#this came a little out of nowhere but i read this headcanon some time ago and i just can't put my head around it

[eoieopda]

sweatshirt season | ksy

your fuck buddy is good at a lot of things. taking hints isn’t one of them.

pairing: kwon soonyoung x reader type: one-shot / fluff + smut rating: 18+ (minors do not have my consent to interact) au: one-night-stand to fuck buddies to ? wc: 4.5k cw: gn! and afab!reader (no pronouns used); time skips; protected penetrative sex (p in v); hoshi is kinda a himbo, lmao; ft. cameo by minghao and roomate!gn!sibling OC; reference to the movie they're watching, which is hereditary (brief mention of decapitation + demonic possession); barely proofread, sorry! a/n: this is based on a headcanon i did a while ago! i've been in such a horrible rut re: writing for the past month and a half, so it was a major struggle to write this because i feel like i don't know how to do that anymore 😵‍💫 i'm hoping that himbo hoshi can save me from this hell. also, this is told in vignettes!

[APRIL]

“Babe?”

The voice from nowhere is barely loud enough to drag you from sleep, but the effect it has on you is far from soft. Those consonants dig in where your dehydrated brain shrinks away from your skull, pressing in so hard that they throb. 

Bleary-eyed, you blink as rapidly as you can to adjust to the bright, white light beaming in through your open shades. The sound that escapes you is something akin to a hiss; it gets the point across, nonetheless. You sit up just enough to see the figure standing in front of your window, looming overhead with crossed arms, laughing. 

Clearly, your roommate doesn’t give a shit or a fuck about your hangover.

“What’s the deal with the stray you brought home last night?” Mei asks, the corners of their mouth tilting wickedly. 

You don’t have the brain power for this conversation, so you respond with a groan and bury your face back in the pillow from whence it came. Never one to give up, Mei drops down on top of you so that the full weight of their body rests against yours.

“C’mon,” they urge. “Spill your guts, chingu.”

Funnily enough, if they don’t get off your guts, you might do exactly that.

Your reply comes in the form of a croak, some pathetic little sound that reads as lifeless as you feel. “Why do you care?”

There isn’t a single reason you can think of for their sudden interest in your bad decisions. You’ve been making them left and right for the past few months without much more than a concerned glance, and until now, you didn’t realize that you’d taken the lack of follow-up questions for granted. 

What a fucking travesty it is to be perceived.

“Your business is your business.” Mei shrugs. You quirk an eyebrow, ready to jump in and point out their lapse in logic, but then that smirk comes back. “But your business is currently burning eggs in our kitchen, which makes it my business, too.”

Sitting up quickly, the force of your sudden moves nearly knock Mei to the ground. Beyond horrified, you squeak, “He’s still here?”

Faster than you’ve ever moved before, you clamber out from underneath your roommate and crawl to the edge of your bed, kicking wildly at your blankets until your legs are free. 

You’re already up and swaying on your feet, panting from the effort,  when you finally think to look down and assess the state of yourself. Thankfully, you’d remembered to dress yourself before falling asleep. You glance upward and salute whatever deity was looking out for you, ignore the look on Mei’s face entirely, and dash out of your bedroom.

As soon as you reach the kitchen, you skid to a stop, socks sliding across the hardwood until your hip bone collides with the corner of the kitchen island. You hiss again, far louder than the last time. The shape standing at your stove turns around wide-eyed; his mouth is frozen in the shape of an “o”.

Just as quick, recognition flashes, and the shock wears off.

“Good morning,” he chirps, and he’s all fucking sunshine.

You blink back at him without a single idea of where to start  ��� with the fact that he’s still here after you could’ve sworn he left, that he’s wearing your apron but has no clear grasp on the simple act of frying eggs, or that you cannot for the life of you remember his name.

Fuck.

You should really start keeping a guest book.

Whatever his name is, he’s witnessing you at your worst — certifiably crusty with your standard bad attitude — and that alone makes you want to wither and die, right on the spot. Unbothered by your ghoulish appearance, he gestures to the kitchen island you just collided with, pointing to a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.

Items he would’ve had to open two (2) separate cabinets to find. 

In the kitchen he shouldn’t even be in.

You open your mouth, primed to explode all over him, but the way he’s looking at you disarms you immediately. His expression is so chipper — so friendly and childlike in its innocence — that you swallow down the shit you’d readily hurl at anyone else. You gulp, and without saying a word in acknowledgement, you grab what he’s laid out for you.

He smiles when you choke down the aspirin, then turns back around to pull the scrambled, half-burnt mess off the burner. 

“You must have a pretty low alcohol tolerance if you’re this hungover after three drinks,” he muses.

It’s an accurate observation — a harmless one, too — but you did not ask. Once again, he shoots you a smile that prevents you from snapping at him. Instead, you set the now-empty glass back down on the island and stare vacantly over at him.

Seonghwa? 

“You’re still here,” you say flatly. You may be stating the obvious, but that fact speaks for itself. “You’re still here, and you’re also in my kitchen.”

Seokjin, maybe?

He smiles at this, either unaware that he’s violated the unwritten one-night-stand code of conduct or unfazed by his own rule breaking. Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughs awkwardly, “It was the least I could do, you know? After all you —”

What the fuck is your name?

“Sungwoo!” You cut him off with a gasp and a palm raised, all but begging him not to recount what he’s grateful for within earshot of your roommate. “Really, you don’t need to do this. Any of this.”

He corrects you gently, “It’s Soonyoung.” 

Then, without even a hint of offense taken, he nods his head towards one of the stools tucked under the counter of the island. Your eyes flit between his hopeful face and the seat, frozen solid with indecision.

You see two options, and both feel like a trap:

Holding the line risks squashing this clueless boy’s marshmallow heart; and you don’t want to be the gash that ruins his day at the very outset. If you feed the stray — rather, if you let the stray feed you — then you’re an enabler, contracting a residency when the show was supposed to be one-night-only.

More perceptive than you’ve given him credit for so far, he senses the conflict inside your skull and attempts to tip the scale with a bread-cheeked smile and a shoulder wiggle. “Your breakfast is getting cold,” he nudges in a soft, sing-song tone. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Begrudgingly, you dump yourself onto a stool without a word. With your elbows now propped up on the countertop, you drop your chin down to rest on the heels of your hands. More than anything, you try like hell to ignore the way it all makes his face light up.

“I don’t understand how you went from demonically hot to…” Your voice trails off as you try to find a word for whatever this is. A beat passes before you give up, waving dismissively. “Domesticated, or whatever.”

