#she is always loafing on my bed

[meownotgood]

loaf of bread fresh from oven

[luveline]

would you ever be willing to write the day spencer and stripper!reader met in the grocery store? i’ve always loved the concept when you’ve referenced it in the story, i would love to read it👀 you’re absolutely incredible and i can never say anything not anon to you because my blog is flooding you with notes constantly and i’m embarrassed😅

thank you for your request ❤️ fem!reader, 1.5k

cw for domestic violence and workplace abuse

There's this weird organic grocery store by Spencer's place that's far too expensive, but it's a ten minute walk, so that's where he goes. (Weird in separation to organic.) 

He needs a lot of groceries now he's home for the week. Bread, vegetables, rice, flour if he wants to try and make pancakes, which he does. He also needs a new pen to write a letter for his mom, but Leaven is slightly too small for a stationery section. 

He doesn't know what he'll say to her in this one. Maybe that the cases he's going on are easy, or that he's been reading about crows. She's not feeling well lately. It might help her to know he's doing gentle things, even if it isn't true. 

No, he thinks. Can't lie to her. He never lies to his mom. 

Eggs. Sugar. Coffee grounds. He fills his cart. It'll be a lot to carry on the way home, but better to do it in one go. He likes keeping busy but he's a human being, too, and he's looking forward to spending at least sixteen hours in bed after dinner tonight. 

You look tired, too. 

Your back is turned, but Spencer knows it's you. You must live close by, he's been seeing you duck in and out for months. Usually with a loaf of bread or a single box of painkillers tucked in your pocket. You don't steal, he'd be able to tell, and he wouldn't say anything if you did, anyways. All he knows about you is that you have a nice smile when you have the energy, and your voice is like silk. Purposeful or by nature, he's yet to guess. 

You're standing by the end of the aisle near the checkouts with a basket hanging from your fingers. All you're buying today is a box of pancake mix and a bag of peas. 

Weird, he thinks with a smile. Spencer likes weird stuff. It's quirky. 

You turn to see which checkout is empty and Spencer's smile abruptly drops. 

You have a bruise across half of your face. It isn't strictly fresh —he can see the split skin on your cheek starting to close in on itself, and your purpled eye is open (though barely). You're frowning. Spencer knows how bad it hurts to get hurt like that. For a split second he can't believe someone could do that to another person, and then he remembers the hundreds of women he's had the privilege to meet at their most vulnerable, who trusted him, and he thinks maybe he's capable of helping another one. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You meet his eyes with a funny smile. “Hey. Sorry, am I in the way?” you ask, your voice stretched, thin but not weak. 

“No, you're not, it's… I see you here all the time.” 

You hold your breath. When you talk, it rushes out. “So?” you ask wearily.

“Are you okay?” 

Your funny smile fades as Spencer's had. He supposes that's the talent of cruelty. Even when it's over, it's not truly over. Your bruise still hurts, and Spencer still needs to know you'll be okay when you go home tonight. 

“I see you all the time too. We've… we've actually spoken before, haven't we?” you ask after a moment. 

“Yeah, about spirometry. I was out of breath running and–” It doesn't matter. You asked him if he was okay, and he explained that he was, just that his lungs don't hold much air on account of his own laziness, and it doesn't matter. “Are you? Alright? It's a bad bruise.” 

“It's getting better.” 

It might be, but there's something so raw about seeing you standing there in your sweatpants too big for you and a hoodie with a hole in it, purple and yellow contusion across your eyes and nose like the clumsy stroke of a paintbrush. Spencer will admit to feeling sorry for you.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks, knowing this isn't the right place. “There's the cafe at the front? Let me pay for my stuff and–” 

“I'm really okay–” 

“You had a cast on your wrist two weeks ago and now you're here with a limp and a really bad bruise,” he says softly, imploringly, “I just wanna talk to you about it. You don't have to say yes, I'm not trying to be weird, but I–” 

You cut off his mile a minute speech with a small smile. “Okay. I'm not, you know, doing anything anyways. It'll be nice to sit down.” 

Spencer knows it's dumb, but he wants to show he has good intentions. He takes your basket out of your hands and nods toward the cafe past the checkouts. “I'll come and meet you.” 

“You don't have to,” you say, gesturing at the basket. 

“The damage is done, right? This place is ridiculous.” He doesn't like the way you're holding your hip. It makes him feel sick, even though there's no proof one way or another to say you've been hurt beyond your bruising.

He pays for his things and yours and meets you at the cafe. He's half expecting you to have bolted, but you sit at a table near the entrance, completely still. 

Spencer puts his two bags under the table and offers you your pancake mix and peas in their own bag. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“It was my boss.” You look at your fingers, spreading them slowly over the table top. “I’m a dancer. Sorry. I know you’re going to ask.” 

“And he hit you?” 

“Yeah.” 

Spencer knows the number for every women’s shelter in every state, but he doubts it would matter to you. He can tell already that you’d say no. He can tell you’re scared, even if you don’t realise it yourself. “Is it getting worse?”

You can’t offer him anything else. He understands how that feels. There have been moments where he desperately wanted to tell someone, anyone, what was going on in his life, but he always holds his secrets like a perpetual ache in his throat. It’s like he can’t tell someone, even if they ask. 

Sometimes he just wishes they’d ask twice. 

“You can tell me. It won’t sound stupid,” he promises. He’s in some odd place between Agent Reid and young, terrified Spencer, determined to help you, but not sure how. “It’s getting worse, right?” 

“Yeah,” you say, the weight of tears on your tongue. 

“You’re a dancer. Is he just a boss– Does he… abuse you financially?” 

You laugh wetly. “He’s not my pimp.” 

He can feel his face heating up.’“No, but do you get paid on time? Everything you earn?” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t get paid on time. He takes a percentage, and somehow there’s always another percentage, and then discipline. And now…” 

“Now he’s hitting you.” Very badly. 

“I’m not stupid.” 

Spencer frowns gently, talks softly, “I didn’t mean to imply that you were.” 

“No, I know, but I need you to know I’m not stupid. When we talked before, you– you’re so smart, I bet you know so many smart people.” 

He’s not sure where you’re going with this. Perhaps you don’t want to talk about being hurt anymore. It must be a kind of torture to be hurting and know that that hurting will come again. There isn’t an end in sight for you, just right now. 

“Can I buy you something to eat?” 

“I have money,” you say, taking your small purse from your pocket. There are a few notes wedged inside. 

“You can’t take painkillers on an empty stomach, and you should take painkillers again soon. You had some before you came, and they’re wearing off.” He meets your confused frown with a frown of his own. “Your hands are twitching like you want to move away from yourself.” 

“You’re very perceptive,” you say in that smooth murmur. Power clawed back, he thinks. You’re protecting one of the things you can control about how you’re seen when everything else is far from it. 

“I’m a profiler. Do you,” —he tries not to sound hoity toity— “know what that is?” 

“No.” 

“I’m an FBI agent.” You’re laughing as he takes out his badge. He joins you. “I know it sounds like I’m making it up.” Spencer offers you his identification passport slowly, so you know he isn’t wielding it around to be an asshole. “I’m in the behavioural analysis unit. We analyse the way people act. That’s why I know you’re in pain.” 

You take his badge, looking between his photo and his real face with a growing smile. “If you need all that to know I’m in pain, you’re not as smart as you think,” you tease, gesturing to the mottled skin of your bruise sweetly. 

Spencer buys you both cold sandwiches from the front of the shop and a drink to wash down your aspirin. It’s awkward, he guesses, but he’s used to that by now, and under it he can feel your palpable relief. You trust him to not hurt you, if nothing else, and he can work with that. 

[archangeldyke-all]

Oh my god... Werecat sevika rubbing against reader then unconsciously turning into human again and shes just on top of reader while her head is rubbing against readers chest WHILE PURRING?????🤭 I live for soft sevika.

CUTEEEEE

men and minors dni

most of the time, sevika only transforms for practical reasons.

when she needs to descend the steep walls of the undercity quickly, when she's jumping across rooftops and needs better balance, when she's freezing and would prefer having a body covered in fur...

but... when it comes to you, sevika's found that she's been transforming more and more.

there were the months of lazily snoozing on your fire escape and happily watching you through your window-- a few hours each week just... being a cat.

but once you figured her out and saved her life and the two of you became a couple (the word still gives her butterflies)... sevika's been transforming a lot more often.

she just loves your pets. she can't even help it half the time; you guys can be cuddling on the couch mid conversation, and you'll reach over to start scratching her scalp, and in the middle of her story about work she's transforming into a cat.

"so then silco went downstairs to-- purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr... meow."

you laugh and continue petting her, letting her crawl onto your chest and cuddle up into a loaf, making a mental note to ask her about her story later on in the evening when she's back to her human form.

sometimes, you can use your power for evil.

if sevika's being stubborn-- refusing to come to bed so she can get work done, or pouting because you made her take out the garbage-- you can just start scratching her scalp, and sooner or later she'll transform. then, all you have to do is grab her by the scruff on the back of her neck and drag her to bed with you.

she's figured this out, though, so she's always trying to run away from your outstretched hands. it often ends in a game of chase around the house, sevika cursing your magical fingers while you try to pin her to a wall or the floor for long enough to get her to relax.

and, funniest of all to you-- sevika gets jealous.

the fat tuxedo cat that comes to visit you once or twice a week has become sevika's biggest enemy.

she comes home to find you cuddling the chubby cat, and she's so unreasonably jealous that she gives you the silent treatment for the rest of the night. (she also instinctively transforms and starts hissing at the poor cat until he clambers back out of your window and sprints home.)

you find it fucking hilarious.

"sev, baby, it's a cat, it's not like i was fucking someone else!"

"you fucking might as well have been! those pets are mine!"

"baby, there's so much about me that's already yours. my heart. my tits. my pussy-- no pun intended. you can't seriously be jealous that i was petting a cat. honey-- it's a cat! you're a human!"

"whatever. you're sleeping on the couch tonight."

"sevika!" you laugh.

she doesn't make you sleep on the couch, though. she can't sleep without you underneath her anyways.

but sweetest of all is when sevika's being a sweet cat-- curled up in your lap and snoozing while you read, or purring as you scratch her head while you both watch a movie-- and she'll unconsciously shift back.

it's a little jarring the first time you've suddenly got a lapful of sleeping grown woman instead of sleeping kitty, but mostly, it's cute.

because sevika's still sleeping. and... as you push her hair behind her ears, she stretches just a bit, like a cat, and she starts to snore.

it's not her usual snore, it's a little more rumbly...

you have to smack a hand over your mouth to keep from bursting into laughter as your girlfriend purrs on top of you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @claude999 @nhaaauyen

[swordsandholly]

Across The Way

Ch. 2: And So It Begins

Retired!Ghoap x fem!plus size!Reader

MDNI

Ao3 | Previous - Next

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You go to Scotland with high hopes for your future. After all, you have the bakery you always dreamed of and a whole new life to live. Plus, the men who own the butcher’s shop across the street seem nice.

A/N: I got this out a lot faster than I thought I would. Hopefully my work doesn’t get too insane and I can get the next out in a timely manner - it’s going to be a bigger one!

“You were right.” Simon carefully cuts through the loaf with a serrated knife. He’s never lost his skill with them, despite their uses becoming increasingly more domestic over the years. It’s charming, in a way - the juxtaposition of where they started and where they are now.

“Right about whit?” Johnny asks.

“She is a pretty little thing.”

“Donnae tell me I need tae be worried about ye sneakin’ off at work.” He jokes. Simon would never, of course, but it’s fun to see the way his cheeks heat up at the implication. Without his mask he wears every expression with reckless abandon.

Simon settles his large frame into the seat across from Johnny at the dining table. It’s small, they don’t need much. The chairs always creak under Simon’s weight in an almost threatening fashion. He pushes a plate with two pieces of the bread and some eggs over to Johnny. There’s an odd tug in his chest when he picks up the slice - an urge to be gentle as he spreads butter over it. Gentility is not a compulsion he feels often.

“S’good.” Simon mutters around his bite.

Johnny nods along after taking one himself. There’s love in it - he can tell. A piece carefully crafted with only absolute perfection in mind. How strange that food can carry such a feeling.

“Was a wee bit worried we’d be stuck across from the nicest, worst baker in the world.” He mutters.

Simon huffs out a half laugh.

~~~

Your first week goes by in a blur. For a small town they sure do manage to keep you busy. It’s good, you remind yourself. Better than none. If you keep it up at this rate you’ll be able to hire help by the end of the summer quarter.

By Monday, the first day of your “weekend”, you’re overdone. Head dizzy and body exhausted, you spend the day in bed. It’s a gratifying exhaustion, one you hope to build more of a tolerance for. As of now, though, you elect to remain deeply buried under the covers.

When you wake for a second time the sun is already near setting again. The entirety of Monday slunk by with you in bed. You grumble to yourself angrily like an old man. You wanted to unpack today - to at least get your clothes and kitchen items put away.

“Stupid.” You grouse. At least you still have time to shower, you suppose.

As you stand the world blacks out for a moment, your body swaying in place. You allow yourself to fall back on the bed, sitting while your vision slowly comes back into focus. Blinking away black dots and off squiggles that dance across your eyes. On attempt number two you manage it, making your way to the bathroom.

The work is worth it. The pain is worth it.

This is what you always wanted, after all.

You are happy. You can feel it in your bones. They’re lighter than they used to be - your whole body thrums with excited energy even as you have to lower yourself with the upmost care into the shower seat. Even as you have to scrape one of the cheap fold out chairs you managed to get over to the stove while you cook a late night dinner. Thank god for low counters.

When you were arranging your schedule it took a while to get it perfected. To compensate for your body you have to have time to rest and be able to do a lot of baking preparation before the work week starts. Monday and Tuesday are for rest. Wednesdays are for prep. The shop is closed but you’re in the back working your ass off mixing and kneading and shaping doughs. As well as practicing new recipes you want to add to the store’s line up eventually. Your goal is to sell American biscuits, preferably in batches of six, but those take a lot of work and don’t keep as long. They’ll have to wait until you have hired help.

It’s all chance and whatever you can manage to make happen. You learned to be okay with that, though.

You’ve got plenty of spoons, you tell yourself. Just need to use them wisely.

When you finally close the fridge, now fully stocked with dough ready to proof and bake, you check the clock. It’s still the early afternoon. You finished sooner than you assumed you might. The thought makes you giddy - makes you feel accomplished.

It makes you feel normal.

As you exit into the warm spring sun you take a moment. Ever since you arrived you haven’t been able to just stop. To just take everything in - let the foreign air fill your lungs and the aura of the town sink into your bones.

It’s a lovely little main street that you’re located on. The building to your left is a large family owned pharmacy (very convenient for you) and to your right is an empty brick building. It looks like a former post office, but from what you know the current post office is a few blocks down beside the grocers. It’s quaint, the lot of it.

Your eyes settle on the shop across from yours housed in a simple brick building painted white. The upstairs is an apartment much like yours, you think, but from what you know it currently remains empty. The sign above the door reads A Cut Above the Rest. You wonder if that was Simon or Johnny’s doing.

Would it be weird to go in? You suppose not, after all they came to yours. It’s only fair you give them some patronage as well. Plus you need to ask how the bread was. Hopefully they liked it - you realized halfway through the night that you didn’t even ask if they like sourdough before shoving it into their hands.

That thought kept you up later than you’d like to admit.

You look both ways down the street. This particular spot doesn’t have a crosswalk but the road is so dead even when the downtown is busy you figure it’s worth risking. The lack of danger doesn’t stop you from fast-walking across, though.

The shop’s old-fashioned door bell chimes prettily as you push it open. For a butcher it smells extremely clean - almost clinical. It’s small, with an L shaped display counter and a register at the end nearest the door. Packages of sausage links and the like hang on displays across the back wall. Beside the wooden saloon doors that lead behind the counter is a little dog bed with a very well crafted name plate reading Riley hanging right above it.

So cute.

“Afternoon.” Simon appears from the back, wiping his hands on a rag. You jump a little, so lost in taking in your surroundings you forgot what you came here for.

“H-hi!” You smile. You forgot how intimidating Simon is. His gaze levels you - pins you underneath him like a fly under a swatter. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic. “I thought I’d come check your shop out and ask how the bread was?”

“It was good.” He replies bluntly. Totally monotone. The corners of his eyes crinkle ever so slightly. You decide that’s it’s a smile - whether that’s the reality of his expression or not.

“It’s really nice in here.” You look around. There isn’t much for decoration. The walls are too covered in menus and diagrams of cuts to leave room for anything extra. There’s a shelf of odds and ends opposite the main counter full of high end mustards and condiments. Little things to go with whatever you could think to make out of the varieties of meat they offer.

“Thanks.” Simon nods. “One moment.”

You watch with curiosity and a slight frown as he makes his way into the back. He almost has to duck under the doorway. Old buildings with low ceilings and all that. The place definitely wasn’t made with a six foot plus behemoth in mind. You continue to look around, rocking back and forth on your heels. They have a perfect score on their inspectors plaque. You might not know Simon well, but he seems the type to be absolutely precise about everything. The score doesn’t surprise you.

Yours is almost perfect - some rules are different here than in the US. Next time, you swear you’ll get it top notch! You look across the street at your shop. You wonder if you made the wrong choice with The Honey Bun. It’s bit much now that you see it from afar but it still makes you smile. That’s what matters, you guess.

Simon comes back out with a small, nicely wrapped package. “You don’t ‘ave any dietary restrictions d’you?”

You shake your head and he pushes the package toward you. Your eyes widen - it’s a great cut of high end beef. Like, really good beef as far as you know. Something you’d never be able to afford even if your business wasn’t brand new. You stare between Simon and the little pack in your hands. “Th-this is so nice but I-“

“It’s only fair.” He cuts you off. “Neighbors, yeah?”

You can’t help the grin that splits your face, eyes misting up despite yourself. Kindness has not been a constant in your life - more of a rarity. Something you had to claw and fight to earn. Being given it so freely but such a taciturn man has you reeling just a bit.

“Thank you… I’ve got to head back but, uh, thank you. Really.” You press the small package to your chest. “Tell Johnny I said hi?”

“Course.” He nods.

“Thanks again!” You grin, giving a little two finger salute before practically skipping all the way back into your dingy little apartment. Happily, you pack away the meat to use later. It’s too nice to just make any dish out of - best to save it for a special occasion. Your first gift in your new life. Best to savor it.

