#spirits of the great seven au

[yanderenightmare]

i love your hybrid au sm! the way you characterise each animal to suit not only it’s species, but the characters itself is so creative and nothing short of genius! so it got me thinking, how would you imagine the bnha characters as mythical creatures and monsters ??? ( eg. vampires, wendigos, harpies, werewolves ) etc.

Katsuki, Tomura, Hawks, Deku, Shoto, Dabi

TW: implied noncon, yandere, the supernatural?

gn reader

Shigaraki Tomura Ghost

You’ve moved into his old room, and though you furnish it a bit differently than he did when he was still alive, you’ve placed the bed in the exact same spot. It’s been all dust and dead moths up until now, it almost feels like he’s alive again as he sleeps next to your warm body.

It’s only small things in the beginning. Underwear that goes missing, unexplainable handprints on the foggy shower doors, your duvet on the floor even though you’ve never been one to kick it off in your sleep.

You’ve never been one to believe in the paranormal either, but something convinces you to search up the history of the house. You find out a boy had murdered his entire family here—parents, grandparents, his sister—and that the boy himself was never found.

Obviously, you shut your laptop with a bang and try and will it away from your mind. It happened years and years ago—whoever that boy was, he was long since dead. But the more it starts sinking in that you’re not alone, the more your belief feeds him—makes him feel real again, as though you’re slowly bringing him back to life.

Sometimes, you spot him in the mirror of your vanity, but when you twist around, there’s no one there. But you feel him—the gust of cold breath giving you goosebumps, the weight of hands and a chest pressing against yours at night, and the brush of coarse fingertips touching you in places—places that have you moaning his dead name.

Bakugou Katsuki Demonic spirit

He enjoys large houses—preferably something with a bit of history. But every now and again, some moronic humans decide it’s time to wreck the old and build something new—which means he’s often on the move.

He doesn’t mind living alone in his new house until you move in. He’s a little mad at you at first—he thinks you’re one of those wreckers, what with your renovations and whatnot—but then he understands that you’re preserving, not destroying. Apparently, the Gothic manor is your ancestral home built by one of your great-grandparents seven generations back in the 18th century—seems you were the only descendant who felt it was worthwhile to keep. 

He wouldn’t normally stay when someone else moved in—he’d often use his demonic means and scare them on their way. But with you, he settles for dwelling in the shadows, in the many dark rooms you haven’t found a use for yet. But when night comes, and you turn off the lights and go to bed, he can't help but end up in your room—watching you sleep, oh-so-peacefully and blissfully unaware of his presence. But he won’t do anything to you even though he could, even though you make it so easy—he’s grateful to you, his little housemate.

Your bedroom becomes awfully hot at night—you can’t explain it. Nor can you explain why the wind howling through the house sounds more like the groaning breaths of a beast. All you know is that your bed feels heavier than it should if you were the only one in it—and that you don’t dare twist around to see what it is sleeping next to you because whatever it might be, you don’t think it’s human.

You know it isn’t human. It’s too big to be, and its hands are too warm and too rough—and its claws too sharp where they rake into your skin and tuck you close to a chest that feels as though engulfs you. You don’t think it has a heart, only a stomach—and it sounds hungry.

You read up on sleep paralysis demons, and it brings you peace of mind, but only until night comes and you go to bed in wait. It’s the first time he talks to you. His laugh is like rusted clockwork, and his voice is like raked coals—hot and scratchy against your ear as he tells you how your human ways of rationalizing the things you don’t understand are cute and amusing.

Keigo Takami - Hawks Guardian Angel

Being a guardian angel has always been a fun hobby of his ever since the creation—he’s found it to be a nice break from all the other angelic duties he has bearing down his wings. Of course, it’s always sad when your human dies, but luckily, there’s always another one not far behind to steal your halo all over again.

You’re his most recent. He watches over you any minute he can spare, chuckling over all your silly human antics. And though he’s had plenty of humans before you in the long history of man and God, he can’t help but confess you’re his favorite so far. You’re just so cute with your big, adorable eyes and pretty smile.

He begins taking greater pride in his responsibility of being your guardian. He used to see it as but a menial little task he could take to when feeling up for a laugh, but something about you makes him want to watch over you every single second of every day.

And so he does—he has the feathers to spare, especially for something so important. But soon, simply watching over you doesn’t feel like enough anymore.

He knows it’s wrong—so very wrong—so much so he’s afraid he’ll be cast out if anyone were to find out. It’s not right for angels to feel amorous for humans—most would call it deviant and demonic. But he can’t help himself—watching you in your vulnerable state while you undress, bathe, and sleep.

Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

Maybe he’ll come to visit you one of these days.

Midoriya Izuku - Deku Hybrid between fae and troll

He protects the forest and nurses all sick and wounded animals back to health, writing down the condition of trees and brushes in his notebook as he wanders for hours until he falls asleep in a moss bed beneath the stars. And though he knows his responsibility is purely to the forest, he can’t help but feel inclined to keep an eye on the little human who lives just beyond it. You’re just so cute with the way you walk the forest and sing songs you think no one hears—wearing your human clothing and living in your human abode behind walls and a door. He just finds it absolutely fascinating. 

Sometimes, you feel like there’s something following you when you walk about the forest next to your house. You’ll turn around to see a cluster of rocks and greenery you could have sworn weren’t there when you walked by—you look away before allowing yourself to think the pile looks an awfully lot similar to a larger human’s huddled form. But sometimes you hear it—the sound of stone scraping methodically, as though walking. You don’t humor the thought until you start finding his footprints outside your house, on the path to the forest—feet thrice the size of your own and sunken as though made by something very heavy.

Your legs go out from beneath you once you first see him—not like those times you’d turned around only for him to pretend to be part of the earth—this time, he’s pretending to be more like you, and it only makes it all that much worse. He’s bigger than a bear, grey-skinned with flecks that remind you of freckles and hair like fresh moss sprouts. His eyes are as green as the fox-fire fungi when night falls—glowing with nocturnal light. When you try to run, he follows suit, making the ground shake so bad it knocks you over. 

He carries you into the mountain where he lives and keeps you there from then on. After all, the part of him that’s fae has considered you his pet from the moment you took a bite of your first forest fruit. It was his gift to you whether you knew it or not, and now you’ll belong to him forever.

Todoroki Shoto Vampire

It’s an awfully boring world. Not much to do when you feel you’ve done it all twice over. The taste of blood has become stale no matter how many different types he drowns himself in at night. Sometimes, he humors the thought of setting his manor ablaze if only to watch the fire roar until the sun rears the top of the roof and finally puts him to eternal rest. But he’s been thinking about it for two or more centuries already, and he’s beginning to doubt his nerve.

Dead things can’t make vows, so he must go on as he decided to when he was still alive—that’s the curse—only another person can break it.

You seem doable enough when you stride into his manor with your little sharpened sticks and silver daggers. It’s been a while since a hunter has graced his presence. The scent of holy water makes him lick his fangs, and the nearly irresistible urge to drink you dry almost has him pouncing on you—but he knows it would be but a fleeting high unworth it in the end when he’d have to live another millennium without the warmth of the sun or another soul.

He drops down before you with grace. You have the tip of your silver dagger pointed up under his chin in the same second but get stunted by his pale porcelain face, showing no signs of aggression and rather riddled with a bleak sort of melancholy you’re not used to seeing on the godless creatures.

He simply stands there, straight-spined and high-headed, with his hands folded behind his back as though showing you respect—and then, unprompted and to your great surprise, asks if you would please make it quick and put him out of his misery.

Todoroki Touya - Dabi Hyrbid between incubi and vampire

He preys in nightclubs on those who have that mischievous glint in their eyes in dire hope their lust can match his. Every day, it’s a dozen new—he can never seem to find the right one—always starving and never sated no matter how much he gorges himself, always thirsting, always dying for more. 

Until you.

You’re but a dainty wallflower who doesn’t want to be there, but you have this scent about you—garden-fresh, like something he’s never smelled before, and his tongue yearns for a taste. He knows what it is once he gets closer to you—the opposite of sin of all things, it’s innocence, and oh, how he craves to devour it whole.

His silver tongue has had so much practice that using it on your gullible ears makes him all but drool, asking you if you’d like some fresh air. You nod your head, big eyes looking at him as though he were some sort of saint for offering. He laps it up—it’s all he can do to pace himself. But when he has you alone, it’s all over for you.

He’s going to corrupt every last piece of you until that once peachy keen taste of innocence has become an ever sweeter taste of syrupy sin. He’s going to make you exactly like him—and your tall fall from grace will leave you blasphemous and beautiful.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[viaviavie]

a painted white rose, still so red

in which ace has seen you in his dreams too many times.

SUMMARY: it should not be his unique magic at all. it couldn't be. for whatever sick joke this was, ace has come to known you before anything has happened. he swears he has been here before, said these same words, and moved through these same sequences. if such was true, then the last thing he would ever want to see was you entering diasomnia for lilia's party.

PAIRINGS: ace trappola x fem reader

WARNINGS: prefect dies multiple times, angst, time-loop au, book 7 spoilers

He swore that you were crushed under the Red Tyrant’s heels before his very eyes. 

Ace still remembers that image of your horror-stricken expression before it all went dark, the way your hand was outstretched to him in a desperate attempt to be saved. Of course, he does recall reaching out towards you as well, fingers barely touching as the splatter of ink splashed across his face. You couldn’t have known Riddle’s strength. After all, you did come from another world beyond the mirrors. If Ace hadn’t provoked him with that punch, maybe you would have lived then.

And yet, you sit across from him sipping tea beside the very queen that took your life. Both of you were laughing too, and whatever remnants of the tyrant remained in Riddle, were merely washed away. The scent of ink is gone from his nose, replaced by the faintest scent of cakes and teas. You were alive and well today, as you were yesterday, and the day before that.

“Ace?” 

He snapped out of his trance, only to meet your concerned gaze. You tilted your head at him with a small smile. “You’re going to spill your tea.” Alarmed by the sensation of hot droplets falling on his trousers, the redhead hissed and patted away the heat. Everything is alright once he sees your smile, followed by that mischievous gaze that you rarely held for him. You were always much more careful after all, it was no wonder that Ace and Deuce were often under your watch. Scowling at your amused smile, Ace ran a hand through his hair and reached out towards you, pinching your cheek slightly while Riddle was not looking. His spirits had returned as he heard a childish whine leave your lips, manifesting as a slight curl of his lip.

“Yeah, yeah. Kinda hard to laugh like that, don’t you think?” You pout at him and take a quick glance at Riddle, almost tempted to tattle until a hedgehog finds its way into your hands.

It was only a dream, and you were still there.

A few nights later, he dreamt of your sullen expression fading away into sand. Akin to a stone sculpture, your body was frozen in time. Save for your head, you glare at someone with utter defiance and anger. Your wrist clutched by a clawed figure, you screech and screech until your throat is reduced to dry particles that soon faded into the air. Ace couldn’t hear a single thing that was leaving your mouth, but he does watch as you face him with frightened eyes. Along with that dirty tornado behind you, you were no longer where you stood and Ace found himself screaming in the fray. How he wished that he had the power to knock that blotted lion into the dirt, make him know what it is like to disappear from existence with a single touch of a hand. Ace gets closer and closer, pen aimed at those white fangs until he is back in his room with sunlight blinding his sight.

All it took were a few minutes to call you, and find relief in the fact that you were in your potions class and he was late. It was only a dream, and you were only there.

There was a certain point when he had a certain feeling that told him to not associate with the Octanivelle Housewarden. Something very sinister was hiding underneath those piles of contracts sitting at his desk, and Great Sevens, did Ace regret ever signing those contracts. Hiding away his shame and that slight tinge of paranoia, he could only sheepishly smile at your disapproving expression when he comes to admit that he enlisted Azul's help to cheat for the upcoming exam. Everything should have been alright, and you would have saved the day with the wits that got you out of the toughest of spots.

But when Ace swears he heard your spine snap in two when Azul's tentacles had squeezed around you so tight, the world had ended then. You looked so peaceful with your head lulling with the water currents, eyes shut as if you were asleep. You wouldn't hear Ace's gurgling screech through the water anyways.

And yet, you did.

"Ace! Ace! Wake up!" A hand clutching at his chest, Ace staggered awake with a frightened expression. His vision began to unblur, returning him to Crewel's classroom, eyes fixated on him, and most importantly, a very irritated Crewel. "Napping again, are we, Trappola?" Ace couldn't even gather the nerve to give a witty retort as he faces you from across the room. Your expression held concern, even worry.

Gritting his teeth, the frazzled redhead stood from his desk, muttering an apology before he left the room. Later, he tells you to get out of his head with a slight shove before retreating to Heartslabyul.

Ace found it extremely difficult to look at the Octanivelle Housewarden in the eye without fighting the urge to lunge at him.

It was only a dream, and you were still here.

Sometimes, the daydreams invade Ace’s mind more than he would have liked. There are days when he pauses midconversation as pictures play out in his head. 

They are not always so frightening. Suddenly, he knows how to dance without ever having to practice. Who would’ve known that he was decent at singing too? No one recalls those nights spent in your dorm, that beautiful show put on with the help of the Pomefiore students. He knows that you spend some nights with the Prince of Briar Valley on the Ramshackle Dorm’s rooftop when the moon is out, but you never told him a thing about these escapades. He knows about the mouse in the mirror of your shared bedroom. He knows that you like to have your hand held when Grim is nowhere to be found. He knows your smile and laughter in ways that no other student did, only when they were directed at him. All these hints of knowledge, and yet he knew before you even told him about any of them.

For all that it was worth, it appeared that you weren’t the magicless student that everyone believed you to be.

And Ace wished that you were nothing more than a magicless student. If only you weren't so sacrificing and kind to him, to Deuce, to Riddle, to almost every single person you have met. Stupid prefect, why can't you just save yourself instead of trying to save others?

He ponders on the question as he stares at your bored expression, fixated on the rackety ceiling of the Ramshackle dorm. Ace finds himself on one side of your creaking mattress, digging crescent marks onto his skin. Grim's snores were far away onto that little loveseat, and Ace knows that he won't be waking from his deep slumber. His heart ached and hung desperately from his ribcage as he watched you shift and sigh.

Ace feared that if he dreamed, it would be of nothing good.

"Ace, you're weirding me out." With a confused blink, Ace furrowed his eyebrows as you turned to face him with a concerned expression. "I know that the winter break is coming up, but don't you think you're acting a bit too clingy?"

"—ack!?" Choking on air, Ace's eyes widened at your accusation before he sat up, misplaced offense written all over his face. You continued to stare at him, seemingly unfazed by the thought. "You are acting clingy! You've been coming over for the past three weeks, and Riddle tells me that you haven't done anything to avoid your own dorm as of late."

Finally, both of you are seated upwards. You couldn't help but feel his leg align next to yours, his foot subconsciously playing with your own. Ace does everything he could to avoid looking you in the eye, prompting himself to turn away with a bitten lip. "I'm not being clingy. Don't get your hopes so high, prefect." You don't react to the way he spits out those words in such an abrasive tone. Instead you smirk at him, shaking your head as you lightly knocked your head against the wall.

"Aww, are you going to miss me when you go back home? I didn't know you cared about me that much, Ace."

"I don't! Shut up!" Ace's shout was shrunken down to a whisper as you both eyed Grim who happened to stir in his sleep. With a strained sigh, Ace scowled and nudged your shoulder with a harsh finger. "You don't get it, prefect. This is your fault." He clenched his jaw at the way you looked at him with such offense, but yet so softly as if you understood. "How is this my fault? I don't remember asking you to be my shadow." You whispered. Ace hates how he knows that you're smiling despite how dark it is. He has seen that smile and heard that voice together in those false memories that haunt him at night.

Clicking his tongue, Ace yanked your shoulder downwards back to the mattress. Forcibly tucking the blanket in, he sneered at you in annoyance. "You can't talk. You're the one talking to a weird stranger in the middle of the night. If Deuce and I never caught him that one time—" He paused and sighed before cutting that conversation short. Cheeks dusted pink, he grabbed the blankets and turned his back on your figure.

"Forget it. I'm gonna tap out now."

Ace is grateful that you never push him too much whenever he acted out like this. You do ask, and share your curiosities from time to time, often asking 'why'. This was an occurrence in which you let him be, only letting out that hum he had grown so accustomed to hearing in the day and night.

Feeling your calf brush against his, Ace stilled as his heart was flooded with relief and embarrassment. He shouldn't be thinking much about the idea of sharing a bed with you. It's no different from sharing a bed with a friend. No one can tell him why he feels both erratic and at peace when he feels your warm skin against his. He hates it. He hates every single bit of it. He hates you. He hates how you haunt his dreams. He hates how you haunt him in the day. He hates how you can never leave his head, and hates that—

"Ace?" His heart clenches once more at your sleepy murmur. He has yet to turn around and face you. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for keeping me company, but I can take care of myself! I can handle everything."

Of course, you could handle everything. Who do you think protects you? Who do you think has this weird ability to see the future and fix it before it ever happens?!

Ace remains silent, staring into the shadows as he attempted to force himself to sleep. Everything would be fine tonight. He won't let anything happen to you, not while you continue to haunt his dreams.

That night, he dances into a poisonous fog and with a prefect decaying in his arms.

That morning, he wakes up holding you a bit closer than he would've wanted to. It is only a dream, and you are still here.

It was snowing when he finally questions why he cared so much.

He should have trusted his gut when something was screaming at him to stay. He should have known something was wrong when all he dreamt of was sand piling up in a container.

Stay.

Stay.

Stay.

Perhaps if he dreamt a bit longer while he was at the college, it might have been enough to make him stay. Only when he was thousands of kilometers away from you, did he finally get the final piece of those dreams of sand.

He prays to the Seven that this was not a cruel joke. You only ever seem to die right in front of him in his dreams. By this point, he believes you are in Scarabia and he wants nothing more than to knock that vice-housewarden down to a peg. At least, that is what he tells himself.

Ace would not be able to handle the idea of you being buried alive in sand.

He still cannot stomach the thought, even now as you fidget on the bench. You are seated closely to him, thick puffy jackets touching as snow continued to flutter down. Deuce had taken Grim to the cafeteria to fill their stomachs. You did not expect Ace to tell you to follow him. Of all the things he could have said, "We need to talk," was the last thing you ever imagined him saying.

Your cheeks are flushed pink, and you cannot tell whether it is because of the weather or if it was over your own thoughts. Ace is too quiet, and just as always, he was avoiding eye contact with you again.

"How is your arm?"

"My arm is doing better. Jamil's overblot episode left a bit of a bruise, but other than that, it's healing."

"That's good."

Silence once more fills the air, save for the winds rustling through the pine trees and the sound of Ace's sharp breaths. You could only watch as his blank expression warps into one of heartbreak as he continued to stare blankly into the distance. His breath continues to shudder and hitch, and you swear it is anxiety as he begins to wince and whimper.

And suddenly, he blinks and he returns to you.

Whatever bravado he had in confronting you was broken down. Your heart ached at Ace's pained expression as he faced you. With a quick shake of his head, he rose to his feet and began walking away.

Concerned, you returned on your feet and gave chase as his steps hastened. "Ace, what's wrong?!" He cannot bear to hear you. He should have found relief in hearing your voice, but he doesn't want to hear. He needs you out of his head, out of his mind, and out of his head. He needs you close, in sight, in his ears, in his mind, and in his heart where he can lock you away forever.

