#precious bunny is a precious bunny indeed

[empress-of-hugs]

New fridge just got delivered (!) (We're redoing the whole kitchen and it's lovely-- the very first time I get to really choose what my space looks like!) Anyway, I get nervous when there's strangers in my space, so I went to get my bunny to hold for comfort. Everyone who comes into my house must see bunny because of this.

Upside: Bunny!!!

Downside: there are none. It's bunny time all the time in this house

Here's a picture of the bunny in question, because I know you wanna see her.

[sakkiichi]

COVER ME IN SUNSHINE.

Ways in which your kid calls his dad. Will he get to hear a ‘papa’?

ft. Scaramouche/Wanderer, Albedo, Xiao, Childe, Kaeya, Neuvillette x gn! reader.

cw/genre: pure fluff. Reader is referred to as ‘mama’, you and the character have a child. They’re all girl dads.

a birthday present for my dearest @bunny-rambles 🩵 i’m wishing you the best day today and always, hun ! ilysm, thank you for always being by my side. I hope we can celebrate many many more birthdays together, mwah <3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ note: about this fic… i struggled quite a little with it, and i’m sorry it’s not my best piece… this was a totally new concept to write for me, but i still hope you can enjoy, bunbun, dear ♡

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

Wide indigo orbs meet his furrowed gaze.

Scaramouche is not amused.

Or at least that’s what he wants whoever sees him right now to believe. Namely, you.

Tiny hands cup the Wanderer’s cheeks, big eyes, so similar to his, staring up at him in wonder. The little girl in his arms squeezes his face, a pout forming on her father’s lips. Giggles erupt from her smiling lips, the corners of Scaramouche’s mouth unconsciously tilting upwards.

“You’re amused, huh?” Your husband asks, rocking the baby in his hold. She stares at him, her little arms flailing upward, giggling happily.

“Moochie!” She babbles, trying to stand on the wanderer’s knees, her hands reaching for his hat.

“Hey, hey, now!” Kunikuzushi pouts, securing his hat. “That is not a toy and I’m not Moochie…”

“Moochie!” His daughter repeats, poking his cheek.

He sighs.

“Not Moochie…” Scaramouche’s ears take on a rather rosy tone, especially when your giggles are not exactly inconspicuous, your attempt at keeping hidden just outside the living room, obviously half-assed.

“Pa-pa. Not Moochie.” He repeats, bopping his little one’s nose. “And here, play with this.” He offers, handing his baby a doll curiously identical to himself.

Your eyes soften from your spot when you observe the fond smile on your lover’s face. He might feign annoyance, but when it came to your baby, all the facade was scattered to the winds. Storm clouds and lightning seemed so far away when he was surrounded by the blue skies and birdsong that dawned with your daughter’s hand grabbing his finger.

“Pa..” The little one begins, lifting the doll, as if indicating that it indeed represents her father.

“Pa…” Your wanderer prompts, as he points to the cloth mini version of himself.

Then, the girl’s eyes focus somewhere beyond her dad, tiny hands wiggling and waving, the plush doll still in her grasp.

“Mama!” She exclaims, making to reach for you, trying to climb over the sofa’s backrest, where it not for your partner’s protective hold.

Finally stepping out from your hideout, you walk towards them.

Familiar warm arms wrap around the no longer broken puppet, as your precious baby rests between your two heartbeats. Yours, steady, undeniably human. His, bloomed anew, thanks to you; with a newfound tune, sweeter, gentler, thanks to his little one.

Scaramouche closes his eyes, lashes of now starlit midnights resting on his perfect cheekbones. His head leans on your shoulder, your lips feather-light on his dusky hair, as your hands gently lift his hat a bit.

Your girl grabs one of her father’s fingers once more, the handmade mini wanderer kept close to her chest.

Yes, storms were definitely over for days to come.

✧ ALBEDO

A tug on the leg of his pants and familiar unintelligible noises pull the alchemist out of his task.

Albedo’s features soften when he spots the cause of his distraction.

Putting the notebook he was currently scribbling on aside, he crouches down.

“And who do we have here?” The chalk prince asks, smoothing the golden locks on his baby’s small head.

“Mama?” She replies, her tiny hand pulling on her dad’s clothes.

The gesture is followed by one of Albedo’s gentle chuckles, eyes like northern stars on clear nights bright at the sight of his daughter.

“Mama’s not here now, little princess.” He explains, as he picks the baby up. “They will get home soon, though.” Your child stares at him as if unsatisfied with the answer, head slightly tilted to the side. “How about we have some fun in the meantime?”

Giggles that always reminded Albedo of sunshine days at dragonspine are the answer that follows.

Taking his little one’s two hands in his, the chief alchemist helps his daughter take a few trembling steps, the baby happily padding on the wooden floor.

“There we go, princess!” Your lover chuckles, sitting the girl securely on the beige couch. Teal eyes flecked in emerald follow your partner’s movements, as he rummages through your living room’s drawers.

A few seconds later, more incomprehensible joyful babbles follow, when he sits by your daughter’s side, his hands expertely setting the supplies he retrieved on the low table. She stares at him intently, her gaze drawn to the vibrant crayons cluttering the tabletop’s surface.

“What should we draw today, my princess?” Are Albedo’s words, as he hands his child a light blue pencil, its tip dulled so she can’t hurt herself.

“Snow!” She exclaims, her tiny feet kicking back and forth in excitement, eliciting chuckles from her dad.

“You want to paint snow, my little cecilia?” He asks, combing through her blonde strands. “Alright, how about we paint you, mama and papa building a snowman?”

“Yay!” Your baby reaches for the blank paper, wonder and excitement written all over her rounded features, her tongue sticking out the corner of her small mouth. She always loved to draw and paint, especially when it was with Albedo. And even if her pictures often ended up turning out as just criss-crossing lines or messy splotches, you and your husband always kept every single one of them, displayed as priceless masterpieces on the fridge’s door, the living room walls or your study.

After a few minutes of focused work, three figures start taking form over a background of messily drawn blue snowflakes.

“Look, dearie.” Albedo calls. “Who are these?”

His girl looks up at him, a huge smile on her face as she bites the pencil.

“Mama! Me! And Papa!” She answers proudly, pointing at each of the figures.

Albedo’s eyes widen, gilded sparks reflected in the cloudless skies of his irises at his daughter’s words.

Those last two syllables.

His own pencil falls out of his grasp, clattering to the carpeted floor. In this moment, nothing else exists, save for the jingling echo of his daughter’s angelic tone.

“Papa?” She asks, tugging on his sleeve.

Albedo picks the little girl up, rising her as she laughs, unaware.

“Can you say it again, little princess? ‘Papa’.”

“Papa! Papa!” Giggles leave her throat.

Softly, Albedo places a kiss on her kid’s forehead, hugging her as the both of them lay down on the sofa.

When you got home, silence greets you, broken only by even breaths. Smiling to yourself, you brush a kiss against your husband’s and your daughter’s hair, a new painting adorning the walls after you gently throw a blanket over the sleeping figures of your two treasures.

✧ XIAO

“Do you want to hold her, Xiao? She’s been looking at you for a while.” You chuckle, your gaze softened when it sets upon your yaksha.

Golden eyes, not unlike the child’s currently on your arms, shadow in fear and shame for a moment.

What if he hurts the baby? What if his karma taints her somehow? What if-

“Xiao.” Your hand finds his gloved one, centuries of bloodshed written in the concealed scars. “She’ll be okay.” You reassure, a gentle squeeze, as your fingers slot between his.

The adeptus glances in his daughter’s direction, her round amber eyes curiously observing him.

Your husband’s jaw sets, his lips drawn in a taut line. If someone were to look at him now, they may think he’s sulking, the furrow of his brow apparently an indication to steer clear.

You, however, know better.

“Here, I’m with you, love.” You softly utter, placing your daughter in her father’s arms.

The baby stares up at her dad in awe, her little hands fiddling with the necklace he always wears.

She’s so small… such a pure and precious being… will she be safe with him?

Just as these thoughts plague his mind, the girl curls up in his embrace, nuzzling against his toned torso.

“See? She adores you, Xiao…” You tell him, knuckles brushing against your baby’s soft full cheek. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?” She turns around, a smile drawing on her lips, as she buries herself further into Xiao, whose cheeks have gone as red as the carmine lining his eyes.

“H-hello, little qingxin…” Xiao greets her, awkwardly rubbing her back.

In response, his baby tilts her head slightly backwards, the molten suns in her stare illuminating her father’s rusted gold gaze.

“Papa!” She goes, a little clumsy, it sounding more like ‘dada’.

The vigilant yaksha’s eyes widen, his heart feeling like a million bright lanterns floating towards a starry sky.

“Xiao! She said ‘papa’! See? She loves you!” You excitedly chant, hugging your husband’s waist, as you pepper kisses all over his face. “You are her first word, dear, our baby adores her dad so much. I knew she would!” A smile tugs at your lips, lids fluttering closed as you rest your cheek on Xiao’s shoulder.

His hands hover around his daughter, his hold on her delicate, as if she was a newly bloomed flower whose petals could vanish if the wind blew too strongly.

“Papa…” The girl repeats, her chubby cheek squished against’s Xiao’s form. Her eyes are droopy, a little yawn escaping her as she settles more comfortably in her father’s embrace.

Your adeptus heaves out a sigh of relief, the warmth of a familiar fireplace swarming all around him, as if candid candle flames were running through his veins when the soft snores of his daughter reach his ears.

The conqueror of demons’ mask would be shed for tonight.

✧ CHILDE

Small hands are glued to the window’s glass panes, a pair of bright blue eyes staring awestruck at the image currently taking place in your garden.

Flashes of crystalline cyan flit across the air as Childe wields his double blades, merging them into a spear, his muscles taut at the effort.

The little girl’s tiny hands curl into fists, as she leans forward in anticipation, marine gaze following her father’s movements.

He reminds her of the illustrations she’s seen in the picture books Teucer has shown her before.

She must get closer.

Looking over her shoulder, your daughter makes sure you’re busy with something in the kitchen.

Her plan can be put into action now.

Crawling towards the door on all fours, she realizes she’s nowhere near tall enough to reach the handle.

Oh, but she takes after you, and will not be deterred by something like this.

Silently, the baby makes her way towards the dog you took in. He’s big and fluffy and very peaceful, often keeping company to the little girl. With a gentle pat to his side, she looks up at him with those big blue eyes and, despite his instinct to keep her safe, the puppy obliges to her demand.

Folding his paws, the animal lowers himself to the ground, allowing your daugher to climb. A vivid spark flashes through her ocean eyes, tiny hands securing on her companion’s fur.

And just as she was about to reach the door opening to the garden, a familiar voice that’s lulled her to sleep many a night stops her in her tracks.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, little lady.” You stand a couple feet away from her, hands on your hips, your concern masked with masterfully feigned anger.

Your baby stares up at you, that oceanic gaze puppy-like, much like her father did when you were mad at him.

“Mama…” She mumbles, her little hands signaling to where Childe is training outside, sounds you can’t understand leaving her pouty lips.

You sigh, kneeling to pick her up, rubbing your dog’s chin gently.

“So you want to see papa training, don’t you, little troublemaker?” You prompt, smiling as you tickle her belly. She giggles, wiggling her legs in your hold. “Alright, just this once, and because he’s almost finished with his routine.” You warn, softly pinching her cheek.

Once outside, you both stare at the harbinger, you, with heating cheeks; your daughter, in admiration and wonder.