~~~

“Afternoon, bonnie.” Johnny appears in your doorway while you sweep up from the Saturday rush, bell chiming upon his entrance. “Hope I’m not a bother.”

“Not at all.” You smile, resting the broom on the counter. “Hello to you as well, Miss Riley.”

She huffs out a quiet bark in reply, sitting dutifully at Johnny’s feet. You don’t have much experience with service dogs - other than the well known rule not to pet them while they’re working. They were always too expensive for you to get and your condition wasn’t labeled serious enough to warrant financial aid. (Despite the fact that you can, and have, passed out and hit your head on something hard.)

“Can I get you something?” You ask.

“Och, I’m a’right. Just wanted tae stop by an’ say hello before headin’ home.” He gives you that dashing, bright grin. “Simon always kicks me out of the shop at close.”

“He doesn’t need help?” You ask. Surely cleaning up a butchers shop is a huge task. You have your work cut out for you with all the flower - you can’t imagine cleaning that amount of blood and mess.

Johnny shrugs. “The cleaning chemicals trigger my migraines.”

You hum. “Well, you’re always welcome to stop by. Actually,” you turn on your heel, “I’ve got somethin’ I’d like you to try, if you want.”

“Never one to say no to food. Especially from a pretty girl.” Johnny says as he follows. He tells Riley to stay in front and she listens - the perfect little lady that she is. You nearly trip at his comment, keeping your back turned so that he hopefully doesn’t see the heat spreading from your face and down your neck.

“I-it’s, uh, you ever had American biscuits?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the shake in your voice. You have to get on your tip toes to reach the small basket you made the day prior - carefully lowering it and pulling back the gingham cloth you wrapped them in.

An image of home.

“Aye, had them once on a layover at some chain diner.” He nods. “Donnae think they were fresh, though.”

“Well these are proper biscuits.” You carefully cut one in half with ease. “Sometime I’ll have to make you some gravy to go with.”

“Yer gonnae make us fat, hen.” Johnny chuckles.

“There are worse things to be.” The words come out more defensive than you would have liked. An automatic mechanism - a harshness you've honed over the years.

You hate how easily you wield it, sometimes.

Johnny leans forward over the table, a furrow in his brow. “I dinnae mean-“

“Here.” You cut him off and hold out the biscuit on a napkin, smothered with butter in the middle.

Johnny lets your interruption go. Probably happy for an out. He takes the fluffy baked good slowly, cupping it in his large hand with care. You wonder if he always does that, touches things with such gentle love. Is it learned? Is it just natural to him? Does he touch Simon like that? Gentle caresses?

What’s that like?

Johnny takes a massive, enthusiastic bite. Somehow his blue eyes manage to sparkle even more, grinning as he chews. “Sh’gew!”

You laugh at his attempt to talk around the food. “Glad you like it.”

He swallows roughly. A full body gulp. “Why’d ye start bakin’ anyway?”

“My grandparents raised me.” You fold the biscuits back up in their little basket. “My grandma taught me how. She was the best in town - won the pie contest almost every year.”

“Tha’s lovely.” The smile he gives you is so genuine it makes your chest constrict.

“Mean old bat but she could beat anyone in the kitchen.” You laugh. “We swore she had some kinda magic. Like a green thumb but for cooking.”

“My mum’s like tha’. Can make anythin’ out of nothin’.” He nods along.

You fall into an easy back and forth - never breaching anything deeper than the most surface level of content as he eats. It’s manageable. Johnny doesn’t push and neither do you.

Riley barks from the front of the shop.

“Och, tha’s my queue.” Johnny brushes off his hands and checks the front of his shirt for crumbs. “Take care, aye?”