"Ace, wait!" You panted out, reaching your hand out to grab at his scarf. Instead, all you feel is the slip of your toes against ice and you could only prepare to hit those cold shards on the ground— but you don't.

Cold calloused hands grip tightly onto your elbows, keeping you upright as you struggle to regain footing. As you allowed your pounding heart to calm in your chest, you catch a glimpse of Ace's angered expression. "Prefect, you need to be careful!" To your own surprise, your eyes flare with defiance as you pulled yourself out of his grip. "Okay, what's the matter with you, Ace? You've been acting weird since the start of the year." Eyebrows furrowed, you crossed your arms and gritted your teeth. "I think you're being too much. I'm not some glass figure that breaks so easily."

Something inside Ace snaps. In his frustration, his hands lunge out for you once more. Fingers were tightly latched against your elbow, not too harshly, however. He leans in closely to your face, red with exhaustion and exasperation. "Prefect, are you dumb?! This is the fourth overblot you survived and you still think you're invincible?!" Before you could reply, Ace let out a frustrated groan in an attempt to silence you. "What makes you think you can survive a fifth, sixth, or seventh?"

You paused, almost shocked by how Ace's voice seemed to crack at the end of his sentence. Only then, finally you listen and you still. Ace remained fixated on your face, torn between his angered expression and one of heartbreak.

Without warning, his arms wrapped themselves around your body. One arm across your shoulders, the other around your waist, and it is his head that is laid on your shoulder. You couldn’t see his obscured expression this way, but judging by the quietness in his voice, it was anything but insincere. “We can run away. We still have time to run before we even get those invitations to that Diasomnia farewell party.” He takes a moment to realize that he did sound insane. Perhaps you simply thought that this was just another one of his spontaneous ideas for mischief, evoking a dry sigh from your lips. Did you even understand what he was trying to tell you? Deep down, however, the rare gentleness in his tone told you otherwise.

“Ace, what are you—”

You felt his grip on you tighten, seemingly afraid of letting you go in fear that he will never have this chance again. In your melancholy, your hands hesitantly crept up to his forearm, squeezing weakly. “If we get Deuce in on this too, we can take those blastcycles and get the hell out of this island. You won’t have to deal with another Overblot ever again.”

And Ace knows that happy endings exist, and they are not obtained without sacrifice. He thinks about the many times you had to sacrifice your life for even a page of that hopeful fantasy that nobody dies, and it nearly breaks him. The boy didn’t want to think any further of how much more you will have to suffer these mundane motions to achieve the ending you wanted. He had only half a mind with not enough memories to make clear judgements, and yet—

“Ace,”

Had it not been for his attempts to keep himself from caving into his emotions, he would have begged and pleaded at your feet. Even so, he was thankful that the snow continued to fall violently to obscure your vision. You did not have to look at him to know what pained him, however.

He hates the way you hum so nonchalantly, betraying all the other versions of you that have died before his eyes, betraying the seemingly hundreds of you that never woke up from that sleeping spell. Ace already knows you are smiling, just as you have in his dreams. It is that damn smile that kills him.

It was that stupid smile of yours that screamed of nothing but acceptance.

“Don’t you think we’ve already tried that before?”

.

.

.

.

.

.

As Malleus lulls the school to sleep, Ace makes an effort to crawl to your resting body. He fights and fights against the inevitable spell, taking the time to glare at the stunned fae as he pulls himself on the carpet with his nails, all to reach you. Ace never stops glaring as he curls himself against your back, holding you so close to him. Just as sleep finally took over, he buried himself into your hair, the loveliest place to die.

He wonders if you are dreaming right now.

Ace wonders if he ever gets to rescue you in your dreams, as he regrets he could not rescue you from this one.

[letsbangts]

thank you || jjk

⤷ summary: your appreciation for the man you married

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 1.4k

⟶ genre: fluff, married couple au, established relationship au

⟶ content: husband!jk, fratboy!jk briefly mentioned, sweetheart kook that could cause cavities

⟶ warnings: none just pure fluff

a/n: so this is inspired by you may want to marry my husband. hope you enjoy! :) as always hope you enjoy & let me know what you think!

masterlist

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

I have been married to the most extraordinary man for four years. I am planning on many more (a plan that has been in effect since our first date seven years ago and will continue to be). And for that, I feel I should express my gratitude.

Thank you. 

Honestly, I do not know what I am thankful for, for everything, I guess? For him always being there, for him staying by my side. For loving and treating me exactly how I have always wanted a man to. 

Now, you may wonder who this gentleman is, and I am so happy to tell you, Jeon Jungkook.

He was an easy man to fall in love with. I did it in one day.

Let us take a trip down memory lane, shall we? Seven years ago, a young lady struggling with dealing with college and her part-time job gets dragged out by her best friend (I guess I should be thanking her too) attends a year-end party at a frat house one late evening. About an hour later, she bumps into a boy who spills his drink on himself, though all he can do is say to her with the brightest smile: You okay there, Clumsy?

And when she looks up at his face, she realizes that this is no douche frat boy with beer on his shirt, but an unbelievably attractive high-spirited young man. She shyly replies: Yeah, I'm okay. That is when what was supposed to be quick party banter with a stranger turned into a night of great conversation and a polite walk home. That then turned into sweet exchanges of subtle flirtatious texts and small phone calls that had this young lady thinking: Uh-oh, there is something loveable about this person.

As the couple enjoyed many hangouts during the beginning of summer (by the end of the summer, I knew I wanted to marry him) amidst the ever-growing flirting, they finally acknowledged their immense attraction. Then the hangouts turn into dates when that lovely young man finally asks her out. That is when they would have officially kicked off their step from subtle flirting to very blatant obvious flirting—the beginning of a couple that would only continue their journey together.

So that was the start of us.

I am a bit biased, but I will create a list based on my experience of coexisting with him for about 2,556 days on the reasons I am thankful for him and thus love him. The following list of attributes is in no particular order because everything about him is so important to me.

Starting with the basics: His blindingly contagious smile, his gorgeous body filled with pure joy and positivity (and muscle), his adorable fluffy hair that falls over his forehead to match his striking brown eyes, and his effortlessly breathtaking passionate singing, of course.

He always knows how I am feeling and how to match his mood to whatever one I am in. He can read my face with just a simple glance. I have always appreciated how he adjusts his mood to fit my own. If I am in the dumps and his spirits are up, he brings them down to comfort me; even if he is down in the dumps, he lifts his spirits to keep a smile on my face. And for that:

Thank you.

If I could list just one of the things that made me fall in love with him from day one and still makes my heart flutter to this day, it would be his little acts that are natural for him, which shows how much of a gentleman he is. From always opening doors for me, making sure I walk on the inner side of the sidewalk, giving me his jacket to wear, or carrying me into the bed when I fall asleep on the couch. He may not know how much I appreciate the little things, but those little things always remind me I sincerely have the best man out there. 

Silently suffering with the things I put him through that he may not want to do. Sitting through the cliché chick flicks, trailing behind me in the store as I look at three different tops that he says all look great on me but always end up picking the one he can tell I want more, or even giving up his personal space and all feeling in his right arm because he knows I sleep much better entangled with him.

That brings me to something he may not know that I know about him. He holds in a lot more than he leads on. The song he tells me he is struggling to perfect but tells me it is only a little bit of writer's block. Yet I can see in his eyes that it stresses him much more than he says. Yet he is always quick to change topics with a:

How could you have gotten prettier while I was gone?

Or

So tell me about your day. Did anything interesting happen today?

If I did not know him so well, I could have easily missed these things, but I have come to learn about the kind of person he is. He is the type of person who always puts others before himself. He leads himself to take on the role of making sure others around him are okay. He already knows he does not have to hide his worries from me, but Jungkook still always tries to keep the minor worries to himself because he believes they are things I will excessively stress over on his behalf. (and he is right, I would, what can I say I love the guy)

We have come to know each other so well over the years, huh?

When looking for a dreamy, last-minute adventure, he is my man. He always comes with me on random just-cause trips, be it a road trip to the countryside for a break from the city or a train ride to the sea to walk by the shore.

Thank you.

If it is still unclear, here is the kind of man Jeon Jungkook is: He surprised me on my first day at my new job with flowers because he knew how nervous I was. He is a man who is always up early and goes out to surprise me every Sunday morning by putting a different kind of flower on my nightstand with a love note. A man that comes out from the minimart or gas station and says: Hold out your hand. And, voilà, a plastic ring he got from a gumball machine (had that been his proposal, my answer would have been yes).

I am sure you understand what I am trying to say by now, and he already knows how crazy I am about him. Wait! Did I mention that he is incredibly handsome? I will never get tired of looking at his handsome face.

If I am making him sound like a prince and our relationship sounds like a fairy tale, that is not too far off. I consider his proposal one for the books: Ever since you stumbled into my life, quite literally. I have never been able to picture being without you. Will you marry me, Clumsy?

Jungkook, I was serious about what I told you in our vows:

I always want more time with you, Jungkook. I want more time with the guy who takes me to get ice cream in the winter. I want more time sipping beer in bed with my drinking buddy. Although I desire our time together to be endless, we cannot live forever. But as long as I am alive, as long as I am a person on this planet, I will continue to follow you wherever the road takes us. So let us walk it together, alright?

Your dependability and loyalty are the qualities that show you are the most extraordinary husband, the most extraordinary man, and will be the most remarkable father one day. I know you will lead our future family into a lifetime of happiness because that is where you have been leading mine for seven years. I know you will continue to do so.

I will wrap this up because I can go on and on about how you are the most genuine, non-self-oriented gift I could have received. So, thank you for being you. I hope for the day that I get to tell our children about the kind of man their father is, the man Jeon Jungkook is, and about the love story I am honoured to be a part of.

(P.S. That day I mentioned will be coming in approximately nine months!)

With all my love, Clumsy xo

[watermelonlovershigh]

The Rated R Card Game {part 6.} (housemate!harry series)

Returning Favors {part 5.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: this part took me the longest to write because i couldn't get the wording right and kept having to switch things up. this is mainly a filler chapter meaning not much happens but will be needed for context later in the series. i hope you enjoy. let me know what you think. thank you for reading.

This story contains: mentions of bisexuality, mentions of threesomes, mentions of kissing, mentions of mommy and daddy kink, mentions of sexual stuff in general, mentions of a safe word being used, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au!harry }

word count- 1,977

Your friends Mave and Charlotte come over to yours and Harry's house to eat pizza, drink wine, chat, and play a very rated R card game.

Friday has finally arrived and you are filled with excitement. Your friends Mave and Charlotte are coming over to meet Harry for the first time. After spending a few hours working on your computer, you got up and started tidying around Harry's living room, which was already clean as he maintains a fairly tidy house. You took out the card game you intend to play tonight and set it on the coffee table. The only thing left is the alcohol, but Harry will be picking some up on his way home from work.

After leaving the school where he teaches at, Harry drove to a nearby shop and obtained the wine you had requested. You'd asked Charlotte and Mave about their choice of alcohol and they recommended wine to prevent themselves from getting too intoxicated by stronger spirits. Upon arriving home, Harry placed the wine bottles in the refrigerator to chill, and then hurriedly went to take a quick shower.

At approximately seven o'clock, your friends arrived at your home via Uber, as they foresaw the possibility of becoming too intoxicated to drive home later in the night. You introduced them to Harry and they formed a liking to him instantly. In a playful manner, they whispered to you that they may just steal him away from you, that's how much they liked him. Plus, attractive wise, they thought he was hot.

Harry kindly ordered a pizza to the house and the four of you gathered in the living room, indulging in the large pizza accompanied by several glasses of wine. Essentially, you all spent a delightful two hours eating, drinking, and having great conversations in the living room. Mave and Charlotte made quite the impression on Harry. They were incredibly easy to be around and had a remarkable talent for lightening the atmosphere with their jokes, especially during moments of high tension. They possessed a fearless nature and were never hesitant to speak their minds.

Once everyone was stuffed with pizza, you pick up the card game you had sat on the coffee table earlier in the day and announce, "Okay, game time."

"How does this game work exactly?" Harry asks, followed by a giggle. Yep, he was definitely tipsy.

You open the box and pull out the stack of cards. You know there's a correct way to play this game but you wanted to make up your own rules, just to spice things up. "Okay, so basically I'm gonna leave the stack of cards in the middle of the table. We'll each take turns picking a card but to make it fun, we all have to potentially answer every question, no matter who pulled it. Each card has either questions or something we must confess. If you don't feel comfortable answering one then you must take a sip of wine. Got it?"

"Seems easy enough." Charlotte exclaims with a clap of her hands.

"Hey, can I pick first?" Mave asks eagerly and you all agree.

As everyone sits around the coffee table on the floor, Mave reaches for the top card and giggles as she silently reads it. "You've got to actually read it out loud." Charlotte remarks in a sassy tone.

"Okay, okay," Mave retorts before repeating what the card says out loud this time. "Have you ever made out with a guy in the back of a car before?"

You, Mave, and Charlotte each say "yes" with confidence before stealing a glance towards Harry, hoping to gauge his response to the question. To your surprise, he appears bewildered and voices his confusion. "What kind of questions are these? I was expectin' somethin' light-hearted, not about romantic encounters," he queries.

You pick up the game's box and point to the bottom right corner where it shows the R rating. Once he notices, he mutters an, "Oh fuck!", taking a swig of his red wine for dramatic effect. "But um, yes I have."

Charlotte and Mave are surprised to learn that he's kissed a guy. Not in a judgmental way but they are genuinely shocked considering how much you confide in them about Harry's feelings for you. It seems you forgot to mention that Harry was bisexual, but then realize it's not your place to inform them of that anyways. Charlotte boldly questions Harry, "You've made out with a guy before?"

Harry nods his head in agreement and casually states, "Yes, m' bisexual. Y/n didn't inform you of that?" Though he knows one's sexuality isn't something people tend to share, he knew you shared nearly everything with these two friends so he's surprised you didn't let his sexuality slip up in a conversation before. But knowing you didn't share makes him feel all warm inside. It shows how much you care and respect him.

The woman shakes her head to indicate she was unaware. Harry typically never feels anxious about sharing his bisexuality as he finds that most individuals are accepting or simply don't care. Although he occasionally encounters negative reactions, mostly from the people he's seeing, he makes an effort to try and not allow those to affect him.

"My turn," you announce, reaching for the next card to advance the game. "Ohhh, a confession. How intriguing. Do you tend to be more dominant or submissive in bed? Mhm...... as for me, it's quite simple. I can be either, depending on my mood."

"No way," Harry interjects, "m' also a switch. Just depends on the person and the mood m' in at that moment." As you glance at one another, you can feel a secret message being conveyed through just your eyes alone. One that's saying you're meant to be. A perfect match, some would consider. Because it's rare for both people in a relationship to be dominate some times and submissive other times.

Mave and Charlotte affirm they're both complete submissives, leaving Harry to select the next card. "Tell us about the most outrageous experience you've had during a sexual encounter. Uhm, let me think on that for a moment."

"Oh, I know." Mave speaks, "For me, I'd have to say being double penetrated."

"You what?" you gasp at her answer, unaware of this encounter she's had. She usually tells you everything but you guess she's been keeping this one a secret.

With a playful giggle, she admits, "Back in uni, I had a few threesomes, and one of them involved double penetration. It was painful at first but the pleasure that followed was incredible." Her confession triggers a vivid image of you in Harry's mind, arousing him at just the thought of having a threesome with you. But he wonders if you were open to that idea.

"Personally, I tied a man to the bed once and rode him while he wore a cock ring. Although it was pleasurable for me, the man experienced tons of discomfort. So I decided to let him come after an hour." you answer the question. It wasn't super outrageous but you weren't that freaky in bed. Again, all Harry can think about is you doing that to him and at this point he has to set one of the couch pillows in his lap without looking too suspicious. He's now actually hard in his pants.

After thinking for a minute more, Harry's ready to answer. "I guess my answer would be, this one time I let a girl fuck my throat with her strap-on. Let's just say my throat was bruised for days." Fuck, now it's you conjuring up images of possibly doing that to Harry. You don't own a strap-on but you sure as hell would go out and buy one if he agrees.

Charlotte optes to taking a drink of wine instead of answering and then picks a card beings it's her turn now. "Have you ever had to use your safeword during sex? Thankfully no. What about you all?"

Harry and Mave both said no as their answer, whereas you, on the contrary, chose to take a sip of wine. You could have easily said the truth, which would have been yes, but then would've had to provide an explanation for their curious minds. And you'd prefer not to do that in front of everyone, especially as it regards the situation where you had to use your safe word. It evokes a very unpleasant memory. Nevertheless, you can see a compassionate expression on Harry's face and have a feeling he'll bring it up at a later time.

The game continues with questions like, "Where is the most unusual place you have engaged in sexual activity?" "What is your preferred sexual position?" "Have you ever accidentally called out the wrong name during sex?" "Do you secretly have a mommy or daddy kink?" Harry's responses were as follows: in a club bathroom, preferring missionary with women to see their expressions and opting for the doggy style with men, almost moaning the wrong name (which happened to be yours), and has only ever jokingly used the terms daddy or mommy if his partner was interested in that kind of stuff.

Your responses to those particular questions consisted of: the bathtub, missionary or spooning position, almost saying Harry's name but correcting yourself before it was on the verge of slipping out, (though you didn't share to them it was Harry whoms name it was), and lastly, although you're not actually into the whole kink, you've humorously said daddy once to cater to your partner's wishes. Which made you cringe so bad immediately after.

By the time eleven o'clock rolled around, all of you were considerably intoxicated. Though most of you managed to answer every question, you've still been continuously sipping from your wine glasses with multiple refills. In a drunken manner, your friends suggested, "Maybe we should call an umb... uber...."

Rising on wobbly legs, Harry retorts, "Why don't you both stay if you want? I'm sure Y/n wouldn't mind you sleepin' in her bed, and she can sleep with me in mine. That way you won't have to go home drunk." Harry is literally the sweetest.

"You sure?" Mave asks, looking at both of you for confirmation.

You nod, agreeing, "Yeah, yeah. That's fine. Just don't puke in my bed, please." remembering all the times where they've gotten sick from being too drunk.

-------------------------------

With Mave and Charlotte settled in your bed, you made your way to Harry's room across the hall. He was busy arranging the pillows and covers. Just as you were about to join him in bed, you remembered, "Wait a minute, I need to use the bathroom."

Harry bursts into laughter. "Is that so? You didn't realize that when you were in the hallway?"

"Hey, no laughing at me!" You exit the room and hurry to the bathroom located in the hallway. Upon your return, Harry is already tucked in under the duvet, with only the lamp providing a dim light. As you join him, and he reaches over to switch off the lamp.

Now in the dark bedroom, Harry shuffles closer to you for a cuddle and whispers, "You're not gonna puke in my bed are you?"

You playfully swat at his chest and confirm, "No, I'm not that drunk, silly. But I will have a killer headache in the morning. Night."

"Night, sleep tight." Harry leans in and plants a tender kiss on your lips, momentarily catching you off guard. However, you quickly embrace the intimate moment, realizing that receiving these small, affectionate kisses from him for no specific reason is something you should start getting accustomed to. After all, it's a typical aspect of being in a relationship, isn't it?

As you gradually drift off to sleep, your mind becomes consumed by the lingering sensation of Harry's lips meeting yours and the burning curiosity to discuss the explicit answers he provided during the rated R card game earlier.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

Spontaneous Pleasures {part 7.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

[604to647]

Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

First Movement (Adagio sostenuto)

5.5K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: About to make your society debut and enter London's marriage mart, you don't expect an old friend whom you haven't seen in over 10 years to make a surprise appearance at the first ball of the season.

