap at breakfast one morning.

She looked at the front; the envelope was sealed in green wax, a weird, morbid-looking crest on the front. If she looked very closely, she could see that it had three ravens on it, a hand holding a dagger, what appeared to be a skull, and some French written on a weird scroll at the bottom. Bizarre.

She frowned, opened it curiously, and began to read.

Miss Malfoy,

I hope you’re settling in well. Your aunt tells me that you were Sorted into Ravenclaw. I must admit I’m disappointed you weren’t put in my own House, though I don’t doubt that you deserve a spot in the House of wit.

I would very much like to see you, perhaps during a Hogsmeade weekend. I assure you I am privy to all the best places to go and things to do in the village, so your time will be well-spent, even if you do not particularly enjoy my company just yet. Please let me know when would be best.

Yours,

R. A. Black

“Who’s that from?” Yarrow wanted to know, looking up from her vegetarian omelet.

“Lord Black,” Sera said mockingly. “He ‘would very much like to see me’, as he put it.” She made air quotes and rolled her eyes.

Yarrow’s eyes widened. “He really fancies you, doesn’t he?”

Sera scowled. “I hope not. He’s a jackass.”

Yarrow bit back a smile. “Is he now?”

“Don’t look at me like that!” Sera groaned miserably. “Just ‘cause he’s hot doesn’t mean I—“

“Oh, so he’s hot now, is he?” her friend tittered. “I thought he was a jackarse.”

“He is,” Sera insisted. “He’s just a very sexy jackass.”

Yarrow grinned. “You must write him back.”

Sera recoiled so much she damn near fell off the bench. “I’ll do no such thing!”

“Oh, honestly.” Her friend rolled her eyes. “He’s the most eligible bachelor in the country. I find him repulsive physically and even I’d marry him!”

“Dunno how you can find him repulsive,” Sera grumbled into her oatmeal. “Either way, he’s trying to ‘court’ me or whatever, and I’m not having it. No thank you to that.”

Yarrow dropped her fork, and it clattered onto her plate. “He wants to what?”

“Court me,” Sera said dully, taking a bite of her food. “Or so he says.”

“And you said no?”

“Doesn’t seem to have deterred him.” She shrugged. “Maybe my lack of response will do the trick.”

Her lack of response did not, in fact, deter Regulus. He sent her letters fairly regularly, and she always said she wouldn’t read them, but she ended up caving every time.

The letters usually contained things like him bemoaning the fact that she wouldn’t respond to him, stories about his life and schooling, things he wanted to know about her, and—more than a few times—how ‘utterly enchanting’ he found her. His words.

She would be nineteen at the end of October, on the 29th, which was a Monday. However, the following Wednesday was Halloween, and they were permitted to visit a nearby village called Hogsmeade starting after classes let out.

The morning of her birthday, yet another letter arrived from Regulus, except this one was… heavier than normal. She opened it and pulled the paper out, beginning to read.

Miss Malfoy,

I hope your birthday is as lovely as you are. Please accept this small token of my admiration. Your aunt has accepted an invitation to my family’s annual Christmas ball on your behalf, and I ask that you wear this gift for it.

I hope to see you soon.

Yours,

R. A. Black

Yarrow, who had snatched the envelope, pulled a necklace out. Sera’s mouth fell open when she saw it.

The necklace was a woven platinum snake with tiny emeralds amongst the diamonds covering the entire thing, and, astonishingly, a large emerald hanging from the mouth of the snake, as well as three more on either side of it, all the size of her thumb.

Sera could do nothing but stare.

Yarrow, however, laughed outright as she pulled out the pair of matching earrings. “Oh, this is just—“ She cut herself off, collapsing into giggles.

Sera took the necklace from her friend to inspect it, turning it over in her hands.

The emeralds had to be fake, right? They just had to be.

Apparently, she’d said that out loud, because Yarrow fought down more giggles and said, “Oh, no. Those aren’t fake. Emeralds and diamonds. Check the back of the center gemstone.”

Sera blinked in confusion but did as she’d been told.

To her absolute horror, the Black family crest was engraved into the setting.

“Their crest is there, then?” When Sera could only nod, speechless, Yarrow snorted in a rare moment of minor inelegance. “I thought as much. It’s called the Ophiuchus. He gave you a family heirloom, darling. Bloke must be hard as a rock for you.”

“What am I gonna do?” Sera breathed, dejected and at a loss.

Yarrow shrugged. “Marry him, of course.”

“I can’t do that!”

“You could do a hell of a lot worse.”

Sera wasn’t sure that that was true. Hopefully, she’d never have to find out. 

Regulus is so fun to write lol

Big thanks, as always, to the lovely @lilmaymayy for betaing this for me 💗 and of course Sof’s fucking phenomenal moodboard, as per usual

Tag list:

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland

To be added, please ask 💗

[butmakeitgayblog]

We’re you always the queen of writing smut or did it take a lot of practice?

I can’t write it. I’m terrible at it. It all feels too fake and porny when I’m writing it. But reading yours is like… damn, so good chefs kiss gimme more

Any tips? Guidance, sensei?

Akshdljkf oh oof baby. First of all, thank you for having that kind of faith in me or at the very least thinking any thing of the sort about my writing🥴 I have to graciously say that I don't think I am in any way a queen of anything, much less smut, much less for this fandom. I think that crown is securely shared by a few other far more talented writers than me who time and again knock it out of the park. I am but a humble reader and fan of theirs as much as anyone. But still, I appreciate the kind message and the thought behind it, I honestly do.

That being said, eh I mean 🤷‍♀️. I'm no expert, I had never written fiction of any kind before CoA, my first fic. I've kinda just tried my best and winged it and written what I like to read and what I see in my head. As silly as it sounds considering we're talking about smut, I think reading a lot of the kind of work you're trying to write helps. Different stories from different authors who you know are good at the genre you want for your own work. Seeing the different methods they use to go about tackling sce es, integrating styles and things you like and changing things don't like until you find what inspires you. Evaluating scenes from works you like and seeing what you find hot and what doesn't, what flows and gives feelings and what feels like it dosen't, all things to help you create your own style. I read A Lot of smutty fanfic before ever dipping my toe into the writers pool, so when I did take the jump it was after having seen a multitude of different stuff and just internalizing the stuff that was enjoyable for me and then using those tools to create my own voice.