And his cheeks go pink.

“You think I’m hot?” He all but gasps, like this is brand new information to him. 

Like you would’ve brought him home from the club if he wasn’t — and goddamn, was he ever. Carrying himself with the kind of confidence that made your knees wobble; saying all the right things in a low, smoky tone with his lips at your ear; moving his body in ways that still fluster you to think about.

And yet, here he is.

Adorable, if not completely obtuse.

After grabbing plates from a nearby cabinet, he snags two pairs of chopsticks out of the drawer to the left of the sink. It takes all you’ve got not to roll your eyes. He shouldn’t know where either of those things are, but he does.

A satisfied sigh slips out of his mouth when he takes the seat next to yours and scoots a plate full of eggs and kimchi in front of you.

“Here you go,” he sings as he holds out a pair of your own chopsticks to you. 

He’s beaming when you accept them into your hand, and it leaves you with no choice but to take a bite of the food in front of you. Intently and chronically hopeful, he watches you pluck a piece of scrambled egg from the plate, like the trajectory of his life hinges on your approval. There’s no turning back now. Reluctantly, you pop it into your mouth.

While you chew, he leans in a bit closer. From this distance, you can see your own reflection in his irises; there are tiny flecks of honey brown amidst the dark, you realize. Little details you didn’t notice last night when he was much, much closer — like the heart-shaped curve his upper lip takes when he smiles as big as he is now.

“How is it?” He asks, walking the borderline between eager and unbearably shy.

You swallow hard as you snap back to attention. If letting him stay for breakfast was a bad call, getting caught gawking at him is a flagrant foul. Somehow, you need to get the point across without being too cruel; to remind him that you signed up for the night and not the morning.

“Um. Well,” you start with a grimace, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Are eggs supposed to… crunch?”

[JUNE]

“Oh, fuck, just like that —”

Your back arches off the bed as you grip uselessly at sweat-drenched sheets. Between your spread thighs, Soonyoung and the punishing pace he’s set make quick work of pulling you apart, again. His right arm loops under your left leg to anchor you to him while his left palm presses down on your lower abdomen, making damn sure that every thrust drags over your g-spot.

This — this right here — is why you keep calling him back. He may overstay his welcome, but that’s an occupational hazard. His perpetual presence is a risk you’re willing to take, so long as he fucks you like this.

“Shit. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

He’s panting as he says it, which surprises the hell out of you. His stamina is unearthly, and when you manage to keep your eyes open long enough to look up at him, you don’t see any hint of effort. It's just the ragged sound of his breathing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“I think this might be a new personal record.” 

Unfortunately, his little announcement is genuine. He’s merely stating a fact, not trying to tease you, because his only concern outside of making you cum is outdoing himself.

To Soonyoung, sex is a performance he’s trying to perfect. He approaches it like an Olympian — an athlete or a god? — and the bar he sets for himself raises every time you see him.

You find it the tiniest bit endearing how focused he is on self-improvement.

Kind of. 

That doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes, though.

“Not if you keep —” A moan that you didn’t mean to let out cuts your sentence in half. “— talking.”

Your head crashes back against the pillows, which only spurs him on. Deeper, more deliberate strokes leave you writhing underneath him, babbling like a fool. He grins so wide that his eyes almost disappear.

“I’m just saying…” Another thrust, a thousand more stars dotting the periphery of your vision. “If you hit five, you owe me dinner.”

There it is, right on cue: another piece of evidence to prove that Soonyoung still doesn’t know what he signed up for.

It’s a conversation you’ve had more than once — never because you want to have it; and never because he seems to be consciously seeking something more than what you have. 

At some point over the past few months of scattered nights with you, a seed seems to have taken root in the back of his brain. A zombie parasite, more likely; one that’s overridden the controls and completely undermined his understanding of the situation.

Whether he means it or not, these throw-away comments make you wonder if, deep down, he’s not wired to fuck without feelings.

Not like you, anyway.

Your self-preservation instincts don’t let you get that far. Risk-averse to your core, you don’t see the point of gambling when the stakes are that high. And even if you weren’t wary of getting yourself hurt, it wouldn’t change the fundamental truth that you enjoy your own company enough not to need anyone else’s.

The way you see it, Soonyoung can have a cameo in your weekends, but the plot of your life right now doesn’t need anything more than that. Changing the lineup now could fuck your whole season. So, why try?

To his credit, he seems to get that there are currently more pressing matters at hand than the same old conversation. He pats your hip and says, “Let’s switch it up.”

You’re as grateful for the subject change as you are for the hand he extends to help your boneless body sit up again. Thankfully, the one lesson he has learned is that no one can compete with his perpetually full battery. If he’s going to change positions as often as he wants to, he has to be the one to position you.

This time, you wind up with your back flush against his chest, skin slick against yours. To keep him close, you reach back until your hand finds the nape of his neck. After weaving your fingers through the damp hair at the base of his head, you tug slightly, pulling a low groan out of him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he grunts breathlessly. “Pull my hair.”

You do as he says, albeit a bit harder than you meant to; you can’t help it. That’s the exact moment he chooses to grab your hips and slam your ass back against his pelvis, perfectly in time with his forward snap. He’s in your guts now, there’s no doubt about it, and you’re falling to pieces.

Wailing, you have to squeeze your eyes shut to survive the surge of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, my god,” you choke out.

The only way you manage to stay upright through your orgasm is with Soonyoung’s arms caging you in. Without him, you’d be a trembling fucking mess, collapsing face-down onto your bed in a useless heap. He keeps holding you even when he lets himself go soon after, spilling into the condom with a moan you feel as it leaves his chest.

“Goddamn,” he sighs, voice rough. The heat of his breath on your neck almost makes you want to cling to him, curl up and let your eyes flutter shut. “Every time I fuck you, I feel like I should thank you.”

That flicker of affection goes out in a flash as the memory of consequences comes back around. You snort. “Please don’t cook for me again.”

You leave it at that, and so does he. When he finally pulls out of you, you give into the safer urge; the one that can’t possible give him the wrong impression. Slumping forward, you hit the mattress so hard that you practically bounce, like the dead weight you are.

Soonyoung misses that spectacle, thankfully. He’s already on his feet, tying off the condom before dropping it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. You hear it drop against the plastic bag, then the soft pad of his footsteps as he makes his way back to you. You unbury your face from the pillows and crane your neck to look over at him.