Warnings: None! Fluff! B, C, D, E, F Bridgerton make appearances. It's me so there's a cute nickname (won't spoil). The masterlist includes a few words about how this reader insert is written - essentially, no reader description other than having hair and wearing dresses in the style of this era, reader has a backstory; much of this part is exposition (so maybe a little slow but we'll get there!😊)

A/N: My plan is to post the entire series before Season 3 of Bridgerton airs, because the story is intended to take place in the background of the same season and if things don't make sense after the show comes out then oh well 🤭 I'm also only 2/3 of the way through Julia Quinn's books, so please forgive me if some of my characterizations of the Bridgertons are not wholly correct 🙏🏻

Wonderful Bridgerton inspired dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

Series Masterlist

The Duchess of Hastings stands behind you, admiring the reflection in the mirror of the two of you together, “I dare say, if you had debuted with me during my season, there is a good chance that I may not have been the Diamond.”

“Oh, shush, your Grace,” you make a funny face at her in the mirror, to which she laughs and pokes you in the ribs, “Don’t you start with this ‘Your Grace’ business with me.”

That Daphne Bridgerton is your dearest and oldest friend in England is something you consider to be one of the great fortunes of your life, of which, as the daughter of a Count, you have many.  Violet Bridgerton and your mother, the Countess, had been dear friends and as such, much of your early childhood in England had been spent at Bridgerton House, running around with not only the same aged Daphne, but her elder and younger siblings as well.  The Bridgertons are one of the most beloved families of the ton, their good natured and spirited personalities recommending themselves to everyone, and accordingly, your memories of when your two families would gather remain some of the most joyous of your childhood.

Sadly, your dear mother passed away from illness when you were only seven years of age and your beloved father, who loved her more than life itself, could not bear to stay in England much without her.  The Count was one of several nobles charged with governance of Her Majesty’s Royal Naval Fleet; a gentle man, his purview was primarily diplomatic (as opposed to militaristic) and he thus travelled widely, often and always for long periods of time.

Though he did not wish to remain where so many of his memories dwelled, the Count could not bear to leave his only child behind, and consequently, you had joined your father on his travels.  He proudly raised a cheerful, spirited daughter who loved the seas and adventure as much as she did reading and music.  Your father found that exposing you to and requiring you to immerse yourself in so many foreign cultures at a young age led you to be the most sympathetic and kind hearted child, one who others found easy to converse with and befriend on account of your good humoured nature and open minded heart.  Unencumbered by the rigid etiquette requirements (and dress code!) of British high society, you happily embraced many freedoms that other young ladies of your age and breeding did not have the opportunity to enjoy.  Your father taught you much about the ships and business of the naval fleet, subjects to which you took a great interest; to this day, you know your way around most ships better than some sailors.  The Count was especially proud of your affinity for diplomacy, understanding the importance of fairness and tough negotiation both in foreign matters and managing fleets.  You loved all of it – spending countless hours pouring over maps and letters of diplomatic matters with your father and absorbing all you could; as you got older, you took great pride in the way your father would sometimes seek your opinion and advice on business matters and delighting when he would praise you on your ideas.

While he was unorthodox, your father could not be accused of being neglectful; he would not forgo your formal and societal education, knowing that one day, you would have to return to live in England.  Hiring only the most adventurous and brave governesses to accompany your travels, the Count ensured that your literary, numerical, musical and artistic accomplishments and pursuits could rival those of your peers back home.  You learned to dance the dances of grand balls, though you had only the few foreign dignitary hosted events to practice.  Your only other occasion to practice came when you would return for your infrequent visits to England, reuniting with your beloved Bridgertons to spend nearly all your time catching up and laughing with Daphne and her siblings, and take in what you could of British society before once again being swept away on another ship.  Though brief, these reunions with your friends, coupled with your frequent letters were enough to ensure your friendships remained strong and cherished over the years.

Two years ago, Daphne had made her societal debut, meeting and marrying her love, the Duke, during the marriage season and you could not have been more delighted for your friend.  That season should have also been your debut season, except that you and your father were in the Far East and would not have been able to complete the Count’s business and return in time.  Since you had postponed one year, what was two?  If you had your way, you would have made it three, not eager to give up the life of travel and leisure that you’ve grown accustomed to.  However, when the Queen wrote to ask why the daughter of one of her esteemed Counts has not yet been presented, both you and your father had to regretfully concede that your life as a carefree sea farer was over.

And thus, you find yourself in your present circumstance: in a luxurious silk gown the colour of swan feathers, wearing what might actually be swan feathers in your hair, about to be presented to the Queen before embarking on your first social season.  To be honest, you’re not terribly nervous, save for whatever nerves one always has whenever attempting something new, and you have good reasons not to be.

The first being that you are in the very capable hands of your great friend, the Duchess.  The now Dowager Viscountess had promised your mother that when the time for your debut came, it would be the Bridgerton family’s honour to sponsor you.  If anything, you felt that the honour was all yours – not only were you to have the support and backing of one of the most respected and revered families during your season, you would also be blessed with their company.  As fortune would have it, due to the timing of your debut, Violet had prepared herself to take on the duty of presenting not one but two girls: yourself and her third eldest daughter, Francesca. 

Fearing it was far too much work and pressure, you had assured Violet, whom you loved as a second mother, that she need not fret too much over you; you’re a woman of twenty-three with more world experience than most men twice your age, and encouraged her to focus her attentions on her own daughter.  Violet had been aghast at the implication that she didn’t think of you as one of her daughters, and you were about to be on the receiving end of a scolding that only a mother could dispense when Daphne came to your rescue.  As the Duchess of Hastings, she herself had the right to present young ladies at court, and she declared herself delighted to be your patroness this season.  This was decidedly a win-win; not only could Violet concentrate on Francesca’s prospects, you could now look forward to spending the season with your dear friend by your side.

The second reason you’re not overly anxious is that despite being older than most of the girls debuting at the same time, you know you have plenty to recommend you to potential suitors.  No, you are not terribly conceited nor do you hold your own attributes in such high esteem, but rather, very practically, you know most suitors will not let a small thing such as age deter them from the handsome fortune your father has bestowed upon you. 

The Count was forever exasperated with the shortcomings of the laws of inheritance and how they prevented his one child from inheriting his estate, but he made up for it the best he could with the legal avenues available to him.  First, he set aside a healthy dowry for you, so that you would be sure to attract a similarly healthy crop of high society gentlemen from which to choose a husband.  Second, via his will, you would be provided for for the remainder of your life with a generous per annum allowance that rivaled the income of many estates; you were to want for nothing even if you never married. 

And finally, known only to a select few, your father had a vast investment in an international fleet separate from the naval fleet of the queen; a beloved exploration and trade business venture that was the Count’s passion project - you and him spending many enjoyable hours pouring over the plans and movements of this fleet.  The dividends from your father’s shares went directly into a trust of which you (and any future children of yours) are the sole beneficiary, though the capital had to be held by a man.  It was the Count’s thinking that in addition to the income, it was only fair that you benefitted from a venture that you had invested much of your own heart and time into.  Naturally, being a part of your father’s estate, this investment could be passed down to the next Count (a distant relative), but your father had other plans.  If the intended recipient was willing, you father wanted to sell his shares to his future son-in-law, allowing for the dividends to continue flowing to you and so that you may remain close to the business via your husband’s involvement. 

In other words, there are plenty of reasons that potential suitors who might otherwise be dismissive of your age and lack of societal presence, may find you attractive (the least of which were probably your charm and wit); you can afford to be choosy and you fully intend to be.  And while you’re not quite so hopeful to wish for a great love like that of your parents, or even Daphne and her beloved Simon, you dearly wish for a husband that will understand and respect you; one who will celebrate you for your mind, experience, opinions and all the reasons why you’re different due to having grown up the way you did.

Daphne seems to have high hopes that there will be many potential suitors who will live up to your expectations.  You’re less confident than she, but still more optimistic than not.

Flopping yourself down on the chaise next to Eloise, the two of you heave heavy sighs in unison.  After the nerve-racking presentation to the queen earlier this week, the following days have been a non-stop flurry of ribbons, fittings, etiquette lessons and teas with the express purpose of study in the who’s who of the ton.  In just a few hours, all of Violet and Daphne’s hard work and preparations will be put on display when your contingent attends the first event of the season: the Danbury Ball.

Eloise passes a box of candy to you and you select a treat gratefully.  Though Daphne is your closest friend, you’ve sometimes found yourself having a fair amount in common with Eloise and know her to be a trustworthy confidant; this is one of those times.  While you don’t think you have it in you to hate anything as much as Eloise despises the marriage mart, the both of you at least have the good fortune of being able to be picky with your suitors and moreover, wish to exercise that particular privilege.  For Eloise, marriage is a cage.  For you, it’s the not marriage itself, but a union with an imprudent match that you wish to avoid.  If you can no longer be free to sail the seas and wander through the valleys and streets of the foreign lands that call your name, you must insist that the home you’re being called home to roost is at the very least, pleasant.

“I beg of you,” murmurs Eloise, “Please let all the fashionable young men fill up your dance card so that there shall be none left for me.”

You steal another piece of candy, “I’m afraid there’s more than enough young men to go around, El.  Plus, you really ought to beseech Franny for your request, my dance card may struggle for applicants on account of me being such an old maid,” you giggle.

“None of that negativity now,” chimes in Daphne from the open door, “tonight is full of possibilities.”

During the season, you’re staying at Bridgerton House so to be close to all the finery of dresses, jewels, shoes, ladies’ maids and moral support that you may need.  Your father is staying nearby in another house on Grosvenor Square, and comes by most days to see his daughter and dear family friends for breakfast at the very least.  You have loved your life with your father, but at times like these, when you are laughing at and listening to the loving snipes and bickering of the Bridgerton siblings, you often wonder what it would have been like to have a more traditional upbringing.  Pushing that thought out of your mind, you stand and pull Eloise up with you so that the two of you can follow the Duchess to the next room where you’re expected to choose from the glittering selection of dresses laid out for tonight.

As you lean towards selecting a pretty lavender gown, Daphne fills you in on the processional arrangements for your entrances tonight, “Mama, Franny, Anthony and Kate will take the first carriage, then you, Eloise and I will follow in the second.  We will enter the ball in that order as well.”

“What about Colin and Ben?”

“They’re meeting with some friend from Colin’s travels whom he met in… I want to say Greece?  They will make their own way and meet us at the ball.”  You nod agreeably; as long as everyone is together at some point or another, your first season event will feel a lot less daunting.

---

As you walk into the Danbury estate, you cannot but feel a bit overwhelmed by all the elegance and glamour on display.  Though no stranger to luxury and finer things, it’s not very often that you find yourself amidst so much opulence.  Eyes shining as you take in the finery, your voice is full of excitement and genuine awe as you compliment Lady Danbury and thank her for hosting tonight’s soiree.  Hand clasped tight in Daphne and Eloise’s as you make your way down the main hall to the ballroom, you see Colin further down on the right side of the hallway, waving alongside Benedict.  Waiting by the wall with the Bridgerton brothers is a third gentleman, tall and broad shouldered with soft, curly brown hair who currently has his back to you; Colin has on a mischievous grin and he’s speaking to the stranger quietly, eyes flitting back to you and his sisters periodically as you approach.  This can’t be good, you think with suspicion.  When you’re a few steps away from meeting with the brothers, Colin gives the stranger a slight nod and he turns around; before you even have a chance to look upon the newcomer’s face, you hear a familiar sweet baritone voice say, “Hello, Dulce.”

At first, you’re in shock; the Spanish word for candy is not a nickname people commonly call you and it’s one you haven’t heard in over ten years.  Then joy of recognition and realization overtake you and you completely forget where you are, crying out, “Pero!!!”  Your arms behave of their own accord and fly open to wrap around his neck as you launch yourself into the handsome man’s arms.

He hugs you back firmly and whispers low in your ear, “Happy to see you, too” before releasing you, the both of you immediately stepping apart and drop your hands to your sides, remembering where you are and that the eyes of the ton are always watching.  But you can’t help but beam; nor can you look away from Pero’s face. 

Pero Tovar had been your most constant and beloved friend for many of your happiest childhood years spent abroad.  Pero’s father, a Barón of Spain, was in charge of naval governance for his country in a similar capacity as your father was for England and accordingly, their paths crossed regularly in foreign countries.  Both men of gentlemanly dispositions, the Count and the Barón had forged a deep and lasting friendship as they conducted their business.  Another thing that they had bonded over was the fact that they were both widows who uncharacteristically chose to bring and raise their children with them on their travels. 

So, although Pero is eight years your elder and already in his early teens when you first met, being the only two children of sea loving foreign diplomats in the strange lands you found yourselves in readily recommended you to each other and you had become happy and frequent playmates.  Pero devoted hours and hours to your amusement, allowing himself to play more juvenile games of pretend that he may not otherwise with compatriots of his own age, and with his encouragement you grew to be brave and curious, always wishing to keep up with the older boy.  He helped you with your studies, and you played music for him, learning and mastering the pieces he enjoyed the most.  The two of you shared a love of literature and it became your special version of a traditional hunt in each new country you landed in to find foreign language versions of the other’s favourite books so that you could read the translations alongside your worn English copies.  Some of the most cherished copies of your favourite books, ones you carry with you from country to country still, were gifts from Pero. 

As you got older, your shared adventures expanded to include exploring the streets of new cities, trying local cuisines and frolicking on the beaches of the coasts of Italy, Portugal and even India.  The last time you had seen him, he was a strapping young man of twenty and you had been twelve.  His father was returning to Spain for an undetermined amount of time to deal with affairs of his estate, and Pero would be entering university, having postponed his acceptance for two years already.  Although you had each promised to write, the letters were far and few between and eventually you lost track of Pero – you can hardly blame either of you; you were travelling with your father and not always easy to find, and you didn’t really expect a young man concentrating on his studies to have the time to write to a young girl despite having been her very best friend for so many years.

But now he’s standing right in front of you and you can hardly believe your eyes.  He’s impossibly tall and wide, a far cry from the lanky boy with whom you scrambled over rocks on the beaches of Portugal, but he’s still tanned, leading you to surmise that he must still sail or at least get a healthy amount of sun regularly.  And while his face is older, devastatingly handsome with a cutting jawline partially hidden by untamed facial scruff, he’s completely recognizable to you.  An easy clue is the scar that runs from above his left eyebrow down past his eye, though faded from when you saw it last, but it’s the indulgent smile he’s giving you right now that gives him away to you.

“What are you doing at this ball? Did you know I would be here?” you can’t help but continue to stare at Pero wide-eyed, grinning like a fool.

“Oh!  We made the connection earlier this week at dinner,” chimes in Colin, “We were going to bring him over to the house but thought this would be more fun.”

You make to swat at Colin’s arm. “How did you meet this scoundrel?” you jest, with absolutely no malice in your voice, pointing your thumb at the still laughing Bridgerton brother.  As your group starts to move towards the ballroom, Pero falls into an easy step by your side, “We met when Colin was taking in the crisp sea air of Mykonos, and then again last year in the vineyards of Tuscany.  He made for excellent company after a long day of helping the locals prune grape vines.  Naturally, when I arrived in London for business this month, I had to look him up.”

Daphne is now tugging you towards the ballroom by your hand, and in turn, you’ve grabbed onto and are practically dragging Eloise down the hall with you.  You shout back to Pero, “I want to hear everything!” and can’t help the smile that spreads across your excited face when he nods after you.

“Oh!” you breathe, invigorated from the surprise of seeing Pero, as you come to a stop right before the entrance way.  Daphne smiles over at you, “It was so hard keeping it a secret from you!”

You’re astonished, “You knew about Pero as well?”

“Yes, I thought it might give you an additional boost of confidence to have another friend’s support during your first event.” 

You smile at your sweet friend and squeeze her hand affectionately, “Thank you!  It does and I’m delighted to see Pero again.  But in truth, my confidence could never be lacking when I have a friend like you next to me.” 

Daphne gives you her biggest smile and squeezes your hand right back.  A moment later, the three of you step into the ballroom and meet the gazes of the other attendees as you’re announced.

---

The ball is a whirlwind.  It seems you hardly have a moment to even catch your breath, never mind catch up with Pero.  From the moment you walked in to the grand hall, you were pulled in this direction and then that, introduced to new person after new person, some of whose names were familiar from your visits home over the years, and others only from the copious amounts of study you’ve done on the ton over the past week.  You’ve certainly forgotten all their names by now. 

Then it’s dance after dance after dance with the young gentleman that Daphne parades in front of you.  The dancing itself is quite pleasant and a lovely way to shake out some of your jitters, but you find the small talk hardly enough to get to know your partners, and when the dance is over and you’re once again being whisked away to another introduction or meeting that the Duchess has lined up for you.  The few opportunities you’ve had to take a breather and indulge in a glass of lemonade, you’ve been happy to retreat back to Pero and your small familiar group; but just when you’ve started to entreat your old friend to open up about his adventures since you saw him last, another potential suitor will be introduced and the entire cycle starts over again.

It’s only when you’re halfway through the evening that the frenzy has died down enough that you can observe and be amused by Pero’s behaviour at the ball.  While you’re constantly twirling around the dancefloor, you notice that he never leaves his position against the wall and doesn’t dance at all; he mainly scowls and looks displeased, hardly speaking to anyone other than the Bridgertons or you when you have a free moment.  You feel his eyes follow you as you glide across the dance floor with the young men that have asked you to dance, and even when you’re making your way through the room on Daphne’s arm, meeting and making small talk with the other families of the ton.  When you do happen to look up and search for him, you often find him glowering and looking dissatisfied, though if you catch his eye, his expression will soften slightly. 

Once while you were dancing with Lord Whitfield, you had caught Pero’s eye mid-turn and made a silly quizzical face at him, as if to ask What’s going on with you? and you think you see him laugh briefly before the steps of the dance require you to turn away from him.  You wonder why frowns so fearsomely and if there’s a reason for him to be so stoic and curt with the rest of the ton.  It’s so odd to you as you’ve never had so much as a cross word from him in all the time you’ve known him, not even when you had snuck out of the compound in Singapore when you were nine so you could watch the fireworks display.  Pero had come looking for you, his face serious and eyes panicked when he finally found you in the busy square, but he never once got mad.  Instead, he swore not to tell your father, and promised that if you had wanted to see the fireworks up close, he would accompany you.  And then he did just that the next night and the night after that.  But here, when not engaging the company of his friends, Pero’s countenance is positively sour.  Any hopes harboured by the mamas of the ton for snagging a Spanish nobility son-in-law this season are quickly dashed.  Barón Tovar is decidedly not here to find a wife.

With the evening more than half over, you realize that unless you make the point to do so, an opportunity to speak more than a few minutes with Pero will surely not present itself.  And while you are having fun meeting potential suitors, your mind consistently wanders to Pero throughout the evening.  Aside from simply wishing to catch up with him and be in his comforting presence, you do have something important you feel compelled to speak to him on.

After a particularly spirited quadrille, you curtsey your gratitude for the dance to Mr. Sedgewick, and before any of the young men you spy hovering nearby can approach you, you hurry as elegantly as you can toward where Pero is standing awkwardly pressed to the wall. 

Pero, having seen the look of determination on your face when seeking him out, asks with concern when you come up to him, “Is everything okay, Dulce?”