Then:

“Papa!” She calls, energetically waving to her father, as you have to struggle so she doesn’t fall out of your grasp.

Suddenly, Ajax’s hydro blades vanish, a rare glow present in the eyes that are so like his daughter’s. A wide grin spreads across his sun-kissed features, arms opening as he runs towards you and his baby.

“Papa! Papa!” His daughter repeats, as your husband hugs the both of you.

No matter how cold Snezhnaya’s blizzards blew, Ajax would always have his personal patch of sunshine in you two.

✧ KAEYA

Calla lilies surround the scene, their russet-hued petals aglow in the blue shimmer of the statue of the seven standing amidst the lake.

Dusk approaches, the sky still dyed in shades of tangerine and cherry blossom, the sun, a glimmering halo right above the horizon.

Over frondous grass spotted in sun and shadow, a blanket lies, its baby blue pattern fading into the multiple colors of the snacks scattered above it: portions of cake you baked the afternoon prior; sandwitches carefully cut in triangle shapes; handpicked apples and sunsettias, cut and placed into plates by your lover.

But perhaps the most vivid color of them all was that of the couple sitting atop it.

A couple and their daughter.

“You really liked this pie, didn’t you, little lily?” Kaeya coos at his baby, her chubby cheeks littered with crumbs of the soft cake she’s been devouring all afternoon. Two pairs of ice blue eyes meet each other beneath the setting sun, the girl’s giggles eliciting a chuckle from her father’s lips as he carefully wipes her face. “Mama will be mad if you stain your dress, little princess.” The cavalry captain points out, in mock scolding.

His reprimand is met with a bashful smile and his kid cuddling into him, her tiny hands clutching his clothes.

“Kaeya, don’t tease her!” You swat at his arm playfully, soft laughter leaving the both of you as your husband smooths over your girl’s hair, placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Don’t pay any mind to papa, now.” You reassure her, tenderly brushing over her chubby hands. “He’s a little silly sometimes.”

The girl looks up at you, those iceberg toned eyes wide in wonder at the world that she still has to discover around her.

You ruffle her hair, as she turns around in Kaeya’s embrace, settling on top of his legs, staring up at him.

“Papa!” She announces, taking ahold of Kaeya’s long braid, playing with it. “Papa… prince!” She points out, as she grabs one of the dolls she brought: a boy wearing a crown.

With a knowing grin, you shift closer to your lover, leaning against his side.

“Yes, little sweetheart, you’re right, papa is a prince.” Kaeya’s hand locks with yours over his shoulder, fingers laced together, the warmth of his touch so paradoxical, given the freeze he commands.

“And that is why you’re our little princess.” The knight tells your baby, as he places a stray calla lily on her hair.

“Princess!” She happily babbles, rising her arms.

Instances like this… they truly stoked gentle flames around the captain’s heart, oftentimes concealed behind apparently crystalline walls of frost. As long as he had the two of you, at least during brief moments like this, there would be no need for practiced facades.

Across the distant horizon, even dusk seemed to delay, allowing a few more seconds of luminous skies for the family sitting below it, a flickering smile crossing the anemo archon’s face of stone.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

Slate skies expand above him, his opal eyes restless oceans in the tears they contain, painted lashes dripping in midnight droplets.

Rainbow roses seem to weep too, their petals downcast, the sunrise shades of their blossoms muted in the downpour.

Neuvillette stands alone, the garden of your shared home melancholy; the trees too bare, the grass ashen, the flowers wilting.

Save for the pitter-patter of rusted silver droplets, silence reigns the scene.

The hydro dragon’s mood had a tendency to be mirrored in the heavens over Fontaine, after all.

Sighing, the Chief Justice takes a sit by a bush of lumidouce bells. Fitting, for someone whose shoulders slump not unlike the petals of the periwinkle hued blooms.

“Neuvi, love.” A familiar voice calls him, gently. “What are you doing out there in this weather, dear?”

Long argent locks of hair shift, like seafoam by moonlight, when he turns around, water, from the rain, or his tears, or both, running down his cheeks.

“Someone has come to see you, my love.” You softly utter, beckoning your husband towards the porch, the impending cacophony of his racing mind and falling downpour partially silencing.

Neuvillette’s features warm up a bit the moment he realizes who you’re talking about.

A little girl placidly rests between your arms, eyes of crystalline dusk looking up at her father. Unlike his, hers are rounded, lacking the dark circles frequently etched under your lover’s.

“Look who’s here, little rainbow.” You coo at your daughter, who tries chasing after your wiggling fingers, right as you playfully poke her belly. “Papa is here, do you perhaps want to play with him?”

The baby looks at you, one of her tiny fists on her mouth, as her eyes crinkle up in crescents. Then, she turns towards her dad, arms reaching out.

“Papa! Papa!” She laughs, inclining her flexible small torso towards him.

Neuvillette’s gaze widens, placing his hands around his little girl, protectively cradling her in his embrace.

“Papa is here, sunshine.” Your lover assures her, as he leans down to kiss her nose.

In the distance, a familiar arch shoots across the heavens, the violet of goodbyes and separations shifting into rosy affection.

Golden replaces dull steel, flecks of it dotting the grass, remnants of rain clinging like emeralds to the verdant stems.

The sun is out. The hydro dragon cries no more.

[goldenhickeysandramen]

Jikook cozy and domestic in AYS Sapporo Episode 6

My fav moments:

Jungkook wanted this trip to happen…

Jimin and JK both squeezed their schedules to the max to make it happen. They got to come back to Tokyo and created new memories in Sapporo to cherish over the next two years.

So no one is surprised to see our precious bunny so so happy during the entire episode and "collecting memories before enlistment"… 😭😭😭😭

I love Jikook soft mood in this moment and THEIR POUTS 😭...

Indeed this really hits harder when you realize this was their last day in Sapporo and possibly one of the final recordings for the show ❤️‍🩹

2. This cozy (gay) moment of them...😍🤣

3. NO WORDS to this nostalgic and soft moment on the train

4. Sharing is caring

5. This conversation... I think it says more than one could think

6. Honestly... this habit of them of knowing and sharing so many things starts smelling

7. Jikook playful in the snow has to be on the list

Waiting for the next episode... cause...

[werecreature-addicted]

Okay so I’ve had some ideas to share but I forgot them all :( BUT I do have one!!

A wolf x rabbit ship, super basic I know, but the wolf is absolutely obsessed with this one particular rabbit. He should eat it, he wants so badly to, but for some reason he just can’t bring himself to do it.

He won’t let any other wolf hurt his precious bunny, protecting him with soft (though engulfing, due to size difference) cuddles and nuzzles on the neck and just a bit (read: a lot~~) of nibbling, though done out of love!!

The rabbit is a quiet little thing, though not really shy. In fact, he is very extroverted, to the point it seems he lacks proper self-preservation instincts, but what does that matter when you have a feral wolf at your side!

It may get spicy, it may not, that’s not the important thing. The important thing is that this wolf, this predator, is completely infatuated with a member of its main prey species.

And yes, the wolf does still hunt, but other animals. He would never devour his cute sweet little bun, now would he? Does the bunny even stop to think about this, or does the wolf get cleaned up before going back to their den, so the bunny doesn’t suspect a thing??

And they are indeed both guys, just a little self-indulgent detail 💕💕💕

Big bad wolf keeping his sweet bunny far away from the rest of his pack. the others wouldn't understand his love, his obsession with this rabbit. He keeps you marked, scented, covered in his mark, and as clearly labeled as his as you can be, but he worries it's not enough. He worries that the other wolves would ignore his claim for an easy meal.

It gives him a heart attack how carefree and innocent you are, so willing to literally throw yourself to the wolves. He doesn't mind it if you get cozy and make friends with other prey animals, he might even let them live if they make you happy, but it's absolutely unacceptable for you to try and see another wolf. both for your own safety and for his jealousy.

Of course, he comes home covered in blood. if you ever ask he just tells you not to worry about it, he knows you're innocent but... you're not stupid right? you know he's a wolf and what he eats... right? better not burst your bubble if you're ignorant and if you do know, no need to start a fight or anything like that. no need to tell you he kills and eats cute rabbits just like you all the time.

[dark-and-kawaii]

Ok, so I was mostly joking about the whole 'bunny-boy Zevlor doodle' thing but... Hmmm...

*awkwardly clears throat while fanning myself*

👀 He looks very nice. Very nice indeed.

Pardon, I think I need to process what you have awoken in me.

‎‧₊˚✧ [ Don’t Be Shy ] ✧˚₊‧

Summary: You ask Zevlor to try on the cute latex bunny outfit ♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ — Notes: Don’t mind me, just going to casually drop a little Drabble about him trying on the bunny outfit in front of you ♡ ♡!!! Thank you so much for the love on the drawing!!! It’s honestly one of my favorites, and I’m grateful you recommended it!!! He’s so freaking precious in it in my opinion hahaha pink latex suits him well (>ᴗ•)!!!

Doodle

You sat on the bed while holding a fur pillow, a playful smile dancing on your lips as you watched Zevlor fumble with the bunny outfit you had teasingly suggested he try on.

The outfit was made of gorgeous pink latex, the cuffs embroidered with a silver lining, and Zevlor, well… you giggle at how the commander- a dignified soldier, was now a blushing mess.

His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, contrasting sharply with his usual composed demeanor… And his tail, “Awhh Zevy~” it instinctively curled around his waist, the sharp end of it attempting to shield the rather obvious bulge that the snug outfit accentuated. Meanwhile, Zevlor’s hand covered half his face, as if trying to hide from the world- or perhaps from your amused gaze.

“Dear, must I really?” He mumbled from behind his fingers.

You chuckled softly, hopping off the bed so that you could saunter over to the love of your life. And with a playful grin, you reach out and gently take his tail in your hand to unwrap it from his muscular waist. “Don’t be shy now,” you purr before giving his tail a light, teasing lick, your eyes never leaving his, “let me see what you’re hiding~”

Zevlor's breath caught in his throat, his blush deepening as he met your gaze... Your playful confidence was infectious, and despite his initial embarrassment and discomfort, he found himself relaxing under your touch- the warmth of your gaze melting away his embarrassment, if only just a little.

[zoi-no-miko]

The most valid NSFW <3

Not to be NSFW but I'd like to hold his hand and cuddle him to sleep 👀

[cyber1987]

FINALLY ITS HERE!! My New attempt at fan fiction :D My new series named

"Birds can still learn from the bats"

Enjoy this prologue and please bear in mind that i haven't written in a while and English isn't my first language

Cw: none in this chapter

In ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57946378/chapters/147510817

Thank you @skele-bunny for your help in the making of this!

Prologue: Calm of a normal life

Long ago up in heaven there was an angel whose love shined brighter than the stars above. Her kindness for the poor lost souls was known from far and wide even the little demons in hell longed for an ounce of pure love. And so she shared it with them.

Yet she still had time to love something else over the many others she took under her wings, a small angel whom she cared for deeply, her own son. Soon enough the child would take more of her, it was only natural! But you see her love wasn't something one could forget easily, Its absence was noticeable.

And many indeed noticed. Envy is a poisonous thing truly and the ghoulish creatures embraced its sinful teachings, after all why should one angel receive so much?

They were quick to spread that seed of envy in heaven, dark whispers to drive others to do their bidding until one fateful night someone fell to the temptation, he stole what was so dear to her, he took her child and subsequently fell from the heavens dragging the poor little one down with him.

Her sorrow was felt from the brightest corner of heaven to the darkest pits in hell. Her anguish was the only thing that made the demons run with their tails between their legs.