Idk what to say to make you feel better about your own work because obvs idk what it is, but I can say don't always trust your own evaluation or reaction of your work. You've read it a million times so it'll always feel flat and predictable, but to someone else it's new so they're not gonna read it the same way you do. If it still feels stilted, take a step back. Question yourself on what is happening that's making it feel that way. Are there any emotions going on? What are the characters thinking and feeling? Are you focusing too hard on mechanics? You don't want sex to read like an IKEA instruction manual lol so maybe what you have to do is reroute yourself to get away from that. Try and write a sex scene without any technical sex jargon. Try and do it through some prose and verbiage of sensuality, using indirect imagery that lets the reader create the rest of the picture in their own mind.

So for example instead of just "Clarke nipped and sucked Lexa's nipples until they were hard", it becomes "each scrape of Clarke's teeth over the bud of Lexa's breast drew out a sinful moan, feeling her writhe against her mouth as she soothed the ache with a wet suck of her lips. She lapped at the pebbled skin, nipples pulling taut beneath her tongue as she licked circles—" yada yada yada, whatever. But see what I mean? You're basically saying the exact same thing in each case, but the first one just flatly says what they're doing, the other is speaking in actions which paints a picture for the reader to fill in in their head. That's the only even sort-of advice I can give on that. Smut is something people don't wanna just read, they wanna imagine it (no matter how much they may try to lie about that😐) and having a scene that they can immerse themselves in and mental create a picture tends to be what works. In my most humble of opinions at least.

[lou-struck]

Pumpkins and Paint

Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Flufftober Day 12:- Painting Pumpkins

~You surprise your boyfriend with some less messy seasonal fun

Your grocery bags are a bit heavier than usual today since you had to pick up a little seasonal surprise for your boyfriend.

Logically you know that you probably should take the groceries inside in more than one trip so you don’t spill anything, but you live your life under the philosophy that; One should never take more than one trip to put away the groceries, so you end up with all the bags tucked in your arms. But once your car door shut you realize that the bags could tear and spill their contents all over Sakusa’s Driveway.

With your phone tossed haphazardly into one of the bags you have no way to call him for help so you do your best to waddle to the front door. Each step comes with the small sound of your paper grocery bags tearing slightly. It only makes you speed up your little waddle until you finally make it up the concrete step of Kiyoomi's porch.

With an awkward lean into the doorbell, you are able to press the button with the tip of your elbow. The door swings open revealing the handsome face of Kiyoomi Sakusa. Upon seeing you with your arms full sighs and shakes his head in mock disapproval.

“You didn't want to take two trips did you?”

“Omi,” you huff, “Why would I take two trips if I could carry all the bags in one?” This brings a smile to your boyfriend's lips as he takes some of the bags from your arms.

Upon noticing the weight a look of confusion crosses his face and he tries to peek inside one of the bags “What do you have in here? Rocks?” he asks as you walk to the kitchen.

“Wait, don't look yet.” you say quickly “I have a surprise.”

Not wanting to deny you of presenting him with your surprise. He steps back.

Gently you reach into the bags and pull out two small pie pumpkins, and a box of painting supplies.

“ See? “You ask holding it out towards him “we can paint them. I know you don’t like carving pumpkins since it’s so messy and you don’t like the smell. They last way longer than carved pumpkins and they won't rot on the porch.”

“That’s really a good idea,” he says wrapping his arms around you and kissing the crown of your head. “You know me too well.”

“That’s my job,” you beam feeling at home in his arms.

“Hmm, but If you get any paint on my table I will not be happy.” he teases squeezing you a bit tighter. With a giggle, you squirm out of his grasp and grab an old newspaper to lay down on your workspace You take out the art supplies as well as a few markers so you can trace the designs. 

As you prep the table, Kiyoomi gingerly scoops up the pumpkins and takes them to the sink so h can wash them with his usual diligence. He scrubs them with warm water to erase any trace of dirt or sticker residue before drying them with a fluffy towel.

With everything ready you begin to trace the outline of a ghost you saw in a picture online. The slight groves of the pumpkin make it harder than you anticipated but you finish the outline of your slightly lumpy ghost.

Curiously you peer over at your boyfriend's pumpkin to see what he is doing. It’s still early in his outline but you know what he is drawing already.

“Omi,” you tease “ are you really drawing a volleyball on the pumpkin?”

“ Maybe, “he chuckles his brow furloughing in concentration as he finishes the outline of his perfect circle. He really is good at everything. It makes you want to dedicate more time to your ghost.

You try your best to smooth your outline and fill it in as evenly as you can. Just as you begin to fill in the outline with a layer of white paint you feel a comfortable weight on your shoulder. You dont even have to look, The smell of fresh linens and shampoo gives him away.

“What are you drawing,” your boyfriend asks looking at your outlined blob.

“Can’t you see it? I’m doing a Ghost,” you say pointing to the design.

“Hmm,” he says tilting his head to try to visualize it better “It kinda looks like an egg.”

“I’m not done yet.” you scoff defensively, “let me see yours.” reaching over you turn his pumpkin and you come face to face with a picture-perfect volleyball sketch, it even is adorned with a little angry face.” Why does it look so good? Your eyes widen at the masterpiece and you catch a glimpse of Kiyoomi’s proud smile

“Do you like it?”

“Yes…” you mumble turning your attention to your ghost, “it really does look an egg” With a shrug of your shoulder, you decide to embrace the idea that your pumpkin looks more like an egg. With a few strokes of your brush and a small circle of yellow paint to resemble the yolk, you look at your finished masterpiece.

“Arent we an odd pair.” your boyfriend says looking at your pumpkins, “A volleyball and an egg.”