There he is, you smile when you see the kind, gentle expression of the boy that you knew for so many years, “Everything is fine, Pero.  Although I must admit to needing a respite from all the endless socializing.  Do you think we could get some lemonade?”

“Of course.  I would be happy to accompany you in fetching a glass.”

With Pero by your side, any person who previously had designs on engaging you during this brief break between dances now thinks better of it; you chuckle to yourself as his fearsome expression comically paves a clear path for you to the refreshments table.  Once having secured your drink, you ask Pero if you can speak to him privately.

Careful not to lead you from view of other people lest it incite a scandal, Pero finds a quiet place in the entrance hallway and turns to find you looking up at him rather seriously.

When you’re certain you have his attention, you launch into your confession, “Pero, please allow me to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your father’s passing.  I remember him as such a kind, generous man, and such a wonderful friend to my father and by extension, me.  I will always think of him with tremendous fondness.”

“Thank you, Dulce.  I know he thought very highly of both you and your father and forever treasured your friendships.”

But you’re not done and start to shake your head, eyes filling with tears, “And I’m so very sorry that I did not write to you at the time.  I didn't know where you were, but I should have been more diligent in my efforts to find you.  I deeply regret not being there for you if you needed someone.  I hope you were not alone during that difficult time.”

You hang your head in shame.  Pero feels a deep affection for you blossoming in his chest; before him is the same sweet and compassionate girl he knew when he was a boy.  Tender-hearted and endlessly considerate of the feelings of others, you always had more empathy than you knew what to do with; he himself had been on the receiving end of your care and concern more times than he could count.  Pero gently tips you chin up with his gloved finger, “It was a tough time and I miss him a great deal.  But he was an incredible man and I strive to follow the example he set for me everyday.  So, in many ways, he is still with me.  No need for any apologies.”  He gives you what he hopes is a soft and reassuring smile.

In return, you grin, “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?  The boy I knew would have made me pay dearly for even the slightest offense - my portion of dessert for a week, at the very least.”

Unable to hold back his own grin, Pero is finding it easy to slip back into this familiar type of playful banter with you, “Well, I was trying to be a gentleman, but since you think me nothing more than a brute, I shall have no trouble devising an appropriate punishment.  For your transgression against me, I demand… a dance.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and it feels wonderful to laugh loudly at something genuinely funny rather than the quiet polite laughter you’ve been making most of the evening. “A dance?  Well, that is hardly a concession for me!  One dance with you means one less spot on my dance card for some lord I don’t know but who Daphne thinks I might find charming,” you joke.

“Are you finding your potential suitors so far to be villains or are they all just very boring?” smirks Pero.

Giving him a little punch in the arm to show him you’re not really complaining, “I am not so terribly unfeeling.  They are for the most part fine enough gentlemen.  The particular circumstance we find ourselves in just makes them so very eager.  It can feel terribly awkward.”

“None of them are good enough for you anyway.”

“Oh, and you are?” you jest, eyes full of mirth.

“Dulce, I’m the worst of the bunch,” counters Pero, leaning in close.

“I don’t doubt it,” you haven’t smiled this wide all evening.

“Be that as it may, the price you must pay to regain my favour remains the same.  Shall we?” Pero holds out his arm, waiting for you to accept his dance invitation; you hold on to him gratefully and head back into the main ballroom, realizing this is the first dance of the ball that you’ve truly looked forward to.

When Pero takes his place across from you, the tittering from the crowd that the Barón has finally taken to the dance floor can be heard over the opening notes of the music.  You can’t help but giggle, and Pero beams back at you – your light laughter more melodic than any music he’s ever heard.

Hand firmly curling around your waist, Pero sways you to the beat and the two of you carry out the steps of the dance comfortably together.  You hadn’t realized how much stress you’ve been under or how much tension you’ve been holding in until now, when you find yourself actually relaxing in Pero’s strong hold.  For the first time this evening, you’re dancing without nerves or the pressure of having to make polite conversation or a good first impression; you can simply be.  You sigh in contentment.

“What is it, Dulce?  Are my dance skills not to the standard set by your other partners this evening?”

“Hardly,” you chuckle, “I know for a fact that you dance remarkably well.  And if I were to have any complaints, the blame would rest squarely on my shoulders since we learned these dances together.”

“That’s true, we can only be as good as the partners we practice with.”

“Exactly. At least that’s what Madam used to say, right before she would rap you on your shoulders with her rhythm baton,” you muse, nostalgic.

“That weapon had a name?  I have not thought of Madam for many years now, but upon my word if I did not straighten up and stiffen my arms just now.”

You share another chortle as only two close friends with a long history of fond memories and inside jokes between them can.  When you sigh again, Pero cocks his scarred eyebrow at you.

“Do not think me dissatisfied, my Lord.  It is simply just so comfortable dancing with you, as if it has not been over ten years since we last did so.”

“I feel the same way, Dulce.”

You smile sincerely at Pero; although you could explain yourself further, you somehow know that he understands your meaning without you having to do so.  Feeling content, both heart and mood light in the safety of Pero’s closed frame, you find yourself wishing that you could spend the rest of the ball dancing with only him.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @titabel

[000marie198]

Are there any sonic au’s you would recommend? I am trying to find more to get into so would love to know if you have any favourites out there :D

Hello! Oh there are so many! :D I definitely have some favorites and some which aren't favs but are pretty great.

Putting these under the cut because there are so many! And there's definitely more cool AUs that I haven't seen or haven't saved.

Anyways, please enjoy my personal selection:

Seven Years Too Soon by NightFuchia. Basically what if a much younger Sonic accidentally set Shadow free from Prison Island. It has awesome characterization and happens to be one of my favorite stories. The rest of Team Sonic is also present

Brotherhood's Twist by @/drawloverlala even though I don't think it counts entirely as Au but it still sort of does. Unbreakable Bond ageswitch due to Zeti's meddling.

Passion's @sonic-tangled-au . I love it! So very much. The lore and backstories are so good.

Noonui's World Restored in Imbalanced Chaos au. Extremely engaging and good. Has a bunch of world building and fun concepts and lore.

Sonic's Super Totally Awesome Mixtape, though it seems to be discontinued, I'm not sure. It's pretty good so far! Takes place in the movie verse.

@brainworms-all-night-long is working on a Dreamtale Au which I'm hyped for. The tag in use is 'dreamtale and sonic tomfoolery'.

@/the-starlight-project comic is pretty good too. Mystery! And emotions. So many emotions ough.

And there's @the-emerald-isle-au by @0vergrowngraveyard . Very intriguing. 👀

Please do check out the Pandora Au by @/starrjoy. It's great!

The Fair Folk by Irritable_Fabulamancer, this fic is one of my favorites! Team Sonic as Fae my beloved! I love fae AUs.

On that note, if you're alright wanting to read a Fae!AU which is pretty much a sonadow fic, there is also I don't believe in fairy tales [but I believe in you and me]. Fantasy and Fae! Satbk inspired, another one that had me hooked.

My Arms Are Blue by thekyuubivixen and its unofficial, fan-continuation (My Arms Are Blue! Final Four Edition) by PlaystationPassenger. The story doesn't completely count as an AU but I'm recommending them anyway cuz they're really really good and has that watching your own show from different dimension trope. It's also hilarious and fun.

Burning Arrow, Wildfire Heart by Taranea is SatSR novelisation AU with Sonic's other friends present too, it's pretty fun. Not very accurate regarding the desert but it's a good read and I come back to reread it often. Must read in my opinion. Just don't dare use it as guide for desert travel or you'll be shriveled up in the sand somewhere

This fic. Read it, I will not elaborate this one. Just trust me :]

And don't miss out on @shadofiredragon's Legends Never Die fic. It's a future fic! And an awesome one. I won't spoil much but it is so good. She also has lots of fun AUs in the works.

Down the Foxhole series by MoonlitNightin. Sonic Prime AU series which is great! Tails' pov. The Shatterverses have their own Sonics. Engaging and great.

Feel free to check out @/Son1c's 10verse and other AUs. Those are some pretty great ones. Love the different lore and variants given to the Shatterverses in 10verse.

Spirit of the Wind by TrenchCoatGecko. Satbk inspired fantasy au. Sonamy, has focus on magic and lore and other characters as well.

If you'd like some Forces angst with Unbreakable Bond focus, please do read Illusionary are your arms around me by @nixoon-again. The feels will kill you /pos

Chaos Barren by but_why_not. I forgot to add this earlier (this is an edited addition). Takes place in the Blue Devils AU, great story!

Baby Tails shenanigans by @myymi . Tails got turned into itty bitty infant kit. (And also check @0vergrowngraveyard 'baby tails' tag for more little gremlin scenarios)

Myla is also working on @tails-and-the-ink-machine au

Feral au by Oneshot_bravo. Little short stories or drabbles taking place in Unleashed but the werehog is feral yet keeps his memories. Very lighthearted and fun and cute

Three or more foxes form a skulk by @/chiropter36 . Post Prime au fic, loved it! Go read.

Also, @donelywell 'roadtrip! sonic au' and 'Casino Nights Au'

Haven't yet started reading The Fox's Burrow by @/space-gutz but I'm planning to. Recommending it either way cuz I feel like it's gonna be good. Unbreakable Bond but ageswaped au.

@/sonicchaoscontrol comic. Another in-progress au which is also quite intriguing. Sonic jumps through a portal and exits in future where the planet is a mess. The mystery of what and how it all happened and what's going on slowly unfolds.

The Buzzsaw Dillemma by redpenship. I haven't personally read it myself but I've heard many good things about it, especially it's world building.

Incomplete and won't be updated anymore but if you haven't read them yet, DO NOT miss out on Ghosts of the Future and The Murder of Me fancomics by Evan Stanley (spiritsonic) and Gigi Deutrix (gigi-D) respectively. They're a must read. Both are available on DeviantArt.

The Heart of a Monster comic, @/the-heart-of-a-monster. It's in progress and updates regularly. Unleashed retelling, really really good with some extra lore and everyone involved.

Sometimes the Picket Fence isn’t Perfect and Sharp Edges (Sonic Prime AU) series by @/skimmingthesurfaces. I'm holding off the first one to read later, like that one book you've been saving so I'm not sure if it completely counts as an AU, still putting it in recs, and the second one is intriguing so far. I have heard a lot of good thing about the Picket Fence series.

Dark Boom by Smash50. The entirety of Team Dark in the Sonic Boom universe. Alongside it, there's also Boomtober by the same author.

It Always Snows by the 24th by Selendred had me hooked even though it's a oneshot. Great au and would love to see it explored more.

No One said I Wish by SylWritesStuff. One of my fav stories from the Sonic Platonic Fairytale Week event. It's really funny.

Sonic Phantom Forces (SPF) au comic. Sonic Forces au, blue boy gets taken away but not in the way you think, pretty cool story so far. It's in-progress and available on both Tumblr and DeviantArt. @/spfau

If Black Doom tried to be a better father by Tirainy. Don't take this one seriously. It's pure comedy and I love every second of it. Shadow is having a time for sure XD.

Silent Talkers by @brainworms-all-night-long. Takes place in the Prime Bros verse, feels intensified, all the good ones. A must read, trust me.

And speaking of the Prime Bros AU (in which all Shatterverse foxes also got adopted by Sonic and are now brothers), feel free to scroll through the 'prime bros' tag here. So many awesome posts for this particular au by everyone!

There's so many more, cool ones, epic ones. I haven't saved all and I'm probably forgetting some great ones too so I'm leaving this open for others to add. If y'all have more cool AUs, plz add to these (I wanna check em out too)

....

And now a few from the Fanfiction.net site because it doesn't have much audience compared to AO3 and there are some actual gems hidden there;

Premonition by thekiyuubivixen (not entirely an au but it feels like one due to the unique ability Sonic gains)

The Sonic Project by SconnieSA. Rated M but it's a pretty awesome AU and the rating is due to more serious themes and uncensored language in some parts. Highly recommending this one

Survivor's Resolve by DC111. Not entirely an AU but I must rec this fic it's so good and doea havs some AU vibes.

Sonic the Hedgehog: Attorney of Law by thedraconicwerewolf. Ace Attorney type AU with Sonic and Tails as main characters. Not too adventurous but very very fun and interesting and still managed to keep Sonic in character. Though it has a sequel started, I only rec the main story, not the sequal as it seems to be abandoned and isn't needed to be read like them cliffhanger stories.

beLIEve by Meow21. I have only read snippets from this, waiting for this story to continue but it seems to be discontinued. Felt like an epic story too and deserves to be recommended.

Sonic and the Golden Journey. Sonic gets thrown in another storybook, this time it's a children's classic fairytale. Short but very comedic and fun. Go read it.

Tales of a Samurai. I am begging you to read this one, please it's so good. Also by Taranea.

Wonderful and it's sequal Sanctuary by Inflamore for some Unbreakable Bond angst. (Kindly ignore the obliviousness of earlier ff.net for not knowing the meaning of certain symbols, there's nothing of the sort in story, trust me.)

Regrets by MazzyBooks. A high school au of sorts. Sonic centric with some heavy angst. I'm not kidding about the angst part, trust me. It had me hooked from the first chapter though and I believe it deserves a rec.

You need the cracks (to let the light shine through) by king.needlemouse. Istg this is the most underrated thing I've ever come across, it's one of my absolute favorite fics which I can never forget. Do read it.

Within this Nightmare by sonicfan1990. Sonic get transported to an alternate universe which has gone post apocalyptic and his counterpart in that universe has been dead. Pretty great story, lots of angst and everything.

And that's all I could remember and have saved for now. I'm leaving this open to more AU recs (yes even self plugs are welcome) so if you know any I missed, plz feel free to add. I hope you enjoy all these great AUs!

Thanks for the ask!

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (iii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, obnoxious reader, cryptids, graveyards

A/N: good evening. i am fighting demons (tummy ache). comments and feedback are always appreciated thank u for the love on the series so far i adore u guys sm <;33

Previous part || Series masterlist

A few days after the first video goes up, Bucky returns from his run to a SHIELD file taped to his door.  

He opens to a black and white photo of him from back in the day, and a page full of his details. Full name, blood group, previous addresses, aliases, best colours to match his undertone, favourite Gilmore Girl boyfriend. 

He flips the page to the section on his known connections, only for a sheet of paper to fall out. Sharpie sprawled haphazardly across it, in big red letters. 

NO AUNT. 

BITCH.

He bites back a grin.

The video does reasonably well. Not record breaking numbers or anything, but for once there aren’t TikToks of people counting how many times he blinks to make sure he’s an actual human. 

Always a man of his word, though he has regretted it every single time, he agrees to a second video. It follows after a disgraceful bout of bitching and even pleading, but a few hours later, he resigns himself to his fate silently. 

That is until the schedule for the next video shoot is posted to the server, and he sees it’s at night. 

The night he uses to sleep. The night.

Before he can even type out his rejection, his door receives four sharp knocks. He doesn’t even need to open it to know who it was.  

It’s like you could read his thoughts. Probably could. He doesn’t know the extent of your telekinesis. 

In your hands is a large cardboard box and on your face is a stupidly big grin. 

“Good evening,” you greet. 

“Tell me the show’s getting cancelled,” he says. 

“Nope. We–” you announce, reaching into the box and shoving something onto his chest, “--are going on a trip. Demon hunting.”

“Demon hunting?” 

“To Westley Cemetery,” you add, letting the box tumble onto the floor as you grip its contents. “To catch the Westley Cemetery Cryptid.”

“What the hell is the Westley Cemetery Cryptid?” Bucky demands.

“Creature that lives in the cemetery, watches people from the trees and runs after you if you’re there too long. No known kills, but a couple of scratches and spooks,” you list off. 

His face twists. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Uh, yes it is.” You rest a hand on your hip. “My sources told me so.”

“Who are your sources?”

“Twitter.”

Bucky stares at you without a word.

“It’s totally real. It’s got a Wikia page and everything,” you argue against his complete silence. “I believe in it.”

“That means nothing.”

“Rude.” You glare pointedly. “Anyway, point is, we’re going out tonight to the cemetery and we’re gonna catch this thing on tape.”

Bucky tracks your gaze to finally look down at what you’ve shoved into his hands. It’s a headband, with two cameras attached to it, one facing your face and the other outward. Night vision, he guesses. 

He sighs. “How long? An hour?” 

“Was Hamlet written in an hour? Was Sharknado filmed in an hour?” you exclaim. “Great art takes time. We’re staying out there as long as we need to. So help me, we will emerge victorious.”

Bucky stares at you. “Two hours.”

“Seven.”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Your will is weak and your spirit is cowardly.” You return his fixed look with equal intensity, if not more, which he didn't think was possible. “Three hours.”

“Deal.”

“Great.” You stick your hand out, and he grabs on firmly. “See you at 1am.”

“1am?!”

It is 1am, it is cold and Bucky is miserable. 

But he’s there. In the cemetery. With the stupid camera rig on his head. 

You offer him whiskey to warm him up, and he agrees. 

You then tell him you don’t actually have any because you didn’t think he’d accept.

He hates it here.

The wind whistles around the both of you. The eerie silence is only compounded by the fact that he can’t see anything beyond a certain point. The night is especially dark and there is no moonlight.

He trudges through the patchy grass, dry leaves crunching under his boots.

The camera being so close to his face along with the fact that you wouldn’t stop singing the same three fucking lines of the song over and over again, makes him want to tear his hair out.

“That thing’s not gonna get near us if you don’t shut up,” he grumbles.

“Nonsense,” you hum. “I’m a goddamn delight. He’s gonna be trippin’ over himself to get to me.”

“He doesn’t exist.”

“He definitely does, and you know what? I bet your shit vibes are gonna attract him. Moth to flame and all that. Karmic justice.” 

Bucky stares straight ahead, swerving to avoid running into cracked tombstones. 

You go back to singing, but worse this time. 

“What if we don’t get anything?” he interrupts, to protect his sanity. “No one wants to watch a bunch of people just walk around the dark for 20 minutes.”

There’s no response. 

It takes a second for Bucky to realise the singing’s stopped too.

He stops in his tracks, head swivelling to look for you.

“The fuck…” he mutters. 

In the cemetery, he is truly alone for a moment. Silent, other than wrought iron gates creaking in the far distance. 

The leaves of the tree above him rustle.

Bucky looks up, squinting against the darkness. 

Against the stillness of the night, he sees it. A figure stands tall on the branches of the tree, silhouette obscured by the leaves. 

It leers down at him, unmoving.

Bucky doesn’t even flinch.

“Very funny,” he says. “Hilarious.”

“We’ll fake it,” the figure calls from above. “If we don’t get any footage, I’ll just get on up there and fuck around and you record.”

“Get down,” he demands. “We’re not faking footage.”

If this show had to die this way, so be it.

“Bore,” you boo, lowering yourself to the ground with ease. “If I didn't know any better, I’d say you don’t want to be a part of this series.”

“I don’t.”

“Anyway,” you say obnoxiously, “we won’t have to. There is definitely a cryptid here. I can feel it in my bones.”

“We’re halfway through the graveyard and there’s nothing here,” he shoots back. “We should call it quits.”

“You’re right,” you say, to his surprise. “We need to cover more ground. Let’s split up.”

That is most definitely not what he was saying.

But you start singing again and so Bucky agrees faster than you finish the same stupid third line for the hundredth time that hour.

Bucky is a man of dignity.

Less than five minutes later, he gives up.

He takes a seat against the trunk of a tall tree, in a relatively open clearing. 

He figures if he just takes a nap then the two hours would pass by quicker. 

Bucky has no idea where you’ve gone. The lack of light doesn’t help, even with his advanced vision. 