Yet it was too late...to this day her little one is nowhere to be found, her own broken heart filled up with unbridled rage that cannot be quelled. What the demons and that fallen angel took was far too precious one can only wonder what she'll do when her heart can't take the pain anymore.

Hell will tremble before her if it means her son gets to come home.

♢-🔥-♢

Dewdrop was a ghoul of many talents, charismatic and a little shit by profession, but he by satan isn't a patient ghoul. Everyone knows this, his flame can spark to life in an instant and it’ll be everyone's problem and yet that seems like a reasonable risk to the two terrors that are playing with his tail and hair.

Both Phantom and Aurora still acted like kits and lord knows they have the energy of one, but he's still tolerating the claws digging into his tail of the playful bites to his hair “You two are going to give me grays before i turn 40.” the ghoul grumbled while pushing Aurora away from him.

“Aw but we love playing with you!” Phantom chirped from behind him before rubbing his cheek against Dewdrop’s back, a loud purr rumbled from the younger ghoul “yes but i like my tail without any bite marks and my hair to still be intact before noon”

Dew huffed, smoke coming out from his nostrils. “Aw don't be like that Dewy, we promise we won't be rough on ya.” Aurora chirped while laying across the older’s lap, her puffy cat-like tail swishing around in contentment . “Yeah yeah you always say that you little devil” Dew replied before shoving both ghouls off him making Aurora screech and Phantom whine at the sudden lack of warmth.

“I'm done being your personal jungle gym for the day can't you go bother Aether or something?” A small whine in protest “Come on shoo i have better shit to do.” Dew heard Aurora huff before leaving the den, probably off to bother Mountain or another poor soul but the baby bat remained, looking at him rather intensely.

“What is it? Do I look funny?” Dewdrop looked at the other taking a good look at the ghoul for a bit, Phantom shared the typical ashy gray skin of any ghoul but his was spotted by pale lilac splotches all over his body, some even went up to his hairline making his fluffy dark hair to have streaks of white all over it.

But most importantly his wings, they resembled those of a bat, black inside with white specks that resembled stars. The only odd thing was the small patch of feathers at the base of them. Phantom said it was his air ghoul genes and Dew wasn't really one to judge elemental fuckery.

His eyes though were definitely something, one was purple and it shimmered like the starry night sky and the other was a pale silver and it shined like pale moonlight. “I think you’re lonely.” The young ghoul replied “You feel lonely.”

Dew scoffed while rolling his eyes “I told you to not use your powers on others, you're still getting the hang of them.” Phantom looked offended, his wings flapping and his tail lashing unhappily “I'm getting the hang of ‘em! I swear, Aether said I'm making good progress!”

Dew still wasn't convinced “Accidents involving quintessence magic are more common than we would like, i'm just warning you, if it goes wrong it will backfire on you.”

Dew could feel his tail lashing, he was worried Phantom was still new on topside, a magical injury can be lethal on new summons, their bodies still recovering and getting used to topside “Just be careful okay?” Dew sighed walking away from the other ghoul “Go off and don't bother me” and with that he left, his mind settled into one ghoul.

The walk there was silent, no siblings out as many huddled off into their rooms to avoid the colder temperatures in the halls, winter can be such a blessing at times. His step perked up when he saw the familiar door of the infirmary’s office, his tail wagging a little.

He didn't even have to knock before it opened, letting the familiar scent of sage flood out towards him “Hey Aether..” The fire ghoul purred while the larger quint smiled at the sight of him “Hey firefly, what brings you out here today?” Aether moved to him inside.

“I'm just looking for some peace, the two kits got their paws on me. Fucking mites they are” He flopped onto the couch, his body instantly relaxing against the cushions. “I had to shove them off me Aeth, they need something better to release that energy” The fire ghoul groaned while his mate walked around the office doing Satan knows what.

“Have you thought of maybe actually playing and roughhousing with them, love?” He grunted while

Looking at Aether whom is checking some files “Expecting them to be quiet as a water ghoul is kinda foolish of you Dewdrop”

“How dare you, why does it have to be me anyway.” His tail thumped against the armrest “Why can't Swiss or Cirrus deal with them when they're feeling extra kit-ish” Aether only chuckled while shaking his head clearly amused “Because they like you firefly. You were there when they were torn out of the pit alongside the whole pack, and you were the first ghoul whom they smelled.”

Aether left the files in his desk before sitting next to Dew, letting the other immediately snuggle against him “They're still young and adapting, let them have some sense of security with you. I'm sure they'll open up to the others in no time” He paused looking down at the other ghoul with tender eyes “And leave you in peace.”

Dew wasn't expecting the sudden disappointment at the idea but he ignored it “I hope so. For now though you are stuck with me.” He purred while snuggling against Aether who chuckled at the others advances, Dew wondered if this is how the new summons felt when bothering him.

“I told Phantom he should be more careful with his magic.” Aether hummed signaling him to continue “He wasn't happy. He said that you told him he was making good progress, I want to know your opinion.” Dew looked up to his mate who looked deep in thought “He is alongside Aurora but they still have much to learn.” His tail thumped against the cushion.

“Why did you tell him that?” Dew sighed looking up to the ceiling “He used them on me. He said I'm 'lonely’ and I mean I guess I wanted to come hangout with you.”The fire ghoul huffed “Still I told him to knock it off, it's still dangerous especially to the caster or the recipient, if magic backfires on him or someone else…i don't want to imagine how bad it could be.”

Aether gave him a small nod in agreement “Im sure if that ever happens we will be there to help him, but even so you should give the kid some credit, him and Aurora are progressing well and im sure they will be great magic users, just give it time”

Dew only frowned, looking unsure “I hope you are right Aeth.”

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ikemen Prince (JP)

You know what happens when you mess with my stuff, right? (Gilbert von Obsidian) Premium

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

Where did this case come into picture? The answer is, "All of it."

Gilbert: "Hey, want to help me do something bad?"

Silvio: "Don't talk in your sleep, idiot."

I visited Silvio's guest room and was met with a cold shoulder.

I sat down beside him without hesitation as he stirred his rose wine without paying attention to me.

Gilbert: "You're a businessman, so you should at least hear me out."

Silvio: "I only do that when dealing with decent guys."

Gilbert: "You're also a navigator, so you like to take high risks, yes?"

(There's no way he'd miss out on a money-making opportunity like this.)

I put the small box I had prepared beforehand on the table, and Silvio, with a wary look on his face, put down his glass and opened the box with one hand.

Silvio: "You, this..."

Gilbert: "This rare ore is produced in small quantities, and there is probably no better pure ore in the world than this."

Silvio: "Idiot! Don't take this precious thing out of your pocket so easily."

Gilbert: "It's just a rock, but to those who know its value, it's a tremendous treasure."

Gilbert: "SO...?"

Silvio: "Fine. What's it about?"

(The look in his eyes changed.)

Chuckling inwardly, I leaned back deeply against the sofa.

Gilbert: "You know that dog that's always hanging around Miss bunny?"

Silvio: "Yeah, that damn dog?"

Gilbert: "Yes. I just need you to separate him from his owner tomorrow."

Silvio: "That's it?"

Gilbert: "Yeah, that's it."

Miss bunny will attend her friend's tea party tomorrow.

(She's so excited about it. She doesn't realize she's being taken advantage of.)

The people who are planning to approach Miss bunny are those who are aware I'm close with her.

As for her lady friend, I've already done my research on her. If this is a black-and-white situation, she's definitely in the black.

Also, it looks like the father, rather than the daughter, has made several attempts to contact Obsidian. And this is probably part of that.

(They're thinking like a simpleton, taking Miss bunny as a hostage in a tea party just to negotiate with me.)

(Well, I'm about to see something interesting, so I won't miss it.)

Silvio: "You're asking me to assassinate about 100 VIPs here."

Gilbert: "Oh no, assassination is Obsidian's specialty. We don't outsource assassinations."

Silvio: "I don't think you should be so proud of yourself."

Silvio: "How much money are you paying me to harass that woman?"

Gilbert: "I'm willing to pay as much as I can for the little rabbit."

Silvio: "What do you want with that woman anyway?"

Silvio seemed to have a strange hunch, perhaps because the price was indeed too much.

Silvio: "Everything you do is harass her. Do you have something against her?"

Gilbert: "It's terrible to call my expression of affection harassment."

Silvio: "Answer me seriously."

Gilbert: "I don't have any grudges. If there were, the little rabbit would already be dead."

Silvio: "Then what do you really want?"

("What," you ask?)

Of course, I have a clear purpose, but I'm not going to reveal it foolishly and honestly.

Gilbert: "Do you know what my nickname is?"

Silvio: "Fucking eye patch, the world's nastiest calamity, the ever-victorious marshal, and the overrun."

Gilbert: "Yes, it's overrun."

(I'll pretend I didn't hear about the fucking eye patch.)

Gilbert: "I've trampled and ruled so much that people started calling me the Overrun Beast."

Gilbert: "Even in Rhodolite, what I do is the same."

Silvio: "Ha! Even I feel sorry for that woman."

Gilbert: "Fufu, me too."

Silvio: "Don't say it yourself."

I smiled back at Silvio, who looked a little reluctant and got up from the couch.

(Now I'm ready to go.)

(After tomorrow, Miss bunny won't be able to trust anyone anymore.)

(She's going to be betrayed and sold out by her dearest friend.)

Gilbert: "I'm looking forward to it."

(...............)

(How did this happen?)

------------Flashback-----------

The plan must have worked.

A short time after Miss Bunny had left for the library, I couldn't help but laugh when her lady friend called me over, looking guilty and paler than the last time I saw her.

(If you’re going to feel guilty, you shouldn’t have done it in the first place.)

I believed her obvious lie that “Emma wants to see me” and went to the warehouse.

What was waiting for me inside were the Count, Miss bunny, and a few mercenaries.

When I noticed the house looked more like a hideout for ruffians than a nobleman’s mansion, I laughed again.

Gilbert: “Geez. If you’re going to negotiate with me, you need to have at least three times these mercenaries on hand.”

The Count and even the mercenaries were put off by the slightest hint of murderous intent.

Rather than hiring veteran mercenaries, it looked like he just hired some thugs in the city.

(They could stay, but it doesn’t make me feel good. I guess it wouldn’t matter as long as only the bare minimum of actors is present.)

Except for the Count and her daughter, I cut down all the peace-loving people with the sword I picked up.

Needless to say, I was disgusted that they couldn’t even use a hostage properly, even though they had a defenseless little rabbit.

Gilbert: “For now, I’ll just listen to what you have to say before Miss Bunny wakes up. So, go ahead.”

Eventually, Miss bunny woke up, and when she learned that her friend had betrayed her, her face contorted in despair.

Her friend affected by my murderous intent also chose to abandon Emma without saving her.

(Everything should’ve been fine.)

---------Flashback Ends---------

Emma: “Lady Louise?”

With our lips almost touching, the door to the guest room swung open just in time to reveal her lady friend with a sword in her hand.

She gripped it shakily, probably thinking Miss bunny, sitting on the villain’s lap (me), was under attack.

Louise: "Please let go of Lady Emma!"

Gilbert: "That's a funny thing to say. You betrayed her, remember?"

Gilbert: "It's all your fault that we're in this situation."

Acting like a good person now won't make the fact that you sold out your friend.

I hate these people so much I want to kill them.

(It's not unusual, though, because aristocrats are all "self-absorbed" people like this.)