“We are a bit weird.” you giggle taking your pumpkin off of the newspaper. “Let's take this outside to dry.”

With your artwork in your hands, the two of you go to put them on your porch. You shut the door leaving the rest of the groceries that need to be unloaded forgotten.

[fantomette22]

QUICK!! LET’S TALK ABOUT YOUR FIC CAINHURST OCS SO WE CAN INVITE THEM TO ME AND BIMBOM’S OC TEA PARTY AND WATCH THEM ALL FIGHT!!

OH OK Ok !!!

So i will keep it to my main fic « OCs »because if i add the 3 version of Maria family tree or smt it’s never gonna be over 😂

Potential lil spoilers for my fic too ahah (but I didn’t put any big spoils!) Also some are complete Ocs but other are based on the portrait or even fit in the lore and could be more of an oc with a prompt /interpretation. And funny things to note but literally more than half of my bloodborne ocs are from Cainhurst 😂

Ok let’s begin with Vledemyr!

The young newest addition to the royal guard. Maria & Annalise cousin & friend, future head of the royal guard of Annalise (and one of the most powerful vileblood one day). In my notes I said he is 4y older than Maria and 1y older than Annalise. That guy is like the mvp of cainhurst. Best inhabitant of Cain after Maria probably. I already talk about him I think ( I love him so much). Ok he would do anything for Annalise yeah but Maria too. Always here to watch over her like an older brother. He’s a bit overprotective of the girls when they were young yeah. Really a great support character, the ideal knight ! He’s not annoying like the rest of the typical cainhurst nobles too. His only default is maybe to be too loyal and obey order without contradicted them. Oh and he’s the one who take care of the crows & raven of the castle. (He’s the best that’s why you need to know)

Lady Sveta/ Svetta smt (kinda place holder name)

she’s a young noble lady from Cainhurst, similar age to Annalise and a close friend of her, Vledemyr, Maria etc She’s a calm & thoughtful lady who managed to become quite influential over the years at Cainhurst despite her young age. She’s not a knight but like most aristocratic cainhurst ladies she was taught how to weld a dagger at least. (Vled taught her quite a few extra tips too!)

Charles : What can I tell about him without telling too much🤔 He’s Maria, Annalise & Vledemyr childhood friend. His family don’t live at Cainhurst anymore and he’s not a super high class noble. The executioner gloves came from his family yep. He was a students at Byrgenwerth too. He begin his course 1y before Maria (1 year older). As a kid the 2 were really the inseparable little trouble makers of Cainhurst 😂 He grew more mature since but could cause troubles if he wish XD (a bit like Laurence, when told them NO and they say YES.) Yeah he’s a lil bastard basically but I love him.

He hope one to impress the noble from Cainhurst and have an important place one day. And you know help restore the great strength Cainhurst lost over time (it’s the shadow of it’s former glory)

He could have quite a decisive role at some point…

Richard, he’s the precedent king consort of cainhurst and Annalise’s father. Poor guy, so much stuff is going on in front of his salad and he can’t do anything about it xD. Yeah he’s not really the one in charge the old ladies of their council don’t even consult him every time ;-; but he’s trying his best and dream of a day where Cainhurst would be xxx again! Of course he’s not perfect but he tried. For exemple he’s really compatissant with Maria wanting to go study far from cainhurst and travel when she’s supposed to become a royal guard. And he prepared Annalise as best as he could and preferred to take pressure on himself than on his dear daughter. Still, sometimes (bc it’s his right) he’s wearing one of the most precious tresor of cainhurst. One of the crown of illusion. Said to diccipe & create illusion in the ancient times. The 2nd crown was lost century ago far into the plumerias labyrinth and all it’s just a normal crown now. All it’s mystic power seems to have disappear long ago…

Well there’s the late queen I guess. (Don’t have a name yet sorry) she was loved by her subject and yeah typical queen too. She was actually the one to try to begin expedition to pthumerians underground again. After decades/centuries of nothing because cainhurst was to salty at the war their loose against their cousins

The ex body guard of the queen (I don’t have a name yet 😐). Will be relevant at some point… He was originally a mercenary hiring by Cainhurst to go to Loran. One of the only person who came back and they made him knight for his exploit. He even become the Queen’s personal bodyguard. He mysteriously disappeared some times after the Queen passed away…

The Royal guard captain? Or at least one of the head of the knights (when Maria was a student at Byrgenwerth). He’s an asshole. Other instructors are much sympthetic but this guy omg… you will understand when the time come. He’s really strict, almost abusive and doesn’t support when you contradict him or try to insult him to his face 😬

3 squires : future royal guards in training about Maria’s age. The 4 of them are supposed to become the next royal guards & Annalise personal guard.

(Maria is on the right & Vledemyr supervise them. It’s a meme too xD)

There’s a young woman (chikage and Evelyn) and two young men, one really strong with 2 chikages and the other one wielding a reiterpallasch and an Evelyn)

I need names too. And I can’t tell you really much more for now.

The next 3 are inspired by a song my friend made.

Twins musician : 2 of the most incredible musicians of Cainhurst. They both can play a clavecin in sync for exemple. And really fast

The master of dance/maestro : He teach the young noble how to spar & dance. And is a bit crazy really XD he often wear a knight helmet with a black suit.

Oh I almost forgot but the chiefs cook ! They come from the same country as Yamamura. If you do shit with their food or tried to cook one of their signature dishes horribly they will fight you.

Then I guess there’s Maria’s close family & other relatives ? You know her parents, the other nobles (but not really ocs more like background character you know) and her annoying grand aunts… 🤣 « But Annalise you can’t stand grand aunt Suzanne either ! »

The birds (crows mostly), horses and dogs don’t count I guess rip 💔 (I’m looking for names too. Yes they are important and relevant background characters)

I know Bloody Crow is not an OC but does baby Bloody Crow (when he was a baby/kid/teens) aka Voron count ? 🥺 No? ok. All I will say for now is that Maria is his godmother.