He crosses his arms behind his head and settles back, eyes closing. 

Not even a second later, he wants to rip his hair out when the stupid song you were singing reintroduces itself in his head.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groans. 

The tree he’s leaning against shifts ever so slightly.

His eyes fly open, but he doesn’t move an inch.

Instinctually, his breathing slows and his ears tune in to pick up even the faintest sounds.

The draft whispers, and he knows for a fact that something is above him.

A branch cracks. 

“Go away,” Bucky says loudly. 

A second passes. 

And then another. 

“You’re supposed to be looking for the thing,” you shout.

“It’ll find me if it wants to.” He shifts to make himself more comfortable. “I’m givin’ him a real shot here.” 

“You didn’t even look up.”

“Didn’t have to.”

“He could have been above you.”

“But he wasn’t.” Bucky’s eyes close again. 

“You’re terrible.” It comes back muffled, and branches shift. “I’m headin’ that way. One of us has to put some effort into this.”

“Joy. Knock yourself out.”

The trunk moves under his muscles again and Bucky lets out a small exhale, settling back into the position he was in.

Until he hears you singing in the distance. Same three lines, same off-key tune.

Bucky drags his palm across his face. 

An hour passes. 

Unlike his original plan, he does not sleep.

He instead recounts every element he remembers from the periodic table. 

Replays every Dodgers game from his childhood, and then gets mad at their shift. 

Then he tries to recollect every fact he knows about you so far. Mutant, captured and experimented on, broke free several years before him. Met Nat along the way and befriended her. Telekinesis, slowed aging. Escape artist. Wedding videographer. Allegedly.

He just doesn’t get how you’re so goddamn chirpy all the time, given that he’d been through something similar and come out the way he had. 

It had taken him a month to say anything to anyone other than Steve. You went out for brunch with Sam the same weekend you showed up at the compound.

He doesn’t get you.

Speaking of which, he hasn’t actually seen you in a while. 

He checks the time on his watch. Nearly 3am.

He had a fucking workout in the morning and no lizard-man was going to be the cause for Steve outrunning him.

He pushes himself off the ground with a groan, and stretches out his sore limbs. Definitely too old for lying around a cemetery beyond midnight.

He calls out your name loudly, and then again, before waiting. 

He hears bells ringing in the distance. 

Bucky looks up.

In the shadows of the trees, he comes face to face with the same sight as before. A figure, standing on the branches.  

“There’s nothing here,” he calls out, sighing. “Can we just leave?”

The twigs creek, and for a second he thinks you’re going to fall. 

“Already told you I’m not faking footage, get down from there,” he repeats. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you at the gate.”

The leaves shuffle around before he hears branches break. 

Something you say gets obscured by your movement, but you disappear again. He thinks that maybe you were cursing him out, and deservedly so. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

He rolls his eyes, but starts making his way to the entrance of the graveyard.

The walk back is faster, and he holds back a yawn as the gates start creeping up on the horizon. 

There’s no sign of you. He half thinks you ditched him here and went back to the compound. Or fell off the tree and were just laying there. 

But he decides to wait, leaning against the exposed concrete wall. 

Eyes closed, he rubs his temples and decides that if you’re not here in the next thirty seconds, he’ll just–

“Hey,” you greeet from right in front of him.

“Where the hell did you go?” he demands. 

You blink at him, before holding up a wrapper. 

“Got a sandwich. I was hungry. The diner was real nice too, I spent like half an hour talkin’ to the owner.”

He stares at you. “You just left to get a sandwich?”

“Yeah, and I got you one, too,” you reply, tossing him a paper bag. “You’re welcome. God bless that man, but those things aren’t cheap.”

“You’ve not been here for the last half hour?”  

“I mean, I spent like ten minutes looking.” You shrug, taking another bite. “All I got was a bunch of grass.”

Ten minutes. Bucky had sat under the stupid tree for an hour. 

“So you just left,” he says dryly.

“Yes,” you reply like it’s not even worth debating. “Besides, if anyone could find a cryptid it’d be you. A fellow cryptid.”

Bucky spins on his heel to leave.

“You’re welcome for dinner,” you call out, and he can hear you laugh.

He flips you the finger, and regrets it a second later when your singing resumes.

The sandwich is good. He appreciates it.

He even manages to keep pace with Steve the next morning. 

What he doesn’t appreciate is coming back to fifteen missed calls and four video calls from you.

From: co-host (TGS)

can you pick up 

From: co-host (TGS)

i know you have nothing going on in your life you are bitchless

Bucky switches off his phone for the next three hours. 

Finally, it’s a threat that you will show up at his door again and Bucky finally video calls you back that evening. 

“What,” he states.

“Took you long enough,” you huff, sitting up to adjust the camera. In the middle of the ordeal, Bucky sees your laptop open.

“What do you want?” he repeats.

“The team sent over the videos from last night,” you tell him. “At some point in the video you said ‘we’re not faking footage, get down from there.”

“Yeah.”

He hears you play the footage faintly in the background, almost to substantiate your point. He cringes at the sound of his own voice.  

“Who were you talking to?” 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Heard you in the trees. Figured you climbed up there again.”

“Ah.” You click your tongue. “Interesting.”

“What.”

You hum. “See, that wasn’t me.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Yes, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say calmly. “I’d left to get dinner way before all that.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious. Got the timestamp on my video to prove it.” You look up at him through the camera finally. “So who were you actually talking to, Barnes?”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“Bye,” he says shortly.

“Dude,” he hears you laugh loudly through the phone. “I fuckin’ told you you’d attract these things, you–”

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Next part

[littleocean-rose]

Our Little Star

Summary: While walking on the way to a pet store to look for a kitten you want to adopt, you trace your hand over your soulmate tattoo on your wrist, the black ink reading one little word on your skin. Byeol. You stare at it, like you’ve done countless times in your life, wondering if you’ll ever meet your soulmate one day.

AU: non-idol, soulmate Pairings: Choi San x reader Warnings: none Word count: 2.1k

A/N: words cannot describe how many people I would kill for Byeol. I love her, I adore, I want to hold and kiss her, she is the most precious baby out there. San I love you but I WILL steal your cat. (jk I’m stealing you both-)

The world was full of different ways for people to meet their soulmate.

Some had it easy. Seeing each other in their dreams, able to communicate their names and location to the other. Dreamers had it the easiest by far, followed by Inkers. Inkers had the ability to communicate to their soulmate by writing on their skin, the words and marks appearing on the others’ skin, allowing them to write down names and numbers and locations. Visionaries were the third lucky ones, getting to see a glimpse of what their soulmate was seeing every now and then, taking in the scenery of where they were, what they were doing.

Others weren’t so lucky. Stringers had that little red thread attached to their pinkies, leading them to their soulmate, but never knowing how close they were to them. For all they knew, that little red string could run across an entire continent or over an ocean. All they knew was what direction their soulmate was in. Phrasers and Tattooists also had it hard. They could go their entire lives without ever meeting their soulmate, hoping to find someone with a matching tattoo, or listening desperately for the words that matched the ink on their skin. Colorists were among that class, too—their world monotone and grey until they finally laid eyes upon their soulmate, their world suddenly bursting into color the moment they found their other half.

Then there were the unlucky ones. Counters, those with timers on their wrists, were ones you always felt bad for. While some times Counters had their timers counting down until the moment they met their soulmate, others had timers that counted down until the moment their soulmate died. There were those who felt their soulmate’s pain, or shared the same wounds as them. Those who bloomed flowers from their skin, flowers that matched the emotions of what their soulmate was feeling. Signs you did in fact have a soulmate but were never given any indication of how they would know they even met them.

You were in the class of Phrasers, your soulmate mark being the first thing you would hear your soulmate say. Some had whole sentences, but you? You had a single word. Byeol. You remembered when you were a child how you obsessed over the word, looking up the definition and seeing it was of Korean origin. So growing up, you learned to speak Korean, studying it every moment you could, until you were fluent in it by the age of thirteen. Your parents encouraged you, just as eager as you to meet your soulmate, and when you hit the age of eighteen, they tearfully drove you to the airport so you could catch your flight to South Korea.

While they supported your decision, they still were sad to see you leaving to live in another country.

It wasn’t like you didn’t visit—you did every chance you could, which was usually every other year, but you were still their only child, and they missed always seeing you in person.

But here you were, nearly seven years later, and you still hadn’t met your soulmate. While it did dampen your spirits, you decided to stop trying so hard to find them. Not because you were quitting and giving up on the idea, no. What was the point of stressing over it? You’d leave it to Fate—if you found them, hey, great! If not, then, well, that didn’t mean you couldn’t start a romance with someone else.

You glanced down at the word again, fingers tracing over the ink as you walked into the pet store. You had recently moved into a new apartment so you could be closer to your job, and you were beyond ecstatic to discover it was a pet friendly home. Wasting no time, you had run out of the house first thing after breakfast on your day off to get yourself a new little companion. While you were originally planning to get one from a shelter, it was on the other side of the city, and you didn’t feel up for the long journey.

Instantly you went to the pets section, face lighting up at the cute animals in their enclosures. You went by the birds, taking a moment to admire their pretty plumage and beautiful songs, and then past the fluffy bunnies. You passed by mice next, stopping to watch them run through their little tubes, and then stopped to watch one of the hamsters run on his wheel. Of course you had to stop and look at the puppies, cooing at how adorable they were, watching them tumble over each other as they played. You had thought about getting a puppy, but in the end you just couldn’t pass up the idea of getting a kitten.

Which was why you were now in front of the cat enclosures. You took the time to look over each cat, aww-ing over their adorable little faces and fuzzy paws that reached out past the bars of their cages. There were some adult cats, a pretty calico catching your eye as you walked by, and then a cute tabby who seemed hyped on caffeine as he bounced off the walls, smacking around one of his toys and making you laugh. Then you reached the kitten area, and your heart melted.

They were at different stages of growth, some bordering on young teen, while others still seemed to wobble a little as they stood. One kitten in particular caught your eye. It was a siamese, large blue eyes staring up at you as it rolled over on its back with a long stretch and yawn, having just woke up from its nap.

One of the employees approached you, a wide smile pulling at his lips. You glanced at his name tag. Wooyoung. “Hello! Did you see someone you wanted to go say hi to?”

You nodded, pointing at the little siamese kitten. “Yeah, if that’s okay?”

The employee nodded. “Yeah, of course! Let me take you in.” Another employee passed the two of you, tall and blonde as he approached another customer that had also been looking at the cat display. You followed Wooyoung to the door where he unlocked it, letting you to get a closer look at the cats. As you entered, a barrage of mewls filled the room, and you couldn’t help but coo at how adorable they all sounded. “Hey guys, we have a visitor! Be on your best behaviors, okay?” Another series of meows filled the air, making the employee grin. “Anyway, go right on ahead and take a look! I’ll be right here to answer any questions you have!”

You thanked Wooyoung, starting with the cages at the back first. You heard the door open again, glancing over to see that same tall employee from earlier enter. “Hey, Yunho! Oh, another person interested in getting a– oh, it’s you again!” You tuned out their conversation, putting all your focus on the cats before you. An orange tabby, curled up into a ball, softly chittered in its sleep, and you nearly had to bite your fist from cooing as to not wake it up from its dream.

You looked over each cat, making your way slowly back to the siamese from earlier, until finally you were standing before its cage. It meowed softly at you, kneading the soft pillow it was sitting on. “She’s only been here a week, that one. She was left at our door in the middle of the night with her siblings in a box. The others have all found homes, she’s the only one left now.”

“Aww, that’s sad. At least they weren’t left on the side of the road or something,” you murmured. Wooyoung nodded.

“Yeah, I’m glad we could find them all good homes.” You heard quiet murmuring from behind you, the employee Yunho talking to his customer. Wooyoung gave a hum. “If you had to name her, what name would you give?”

You thought for a second, looking back into her big blue eyes. You swore you could see stars in her eyes, a hint of a pink galaxy, and one word came to mind. You smiled softly.

“Byeol.”

“Byeol.”

Your eyes widened, turning around to the other person who had uttered the word. Your focus landed on the other customer, his expression full of shock just like yours. At the same time you both looked down at your wrists, and with a quiet gasp you noticed that your soulmate tattoo was now red. This was him. This was your soulmate. After years of searching, you had finally found him.

You locked eyes with him, taking in his features as he did the same with you. His eyes reminded you of a cat’s, and at the corners of his excited smile were two adorable little dimples that you couldn’t look away from. His hair was pink, and you wondered if that had been the pink you had seen reflected in the kitten’s eyes earlier. You never thought you’d find someone who could rock pink hair so well, and it seemed you were proven wrong in the best way.

“Hi,” he breathed, smile growing, turning his eyes into cute little crescents. It was an absolutely adorable sight, your heart doing a little flip at it. You were sure your cheeks were a light pink, matching his, and you barely registered the fact that Wooyoung and Yunho were quietly squealing to themselves while watching the two of you.

“Hi,” you replied, cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling. “So, Byeol, huh?”

The male grinned, chuckling lightly as he looked over at the kitten. “Yeah, I swear I saw stars in her eyes.”

“Me too…” You faded off, and the male sheepishly scratched at his neck.

“Sorry. San, my name is Choi San.” He held his hand out to you, and you spotted the red tattoo on his inner wrist. Byeol. You smiled again, taking his hand, noting how small and soft it was, and how perfectly yours fit in it.

You gave him your name, his eyes lighting up. “What a pretty name,” he murmured, cheeks flushing at realizing he said that out loud. You laughed, finding his behavior sweet, warmth blooming in your chest at knowing you’d probably get along with San just fine. He cleared his throat, motioning to the kitten. “Since you’re adopting her, I am demanding visiting rights.”

Amused, you fought down another smile, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? Demanding visiting rights?”

“That’s correct. I’ve had my eye on that little baby since yesterday, but it seems you unfortunately beat me to adopting her. So, therefore, I am demanding visiting rights.”

You gave a thoughtful hum, pretending to think over the decision. You could see San trying to fight down a smile as well, loving how you were playing along. You tapped your chin in thought. “Hm, I think I can allow that. How does Thursday sound?”

“Perfect,” he answered. He pulled out his phone, holding it out to you. “I’m going to need your contact information to know where the visiting rights will be held, and how to get ahold of you for said visits.”

You held out your phone for him to take as you took his. “Of course.” The both of you exchanged contact information, handing each other back your phones, and you couldn’t fight off the smile any more. “San, it’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you.”

“It really has been. I’m so glad I decided to wait until today to come back for Byeol.” He offered you a shy smile. “I’ll… text you later, then…?”

“Please, any time you want.” Your fingers traced over your tattoo. “I’ll see you Thursday the, Mister Choi. With Byeol in tow, of course.”

He laughed, the sound like music to your ears, and you decided you wanted to spend the rest of your life listening to it. He rubbed at his neck again, your eyes flickering over and spotting the smattering of freckles along his skin. Everything about him was so cute. “Alright then. I’ll see you Thursday.” San gave you a little wave as he left the room, and you waved back, watching him leave until he was out of sight. As you gave a happy sigh, the two employees beside you gave quiet squeals.

“Oh my god we must be matchmakers, I have never seen two soulmates meet before in my life!”

“That was so cute, I wanted to scream! You two are so cute!” You blushed at their words, ducking your head as you gave a shy laugh, thanking them. Wooyoung cooed over the moment a little longer before finally moving on to the adoption process for Byeol.

As you walked out the store with your new little friend, you found yourself smiling as you looked at the notification on your phone.

Sannie Hey~

Sannie Be careful with the little star now! She’s our fragile little baby after all!

You shook your head with a laugh.

You couldn’t wait until Thursday came around.

A/N: heeey! Don't worry, I'm still working on Guardians! It's just longer than I expected it to be, and motivation to write has been a little low lately. But! Here's my first tumblr post! Hope it was alright, please leave some feedback if you liked it!

Thank you, have a good night/day everyone! ♡

[deconstructthesoup]

What's been in my head lately is a Fantasy High pirate AU. Not a Leviathan AU, an actual pirate AU.

Bear with me---

Adaine is a bookish princess of a kingdom by the sea, and while she has everything from an outsider's perspective, she's neglected by her parents as the second child and is incredibly lonely. Her only real friend is Kristen, who's a representative of the church of Helio and is kind of Adaine's unofficial lady-in-waiting, and both of them are fairly sheltered... until one fateful day, while the two are enjoying a small day of freedom, they get captured by a motley crew of pirates.

Fabian is the captain and the son of the fabled Old Bill, and he's been making his own mark on the seven seas via sheer charisma and chaos. He's trying to build up a reputation of being a ruthless thief and murderer like his father was, but it's pretty plain to see that he cares a lot more than he lets on... like, for instance, upon realizing that Adaine's parents don't care enough about her to pay for ransom, he immediately offers her a spot on his crew. And once Kristen has a very public crisis of faith, she's granted a spot, too.

The other members of Fabian's crew are as follows:

Riz, his first mate and best friend. He's a son of two prolific spies from the goblin kingdom, and he initially wanted to take down the vast network of pirates across the world, but quickly changed gears once he realized that working for the monarchy was a lot more morally corrupt. He kind of acts as the voice of reason, while simultaneously being one of the most feral members of the crew.

Ragh, the ship's chef and the other first mate---Fabian couldn't decide between him and Riz. His mom used to be a pretty prolific pirate herself, and he and Fabian have known each other since they were kids... and, yeah, their relationship has changed from "best friends forever" to "work husbands" over the years. They have some good times.

Gorgug, the ship's resident gunner. He grew up in a family of blacksmiths, couldn't find a lot of honest work, and eventually got a steady position on Fabian's ship. He's happy to be here, he's happy to show off the fact that he's a beast in combat situations, and he's one of the most technically savvy members of the crew. Also, he's a surprisingly good listener.

Fig, the musician and "dark sorceress" of the ship. She used to be a traveling singer-slash-songwriter and used an elven disguise to blend in, but eventually decided "fuck it" and took on her true form as a free-spirited tiefling pirate who kicks ass, takes names, and curses anybody who badmouths her. She's great.

Tracker, the ship's surgeon. She was raised in the church of Helio before being bitten by a werewolf, after which she promptly left to learn under her uncle, who was a prolific pirate himself before he retired. Nowadays, she's learned the secrets of both witchcraft and medicine and made a name for herself as a skilled healer and fighter, and is pretty happy where she is.

Gertie, the ship's other chef and resident wildlife expert. She's definitely one of the most friendly members of the crew, and even though she butts heads with Fabian a lot, she's a pretty core part of the crew. And yeah, between her and Tracker, Kristen is definitely getting a big lesbian awakening.

There is, of course, still a version of Leviathan out there, and Ayda still lives there as a librarian... which is the reason why the crew regularly makes stops there, though getting more supplies is also a plus. Garthy is also there, along with Sandralynn and Jawbone (and Hallariel and Gilear, much to Fabian's displeasure). The Seven are also around---they're a fierce crew of pirates who have a bit of a friendly rivalry with Fabian's crew, though it's never escalated into outright battle.

[kiame-sama]

Dragon headvanon guy here again because a few more dropped into my head (also sorry for the typos, I'm not used to my phones big keyboard yet xD also 100% relate to you on the plushies, I have a big collection on my.own and love them with all my heart)

1. Most if not all Creatures love to be pet, it's common to see children & sometimes young teens being pet by their parents, older siblings or close friends. The older they fet the less likely they get petted tho, older Fae's and long lived Creatures tho remember that Humans would pet anyone who allowed it with great joy.