Louise: "I know I'm just a lowly person who approached Lady Emma on my father's orders."

Louise: "But she still considered me her friend."

Louise: "She said that I'm her friend."

(.............)

------------Flashback-----------

???: "Listen, Gil. I'm on your side no matter what."

???: "I promise. I won't leave you alone. Okay?"

---------Flashback Ends---------

(Disgusting.)

Emma: "Lady Louise."

Louise: "I'm sorry for being selfish. But I don't want to hurt you anymore!"

Louise: "It was not you who disrespected Prince Gilbert. It was me!"

Louise: "So please punish me."

Gilbert: "Hmm? Then back to my original plan."

Emma: "No! Please don't touch Lady Louise!"

Louise: "Lady Emma! I'm fine, don't cover for me!"

Emma: "I'll be fine. Just run away!"

Louise: "I won't run away, I promise!"

Emma: "Lady Louise!"

Gilbert: "..............."

(Ah, the farce has begun.)

(What am I going to do now?)

I was ready to comfort Miss Bunny, who had been betrayed by her friend. However, if this happened, everything would be ruined.

(This lady is definitely an aristocrat. She saved herself and sold out her friend.)

(And yet I showed her blood in front of her eyes and soaked her to death.)

If the beauty of Emma’s heart moved her, then this “Belle” is more troublesome than I thought.

(I overrun my enemies with malice, but Miss Bunny is the exact opposite.)

(If instead of dyeing white into black, she dyes black into white, then she's not a good match for me.)

(She might be my natural enemy.)

Both Miss Bunny and the lady have regained their normal complexion.

Even if they may suffer a terrible fate, they probably think it would be "better" for them.

(I'm a bit frustrated.)

I sighed and admitted defeat as the desire to kill was gone, and the "anger" receded like the tide.

Gilbert: "Let's go home, Miss Bunny. I hope you had a good time at the tea party."

Emma: "Okay."

Miss Bunny's blatantly relieved look stuck in my mind.

Gilbert: "We're here, Miss Bunny."

Emma: "Mnn..."

(She's not getting up at all.)

She fell asleep in the carriage, perhaps due to tension, and showed no sign of waking up even after I carried her to her room.

She didn't open her eyes and only grunted when I put her on the bed.

(Speaking of which...)

------------Flashback-----------

Gilbert: "It doesn't matter if it's in front of a prince or a servant. If I ask for it, you'll kiss me."

Gilbert: "I’d say that's a good enough balance."

Emma: "............."

Gilbert: "What do you say?"

---------Flashback Ends---------

(I didn't get a kiss because we got interrupted.)

(If that promise had been kept, all sorts of interesting things would've happened.)

I pressed my finger to her lips.

(But I'm a big bad guy.)

I put my hand on the side of the defenseless little rabbit and put my face close to hers.

(I'm not going to kiss you now, though, because it won't mean anything.)

I brought our ears closer together, not our lips.

Emma: *grumbling*

Gilbert: "Ah, I knew it."

(I thought she was saying something earlier, but一)

She looked like she was having nightmares, judging from her whispering and groaning.

(No matter how much she thinks she's okay, dreams do not lie.)

There was no way that today's events wouldn't have left a scar on Miss Bunny's heart.

Even if their friendship was restored in the end, the fact that her friend betrayed her will never go away.

Gilbert: "But that still won't stop you from believing in people, will it?"

(You're an idiot, you know that?)

Gilbert: "You're kind, so I'm sure people will continue to hurt you."

Gilbert: "I wonder if you would make the same choices if you were betrayed and hurt repeatedly."

(It's easy to dye white to black, but difficult to dye black to white)

(I wonder how many more times you can endure it.)

(................)

For some reason, I'm irritated.

I'm frustrated.

Emma: "Mnn...huh?"

Emma: "................"

Emma: "!?"

Gilbert: "Ah..."

When the little rabbit woke up, she was startled by the proximity of our faces.

After blinking a few times, she blushed and pulled up the sheets to hide.

Gilbert: "Fufu, what did you imagine?"

Emma: "No! Nothing!"

(This is the kind of reaction that makes me want to tease her.)

(Poor thing. I wonder if there's anyone who can protect her from me.)

I lay down next to Miss Bunny and stared at her, her face appearing to be scared.

Emma: "You didn't do anything, did you?"

Gilbert: "Who knows?"

Emma: "What did you do?"

Gilbert: "Fufu..."

(I got it wrong.)

I pursed my lips and smiled as I always do.

(Sorry, I'm in a bad mood right now.)

She repainted black as white and believed in her friend even though she betrayed her. But the truth was she was so wounded and having nightmares but refused to show even the slightest sign of it.

(So...)

Gilbert: "Shall I remind you?"

❣ Epilogue

[empress-of-hugs]

Your bunny Precious looks just like my bunny Goblin! Is he a Belgian Hare??

She's a black otter rex, actually, as far as we've been able to determine. Just because she looks exactly like every other black otter rex I've ever seen a picture of. She was a rescue though, so there's no way to know for absolute sure.

The only thing I can tell you with certainty is that she absolutely LOVES to eat, and she gives us loads of kisses. LOOK at her, she's so cute<3

(No, she didn't eat those wires, and they're not live either. This was taken right before we ripped that carpet out)

Also, thank you for being the very first person to send me an ask!

[mutated-green-things]

Dust Bunnies #1: A pleasure to meet you, O Terrapin Mine

Words: 2,481

Pairing: Leosagi

Rating: E

Warnings: No actual content warnings, but this whole ficlet is a Destiny 2 AU and... D2 lore is so goddamn complicated that I am not going to explain it here. Just. Cliff notes: The turtles are essentially zombie space super heroes resurrected by a silent mechanical god known as the Traveller and Usagi is a robot that used to be a human but was stuffed into said robot frame by a madman who wanted to become immortal through technology.

--

Ada-1 calls him over comms. Something about a newly forged sword he would want a look at. Inspired by a blade carried by Uldren Sov. He doesn’t know how much he likes the idea of using something related to Cayde’s killer, but Ada insists, saying she knows he appreciates the older ways of combat. She also adds something about a new spin on the old ways, and Leonardo honestly has no clue what to make of that. 

All of that doubt leads to a faux pas of sorts. There’s a new face in the armory, an exo like Ada, but unfamiliar, as Leonardo felt the mystery sword would be. So he hesitates. Freezes really, long enough that Ada actually chuckles.

“This is Usa-5, Guardian. He won’t bite.” 

Leo coughs, continues forward, and holds out one of his bulky, three fingered hands. Usa-5 stares at it curiously for a moment, then bows. Leo blinks, then follows suit, smiling a little under his helmet at such a formal, antiquated greeting.

When he rises he can’t help the one word that slips out, raised at the end like a question. “Usa?” 

The new exo doesn’t speak, instead Ada-1 steps in to break the beat of silence.  “Yes,” she says, amusement still laced into her voice, “Usa is intentional. 

Leo’s eyes are still fixed on… him? Usa-5 is clearly styled to be more masculine, his metal body has sharper angles than Ada’s, even if there is still some curves along his— 

Leo’s eyes fly back up, thankful that his helmet is there to cover the sudden heat that flares up into his cheeks.  That face. So very distinct in its shaping. It’s why he’d asked about ‘Usa’ in the first place. The eyes are nothing remarkable. Like most other exo’s, they glow bright and occasionally shutter closed like camera lenses, but… but the metal below them doesn’t shape to form lips, or even a recess and volume visualizer like Ada-1’s. Usa-5’s alloys instead bend out to a tip of what Leo can only describe as a snout. That isn’t all though, really it’s not even the most notable feature. No, even more obvious is the tall triangular antennae that flick and sway as Usa-5 stares him down. Leonardo finds himself wondering if he’s ever seen a more charming exo. 

He doesn’t ask that. Instead he turns back toward Ada, and tries to word his actual question as carefully as he can. “Not to offend, but is he here because of the new sword or…?” 

Neither of them bristle. Ada responds with a nod. “Yes.” Then she tilts her head a little and concedes, “…and no. Usa-5 did indeed craft the blade I called you here for, but he is also here as part of a… training program?” 

“An apprentice of yours then?” Leo says it with a playful note to his voice, and gets the sarcastic bite he expects back from Ada. 

She rolls her eyes. “Something to that effect I suppose. You see, as much I would love to spend all my precious time attending to you guardians, I simply can’t, especially with the hours you all keep. Still, I and the rest of the armory felt that the forge should continue to be available at all hours if possible. The solution is simple enough. I’ve begun to train others to monitor this post, with Usa-5 being the first of a hand picked few.” 

Leo nods, smiles, and turns back to the new face. “So I’ll be seeing more of you then?” 

There’s enough of a pause that Leonardo almost doesn’t expect a response, but no, Usa-5 is indeed capable of speech. “Yes, guardian.” He says with a curt nod. 

—

Leonardo enters the armory backward: smile on his face, helmet in his hand, ghost at his side, and still chuckling at something Michelangelo said before speeding off to find Donnie. 

He turns, and just like last time, freezes. This time, Usa-5 does too. His eyes snap from place to place along Leonardo’s body in a way that by now is completely familiar. When him and his brothers had first been resurrected by the Traveler’s light, there had been questions, wonder, disgust, outrage, curiosity, but between the existence of Exo’s and Awoken, and the undeniable fact that all of them had been chosen, many had gotten used to the presence of four mutated turtles in their ranks. The vanguard’s approval and recognition helped too of course. Not many dared to question Ikora or Zavala individually, and when they agreed on something, well there wasn’t much to do but go along with it. 

Still, new lights and rare visitors to the last city were caught off guard at times. Especially when they took any of their armor off. Usa is a bit more tactful than the new lights though, and cuts his stare with another traditional bow. “Guardian.” 

Leonardo mimics the movement and takes a moment to contend with the deja vu. When he rises, Okami has already drifted forward, shell twisting to and fro as he inspects what he missed last time. There’s a pause where the only sound is the clicking and whirring of his ghost as he analyzes, then Okami turns, and his mechanical voice is as smug as Leonardo’s ever heard. “You’re right Leo, he is definitely… interesting.” 

The teasing makes Leo’s face burn bright and this time there’s no helmet to cover it up. Usa-5 doesn’t seem to pick up on the salacious undertones though, and simply looks at Leo quizzically. “I appreciate being of interest, but I can’t possibly imagine what was so fascinating. I barely spoke last time we met.” Then the metal plates of Usa-5’s snout shift in an unusual way. It takes Leo longer than he wants to admit to realize the change is a gentle smile.  

“Y-Your sword.” He says because that’s the first thing that comes to mind. He means the weapon of course, but can already hear Okami turning that into a double entendre later. He squashes that thought down. “It’s been very useful.” 

Another shift of metal. The smile is wider now, more enthused than gentle. “Oh good. And it continues to interact with the void light you imbued it with as intended?” 

“Yes. Just as you described and demonstrated.” 

“Excellent! And what do you think of the projectile overall?”

Leonardo reaches behind him and pulls the sword from its sheath with the sound of metal against leather. It hums in his hands as he holds it out horizontally, pulsing with vibrant purple void light. He recalls how easily the sharp blade broke through hordes of Hive, Eliskni, Cabal but… any sword could do that. 

No, what Usa will want to hear are stories like the time he and Donnie were pinned down by a Vex Hydra, tense and scared as they watched Raphael’s ghost slowly repair his broken body in the open. He’ll want to know how the sword’s projectiles buffeted back the hulking mechanical frame long enough for Spike to finish fixing their brother, long enough for them to regroup and win the day. 