You smile. “You too.”

~~~

Johnny’s words keep ringing in your ears. You don’t know why. It’s nothing special. There’s no reason to attach to them. You raise a hand to wipe off the fog and stare in the small mirror hung above your bathroom sink.

Pretty girl.

You scoff. You’re not a pretty girl. You’ve never been a pretty girl. Fat girl. Stupid girl. Sick girl. Tired girl. Sad girl.

That last one you’ve heard more than anything else. Out of all the descriptors of you it stands out as the most used. By everyone from teachers to your own family. Always just a sad, sad girl.

You got it from your mom, they’d say. It’s not like you would ever know.

You rip your eyes away from the mirror and try to let the thoughts melt away as you sink into the comfort of your blankets. Those thoughts live back on the other side of the Atlantic. They don’t get to follow you here.

[satorusugurugurl]

Tangled Up With You

Summary: You’re the personal guard of the prince of the kingdom. So to protect him and his magical healing hair. but he’s also charged you with keeping his bed warm as well.

Pairing: Prince!Geto Suguru x Guard!AFAB!Reader

Warning: Fantasy AU! Long hair Suguru, magic hair that glows, fluff, sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Kinktober day Nineteen: Tangled!AU! Tangled is like one of my favorite movies! So of course I had a major blast writing this! Also I need Pascal!Gojo 😩💚

You were panting as you ran, looking over your shoulder; you made sure no one was following you. Your leather and light armor made it nearly impossible to stay silent, but you hoped you were far enough that he wouldn't hear you. Your pulse raced as you darted down an empty corridor through the kitchens. Once in the darkness, you slammed yourself against the darkest part of the wall. You were inhaling and exhaling through your nose as you covered your mouth, attempting to silence your breathing as voices echoed off in the distance.

“You can't run forever!” Captain Nanami barked out, making you sink further down. “You might as well come out now! Face my anger now!”

“Damn, she’s fast!” Haibara chimed in, and the clincking armor sounded like a ticking time bomb to you. “But don't you think making her do combat training is a bit harsh just for—”

“Do you want to join her?” Silence. “That’s what I thought. Now help me find her!”

Why were you so stupid!? Of course, Nanami just happened to catch you slacking off and eating his sweet bread! The autumn breeze had been so nice, and the sweet smell of bread was so tempting! And for once in your entire time of being a guard within the castle walls, you decided to give yourself a break. A break that included you taking off your palace cloak, laying down underneath one of the autumn trees, and snacking on Nanami’s favorite bread. A friend you didn’t realize was the last loaf of the day, and he has been saving it for when he got outside of his shift.

It didn’t help that your fellow guards knew this fact and refused to tell you about it. They were always tired of being on their commander's radar and decided that it was your turn! A turn you didn’t even want to partake in!

But here you were, hiding in the darkest corridor on the palace grounds from your commanding officer, who wanted to give you hand-to-hand combat training with him. A lesson thought you would do practically anything to avoid getting out of. All you needed to do was avoid him for the rest of the day. If you managed to do that and get back to the barracks, you could get up early tomorrow morning and call him at two loaves of his favorite bread to make up for your mistake.

That is if you manage to get through the rest of the day without getting caught.

The clinking armor grew louder, and you felt your heart rate spike with each step. Your life was starting to flash before your eyes as you listened to Nanami approaching closer and closer. There was nothing you could do aside from praying to the gods and goddesses to show you mercy!

“Hi, Nanami.” A familiar cheerful voice rang from above you. “What are you doing?” You glanced up, finding Prince Geto Suguru leaning outside the window of his tower.

The clanking of armor came to an abrupt stop. “Oh, good evening, your highness! I’m looking for my second in command! You haven’t seen her, have you?” The prince hummed, and you tilted your head up, praying he wouldn’t see you. Much to your horror, pretty lilac-hued eyes met your gaze as he smiled, his dark bands flowing in the cool breeze. You acted quickly, shaking your head back and forth in a silent plea for him not to tell Nanami.

With a dramatic eye roll, your prince pointed the opposite way. “Her favorite flowers are blooming soon. I bet she’s in the gardens. I would have joined her, but I’m still brushing my hair.” You thought that maybe, just maybe, Nanami wouldn’t have listened and continued down his path hunting you.

“Ah! Thank you, your highness!”

You blinked, watching as bother Nanami and Haibara headed off to the garden on the other side of the castle. You waited there for an eternity before a sigh of relief finally passed through your lips. Winning a whole-hearted laugh from the man above you.

“Oh my gods! That was a close one!”

“What did you do to invoke the wrath of the Nanami Kento?”

Long, black, silky hair was thrown out the window, swaying in front of you. This was a drill the two of you had. “I didn’t mean to piss off!” You wrapped your hand around his hair as he began climbing, pressing your feet against the wall of the tower. “Honest to the gods, his bread was just sitting there in the office, and I didn’t think you would mind sharing!” you grunted as you hoisted yourself up on the windowsill, scooting in until you could hop into his room.

“Okay, and you know, Nanami. Bread to him is one of his only joys in life.” Suguru laughed, returning to his bed, where he picked up a brush and ran it through his magical hair.

“Maybe I was just being optimistic.” Without another word, you took the brush away from your prince and began brushing it for him.

Suguru hummed softly, shutting his eyes as you gently worked through his hair, all seventy feet of it. Both of you enjoyed quiet moments like this. Where he whisked away to the court to help with an ill villager or paraded like a peacock for princesses, and you weren’t stuck escorting him when both of you would rather be with each other. Suguru was blessed with magic hair that could heal injuries, illnesses, and many other ailments people may have. Because of this, people were always trying to cut his hair off, not knowing that by doing so, his hair would lose all magical attributes.

That’s why you and the rest of your squads are in charge of keeping him safe.

But being his guard has led you to get to know each other more personally, and your relationship became less of a protector and more of a partner. Suguru wanted to be with you, but you both decided it would be best to keep it a secret for now. He would toss his hair out the window, and you would climb it to ensure no one saw you sneaking into his bed chambers.

You could hear the gossip that would arise from this if anyone found out about your relationship. People would say that you were just some lonely guard, deflowering their prince, making him unworthy and unfit for marriage, which wasn’t at all what you were doing. You had fallen for the prince you were sworn to protect. He was handsome, kind, and intelligent. It would’ve been practically impossible for you not to develop these kinds of feelings for him. You would hate for anyone to get the wrong idea that you were just out for his body, to bed him and leave. That wasn’t the case at all!

It all happened, which was a bonus for falling in love with him.

Typically, you tried your damnedest to keep your mind yourself along with your hands. But as he let out a breath as you began, twisting the long hair into a braid, your mind began to wander elsewhere. You could see his broad shoulders and muscles strained with his tunic. He didn’t have to do anything, and you wanted him so badly.

It was something he could see in your face as he glanced at you from the mirror. “Princess?” He purred, tilting his head as you fastened the braid with a hair tie on your wrist. “You keep undressing me with your eyes. If you want something, you should just outwardly say it.” He smirked, watching as you sputtered and flushed as you looked towards the ceiling, trying to find an excuse as to why you were practically eye fucking him when he hadn’t done anything.

“I wasn’t undressing you!” The look on his face, combined with how he slowly turned his head to look back at you and his expression, told you he did not believe you. “Okay, maybe I was.”

He grabs your wrist, pulling you to lie on the bed with him. “Does my favorite guard want me?” You watched as he hovered about you, long fingers unfastening the belts that held your armor in place.

“I do—but what about your friend?”

“My friend?” Your armor is swiftly removed and placed on the ground beside his bed. He slides his hands up your shirt, tugging that off next. “I can assure you, my cock is eager to see your pretty pussy again.”

Anyone that would look at the Prince would not assume he used that kind of language, but in reality, he was just a horny, filthy-mouthed man. This only deepened the attraction you had for him. You off on it when he talks to you like this.

“As much as I want that to happen,” you purr, running your hands down his chest. “I’m talking about your other friend.”

“Satoru?” As you referred to his pet chameleon, he chimed in amusement, thickening his voice. “Shoko took him in for a check-up.” More clothing was discarded and tossed around the room as the braid you had done on his hair fell over one of his shoulders. “Besides, he hogs up all your time and is here with me.” You grinned at the thought of the white chameleon with a bright, so cerulean. “So call me selfish, but I want you all to myself.”

“Well, luckily for you, I want you to. I need to repay you for saving my life.”

The rest of your clothes are thrown off until you’re both completely naked. Suguru pushes himself between your legs, his hands resting on either side of your head as he kisses you gently. “You do, which is sort of funny because aren’t you the one supposed to be protecting me?”

“I like switching things up sometimes, Sugu.”

“That's one of the many reasons I’m falling for you.”

Before you can linger too long on his words, Suguru leans forward, kissing you softly. His hands moved to rest on your hips. The head of his cock gently began pushing the tip of his cock past your slickened folds and inside of you. Your lips parted slightly as you inhaled sharply, feeling him stretch you open with his thick member. Suguru pressed his forehead against yours as he continued to slide himself inside of you. The two of you panted lips inches from one another as Suguru slowly began rolling his hips.

“Suguru,” you whined, tilting your head back, allowing him to trail kisses and nibbles along your sensitive, heated flesh. That feels so good.” He chuckled against your skin, pulling away to look into your eyes.

“Yeah, it always feels good.” He moaned out with a charming smile before thrusting deeper inside you, “I’m going to make you feel so good that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. That was how I could selfishly keep you all to myself.”

The thought of spending the day with him, without your titles, had you clamping down, causing him to groan in pleasure, “That sounds magical; I wa-holy fuck!” Suguru silenced you by slamming into you fast and hard, cutting off the rest of your words.

“I’d make you mine in every sense. But that’s going to have to wait for a bit. “Because as much as I love hearing you talk, I want to hear your moan instead.,” he growled softly into your ear,

“Well, what are you waiting for then? Make me moan.” You leaned up, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and nibbling on it.

The two of you moved together, finding a rhythm that felt best for both of you. A position where your legs were wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his ass, desperately trying to pull him deeper inside of you. His hands massaged your breasts, twisting your right nipple between his thumb and index finger as he took your left nipple in his mouth until it stood at attention for him. All the while, his cock plunged in and out of your pussy, causing you to gasp out his name.

Suguru’s fingers tangled in your hair as he slammed his lips on yours. Kissing you as hips picked up, moving at a faster pace, “Princess, fuck gods-” he nipped at your bottom lip, “I want you so much.” he pulled away, looking down at you, pausing his thrusts to stare down at you. You just stared at him, chest rapidly heaving with lust; the two of you were covered in a thin layer of sweat sheen off two of you in the dying light of the sunset. “You’re so beautiful,” his thumbs massaged the dips of your hips. You are the only Princess I want.” His thrusts became deeper as he stared into your eyes. “Because I love you.” Your heart nearly stopped as your cheeks burned even as you looked at Suguru in shock. He didn't need to say more or explain himself; he kept going, spilling out the truth. “Princess, I’m so in love with you.”

“Suguru,” your heart raced as you stared into his violet eyes. “I-I—” You reached up, stroking his cheek. “I’m in love with you too. I don't care if we come from different nobility. All I care about is loving you.”

“Princess,” the prince moved to pull you up to sit in his lap so he could kiss you eagerly. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.” He kissed your cheeks as he thrust up inside of you lazily. I knew I would be in good hands from the moment I first saw you.”

“Haaah,” you exhaled as you rocked against him, “I took my bow seriously, but I, fuck, first saw you smile. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to control myself.”

“All I think about is you. From the start of my day, you’re the first thing on my mind. And you’re the last thing on my mind when I sleep at night.” The dark-haired man grabbed your hips, making you rock faster.

“Nnngh! Sugu!” You cried out as his cock brushed right against your g-spot, causing a familiar tightening in your abdomen, “I’m getting close.” you whispered against his lips.

Dark strands of his hair clung to his forehead as he nodded, feeling that same ache in his belly, “I can feel you squeezing down on me,” He furrowed his eyebrows together before biting down on his lip as he slammed you back down on to the bed, “I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

The handsome and seemingly sweet prince lifted your legs over his shoulders and fucked into you. Your breath caught in your throat as you gripped his forearms, leaving a crescent moon indent in his skin. He winced at the slight pain, but his paste didn’t falter. The head of his cock continued brushing against your g-spot with each thrust before pushing further to kiss your cervix. Your entire body felt like it was on fire as your toes curled and your back arched as he pushed you closer to the end of your orgasm. Sensing you close, Suguru’s left hand that was gripping your hip trailed down your lower stomach, pushing down on it gently while his thumb brushed over your clit, sending you over the edge.

“I’m cumming! Sugu fuck!” You screamed back, arching off the mattress as you came all over his cock, moaning like a mistress of the night, “Yes, right there!” You thrashed your head side to side as Suguru thrust faster inside of you, chasing his orgasm.

“Princess, I’m gon-gonna cum!” He growled, thrusting as deep as he could before spilling himself inside of you, “Princess!” Suguri growled, burying his face in the crook of your neck and biting down on it as he continued to thrust, milking his cock inside of you.

Both of your bodies trembled against each other as you came down from orgasmic bliss. He took deep breaths as he trailed kisses along your neck and shoulder. Your legs continued to shake as he wrapped his arms around you, brushing your hair back out of your face.

“You know I meant it, right?”

“Huh?”

“AI meant every word.” Suguru lies down on his back, pulling you close to his side.“I don’t want to meet any other princesses or be introduced to other nobility. Because I just want you. And I will make a point to tell that to my father tomorrow. You are the woman I want to spend my life with.”

You swear to the gods above that you could start crying at his sweet words. “I know.” And you did know he was telling me the whole truth that he didn’t want to be with anyone else but you. But for him to reiterate those words when your minds were clear meant the entire world to you. “I don't think he’ll be happy about that thought.” Suguru scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“He can kiss my ass for all I care.” His pretty violet eyes narrowed, and he softly smiled. “You are going to be the person I marry.”

“I want to marry you too.” You hummed, trying to set up to stay alert, your training kicking in. Because not only was he the prince, but he was also the man he had fallen in love with. Suguru, of course, felt your muscles tightening.

“It’s okay. For once, you relax. I’ll protect you tonight.” At his words, your body began to relax. “There you go, get some sleep.”His lips brushed over your forehead. “I’ll protect you from this night until I draw my final breath.” Suguru hummed as your head was on his chest. You hummed as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you close to his body. The two of you fell asleep soundly and safely inside each other's arms.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

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[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨

　　　　　　　　　𝒑𝒂𝒖𝒍 𝒍𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒆 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Paul finally gets the courage to say "I love you" for the first time.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, on Wattpad.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N's eyes slowly opened as she tried to adapt to the brightness of the space, rays of the morning sun completely entered through the window covered only by a thin curtain, keeping the room warm and comfortable.

The girl turned her head as she stretched lazily, a smile stretching across her cheeks as her eyes stopped on the face of her boyfriend, Paul, who was lying on his back, eyes closed and small snores coming from his half-open mouth.

Y/N shifted her body to the right, facing Paul while her head rested on his bicep, which served as her pillow every night she slept at his house.

Her eyes traveled over his face, which carried a relaxed expression. His long eyelashes rested on his tan cheeks, and his nose moved slightly from time to time, showing that his mind was immersed in some dream. Y/N felt like she could stay there all day, her left hand drawing small shapes on her boyfriend's bare chest.

After a few minutes of admiring him, the girl felt her hunger speak louder, sitting up slowly so as not to wake Paul, smiling in relief at not seeing him move even an inch, showing that he felt extremely calm and safe in her presence.

Y/N slowly got up from the bed, casting one last glance at Paul before starting her steps out of the room and towards the kitchen, her hands using the black hair tie on her wrist to tie her hair into a high ponytail.

The girl entered the kitchen, a yawn escaping her lips. She walked over to the small radio on the counter and played it, leaving it on the station she always listened to with Paul, turning down the volume a little so as not to disturb her boyfriend's sleep.

Y/N walked to the fridge and opened the door, vaguely observing the items inside, deciding to make a creamy scrambled egg with buttered bread and a fruit salad with yogurt, knowing that Paul felt hungrier than normal and a simple loaf of bread wouldn't sustain his stomach for more than 30 minutes.

She took what she was going to use, placing it on the sink and doing the same with the cabinet, organizing separately what she would use for each dish and starting to prepare breakfast.

With the bread already in the toaster and the water already heating for black coffee, the girl took a ceramic bowl and broke five eggs there, stirring them with a fork.

Sounds of footsteps echoed through the hallway between the bedroom and the kitchen, but it was imperceptible to Y/N, who was too focused on her action and the music coming from the radio.

Paul leaned his body against the threshold of the kitchen door, crossing his arms as his eyes admired his imprint preparing coffee for both of them while softly following the melody on the radio, a smile stretching across his cheeks at the scene so homely, free from weight and worry from all the chaos that has surrounded the supernatural beings of Forks over the last few months.