In a rare display, he looks exhausted. Moments like this might be the only time he ever finds himself depleted, and you figure he’s earned that right. Part of you wants to let him lay here with you — maybe even let him sleep it off — but you can’t let him get tangled in the strings you refuse to attach.

He’s halfway to you when he finally looks up at you and catches you watching him. You’re not sure what he sees in your expression; you’d bet it’s as confusing on the outside as it feels on the inside. Whatever he finds there, it makes him pause. There's a quick nod, like he’s reacting to something neither one of you has said out loud, then he changes course.

“You have to be up early,” he says, like he’s finally learned the script. “I’m gonna head out.”

You nod but say nothing else. You just watch as Soonyoung grabs the clothes you’d tugged off of him earlier, piece by piece, and puts everything back to the way it was before.

The way you want it.

Once he’s fully clothed, he shoots you a smile that only uses half of his mouth. Neither of you offers a word as he walks over to the door, although you can tell he’s moving more slowly than usual. Hoping you’ll stop him, maybe.

You don’t.

It’s not until he pulls it open that he looks back over his shoulder at you; and this time, when he smiles, it looks like he means it.

“Sleep well, yeah?”

[OCTOBER]

“I’m just saying that if her shithead brother bothered to include her in his night, maybe she wouldn’t have been decapitated."

You tear your eyes off the television screen in time to see Minghao’s eyes roll all the way back into his head. Across the coffee table from where you sit, he and Mei occupy the couch; his head crashes against the back of it with a muffled thump while his younger sibling continues their rant.

“I’m being for real,” Mei urges, jabbing their finger emphatically through the air in his direction. “If you ever bail on me like that, and my head ends up falling off, you deserve whatever consequences come next.”

You snort. “Up to and including… what, demonic possession?”

“Absolutely,” Mei sniffs.

Minghao sits upright again slowly. He chews thoughtfully on his lower lip, leaving you and your roommate in suspense. Knowing him, he’ll lecture you both on karmic energy and how Mei shouldn’t fuck around with it. To both of your surprise, he frowns. “Is it bad that I kind of want cake now?”

You and Mei respond at the same time, although your responses are nothing alike:

“I think we have some left over.”

“Yes, you’re a monster.”

Despite what they just called him, Mei is nothing if not a good host. With a beleaguered huff, they push themselves off the couch, step carefully over the legs Minghao doesn’t move out of their path, and stalks off towards the kitchen to forage for food.

Left alone in the living room, you and Minghao fall into an easy silence, eyes glued once again to the screen. It’s always been easier to get through a movie without Mei’s commentary; this one would’ve been finished an hour ago if they hadn’t kept pausing it to ramble. You’re so immersed in it that you hardly hear the way they’re tearing through the kitchen like a cyclone. You almost miss the soft knock at the door, too.

Immediately, your optimistic eyes flick over to Minghao. He’s closer to the door, and if you stare at him long enough, he might let you stay in the armchair you’ve all but fused to. 

“Nope,” he says coolly, without even looking.

Whining, you peel off the blanket you’ve wrapped yourself in and unfurl your knotted legs. You shiver when your bare feet touch the cold wood below, but bravely, you don’t retreat. You push forward on tiptoe and skip across the living room until you reach the front door.

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead when you open it to find Soonyoung standing there for the first time in several weeks. While overstaying his welcome is his signature, showing up uninvited never has been. That’s apparently one line in the sand he won’t stumble over.

“Hey,” you peep.

For reasons unknown, you have to pause to let your gaze sweep over him, like something might’ve drastically changed about him since you saw him last. There’s a tiny flutter in the center of your chest that begs you to greet him more emphatically than that, but you ignore it.

Soonyoung looks more apologetic than you’ve ever seen him, which makes your pulse quicken even more.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” he swears. “I think I left my headphones here last time. I’ve looked everywhere, I promise, but they’re just — gone.”

Your first instinct is to ask why he brought headphones to a dick appointment in the first place, but you talk yourself out of it. The next is to find out why he came all the way over here on a hunch, rather than simply texting you; he hasn’t in a while, not that you’ve taken it to heart. But you don’t do that, either, which strikes you as odd.

Instead, you step back and push the door open wider, once again letting the stray inside. “No worries,” you breeze.

Since when?

As it turns out, letting him in doesn’t bring the sky crashing down around you. Taking a single brick out of the wall you’ve fastidiously built doesn’t bring about the end of days. It just brings a shy bow and a quiet “thank you” while he toes off his shoes.

He turns to head toward your bedroom with you following behind him, but he stops short after a few steps. Crashing into his back — god, he’s broader than he looks — you grab his biceps to keep from bowling him over entirely.

“Shit — I’m so sorry.” He wheels around, failing to realize that you’re as close as you are. You can see panic light up his eyes, now mere centimeters from yours. “I didn’t realize you had somebody over.”

What is that scribbled all over his face?

It’s not anger, you know that much. Nothing about the way he’s looking at you reads like jealousy, either. If anything, he seems genuinely torn-up over what he assumes is date-crashing. Guilty, maybe.

So, why do you feel bad?

“Mei’s brother,” you explain quickly, as if he’s owed one. “Our annual horror movie marathon. We — all of us — do it every October.”

Why did you add that qualifier in there?

Soonyoung’s face brightens immediately, and you feel the tiniest bit warmer now that the corners of his mouth aren’t curved downward anymore. You wish that surprised you, but it doesn’t.

Why should it? You’ve given into him more often than not, haven’t you?

All he says is, “Oh,” in the tiniest voice you’ve ever heard, like he’s embarrassed himself for the first time in his life.

It grows quiet while the two of you continue to stand there in the half-light. If you discount the screaming, the flickering colors coming from the television screen make it feel almost — cozy?

But you’ve been gazing up at him for far too long, so you clear your throat. “Your — umm — your headphones. Do you remember where you left them?”

You nudge him slightly to get him moving, which he does without complaint.

“I think they jumped out of my pocket when you…” Soonyoung’s voice trails off. As you pass by, he glances over at Minghao, who either can’t hear your conversation or doesn’t give a shit about it.

With that indifference confirmed, Soonyoung looks back at you with a smirk. “You broke my zipper, you know. I had to take those jeans to a tailor to fix it.”

Immediately, your cheeks start burning.

Resident fuck monster, reporting for duty! Here to rip clothes to shreds and — 

He touches your wrist, just for a second. “It’s cute,” he assures you, even though you haven’t said a word.