Leonardo opens his mouth to relay all that, but the recounting sticks in his throat like taffy. There’s another aspect that he isn’t sure he should voice. How he always feels safest with a sword in his hand, even when he knows that the more standard firearms of the Tower and Black Armory are more practical, are safer. Donnie had told him it was likely a memory, something he only half remembered from their past, mortal lives. Regardless of the reason, a ranged blade, a “caster frame” as Ada-1 had called it, allowed him to not have to compromise. Allowed him to always feel secure under fire. 

“It’s.” He swallows. “I never would have thought of it, but that part has been invaluable. Really, words can’t express my gratitude.” 

Usa-5’s shutter eyes go wide, then click closed and open several times in rapid succession. “You mean it?” 

Leonardo nods once, curt and sharp, and Usa-5’s smile blossoms into a bright, beaming thing that Leo can’t help but match. 

—

"Hunter."

"I've graduated beyond Guardian now?"

"I am learning. Your roles. Your... Vanguard, and the titles associated with it. The Black Armory was never concerned with such things. Until recently that is."

Leonardo smirks. "I see. I appreciate the interest. Ada-1 still calls me Guardian. Just... don't make it obvious you're developing a soft spot. Secret's safe with me."

Usa-5's mechanical 'ears' flick downward, hinting at embarrassment or at the very least the fact that he's caught off guard. Just like a rabbit, Leonardo thinks.

—

Leonardo holds the little tin package gingerly, rubbing his fingers over the cool metal. He’s already delivered Ikora’s and Zavala’s cookies and he’s of course picked out more targeted gifts for his brothers, but he’s questioned and reconsidered this Dawning present over and over. 

Baked goods are standard, friendly, but not considered and personal like what he gave his family. He’s had deeper conversations with Usa-5 now. Not anything terribly profound but more than casual greetings and small talk. That’s how he’s learned of Usa-5’s love for vanilla shortbread. That’s how he learned that Usa-5 hadn’t celebrated the dawning in a long, long while. 

“If you don’t make a move soon I’m going to charge in and tell him how much of a chicken you are.” Leonardo startles at Okami’s words, then glares at the little laughing menace. He’s never known another ghost that takes so much delight in teasing its guardian. Even Klunk, fun loving though he is, usually teases others with Michelangelo. 

“I’m—“ he goes to scold his ghost, but then pauses, sighs, and looks down at his gift again. “What if it’s too much?” 

“Oh please! They’re cookies! I bet you fifty thousand glimmer he got you some too.” 

Leonardo rolls his eyes. As ghost and guardian, their resources are intertwined, so any glimmer of his also belongs to Okami. Once Drifter had taught them what gambling was though, there was always some sort of bet from his ghost. Even if it didn’t really count as such. Especially when it didn’t count. 

“I don’t—“ 

Okami starts to drift backward toward the Black Armory’s entrance. “I’m gonna do it!” 

Leonardo lurches forward, grabbing for his ghost’s traitorous form, only for Okami to dart away once, twice, thrice. Leo almost has him, the little demon, just—

“Hunter? Are you alright?” 

Leo turns slowly, and sees Usa-5’s bright eyes staring into him, all curiosity and concern. Okami speaks before he can, calling out cheerfully. “A joyous Dawning to you, Usa-5.” 

Leo wants to cringe into himself, into dust, into a puddle on the floor, even as Usa-5 five calls back cheerfully, “Yes! A happy Dawning to you as well, Ghost. And you too, Hunter.” 

It’s too much. Usa won’t even use his name. Even something as surface level as baked goods is too obviously sentimental to be appropriate. Especially when they’re homemade, especially when Leo remembered his favorite from an offhand comment said weeks ago. Maybe he could just—

“I— I got you something. Well. More… made you something.” It takes Leonardo a moment to realize those words are not his own, but Usa-5’s. “It’s nothing extravagant or unusual, but I did not wish to go overboard, and Ada said this would be… appropriate.” 

Leo’s gaze drifts down from the bright eyes, the metal snout. Usa-5 is holding out a sword in both hands. A finely crafted, honed thing with a long, thin metal blade that has frost creeping along its back edge. Leo immediately feels the pulsing weight of darkness energy, of stasis, of control. 

“How—“

“The Drifter infused it for me. He was very helpful once I asked, though he kept pestering me with strange questions.” 

“Oh I bet he did…” Okami says it with an edge that implies a lot of… something. Leo guesses there might be another entendre in there somewhere, but before he can really start puzzling it out, Okami continues, more cheerfully, “That’s great! Fantastic really, since Leonardo got you something too.” 

Leo freezes as those words float out into the air. He’s ashamed to admit that he does consider ending Okami right then and there for the briefest of moments, then even more embarrassing, he contemplates running for many, many more moments. 

“Oh! That’s very kind of you. I—“ There’s a stuttering whirr that sounds a lot like cogs and wires getting tangled up. For a moment Leo even considers that there might be a serious malfunction in Usa-5’s artificial voice box or metallic jaw. It is kind of just… hanging open. But then the muzzle clicks shut and opens a second later with a gentle, joyous smile. “Thank you.” 

Okami doesn’t say anything else, he simply floats out of the way and turns toward his guardian. Deferring to him, but also… egging him on almost. 

Leo takes the hint and power walks down the hall, hand already outstretched to offer what seems like a measly gift next to Usa-5’s sword. Each movement is mechanical and stiff, more robotic than any exo, ghost, or Vex Leonardo had ever seen. “Here I— um. I-I’m pretty sure I remembered correctly.” 

Usa-5’s shifts the sword to one hand and lets it drop to his side. Each movement seems like water next to what Leonardo was… attempting a moment ago. Usa plucks the tin up with one sleek, intricate hand. They too look like the picture of grace next to the thick, heavy, three-fingered mitts the mutation left Leo and his brothers with. He does his best not to dwell on the difference.

Watching Usa work is a much better use of his time anyway. The way his thumb flexes, strains against the metal cap for a moment, before it yields and pops open. The way that digit keeps lifting, flicking the lid to the side to reveal what Leo can only hope is a prize worth the effort. 

“These—“ There’s a moment where lenses whirr, shutter closed. Then Usa-5’s muzzle flexes and spreads into that bright, beaming sort of smile again. “You did remember. Vanilla shortbread, and—“ he giggles, actually *giggles.* Leo didn’t know a member of the black armory could do that. He does know it’s the most wonderful sound he’s heard since the Traveler resurrected him. “Look at them. Shaped like little blades.” 

Usa-5 had been focused on the gift until that moment, but when his bright eyes and shining smile turn up, back toward Leo, there’s a funny little flutter his heart and stomach do simultaneously. 

He knows he should say something. ‘You’re welcome’ ‘I’m glad you like them.’ Nothing comes out. Leo doesn’t mind though. Usa-5’s next words are better than anything he could have come up with. 

“Thank you Hu—“ a pause, a shifting of the lenses in those glowing eyes, then, “Thank you, Leonardo.”

[valentine-cafe]

Omg i didn't think you'd actually answer everything TT it was such a delightful read I don't have the wordsss

His pout? His peaceful smile?? His plaYFULNESS? the POETIC BIT?? Hello?? You guys are amazing. I want to wrap haoyu in a blanket and protect him (and his precious bunny) from the world.

The whole thing gave such soft, peaceful vibes if you can't tell I'm melting vhdyd

All this to say, thank you for answering and i hope you'll have a wonderful day!!!

-🌹

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ Ah but mi cara, of course we'd answer everything <3

here on this blog we prioritize answering stuff about how oc's act both romantically and platonically ( or as rivals and enemies ) around people so that one can connect with them even more.

we adore when we get such questions as the ones answered because it gives us even more time to think and sit in the character's thought process! It was such a delight to be answering questions, and we cannot wait for more of them - we always look forward to you being here, dear ( though of course no stress with going here if you have a busy schedule - or simply if you are not feeling well darling, health first!! )

Hàoyú is indeed a very serene character as he is chaotic - a very balanced man who knows when to be serious and who knows how to be silly in all different situations.

It doesn't take as much to make him shy as one would think and he loves it when people can tolerate his eccentric parts as well - or simply enjoy even his mundane sides.

( here's a little bonus sketch of hàoyú to you, for a lovely time spent between you, eden and I <3 )

[mmvalentine]

We Wake, We Misbehave | Feysand x Azriel

It's Sunday, it's raining, I'm back on my dirty little shit again. Also happy lunar new year bunnies!

Feyre wakes in stages. Always, she is slow to wake and the first stage is still a dream but not the same dream as it had been.

No, this dream has Rhys’s fingers in it. On her stomach and in her hair and over the soft skin between her breasts. And he is just as comfortable inhabiting the world of her slumber as he is their bedroom in the dawn.

In the second stage, Feyre’s dream sifts away but she won’t open her eyes yet. Not when the darkness is warmer than the daylight, not when this is a lesson this Court has taught her and the things she learns here are precious as the stars. Instead, she breathes in deeply so that the sun rays tickle her nose and Rhys’s shadows are right there, beneath her eyelids like sly black cats.

Of course there is one thing that pulls her into the third stage, one wonder against which the embrace of sleep cannot hope to compete, one constant that has her waking all the way up again and again as sure as the moon rise. And so Feyre opens her eyes, knowing that the first thing she’ll see is the High Lord’s face, and the violet velvet of her lover’s gaze.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, and she makes her reply directly against his lips without words.

Feyre hears Rhys’s chuckle glittering darkly down the bond, but his mouth is too busy for mirth. Indeed his lips are all seriousness, remembering their way from her chin to her collar bone, whispering secret morning things to her skin.

“You’re glowing again,” he mumbles.

There is a part of Feyre’s mind that diverts attention to turning off the Day Court light; she isn’t ready to be anything but Night yet. But she supposes it is a very small part, because as the strap of her night gown slips down her shoulder and Rhys’s mouth takes advantage of her freed breast, the glow simply turns to fire. She’s burning up under Rhys’s touch anyway, and would not have noticed except that it singes the tip of Rhys’s tongue and he bites down on her nipple in retaliation.

“Sorry,” Feyre gasps, and as soon as she gets the heat under control she’s rewarded with a return to the luscious, luxurious movements of Rhys’s mouth.

All too soon, the kisses trace back up the way they came, and it’s one plush press against her mouth before Rhys is pulling away and standing up out of their bed.

It’s only now that Feyre realizes he’s already fully dressed.

“Leaving so early, my lord?” she asks, noting that he’s in his formal black jacket.

“Afraid so, my lady,” he replies, straightening a lapel and approving that Feyre has finally learned the subtle differences between his casual black jackets and his formal black jackets. It only took her the better part of a century.

“And you absolutely have to go right this second?” Feyre rolls from her side onto her back, stretching as she does so. Rhys’s eyes follow the lengthening of her bare legs and the slide of her nightgown’s hem up the silk of her thighs.

“Regrettably, yes,” he mutters, and it does not escape Feyre’s attention that his anatomy disagrees with this assessment as much as she does.

Her eyes follow the crisp seams of her husband’s suit, and settle on the hard shape below his belt buckle. Her lips feel suddenly dry, and she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Behave,” Rhys croons, low and smooth.

Feyre shudders and her legs press together.

“Hurry back,” she tells him, and the husk of her voice nearly has him reconsidering. But Rhys is nothing if not professional.

Instead, he removes the silver and leather watch from his wrist and buckles it around Feyre’s wrist. It looks so much bigger around her bones, and even on its smallest notch, slips half way down her forearm.