2. We know that Humans are seen as Peackeepers (or Beast Tamers) but I like to headcanon that they are also a symbol of Loyalty in many Kingdoms. Some older Creatures, like Lilia even remember Humans going through great dangers or sacrificing themself for their Pack.

An old Rumor has it that one of the Great Seven was actually once pack bounded with a human who sacrificed themself for them. (It would be an intresting idea if it was Scar and after he died many mistook the Human Sacrificing themself for him as him killing them & eating them. But you guys can go wild with this one)

3. Angry humans were a raresight to see and most only learned how dangerous humans could be once a Creature attacked a child and had to be send to a hospital after the Parent of said child got their revenge. It's also at that point that many learned how dangerous a human bite can be thanks to the bacteria in their mouth (that information sadly got lost to time though)

4. This is the last one for now, promise xD A lot of Kingdoms who were safe for humans, would have human daycares where they would watch over the Creatures kids. It was something unheard of since a lot of Creatures dont trust their young and rather weak children around others they dont know (and sometimes even close friends & family couldn't get close to the child without nearly being mauled.)

But it was a bit sucess and since it was free, low income familys would adly send their kids there to get food and have a chance at making friends. Some daycares even allowed sleepovers for Creatures who worked during the night, kids who were night active or those who weren't picked up because their parents worked late.

Sadly after humans went extinct these establishments were shutdown.

Ok one last one, this one is for the Fleur City; It's belived that humans created the Bell as a gift to the Rightous Judge who them upon getting this gift enchanted the Bell to ring in a specific tune when a human entred Fleur City.

Legends say that once the last human in Fleur City died and they went extinct as last that the Bell rung in such a sorrowfull way with the Rightous Judges cries that the spirit of the last Human in Fleur Ciry granted him a last gift. The Firelotus, so that any Magical Creature who dares to harm an Innocent Creature will be punished by humanitys judgment.

(No worries about the typos, I'm pretty bad about it too)

I'm down for all of these actually. Absolutely love how some canon things can so easily fall into place with just a little adjustment and work so wonderfully in an AU all its own.

I can see almost all of them wanting to be pet and of course hoping the soft human will pet them. Rook's already been pet by those little Human hands and he is already hooked. I could absolutely see Jack and Ruggie going nuts for petting. Lilia's already made it clear that group grooming is common so petting would likely be too. Maybe that's the Human's way of returning the grooming behavior to make Lilia sleep? Lilia has already petted Grim.

The last Human Lilia met was the surrogate mother of a young fox fae child and he will be forever haunted by how injured she was and still standing, unsure how long she must have fought to keep her young safe. Lilia had arrived near the end of the poor Human's desperate battle, stepping in himself but it was quite too late for the Human mother. He took in the child and raised them himself in Briar Valley, Silver is not the only child the old fae has taken under his wing. Lilia knows the sheer drive humans have to protect those they truly love because he saw it firsthand and he knows better than to mess with little Grim regardless of how much fun it would be. No need to upset the Human.

Humans were quite good at taking care of others young and many had a natural proclivity to protect infants regardless of what species it was. Humans aren't really all too threatening, so many mothers of the more protective species didn't feel that threat to themselves or their young like they did with other species or even their own family. Many are quite manageable as children and almost harmless, meaning the soft Humans could take care of them with no problem.

To make a world of magical creatures tremble in fear is a mighty feat and one only the fire lotus could achieve. After all, so many looked down on humans for their lack of magic, why not suffer the same fate for those who brought Humanity to heel?

[anamazingangie]

Ménage | Rhaenyra x Aegon x Aemond

🕯️ Rated E 🕯️4.2k words 🕯️ Complete 🕯️ by AmazingAngie🕯️

Tags: Historical AU, Sibling Incest, Manipulation, Underage Kissing, First Kiss, First Times, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Come Eating, Cunnilingus, Dom!Rhaenyra, Coming of Age, Consent Issues, Rhaenyra-Centric, Threesome - F/M/M

Warning: sex between minors [fifteen and seventeen when it begins]. Summary:

Rhaenyra despised her siblings, a pair of twin boys two year her junior - at least until she realized they would do things for her. Anything for her. The realm of such things changed as they matured, and in time Rhaenyra's hormones left her feeling rather fond of the pair she had previously merely tolerated. His pale chest was flushed along with his cheeks as she watched him stroke his soft length to something a different shape and size entirely. It was like magic. He spilled over his hand, making a mess of himself with his own seed. She wanted to touch. She wanted to taste. She did neither, she simply demanded for him to, “Do it again.” or: rhaenyra is either a very good, or very bad sister, depending on who you ask.

One

At first, Rhaenyra had hated her brothers. 

She lacked any and all maternal instincts towards infants, and so she lacked any and all patience for their screams and stench and all other annoyances that came with their mere existence. It was only made worse by the fact there were two of them. Two boys. 

Truly, if looks could kill, they would have been found dead in their cradles just hours after she met them. Nevermind that she herself was only two at the time, she was old enough to hold enough to know her dislikes, old enough to hold a grudge and certainly old enough to hate them on first impression alone.

And first impressions mattered a great deal.

And so, her feelings towards them did not change, not for years. 

.

By the age of seven, Rhaenyra had earned the title of Realm’s Delight. She was known on the small island of Dragonstone and among their people for her beauty, boisterous spirit, and impeccable—slightly frightening—skills on horseback. 

And it wasn’t just the people who were awed by the princess—but rather her brother’s, too. The pair had been five then, old enough to care what other people thought of them.

Old enough to know their sister did not care for them. 

Old enough that they wanted her too.

And Rhaenyra…she was old enough to see this.

Smart enough to use this for her benefit. 

And really really, it was a kindness when she gave them such opportunities to improve her opinion of them.

And so, she would have them fetch her lemonade or tea or servants. 

She would have them steal cakes and pastries from the kitchens on her behalf. 

Sometimes she would tell the groom she wanted to brush down Syrax and that they were excused.

It wasn’t a lie, and she would brush down Syrax. But the other tasks that were expected to go along with this—such as beating dust from the saddle blanket, conditioning the leather of her reins, and polishing bits—were ones she’d give to her brothers.

And they would fight for the tasks. Competitive over the mere opportunity to impress her. 

She liked that. 

She took advantage of it.

But who could blame her, when they liked it too?

.

Fondness for them grew very slowly. She still treated them more like her servants than her siblings, truly, but by the time she was ten she could acknowledge she would be sad if something happened to them. 

When they were ten, they were mourning the fact they would have to leave Dragonstone to attend the Crownlands College that all Targaryen men claimed as their alumni, at least since its founding in the 300s. After all, their family—then ‘the crown’ for all of Westeros—had founded the institution. 

She was jealous that they were getting a proper schooling, simply because they were boys. Why shouldn’t she have such an opportunity? She was much smarter. Er, at least smarter than Aegon. Aemond was rather annoying bookish, she knew that from their shared lessons. He could beat her at sums despite her being years older.

It was true her lessons from a septa and maester’s who taught her just as much as the private college would, if not more, it didn’t seem fair. 

And on top of that, though she didn’t admit to them—or to herself, really—that she might miss them too.

.

They had only been gone for three moons when word came—Aemond had been injured rather horribly in a fight. He and his brother were being returned to Dragonstone by the fastest ship their father’s coin could buy, to be attended by the maester’s their own keep had in residence.

Even then, it wasn’t enough to save the eye.

They worried infection would spread and he might lose all his sight. If not his life from fever that could poison his blood. 

Rhaenyra didn’t cry. She didn’t. But her voice might have wavered when she spoke to Aemond after hearing this—unwilling to let the horrors of what had happened to him change her treatment of him.

On the matter of his potential blindness, all she had to say was, “Just think—you have been blessed to see a face as pretty as mine for a decade—that is more beauty than most men get to see in their lifetime.”  

His face was bandaged, and the sliver of eye she could see was cloudy from the high dose of the milk of poppy he was being given for the pain. But he still managed a tiny smile. Tiny for him, even, which was impressive given how he tended to hide them. So different from Aegon, whose face was often dressed in  a wide grin.

“Isn’t it all the more tragic, if i’ve seen such beauty and now have to go without?” He said, his voice sounding small and dry and not like him at all. She wanted to cover his lips with her palm, tell him not to talk until he sounded as he should again. Until he sounded strong. 

“I suppose, then, you must fight—insist to your body and self that you require sight. Perhaps it will permit you to keep it.” She told him. 

“I’m not as stubborn as you, sister, I’m not sure I can.” He admitted.

She huffed, “Consider it a command then—and I know you wish not to disappoint me.” 

He swallowed, and his eyelid fluttered shut. She wondered if she even heard her, but then he nodded slightly and said, “Okay.” 

.

His recovery was surprisingly swift, and infection never came. 

Aegon said it was because Rhaenyra visited so often she scared it away. That earned him a glare. 

“I’m the scary one? Your delusions do you no justice, brother, clearly you forget your twin is a bloodied cyclops!” She screeched. 

“See!” He had claimed, nearly victorious, “Now you shriek like a banshee!” 

“Banshees herald the dead, brother, if I sound like one, perhaps you should be concerned for yourself.” She said, primly. 

He paled and scurried from the room. 

Rhaenyra thought if Aegon was the one who had been injured, she would not have been so attentive. 

He was certainly the most objectionable of her siblings, at least, in all but looks. He had a sweet boyish face that promised to turn into something handsome. Aemond’s features, however, were longer and his expression rather solemn. They were very different—and no matter what she told herself, she would be unable to choose between them if forced to. 

.

When her courses came, they came to her. 

They had questions. They had badgered a poor serving girl into admitting Rhaenyra was bed bound for her monthlies. 

Of course, they had come running to ask Rhaenyra what monthlies were. The end result was their expressions—a mixture of horror and intrigue. 

“You’re bleeding?” Aemond said, rather stunned. “Does it hurt?” He wondered.

She shifted her hips and nodded, “Mhm, but not…not like a wound, rather a great deal of pressure in my abdomen. 

“Does it bleed from there?” Aegon wondered, with a vague gesture to her stomach and a far off expression on his face. 

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, “My navel is not a facet you imbecile, no, it’s—” she flushed, looking down at her lap but carrying on, “It’s between my legs.” She admitted.

Their eyes widened. “Can we see?” Aegon asked.

Rhaenyra sputtered, finding herself at a loss for words.

She settled on a classic response to Aegon’s questions: throwing a book at him. 

.

She had always been rather tactile with her brother’s, in a way she wasn’t—and wasn’t permitted to be—with others. She hadn’t thought much of it, they were siblings, and in a way they were her…well, it would be bad form to call them her serfs for she did not own them, but as their older sister she felt rather entitled to them in every way, and they had little protest to this. 

So they touched. 

She did not ask before grabbing their arm, or sitting next to them, close enough that they knew the feeling of the other’s thigh against their own. She’d crawled into bed with them on stormy nights, tackled them to the ground during games of tag, and shoved them off the cliffs on warm summer days when they were too fearful to dive from them without help. 

It had never meant anything at all. It was just the way of things, the way she treated them.

It didn’t change as they grew older.

Maybe it should have.

.

Aegon was, in her opinion, being an insufferable little jit. He refused to mount his mare, Sunfyre, even though they had agreed over breakfast to ride at this hour.

“I can’t.” He moaned, shifting awkwardly with his hands awkwardly at his crotch. 

Her eyes narrowed.

“Why can’t you?” She asked.

He flushed, before admitting he was hard and when that was hard it was like his whole body was stiff. 

“I don’t believe you.” She said, and then, “You’ll have to show me it.” 

His cheeks were flaming but he obeyed, unlacing his breeches and freeing the tunic that was cut long enough to cover his loins. Sure enough, the dangly bit she’d seen between her brother’s legs in childhood—when they were young enough it was not inappropriate, mind you—had managed to grow and harden into something rather…well…she was blushing now.

“Ugh. Put it away.” She said, turning to Syrax and hiding her rosy cheeks. “I shall take her to the meadow while that…you…whatever.” She said, mounting her saddle and leaving before he could respond. 

.

She thought about it. More than she probably should. She was a curious girl, she wanted to know how it worked. 

It was night time, a few days after that incident, and she slipped into her brothers’ rooms, pulled the covers from Aegon’s nearly nude form, and demanded to see it.

His pale chest was flushed along with his cheeks as she watched him stroke his soft length to something a different shape and size entirely. It was like magic. 

He spilled over his hand, making a mess of himself with his own seed. 

She wanted to touch. 

She wanted to taste. 

She did neither, she simply demanded for him to, “Do it again.” 

.

Aemond’s was different from his brother’s—longer, leaner, not unlike the rest of their forms.  Disappointedly, he was too shy to touch himself in front of her, saying he was too embarrassed to stay hard. 

Well. Then she would have to make him get hard. 

He flinched when she stroked the soft skin, wrinkled and deflated as it lay against his thigh instead of in the stiff erection it had formed a moment ago. 

She wanted her brothers to reach their full potential, always. And wasn’t their full length part of that?

He told her no. 

She reminded him that he never told her that. She was his older sister. 

He had to obey her. He liked obeying her. 

“Please?” She finally said, and he nodded.

He grew harder in her hand, and she kept stroking, fascinated by the difference in feel and weight in her palm, it seemed to throb where it had once been so very soft. It was as if the appendage pounded with its need for release, the sound nonexistent but almost like a tune in her head, the beat of which drowned out Aemond’s pleas, his sounds of pleasure, and even the sound of his release.

She did taste it this time, a curious lick on the white goo that had spilled across his penis and her palm. 

She’d always had a sweet tooth, but no matter how this resembled the drizzle on iced buns, it had no such flavor. 

It was salty. 

Gross.

.

A week later, Aegon kissed a maid. Their father’s hand, Ser Otto Hightower, who was also Aegon’s grandfather, caught them in the halls. This led them to all getting lectures on the matters of intimacy outside of marriage. On the matter of it being a dire sin. 

Rhaenyra hardly heard the septas' words on this matter. She was vibrating with…rage? Jealousy? She wasn’t sure. She just knew the reason for this lecture on the horrors that were intimate interludes out of wedlock were prompted by Aegon’s actions. His intimate interlude. One that did not involve her.

She was Aegon’s older sister and yet she did not know what it was to kiss. But still, surely it should be her duty to teach him such a thing.

Surely she should be his first kiss. 

Surely he should suffer for depriving her of this.

.

She ignored him for the rest of the day. He hated being ignored. 

Then, after changing for bed, she slipped into their shared chambers. Both boys were awake, and on this occasion she slunk past Aegon in pursuit of Aemond.

She would have his first kiss.

He would never know it was her first kiss, too. 

And Aegon would simply have to watch.

.

Eventually he begged and whined to the point where his eyes were red and his nose was snotty. So spoiled. Even though he deserved this for his crime—of seeking a girl other than his sister—she thought he’d been punished enough.

When she kissed him that night, his lips were just as soft as Aemond’s, but they were different, too. He was more forward, more confident—that didn’t come from practice, she didn’t think, but rather his enthusiasm and recklessness that his brother lacked. 

And, of course, his lips tasted of his tears. Salty, though in a way far more pleasant than the taste of seed.

Or perhaps the taste was not so different.

Perhaps she just enjoyed the flavor more when it came from sorrow.

And Aegon was so pretty when he cried. 

.

Both of them grew to expect her kisses—not only when they were in close proximity, but as a reward for bringing her something or completing a favor. 

She thought they were like hounds, expecting a bit of jerky as a treat for being good. 

She played with them as if they were hounds, finding great amusement in promising her lips to whichever sat with the best posture or heeled with the greatest obedience. 

Sometimes she insisted on their nudity in this, for how else could she examine the straightness of their spine and set of their shoulders? 

It had nothing to do with her curiosity of the male form. Of course not.

Though, she would admit to being curious over how their forms changed, their height and structure seeming to grow as they slept if not right before her eyes. 

It seemed just as she had come to terms with having siblings—having brothers—she would have to come to terms with her brothers becoming men. 

.

Aegon found the book. Of course he did. 

While Aemond was studious in his lessons, Aegon searched the library for hidden treasure, an indiscretion he’d practiced for years. Despite this, there were still shelves that had not suffered his scrutiny, for the room and its contents were rather vast. 

Of course, some of the cases he had looked over with careful eyes long ago needed to be examined once more, now that he was older. For as a boy he was rather blind—or rather, had a different definition—to what treasure truly was.

It was a small book, but not shamefully so. It was bound in bright red leather, stamped in gold, and though it lacked an author's name on the title page, the title itself was too distracting for any of them to care;

A Collection of Erotic Postures

They were all varying shades of pink as each page was turned, the black and white engravings lacking color but bringing to light so many things. It was fascinating how the forms fit together.

Man and woman. 

Nymph and satyr. 

Woman and woman.

Man and man.

At first they spoke over their examination of the engravings—sharing their shock with each page that passed. But soon their shock was implied by mere gasps, and no words were shared until the end was reached and the book was closed. 

It was inevitable that they would eventually grow curious enough to try one.

With the light now so very bright, how could they not wish to bring some of the acts to life?

.

Rhaenyra pointed to the sketch on page eight, captioned with;

 Cunnilingue.

[stimulation to the cunnus via leikhein]

Aegon obliged. 

She was slightly surprised, but not displeased by any means, to find that she felt little embarrassment or feelings of self consciousness in front of her brother’s—even with her skirts bundled in her lap, her legs spread, and Aegon’s face buried in the seam that led to her core.

She felt other things though. Good things. Things that had her fingers digging into Aegon’s curled locks and desperately trying to stifle gasps because gods be good this was—

When it was over, Aegon trailed his fingers through the mess, “You’re leaking, still, sister.” 

She said nothing. If she was capable of speech at all, it didn’t matter, for she did not have the ability to find words to respond with, not in that moment.

She should have tried, though, for Aegon was rather smug and took charge while her wits were absent—“You should clean her up, Aemond.” He suggested.

She wasn’t worried, he was much too shy to follow his brother's suggestion. 

Or so she thought. 

He wasn’t as enthusiastic as Aegon, not as messy, either. He nuzzled her with his nose first—seeming to inhale her scent before he set about cleaning all that had spilled from her. It was rather ineffective, though, with how she peaked again in the process. 

After that, speech was not the only thing that left her. She also found it rather difficult to walk.

…that did not stop her from demanding this act again the next day.

.

One day, the boys fought over who could have the pleasure of tasting her. 

She rolled her eyes, they were closer to men now yet still acting like children and she was tired of it. She had just come to tolerate them as brother’s but she had no desire to mother them.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m now longer in the mood.” She said, dropping her skirts and crossing her arms. 

Aegon sputtered, whereas Aemond just looked sad. 

“I mean it, too. If you want to taste lips of any sort today your only option is each other’s.”

She hadn’t really expected them to take this as a command—or perhaps they didn’t, they were just waiting for any mention of such a thing so they could have this opportunity. 

Regardless, the outcome was the same, and they wasted little time in joining their lips. 

They didn’t part their lips until after they had rut together and spilled in their breeches. 

Rhaenyra was…not jealous, exactly, but rather awed by the site of them together. For as annoying as her brothers could be, she had always known they were good looking. But this was somehow intensified several times over when they were together like this.

No, if anything, her frustration stemmed from the fact they had so much clothing on, rather than jealousy. 

Perhaps, though, she was a little aroused.

.

That night, she told Aegon to feast on her folds until she came—then to share her flavor with his brother, using the vessel of his tongue. 

They became hard during—of course they did, everything made them hard.