And it doesn’t do a damn thing to keep that heat from rising up your face.

You step into your bedroom before you can think of what to say in response, so you let the moment pass and flick on the light. Just as soon as he joins you inside, Soonyoung lays eyes on what he came for — which is a miracle. That thin, white cord is practically invisible under your dresser.

“Ah!” He chirps, bending down to grab it.

Looking triumphant as hell, he tucks it into the pocket of his joggers and shoots you a grin. Suddenly, you find it hard to mimic his smile, although you don’t know why. 

He got what he came for, didn’t he? He’ll be out of your hair in a matter of moments, which is exactly what you’ve been demanding of him for months. You had to train him to get in and get out, and when he eventually learned, the relief was immediate.

So, why don’t you feel relieved now?

Soonyoung must hear your trains of thought derailing because he comes in hot with a distraction. As usual, it’s out of left field, just like the soft brush of his fingers on your bare arm.

“You’re cold.”

It’s not a question. 

There aren’t even goosebumps on your arm; and there’s no reason why he should know by looking at you that you are, in fact, freezing. But he does, and before you can ask how the fuck that’s possible, he spins around to the dresser nearby and grabs the handle jutting out of the bottom-left drawer.

How does he —?

You open your mouth to speak. The words disappear when he stands upright again, now holding out a sweatshirt from the drawer you keep them in. He’s only seen you open it once before, and the fact that he remembers is making you dizzy.

Soonyoung’s expectant eyes lock on your face, looking at you the same way he did when he handed you those burnt fucking eggs. This time, though, you don’t hesitate to accept what he’s giving you. You tug that sweatshirt over your head without missing a beat, instantly learning that it’s much bigger on you than you remember.

Stunned, you blink back at him from underneath the hood, which obscures most of your forehead. “Is this —?” 

You grab the fabric from the front of it in your hands as you look down. At first glance, it looks like the million other white sweatshirts tucked into your drawer, but — 

“This isn’t mine.”

Your eyes flick back up to Soonyoung, who’s fighting for his life to bite back a smile.

Six months ago, you might’ve knocked him on his ass for this, but now, you can’t keep it together, either. You crack wide open, laughing so hard that your eyes almost disappear.

“When the hell did you sneak that in there?” You wheeze, wiping tears as they spill over your lash line. The smack you land against his arm is cloaked in a sweater paw, dealing no damage except to crack him open, too. “God, I was never going to get rid of you, was I?”

Beaming, he slips his hands into the kangaroo pocket on the front and tugs you closer; you let him. “It was just in case I get cold, I swear.”

“Is that it?” You narrow your eyes playfully. “Are you sure?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, although you don’t believe him for a second. “It does look good on you, though. Maybe you should hang on to it.”

“To the sweatshirt?”

Watching him blush like that may never get old. Still, he maintains his bluff and nods. 

“Yeah. I mean, why not? Right? It’s comfortable.” He shrugs, not even the slightest bit casually. “A cotton blend, I think. Pre-shrunk, so… It’ll — uh, never be your size, I guess. That’s — um — that’s kind of a bummer, but…”

“Soonyoung!” You cut him off with a breathless laugh, prompting him to shut his rambling mouth.

The rare use of his name seems to startle him. His eyes go wide with that typical, hopeful anticipation that he never seems to leave home without. That look hasn’t disappeared after six months of getting shot down on a weekly basis, and neither has the way he hangs onto every word you say. 

This time, it might actually be what he’s been waiting to hear.

“Do you….?”

It might be a new personal record, you caving like this after holding someone at arm’s length for so long. The relief is automatic, spreading through muscle that you didn’t even realize had been aching.

“If you’re not busy, do you want to stay?”

[brotrustmeicanwrite]

In what ways do you actively seek inspiration and creativity to fuel your writing?

To be completely honest I’m the type of writer who got lucky in that department (severe untreated adhd). So 95% of the time I don’t have to actively seek out inspiration in order to write and instead the ideas try to assault me when I’m just peacefully walking down the road, minding my own business.

(btw yes I made this comic just to answer the question)

However there are still clear common origins of my ideas. So instead of giving advice that I don’t even use myself, I think the best I can do is show these origins and the little bit of active work I do put into finding inspo and hope this will still help those trying to seek inspiration.

The Origin Of Ideas

- (unconventional and honestly deranged) creative writing advice -

“I want to write a story about …”

Pics that burned themselves into my retinas and now live rent free in my brain‘s crevices

Throwing characters at each other like we’re smashing action figures together

“I want to write a story about … “

When I see other writers trying to come up with ideas, this is the kind of approach I see most often. It’s the only technique I use where I have to actively sit down and look for ideas and inspiration. Personally I don’t really like it, as it usually doesn’t lead me anywhere even near a working story. But that doesn’t mean this approach is inherently bad or that it isn’t just one that doesn’t fit specifically my personal way of thinking. As a matter of fact, the main project I’m working on right now is a result of doing exactly this. And originally just as a joke on top of that.

Using my own project “Mirrors Of Sands (MoS)” as an example I’ll show how I came up with ideas and inspiration for the story.

So, MoS originated from a comment I saw under yet another one of the 100s of generic reincarnation/ regression villainess manhwa I was reading around a year ago.

“Writers really only can write the same generic regression villainess bs nowadays.”

Along those lines. When I read that line I noticed that, despite ’villainess reincarnation’ having been the only thing I had been reading for months at that point, and also me being a writer, the thought of writing a story like that never even crossed my mind. So I decided to do it just for shits and giggles.

-> „I want to write a story about a villain regressing in a vaguely medieval noble European setting.“

So the most basic part of the inspiration for MoS obviously came from the media I enjoy, but what about beyond that? This is the part I personally don’t like about the „I want to write about“ approach. Most of the time when i decided to write a story about a specific thing or concept in the past, I ended up looking towards similar media and unconsciously imitating it, creating a cheap and soulless copy that I didn’t even like myself.

Because of this, when I decided to write MoS, I sat down and consciously made a list of all the tropes that these types of stories had in common and marked down which of them I liked enough to actually keep and which ones I wanted to change and why. This approach is quite theoretical as you can see, but it allowed me to get a clear picture of everything I actually wanted to write and gave me the opportunity to see clearly, from the very beginning, in which direction I wanted to take the idea away from the parts that I didn’t like.

If you think about it, this approach is kinda similar to a lot of headcanons in fanfiction in the sense that we take a pre-existing concept and actively adapt it in ways that we like more than the original.