Ok so Leo don’t count either I guess so not for today. I don’t think his half siblings : Lupin & sister count either XD they are not noble and from Hemwick so (also in the family of my dear hunter)

There’s one last cainhurst oc I have… I think… but hm i can’t really talk about it (a lil secret kinda) I will only say that this oc was a young and sweet little girl who loved flowers and her family. She is deeply missed.

Anyway can’t wait see a hell of a typical Cainhurst duel on the table 👀 oh I mean tea party sorry x)

[carmen-fics-for-thee]

Series: A Date With Devineaux Part 1

The Deal - Grey x Tigress, Carmen x Chase

Summary: Grey knew about her feelings for a while. But if Tigress wanted to date him, she needed to be nice to Carmen. Easy peasy, right? (Genuinely think these two have good chemistry and want to explore the vibe they have. ...But will it work? Can a good boy tame an evil heart, or will disaster strike?)

...

She saw it when it was time to nab the stamp. That look in Carmen's eyes as she threatened the detective with her claws. Ooh, could this possibly be a crush...? Carmen didn't usually look so distressed when other innocent lives were at stake. Laughing, she'd decided to just steal the stamp in her own signature way. The way Carmen freaked out was just so... cute.

But the way Grey freaked out on her afterwards? Not so cute.

Months after he was de-brainwashed, she'd told him about how funny Carmen was.

"That girl is so kidding herself if she thinks that guy would ever fall for her!"

Grey glared at her.

"Dude, it's a crush. It doesn't have to make sense!"

Tigress chuckled.

"Still protecting Carmen? Come on. She stabbed us in the back. Why should we feel bad for her?"

He looked down and sighed.

"She was trying to do the right thing. She didn't know how ruthless they'd made us."

"Ughh! Why do you care so much anyway?"

Mm. A bad attitude. Grey knew how to fix that.

Reaching out, he held her hand. She didn't pull away.

"Tigress. She's like a sister to me. I saw someone who needed help and I helped her. Don't you have someone like that?"

She looked at him pitiably. There was a long silence.

"Oh."

Scoffing, she looked away bitterly. Hesitating for a moment, he took his hand and put it on her cheek, turning her face to look at him.

"Hey... It's okay. I can be there for you now."

She laughed. And she didn't know why. It was half-happy, half-insane.

"Grey, please. We all know how this is going to go. You'll be there for me now, but when Carmen comes along, all eyes will be on her. Only her..."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Hey, I promise to stay with you. You're the one I want, and even though I'm protective of her, I won't let that ruin us! I love you."

The words were out faster than he thought they would be. Tigress looked at him with a sad smile.

"I love you too."

They kissed, and no more words were said.

...

Tigress encountered Carmen while civillian shopping for clothes. Carmen was immediately suspicious, but she shrugged.

"Not everything I do has to be crime." She said nonchalantly. "Sometimes I want to get stuff legally; it's easier to relax."

"Then what are you doing here?! The mall that just got a showpiece of Britain's oldest crown jewels? Why not a different, smaller mall?"

Her eyebrow raised. It was tempting, yes...

She shrugged.

"I didn't even know that was here."

"Right."

"Honest! I didn't even know you'd be here. Nice getup, by the way. 2010 was a decade ago."

Carmen scoffed.

"Really? It's newer than whatever you're wearing."

Tigress laughed.

"Ooooo, looks like the Black Sheep can fight back~"

There was a ruckus down below. Extra security had been brought to the exhibit just in case V.I.L.E. tried anything. Among them was Chase Devineaux. Carmen gasped. If he was here, he could be harmed!

Also spotting him, Tigress looked smugly at her nails.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to scare you with another pickpocket."

Grey's voice in her head told her to be nice, but this was just too delicious to pass up!

Carmen scoffed.

"He doesn't even have anything valuable this time."

Pausing for a second, Tigress spoke what she felt was true.

"Only your heart."

"What?!"

Her eyes had widened in that same way as on the docks. Oh yes. Delightful.

"Don't worry. I won't tell him... In fact, I think you'd make a cute couple."

Carmen felt all the feelings inside her swirl around. She needed to sit down. She felt sick. Shaking her head, she looked away.

"I-I can't. He'd arrest me..."

Tigress tipped her head.

"What if he doesn't, though? Hm. Doesn't though. Kinda rhymes with Devineaux..."

Carmen thought for a while, her eyes still on the floor. Since she wasn't saying anything, Tigress decided to elaborate.

"...I know a guy. Real good disguises. Hey. Maybe we can dress you up for a date with him."

Looking up, there seemed to be a spark of hope in her eyes.

Smiling, Tigress patted Carmen on the back.

"Come on, I can take you to his shop."

She hesitated.

"W-why are you being so nice to me?"

Tigress shrugged.

"Grey's orders."

"Oh."

Carmen smiled.

"How is he, by the way?"

"Yeah, he's doing great! Really happy ever since we started going out!"

"Nice. Congrats."

She raised her hand slowly to shake Tigress'. Tigress was quick though, and shook her hand fast.

"Thanks. And you know, I think this could be a good thing for you. Haven't seen you all goo-goo eyed in a while." She joked. Carmen laughed.

It truly did seem like Tigress was trying to be kinder for Grey's benefit, and she appreciated that.

...

Back at headquarters, Tigress chuckled to herself. This was just perfect.

"Great plan, Walt!" She purred. "In the middle of the date, the disguise slips off, Inspector Devineaux realizes Carmen tricked him and arrests her, Carmen's heart shatters, and Grey is all ours!!"

"Are you sure that will work, ma'am?"

She snapped back.

"Of course I'm sure! Now, watch the magic happen."

Tigress' laughing voice echoed throughout the room, a sense of doom wafting in the air.

(End Part 1)

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

hope you feel better, eclair <3

--

Tsunagu is drunk. He’s not drunk drunk, beer’s a little bit too light for that. He’d call himself tipsy at best. Everything feels warm, and fuzzy, and his body is loose and relaxed. He hasn’t felt like this for years, with… everything going on. He’s sitting up high, in the crow’s nest, sipping on beer, enjoying the wind and how the moon lights the clouds up, staining them silver. Tsunagu sighs, leaning backwards, back against body-warmed wood and legs crossed. 