Boys. 

Men. 

Brothers. 

She told them to take care of the unsightly stiffened lengths, and despite the flush that spread across Aemond’s cheeks she knew from the show that morning that he was not opposed. 

But first, she demanded they remove their sleep clothes. She wanted to see it. See the pulse of their cocks when they came. The ropes of white seed across their pale skin, shining in the moonlight.

She wanted to see them lick it up with their greedy tongues, pink muscle lapping at light skin until the essence was gone and only saliva remained. 

They did. 

After—well, her arousal had bloomed to the point where she demanded Aemond’s mouth, too.

.

They fucked each other long before her. Fears of pregnancy making her weary of having their lengths in her cunt. 

But it was not as if that was the only entry she had…in fact, this was detailed in the red book that they studied with more faithfulness than they ever had to the Seven. 

The engravings showed the act, which involved what they called the,

‘Quim of every human—man and woman, tucked between the cheeks of one's arse.

This hole does not weep the way of a woman’s sheath, it must be greased or oiled — when adequately done,

the receptacle will still squeak, but they will not suffer.’

It spoke the truth. Aegon did squeak as his brother tentatively worked his long fingers into his parted cheeks. 

He had to stifle screams when fingers were replaced by Aemond’s cock. 

And so, this became a new game they played. 

.

She watched them for weeks before deciding to partake. Aegon was enthusiastic in getting her ready, where Aemond was tentative about pressing into her. But in the end they were all breathless—well, except for Aegon, who wasted no time in taking his brother’s place inside her, his path lubricated by his siblings' seed.

It was good, the feeling of being stretched. Of being filled.

She wanted such a sensation somewhere else.

.

She had them—one after the other—in her cunt on her seventeenth name day. It was dangerous, she knew, but she had found notes in a midwifery book that spoke to safe times of the month, calculated by the days following a woman’s courses. And so she had tracked them dutifully for months until there was enough consistency she felt confident.

Even still, she told them they had to pull out. Her cunt would not taste their seed until she was married. 

They obeyed, just as they always did.

Aegon went first, licking her until she came before pressing inside of her—the intrusion one that made them both groan with pleasure. His thrusts were uneven and it was over fast but she could see how one could find pleasure in this act, given enough practice.

He spilled across her stomach, before Aemond took his place.

He was longer. 

The differences in their cocks was obvious when you looked at them, or felt them with your palm. She’d forced their lengths together as they stood, stroking and admiring the width of Aegon’s next to the length of Aemond’s. As if they had the same mass but were formed into different shapes, the same while not being even remotely similar. Quite like the men the appendages belonged to. 

What she knew of their lengths before this was that Aegon’s was more of a challenge to get in, given the width of it. But once deep enough to slide with ease, she thought any intrusion in her rear felt rather the same.

But this.

She understood now, why women were meant to be penetrated here. Every drag of his cock lit up pathways of nerves inside her that made her clench and shiver. She felt the precise shape of him inside of her, the length, the curve, and it all culminated in her peaking—a moment before he pulled from her and spilled across her folds.

Both of them were prompt in how they licked up their seed, lilac eyes looking at her heaving bosom as she attempted to catch her breath, all while they continued to dine upon the masculine syrup coating her creamy flesh.

.

For their sixteenth birthday, she had them both.

Gods.

She did not believe in any faith, really, but this almost made her think some higher power existed. Why else would they bestow men and women with such parts that fit together like this? That felt so good?

She had never felt more powerful in that moment, when she was pressed between them, speared on both of them….and yet she had never felt more vulnerable, either, for she realized how small she now was compared to their forms. They had grown to a point where they could defy her commands, but they didn’t, and she trusted them, even with her body and something like this. 

And for that reason, at that moment, she had never felt closer to them—and not just because she was full of their cocks, with lips pressing kisses to either side of her neck. Though she rather liked that part of this, too.

It was difficult enough to orchestrate that they were only able to have each other this way a handful of times in the following few months. But they hardly went unsatisfied, not with the engravings to guide them and their mouths and fingers eager to thrust when time or locale did not allow for a cock.

It was shaping up to be a rather blissful year, she thought. 

And then, their father died. 

story notes:

the "book" was inspired by later takes on the I Modi, a very erm, inspired, renaissance work with detailed engravings of numerous positions.

this was supposed to have a chapter two in which daemon returned to dragonstone and claimed the title for himself...along with his. brother's children. but due to lack of interest i've scrapped it for now.

[adrift-in-thyme]

I’ve been meaning to make a post like this for a while now but kept forgetting. Since First isn’t widely known I wanted people to have an explanation of who the heck this guy is (and why they should love him). So without further ado

Who is the First Hero?

(All of the following pictures are from the Hyrule Historia)

The First Hero (or First as we call him in the Linked Universe fandom) shows up in a tiny manga at the back of the Hyrule Historia (that’s basically an encyclopedia for Zelda). He isn’t technically canon and doesn’t have a game of his own. But according to the manga he is the first Link, Skyward Sword Link’s predecessor.

He lived in a time when Hylia was still a goddess and before Demise’s first attack. He was a royal knight, much like Hyrule Warriors Link, and seemed to be a man of great respect and esteem. Until, that is, he was framed for an unknown crime and imprisoned.

He remains in the dungeons for four years. Then, when his so called “premonitions of danger” begin to come true, and Demise attacks Hyrule, his people decide “oh, wait! They kinda need a hero now!” So, they set him free and practically beg him to fight for them. He’s understandably bitter about the whole thing, but being the hero he is, he goes out to battle.

No sooner has he agreed to fight, than the goddess Hylia shows up on her crimson loftwing. She has come to battle Demise and help her people escape to safety.

The loftwing looks down upon the humans as weak and cowardly. But Link stands up to him, telling him “there are those among us who have the courage to fight.” The loftwing admires him for the sentiment, but isn’t convinced. He promises to keep watch over him to see if Link is a worthy rider.

With the loftwing gone to the heavens above, Hylia gives Link the Master Sword

Link doesn’t think he is worthy of it after his imprisonment, but Hylia assures him that the sword knows better. It sees beyond his tarnished reputation to the kind, brave man beneath.

Though Link is still bitter about everything he has endured, he swears to fight for his friends. He takes the sword and hones it into something a mortal can wield.

Then, he goes to battle.

Hylia rallies the other races around Hyrule to help the Hylians. Meanwhile, Link and his men fight for seven days. Despite their efforts, Demise begins to burn Hyrule to the ground.

In the end, Link goes to face him, promising to slay him.

But he is badly wounded in the fight. He collapses, weak and near death. Before he can fade away, however, the loftwing shows up and chooses him as his rider.

He swears to ride with the loftwing forever. Shortly afterward, the dragons from Skyward Sword bless the Master Sword with the power of the Triforce. Then, Link gives the sword to Hylia, who carves Hyrule from the earth.

Link retrieves the sword and drives it into the ground, finishing the job and sending Hyrule skyward.

He wants to follow his people to the skies, but his wounds catch up to him. He falls to the ground. In his last moments he promises that his spirit will always be with his people.

Hylia seals Demise away, even as the enraged god promises to prevail. Then, she goes to where her fallen hero lies.

She holds him, crying over him and lamenting the pain he had to endure to become the hero Hyrule needed. Knowing that Hyrule will need their help once more, she then promises to reincarnate them both. Only this time, she will be a mortal.

This story, we learn, becomes legend in the era of Skyward Sword. And the loftwing who Link swore to ride with chooses the child who has his reincarnated spirit, Skyward Sword Link or Sky.

Now, as for First’s standing in LU…I’m know multiple LU fans (myself included) speculate that Jojo will include him at some point. She’s been cryptic about it when asked though, so we don’t know for sure. Neither do we know when he’ll show up (if he does). So, for now, we can only hope.

…and create our own AU’s in the meantime ;)

[imagines--galore]

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Twenty-One

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty,

A/N: All aboard the tear express!

She blinked at the four smiling faces in front of her.

"A vacation?" She parroted what Sokka had just exclaimed. Her unenthusiastic response did deflate a few shoulders, but Aang pushed ahead.

"Yeah! We've been flying around so much that Sokka thought it would be great if we just had a couple of days of pure relaxation. And what better place then at a secluded hot spring." He gestured grandly towards the canyon behind him.

True to his words, the round basin did boast quite an impressive spring that looked inviting. Not to mention it was surrounded from all sides by tall rocky walls, so they could bend to their heart's content.

Looking over his shoulder, Orora pursed her lips before shrugging. "I guess. As long as Sokka doesn't think it'll come in the way of his big trip." She looked towards him.

Where she would've made a little joke about his tendency to over-plan and over-think things, she remained silent. Sokka tried not to let his worry show, so he simply smiled wildly. "Not at all." He said, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Beside, no offense Orora, but we've been traveling more then you have, and I think we've become pros at this traveling thing."

He gave her a grin before stepping away. "Now lets have some good old vacation fun!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air as Toph earthbended the rocky platform they were standing on and down to the water.

Orora remained nearly unfazed.

Prompting Aang and Katara to share a look of worry.

                                           ————————–

This was ridiculous.

This wasn't a vacation.

They were being sent away. That was it.

It had to be.

Scowling to himself, Zuko shoved the last of his clothes into the bag he would be taking to Ember Island. What in the Spirit World had possessed his father to have them go on a trip to relax?

How could he think about relaxing when all his mind could think about was Orora and nothing else.

Well not nothing else, there was the fact that Aang was still alive. But that hardly mattered.

What mattered was going away to Ember Island meant he would be mostly alone with his own thoughts. Not that he wasn't alone here, he was always by himself. But at least there were ways to distract himself. Practicing his firebending and learning the more advanced sets, using his Dao swords to keep his skills with the weapons sharp, reading in the library and learning the more intricate ways the Fire Nation worked.

His father was actually rather impressed with how fast he was progressing. He had no idea, that his son was working himself to the bone so he wouldn't have to think of her.

Then again, no matter how much he tried, there was no escaping her.

She was always there, in the back of his mind, lingering just beyond his conscious thoughts.

Opening the door beside his bed, he paused. His gaze was fixed upon the comb he had kept near him since his return to the Fire Nation. He wasn't doing himself any favors by keeping it with him. Looking at it everyday just reminded him of the fact that they weren't together.

And would likely never be together since she was out there and he was here.

Right, he scoffed to himself, as if that were the only reason for the distance between them, he thought as that all too familiar guilt licked along just under his skin.

Shaking his head, he picked up the comb and wrapping it carefully in a red silk cloth, placed it at the very bottom of his bag under a false opening lest someone, his sister, find it.

                                           ————————–

"Hey Orora!"

She looked up from where she had been flicking tiny stones with the tip of her finger and into the water. The small plinking of the stones as they hit the surface of the water was oddly comforting. Toph approached her with a determined gait and a grin on her lips.

"You promised me a bending duel." She said, pointing a finger at the older girl. She'd already dressed down to her swimming outfit, everyone had really. Orora had stayed dressed.

"So come on Ice Princess! There isn't much metal around, but that won't stop me from beating your butt." She added with a slight punch to her shoulder. Orora rubbed the sore spot before sighing deeply. "Not right now Toph." She finally said, turning her attention back to staring at the water. "I'm tired."

Toph stayed standing behind Orora for a good few minutes, though the other girl didn't even notice. She continued her little game of flicking tiny stones into the water. Her heartbeat felt so slow and dull, Toph realized, looking worriedly back at Sokka who was standing just a few paces away.

He moved forward, placing a hand on her shoulder and pulling her back. Toph followed his lead, though not before looking back sadly at the girl she looked up to and had come to consider as an older sister.

She hadn't even noticed the new nickname Toph had given her.

                                           ————————–

"Hey Orora!"

It was midday, and the other four had been swimming for quite some time now, but everyone was starting to get hungry and Sokka had opted to catch them their lunch.

Which he decided was the perfect opportunity to teach Orora how to fish.

The girl in question looked up from where she had been sitting on Appa's tail. The bison didn't seem to mind, and it was better then sitting on the rocky floor. At least his tail was soft. She tore her gaze away from the never-ending blue sky overhead to blink at Sokka. "Yeah?" She said, her voice lacking any emotion. Despite the worry gnawing at his heart, Sokka grinned.

"Remember I promised I'd teach you some more stuff other then hand to hand." He paused, waiting for her to respond, but she stayed silent. Clearing his throat he continued. "Well! I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to teach you how to fish!" So saying he whipped out a fishing rod and with a hook at the end of it, which he had been unsuccessfully hiding behind his back.

The boy grinned. "Come on! It'll be fun, and you can even use your waterbending to find some fish, though I would prefer we do it the old fashioned way." He added, flicking the rod and catching the bottom of his shirt in the hook. It caught the fabric, making him scowl in annoyance as he tried to pull it out.

Though he stopped when Orora sighed. "Not right now Sokka." She said in a low voice, turning so her back was to him and she could instead look across the spring in front of her. "I'm tired."

The exact same response as she had given Toph, and maybe it was his imagination, but she sounded even more sadder then before. Glancing over his shoulder he caught the worried look on his sister's face. She gestured for him to step away and he did.

But not before he glanced back at Orora. She may be older then him by a few months, but that didn't mean he didn't worry about her like he did Katara.

He did manage to catch some fish, and he did notice that Orora's fish went untouched.

                                           ————————–

"Hey Orora!"

It was almost evening, the sun had begun to set and the sky was turning a pretty pink and orange. She'd been staring at the sky for quite some time now, but at the sound of her name, she lifted her head.

It felt so heavy that she almost dropped right back.

Katara smiled above her. "You know it's gonna be a clear night and the moon will be out." She gestured to the large body of water that was at their disposal. "I could teach you some new waterbending forms and maybe you could teach me that new technique you came up with. I'd love to use my legs and feet for waterbending too."

The young girl looked at her eagerly. There was no way Orora would be able to resist the chance to learn some new forms. Nor would she pass up teaching what she had taught to Katara. Early on Orora had told her how much she enjoyed teaching someone something, anything really. So long as she knew what she was doing effected someone's life in a positive manner.

However, Katara's hopes were in vain. "Not right now Katara." She said the exact same words she had told Sokka and Toph. "I'm tired." The words sounded rehearsed, as if she had been repeating them over and over in her head, just so she could say them correctly.

The hopeful look in Katara's soft blue eyes diminished as she watched her older sister turn away from her and lay there as if she were.........

Tears stung her eyes and she nearly reached out to grab Orora's shoulder. But a hand on hers stopped her. She looked up at Aang who shook his head. Sighing in defeat, Katara stepped back. Aang squeezed her hand in comfort as the both of them walked away to where Sokka and Toph stood waiting.

"Now what?" Toph asked. Aang sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the still form of his older sister. "Now, I try to get through to her my way."

                                           ————————–

"Hey Orora."

Her position hadn't changed from where she'd been staring up at the sky. She had been observing the changing colors of the sky, she now focused on the twinkling stars. At the sound of her name, she shifted her head to look at Aang.

It felt too heavy for her to even lift.

Still she did, just in time to catch Aang reaching out to her with a hand. "Come sit by the fire." He said, smiling softly at her. It wasn't a request like Katara, Sokka and Toph's had been earlier that day.

Closing her eyes briefly, she reached out to take his hand, pulling herself up. A wave of dizziness washed over her, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything the entire day, and very little the day before. While she tried the gather her bearings, Aang led her towards the fire around which the rest of their little group sat.

They were all watching silently as she finally settled, taking her place in the small circle. Aang moved a little to the side, though he sat down next to her.

"Orora." He began. "We're all worried about you."

She stayed quiet.

"You haven't been eating, you're barely sleeping and you haven't bended for days now. Even when the meteor fell, you stayed with Appa instead of helping." He paused. "The Orora I know would never stand by and do nothing."

Katara shifted forward a little from where she sat on Orora's other side. "When we were at that polluted river, you didn't even put up a fight to help those people. You would never turn your back on anyone, so why didn't you do anything then?" Orora simply continued staring into the fire. As had become the norm for her, her legs were pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them.

Standing up, Sokka moved to the space between his Katara and Orora. "Whatever it is that you're going through Orora, you need to tell us. We only want to help." He encouraged, as Toph stood as well, moving to stand beside Aang.

"He's right, its been effected your heart as well. I've noticed it sometimes skips a beat and that could be dangerous." The firelight flickered against her unseeing eyes, as Aang reached out to gently take Orora's hand.

"Orora, I think its time you tell them."

A little startled, the girl looked up. For the first time in days there was a flicker of emotions that played along her features as she stared at Aang. He smiled sadly. "You stepped up when all of us were broken beyond repair." The young Avatar said, his voice suddenly carrying the wisdom of all his past lives. "You took care of all of us. Kept us from breaking apart completely."

He squeezed her hand. "You are a part of our family Orora, and family helps each other. They stand by each other, so no matter what you will say or whatever your choice might be, we will stand by you."

Ice blue eyes blinked, shifting from Aang to Toph, who wore the same smile as Aang. Her head moved to look at the siblings from her sister tribe. Each of them wore encouraging looks, and yet there was that worry glinting in their eyes.

She didn't like seeing it there. They shouldn't be worried about her.

A long pause followed. One where her heart warred with her mind. The former begged her to reveal everything, to unburden what she had carried for so long. The latter clouded her thoughts with nothing but darkness.

That was it.

Nothing but darkness.

"There's a strange darkness in my mind." She began, taking her hand back from Aang and staring into the fire once more. "Growing up I've seen dark before, but not like this. Never like this." She shook her head almost desperately, as if trying to get rid of whatever plagued her mind.

"I don't know what it is, but I know the source of it." A hand on her shoulder had her flinching, but she continued. "Its the knowledge that my s-soul-soulm-ate betrayed me."

Her very voice tripped on the word, the syllables heavy on her tongue.

"Your soulmate?" Katara gasped from beside her. Orora nodded. "Aang knows who he is, but I asked him to keep it a secret." She added, lest the other three tell him off for not telling them.

A pause once more, before Sokka spoke. "Who's your soulmate Orora?"

Another beat of silence.

"Prince Zuko."

Deathly silence, even the creatures of the night seemed to have gone into shock.

Katara and Sokka looked to Aang behind Orora's head, to see him nod in confirmation, his lips pressed in a thin line. Where they had been standing, Sokka and Toph sat down, forming something of a circle around Orora.

Reaching out, Katara gently took the older girl's hand and began to stroke the soft skin. "Tell us everything." She encouraged.

And so, within the comfort of her new family, Orora began to recount the whole tale.

She told them everything, and as she did each memory seemed to play out in the fire crackling in front of her. The young waterbender left out no detail, spilling what had been festering within her for so so long.

Every moment shared.

Every word spoken.

Every glare they exchanged.

Every fight they had.

Every realization she made about him.

Every time he showed the humanity in him.

Every time the trust between them grew.

Every time she would set him straight.

Every smile.

Every secret he confided in her.

Every laugh.

Every time he helped her.

Every tear.

Every time he comforted her.

Every fear.

Every time she comforted him.

Every insecurity.

Every hope that was born based on everything that happened.

Every embrace.

Everything.

She spoke until she had nothing left to say.

Until her throat felt raw from talking for so long after such a lengthy bout of silence.

"But in the end, none of it mattered." She whispered. "Because he betrayed me. He betrayed his Uncle. But that wasn't what hurt me the most." She let out a airy laugh of disbelief.

"What hurt me the most was that he betrayed himself." All four listeners looked at each other in surprise. "He went back to the people who hurt him, because he wanted his old life back, and in doing so, he betrayed himself."