Pics that burned themselves into my retinas and now live rent free in my brain‘s crevices

Almost all of my stories originate from a single scene that just randomly spawns in my head out of nowhere one day, usually based on some random thing I saw or heard months (if not years) earlier.

To give an example: the imagery of Yuu Otosaka from Charlotte jumping in front of of the moon is a really cool visual that first gave me the idea of a scene, where character A jumps from rooftop to rooftop in front of of the moon, just like Yuu, while being chased by some sort of organisation. Meanwhile character B witnesses it from below while walking down an alley and is immediately mesmerised by character A‘s grace and elegance.

This tiny, seconds long scene, that’s quite certainly been done before, evolved and changed over the years into 3 full, completely separate stories. One revolving around romance, one around A being an outlaw and the society that caused that and another about supernatural shenanigans. They could have been one story, but this one tiny idea gave me so much material to work with that I ended up dividing it up, simply because there was not enough room in a coherent story for all of it.

Now, I’m aware that my brain spitting out ideas like this is a result of it being extremely hyperactive due to severe 100% untreated adhd, so obviously not everyone can work like that. However, I believe that this pop up effect can be imitated even if you don’t have a brain that lets every cool pic you’ve ever seen live rent free in there, while the important stuff can’t afford the lease.

So here’s what I would do: get a journal and write down as much stuff, that could potentially inspire you as possible, whenever you encounter it. For me it’s scenes from media I enjoy, for you it might be poems, songs, a person you encounter, a rumor you overheard or anything else that you like. Alternatively/ additionally make a Pinterest folder and collect cool pics on boards with a specific theme. You could have an action scene board, a kiss during a winter ball board, a late night cooking board, a board about absolutely anything that you might think could possibly be even the tiniest bit inspirational to you some time later.

If you do that you’ll build yourself an easy to access collection that you can then go through at a later date when you need an idea. It’s no guarantee of course but maybe one of those things will spark the same way as that one random frame from an anime that I had watched in 6th grade did for me.

Throwing characters at each other like we’re smashing action figures together

Im sure you know what I mean with „smashing action figures together“ but when it comes to doing this with characters this might sound a bit weird. But I mean that sentence quite literally.

I guess this could technically also double as a writing exercise but sometimes when I’m bored, I like to take random characters or even just vague ideas of characters and put them in situations where they have to interact with each other. They can be OCs or characters from any media that you like in whatever situation you want. We’re essentially playing dolls in our head.

The goal of this „exercise“ is to play with character dynamics that I usually don’t write and I’ve had some really interesting ones develop from this in the past. In those cases my own ideas then became the inspiration for a completely new story or scene.

At the end of the day, to properly answer the question, most of my inspiration comes passively from all of the media that I consume and enjoy so I usually don’t actively seek out inspiration to fuel my writing. However I do hope that my little rant here may help one of the 10 people who are gonna see this post.

Happy Writing <3

[ainulindaelynn]

10 Characters / 10 Fandoms / 10 Tags

Tagged by @brasideios and @aeide (notifications robbed me of this until today )

Always enjoy doing these, so thanks!

I love that it took you so long last time 😂 I’m going to learn from that and try not to agonize over this too much, because that’s definitely my tendency also.

In no particular order:

1) Cole in DAI - Aside from the first game, I’m not big on this series, but COLE. Whoever wrote him just struck these bizarre cords with my ultra-empath side. He has this line about things hardening like a little ball in your chest or softening and fading into the fabric of who you are. Very strange appearance. Not a fan of that. But the writing for him…. very unorthodox and wonderful 🙌

2) Also Shane from SDV - I’ve got a lengthy playlist that I return to regularly. He’s a type I hardcore bond with in real life, which has gotten me in a few messy situations. Big web of feelings on this one. Someday I may write a bit for him. There’s plenty in my head.

3) Keeping with commonality, I’m going to cheat and do a trifecta that I probably couldn’t choose from even if I did have a week - Alexios, Brasidas & Kassandra 😜 Alexios is just … has a more gorgeous human ever existed, real or otherwise? I doubt it. Brasidas I’m completely fascinated by. And Kass is … Kass. Enough said.

4) Garrus Vakarian - I was halfway through the 3rd game (and waaaaay far down a different path) when this one just clocked me out of nowhere. I fucking love Garrus. That ME2 opening…. They did such a good job making you feel alone and adrift. And then when he came back as Archangel and he just TRUSTS you. I could’ve cried. Ride or die. Partners for life. It took me another whole game to realize it was more. Probably my most comical game realization to date. I was dumbstruck. Can’t read Fanfiction for him though. It’s a weird respect thing. And the alien bit. Bit much for me 😂

5) Lee Adama from BSG - It’s me. I’m him, but way less athletic 😂 My dog is named Apollo, partially after his callsign, partially as a shoutout to mythology (more academia in general, really), and an overt play on Apollo Creed, because when you have a boxer… 💛

6) Izogie from Woman King - Setting aside historical accuracy and looking at this purely as fiction, this movie blew me away. And not for the reasons it was advertised for. I’ve NEVER seen such gorgeous platonic intimacy in film. She’s the heart of that, and also the stiff edge that holds the line. You never see both of those things in the same character. She’s everything.

7) Revan from KotOR - the very first blorbo 🥹 I still pine over her all the time. Stone-carved headcanons here. I’ve even considered writing this entire game so my kid can read it one day because it’s such a derelict and it was so central to constructing my little nerd self. Lifer here.

8) Geralt of Rivia - returning to platonic intimacy, the found father/daughter dynamic he has with Ciri is awesome. I also love that his romantic relationships are de-centralized and very imperfect. He walks a hilarious line between sociopath (not at all) and cringe-worthy bleeding heart (seeping out 24/7) and I’ve laughed out loud so many times reading these books. He just seeps emotion, but in the grimmest way possible.

9) Temperance Brennan from Bones - dating myself, but another comfort show. I can’t even describe what I love about her. She’s just flawless 😂 Not sure there’s any fandom left (like half of these), but worth a mention anyway.

10) Fingolfin from The Silmarillion - I read this out loud with roommates years ago and we built god diagrams and studied pronunciations and picked through waaaay too much detail in our apartment late at night. Hands down one of my best memories. He wins this nostalgia, because of the secret city, the drama, his END. Exquisite.