He props his head on a hand and looks at the stars. Up there was the six-headed serpent of the seas, Nilau- they were a ferocious beast, the wrath of the ocean incarnate. Storms, lighting, and tragedy followed in their bath. Nilau’s longest head, curved fangs of stars dripping nebulae, pointed towards their rival. Ichimi.

Ichimi’s myth was slightly older than Nilau’s, if only because the latter was linked to the ocean, but Ichimi was linked to the winds. She is the fortune-favoured, the remmanents of a long-dead ship, blessed and cursed by the world as a whole. Ichimi had once had a captain, crew, and they sailed her all around the world. 

Then Nilau stuck. Death. Tragedy. Two new fated rivals, each with a burning hatred for one another- and in the sky, the center of their constellations pointed in two different directions, fundamental opposites. Ichimi’s was true north, the homecoming star, and with her story that was a tragedy in motion. What was a ship without her crew? Where was the crew without their ship? 

Nilau was the ever-shifting star, forever moving across the sky. The star crowning their belly was erratic, dimming one night then flaring up the other. It was said that whenever their star flared, a storm happened. 

It had been bright, brighter than Ichimi’s star, the past week or two. The curse was affecting the ocean. 

Tsunagu takes another sip of the beer. If the star did predict storms, and it might, then the entire ocean was fucked. He supposed that it was, but, well, the sky didn’t need to call all of them out for this. 

He stands up. The beer is finished, and if he gets any more drunk, Tsunagu might legitimately need to stay up here for a few hours. The ropes of the ship are as sturdy as ever, and his hands are steady as he attaches himself to the zipline someone had rigged up. Tsunagu checks the knots, pulls once, and jumps. 

Wind rushes through his hair, and Tsunagu can’t help but let out a ringing, resounding, laugh. His momentum carries him until the end, which is when the rope stops, and oh shit he’s forgotten how to- 

Water catches him. 

“Really, Tsunagu?” It places him gently onto the deck of the ship, untying knots. 

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven’t done the same.” Tsunagu puts the rope down. “...Thanks.” 

“Mhm,” Shinya says, nursing a bottle of- 

“Is that- wind-wine?” Holy shit, a bottle was worth double its weight in gold. What the fuck, Shinya. Then again. This was the Cursed Captain. Tsunagu really should stop being surprised at the levels of 'how the fuck' he generates. 

“Yep.” Shinya takes another sip. He’s sitting on top of a wooden crate, legs dangling and with two more bottles at his side. He tips the mouth of the bottle towards Tsunagu. “Want some?” 

-

Oh, they’re both so fucking drunk. Tsunagu giggles at the sight of Shinya trying to put his hat down… or it could be the other way around. He’s not sure. “No, wait, captain- cappy-tan?” Tsunagu pauses, enthralled by this line of thought. “Capya?” He wonders out loud? 

“What?” Shinya squints at him. Over the course of the thirty minutes they’ve been drinking, he has downed more cups than Tsunagu. To be honest, if Shinya could walk in a straight line, he’d be very impressed. Wind-wine was strong. Very strong. “Who?” 

“You, silly.” Tsunagu tries to poke him in the side, fails, and almost falls of the crate, and wow was that not fun. “Ow…” His face falls. 

“Clumsy,” Shinya says. “But also cute. You’re kinda like a, like-“ He waves his hand though the air, searching for words. Then he turns and claps his hands down on either side of Tsunagu, straddling him in the process. “Deer. That’s the thing. A little clumsy baby deer.” 

Tsunagu cocks his head. “W-huh?” His voice goes high-pitched at the end there, but how was he supposed to respond to that?” Shinya hums. 

“Mhm. An infuriating little shit. But a very cute one… you’re warm.” He slumps closer to Tsunagu. 

“You know what?” Tsunagu reaches for the bottle. “I think we both need more alcohol.” 

“Yep,” Shinya sleepily says. “It’s good. Makes everything a little less sharp…”

-

“You are making- making my exis- exists- life so weird! It’s hard!” Shinya flings his arms up, pacing on the deck, back and forth. “I keep looking at you and it’s like, oh hey Tsunagu’s looking good today. And no! You do not look good! You are maddening!” 

Tsunagu pouts. “You’re not even alive alive, why are you complaining? If anything, you’re the one haunt- ghosting? Ghosting me! Don’t blame me, blame yourself and Midnight! She choked me out! I was literally kidnapped!” 

“Oh, and who was the one that got cursed again?” Shinya whirls around and stabs a finger in his direction. 

“You, from the last time I checked-“ Shinya pulls at the ocean to tug him down. “W- I- hey!” He straddles Tsunagu, sitting on his stomach. 

“You,” Shinya snaps out, jabbing a finger to his face. Tsunagu can’t help but notice the way the moonlight reflects off of him, turning pretty in to perfect. Shinya looks like he’s carved from marble, and the only thing stopping him from being a statue- cold, unfeeling, uncaring of all troubles, is the scowl on his face. Tsunagu wants to touch it. Make him mad. “And your stupid, pretty, fucking- fucking green eyes! I want to strangle you.” 

The first thought that comes to Tsunagu’s mind is Shinya’s hot when he’s mad and how the fuck and huh??. But this is what he says “Like you’re tall enough to reach, captain.” A grin slides onto his face, taunting, mocking, menacing.

Shinya makes a noise humans usually wouldn’t be able to. A mix between a snarl and a growl, and he bares his teeth. “You’ve sunk low enough for me to reach, rich boy," He snaps out. "I could just-"

Their faces are so close together. If a strong wind blew they would be kissing. Tsunagu can smell the sugar put into the wind-wine from here. "Could just what?"

Shinya responds by throwing water into his face.