The opening whistle of the song "Home" by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros sounded through the room, catching Paul's attention. That song was considered one of the main songs of their relationship, as it played during the first bonfire that Y/N attended as Paul's companion. The memory of the two of them dancing together late at night, bare feet on the sand, surrounded by people they loved and lots of food was engraved in their minds.

The boy walked away from the door, going towards Y/N, who swayed her hips to the beat of the music as she passed the eggs to the frying pan on the stove.

Warm, strong arms surrounded the girl's waist, causing her to jump in place in fright, her right hand flying to Paul's arms while her left went to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart.

"You scared me!" Y/N said loudly, slapping weakly her boyfriend's arms, taking the spatula from the sink and stirring the eggs in the pan before it burns.

"Sorry, my love. Good morning." Paul responded in a whisper, resting his head in the crook of his girlfriend's neck, breathing in the natural scent of her skin and the body cream she had applied the night before after her shower. "Remember this song?"

"How can I forget? It's our song, it marked the beginning of our relationship." Y/N responded in a low voice, not wanting to burst the bubble that seemed to settle around them.

"Yes, I will never forget you dancing in that beautiful white dress that night, the bonfire behind you, and the smell of food in the air. Remembering that memory makes me love you even more." Paul commented with a goofy smile on his face, closing his eyes briefly, seeming to see the scene in front of him again.

Y/N's right arm, which was previously moving the spatula against the eggs, suddenly stopped, catching the boy's attention, who raised his face and moved so that he was next to his girlfriend, watching her with confused eyes.

"You love me?" She asked in a whisper, turning off the heat and dropping the spatula into the frying pan, turning around and facing him.

Paul replayed in his mind what he had said seconds ago, the understanding that he had said that he loved her flashed across his eyes, a nervous smile expanding on his face as his heart accelerated, fear settling in his chest.

"Yes, I love you." He revealed, knowing that was no coming back, looking at her closely, observing her reaction closely.

His heart warmed at the sight of his girl's eyes shining with tears as her mouth opened slightly in surprise, Y/N's right hand going to her own chest in disbelief.

"Oh Paul, I love you so much." She reciprocated, a tear escaping her eyes as she walked closer to her boyfriend, laying her head against his warm chest, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Paul sighed in relief, his eyes also filling with tears as he pulled Y/N closer, hugging her tightly.

"I've loved you since before I understood what that kind of love meant. The first time I saw you, I gave myself completely. When we kissed for the first time after you accepted me as yours, I became an addict and I knew that no one else could make me feel such an electric spark. Y/N, the moment I looked into your eyes for the first time, I knew I would follow you to the end of the world if necessary. And I don't say that because you're my imprint, my love for you goes far beyond that." Paul declared, pulling away slightly so he could look into his girlfriend's eyes, a huge smile decorating his features.

"Paul, it's not fair of you to make me cry at a time like this." Y/N muttered, her voice cracking with emotions. Paul brought his large hands to her face, wiping away the tears that wetted her flushed face. "I love you so much, I promise I'll be yours for the rest of our lives." She whispered, her heart overflowing with love, passion, and affection.

The boy bent down slightly, sealing his lips on hers in a slow kiss, full of the best feelings. A sigh escaped Y/N in pleasure, surrendering to the kiss and Paul's arms.

The sound of the wolf's stomach begging for food interrupted them. Y/N let out a laugh against Paul's lips, opening her eyes slowly and walking away, smiling big and turning to the stove again, going back to finishing breakfast for both of them.

Paul's arms remained around his girlfriend's body seeking contact and comfort, his heart warm, as their bodies moved slightly to the melody of the songs that sounded from the radio.

They felt like they could stay there forever, surrounded by the best feeling, love.

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 6: Harvest Season

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering.Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 5083 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

The cold morning tickled your toes protruding from the blankets that barely covered your body. You curled into a ball as you slept with your five sisters while the sun peeked through the hills of the green valley. They were squashed together like sardines to make the most of the small bed's cramped space. The room in the cabin where they lived was practically empty, they only had a small closet with all their clothes, some stuffed animals for decoration and a semi-transparent white cloth that served as a curtain. You were in your fifth dream when you felt a hand pulling your foot. You snapped your eyes open to see your mother at the end of the bed. 

“Let’s go to the market,” she asked you as you whittled your eyes wide awake. 

You nodded in response so as not to wake your sisters. You carefully slipped out of bed to get dressed in a brown dress, you wore it so much that it already had holes in the skirt. Your mother had sold most of your fancy dresses, so your sisters could buy new ones for the dances they were invited to. Your mother was always obsessed with the idea that one of her daughters would marry a rich man and take them all out of the misery in which they lived. Every morning she used to repeat the same thing: “Up my future princesses because men don't flirt themselves.” You quietly left the room and picked up the old worn-out basket they used to carry the loaf of bread and potatoes they could afford to buy. 

Since your father died a couple of years ago, money was always tight. Your mother, to keep her hopes up and not starve to death, had slowly sold all the furniture in the house. She started with the living room, then the dining room, then her bed and then the decorations. Little by little, they were running out of options. Someone had to sacrifice in the work field, and your mother would not be one of them. 

The sun was barely rising over the green horizon. It was too early to go to the human market, but you just followed your mother without question. The grass crunched under your worn boots and the cool air ruffled your hair. As you walked along the path you had created from the many times you had gone to town, your mother was quieter than usual. She was a hard woman to keep quiet, always having to have an opinion on something. “The mornings are horrible,” “it hasn't rained in months,” “everything is more expensive.” She always prattled on about any topic that crossed her mind, but today she was different. She just looked straight ahead, walked hurriedly and hadn't even wished you good morning. “Maybe she wants some peace,” you thought. You should have realized it at the time. 

You knew you reached the main town when the smell of fish intensified. Every morning, fishermen set out to sell their booty among the busy main streets of the Sukuna kingdom. A place full of humans who were ruled by curses. Since King Sukuna had conquered their lands along with his army more than five hundred years ago, the humans who had already lived there for centuries became easy prey for the hideous deformed monsters. Half of the population was eaten, while the other was left alone as soon as their stomachs were full. The only thing that stopped them from eating more was their own limits. From then on, the curses began to coexist with the humans. Only instead of treating them as equals, it was a cow-butcher relationship. 

Since the curses owned the main town, it was rare to see so many humans walking down the street. They were all heading in the same direction, the gloomy castle of King Sukuna. A striking architectural structure of charcoal color and huge windows with blood-red roses. It was so large that despite being surrounded by towering walls, you could still admire the rest of the castle and its imposing watchtowers. Your astonished gaze kept going up to admire the terrible place. Your eyes could not continue because the top of its towers were hidden among the gray clouds and the vultures flying overhead. 

Unfortunately, they had not arrived at the market but at the gigantic wooden bridge that led into the castle. Several curses in fine armor paraded around the perimeter as you watched two of them lead a lady into the castle. Your breath hitched as you realized what day it was. Today was harvest day. Once a year, King Sukuna asks those who want to work for him to report to the castle and in return their families would be rewarded financially, but everyone knows it's a trap. No one knows exactly what goes on inside the castle, but a tyrant who mistreats his people does not usually offer “work.” All the people know that once you enter his castle, you don't get out. Even though it is known that entering his castle was like entering a torture machine of your own free will. People in need of money or resources send older relatives or children they can't support to get rid of them. 

You dropped the basket in shock at why your mother had only woken you up so early and was so quiet. She was about to sell you. As soon as the basket creaked against the floor, you ran away to avoid your painful fate as the daughter who was betrayed by her mother. You didn't manage to run that far, because two curses pinned you to the ground. You screamed, kicked and twisted your body in failed attempts to escape. Your eyes filled with tears as soon as the curses lifted you off the ground to drag you back to the castle. It was the end, you knew that for a fact. 

“We must part ways, my adorable daughter,” your mother said goodbye without looking you in the eye. 

“Are you really going to sell me to the tyrant? You know what happens to those who enter!” You yelled while tears fell desperately down your cheeks. 

“Don't be like that, you know we need money. The king may be a tyrant, but sometimes he is generous,” she said as he showed you the sack of gold coins the curses give her for you. 

100 gold coins. That was all you were worth. All your years of life equaled a year's worth of food. Not even luxuries, expensive furniture or beautiful clothes. Your mother had traded you to eat one more year without worry. You hang your head in defeat. She was treating you as if you were a nuisance. One more pitiful mouth to feed. 

“I can work at the market, at sea, in mining, in anything!” You protested. 

“How are you going to work there? I educated you as a young lady so you could marry a rich man, and you failed me,” she emphasized, spitting in your face the disappointment she felt. 

Your chest ached, snot was building up in your nose and your eyes were beginning to redden from the hot tears coming from your sad heart. Your head was starting to hurt, you couldn't believe this was happening to you. You were always a good daughter. You were the perfect daughter, polite and compliant. What have you done wrong? The frustration of not being able to do anything was eating you alive.  

“Think of your sisters. With this money, they will be able to buy new dresses to impress rich men. Next week there is going to be a ball, they say King Gojo will be there,” your mother said excitedly. 

“Say goodbye to your mother, we must get you to the castle.” A curse ordered you with a harsh voice. 

“I don't have a mother anymore,” you mumbled between sobs. 

“My sweet daughter, don't be like that…” your mother called you with disappointment. 

“And you no longer have a daughter,” your mother gasped, surprised at the minimum act of rebellion. 

From the time you were a little girl, your parents knew you would be a good girl. You always did everything orderly, knew what to say to stay out of trouble and educated your sisters when they were wrong. You were the perfect daughter in their eyes. The only thing you weren't good at was talking to men. At dances none of them would come up to you and none of them would catch your eye. While the sister next in age to you, Yorozu, danced with almost everyone, you always stood on the sidelines as you watched the night unfold. Your mother always scolded you on the way home for not being good enough to get a husband, but that never mattered to you. You knew inside that someday you would marry a good man who could see your true potential. 

Curses threw you into the parade ground and closed the gate behind you. You felt worse than dirt itself, you wanted to lie on the ground where you belonged. You wished the earth would swallow you up and disappear at that instant, anyway, you had nothing left to fight for. You didn't even have the strength to cry anymore. 

A loud sobbing sound reached your ears, causing you to look up. A little blond boy was crying his eyes out as he desperately searched for his mother. You were in the same situation as him, only you didn't have a little teddy bear to cheer you up. In a place full of old people, no one wanted to pay attention to you. No one had enough energy to soothe the crying of a frightened child. 

You stood up and dusted off your dress. Quietly, you approached the child with a red face from crying. He was dressed in a torn white shirt and dirty overalls. He couldn't have been more than 10 years old. You got down on your knees to stand by his height and wiped away his tears with your thumbs before shaking off his clothes.

“I want my mommy,” the boy shouted as he sniffled. A lump rose in your throat. You wanted the one you used to have too. 

“She'll be back. You just have to be a good boy, alright?” You asked with a weak smile. The boy nodded as he rubbed his watery eyes. “Whatever you do, just behave well and she will come back.”

 “Do you promise me?” he asked you between sobs, raising his little pinky towards you. 

“Of course,” you answered, intertwining his little finger with yours. 

An old woman approached you both. A granny with a cotton head, raisin skin and a sketchy smile, handed him a piece of candy she had in the pocket of her once-white apron. The boy gladly accepted it, forgetting for a second why he was crying in the first place. Children were always easy to please. 

“Poor little boy. He hasn't even started his life, and he's already this lucky,” the old woman whispered to you as you watched him eat the candy and play with his teddy bear perched on the grass. You could only nod in sorrow.

After an hour of waiting and watching the curses hurl more sold humans onto the parade ground. The doors of the gigantic castle opened. A white-haired person with a red stripe and splendid white robes made an appearance along with a scroll under their arm. You stepped in front of the boy to hide him behind you. 

“Welcome to this year's harvest. Thanks to your relatives or communities, you have been chosen as the most useless beings of this year. So the great king Sukuna has decided to give you the opportunity to work for him as servants,” The person began to read the scroll aloud in front of everyone. 

A collective sigh was heard when he read the word “useless”. Most of them, being elderly, already knew that they were only a burden to their families. Therefore, there was no need to stress it further. It was like squeezing lemon on an open wound. 

“As every year, we give those who are completely useless a chance to leave. King Sukuna needs real servants and not stupid dogs.” Along with that announcement, the castle gates opened.

There it was, the door that would lead them to freedom right under their noses. Hearing that, most of them ran towards their escape route, desperate to return home to their loved ones. You took the child in your arms and were about to run away until the thought that the offer was too good to be true settled in your mind. “Those who go in, never come back” you thought. 

“Come on, dear, let's go,” the kind old woman asked you while she pulled you by the arm to escape quickly. 

“If they do this every year, why doesn't anyone come back home?” You asked her. “It's a trap, I can feel it.” The old woman looked at you puzzled at first, but understood your point after processing it for a couple of seconds. She was so blinded by the brilliant exit that she hadn't boasted about it. 

Once the first to escape was about to reach the door, the grille slammed shut. The evil laughter of hundreds of curses echoed through the place like a war chant. In less than a second, a gigantic flock of armored curses began to eat all those who were about to flee. A massacre, desperate screams and blood spraying everywhere. You had never seen anything like it in your life. You knew the curses were evil and ate humans, but you never thought it would be such a disastrous sight. You covered the child’s eyes. The lady covered her face as she realized the hell they had been sent to. 

“Traitor dogs do not deserve to live,” the white-haired person said as soon as no human who had tried to escape was left alive. 

“You were right…” the old woman whispered next to you between silent sobs. 

You looked back at the front of the castle while your eyes were still drowning in tears. The person who was summoning you was glaring at you, as if offended by your mere presence. You looked around, less than half had stayed. The other elders were crying, vomiting and some lucky ones hadn't even turned around to see what was happening. Your arms were shaking from the cold of the morning and the terror that consumed you whole. You squeezed the child against your body to protect it. A little creature was not to blame for being in a place like that. You had to protect him, it was the only way he would have a chance to survive. 

“I congratulate you for surviving the first round. My name is Uraume, and I am the right hand of your king, Sukuna Ryomen,” they introduced themselves in a loud, monotone voice so that we could all hear them. “Next you will introduce yourselves to the king. He will have the final word as to your fate,” they explained before returning to the castle. 

After finishing their feast, the other curses rounded up the survivors to form a line in front of the castle gates. They were sheep being led by shepherds who were also wolves. No one said a word, they only obeyed by bodily proximity to where they were supposed to be. You did not let go of the child at any time, you had already proclaimed yourself as his guardian. Maybe it wasn't the best idea in hell, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You were willing to protect him as if he were one of your little sisters. 

Your beloved little sisters. You hid your face in the little boy's hair so no one would see you cry. Once you entered the castle, you would never leave, either by slavery or death. You would never see your lovely sisters again. You would never see them play, comb each other's hair or sing happily after dinner. You cursed the time when you had grown up and were not woman enough not to marry someone. In your mother's eyes you were a disappointment and were to be discarded. You only prayed internally that your sisters would not have the same fate. Yorozu was only a year younger than you. If she did not marry soon, she too would be sold. 

The survivors passed 5 at a time into the castle. The walls were so thick that they could not hear what was happening on the other side. There were 5 more people left, and it was your turn to pass next to the old woman, who was repeating the same silent prayer several times. The curse at the front of the line signaled the 5 people to pass, making everyone move in sync. 

“The child must enter,” the curse ordered you. 

“But they already let 5 in. It's his turn to go in when I go in,” you defended, holding the little boy tightly. 

The curse smiled maliciously before snatching the child from your hands. The difference in strength was crazy. You managed to grab the child by his white shirt to prevent him from being stolen. The child began to cry out loud because the curse had hooked its claws into his back. The curse pulled harder on the boy, leaving you with only the torn piece of cloth in your hand. As you tried to reach him again, the curse kicked you in the stomach so that you fell to the ground. Your body fell, and your eyes could only watch as the boy was mercilessly thrown along with the others. 