“One hour,” he says. And then he leans in and murmurs at her ear. “And then you’re mine.”

The sound of Feyre’s teeth clicking together is audible in the dawn quiet, and Rhys laughs low in his chest.

“You can wait an hour,” he tells her. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Feyre whispers.

“Good girl,” he says, and before he leaves Rhys bends his head, pushes up her dress, and tongue kisses her pussy just long enough for her to gasp so hard she stops breathing.

And then he’s gone and the room is suddenly colder.

Feyre falls back against the pillows and tries to go back to sleep.

It’s early enough that she should be able to, but she’s so wet from Rhys’s kiss that she can still feel it between her legs and it’s hard to get comfortable. Feyre tosses back and forth, but her heart is still beating a little too fast. She grabs at the hem of her satin dress and tries to use it to wipe at the mess Rhys left, but she’s worked up and the friction only makes things worse.

Feyre groans and rolls onto her belly. There’s a buzzing feeling now, in her stomach. Lower. She slides a hand beneath her, presses her fingers against herself in the hopes of relieving the pressure, and it feels good. She shifts her hips back and forth and it feels better, and worse. She allows herself just a second, before she squeezes her eyes shut and rolls back over, flinging her hands away from herself.

She promised Rhys.

But gods an hour seems so long.

She stares at the ceiling and the hour feels even longer.

So long, in fact, that she feels quite sure that she could get herself off and be completely to go again with Rhys when he was back. How would he know?

Feyre sighs and slips her hand back between her legs. She moves her fingers and instantly feels the frustration start to melt away. In its place, a different kind of tension builds quickly, and she knows this won’t take long. Not with the memory of Rhys’s tongue so fresh in her mind. Not with the perfection of her recall of the last time they fucked, with Feyre’s face pressed against a wall and the guttural roll of Rhys’s moans in her ear. She pictures it now, can nearly feel the cold plaster on her cheek; the ache in her spine as she tries to arch more deeply; the relentless, delicious slide in and out of her… Feyre’s fingers move faster and it is so, so easy to reach for that edge, to tumble straight over into-

“What the fuck.”

Feyre’s eyes snap open, and she finds her husband standing at the foot of the bed, wearing an anger as black as his suit.

“Five minutes,” he grinds out. “I leave you for five fucking minutes and you can’t even-” He bites off the end of his sentence and pinches the bridge of his nose. Feyre lies there, frozen. Gone is the feather-down warmth of this morning, gone is her dawn lover. The High Lord of the Night Court glares at his wife.

“Feyre,” he purrs, and this time her name drips from his lips like poison. Darkness like smoke curls from behind him, and snakes up the bed while he speaks.

“Do I not care for you?”

Feyre’s wrists sting as they are wreathed in shadows cold as ice. 

“Do I not provide food, and shelter, and love undying?”

Harder than necessary, the shadows yank her hands above her head and pin them to the headboard. The glass face of his watch on her wrist cracks against the wood.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” Feyre breathes.

“Yes,” her lover repeats. “And what have I asked from you in return but one, small thing?”

Feyre shivers as the slithering shackles tighten. “Nothing,” she replies.

“Nothing at all,” Rhys says. “Nothing but for you to lie here in the most exquisite comfort, and keep one thing just for me.”

His eyes darken now, the violet shrinking back as if colour, too, fears the King.

“And here you are with your fingers on what’s mine.”

“I’m sorr-”

“Too late for apologies, Feyre darling,” Rhys says, and his voice is so low she can taste the black of his boots.

Suddenly, strange fingers spear through her hair and her head is pulled back sharply. Feyre cries out in pain and shock, while Rhys just stands and watches while the newcomer laughs darkly in her ear.

“You should know by now, High Lady, what we do with those who misbehave.”

The voice is all too familiar, and the cold trickle down Feyre’s spine is equal parts fear and excitement.

“Shadow singer,” she whispers, and the voice laughs again.

“Hold her fast for me now,” he murmurs, not to her, but to the midnight tendrils that are circling fast around her ribcage, her stomach, her thighs, her ankles. Soon she cannot move, despite how hard she tries to thrash against her bindings.

“You pricks,” Feyre spits. It’s the last thing she says; her mouth is covered next, and she huffs out flame and ice through her nose but the shadows, with no nerves of their own, pay her no heed. “She won’t be going anywhere,” Azriel says.

Feyre watches Rhys tilt his head to either side, cracking his neck.

“Good,” he says, and then he shoves out of his jacket and shirt.

The spymaster comes around to face Feyre and she can see that he, too, is without his shirt. He’s still clad in Illyrian fighting leathers that hug the muscles of his thighs, and his knives- more knives than usual?- are strapped to his hips. Truth-teller, as always, is in his hand, and the tip of it caresses a long line across Feyre’s jaw.

“Rhys called me to teach you a lesson,” he tells her. “So. Are you going to be a good girl for us now?” A stray lock of his hair tickles her cheek. “Stay nice and quiet?”

Feyre inhales through her nose, and then nods. The shadow slides from her mouth, but curls under her chin to tip her face up toward Rhys’s closest friend.

“They always come round in the end,” he says, and then the mattress dips and when she looks up, Rhys is settling his body over hers.

“You know,” he says, face half an inch from hers and angling as if he might kiss her, “when I met you, you were such a frightened little thing.”

Azriel slides in behind her, the shadows detaching from the headboard so that he can prop her back up against his chest. Her wrists are still bound together though, and he settles them behind his neck as he stretches his legs out to bracket hers. He’s like a furnace everywhere around her.

“From what I hear though, always found it difficult to follow orders,” he muses, and Rhys chuckles.

“Well now, that’s true,” the High Lord says. His breath fans against her face, and Feyre can never quite think straight when his lips are this close. Without even meaning to, she leans forward, but Rhys pulls back just enough to maintain the half inch between them. “Oh look Azriel, she still thinks she can get what she wants.”

When the spy laughs behind her, she can feel it rumble in her chest. He runs the backs of his fingers down her sides, barely covered in her slip of a nightgown, and she trembles under his not-enough touch.

“She’s quite adorable, your little pet,” he comments. “Hm. I like it when she shivers like that.”

Rhys is looking right into her eyes, but only talks to Azriel.

“Try the ears,” he says.

With no warning whatsoever, Azriel ducks his head and licks a line up the side of Feyre’s neck and up to her ear. Sucks her earlobe between his teeth and then nips hard before letting go. Feyre gasps and, even though she tries to brace against it, she shudders as goosebumps break out over her skin. Azriel laughs, and it’s such a cruel sound.

“It’s a neat trick, brother,” he says, and then captures her ear again. This time, his tongue slides into her ear before he’s got the lobe in his mouth again, and Feyre doesn’t know whether she’s repulsed or turned on. Rhys’s eyes dance before her face, and he folds his hands on her breastbone and rests his chin on them.

While Azriel focuses on her right ear, his fingertips keep trailing up and down her sides. Brush the sides of her breasts so that they peak painfully and the satin of her dress feels suddenly rough on her skin. She tries to writhe, needs more pressure and not this infuriating lightness, not this teasing touch, near but never where she needs it- but the weight of Rhys is holding her down. She’s overstimulated, tries to close her eyes to calm her body. Takes deep breathes and wants to need it less, but when she’s not looking, Rhys puts his mouth on her nipple. Through the nightgown, hot on the too-sensitive tip of her, and her back arches up off Azriel’s chest. She can’t go too far though, because her arms are still caught around the shadow singer’s neck.

“Stay down, pretty girl,” Azriel murmurs, and he brings a hand to slide around Feyre’s throat. Pulls her gently but firmly back down against him, and resumes his ministrations under her ear, at the corner of her jaw, and the down the side of her neck.

Meanwhile, Rhys has tugged the front of her dress down and has her right nipple between his lips and the left one under his palm.

Feyre is panting now, and Rhys’s intensity rises with the rate of her heartbeat. When she bites back a moan, he tears the front of the nightgown open with an easy swipe of his shadow claw-tipped fingers.

“Ohh no,” he says. “You’re not still holding back from us. Now when you’ve already tried to steal from me once today.”

Rhys lifts himself up and finally, finally kisses her. Tongue in her mouth, teeth in her lips kisses her, pressing her back into the spymaster with the force of it and eating up her breath as he moves. Azriel hums as he does it, squeezes lightly with the hand on her throat and slides the other one down into the gap that Rhys has left. Fingers tripping over her stomach and grazing her clit over her underwear. The moan rips from Feyre’s throat and Rhys smiles on her mouth.

“That’s better,” he praises. Kisses her once more on the lips, then her chin, all the way down her sternum, the curve of her belly. Azriel’s fingers start to circle between her legs and the kisses burn like a brand. Rhys’s hands land on her thighs, grip tight as he moves down the bed. Her underwear tears as easily as her nightgown had, expensive faerie lace discarded on the floor just the latest casualty of Feyre’s ruined lingerie collection.

“So you see,” Rhys says, biting into the soft part of her inner thigh, “you can be good.” He repeats the action on the other side. “But that doesn’t mean we aren’t still going to torture you a little.”

Rhys’s tongue hits her pussy then, and Feyre cries out again. He licks into her, head moving back and forth while Azriel’s fingers find her clit again. Feyre tries to move onto him, but the shadows stay tight in place around her abdomen. The hard line of Azriel’s cock is now digging into her back and she’s aware that her restricted movements rub up against him with every pass.

“Does that feel good, kitten?” Azriel asks. His hips shift behind her. “Nod your head ‘yes’ if it feels good.”

Feyre nods, but the shadowsinger is still gripping her throat and her head doesn’t move. Rhys’s head abruptly lifts, Azriel’s fingers disappear from her clit, and Feyre mewls in protest.

“She didn’t say yes,” Rhys says to Azriel. “Maybe we should stop.”

“No,” Feyre gasps, and spasms in Azriel’s arms.

“No it doesn’t feel good?” the spy asks her.

“No I-” but she’s cut off when his hand suddenly tightens around her throat, strangling the words.

“No again,” Rhys muses. He places deep, sucking kisses in the creases of her thighs. Azriel lets her breathe again, and Feyre gasps.

“I don’t think he likes that word,” he murmurs in her ear. His hand still rests over her neck, and Feyre stays quiet. The fingers between her legs dance about the pale skin under her navel, low but not where she wants them. Rhys sighs and his exhale is all over the heat of her.

“Shall we try again?” he asks.

Azriel’s thumb strokes her jaw.

“I think she should beg for it,” he says.

“So,” Rhys says. “Show him how good you beg, darling.” His hands squeeze bruisingly tight on her thighs.

“Please,” Feyre whispers.

“Louder,” Rhys tells her. But her voice is somewhere under Azriel’s grasp and all she can do is mouth the word.

“Please.”

Truth-teller flashes between the shadowsinger’s fingers.

“He said louder,” he growls, and her throat is freed but the cold tip of the dagger walks the line from her left ear to her right.

“Please,” Feyre tries again, louder this time but her voice cracks as she says it.

Rhys lifts up, rises smoothly to meet her face and the golden-brown of his muscled chest fills the entirety of her vision. He leans in, eyes smoking, and Feyre’s mouth nearly waters for want of his kiss. At the last minute, he lifts his chin and kisses the spymaster instead.

Feyre’s jaw drops in shock, and her indignation comes out in a squeak she hadn’t intended to let out. There’s a rumble of nasty laughter above her head, and she can see Rhys’s shoulders shake with it. He leans up to deepen the kiss, and jealousy is bright and hot in her chest. Feyre lifts up, her hands shackled all the while behind Azriel’s neck, and her head butts up against her husband’s chin. Azriel’s hands clamp down heavily on her shoulders and push her back down.