--

the BANTER... i love writing these two, wish i could expand more on this scene, but alas. real life (derogatory) they have a water fight and another almost-confession and they check each other out with wet clothes (jeanist wears white, right) and then they get semi-sick in the morning, cant remember almost all of it, and then they Regret™

-story anon

HEHEHEHEHHHE >:D

Thank you- this definitely made me feel 100 times better!!!

They love each other but don’t tell them that- they “hate” one another-

The MYTHS <3333

God I love them sm-

[sangopearls]

— them with a high-energy s/o

CW: NONE APPLICABLE.

“Would you be willing to write for female characters? If so, can i have Kokomi and Ayaka with a high energy s/o? Btw your writing is really good!”

💌 @dragonqueenofice

went with the leading four 5-star inazuma ladies for this one <3333

characters featured: ayaka, yoimiya, baal, kokomi

kamisato ayaka ✧˖*࿐

she’s so mellow and patient she would kinda just roll with your flow. it’s the dead of night but you wanna climb down to the beaches of her estate and collect seashells? give her a second to fix her hair and she’ll be outside

when ayaka first saw the message her attendant handed to her, she knew exactly who sent it.

“the beach, midnight, bring the biggest bag you can- we’re seashell gathering!” the message reads, “P.S.- don’t worry about your guards catching us. i’ve caught on to their friday night drinking habits! ;)”

ayaka chuckles to herself and folds the letter neatly.

“my lady? what were the contents of such a message?” her attendant asks.

ayaka shakes her head. “could you please prepare me a large bag and a coat on my dresser before i go to bed tonight?” she requests.

“of course, my lady,” the attendant replies with a bow, “are you going somewhere? i can ask a guard to escort you?”

“that’s a secret to be kept between me and the sender of this letter,” she says with a smile.

yoimiya ✧˖*࿐

you guys are both super enthusiastic and only feed off of each other i pity any tired person around you

but nevertheless, this leads to loads of fun all the time

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]!” yoimiya squeals, “c’mon, the fireworks show is about to begin!”

“aw, but just one more round of darts!” you protest, “if i pop that gold balloon, i win that big tanuki plushie for you!”

“it’ll be there after the show!” she counters, gripping your hand, “let’s go! i have a special spot!”

with a tug, yoimiya runs up the hill of the festival venue, your kitsune mask nearly flying off your head. she runs almost too quickly for the average human, but the speed and her enthusiasm rips fits of laughter out of you as you follow your girlfriend uphill. she stops under the tree at the crest of the hill and places her hands on her hips.

“sit down, [Y/N], this is the best seat in the house!” she proclaims proudly, watching as you do as told.

“you better join me,” you tease, grabbing her hand and yanking her down so that you can lean your head on her shoulder. she wraps her arms around your head to hold you still as she places a kiss to the crown of your head.

“keep your eyes peeled, [Y/N],” yoimiya advises, “i was careful to pack extra fireworks in your favorite color.”

baal ✧˖*࿐

poor baal

it’s hard to maintain an empire of tyranny when your needy energetic s/o wants cuddles constantly 🙄🙄🙄 just girly things ig

“baal, are you almost done?” you ask from your chair in her office.

“[Y/N], i still have to finish approving these permits,” she grumbles, completing another one with a swift stroke of her brush and setting it aside. an entire stack still awaits her acknowledgment.

“aw… but i’m so needy, baal,” you coo, putting your jaw in your hands and glancing at the floor, watching your feet shuffle, “c’mon, the almighty shogun can’t take a break to give her beloved a kiss?”

“i’ll give you plenty of kisses once we go to bed,” she promises, albeit somewhat frustrated at your neediness, “but i am the ruler and that comes with more than its fair share of work.”

you stand and approach her, swinging one of your legs over her legs and sitting on her lap, her face just inches from yours. she glances up, a storm of anger brewing in her violet eyes, meeting your dopey grin. you peck a kiss to the tip of her nose and chuckle to yourself. the woman sighs and presses her lips to yours for a moment before pulling back, her expression as stony as before.

“now move,” she says, despite a dust of pink across the high points of her cheeks, “that stunt you pulled must’ve put me two documents behind schedule.”

sangonomiya kokomi ✧˖*࿐

like ayaka, she’s also pretty level-headed.

she also finds your childlike spirit absolutely adorable and has a wide variety of sweet names for you :)

“kokomi! kokomi!” you call, opening the door to the room where she drafts military plans, “while i was out exploring, i found so many sango pearls!”

the young woman glances up and smiles. “i love those!” she gasps, “i used to gather them all the time when i was little. i’m so grateful you like it here at watatsumi island, angel.”

you place your collection of pearls on her desk. “i love it here. it’s so colorful, it takes my breath away every time,” you sigh, “let’s go for a stroll! are you up for a break?”

kokomi weighs her options. “just a little one?”

you nod your head. “unless you wanna stay with me longer!”

kokomi giggles and stands. “as you wish, my love,” she weaves her delicate hand into yours and places a kiss to your cheek, “such a distraction… you truly are a challenge for my work ethic, but indeed a welcome one.”

[phantomrose96]

Joyrider

(Welcome to another warm-up writing piece. cw for mild body horror)

...

The mall food court doubled rather nicely as a battle-dome.

It fit the bill: a flat and circular arena, crowned two-stories up by a hemisphere of glass windows which lapsed iridescent in the maelstrom of ecto-fire.

Spectator chairs sat empty, hastily shoved back and knocked over by the Amity Park mall patrons who knew to leg it at the first sound of explosions and the first sign of the atmosphere tipping dark. Admittedly, the patron evacuation took longer than Danny anticipated, and he backed himself into a corner playing defense for the 50 some-odd people who, worn-out on the every-day mundanity of ghost alarms, took their time gathering belongings, or shutting off burners, or working in a few last bites of a burger.

So with the crowd gone and the stage their own, Danny found himself pressed back against a vat of french fry oil, hands braced against the handle of a broom he held out horizontally, which the ghost gripped with equal measure and shoved her full weight against.