I’ve left out a few key ones and dropped some very random ones in, but that’s what I’ve got for now. I’ve seen a lot of people tagged in this one, so I’m just going to put it out there to anyone interested ☺️

[torgawl]

if there's one xie lian headcanon i dislike is that he was depressed during the time he was waiting for hua cheng. in any way, shape or form, i just don't think that fits into who he is or his development throughout the books at all?!

don't get me wrong, xie lian did suffer a lot in the past and for a long time he did push back and tried to repress all those feelings. to the point of becoming the xie lian that gets introduced to us at the begining of tgcf. he appears and we question his position to the way others treat him. is he just incredibly confident or is this the way he learned how to face the world and move on? and we do get that answer. and we do see him face his past. and most importantly, rediscovering himself and what being alive is about. we see him rebuild a relationship with the friends he thought he had lost, we watch him be, for once, on the loving end of somebody else. we see devotion, adoration, we see care, patience and understanding. and those things change him. otherwise he wouldn't have said to hua cheng 'only after having met you did I rediscover that it's such a simple thing to be happy'.

i feel like what people misunderstand is that hua cheng wasn't his happiness and xie lian's character doesn't revolve around hua cheng. yes, their story interlaces quite early on. hua cheng decided to live for xie lian. hua cheng gives xie lian what he lacked. but xie lian didn't only receive a romantic partner. he was able to overcome his past and get a new outlook in life. he was able to become a better version of himself. for him and for others.

of course, hua cheng got almost ripped away from him as easily and as fast as he came into his life. i'm not saying it didn't impact him or that he didn't feel insecure or doubtful at any moment in time. those feelings are only natural if you cherish someone. but the fact he learnt of hua cheng's dedication and devotion, that he wasn't alone all those centuries, that the other did his utmost best to be by his side and to contribute to his happiness and well being? those things have to had mattered. and i don't think the xie lian at the end of the book would ever waste his time pitying himself because of it. if anything, i think remembering hua cheng would motivate him to retribute what the other did for him. and the thing is, we do see this. the only insight we have is xie lian being as devoted and as hopeful and as loving as hua cheng did to him. and isn't that part of the beauty of the story? isn't that almost a fulcral point in all of it? that xie lian's time to be on the giving end came and that it wasn't a burden or a task but something natural between the two of them? that they would always be there for each other? that their relationship might have started from a place of distance and devotion but it was never one-sided?!

their relationship is probably one of the healthiest - if not the healthiest - representations of a couple in media i have ever seen. and there's really no other way to look at their dynamic. they bring out the best in each other. their relationship is so good that they had space for personal growth and their inherent value isn't tied to one another. so it feels very reducing to try and make it seem that they have some sort of co-dependency that xie lian would ever go back to such a negative state of mind because he had to wait for his lover for a certain ammount of time. i'm not saying with this that that can't happen in healthy relationships. the brain is something complex. it's more that we have no motive to believe that is the case from what has been showed to us about them and especially regarding xie lian, who is the main character and narrator of the story. of whom we have first hand information. and although unreliable at some points, we have no reason to doubt his reciprocity towards hua cheng.

[symbi-eat-me]

Follow the Leader [Glitchtrap x female!Reader 18+ Smut]

[WARNINGS/TAGS?: Female coochie-owning reader, SMUT!!!! with plot, heavy mind control, dubious consent/non-con, pet names, reader being instructed, fucking a bunny furry virus???]

Summary: You've been working on the Fazbear Virtual Experience for a while now, and tired of being overworked you've finally decided to take the mysterious virus plaguing the game head-on. However, the virus may be a little more...technical to deal with than you originally thought, and it has bigger plans for you.

Uploaded this on AO3 months and months ago and somehow forgot to post it here lmao. I should probably be jailed for this, but I stand by the concept of Glitchtrap being hot. If u find that weird (valid) don’t read this, you’ll hate it. Also I headcanon Glitchtrap as being the fragmented soul of William Afton, its not super prevalent at all in this fic but probably important to know that Glitchtrap is HUMAN, the bunny suit is just the form he takes within the game.

PSA there's definitely a bunch of errors in the language I used regarding game design and whatnot, I tried my best !!!

________

________

You slammed your car door a little harder than you had intended to. Sighing, you grasped your bag and made for the front of the building. Another day, another 8 hour shift.

Although it was something you'd never admit, you really did like your job. But fuck, was it tiring - especially at the minute with your current project. You worked in games development at a small studio in your nowhere town. To your initial excitement, Fazbear Entertainment (the company that had enlightened your entire childhood) had hired your company to develop their new game.

At first, everyone had been bouncing off the walls with excitement about the project. It was so much bigger than anything you'd ever done before, but you were all ecstatic to make it happen. Within a few weeks however, it was clear than they had hired your small company to maximise their profits - work you to the bone and pay you pennies since it got you 'exposure'. Despite this, your manager was confident that it would turn out well (and whatever they were paying was clearly good money). Sure. He didn't seem to be as happy when Fazbear Entertainment shipped you bucket loads of shitty old circuit boards with the vague instructions of 'use these to make it faster'. And he certainly wasn't happy when your team had spent the last 2 weeks scanning the boards for any scraps of usable code, only to find out that they were housing some kind of age old virus.

So that's where you were now. You weren't so sure anymore that this game was going to be the big break for Silver Parasol Games, not when you were spending every shift attempting to dig out some seemingly invisible trojan horse instead of working on the actual game.

You sighed again as you slipped in behind your desk, mumbling a greeting at Anna when you passed by her. While your computer loaded up, your eyes wandered around the room until you settled on staring at your coworker, Jeremy. His back was facing you, and he seemed to be rooting around for something in a drawer.

Jeremy was a nice guy, he really was. He worked as a part of the quality assurance team, so he mainly spent his time testing the game. He was the one who flagged up this mysterious virus that no one else had been able to catch properly. You knew Anna and Raha had both seen it, so it was definitely real, but the stress was clearly getting to Jeremy most of all. It was like he'd seen a ghost most of the time. He used to chat to you on your lunch break, quite often. But now he never seemed to be away from the game, muttering to himself and making notes, presumably on the bugs he came across. Made your job easier, you supposed.

It was strange, and you'd been so backed up working on the game with your insanely tight deadlines that you'd hardly had time to think about it. But now, seeing him hunched over whatever he was looking for...it was uncanny and made you a little nervous. Your superiors didn't care much for any of you, especially Jeremy. They treated him like he was crazy. Hell, the stress of these deadlines would make anyone crazy. You really didn't blame him for acting a little off every now and then.