Another laugh, this one broken in place as she pressed the heal of her palm against her forehead. "And that hurt more then anything. More then the fact that he betrayed me. That I couldn't do anything. That I wasn't enough for him." Another laugh that echoed across the water. "Me. His soulmate. I wasn't enough for him. How foolish and naive does one have to be to believe in that?"

Finally she looked up from the fire, her eyes burning with several emotions that none of them could identify.

"You weren't naive or foolish Orora." Aang finally spoke. "You did what any other soulmate would do when they meet their other half." His grey eyes flickered towards his own soulmate for a brief second. "You hoped, and that is neither naive nor foolish."

Letting out a growl of frustration, the girl stood up, moving to walk around the fire so she could stand in front of the edge of the Spring. "And what good did that bring me?" She asked, no demanded to know as she rounded back on all of them.

"Only heartbreak and a lesson that having a soulmate is nothing but torture." Whatever emotions she was feeling in that moment seemed to overflow from her very being. The water behind her trembled.

"I mean, Toph will never be able to know who her soulmate is because she can't see her string." The girl in question looked on sadly at her older heartbroken sister.

"Your soulmate turned into the moon Sokka, you can never be with her only watch from far away and wander what might have been." Sokka's eyes flickered to the moon as it shone just behind his raging sister.

She fell silent as her blue gaze flickered between Katara and Aang. Despite the plethora of emotions she was feeling, she would never betray the trust they had in her.

"Its just.......its just........." She raised her clenched hands to the side of her head for a brief moment. "Despite everything he did, I miss him. I miss him so much that I can barely breath." On of her hands dropped to her chest where her heart raged within. "I'm just numb. I thought I was building a new life, a better life. With him. How could I be such a fool?" The surface of the water behind her began to move, creating small ripples that lapped against the bank where she stood. With every word she spoke her vice began to grow in volume.

"And yet I grieve for the life I knew with him." The waves grew a little more. "I would've followed him anywhere, but he's gone to a place I can never........"

That strange feeling in her throat intensified and her eyes pricked, growing hotter by the second. But she continued.

"This grief that I feel." Her voice began to reach a crescendo. "It's pulling me down." Every eye was trained behind her where the water trembled. "And I don't know how to fight against it anymore!" She screamed.

Her arms came swinging to her sides in a wide arc.

And the water behind her rose in a giant tidal wave. Only to transform into huge spikes of ice and freeze in place.

Orora was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling. There was an almost desperate look in her eyes as she looked from one pair of eyes to the other. The feeling in her throat intensified, and an ache began to form in her chest. Overwhelmed, the girl fell to her knees.

"Your heart just skipped a beat again." Toph called, as all of them quickly moved to surround her. Orora clutched at her throat, her breathing coming out in ragged pants as she turned her panic filled eyes to Sokka.

Suddenly he understood.

Reaching out he grasped her by the shoulders.

"Orora, you have to let go." He urged her. "After Yue, I tried to hold it all in too. And I did for a while, but its not a good thing. Holding back is never a good thing."

She stared at him.

"Just......" He reached up to brush something from the corner of her eye. Something wet. A tear?

"Let go."

A sniffle echoed against the icy wall she had just created. Her entire body trembled. Her eyes grew hotter as she squeezed them shut.

That strange feeling in her throat rose up and escaped from between her lips in the form of a cry that echoed with the utter heartbreak she had been experiencing for the past three weeks.

And for the first time in her life, Orora cried.

She cried with her heart, her body, her mind, her voice, her eyes, her very soul.

She cried and cried, loud sobs wrenching from her fragile body. Katara was the first one to gather her in her arms and hold her, just like Orora had held her all those weeks ago when Aang had been in a coma. Tears pricked her own eyes as she listened to the girl sob over the loss and betrayal that she had kept to herself for so long.

Sokka, Aang and Toph joined the embrace at the same time. Their arms wrapped around Orora, the older sister they had so sorely needed. That they had lacked in their family. They would stand by her, just as she had stood by them. And after so long of barely any reaction from her, seeing her finally release all those emotions was a comfort.

Behind them the icy wall slowly dissipated, the water melting away into the Spring. With every passing second, the trembling in her body subsided, and her sobs began to quieten, her breath slowly evening out.

Until finally, after a night that seemed to have lasted an eternity, it all ended.

And Orora, in the comfort of her family's embrace, fell asleep.

And this time, she did not dream.

                                           ————————–

Amber eyes widened at the sight.

There she was, standing in the moonlight once more. But this time, she wasn't looking at him in that disappointed manner, nor was she berating him or even speaking to him.

No, she simply stood there, looking at him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

During the whole time he had known her, Zuko had never seen her cry.

Be sad yes, but never cry.

Yet there she was. Crying and looking so utterly heartbroken that it broke his heart all over again.

"Orora?" He called out, stepping forward, hand raised as if to reach out and touch her.

"Why're you.....?" The words died in his throat as she continued to sob silently. Not a single sound escaped her.

Slowly, she raised her hand, her finger pointing towards him.

Zuko stared at her wide eyed as the realization settled in his chest, so heavy that it actually physically hurt him.

Him.

She was crying because of him.

Shame colored his tone, and tears pricked his own eyes as he stepped forward. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Orora, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry." He called out to her.

He wanted to reach out to her, touch her, comfort her like she had done him so many many times.

But he couldn't.

She was nothing but a mirage his mind had conjured.

Nothing but an illusion.

And while Zuko was being tortured by how own mind, a certain knife-wielding girl stood in the shadows, watching the Prince with narrowed eyes.

Watching as he spoke to someone who was not there.

                                           ————————–

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[rayshippouuchiha]

I have a JJK x Naruto Crossover I think you'd like

So it's in the Naruto world, but curses and cursed energy exist as a separate thing from chakra. Jujutsu schools are scattered across the Nations, working together to keep the curses from destroying the world.

Shinobi and sorcerers really do not like each other. The shinobi hate how uncertain they are of the sorcerers loyalty as sorcerers consider themselves to be loyal to each other rather than any of the countries they are in. They often refuse to let sorcerers into the villages. The only reason they haven't all been killed is because although chackra can't kill a curse they can see them and seal them like bijuu. Sorcerers hate shinobi because while they're sacrificing their lives to protect the world the shinobi are actively creating more curses with their warfare and preventing the sorcerers from killing the curses in the villages. Also shinobi sometimes use sealed curses as weapons, which is stupid and bad.

Sidenote real fast, Hoshigaki Kisame isn't part of the Akatsuki here because Gojo was like, "hmm. I need a teacher to teach my students shinobi things so they don't get assassinated. I think this weird shark guy would be great!" So Kisame is living his best life getting to be a nice, loyal guy and is one of the only shinobi that sorcerers tolerate.

The main plot of this AU is related to the bijuu. You know how in Naruto the bijuu have the ability to sense malice and sometimes go out of their way to kill evil humans? Well in this AU what they are actually sensing is cursed energy and their job is to disperse large build ups of cursed energy to keep the formation of cursed spirits down. They are deeply venerated and respected by sorcerers for this. So guess who was absolutely furious when the shinobi started sealing them?

The only reason the sorcerers haven't gone to war over the whole thing is because without the bijuu, they're being stretched thinner and thinner as they try to keep the cursed spirit population down. Death rates among sorcerers have easily doubled or tripled, as, even if there's still very few special grades, there's just so many of the weaker ones.

This whole thing makes Geto even worse than in canon.

So in the midst of all this tension, Team Seven runs into Gojo's first year students on some kind of mission involving missing nin creating curses on purpose. Between Naruto's naruto-ness and Itadori's friendliness, they actually manage to work together and are a little friendly by the end of it.

And then it somehow comes out that Naruto is the ninetales jinchuuriki and the jjk kids lose their shit. Even Sukuna's upset, he just found out about the whole thing and his belief in humanity somehow dropped further into the negatives than it already was.

Like, they are genuinely ready to kill Naruto over this, and team seven is so confused because they were friendly a second ago, and then both their teachers show up and everything gets worse.

And the thing is, most shinobi don't know about the bujuu-sorcerer connection. The general run of the mill shinobi barely knows anything about sorcerers, and team seven actually learned more than their teachers ever told them on this mission. And it would be so confusing and stressful for them to realize that the monster that they all fear is a respected colleague to these people, and the bijuus loss is genuinely killing the sorcerers.

Just the idea that the monster sealed inside of him isn't a monster, that it was sealed wrongfully, would break Naruto a little bit.

I don't know where this would end up going. Having Kenjaku and Madara/Obito pulling shit at the same time would be a nightmare. I just really like the idea of sorcerers and shinobi having to deal with each other, and of the ninja having to think about the fact that sealing a living being and using them as a battery and weapon for a century is really fucked up, and it's no wonder they try to kill you every time they get out.

This is absolutely delightful and I need 100k of it stat

[sbtorms]

SUNSETTER - An Undertale roleswap take

A couple months back I started making a concept for an Underswap take. I'm happy with what I've made thus far.

Long ago, Monsterkind and Humanity lived together in harmony. But a war sparked, and the peace shattered. The monsters, overpowered, made a bunker, and hid underground. The humans, discovering this, created a machine to keep monsterkind from leaving it, hoping their opponents would eventually die out. And the war soon was long forgotten...

... Eventually, in the year of 202X, a story unfolds.

On the surface are the caverns of Night's Aura. Underneath the earth lies the refuge of Monsterkind...

A bit of information before we get onto characters...

This is a human's SPIRIT, the very essence of one's being. A monster's spirit, containing seven human's spirits, would become godlike.

Anyways...

The first character swap on the AU is...

A Flowey - Frisk swap!

Finley is a human kid, around 15 years old. They're a bit of a brat. After running away from home, they hide away in a cave. Picking up sticks to make a fire, they unfortunately discovered some loose ground, and fell into the SETTLEMENT.

The Human is... a human? Maybe. They seem a bit... undead, though. A silent type, seemingly not talking at all. Who knows if they can. They hide and watch from the shadows, acting on instinct alone. No one seems to know they exist. What even are they?

Next is your average Asgore - Toriel swap!

Asgore is the guide to the OL' TOWN from the OUTSKIRTS, and one who used to be the king of Monsterkind. He's a big fuzzy pushover, just like in Undertale. He's beloved by all in the area. It's a wonder why he's so far from the captial... but he's there to give hope to all that lives in Town.

Toriel is the keeper of the BARRICADE, and the queen of Monsterkind. As of now, all know how she tires from the situation she's in. Many fear her wrath, but others know her warmth. With her mighty blade, Queen TORIEL will set all free.

As with most Underswap takes, you can't have it without the usual Papyrus - Sans swap!

Papyrus is a skeleton who's lost his ambition. Due to certain circumstances, a goal he once had is completely out of reach. Due to this, he's become a bit more... distant. He's not lazy by any means, but he has a hard time getting up in the morning. Besides all of that, he still shares some visions and ideals as his original self. Though, perhaps someone can come by and help him...

Sans is also a skeleton. The Skeleton, even. He's mainly very similar to his original lazybones self. But he's gotten a little more upbeat and extroverted, in an attempt to help his brother get back to his former greatness. There isn't much else to add, actually. At the core, he really is still Sans, puns, pranks, and all. Though, he does have a few jobs, including working as an assistant for a magical girl vigilante. Though, it's mainly just taking phone calls. They'd be met through SNOHFAL CAVERNS and the CITY OF SNOHFALIN

I decided to do something interesting for my Alphys - Undyne swap, but the usual thing is still like the average one.

Alphys is the aforementioned magical girl style vigilante in the WETLANDS, trying to make a name for herself. The matters of protection throughout the SETTLEMENT had lessened before she started, due to certain circumstances. She's gotten herself a few fans, stopped a few crimes, supported the local soup kitchen... But she still feels like there's more she can do. Toriel's stressed, and she knows this. So, maybe... she can try to get the next fallen human's SPIRIT on her own.

Undyne is the Queen's Royal Engineer, and a rather good one at that. She's made various ways of making the settlement, and the lives of those that reside in it, better. Though, there's nothing that outdoes the previous ones's greatest creation, MEGA, a generator that powers the entire Settlement. She resides in a laboratory in PYROCLAST Due to certain circumstances, she's much more determined to get the next fallen human's SPIRIT. She's enlisted the help of a ghostly friend of hers to help her do so.

The Blook Cousins have a different swapping arrangement from normal Underswap Napstablook - Dummy Mettaton - Mad Dummy/Mew Mew

Scarecrow is, well... a scarecrow. A ghost monster possessing a scarecrow, actually. Despite their name, and weird face, they're actually rather shy. They probably just need a little cheering up once in a while. They also really like music.

Bittinaugh (pronounced: bitty-naff) is just your average ghost monster. They don't talk much, though. Who really knows what goes on in that little ghost's head. They're also a shy sort, and a bit sensitive, despite their monotonous expression.

Starcrow is also a ghost monster possessing a scarecrow. Though, they have VERY high aspirations for themself. They wish to be a celebrity, a star for the whole SETTLEMENT to enjoy. After learning about a human's fall through their cousin, they decided that a perfect start to showbiz would be to face one head on!

The "Mad Mew Mew" boss would have them possess a big gundam-like figure, with similarities to Mettaton EX.

Amornalek (pronounced: a-more-na-leck) seems to be your average robotic suit of armor, but she's actually a VENGEFUL SPIRIT!!! Or... just an angry ghost monster possessing the suit. She works with Undyne, and is her best friend... and training dummy for battle practice. They two spar a lot, and it's fun for the both of them. Undyne souped-up her with a TON of weapons. Magic, missiles, knives, a LOT of knives, those knives were kinda Amor's idea.

There's an "EX" form, but I haven't designed it. It would be similar to Mad Mew Mew, but not exactly. It'd also go for more of a mix of cute-yet-violent in design than just cute.

And finally, Asriel - Chara

Both of them are... more or less the same as in canon. Their life and death are more or less the same. It's just that Undyne was allowed by Queen Toriel to use Chara's corpse for a... certain experiment. Being allowed to do so was due to desperation, and the idea of at least seeing one of her children alive again.

But that's another story. ... Which I'm gonna tell right now.

SOW-WOS - The "Willpower" Experiments

There was an attempt by Undyne to make stronger monsters/warriors, beings able to get past and destroy the barricade. All of the monsters that were experimented on were volunteers, rather than just being on death's door like in Undertale. Each and every volunteer was a member of that time's current Royal Guard.

Each volunteer was given a machine put inside their bodies that courses Willpower, a lifeblood extracted from the previously collected human SPIRITs, throughout their body.

Unfortunately, the volunteers start to become a metallic-like fluid, an immense pull making them come together. Their bones and joints reconfigured within the combined masses. The fluid hardens and loses polarity as they turn from magnetic fluid, to almost a hard metal, like titanium.

The amalgamates form, with a distinct taste in the air... similar to that of copper.

These experiments, Undyne couldn't reveal the full results of, so she locked the masses down below the main lab. She simply recorded that they perished in the experimentation. And what makes things worse, is that the body of the deceased human had disappeared. Learning this, Toriel completely disbanded the Royal Guard, not wanting something like this to happen again. She put Undyne on probation, yet did not completely fire her. The whole thing was an accident, completely unexpected, and the subjects were volunteers. It was not Undyne's fault. But to Undyne, it was. With that on her shoulders, she made it her new mission to get the next human's SPIRIT... By any means necessary.

[crystalrabbit246912]

Twisted Wonderland Hero & Villain AU

In a world filled with so-called heroes, villains, and vigilantes, Yuu finds themselves questioning who truly falls on each side of the line.

I imagine the first-years as the vigilantes in this scenario. Ace and Deuce are partners, while Jack, Epel, Ortho, and Sebek work solo, though they often team up for bigger missions.

Ace started for the praise because he didn't want to be a hero, but the gratitude and genuine thankfulness of the people he saves keeps him coming back, though he won't admit it.

Deuce started to make up for being a delinquent and bully in the past, as well as giving him a reason to fight honestly for once, and he keeps doing it because he loves how it feels.

Jack, Epel, and Sebek started because they kept jumping into fights as civilians and eventually decided to do that more, just with masks on to protect their identities.

Ortho kind of works as a guy in the chair for the others, though he sometimes goes out on his own. Idia leaves him to his own devices unless he needs help for something big.

The rest of the gang is a villain group, called the Night Ravens, who are split into seven different factions. Each faction has a different specialty.

The Heartslabyul faction does the legal work whenever one of their members get caught, so members rarely get convicted. They also run some of the food supply and social media for the group as a whole.

The Savanaclaw faction works as brute force most of the time, though the first and second in commands are brilliant at strategy and thievery respectively.

The Octavinelle faction runs most of the business side of their legal operations, with some help from the Heartslabyul and Ignihyde heads, as well as some brute force.

The Scarabia faction works mainly as strategists and interrogators, so they don't get seen, go out, or get captured much. The head is great for morale, while the second is brilliant at acting and micromanaging.

The Pomefiore faction brings in most of the money for their operations, since many of their members work in the acting, modeling, and brewing industries. They also do most assassinations, since they work a lot with poisons.

The Ignihyde faction runs comms, surveillance, and technology for operations. They work behind the scenes most of the time, and very few members have gotten caught.

The Diasomnia faction is a wild card and mixed bag, so you have no idea what their talents are. Some are very talented with magic, others with hand to hand combat, and so on.

And then you have Yuu, the exhausted med student who just stopped to pick up a cat off the streets one day and helped a villain one time, and now they just keep showing up at their door.

Names:

Vigilantes:

Ace- Trickery (The others call him Red for symmetry)

Deuce- Blue

Jack- Wolf (Orange for symmetry)

Epel- Poison Apple/Apple for short (Purple for symmetry)

Ortho: Wisp (Blue for symmetry)

Sebek- Fae (Green for symmetry)

(As you can see, none of the first-years nor me are creative people)

Villains:

Riddle- Queen

Trey: King/Mad Hatter

Cater: White Rabbit/Camera

Leona: Lion (He was feeling lazy)

Ruggie: Thievery/Hyena

Azul: Mostro/Octopus (He wants to go by Mostro, Leona calls him Octopus and it kind of stuck)

Jade/Floyd: Eels (together, since they run most missions together)

Jade: Omphalotus illudens (mushroom name. Everyone just calls him by his name, especially since if someone overheard, Jade is a female name)

Floyd: He changes it every other week so they just use his name as well

Kalim: Sultan/Sunlight/Apollo

Jamil: Viper (It's literally his last name, but no one wanted to go against him and they didn't think that anyone would connect it to Jamil Viper)

Vil: Fairest

Rook: Hunter of Beauty (They just call him Hunter for short)

Idia: Spirit (He and Ortho kind of match, which was what both they and I were going for)

Malleus: Dragon/Draconia/Horns

Lilia: Bat/Mischief

Silver: Knight

And obviously, RSA is the hero group in this scenario.

Chenya: Cheshire

Neige: Snow/White

And after Yuu gets dragged into this whole mess:

Yuu: Ghost/Athena (They were lazy and wanted to name themselves Ghost, but Vil said no and named them Athena and one of the two stuck)

Extra:

Malleus is the one that Yuu finds injured in an empty alleyway. Don't ask me how someone managed to injure him, maybe iron or silver works on the fae. Yuu calls him Tsunotaro/Hornton and drags him to their apartment, where Grim the cat hisses at him.

Extra pt. 2:

Leona is the one to pick Malleus up because he was the only one that was free and Yuu's mental grasp on the villain's competency is rapidly dropping to bedrock.