“Just do what they ask you to do!” You shouted at the boy between sobs before another curse kicked you in the face to shut you up. 

The last thing you could see was his face full of tears and snot as you bled from your nose incessantly. The castle doors slammed shut as the curses taunted you. You didn't care what they had to say, you just wanted the child to be okay. The woman you had befriended helped you up as your chest closed, and your eyes hurt from crying. You couldn’t do it anymore. 

After about 10 minutes, the doors opened again. The curse kicked you in the back to get you inside. The old woman and three other old men followed close behind. A servant with a grim face welcomed you and led you into the king's hall. A room filled with luxuries along the walls, costly works, candles bathed in gold foil and glowing obsidian candelabras. It was a pity that the beautiful room was bathed in the dark blood of your kind. The walls were splattered, some candles had been extinguished because of it, and there were several dismembered bodies all over the room. 

Despite being surrounded by light sources, the deepest part of the room was in complete darkness. Where you assumed the throne was supposed to be, there were many curtains that kept the king in the shadows. The only thing you could see was one of his giant feet being struck by the light of a nearby candle. 

The servant asked them to stand in a side row so that the king could get a good view of them all. Once they obeyed, the servant retreated at a brisk pace. Everyone was silent. You could only hear their breaths being disturbed by the situation they were in. Your eyes traveled around the room. The bodies of the discarded individuals were cut into hundreds of cubes, making your blood run cold. It was an extremely perfect job, almost impossible to do. Had the king done that or was someone else in the room with them? You didn't want to see, but it was like a morbid exhibition of what an abominable being could do.

Your eyes roamed around the room in curiosity and terror, until they saw a teddy bear soaked in blood. The teddy bear of the child you swore you would protect. The child's head had been cut off, his eyes had popped out of his skull and were held in place by its corneas, and the rest of his body was completely mutilated into perfect rectangles of flesh. You closed your eyes and clenched your skirt to keep from screaming in despair. The frustration and disappointment in you could not be compared to anything else. You could do nothing to save him. You were pathetic. 

“5… 4…” The king started the countdown. For what? You had no idea. 

You knew you wouldn't have the answer if you asked him because of his reputation as a foul tyrant. You didn't know much about the dastardly king who reigned over the land of your birth, the only thing you knew was that he hated humans more than anything else in the world. You looked around for answers as to what exactly the king wanted. Nothing about the decorations gave you answers, the only thing that kept catching your attention were the bodies. “If he has servants, why are the bodies still here?” you thought the servants would get rid of them before bringing in any more prospects. 

“3…” His deep voice echoed through the walls along with a devilish smile. 

Sukuna watched you comfortably from his large stone throne, hand carved by the best sculptors in the region. He was amused to see your eyes darting everywhere. “What a fool,” you thought disdainfully. Nothing in the room could help you know what to do. 

“2…” You could hear a small smile escape his lips as he approached 0. 

You analyzed the bodies before you and they all met the same characteristic. None of the heads were connected to the rest of the body. Their heads had been cut off before they were mutilated. If none of them had heads, it is because they must have been at the same height, that is, they were standing when their heads were cut off. Standing in front of a tyrant? Complete blasphemy. That was it. That must have been it. 

“¡1!” 

“Get down, ma'am!” you yelled before pulling the lady down to the floor with you so she could kneel. 

You knelt with your head on your hand as a pillow while the other still held the lady's arm. A thin slice rang through the room. It was so fast that you didn't hear a scream or even a whimper, you only heard the bodies of the others in the room fall to the floor under their own weight. The blood of the old man next to you began to trickle down to your fingers. You didn't dare look at the result of what had happened. You were just relieved that you were in one piece. 

“Finally… Someone with manners,” the king uttered with disdain. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it wouldn't go away. “The one in the middle, come closer,” he commanded. You were dead, you sensed it. 

You struggled to your feet and walked towards him without looking his way. You entered his little sacred place in the middle of the dark, but you could see him clearly. His pink legs were gigantic. His thigh was thicker than your legs put together. That already gave you hints of the giant in front of you. Despite being dressed in a large white robe, he still showed enough skin to be considered vulgar. As soon as you approached, his hand took your head easily as if it were a ball, directing your gaze towards him. Your eyes widened at the eerie sight in front of you. A malevolent face split in half that watched you morbidly. His four eyes roamed your body shamelessly. His half-naked body tattooed with different lines astonished you at a closer look.  

“How old are you?” He asked you while he moved your joints with his four arms as if you were a doll he could play with. You answered obediently between stutters. “Tell me, did your husband sell you?” he answered with a mocking tone. 

“I am not married, my king,” Sukuna arched an eyebrow at that response. You decided to elaborate your answer to that reaction. “My mother sold me because I didn't marry.” 

“You are still old enough to get married,” Sukuna said, still not letting go to observe you better. 

He turned and moved you around like a globe to inspect you completely. It's been a long time since I've seen a girl of your age, to be always in the castle or conquering lands, she always sees young men but almost never women. For someone of the lowest possible class, you had your certain charm. Sukuna saw you as if you were a strange doll in an antique store, odd but striking in your own way. 

“We were starving, my king.”

“It shows,” he replied with a certain mocking tone. “You know… I'm not used to seeing girls like you around here. They always send me decrepit old men or children who didn't die in their mother's womb,” he explained, annoyed. 

Despite the terrifying distance and the fact that your heart was pounding a mile a minute, you were glad he wasn't hurting you. He grabbed you by the head as if he were examining a fruit to dictate whether he could eat it or not, but he didn't squeeze you as if he were squeezing you between his claws. 

“I keep the old people because they work the hardest for their daily meal and I kill all the children because I hate how loud they can be.” You quickly realized right there that you never had a chance to save the child. An unruly tear rolled down your cheek, taking a second to mourn the little boy in silence. “So tell me, what should I do with you, kill you outright or give you a chance?” he asked you with a sinister smile. 

“Dying before I live through hell doesn't sound so bad,” you thought pessimistically. What was the point of going on living? Your mother had sold you, and you trusted that your sisters would marry before you, especially Yorozu, so you didn't have to worry about her. You no longer felt you had any value, but you were afraid of dying. That inexplicable, but useless fear left you frozen. Why did you want to keep breathing if you weren't going to live anyway? Your mind couldn't make up its mind. 

“I trust your decision, my king,” you replied in a sigh of surrender. 

Sukuna's smile disappeared, he did not expect that answer. I thought you would beg him for mercy for your life, but you had completely surrendered to him, leaving your fate in his hands. He smiled again, this time, satisfied. 

“Why?” he asked curiously. 

“Because you always have the last word.” 

“Interesting,” He answered before pulling you by the neck to bring you closer to his face. “You are someone special, aren't you?” Sukuna asked with eyes full of interest in you. He had found a gold nugget in a pile of shit. 

Your eyes slowly drifted to his. Have you heard correctly? Had he, an almighty king, called you special? You no longer knew if your heart was pounding from the flattery or being so close to the king. You were so close that you could decipher what he had for breakfast that morning, probably people. 

“Do you know how to cook and clean?” he asked quietly. You just nodded. “Well, you better not let me down,” he reluctantly let you go, making you stumble backwards. “Now get out of here with that old bitch so you get your uniforms,” he ordered with a harsh tone. 

“Thank you, my king. I will not disappoint you,” you thanked him with a weak smile as you bowed several times before retreating from his presence. 

Sukuna couldn't take his eyes off you. You ran to the shocked lady to help her out of the bloody room. She laid her head on her fist as she followed your anatomy. There was something about you that caught her attention. You were submissive, but you were not stupid. You were perceptive, but not rebellious. He liked what you had offered him so far, he just needed to do a little more observing. 

“Thank you very much, thank you, child, you saved my life!” The old woman cried once they left the room into a candle lit hallway. A small smile crept onto your face. You may not have saved the child, but you saved your new friend. “I am forever in debt with you.” 

“No need, ma'am,” you said so as not to make her feel guilty. 

“Mrs. Inoue,” she introduced herself in tears as she bowed politely, you did the same as you let her know your name. 

They both walked until they reached the end of the hallway where the few survivors were. An uncomfortable silence ruled the place. Mrs. Inoue and yourself sat down on a small bench to wait for instructions. Uraume and a group of servants carrying piles of clothes arrived not long after. Sukuna's right hand looked at everyone with disdain as the servants handed out the uniforms to the new servants who would be under her command. “So she survived…” they thought interested of you as you changed out of the old brown dress into the new uniform. 

You lifted the wet apron against the sunlight to check it for any unwanted stains. Your first anniversary as Sukuna's servant was a month away. You couldn't believe that you were about to complete one lap around the sun since you survived the harvest and received your maid's uniform. A long black dress with a contrasting white apron with black boots and a scarf in your hair to keep your hair off your forehead. You returned the apron to the sink to continue washing it by hand with soap and water. A small smile crept in as you realized you had survived the worst, you just hoped you had the same luck for the rest of your life. Now, you could rest for a very deserving week. 

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Idk, something a bit different.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

She doesn’t see him but he sees her. He’s not hiding. He’s right there. If she just looked up, he’d be caught. But she doesn’t so he remains.

The pointed led scratches over the thick paper. Beside the open sketchpad is a plate of orange chicken and lo mein. He hasn’t touched either. His appetite has wandered away like his mind.

Carefully he etches the line of her nose. She carries a lot of her character there, as she scrunches it at whatever she’s reading then wiggles it as she reaches to sooth an itch. She never quite stops moving, like a hummingbird, she’s aflutter.

Mrs. Zhao comes by her table to deliver her food. A plate of dumplings steaming amid a bed of bean sprouts and broccoli. A quiet thank you is uttered but her eyes don’t meet the elder woman’s gaze. He notices how she can hardly look anywhere but the pages beneath her fingers. Her shield against the world around her.

She closes the book and slides it to the edge of the narrow table for two. She grabs the chopsticks and slides off the paper sleeve. She pulls, struggling to pry them apart only for the left one to break in two, still stuck to the other. Disappointment shadows her features and she lays the chopsticks down mournfully.

He scribbles, trying to capture her expression. He has several crowded onto the page; her pensive stare, her scowling focus, and the shadow of a smile that dimples her cheeks. She takes the fork and pokes at a dumpling. The sharp tines release a small plume of steam.

She uses the side to cut into the tender shell of the dumpling. She blows over a small morsel before tasting it. Her delight is plain as she chews slowly, savouring the taste. As he watches, he recalls his own frigid food.

He lets the notebook close on its own. He leaves it by his elbow, setting the pencil down to roll against its spine. He pulls his plate close, twirling a knot of noodles around his fork. He takes a bite and peeks over at her. 

He pretends that they sit together, that they’re eating at the same table. In some other world, they would be. This would be a sweet date he surprised her with and she would thank him with a smile. Her real smile, the one she chews on but doesn’t let free.

But this isn’t that world. This is reality and he’s just a stranger. She doesn’t know him. She hasn’t even noticed him sitting right there. He puts the fork down and sits back. His appetite curdles to hot bile. 

The loneliness is what he hates the most about this new world. The people around him move too fast, they’re all lost in themselves, they’re looking with seeing, talking without listening. It’s like they don’t even speak the same language.

He asks Mrs. Zhao for a to-go box. Another pile of leftovers to go with the rest. It’s habit. He hates to see a meal go wasted. He remembers the days of mustard sandwiches, when his mother scraped every grain of flour to make a loaf. Nearly a century. A hundred years lost, a life stolen. From him.

He packs up the noodles and the saucy chicken and snaps the lid shut. He doesn’t leave yet. She’s still eating. Just as deliberately as before. Her careful bites are self-conscious as she dabs a napkin to her lips now and again. She doesn’t finish hers either.

She accepts a box and a fresh set of chopsticks to take with her. She slides the remnants of her meal into the container and closes it, fingers squeezing the edges as she checks to make certain it’s secure. She doesn’t leave either. She lingers as she resumes her reading, just a few pages before she finishes the chapter.

She counts out a tip on the table top and stacks it by her empty plate. He tilts his head. She’s a creature out of time. Sort of like him. He always sees the plastic swiping or the tap of a watch that has the machine chirping. She’s old-fashioned, he likes that.

She uses the table to leverage herself to her feet. Her hips are slightly crooked as she stands and pulls on her light baby blue jacket. It’s long and belted at the waist but she leaves it open. She slips her book into her canvas bag and hangs it over her shoulder. She cradles the container in her arm, leaning on the chair before she takes her first step.

He noted that before. One leg seems longer than the other as she limps across the quiet restaurant. She doesn’t seem bothered by her uneven gait, she simply goes on. She stops by the door and looks at the little figurine; a smiling cat waving an arm.

He puts his head down and listens to her departure. He looks down at his gloves hands, turning over his left as a glint of metal peeks out below the sleeve. Someone like him can be fixed but she’s there, with her small steps, forgotten.

He gets up so quickly, he hits his leg on the table. He hurriedly gathers up his sketchbook and clutches it against his leftovers. He waves to Mrs. Zhao as he marches out but can’t untangle his voice from his chest. He doesn’t want to lose her. He can’t lose another thing.

In the street, he catches sight of her blue coat. She’s not very quick as it is. He can easily keep up but he doesn’t want to meet her pace. She can’t see him. Not yet.

He rounds the corner nearly a block back from her. He pauses to feign interest in a window as she clutches her hip and slows. She stops not much further down as a bearded man sits against the brick with a cup jingling in his hand. She speaks so quietly, even the man on the pavement has to lean in. If it wasn’t for the laboratory torture, Bucky wouldn’t hear her either.

She’s sorry that she spent all her change but he can have the food. At first, the man’s face twists, he doesn’t seem happy with that. Then he accepts as if he can’t bear to deny her. Who could?

“Thanks, lady,” the man sounds like a buzzard.

She nods and wishes him a good day, as good as it can be, she adds. Then she’s off again.  

As Bucky trails her, he’s reminded of someone else. Of someone who once needed him. His protection and care. Just another person who abandoned him. The one person who could’ve understood him. Gone, just like everything else.

He tucks his chin down, eyes narrowing on the woman. Target acquired. He shakes off that thought, that worrying echo of the past. He’s not the machine they made him. He’s still a man. Alone and broken, just like they left him.

Like her.

Her

Just along the crooked and cracked walk, behind the overgrown bush, there lays the peeling door behind the creaky metal grate. It’s a grim scene but sometimes you pretend it’s a hidden entrance and that you’re unlocking the passage to some fantastical world. You twist the key, wiggling it before it catches, and you pull as hard as you can.

The wrought iron is heavy and one of the bars juts out enough to catch your sleeve. You use your shoulder to hold the outer door open as you unlock the second. You stumble inside, your hip achy and overworked. You close both doors tight, cranking the deadbolts back into place.

The rain will come soon. It’s why you wore your jacket. You expected it to come earlier but you’re glad it didn’t. The change in pressure always wracks your bones.

You hang the baby blue coat as you put your canvas bag on the worn wicker seat of the chair beside the door. The apartment is small but it’s all yours. The single room is a kitchen, bedroom, and everything else but the bathroom. That is barely more than a closet.

There’s a thump from above. Several as the neighbours’ toddler barrels around. You should’ve waited until after nap time to leave.

You leave your boots on the woven mat and fish out the novel from your bag. You limp across to the folding couch, still a bed as you hadn’t bothered to roll away the flimsy mattress. You lower yourself onto it, pulling a pillow behind you as you recline.

Your pelvis is sore. The chair in the restaurant wasn’t very comfortable, though the food was good for the cost. You don’t eat out very often. Not really at all but it’s your birthday and you wanted to do something special.

You open the pages and quickly dive back into another life. A world where magic can weave miracles but tempts a dangerous darkness in its use. No good thing comes without a price.

You slump down as you read. The sunlight slowly fades as the clouds shift and the din deepens. You close the book as you look across the room at the floor lamp. The small distance across the room seems akin to Tolkien’s infamous trek. You don’t want to get up, you just want to sleep in the damp afternoon.

You sigh and put the book beside you. You rub your eyes and forehead and bend one leg, then the other. Your muscles are taut and protest with a dull burn. You can’t read in the dark, you’ll get another headache.

You groan and push yourself to sit on the edge of the mattress. The slender frame echoes you sharply as you stand. Your right foot comes down heavier than the left as you cross the space. You flick on the light and flinch as a storm cloud seems to pass over your very window.

You turn to face the gap between the curtains. How strange. You near the pane as rain speckles on the outside. You peer up at the slat of sky visible between the rooftops. 

You twitch again as you hear something mulch. You whip your head to the side as you look towards the bush. It could be a critter hiding in the bin, no time to find their nest as the storm rises.