“What did I tell you, little girl?” he asks her. “Stay down.”

Rhys laughs again and comes back down to her level.

“The shadowsinger tastes different to you,” he tells her. Leans in to whisper in her ear. “Like smoke, and cedar.” He pulls back, and draws the tip of his nose down the bridge of hers. Feyre flinches back; she doesn’t want to hear this. Doesn’t like to share. “Do you want to taste?” His mouth ghosts over hers, and Feyre bites at his lip. Now it’s Azriel who laughs.

“Possessive little thing, isn’t she?” he asks the High Lord.

“What’s wrong honey?” Rhys croons. “Don’t like it when things that belong to you are taken?”

“No,” Feyre scowls. So fast, Rhys’s face darkens. His voice whips out and stings.

“Now you know how it feels.”

Suddenly, Azriel lifts her hands off his shoulders. She is yanked up onto her knees, and then thrown at Rhys like a ragdoll. The shadows release her wrists, and she reaches out to catch herself against the Night King’s chest, but at the last minute he moves back so she falls to her hands and knees on the bed.

“Stay there,” he snarls, and there’s the silvery clink of Rhys’s belt buckle for just a moment before the head of his cock touches her lips. “Open.”

Feyre frowns, and takes him in her mouth. Closes her lips over him, thinks she can make him remember who, in this room, is his mate-

“I said, open.”

Shocked, Feyre releases him. Holds her mouth open like she’s told, even as she stares up at her lover in confusion. He doesn’t meet her eyes though, just rubs his cock up and down her tongue. Lets his head fall back for a second in pleasure, then watches her mouth again.

“Look at you drool,” he says. “Like a hungry little mutt.”

It is not lost on her that that’s what they used to call him. The half-breed King.

And then he does look at her and the lust in his eyes undoes her. She hopes he will always look at her like that, like he’s going to devour her whole, like the gentleness of his hands when they come up to cradle her face belies the violence in his violet gaze.

She’s all but forgotten the spymaster, when the hot tip of him pushes against her entrance.

Feyre’s eyes widen and she has to remember to keep her mouth open.

“Ass up, darling,” Rhys tells her, and she never disobeys when he uses that black velvet voice. “Good girl,” he praises, and as she arches, Azriel slides just an inch inside her. Feyre tries to moan but can’t close her jaw.

“Oh that’s very good,” Rhys says, and keeps sliding against her tongue. “I’ll tell you when you can close.”

Azriel moves his hands over her ass, smooth first and then squeezing.

“You have such a nice ass, High Lady,” he murmurs, and the callouses on his palms scratch her skin. There’s a sharp cracking sound as Azriel slaps her without warning, and Feyre pitches forward in surprise so she chokes herself a little on Rhys’s cock. They both laugh.

“Told you we were going to torture you,” Azriel says. “But just a bit.”

And with that he rubs his hands over the sting, soothing her back down. While he pushes further inside her.

“Is your jaw getting sore yet?” Rhys asks. His thumb massages under her ear, and indeed it has started to ache. “Your poor bruised throat. Let me hurt it more.”

He shoves all the way into her mouth, at the same time as Azriel sinks down to his hilt. Feyre whimpers and her hands clench in the sheets.

“You can close now,” Rhys says, but it’s so hard now that he’s against the back of her throat. Azriel is moving slow but hitting hard, and Feyre focuses on breathing through her nose so she doesn’t gag, arches deeper so she isn’t tipped forward every time.

“Fuck, she’s so good isn’t she?” Rhys pulls back, gathers up her hair in his fist and uses it to ease her back onto him. “Spank her again.”

Azriel exhales while he strokes a circle into the cheek of her backside, and then lands another slap, clean as the first.

“That’s right,” the shadowsinger sighs. “Moan with your mouth full.”

He smacks her again, and this time it seems to excite him. His hips speed up behind her, and the low groan he makes gets her wetter. Feyre’s eyes slide closed and she moves with him, fucking him back and wanting him to make that sound again. Her eyes snap open when her hair is yanked.

“Did I say you could stop looking at me?” Rhys asks her. His mouth is twisted, and Feyre wonders if he doesn’t want her to enjoy herself too much while his brother is all the way inside her. It’s a small kind of victory, and she sucks hard and flicks her tongue over the head of him. To her delight, the glare slackens, and Rhys’s free hand cups the back of her head to pull her further down onto him.

Back and forth she goes. Pushing back onto Azriel’s cock and forward over Rhys’s, she finds a rhythm and rocks between the two of them. Matching their paces has meant she’s bobbing faster in Rhys’s lap than she was before, and his hands tighten in her hair but don’t slow her down. When she has them both moaning, it’s a deep-belly satisfaction that only spurs her on.

“Fuck, pretty girl,” Azriel pants. “I could come right now.”

“Not until she does,” Rhys growls, and Feyre thinks that might mean she’s forgiven.

There’s a frustrated groan from behind her, and then rough hands shove under her belly. Find her clit and, none too gently, push circles there. Over and over until her hips move erratically, involuntarily, knocked out of the meticulous timing she had curated. Too quickly, heat curls in her belly and she tries to shake her head ‘no’ but she’s caught on Rhys’s cock and all that comes out is a strangled cry.

“Oh were you enjoying yourself, darling?” Rhys asks her. “Did you think this was going to go on until you were satisfied?” His fingers grip harder around her jaw and won’t let her answer. His voice pitches low and his eyes burn into hers. “Did you forget you were being punished?”

And then he speaks directly into her mind and its her undoing.

Come for me. Right the fuck now.

Her body spasms hard, so eager to do as he says. Azriel swears loudly behind her as she clenches around him, and his fingers move on her almost painfully rough now. Rhys pulls out of her mouth, lifts her by the throat so he can slam his mouth on hers and her hands lean heavily on her forearms to keep herself up. His tongue against hers intensifies everything and even though she’s not ready, even though she wants to draw out the pleasure, even though she’s starting to hurt everywhere, she climaxes hard between the Illyrians. She gasps in one moment and snaps her jaw shut the next, drawing blood from Rhys’s lip between her teeth. He only bites her back, and then laughs as she shudders and sags in their arms.

Feyre has only a moment’s reprieve before she’s being lifted and rearranged, barely aware of what’s happening to her. The boys have got her on her back now. Rhys is settling between her legs, even though she’s too sensitive to go again and he’s thicker than Azriel. She moans softly as he moves inside her anyway, limbs still too limp to resist. When she opens her eyes, Azriel has his cock in his hand and is stroking it over her face while he watches her get fucked.

“What’re you doing?” she mumbles, and her husband laughs again.

“She’s adorable when she’s cock drunk, isn’t she?” he asks the spymaster. Azriel sucks in air through his teeth.

“Looks good from here, boss,” he says, and she can see a wet bead gleam at his tip.

“Paint her mouth,” Rhys tells him, husky as he moves steadily in and out of her. She thought she was exhausted but he’s a tide that draws her back in, slowly but surely, and the bitter, salt taste Azriel trails over her lips is obscene but seems fitting.

“Gods, I can’t do this much longer,” he says, and sure enough, when she looks up at him his pupils are blown watching her tongue slide out and collect what he’s given her.

“Come then,” Rhys says, and it’s seconds before he’s spilling, hot and wet down over Feyre’s chin and neck. It pools in the hollow of her throat and runs down onto the sheets, and the sounds he makes gives Feyre shivers. She’s distracted until Rhys pulls back and sits back against the headboard, and the sudden emptiness distresses her.

Feyre whines and kicks her feet out in protest, but Rhys just leans his head back and fixes his bottomless gaze on her.

“Come and get it, honey,” he whispers. And Feyre is drawn up like a rag doll, scrambles into his lap like a starving little kitten and can’t sit herself down on his cock fast enough. There’s a rumble from his chest and a flooding relief when she’s back where she belongs. Rhys chuckles, even as his hands find her hips and he bucks up into her. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs. “Make me come and your sins will be forgotten.”

Feyre doesn’t need to be told twice.

She laces her fingers behind his neck, leans her forehead against his lips and rolls her hips into his. She doesn’t know where Azriel is and doesn’t care- the world begins and ends with her lover. She pulls herself into him, grinding in his lap and frowning when she can’t get him deep enough. Sits up on her knees to get more leverage and fucks him harder, chasing something she can’t see but surely must be just beyond her fingertips.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Rhys breathes. “Keep going just like that.”

She’s bouncing on him now, with someone else’s cum cooling on her skin and trailing down her chest. Can’t remember whose, only knows that she wants it inside as well as outside and maybe then she’d be sated.

“Kiss me,” Rhys commands, and she lifts her head to meet his lips and as soon as she does Rhys pours down the bond. His pleasure, dark and sharp, surges through her veins. Where she’s getting light-headed and struggling to anchor herself to the earth, Rhys is an underground tremor that thrums somewhere deep and unworldly. It’s enough to knock the breath out of her, but Rhys’s grip keeps dragging her back and forth, his tongue keeps chasing hers.

“Come on honey,” he says. “Make me come.”

The serrated edge of his voice brings her back, and Feyre snaps her eyes open onto his. She spears her thin fingers into the raven curls of his hair, and watches his eyes roll back a little. Her knees dig into the muscles at the sides of his thighs and she rides him faster, harder, watching his chest move as his breathing shallows.

“You like this?” Rhys asks her. “You like knowing what you do to me?”

And Feyre gives a small, sweat-slicked smile because she does, she loves watching the High Lord unravel beneath her hips.

“Give it to me,” she whispers. “I want it. I want it so so bad.” She watches Rhys’s eyes go black.

“Yeah?” he pants. “You need it? Need it to make you feel good?”

Feyre moans, and knows the sound drives him mad.

“Yes,” she tells him. “Pleasepleaseplease I want it…”

“Fuck Feyre you’re begging for it?”

Feyre just nods and kisses him, and the groans long and low in his throat while his hands clamp down on her ass and hold her in place while he comes. Feyre doesn’t think she’s close but the feeling of him driving hard up into her, of him shaking as he fills her pushes her right over the edge with him. Rhys’s arms go round her, one wrapping around her little waist and the other sliding up her back and into her hair, crushing her to his chest while they ride the aftershocks.

It’s long moments before Feyre comes back to earth, and she sighs as she slides herself off Rhys’s still-hard cock. She turns and settles with her back against Rhys’s chest, and his arms come back around her while his mouth follows the curve from her ear to her shoulder.

When she opens her eyes, she finds Azriel lying face down across the foot of the bed, watching her.

“What are you looking at?” she croaks, voice rough from moaning. She lifts a foot and pokes the shadowsinger in the cheek with her big toe.

Quick as lightning, Azriel grabs a hold of her ankle and sucks the toe into his mouth for a second before letting her go. Feyre shivers.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to tease, High Lady,” he says to her. “Not while my cum is still coating your tits.”

She grabs a book from the nightstand and throws it at the spy’s head, but he dodges it easily with a laugh.

“I think I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” he says, and rolls off the bed, scooping up his clothes as he goes.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Feyre says quietly. It wouldn’t be the first time Azriel has fallen asleep in their bed.

“I can’t stay today,” he says, leaning in to kiss Feyre on the cheek. “But maybe you’ll misbehave again soon.” He winks, and then is gone.