“Oh, why not take a little dip, Ghost Boy? I hear the water’s nice.”

“No thanks,” Danny answered, shoving harder. “I never was much of a hot tub guy. You on the other hand—”

Danny set a foot forward and pivoted, body fueling the torque as he spun the broom, and tore the ghost with him, a pirouette to swap their spots and jam the ghost back-pressed to the fryer.

“—you seem like you’d like it hot.”

The ghost barked a laugh, jaw stretching lower and loose than Danny was comfortable with.

“Ha! You sure? Not very heroic of you to deep fry this girl I’m possessing.”

Danny faltered. His grip slipped. His blood chilled to ice as the information clicked in place – as he recognized the sensation of a ghost talking through someone. This wasn’t the ghost’s own form. This was some girl. How had he not felt—

A blast took him by the ribs. Danny doubled over, immediately kicked back. A foot found contact with his face, driving him down, until the girl’s wet and slippery fingers pinned him down by the wrists.

Danny strained. He could pivot his wrist a fraction of an inch left or right, but he could not break the hold.

“Get off me!”

And a voice answered from behind him.

“I can help with that.”

Danny craned his neck. Upside down, vantage point from the floor, he registered Sam’s combat boots slam into focus. She bent to one knee, a bazooka locked on the other. It charged, whined, and erupted with an explosion of green light.

The ghost shrieked. It took only an instant of resistance before the ghost tore cleanly from the girl possessed.

“Now if you don’t mind me—” Tucker, by the voice. Danny heard the whine of a Fenton Thermos heating up. “—I’d officially like to change my order from fries to soup.”

The beam burst forth, and the writhing, shrieking, yelping form of the exorcised ghost clawed and scratched in Danny’s direction before the thermos consumed her in full.

“Really? ‘Fries to soup’? Even Danny can do better than that.”

“Hey,” Danny answered.

“I was thinking on my feet, Sam. I didn’t hear any witty quips from you.”

The conversation fell away from Danny’s focus as the full human weight of the possessed girl dropped down on him. Gently, Danny gripped her by the shoulder, lifting her as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Your parents’ anti-possession gear is getting good. I don’t think I’ve seen an exorcism work that quickly.” Sam’s voice, now at his side. Danny glanced over, finding her kneeling beside him. “Is she hurt?”

Danny gave the girl a once-over. She was pale, cold, lips seeping blue. A mottled, blackish bruise spread across her temple, partially hidden beneath loose red bangs.

“I don’t… totally know. I didn’t land any hits on her, thankfully. But who knows what that ghost might have done. We should call an ambulance.”

“On it,” Tucker, from behind.

“Do you… do you think the bazooka might have hurt her?” Sam asked.

Danny shook his head. “Mom and Dad have blasted each other with that thing a hundred times. Dad got himself possessed by the box ghost for a trial run. It doesn’t hurt people. …Maybe she just needs a minute.”

“Lay her down, maybe?”

“Good idea.”

Danny eased forward, careful in his movements. Something about his grip slipped, sliding loose and rolling forward, and she fell unceremoniously from his arms, shoulder knocking ground as she lay there partially turned on her side.

“Danny!”

“Sorry! I didn’t—something slipped!”

“Well don’t leave her like—” Sam gripped a hand to the girl’s shoulder, weight behind her wrist to roll the girl fully onto her back. Sam’s hand froze, and then yanked away.

“What?” Danny asked.

“That didn’t feel right.” Sam only stared down, her hand hovering, twitching in increments. “Way too cold… and loose.”

“Loose?”

“Danny, look at her hands. What’s wrong with her hands?”

Danny looked. The skin stretched and wrapped the bones of her fingers as if rotated partway around. Her fingernails sat off-center, twisted around and bunched up like a glove. Sam’s hand came back into view, and she clamped it to the girl’s wrist.

“It’s like jelly. Danny it’s like jelly. Why is she this cold? Danny, I don’t think she’s—”

Something new caught Danny’s eye, a purple discoloration peeking out from the bottom ruffles of the girl’s shirt. His hands seemed to move on their own as he reached down, and pinched the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it back.

Black bruising consumed her torso, caving deep and bloating, pruning around the trails of heavy stitching that ran along the tracks of surgical cuts carving through her abdomen.

Danny yanked his hand away as if burned.

“Danny, she’s not breathing.”

The rest of Danny’s thoughts drowned in the swelling wail of the approaching ambulance siren.

…

Outside the Fenton Portal, green lighting doused the only part of Danny’s form not hidden in shadow, and danced with the fire of his glowing green eyes. Danny uncapped the thermos in his hand, and he trailed his thumb along the eject switch.

A new consuming green light belted forth, lasting only a moment until it vanished with a twin-braided ghost in its wake. The ghost blinked, smoothing over her hair and pulling the ends of her braids over her shoulders.

“Oh, it’s the Ghost Boy again. I thought you’d just throw me back in the Ghost Zone. Are you interested in a round 2?”

“No, not interested,” Danny answered, tone colder than ice.

“Yeesh, you’re quite sour. No more puns?”

“Why were you possessing that girl?”

“Hmm?”

“Why were you possessing her?”

The ghost blinked, green portal light mixing murkily with her purple eyes. “No particular reason. It was just a joyride.”

“A joyr—she was dead.”

Another blink. “Yeah I know. She was sitting in the morgue. She was in like a car crash or something and they already took all her organs. They didn’t need her. And I was gonna give her back, but you had to go and make it a whole thing.” The girl swooped forward, eyes wide and roving over Danny. “You seem mad. Wanna call a truce?” She stuck a hand forward. “I’m Melissa, by the way.”

Danny jolted, eyes flashing brighter. “No, you’re not. That girl was Melissa.”

“Oh for real?” Melissa let out a chuckle. “Crazy coincidence. I like don’t even know that many Melissas. Anyway truce?”

“No.” Danny ran his fingers through his hair. “You were possessing the body of a dead girl and you made me fight her! Don’t you see how that’s—that’s so—how fucked up—that you’d even—”

“Well I mean, I didn’t make you fight me. You made that happen. I was minding my business.”