You back away, puffing out your fright. Living alone makes you paranoid, even if you prefer it. You live by your own rules, your own schedule, your own whims. The problem is, you’re finding it difficult to figure all those out. You don’t know what you want.

You sit again and rub your lower back. The only thing you can name, you can’t have. The pain is your eternal companion. The looks you get when you venture out are just as persistent. You felt those curious, somewhat dejecting, glances today. You don’t care if they think you walk a bit oddly, you just don’t like to be looked at.

You turn your head to gaze longingly at the kettle. It’s the perfect weather for tea and you forgot to get a cup of green at the restaurant. Yet, it’s a very far way to go, then back again to wait for the water to steam.

You relent. You stand up and go to the small counter set into the wall. You flip on the electric kettle and lean on the chipped laminate. The toddler’s footsteps rumble like thunder overhead and the shadows once more stir behind you.

You turn to face the apartment, hands curled around the counter’s edge. The steady drip of the eaves form a tempo as the rain spatters harder against the window, rattling it in the wooden frame. The doors quiver too as the tempest blows into the alley.

You used to like rainstorms, before they made you hurt so much. Before they seemed so dark. You used to like a lot of things before you were broken. Those days seem very far behind you. Sometimes, you wonder if they ever were.

[nonranghaes]

seungcheol is a dog person.

and yet two years into your relationship and post-him moving in with you... he's fallen asleep on the couch with your cat curled up in his lap. seungcheol is a dog person, he tells himself. he still loves kkuma, who eventually grew to adore your cat after she grew used to him. he still loves seeing puppies when he takes her for walks. he always teases you about getting another dog to keep kkuma company--a puppy that'll grow to love the orange bastard you own (your words, not his).

and now he's woken up because the your cat is kneading at his stomach, slowly blinking at him before settling back in. he curls into himself, round like a big loaf of bread. kkuma is watching him from her bed. your stinky little man (again, your words, not cheol's) just dozes off without a care, nuzzling his head against him like he hasn't done the exact same shit to you while looking cheol dead in the eyes to say this is my person, not yours.

(yes, seungcheol did have a short, one-sided rivalry with your cat. he swears he knew what he was doing whenever he climbed in the way, demanding your attention during date nights. those days are long gone, sure, but he still adamantly swears that it wasn't so one-sided whenever you tease him about it.)

seungcheol is a dog person. but for you and your orange bread-loaf of a son... he'll make an exception. especially when he feels the accepting purr from your cat, happy to live in harmony with him.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the breakfast

lilac, chapter two

a/n: when my love, @chvoswxtch, asked me to bring the horny energy of miss patty from gilmore girls, of course I fucking did it, I'm not a criminal, that's what we all deserve

summary: “well, hello stranger.” 

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, wholesome villagers being adorable

word count: 2373

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The Lilac Inn wasn’t just an inn to the citizens of Dunbrook. It was its beating heart, a hub for the small community to gather. 

As the town’s only culinary establishment, the residents had always made a habit of eating a fair amount of their meals in the inn’s dining room, the door to the kitchen often staying wide open so that Harvey wouldn’t have to leave the stove in order to catch all of the juicy small-town gossip that had people blabbering. 

“Dad, did you turn off my alarm?” you snapped as soon as your scurrying feet carried you into the bustling kitchen.

Not lifting his eyes from the loaf of bread he was currently slicing, your dad simply countered with a jovial, “well, good morning to you too, sleeping beauty!”

“Dad,” you sighed, jaw clenching at his usual demeanour, the paralysing dream you’d just roused from not setting you up to be in the right mood for such a level of positivity. 

“You just looked like you could use the extra hour or two,” a smile still warm on his lips, the middle-aged man defensively raised his hands.

“But I’m supposed to help you out,” your eyes followed his movements as he trotted towards the stove, “I can’t do that if I’m asleep.”

“Exactly,” your dad passed by a hook full of tangled textiles and tossed you an apron, “that’s why I let you go a little longer so that you wouldn’t doze off on me before lunchtime arrives.” 

“I wouldn’t have dozed off…” you mumbled pettily as you tied the linen around your waist. Exhaling lowly as you watched him crack two eggs into a sizzling skillet, you asked, “what can I do?”

“Well for starters,” he tossed the shells into a small scrap bowl to his side, “these were the last eggs, so if you could go get some more out by the front desk, that would be superb.”

“Why do you have eggs on the front desk?”

“Because Otto’s chickens are laying a lot right now and so he told me he’d give me some today when he swung by for breakfast.” 

“Wait, Sheriff Nilsen has chickens now?”

“Yeah, has for a long time,” the decade of you not living here grew palpable, “he usually just drops the extra ones off here, so they should already be there because I just took his order two minutes ago.”

“Alright,” you disappeared through the back door and snaked down the narrow corridor, ending up behind the messy reception area. 

Your eyes didn’t have to search for long before you noticed the petite basket, brimming with beige eggs, resting on the top of the counter right beside the small rolodex that displayed what date it was. Grasping it in your hand, your vision momentarily drifted down to the small, framed photo nuzzled behind the ever-open logbook. Sitting on the swing that still hung from one of the sturdy trees out back, head adorably posed in a tiny palm, there a 7-year-old version of you sat, forever frozen in that singular moment, beaming up at the camera. 

“Ah!” a sharp voice boomed as you heard the front door swing shut, “oh my goodness, oh my god! Y/n!”

Raising your chin, your eyes grew wide at the rotund woman beaming at you from the doormat, “miss Rays!” you hurried around the front desk, “oh my god, it’s been so long!” 

Capturing you in a hug, she pressed your form into her bosom, “darling, we’re not in bed together, call me Donna.”

Pulling back with a light chuckle, your eyes fluttered over her features, “you haven’t changed one bit,” her lipstick still a fiery shade red and hair still short and feathery framing her plump cheeks.

“You however have,” she clasped your free hand in hers, guiding your figure to give her a good view, “oh, do a little spin for me,” you bashfully obliged with a giggle, “yes! Honey, who is this woman, what have you done with the adorable little girl I used to tutor?”

To your knowledge, Dunbrook never really had a proper school, but for as long as you could recall Donna had always operated as a teacher to the handful of children that called the reclusive mountain village their home. Even though it was just run out of her living room, she had still been the best teacher you’d ever had, her patient way rivalling any of the professors you had to endure when you went off for college. As a matter of fact, she had been the person who’d pushed you to send in the application, praising that you were too clever not to go out and change the world. 

“Oh, stop it,” you sighed light-heartedly, a chuckle still bubbling out of your chest as you shifted the subject away from your own appearance, “so, you still come here for breakfast?”

“Of course, I do, you’ve tasted your father’s cooking,” readjusting her purse, she hooked her arm in yours, “a real shame that he’s never accepted any of my offers of becoming your stepmom,” she leaned in to add as you crossed over the threshold into the dinner room, “I could have been served all my meals in bed like some Egyptian queen!” 

“I’m sure you can easily find another fellow that can handle himself in the kitchen,” the click-clack of her heels came to a stop by one of the small round tables, her eyes briefly taking in the other patrons before a slight crease appeared betwixt her polished brows. 

“Oh, darn it,” her vision stayed glued to the table in the corner as she lowered herself onto her seat, “he’s not sitting at his usual table…”

“Who?”

“The eye candy over there,” she tilted her chin in the direction of the broad, muted flannel-clad back of the man sitting by the window furthest down at the bottom of the room, “you see, I asked your dear father to always reserve this spot for me just so that I can have a great view, if you know what I mean…” gulping down the rest of his coffee, the man’s head tilted enough for you to recognise whom the rugged looking visage belonged to, “oh boy, I tell you, if I was 30 years younger…”

Haven assumed that you’d never again run into the stranger who’d helped you just the day before, a warm flutter suddenly trickled down your spine, “like that’s ever stopped you before,” you pointed out, snapping your eyes out of their trance, “so, uh, do you know what you want to eat or do you just want some coffee or something while you think on it?” you took two steps towards the oblong table where mismatched teacups where stacked and the steam of a few thermoses, all containing a different hot beverage then the next, billowed out.

“Some coffee would be lovely,” she smiled as you with one hand snatched up a mug and the decanter labelled as such, “and some oatmeal if you don’t mind, sweetie.”

Promptly pouring her a cup, you then signed off with a wink, “you got it,” before your vision landed upon the latest of Donna’s abundant infatuations once more. 

Attempting to make the short journey seem spontaneous and effortless, you bounced from table to table, topping off people's cups, before reaching the final one. 

Drawing in a deep breath, your embarrassingly giddy voice then found his ears, “well, hello stranger.” 

Eyes flickering away from the newspaper sprawled out before him, a look of shock washed over his gruff features as he glanced up at you, “oh, hi.”

“Pete–, it is Pete, right?” you checked, slight mortification beginning to brew within your belly. 

“Yes, ma'am,” his head nodded ever so slightly.

“Do you want a refill, Pete?” you savoured the taste of his name on your tongue. 

“Sorry?” his brows furrowed at your offer. 

“Your coffee,” you pointed with the hand that clutched the handle of the thermos, “do you want some more?”

“Oh,” he breathed, though the puzzled look didn’t seem to fade, “yes, always.” 

Leaning in slightly over the newspaper, you filled up the drained mug, only a murky ring at the bottom indicating what it had previously contained, “and can I get you something to eat as well?” 

Eyes narrowing, he stared up at you, “is your vacation really already so boring that you got a job here or what?”

“Oh,” you couldn’t help but breathe out a light chuckle as you answered, “I’m not on vacation and I guess, kinda,” staring back into his eyes as you attempted to repeat your question, “so, do you want any–,” though before you could finish the sentence, out pranced your father, a plate of food balanced in his palm. 

“2 eggs sunny side up and some sourdough toast, as per usual,” he sang as his long arm came down to slice the air between your forms, placing the dish upon the table. 

Briefly catching his eye, Pete then offered a polite nod of gratitude, “thank you,” folding the paper up and scooting the meal closer. 

Feeling the small basket of eggs disappear from your grip, you blinked back at your father as he softly requested in your ear, “honey, could you give me a hand in the back when you’re done out here?”

“Sure, dad,” you flashed him a smile before watching him disappear once more. 

Feet still glued to the floorboards right by Pete’s table, your vision then returned to him as his deep voice washed over you, “so, you’re Harvey’s kid, then?”

“Yep, that’s my dad,” your balance briefly shifted as you rocked on the balls of your feet, “thank you, by the way, for yesterday.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” his fork punctured one of the golden yokes, “how’s your car looking?” 

“I don’t really know yet. The local mechanic is taking a look today, so fingers crossed it’s not anything too catastrophic,” you felt your palms begin to sweat as he simply stared up at you in silence, “anyhow,” you averted your gaze nervously, “I’ll stop bothering you, let eat in peace,” you nearly bumped into the chair behind you as you backed up towards the kitchen, the near accident not managing to draw any words out of him, only the hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips, “see you around, I guess…” 

“Hey, dad?” 

Briefly raising his eyes from the logbook cracked open on the wooden counter, he glanced up at you as you bounced down the wide staircase, “yeah, pumpkin?”

Hand tracing the railing, with the aid of the grip, you swung your form around the last post as you ascended the final step, “did you know that the hot water doesn’t work? Like at all.”

“Yeah, that and about a million other things around here,” he sighed, vision returning to the ledger as you rested your folded-up arms upon the top of the reception, “this is a beautiful historic building… and what I mean by that is that there are too many things that either don’t work the way they should or at all. I am not a millionaire, honey. If I was, then the issues wouldn’t be piling up the way that they are…”

Bottom lip snug between your teeth, your mind raced a moment before you quietly theorised, “exactly how long is that list?”

Eyes racing to find your eyes, your father joked, “why? Did you become a contractor while living in New York or something?”

“No, but I was always the handy one out of the two of us,” you noted before your shoulders raised in an innocent shrug, “how hard could it be?”

“Let me get this right,” he raised a palm up between you as his eyes crinkled even further, “you’re telling me you wanna try and patch this place up?”

“Well, it couldn’t hurt the business side of things. When was the last time you booked out more than two rooms at a time here?”

“Oh, no, no,” the moustachioed man then began to shake his head, “you’re not turning this place into some fake, glossy tourist attraction.”

Swinging around to his side of the counter, you assured him, “hey, I’m not saying let's flood this place with tourists, but maybe just a handful more?” tilting your head in an attempt to catch his gaze that had now returned to the open book, “just enough to make ends meet, perhaps also enough to at some point hire someone else so that you won’t work yourself to death…” 

Eyes frozen on the page before him, a long exhale then flowed from his lungs as he deliberated. 

“Alright, fine, yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be that bad…” he tried to downplay the smile that blossomed upon his lips.

Spine pressed against the edge of the front desk, you then braced with your palms and hauled yourself up onto the spot that was just clear enough for you to sit there without knocking any knickknacks over. 

“So,” you drew out, searching for a new topic to explore, “Donna seems to be quite set on that guy Pete to be her new husband, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harvey chortled, “but you know her, she’s like a dog spotting a pheasant every time she sees a new man. I think genuinely I might be the only person in town who isn’t either terrified of him or has some desire to sleep with him.”

“How long has he been here anyway?”

“Eh,” he glanced up at the stained glass adorning the front door as he thought, “maybe a year or two? He mostly keeps to himself, lives up in a cabin in the woods and only really comes down here to either provide some firewood to whoever needs it or have some coffee,” vision landing on you, he then noted, “you however seemed to have broken through to him quite quickly. Took me like 5 months to get anything more than a grunt of recognition out of him.”

“Oh,” you couldn’t stop your eyebrows as they promptly rose up, “well, he kinda helped me the day that I got here. He was the guy I caught a ride with…”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[lowkeyrobin]

hello:))

been loving ur mcyt preferences, and was wondering if you would do one where reader has insomnia???

I take medication for it and i got took off it for a break UGHH. anyways luv ur writing and take ur time plz:))

ooooo okay!! ; and thank you thank you, I appreciate it 🫶🫶🫶

MCYT ; insomniac/night owl

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, & quackity

warnings ; language, sleep paralysis, jokes about OD'ing (melatonin)

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

genuinley feels so bad bc the second he closes his eyes, he's passed the hell out

he'll try and stay awake with you though and wait for the melatonin or just sleep in general to kick in

"if you're too tired to work, then don't. go back to sleep, don't worry about it"

compares you to tubbo 24/7

will bring you cherries and some milk because natural melatonin ❗️❗️

sometimes he'll try and stay awake with you and turn a movie on and he'll just pass out on your shoulder

you'll walk into his stream after sleeping until like 5 in the evening and quietly wave with a groggy look on your face

he laughs (in a very lighthearted way dw)

"y/nnnnn I know you're tired but we gotta go before we miss it"

"I'm coming, I'm coming"

you're basically just a night owl, like his personal guard dog lmao

he'll joke about it a bit too, how you're protecting him in the dark from the monsters 😭

RANBOO

he can and will stay up all night with you

mostly plays video games with you in hopes you'll get tired that way

which works a bit

does insane amounts of research, gets you eating all sorts of natural melatonin before bed and even gets you like children's melatonin gummies 💀💀

"do you have a sleep paralysis demon? are you just scared to sleep?"

"I just cannot sleep, I just toss and turn all night, I swear to god"

one of those people to do endless amounts of research to try and help

"do you wanna go to the doctor and get a prescription or something? maybe it'll help"

tweeting/posting about dumb shit you do at night

"y/n made a whole loaf of bread overnight someone send help"

"tell me why I woke up this morning to my partner staring into my soul holy shit"

FREDDIE BADLINU

also feels rlly bad that he can't help you

also brings you cherries, bananas and milk for natural melatonin in hopes it'll help a bit

will genuinley take you to a doctor to get you a prescription or something

also tweets about the shit you do while he's asleep overnight

"guys y/n picked up crocheting overnight wth"

"love when my partner wakes me up at 5am for breakfast because it was going cold 🥰 (they started cooking at 3:30am)

he can't stay up too late most days, he's a busy man

he feels so bad if you're sleeping through the whole day, he barely ever wakes you up bc he knows you're tired

"love, go back to sleep, you were up all night, I'll call you in sick, don't worry about it"

he strays away from od jokes when you're taking melatonin gummies/pills but sometimes he just has to say it

if you have a sleep paralysis demon as well, yk damn well he'll find his way into your dreams and beat the bitch up

if you can't sleep but he can, he'll just hold you and hope that you'll sleep soon

you'll usually sit there and play with his hair and admire him til you gotta get up and do something

NIKI NIHACHU

like ranboo, she puts in endless research of just trying to find things that might help you

she feels so bad

especially when you're sleeping all through the day and feel groggy as hell 24/7

if you have a paralysis demon she always reassures you that she'll beat it up for you next time it comes around

anything to make you smile bro

she's so sweet about it, if you're sleeping she makes sure to keep it quiet because this is one of the rare chances when you're sleeping

if you go multiple days without sleep and start tweaking out, she'll comfort you to sleep, doesn't matter how long it'll take

"It's okay, honey. it's okay, just focus on the rain sounds outside"

dedicated a whole kinda calm music playlist to help you sleep/relax yourself

finds it so funny when you do shit during the night to try and entertain yourself and it's the most random shit