Feyre sighs and leans into Rhys. He’s quiet as he keeps pressing his lips to her hair, her temples, her cheekbones. She turns to look at him.

“Didn’t you have a meeting or something?” she asks him. He laughs.

“Where do you think Azriel is going to with such urgency?”

Feyre smiles. “Poor shadow singer,” she says.

“I think he’d disagree,” Rhys says, and pointedly cleans his brother off of her chest with the sheet.

***

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[studentinpursuitofclouds]

bc we were briefly talking abt bugs…

i like the idea of lance protecting the farmer from bugs without hesitation if they ever went into the mutant bug lair together. Especially if they’re afraid. lance actually doesn’t mind the bugs too much

but isaac on the other hand is just as disturbed by them as the farmer. scared even. corrupted serpents flying at him trying to kill him ? big deal who cares, he can handle it. but slimy gross buzzing bugs flying at him trying to kill him ??

Eyyyy, good headcanon 😃

Lance is, in my opinion, a wildlife lover, used to all kinds of wildlife, so insects don't bother him at all. Sure, he'd destroy beetles and maggots that had been corrupted by dark magic without any problem, but it's not as if he had such a strong aversion to them. At most, just a slight irritation when a bug soils on his cloak or white shirt.

He will not, by the way, judge or laugh at the Farmer if they are afraid of these bugs. After all, mother nature's creatures can be... really frightening and repulsive sometimes. And kindly conjure up a magical barrier for the Farmer that won't let a single bug touch them. At the same time he will still try to help them to cope with their fear, because if Farmer finds themself alone with such an enemy - and the situation can be very deplorable.

Isaac, on the other hand.... Hmm, he's not afraid of dangerous giant snakes, Fallen adventurers, mummies and purple slimes he slashes with his sword almost daily. But every man has a weak spot, and every man has something that terribly afraid of. He may indeed have a fear of monster bugs and all insects in general. Why? The theories are many: an unpleasant moment/trauma in his childhood that left its imprint, an allergic reaction to bugs monster bites, or the fact that in ancient times people feared and avoided insects because their bites could be fatal. Either way - the fear is there.

One could understand a very young adventurers or even a Farmer who has just embarked on the dangerous path of fighting monsters, but a battle-hardened adventurer from the Castle Village who encounters creatures a hundred times more dangerous than the maggots and flies in the Mines? But like I said - everyone has their weaknesses.

I also like to think that Isaac purposely doesn't go to those Mines levels with insects, justifying it by saying "they're so weak and pathetic, so it's not worth wasting his precious time". But if fate (or Marlon's request/Camilla's order) forces him to go there, he'll still kill them, but with his face pale and a scream just stuck in his chest.

And that, my dears, is why this little bitch Isaac works alone.

(I also made a meme. Thank you Bunny for inspiration 😁)

[gamelpar]

bulkhead is definitely an animal lover and I'll allow no one to say otherwise. miko was the gateway for him to become more secure with his large size around small organics and so he discover all kinds of animals on earth and now they watch animal planet and other tv shows about animals together. if it isn't a show about car smashing it's about animals. they text and send each other images and videos of animals all the time

miko: [sends image of a cat] bulk bulk look at this kitty!!

bulkhead: oooohhhh!!! beautiful kitty! 😺😺😺 so precious!!! 💕💕

-

miko: today was not a good day

bulkhead: no dogs?

miko: no dogs 😔

bulkhead: 😔

-

bulkhead: i saw this little frog when i was out on patrol today!

miko: !!!! he jump???

bulkhead: he jump!!! 😁😁

miko: 🐸🐸🐸🐸!!!

most of team prime gets used to bulkhead randomly showing them images of animals and gushing over them and they all humor him. 'optimus check out this dog miko met today! isn't he a good boy?' 'he looks like a very good boy indeed bulkhead' or 'hey arcee what do you think of this little fella? *shows image of a crocodile* 'it's pretty cool, bulk' 'i know right??? it's so awesome did you know-'

bumblebee and smokescreen are the same as bulkhead and miko about animals and so is jack and raf. they have group chat together specifically for sharing anything about animals

raf: squids actually changes their colors to blend in with their environment!

smokescreen: really?? no way that is awesome!! this planet has so many cool animals!!!

miko: dUDE WAIT UNTIL YOU HEAR ABOUT THE PLATYPUS

jack: just saw a little birb outside guys

bumblebee: [sends image of a aardwolf] doggie!!!🐶🐶🐶

ratchet gets interrupted at least once a day bc bulkhead or someone else needs to show him this cute bunny or this awesome bird species seen on tv or did you know bats are the only mammal that can fly??? and ratchet huffs and plays uninterested but he secretly thinks the animals are cute too everyone knows he has a soft spark

the only ones who doesn't really get is ultra magnus and wheeljack. magnus is more that he's still new to earth and doesn't get why a 'cute' animal is relevant to anything but still gets bombarded with Images of horses and tigers and snakes and whatnot by miko. he's stopped blocking miko every time it happens at least. wheeljack has seen more of earth and yeah sure he's come across some species he thinks are cool and interesting but mostly he doesn't really have an opinion on them. bulk sends him an image of a sheep and goes 'look how fluffy she is!!! isn't she adorable jackie?' and wheeljack is like 'yeah sure i guess'. he doesn't really have a choice at this point but to agree otherwise miko and bulkhead will yell at him

[honeybeewhereartthee]

MY DARLING DOLLS

PREVIOUS || PT11 CH65 || NEXT

The gigantic and majestic dragon slowly surrounded by light before it shrink into a form of humanoid with a tail laying low behind him and water like horns that flow down from his head to his back almost like a hair; a familiar face with scales and markings yet hidden behind his sleeve as he finally transform back and realize you can see him in not fully human state.

"Ahh... D-dont look.... I'm ' horrendous'..." He tearfully hide his face, embarrassed to let you see him. Almost fearful of what you react to his appearance.

"Huh." You stared at him confuse after you finally snap from gazing at him. You were taken back from his 'new' appearance but it's not the bad kind.

"That's kinda insulting to say. After all if you call yourself that, then what about me?" You sigh as you realize pretty people sure think so low of their good looks."your beautiful obviously, my dollmaker." He quickly says to you as he peak from his sleeves.

"Hmm and you are too. One gorgeous person. Or beautiful. I don't know the proper words. My bad." You sheepishly smiles a bit shy from his sudden compliment.

"Do you not fear me?" He ask.

"Why?"- you gaze at him confuse .

"Because I'm an unknown being and people fear the unknown don't they?"

"Aren't you the one who I been with since I wake up from being poke in the eye as well before it? Through not seen by naked eyes?" You tilt your head in question, he nodded his head.

"Then you aren't unknown but a precious person that is familial to me." You smiles warmly.

"The main reason you made me worried. Because your important to me..."you wanted to explain more but A soft kiss against yours, it doesn't last that long as the other lean away after a second, it almost felt unreal. You gaze at his ocean green eyes that stares at you with adoration and reluctant sadness.

"Aimcee... " Holding your hand with his cold hands he felt dejected yet happy. His "I'm 'sorry' that I have worried you..." Gazing at your eyes in a locked eye contact.

"But 'i' did it, I become a 'hero' worthy to 'stay' with you..." He smiles. "wǒ zhēn de hěn ài nǐ." He mumbles with a straight face thru a slight tint could be seen in his face. You wonder what the last sentence he mean but he don't explain.

"Indeed your a hero." You nodded with a smile. You can see his dragon tail waggling behind him as you reach to pay his head. "Aimcee...." His eyes sparkle as he stared at you. "wǒ shì rú cǐ ài nǐ..." He seems determine while he says this. You should look what his talking about later.

"Hey... I really do love to break the moment. But you two better leave this space." You heard someone said. You stared at the stranger with a bunny theme outfit holding a familiar bunny in one of his arm and a gigantic ax hammer in another.

"How 'rude'..." Your dragon kin friend pouts as he stood in front of you in between the stranger and you. "Oh well... Let's go home." He sigh as he held your hand after a moment of glaring to that person.

"Why you glaring at me for? Isn't it good that I am the one task here Instead of Unrein?" The bunny guy pointed out feeling offended by the glare of the other. "If he was the one who takes the situation. You would be taken away."

"Your quite 'silly' little fairy. 'i' won't be taken away by just anyone." The dragon pout as he walks pass the 'fairy'.

"... whatever." The fairy rolled his eyes before he follow along. "Since you did something 'heroic' as this, a higher up have given you a privilege to not be linked to the canon fate, thus gain a new name."

"Aimcee..." As the three of you come out of the space, you all arrive in a beautiful garden full of purple vine flowers. "Can you give me a new name?" Tagging your arm closer to him, he give you a pleading look. "Huh? I'm pretty bad with names." You chuckle Not understanding the concept of what the fairy was talking about.

"That's ok aimcee.. if it's from you any name is wonderful ~"

You nodded your head, thinking of a good name as you look around the place. You look at the familiar flowers. "Hey what about wisteria ~? You such a beautiful being after all." You unconsciously said some rizz words. "Ok~!" He nodded his head, liking the name very well.

"Hey. Your not supposed to do that." The bunny boy want to complain but saw a screen that says that the name is uploaded to the system, unable to change it anymore.

"Whatever." He sigh as he look at the two before leaving them with the blob bunny that waited for him to pick him up.

.

.

.

He can't help but smile with a flint of amusement of what to come next, according to the 'script' of what to come next of this alter world, the so called happy ending right now won't last.

How laughable watching others tales end in a tragedy.

[bloodystray]

1, 6, 15 (lmao), 27, 43 (I know the answer to this one I just like hearing you talk about food), 44

1: who is/are your comfort character(s)?

honestly i do not really have comfort characters, not in the sense that most would. i just have comfort media and whatnot i guess, but individual characters are just parts of a story to me

6. why did you do that?

because i am the embodiment of sin.

15. are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

yes, and i love my darling little bunny with all my heart

27. about how many hours of sleep did you get?

uhhhhhhhh. bout three? maybe four. i went to sleep at like 9:30am and remember getting up around noon

43. what’s your take on spicy foods?

put them in my fucking mouth. i love spicy food so much, you know this well. i'm currently working up my spice tolerance to habanero peppers but i might also start eating some birds eye chilies if i can find them up here. i want to get to the point where i can eat them whole without too much discomfort then move on to scotch bonnets.

44. you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?

ohhhhhh god this is hard. this is really hard. if it wasn't for the fact that i'd miss howl so so much i'd probably choose my girlfriend trixie. a hole carefully opened in the side of the head, then lobotomy and death by brainfucking. alternatively, suffocation via throatfucking is fun and much more drawn-out. then again there's also spite killing and revenge killing and those are pretty good too. a few people come to mind. the parents of those who are close to me that i know have mistreated them first and foremost. knowing what i know of some of them, the worst i can do still isn't enough i think at the end of the day though i really just hate the idea of taking a life for any reason other than absolute necessity (even if i have a snuff kink). absolute grievous injury, immense pain, suffering and regret? delicious. i love seeing pretty weak things scared and in pain, and i like seeing awful people who exploit and hurt others for selfish reasons suffer nearly as much. i'm much more personally interested in revenge than justice, simply due to how much i enjoy it, even if i acknowledge justice in certain cases to be the apparent best choice. that being said, if it gives me an excuse to put someone's eye out i won't complain no matter who's in front of me. maybe it's a bit deranged but i just love the idea of it. shrieks of pain and desperate struggle followed by the adrenaline, the shock, then the setting horror as they realize they have permanently lost something very, very precious indeed :D