Finally he grasped something and wandered off again, in the direction of the testing room.

You tried to push it to the back of your mind, which was more than easy as you checked your pile of emails and anticipated how much you had to do today...

-

The day had passed by at a snails pace, and you'd even volunteered to stay behind to finish scanning the last few circuit boards Fazbear Entertainment had shipped. You glanced outside as you finished up, it was almost completely dark already.

Exhausted, you began to pack up your things. Once again, you felt your eyes drift to the desk that Jeremy had been stood over earlier. You were suddenly reminded of everything that had been going on with him. As frustrating as it was proving to be, this game really was important to you at this point. If you wanted to cut down these late hours and sleepless nights, you had to see this virus for yourself.

Without giving yourself time to consider, you shoved your bag back under your desk and headed for the testing room.

You had played the game before, of course. It was part of the job, you couldn't program without seeing the final product as you went along. From Jeremy's mumbled description, the bug seemed to be a visual issue, something about it latching onto one of the character models. However, it only seemed to show itself in specific situations in the final version of the game. And it seemed to like Jeremy - he must have unknowingly found some way to trigger it or found a spot of weakness in the code. Something like that, anyway.

The room was dark, with the blinds all closed securely. You didn't want to bother with any of that, since you were going to leave in a few minutes anyway, so flipped on the weak overhead light.

You slipped on the VR headset that sat on the table in the middle of the room and prepared yourself. Every time you loaded up the game, a sense of pride swelled in your chest. It was nowhere near done yet, of course, but just seeing what your small team had managed to achieve so far was...nice.

You weren't so much of a horror fan yourself, and the sickening gaze of Freddy on the title screen was still enough to make you feel uneasy. As the music started up and you stood in the main hub of the game, you felt your heartbeat rise a little. You were suddenly very aware of how alone you were in the empty studio, and the thought of Jeremy made your palms clammy.

You took a deep breath, telling yourself not to be so stupid.

Glancing around, you focused on the task at hand. You were unsure of how to trigger the virus itself or where it even was. Jeremy was pretty clear in that it had just shown up out of thin air, after he'd played for hours. You hoped it wouldn't take you that long to find it.

After flipping through the few finished levels, you selected night 1 and got started. You knew this game like the back of your hand, so you powered through it like it was light work. Despite knowing the precise mechanics, the unpredictability of the AI still shook you a little. You flipped a light on to your left after hearing footsteps, and felt your heart race as Bonnie stared right at you.

Fuck, the design team did such a good job on these models. They were still terrifying no matter how many times you played.

After a few rounds, you tapped your heels irritably. You didn't even know what you were looking for, not really. You had stupidly thought it would be obvious. Viruses didn't work that way, you should know that more than anyone.

Back in the main hub now, you continually flipped through the available levels and sighed. You should probably leave, it was getting late.

You stepped away from the console and turned to your right slightly, readying yourself to remove the headset. That was, until you heard a light buzzing noise in your right ear. You glanced more over to the direction of the sound, and gasped.

That was it.

It must be.

At first it looked like a green blur, easily distinguished as an issue with the graphics. But within a few moments of staring, you could discern the shape of a rabbit. You'd never seen this character before, but seemed to recall Jeremy briefly mentioning a rabbit.

That was the virus alright.

It was almost...scary. It just stood in the far doorway, staring and staring and staring and waving its hand at you. It was hardly even visible without focusing your eyes on it. You couldn't tell if it was supposed to be an animatronic or something else. It was fucking weird, whatever it was.

"Y        o     u."

You nearly jumped out of your skin. The soft buzz that it was releasing had paused, only for a moment. In its place had been a whisper, of sorts. It was glitchy and hardly discernable but you could still make it out.

"a    r e      n o t      h i    m."

Your breathing was practically shallow gasps now. It hadn't moved, it still just stood there. But it was...talking?

"H-hello?" you tried.

"Y   o   u         a     r  e     n  e     w."

It was almost like it was struggling to talk. It separated syllables strangely as it spoke, and the crackling glitchy buzz that overlaid every word made it difficult to process.

You couldn't understand it - this character that you had no knowledge of had its own completely independent AI. You had a horrifying moment where you considered whether this was what Jeremy had been doing for the last few months. That's why he was so stressed? He'd been programming this character all on his own? But why?

"I-I'm not new, I made this game," you spoke. You couldn't help feeling embarrassed, you were shamefully aware of how you were just speaking into an empty room.

"Y o    u g  a v e  m  e l    i    f e."

It almost hurt to listen to, with every word you felt your head aching. It felt like it was drilling into your skull, but you knew it must be because of the sharp noises it was making.

"I-I think Jeremy made you," you said. It was stupid, you knew, to speak to an AI like this. But it must have some sort of question answering system within it, for it to be able to respond in the way it was.

A deep noise rumbled from it, sounding almost like a laugh, "h    e   c     o   u    l       d n    e v     e    r."

A sudden thought gripped you, out of nowhere. "If I play the game will it be easier for you?"

You weren't sure where the idea came from, but you figured it was worth a shot. It only showed up after you'd played a few rounds in the first place.

It didn't respond, only seemed to hold completely still for a few seconds before continuing to wave again. You took that as a go-ahead and loaded up a fnaf 3 game. Anxiously, you glanced around you when you'd loaded into the office. It wasn't there, of course. It must have been anchored to the lobby somehow.

Your hands were shaking a little as you flipped through the cameras. Springtrap stared intently at you wherever you seemed to look, and it reminded you of the virus rabbit in a strange way. It made you uncomfortable.

Fuck, video error.

As quickly as you could, you flipped open the console to your left and fixed the error. You were anxious to open the cameras for a brief moment and simply stared at the little Bonnie figure on the desk.

To your dismay, when you finally got yourself to flip through the cameras again, you'd lost Springtrap. You hurriedly checked the vents, but he was nowhere to be found. Your heart beat in your throat when a ventilation error message blared at you. You knew this game, why were you fucking up so much? You could hardly think straight, let alone process what you were doing.

As you flipped through the console, you heard footsteps and quickly pulled it down. Dragging a weak scream from your chest, Springtrap jumped at you and ended your game. Taking a moment with your eyes scrunched closed to compose yourself, you tried to steady your breathing. This game had never made you feel like that before, and you hoped it never would again.

Apprehensively you opened your eyes, to find yourself at the game over screen. The console in front of you blared, and you prepared to press the return to menu button. However, your eyes flipped over the console again, making your heart rate race again.