like you'll go out and feed stray cats, accidently steal a shopping cart, fight the air and record it, etc

sleepy on stream hugs >>>

"well good morning, sunshine. its seven pm"

ALEX QUACKITY

"bro how do you not sleep"

if you got a sleep paralysis demon.... oh it's over for that mf

tweets about the dumb exhausted shit you do

"how do I turn y/n off at bedtime? I'm tired of waking up to see them staring into my soul"

"I love waking up to breakfast (I've been woken up at 4am for the past 2 weeks help me rn)"

thinks it's funny and sad at the same time when you start tweaking after not sleeping

"bro, go to sleep, cmon, it's okay, you're fine" as he's trying not to laugh at you

literally stuffs you with melatonin around 7:30 to see if it'll help LMAO

even talks on stream about how he's gonna fight the demons and pretends whoever he's fighting w is one LMAO

loves when you walk into stream all groggy and tired because he can finally spend a little time w you

[starless-nightz]

Hello, I see you did headcanons about daughter of Hestia. Can I have Hestia headcanons interact with the child, showing them love. Thank you very much

Platonic! Hestia interacting with her demigod! child HCs

note -> I love Hestia so much guys shes so silly <333

warnings -> none.

content includes -> fluff.

Hestia, unlike her brothers and nephews, is the kind who never makes a big entrance; she always seems to appear right when you need her. It's like, you ever get homesick or cast out, or maybe just too overwhelmed with camp life in general, the campfire's burning just a little warmer and a little brighter, with calmness washing over you.

Hestia knows you don't always want to be smothered with attention, so she expresses her love in little ways. She'll make sure the hearth in the Big House burns a little longer when you're near it, or you'll find a small, fresh-baked loaf of bread left on your bed, still warm as if it's just out of the oven.

She is the sort of goddess who listens rather than talks. When all you want to do is vent, talk about what's bothering you, Hestia will sit down next to you, her face attentive and patient, and not interrupt a single word. You might bring up struggles with training, drama with your friends, fears for the future-she is ready for it all.

When you are in despair over your powers or feeling less worthy, Hestia is always there to remind you of the inner strength within you. "You carry a spark, a warmth that others can only hope to touch," she will say softly, her voice no louder than the sound of a gentle crackling fire. "Remember that, my child."

She likes her campfire nights, too, and she'll be there when most of the campers have gone off to bed. You'll find her tending the flames, humming some quiet, ancient tune. She invites you to sit with her, letting the peaceful crackle of the fire fill in the silence between you. It is an occasion to simply be without pressures or expectations.

And when you're ever alone in camp, she's quick to remind you that you have a place. "You're not alone, my child. While you have that warmth inside of you, you'll always have a family—even if it's not the one you were born into." A promise laced within her words, carrying a warmth that overstays its welcome when she herself is gone.

She will drag you away on those very bad days when you feel that you are carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and drag you further into camp to a quiet corner, where she'll make a little fire, just for the two of you. She will tell stories of days gone by, about how even gods felt insignificant at some point in life, and remind one that no matter what, there is a spark inside them, which nobody can take away.

Hestia has a way of making you feel valued, even when you’re just doing small, everyday things. If she finds you helping out with chores around the camp, she’ll give you a nod of approval, or say something like, “You have a gift for bringing people together, just like the hearth.” It’s her way of reminding you that even the smallest acts can hold great meaning.

She never asks for anything in return, but you like to leave little offerings at her shrine—a flower you found in the forest, a piece of bread from breakfast, a thank-you note. Hestia always finds a way to show her appreciation, like making the campfire a little warmer that night or sending a gentle breeze that smells faintly of home.

She's your safe space at Camp Half-Blood, ever ready to welcome you into her arms and greet you with a bright smile. And even though she is a goddess, she is still your mother, she can make you feel like you're the most important person in the world every time she is with you, because to her you are the most important thing in her world.

[palskippah]

Hmmmm

Preg!Mario but hes in his cat or tanooki suit >:3

Hi!

Anon you're the smartest of the anons ever and also thanks for giving me an excuse to feel less embarrassed of posting preg cat Mario here ajskdjak

Here's some ideas regarding the cat suit when Mario's preggy bc about the tanuki suit I've got like one:

-When Mario's with the cat suit, his body becomes cat-like (surprise :0 omg) and that means he's much more flexible, so he really likes to use the suit when he feels overwhelmed at how much he can't do now that his pregnancy's so advanced. When he's a cat he can stretch like he wants, his belly doesn't feel as cumbersome and he can even loaf for a lil' while (until it becomes uncomfortable, and he has to change positions).

>It's for those reasons that, let's say that at the last weeks of pregnancy, Mario sleeps at night with the suit on. He sleeps soundly and wakes up feeling very rested, never mind whichever weird position he was in, he feels great.

>Now this is a problem for Peach's sleeping, because since Mario's able to pull weirder positions to sleep in, she often finds herself with a very pregnant cat just sleeping on top of her and snoring the loudest he ever has. The whole night. She doesn't say much about it, she's glad that Mario is resting and sleeping well, because before they figured out the Super Bell, he couldn't move much when sleeping, since any change in position could alter his comfort. He could be laying in his side, and if he tips a bit too forward his belly starts pulling at his back and makes it ache, but if he tips too backwards, the weight of the babies makes him feel short of breath- so basically he can't do anything without feeling discomfort.

>Before Mario was pregnant, he moved everywhere too when he slept at night, but Peach could easily hold him and pin him down and whenever he moved, she just hugged him and manhandled him to her own comfort, he always slept so deeply that he didn't really notice that he was being thrown around like a doll. BUT it's much harder when the small guy is pregnant with twins, it isn't just harder to move him since he's heavier, but also, she doesn't want to cause him discomfort nor jostle the babies too much. She doesn't want to move him around this time either, and yeah, she could just scoot away from Mario, but he always unconsciously looks around for her body to get closer. So, Peach stays right in the middle of the bed, it's much better being uncomfortable there, than at a little corner where she's still going to have Mario right over her.

-About tanuki Mario, the fact that they gain some weight when they have the Super Leaf was not pulled from my heart, the source is here SJDKSJ from Super Mario Broth's twitter. Also, I think it was the racoon power-up, but honestly I don't get the difference between that one and the tanuki one hwdwh

>So, he just feels a bit less agile with the tanuki suit on, so he doesn't use it as much unless necessary- prefers the cat suit the most :y

-One morning Peach finally snaps, and pretty much yells at Mario that she can't take it any longer and she's so sleepy. Mario jumped in place from her outburst but kept listening silently while she rambled about how Mario stays almost on top of her ALL night and he wouldn't let her fall asleep and it's been so many nights already and if she goes another night without sleeping, she'll go crazy- and when she's breathing to get her air back after all that, he says almost shyly, why don't you use a Super Bell too?

>And Peach pauses to look at him and then at the ceiling in such a deep disappointment directed to herself that Mario feels bad for having to resist the urge to laugh. Why didn't I think of that-? she asks herself, raising a hand as if ready to smack her own forehead, but then she redirects the hand and points a finger at Mario, You- I think the pregnancy brain is contagious, she mutters, with a crazed look in her eyes that completely comes from not getting her usual eight hours of sleep each night. And now Mario can't resist the giggle that left him.

>From then on, each night both sleep soundly, yippie!!

-Btw I love drawing sleeping characters with drool, it's like they're having a really good sleep aksdjsaj

-BTW look at the first drawing I made of tanuki Mario last night, to figure out how it was JSKSJD the silly

-ALSO, it was Peach who gave the solution initially askjdasd

[Mario's laying on his side partially while complaining about his back, Peach comes up with the solution of the Super Bell, and then there's Cat Mario deeply asleep in the same position as before aksjdsa]

[i-arch-my-backula]

Immortal Lovers Chapter two: Lestat x reader x Louis

Content includes: Homophobic slurs and language used

‘Y/N.’ A dreamy voice calls out. You’re unable to make out who it is. You turn to lay on your back, moving to grab your pillow but all you find is sand filling your grip. You open your eyes and stare up at the sky, the sounds of a beach moving around you. You sit up and look around. You’re back in New England. It’s summer again. The summer you spent that month with your family at a beach house. You slowly stand up, noticing you’re alone at the beach. 

‘Y/N~’ That voice calls again. You still don't know who it is. Maybe because that voice changes as it speaks. It starts as a man’s voice, but it ends in a more feminine tone, like two people are saying it, blending their voices together. You know those voices, the man’s more intimate and the woman’s something more platonic.

‘Hello?’ You call out, buttoning up your cardigan against the wind blowing on the beach. ‘What am I doing here? I can’t go back home.’ You say, turning in a circle to try and see who else is here. 

‘Why not? What happened at home?’ That voice asks, it’s changing tone driving you mad as you try to recognize who it is. Or maybe it’s because who you know it is, but you don’t want to remember.

‘My family. My family said if I went back they’d kill me for what I am.’ You say, slowly walking along the beach, the only noise you can hear is the crashing of waves and the wind in your ear. 

‘What are you Y/N?’ That voice calls. But before you can reply a clearer noise breaks into your mind. Knocking, a sharp knocking. You shake your head and shut your eyes. ‘What are you?’ that voice asks again before you open your eyes and wake up in bed, wearing your sleep clothes. You sit up and rub your face.

Some dreams you have are so vivid you wonder how you’re able to get any kind of peace after them. But that knocking happens again. 

“Y/N? Y/N?” You hear someone on the outside of your apartment door calling out. You get up and put on a robe, walking over to the door. You open it and find your neighbor Miss. Todd looking back at you, holding a dish full of some kind of bread with a card on top of it. “Oh Y/N, hello dear. I’m sorry to disturb you but I made some loaves of bread for my daughter and she didn’t want the last one. I didn’t want it to spoil so I was hoping you’d take it.” She says, extending it out towards you.

Miss. Todd is a nice woman from what you know about her. She’s 52, has a daughter your age, her husband died twenty years ago, she’s Catholic, always trying to get you to go to church with her, and she wants to set you up with her daughter. 

“Oh that’s very kind of you Miss. Todd. It smells wonderful.” You say, taking the loaf pan from her. “I won’t let this go to waste, I promise you that. I’ll eat all of it.” 

“Oh you’re such a wonderful young man Y/N.” She says, patting you on the shoulder. “My daughter could use someone as wonderful as you as a husband.” You laugh and shake your head. 

“She is a lovely woman, Miss. Todd. But I think that I need to focus on my career right now.” You say. She hums and her smile drops slightly. 

“Well if you ever want to meet with her do let me know.” And with that she leaves. You shut your door and set down the loaf pan, picking up the card. Opening it up you find an invitation to Sunday mass at her Church. You know where it is. Maybe if you go this once she’ll leave you alone. 

After getting ready for the day and starting to work on cleaning up your apartment again you hear another knock at the door. You groan slightly and open it, finding Mary Ann on the other side. 

“It’s far too lovely of a day for the two of us to be stuck inside doing nothing. You need a break from doing all your work. Let’s go do something fun.” She says, walking past you into your apartment. You smile at her and shut your door behind you. 

“Well I know that you’re not going to let me stay here with that kind of a tone. Now, where are we going?” You ask, watching as she adjusts the gloves she’s wearing. 

“I was hoping that we could go out for some brunch and then walk around town, maybe stop by a few shops and a park. Or we can just see where the day takes us.” She says, a wide smile on her face. You can’t help but smile right back at her. You’re truly blessed to have such a good friend as her.

“Alright then. Let me get myself dressed and we’ll be on our way.” You say, patting her shoulder as you enter your bedroom again. You get yourself ready as quickly as your body will allow and then you’re off into town in Mary Ann.

You two stop at a cafe, then a bookstore and several other shops, then a park. It’s rather secluded for being a park in New Orleans. But everyone is probably out in a speakeasy by now, considering the sun is already starting to set by the time you’re out there together.

“Do you think those new films coming out are worth seeing?” Mary Ann asks, kicking a rock along the stone path of the park. You shrug your shoulders and look around at how golden everything looks with the setting sun in the sky casting its rays out in the town. 

“Maybe it is. They’re really the talk of the town at the moment. Maybe we should see one sometime.” You look down at your shoes and then back up at the park. 

“There’s always plays and operas in town as well. Maybe we should learn Italian so we can understand what they’re saying when they sing.” Mary Ann says, as playfully nudges you with her elbow, you laugh and nudge her back.

“It felt like everyone in New England spoke two languages, just to show off that they can. My parents tried to get me to learn French, but it never stuck with me. So I picked up the violin instead.” You comment, putting your hands in your coat pockets. Mary Ann looks over at you with a wide smile. 

“You keep talking about how you play the violin, you have to play it for me some time. At least the simplest nursery rhyme you know.” She comments, kicking the rock to the side. 

“Well when I get access to one I’ll refresh my memory before I play a song for you.” You look at your watch before you stop. It’s almost eight pm, you’re supposed to be at Lestat and Louis’ house at 8:30. “Oh shit, we need to get to Louis and Lestat’s house.” You say, looking back at Mary Ann. 

“Oh my lord I forgot all about that. I have dinner with my parents tonight. Do you think you could go alone? I’d hate to make you do that.” She says, putting a hand on your shoulder. You nod your head and put your hand on her shoulder too. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a simple invitation for a conversation. I’ll be ok.” You assure her. She takes her hand off your shoulder and you do the same. 

“Alright. I’ll speak with you soon. Goodbye.” Mary Ann says. 

“Goodbye.” You say back before rushing back to your apartment. By the time you get back to your apartment right at eight and you rush to get ready, changing out of your casual clothes into something more fit for going over to an acquaintance’s house. 

You shave and style your hair as fast as you can, getting both done in a record time of 13 minutes. You put on a nice suit as fast as you can, grab your wallet, keys, a hat, and coat before rushing out of your door. You get out of your apartment building and start walking down the street at a fast pace, but trying to not be too fast with it. 

That’s the tricky thing about being here, trying to get around and live a normal life without drawing too much attention to yourself, and also not getting the reputation of being some kind of hermit that avoids any and all kinds of human interaction.

You already feel your mind starting to spiral as you walk but thankfully they don’t live too far and you get to their house right at 8:30. You ring the doorbell of the lavish townhouse in front of you. Hoping at first you’re not too overdressed, but now seeing the house they live in, you feel underdressed. Soon Louis walks outside and opens the gate, letting you in. 

“Wonderful to see you again Y/N.” He says, shaking your hand, his skin still as cold as it was when you first met him. Strange.

“Wonderful to see you too Louis. You have a lovely home here.” You say as the two of you start to walk into the townhouse. You get inside and are greeted by Lestat. He smiles at you and shakes your hand.

“Wonderful to see you again Y/N.” He says, his French accent lacing his words with a sort of softness you can’t quite explain. 

“Wonderful to see you too Lestat. I’m sorry that Mary Ann couldn’t make it here tonight. Something came up.” You explain, taking off your hat and coat, which Louis takes from your hands, hanging them up. 

“Oh well there is no need to worry. We’re happy you came.” Lestat says, smiling at you then at Louis. “Would you like anything to drink?” He asks, looking at you again. You just now start to notice how bright his blue eyes are. How you haven’t seen eyes like his before at all. 

“Oh no thank you. I don’t drink very much.” You say as Lestat leads you into their living room. You sit on a couch across from where Lestat and Louis sit together. You can tell things might get a bit awkward if you don’t do anything soon so you quickly speak again. 

“How did you two meet?” You ask, unbuttoning your suit jacket so you can sit more comfortably. Lestat and Louis look at each other before Louis speaks.

“We met several years ago through a mutual friend. Lestat was new to New Orleans and I started to help him with business ventures.” He explains. You nod your head as you listen, but you also pick up on his eyes. His bright green eyes. How strange. 

“You said you came here from New England to try and build yourself a better life, correct?” Lestat asks, crossing one of his legs over the other. You nod your head and loosen your tie a bit. Maybe you should have taken up his offer for a drink. 

“Oh yes I did. I don’t have any major ties back in New England and I thought why not go out and try to build a better life for myself. I mean, that is what America is known for. People coming here to build themselves better lives.” You say, still smiling at them. 

You hear Louis whisper something in French to Lestat, who whispers back to Louis in French as well. You look away from the two of them as they whisper back and forth, taking in all of the details of their townhouse. How elaborately decorated everything is. All of the lavish furniture, the fire burning in the fireplace. This whole town house is lined with a kind of wealth you’re unfamiliar with. 

“Je le jure devant Dieu Louis si tu me fais perdre mon sang-froid devant notre invité.” Lestat says, loud enough for you to hear but not loud enough to make it something intentional on his part. You look back over at them and smile. 

“My parents tried to teach me French.” You say with a small smile on your face. Louis and Lestat look back at you, smiling too, but this time it’s more tense. “It was a status symbol to be able to speak another language like French there. I’ve forgotten most of it however. Je m'appelle Y/N. Oui s'il vous plait. Non merci. Very simple things like that. Not ready for a trip to Paris anytime soon.” You say lightheartedly. 

Louis and Lestat let out soft chuckles and you notice how close the two of them are sitting to each other. It’s nothing too out of the ordinary, but considering the two of them live together and they aren’t married, you start to wonder.