“Doing what?”

“Shopping. Why else would I take a body for a joyride? I stole some cute clothes to wear. Stole some food to eat. Oh! That outfit I was wearing when we were fighting? Yeah I picked that out. She was in like a hospital gown when I found her. Super cute improvement right?”

An ectoblast sounded and connected with the wall behind Melissa, missing her a foot to the right. Danny’s hand glowed, and his eyes focused with a razor sharpness.

“Stop talking like that, okay? It’s pissing me off. I need you to tell me you know this was fucked up.”

Melissa put a finger to her chin. “I mean I guess stealing is kinda wrong. They were all like, big box corporate stores don’t worry.”

“The. Dead. Body.”

And Melissa fell silent a moment, violet eyes probing deep into Danny’s before widening. “Oh. Oh you’re like for-real mad about that. Like actually. I thought you were like, making an ironic joke.”

“Why the hell would I be joking about this??”

Melissa cocked her head to the side. “Well because you’re doing it too, duh. Like, duh.”

A huff of air cut against Danny’s teeth, an involuntary noise, incredulous, a guffaw he didn’t consciously make. The jelly sensation of decomposing flesh was back under his fingers. “I am not—would never—I’ve never even seen a dead body before this thing with you and I’d never in a million years even think for even a fucking second that I’d want to possess a dead body. What’s wrong with you?!”

Melissa bobbed a little in the air, ends of her braids trailing over the straps of her ephemeral sundress. “See this is why I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not. What are you talking about? You’re doing it right now.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “The black-haired boy whose corpse you’re possessing. Why are you allowed to do it?”

Danny froze. He laughed, heavy, with an uncomfortable force. “Myself, you mean? I’m not possessing myself. I am myself. I’m a half-ghost.”

Melissa met his laugh. “Oh what? No way like, that’s your own corpse? How’d you even get back to it in time? That’s crazy lucky like you must have died right near a portal or something.”

An involuntary shiver traced down Danny’s spine.

“…I’m not dead.” His eyes shifted around, and Danny dropped to the floor. He set a hand against the wall, throwing on the lights to the Fenton basement. Rings swept around his form, green iridescent eyes sweeping blue, white hair seeping black. “Look. Literally look at me. I’m not dead.”

And Melissa swooped closer. She set a finger to her bottom lip and hovered a foot in front of Danny, drinking him in. She swept to the side, like a swimmer in the water, sweeping around him in a full arc. She edged closer and pinched her fingers against the exposed skin on Danny’s arm. He flinched.

“Oh wow there’s like, not even any decay or anything. Your human brain even feels like it’s working it’s all like, electro-magnety. How long were you dead before you got back to your body?”

“I didn’t die.”

“Then what did happen?”

“I got shocked by the Fenton Portal, okay? It was just a lab accident and it gave me powers.”

“Oh. Oh.” Melissa’s eyes shot wide. “Oh you didn’t die near a portal… You died in a portal. You didn’t even have to get back to find your body at all. You must have appeared like practically on top of your own body. That’s crazy lucky. That’s so lucky. Your body was like, probably only dead a microsecond before you hopped back in. No wonder it’s so well-preserved.”

Danny swatted her away. “You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to me.” Melissa floated backwards. “What do you think is more likely? A bajillion ecto-volts somehow gave you superpowers that exactly mirror everything a regular dead ghost can do? …Or you died, and became a regular old ghost, and did what any regular old ghost can do, which is possess a freshly-dead dead body?”

“…I’m half-ghost,” Danny answered, human heart pounding in his chest. “I know what I am.”

Melissa bobbed back, feet pointed backwards until the soles of her feet skimmed the matrix of the portal. “I see you’ve made up your mind. That’s alright. But it was still pretty mean of you to accuse me like a big hypocrite like that.”

“I’ll destroy you if you ever try that again.”

“Oh I’ll try asking permission next time okay? Promise.” Melissa’s feet sank into the surface of the portal. “But, before I go, I’ve just got one more question to leave you with.”

“Go.”

“Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?”

“Go.”

“Maybe you’ll have an answer for me next time I see you. Byeee!”

A spark of white erupted from the portal, consuming, absorbing, and fizzling out as Melissa’s form vanished into the ether beyond.

…

“Hey! Yo! Danny, come check this out!”

Danny rounded the stairs, unsocked feet creaking the floorboards with each step. Danny yawned, and blinked, and rubbed at his bruised eyes with the sleeve of his pajama top.

“Still asleep? That’s fine! You don’t have to do anything. Just come over here and look at what your old pop’s been up to.”

Danny entered the living room, where Jack sat hunched on the couch surrounded by an arsenal of power tools, rags, oil, soldering equipment, and scrap metal. From beside him he hefted a bazooka into view.

“This is the Fentonzooka 3.2.17. Amped up and equipped with all the latest in ghost-busting and human-saving technology.”

Danny blinked. “3.2.17?”

“Yep. This baby’s got 17 bug patches, tweaks, and internal improvements since the 3.2.0. The 3.2.0 was the advent of the snack compartment in the side. Look!” Jack spun a dial, revealing a chamber half-filled with pistachios.

Danny only stared.

Jack hefted the bazooka onto his shoulder. “Even better, Mads and I finally got rid of the last little sting humans feel when it’s fired. It’s now completely 100% harmless to humans. It feels like the breeze from a standing fan when it hits ya.” Jack turned, and he aimed the barrel at Danny. “Wanna try it out?”

Danny stood, and Danny stared, and Danny said nothing.

What might happen when it hit him?

Would it hit like the gentle breeze of a fan? Wash over him like air conditioning? Tingle cool and pleasant against his human fingers, human face, human skin?

Would it do something else?

Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?

Jack eased the bazooka a bit off center, pulling his eyes away from the sight. He stared directly at Danny. “Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to try it out?”

Danny stood.

Danny stared.

Danny wondered if he’d have an answer for Melissa the next time he saw her.