‘How do I ask them? If I’m too forward and I’m wrong I might have to leave the city. But if I’m too ambiguous and right they won’t have a clue.’ You think to yourself, still smiling at the both of them. 

“You know I think I’d like a glass of wine.” You say, standing up from your spot. Lestat quickly stands up after you. 

“Oh no. Do not worry about it, I’ll get it for you.” He says, still smiling. You sit back down and Lestat leaves the room. You look at Louis, getting yourself to relax on the couch a bit more. You look down at your shoes and notice a lace is untied. You lean down and start to tie it when you hear Louis’ voice speak to you again. 

“Did you have any questions you wanted to ask?” But it doesn’t sound like the way a voice sounds when someone speaks, it sounds like he’s saying the words directly into your head. You look back up at Louis who is smiling at you innocently. 

“I’m sorry did you say something? I don’t think I quite caught that.” You say.

“Oh I was wondering if you’ve been enjoying yourself here in New Orleans?” You know that’s not what you heard, you know he knows it too, but you don’t comment on it.

“New Orleans is a very lovely place. Everything down here is so lively and bright. Taking walks around town, day or night, hearing the people talk and the bands play, it’s all so wonderful.” You keep your smile and Louis nods his head, resting his arms on the back of the couch. 

“Well I’m glad to hear that. Lived my whole life down here, always great to hear that other folks love it down here just as much as I do.” He says as Lestat returns, a bottle of wine and a glass in his hand. You take the glass from Lestat and thank him as he pours you a drink. He sits back down and you sip your wine. 

‘He drugged this.’ Your mind says suddenly. You scoff internally and clear your throat. ‘He did not.’ You assure yourself. ‘But maybe he did.’ Your mind persists.

‘Don’t be afraid. I didn’t drug your drink.’ Lestat’s voice says, but his mouth isn’t moving. It’s just like what happened with Louis. You try not to show your reaction to that happening. But Lestat smiles softly. ‘You’re not imagining things. I am speaking to you directly through your head.’ He says, looking over at Louis.

“How do you do that?” You ask, setting down your glass of wine. 

‘It’s a gift of sorts. The ability to read minds and speak to people through our minds, with limitations of course.’ Louis says, making you look over at him. You shudder a slight breath, thinking over everything that you’ve thought around them the whole night. 

“I don’t mean to be rude but I don’t exactly like the idea of you two being in my head.” You explain, pausing for a moment before you think in your head ‘You can read my mind but I can’t read yours?’ 

‘That is correct.’ Lestat sends back to you. ‘We can read your mind but we cannot read each others, and you cannot read ours. We have our limitations.’ 

“It scared me too at first.” Louis says, putting a hand on Lestat’s knee, “But I soon learned to let go of that fear.” You nod your head and try to keep your inner monologue quiet, trying to only think in pictures of what’s in front of you. 

“You wanted to meet us alone tonight.” Lestat says, putting an arm on the back of the couch, slightly embracing Louis as he does this. You stare back at him and his bright blue eyes, something hiding inside of them. 

“You say that as a statement not as a question.” You reply slowly, taking off your suit coat at the sudden rising heat in the room. 

“You’re very easy to read.” He says back, a small, slightly smug smile on his face. You feel something bubble up inside of you now. Your thoughts moving back to Oscar, the man you left behind in New England. 

‘Who is he?’ Louis asks, drawing your attention back over to him. That gnawing feeling coming back, your heart beating faster now. All those memories, your family, the blood, the pain, the shouting.

“Good thing I’m not an actor.” You joke, ignoring Louis’ question while trying to lighten the mood as you start to unbutton your suit vest, still feeling that heat rising up in the room. 

“You don’t need to act around us chéri.” Lestat says, tilting his head slightly as his smile grows. But all you can hear is that pounding of your heart in your ears and the words of your father. 

‘No son of mine is going to be a sodomite faggot!’ His words ring in your head and you wipe sweat from your brow. Louis and Lestat look back at each other before looking back at you again. 

‘Was that your father?’ Louis asks inside your head again. You don’t reply, instead you just sink your fingers into the cushion of the couch beneath you. 

‘If I ever see you near that man again I’ll castrate you before taking you to the fucking police!’ His voice rings out into your mind again. 

‘Can you hear me?’ Lestat asks, his lips not moving again. Suddenly you notice the fire slow into a stop, the flames still there but they don’t move, the sounds of the streetcars outside quiet, the ticking of the clock is silent. You realize nothing is moving, or making a sound. The only things not affected seem to be you, Lestat and Louis. 

“What is happening?” You mumble to yourself. 

“Are you alright Y/N?” Louis asks again, this time his mouth actually moving.

At that you rise up from your seat, putting on your vest and suit jacket, not bothering to button it up. As you stand everything goes back to normal. The flames in the fireplace flicker and the carriages outside make their noises as they roll down the street.

“I just remembered I have work early in the morning tomorrow. I need to be leaving now.” Both men watch you, staying seated where they are. 

“Yes well, don’t be a stranger.” Lestat says. Louis is unable to get in a goodbye before you grab your coat and hat and leave their townhouse. Whatever kind of thing they’re doing with you, you know it’s not good. Anyone but Mary Ann finding out what happened in New England is a death sentence. Let’s hope you can avoid being alone with them ever again. 

[blaxcunicorn]

One-shot

Heeey! I just wrote something random as I felt a bit inspired after reading Just kids by Patti Smith. I have been busy with my exams which is why I've been gone for so long but we back!

Content: fem!reader, NSFW warning, Rockstar Eren before fame, friends to lovers, poverty

You hissed as you cut your pinky finger on a thorn while making a flower bouquet for a customer. You sucked it up and gave the sweet lady her bouquet with a smile. “It’s perfect, thank you. My daughter is going to love it.” She smiled. Her smile warmed your heart. Being a florist wasn’t the most fulfilling job, but making people like her smile motivates you. Well, that and putting food on the table. You grew up in the city's poorer side, so there weren’t many opportunities for you after high school. The florist job was the best thing you could find, it isn’t all bad, the owner has been nothing but kind to you. You heard the doorbell ring as Mrs Johnson came walking into the shop with bags that smelled like heaven. She and her husband owned the bakery next to the shop, and they would always bring you the leftovers of the day. “Here, my love, it’s not that much, but hopefully, it is enough for a day.” She smiled gently. You opened the bag; it was a sandwich, a croissant, and a whole loaf of bread. “This is more than enough, thank you.” You said gratefully, setting the store ready for closure. 

You walked into your tired apartment building, greeting the tired landlord who was seated at his usual desk spot. He gave you a sad smile as you stood outside your brown door with an eviction note taped on it. They were increasing the rent, and you were already struggling to meet the current increase of the last one. You had to sell your bed in order to afford last month’s payment. You opened the door to your small yellow-walled studio. You put the bakery bag on the counter, grab the sandwich, and cut it in half, leaving the other piece on the plate. As you sat down with your sandwich, you noticed a pair of pants with holes on the left knee on the table. You shook your head and pulled out your sewing equipment. As you almost finished stitching the pants, you heard the familiar sound of the heavy steps of construction boots.

Eren entered the room, greeting you with a warm grin. “Man, I’m exhausted, Gold, but how was your day?” He asked, putting his yellow helmet on the counter. He has called you Gold since childhood, which you never entirely understood. You and Eren grew up as neighbours in the very same building. You lived in another apartment with your grandmother, and Eren lived with his parents. Life dealt the two of you shitty cards, and Eren’s mother was killed in a robbery gone wrong when you were only five years old. His father passed away from a heart attack when he was fifteen, and he had to drop out of school to find a job. Your grandmother didn’t have the financial means to help him, but she would cook him meals as often as possible. Unfortunately, that didn’t last long, as she passed away when you were sixteen. Eren offered you to move in with him so that you didn’t have to drop out like him. Mrs Johnson, who was your grandmother’s friend, helped you get a part-time job as a florist. You managed to finish high school, and well here you are. 

“Hello, Gold. Are you okay?” He asked, looking concerned. You jump a little as you had zoned out, I mean, how could you not? The construction job had made Eren quite built, he literally looked like a Greek God. “I’m fine, sorry. Just a little tired, that’s all.” You smiled while finishing the pants throwing it at Eren. “Thanks, you’re the best!” He grinned, caught it, and grabbed the other half of the sandwich. His smile disappeared the moment he came closer. He held your hand and stroked your finger with his thumb. “Don’t worry, I just cut myself a bit at work”, you smile, trying to ease the tension. Eren doesn't respond, his eyes are focused on the scar. “I will provide you a life where you don't have to take jobs that will leave you scars” he muttered. “Huh?” You said, looking confused. “Nothing..Hey, I brought a surprise!” He grinned, pulling out two bottles of cheap white wine. “What are we celebrating?” You smile, folding his pants. “The guys and I finished fixing the van! We are leaving for LA  by the end of next week!” He said excitedly, pulling out two plastic cups. You swallowed hard but tried to put on a smile for him, although your eyes were stinging. 

Eren learned how to play guitar from Armin’s grandfather at the age of fifteen. He owned an instrument shop and noticed that a couple of kids were interested in the instruments. It was first Connie who came in looking at the drums. Armin’s grandfather sat the bold boy down and taught him how to play the instrument. The second time Connie came, he brought his friend Jean. Jean was mesmerised by the beautiful black and white bass. Which after a few weeks, it became his best friend (after Connie, ofc!).

 Lastly, we have Eren, he was on his way home from work when he saw Armin’s grandfather struggle with some boxes. He offered to help, which the elderly man accepted. One of the boxes contained a black electric guitar. Armin’s grandfather offered Eren to try it out as he saw his green eyes glow at the sight of it. Weeks later, he introduced the three boys to his grandson Armin who could play both keyboard and guitar. The boys quickly became friends and started playing together in the evenings. Armin’s grandfather believed that it was better for the boys to be distracted from the crimes in the city, and what better distraction than music? The elderly man passed away four years later. From there on, the boys knew that they wanted to start a band and make it out of the city. They found an abandoned van that they spent a year fixing with the help of Jean’s mechanic background. The plan was to use the van to drive to LA and sleep in it if they couldn't afford a Motel. Now it being done meant that Eren would soon leave to follow his dreams. 

You took the cup, he offered you, “Cheers to you for making it in LA!” You said, smiling. “Cheers for the two of us making it in LA!” The Chestnut-haired man said, correcting you. “Us? As in..” 

“Would you think that I would leave you behind in this shitty city?” Eren asked, looking at you like you had stated something silly like the moon was made out of cheese. “Yeah, I mean…ehm”, you played with your fingers. The guys always referred to you as their fifth member. You weren't a direct member of the band, but you had sewed them a few pieces to wear when they’d do free bar performances. “I could never leave you behind, it’s you and me against the world. Like it always has been.” He grins, toasting his wine before downing it in one go. It warmed your heart to know that Eren would never forget about you. After finishing the bottles, the two of you are pretty drunk. “Eren, could you please play something for me?” You ask, batting your eyelashes.

You look so damn cute drunk. How could he say no? “Sure, what song?.” He says, picking up his guitar. “This Charming Man!” You say excitedly. You danced to Eren’s angelic voice, “Ah, a jumped-up pantry boy who never knew his place!” You shout, and Eren gets up and dances with you. One day, I will write you a song that will make you dance like that, he thought to himself.  The two of you danced like you had no care in the world, as putting food on the table was not an issue, as you weren’t surrounded by crime and death. 

The two of you lie in bed, dizzy and out of breath but happy. You turn your bodies to face each other. “Eren, did you mean it when you said that it was the two of us against the world?” You ask for reinsurance. “Of course I did, I can’t imagine any other woman by my side but you.” The alcohol in his system was exposing him. You smiled while massage his ear lobe. “Is that so?” You whispered, dying of happiness on the inside. He doesn’t respond but looks at you like a lovesick crackhead. Your cheek burned, and you turned your head to face the cracking roof in embarrassment. 

Eren cupped your cheeks, forcing you to face him again. You leaned into the warmth of his rough hands. “What am I to you, Eren?” Your lips were almost touching, and the smell of wine filled your nose. He leans in and kisses you passionately. His lips were a big contrast to his hands. You felt a needy heat growing between your legs, it seemed like Eren was reading your mind as he slid his two fingers under your dress. “Already wet for me?” He whispered. “Yes,” you whined.

 Eren removed your dress and underwear, and you hissed in the chilly air. Eren doesn’t break eye contact with your as he spreads your legs and gives your cunt a long lick from the bottom of your vulgar, covering his tongue with your sweet juices. “God, Gold…you…taste…so…good”, he whispered, diving into your cunt. “Ah, Eren” you moan. You were confident that your neighbour Eric on the other side of the wall heard you.

 All Eren cared about right now was to make you cum, to release you from all the stress from your everyday life. "'I’m gonna cum," you whimpered, realising all over his mouth. “Good girl”, he whispered, kissing you, letting you taste yourself. “Eren, can you please fuck me?” you asked pathetically. He flipped you on your stomach. He leaned over and growled in your ear, “You don’t have to ask me twice. Get on all fours,” and kissed your back. You did what he demanded, feeling shivers all over your body.

 Eren collected cum from your vagina and smeared it all over his veiny cock. He gripped tight around your hips and hissed as he was entering you. Eren pumped slowly back and forth, the air was filled with your moans as your pussy was getting used to Eren’s colossal size. “Fuck”, he moaned as he started speeding up, digging his finger further into your flesh. “Gold, fuck me back. Fuck your cock back, it’s all yours”, he growled. Being the obedient woman you were, you threw your ass back. “Harder” he demanded, spanking you. “Ah, fuck Eren”, you moaned as your arms gave up on you and collapsed on the bed. That didn’t stop Eren as he lifted your hips and placed his cock inside of you. “Fuck, your pussy feels good. Keeping this from me for six years,” he groaned, continuing fucking you. Your face was on the pillow, which was a good thing as you were a moaning mess. 

Your eyes teared up as you felt your second climax blossoming. Eren could tell as you clenched around him, “Give it to me, give it to me.” He growled, feeling you squirt all over him. “Gold, I’m not finished. Take this cock.” He demanded, filling the air with your whimpers and the sound of your skin slapping. You used the last energy to get on all fours again, fucking him back “Ah, fuck! You want me to get all out, too, all this fucking frustration. Fuck it all into you.” He groaned. “Yes”, you moaned, throwing your ass back. His thrusts became rigid and slow as he was filling you up. 

Eren collapsed on the bed next to you while catching his breath. He kissed your forehead before you went to the toilet to pee. You walked out to see Eren comfy in bed. You lay down beside him, and he wrapped his arms around you. “Eren, you never answered my question, " you said, turning to face him. I’m in love with you, silly. Always has been, and always will be.” He said, yawing.

[tswaney17]

Obessesion

Azriel loved everything about Elain.

He loved her smile.

He loved the brightness of her eyes.

He loved how she had such a warm and caring heart.

But he was obsessed with her neck.

He thought it might be that deep Illyrian instinct inside of him that came roaring to the surface whenever she bared the pale skin of her neck for him. A desire to lap at the delicate flesh with his tongue after he brutally bit it until a bruise blossomed from his machinations.

Azriel loved to mark her body with his bites. Loved how beneath the modest gowns she donned, she wore his claims like brands on her skin.

Boldly.

Proudly.

She loved being ravished by his mouth. Could settle on his lap or beneath him for hours as he let his teeth and tongue taste every inch of her body.

Nobody knew that under her clothes she was always peppered by a garden of black and blue and purple from him. Flowers upon her skin, some freshly bloomed while others had slowly begun to wilt away.

He smiled every time she undressed in front of him as he counted the bruises still visible upon her flesh.

Tonight was no different.

They were sequestered at the Townhouse, riding out a bad snow storm. Azriel had barely been able to arrive before the worst of it hit, kicking the front steps to dust snow off his boots before entering the warmth of the house.

Elain, as usual, was found in the kitchen, a spread of baked goods surrounding her on the marble counters. She smiled at him, a slash of brilliant white between pink lips. “You made it. I was afraid the storm might have kept you away,” she said, pulling a loaf of fresh baked bread from the oven.

Az leaned a hip on the doorway, brushing loose snowflakes from his thick hair. “Nothing could keep me away from here, beautiful. But it does look like we’ll be stuck here for a few days.”

A pretty blush dusted her cheeks at the endearment. “How awful,” she muttered, lips turning up at the corners. “Whatever will we do to pass the time?” Those dark eyes went molten under his heated stare.

He beckoned her with a crook of his finger, taking her hand when she approached and guiding them to the sitting room, Elain perching on his lap.

“I say,” he began, running his hands up and down her body, feeling the cotton fabric beneath his scarred fingers. “We take all the time in the world to enjoy the company of your bed.”

Elain’s body shuddered in response and she leaned forward slightly, providing him prime access to that perfect neck. “Why don’t you give me a little preview of what to anticipate?” she murmured, voice husky with need.

Twisting her hair around his fist for leverage, he brought his mouth to her skin. Felt her pulse flutter beneath his lips.

A soft kiss. One to just tease her a bit. Then another, this one more insistent. And another, until his teeth scraped over neck, sucking the flesh between them and biting.

Elain moaned, hands bracing themselves on his strong shoulders. Her hips wiggled on his lap, grazing his growing erection.

Fuck, she always felt so good. Tasted so sweet.

He released her neck, licking the hurt away before drawing the same spot back into his mouth. He’d work the same area over and over again into the night. Until he was sure it’d take at least a week for it to even begin fading.

Because Elain wearing his marks on her skin, on her neck…yeah, that was his obsession.

~~~~~

I finally wrote something. 😭 This was just a quick phone fic, but I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve actually written something. Please lord, let this be my comeback. 🛐🙏