Follow the leader, the screen read.

You definitely hadn't programmed that in. And no one else had, to your knowledge. The words seemed to bounce around in your mind, never settling but making you feel foggy.

When you returned to the hub, it was like you could feel breathing down your neck. Tentatively, you turned around.

It was closer to you this time, much closer. It was only a few feet away, instead of being in the far doorway. Now, you could get a much clearer look at it. It wasn't an animatronic at all, instead some kind of costume. You could clearly see stitches on the fabric, and stains that covered its body. It was a rabbit, but had big human-like hands that made you uneasy. Its smile was uncanny and seemed to pull at its cheeks, exposing big white buck teeth and a deep black void behind them. Its glaring purple eyes weren't directly looking at you, instead they looked off into the distance, but you had a sudden vision of them coming to life and twisting to stare right at you.  For a character model, it was sickeningly detailed. You began to question if Jeremy was behind this after all.

You felt ill.

It continued waving, just like before, crouching over oddly, like it was trying to get down to your level considering it's tall stature. If it were real, it would have towered over you at at least six and a half feet. It still had a nasty green glare to it, but now it was closer it appeared less blurred, and you could see the purple waistcoat and bow tie it wore.

"G   o   o  d," it said.

You could've sworn it sounded clearer now, like the white noise it emitted was starting to clear to make room for its voice. Its movements paused for a moment, again appearing as though it was thinking. Like it was considering its options.

The silence was beginning to scare you. Visions of Jeremy clouded your mind - hiding in the storage cabinet, watching you sneak to the testing room, smiling wickedly as he snuck up behind you with a knife. You felt sick again, and shoved the thought deep down. Why would you even think that? Your mind was playing sick tricks on you.

Suddenly you wanted nothing more than to take the headset off and glance around you. It had been a while and you finally craved the stability of the real world.

“N   O."

Your attention snapped to the rabbit and your knees went weak. It didn’t exactly shout but it might as well have done, the voice was so strong and flung around your skull in a way that made you dizzy.

“N     A   M    E.”

It took a moment for you to process its words, but you complied. You told it your name in a barely audible whisper while unable to rip your eyes away from its own. The soft movement of its hand, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, mirrored your own heartbeat.

It didn’t respond, again just staring at you. You grappled with the idea of simply tugging the headset off and leaving it all behind. That was a bad idea, you decided. You didn’t know why.

Despite this, the silence was killing you. You needed to know how this thing worked. In some strange attempt to get answers, you began relaying facts about yourself. “I’ve been working here for 4 years, since I graduated. This game is the biggest project I’ve had to deal with so far.” You continued spewing out details of your background almost mechanically. You spoke of your work, how you lived alone, how you spent your time, and probably more - the words started to mangle together in your mind. Your body felt heavy and warm as you spoke. You could hardly think - you felt as though you were on autopilot. Everything came naturally, the words you spoke and even the position of your head while your eyes kept fixated on it. With every second that passed, you felt more and more of your mind slipping away. It didn't feel bad, in fact you welcomed it. It felt completely natural to let go.

What you were giving your consciousness to, you didn't know.

Your limbs felt fuzzy, in a complete state of relaxation. You had stopped speaking minutes ago, you managed to realise. How strange.

It only took a second after that. All you saw was the rabbit stop waving. It's eyes flickered back to your own with a low tilt of its head, it was finally looking directly at you. In one swift movement it stood to its full height in front of you, and seemed to breathe.

A crackling glitchy noise filled your ears as this happened, before everything went completely silent. The soft buzz of the console was all you could hear to fill the void as you looked up at it.

"G o o d l i t t l e b u n n y," it said.

You hardly had the energy to respond, simply staring blankly back at it. Its voice had changed again, becoming almost completely stable. You could hear it perfectly clearly now, vibrating in the back of your head as though it was your consciousness itself. Like it had replaced your thoughts with its own.

It sounded like a man's voice now, deep with a slight accent. Despite that, it was still not quite human. There was something about how the tone changed, how a static noise accompanied every word, how the vowels were drawn out for slightly too long. You couldn't put your finger on what it was, but you knew it wasn't human.

You managed to break from your trance enough to speak freely and gain feeling back in your body, but it still felt like it held a leash around you.

"What are you?" you asked as clearly as you could.

It laughed, "I a m  t h e  s h a d o w  o f  a  s i n n e r,  t h e  s o u l  o f  a  v e r y  b a d  m a n."

You held back a gasp as he bent down to your eye level again, and reached a gloved hand to your jaw before continuing, "s o  y o u  h a d  b e t t e r  b e h a v e."

The hand on your face wasn't solid, he was still a hologram within the game. But you felt a weak weight on your skin, like a shadow, just like he said.

You felt yourself nodding at him, open-mouthed.

He moved freely now in jolting movements. Rather than moving in a solid motion, it was like he was comprised of a slideshow of images.

"T h e  d e s k," he raised an arm to gesture behind you.

He didn't need to say more, his words were laced with subtext that you somehow understood on impulse. You remembered, there was a desk behind you in the real world. Carefully, you backed up until your thighs hit a solid wooden surface. It took some maneuvering since you were practically blind, but you managed to hoist yourself up onto the surface so you were sitting on the very edge.

"G o o d  b u n n y," he praised. There was more distance between you now, but the confounds of the game made it so you couldn't move significantly far away from him.

In a way, you were trapped.

Your head was buzzing and hazy, and your entire body was so warm. You'd never felt anything like it. If you could imagine what being a part of a video game would feel like - this would be it.

A particular warmth settled in your abdomen - strange but not unwelcome. Your mind was frazzled enough not to question it.

"I t s  b e e n  s o  l o n g," he murmured.

You didn't know what he was referring to, but didn't care much to find out. A wave of need overcame you and clouded any thoughts you might have. A need to submit. You noted his tall and intimidating stature, which had been terrifying to begin with, but seemed captivating to you now that you considered it.

“Y o u  a r e  g o i n g  t o  h e l p  s e t  m e  f r e e.”

Your hands were clammy against the cold wood of the desk. It was becoming much too warm in the room but you couldn't do anything about it, not daring (or wanting) to turn away from him.

“D o e s  t h a t  s c a r e  y o u?”

Freezing up, your voice caught in your throat. The incessant hammering of your heart in your chest was telling you that you were scared. But your mind was telling you something...different. You began to nod, but instead ended with confusedly shaking your head.

"S o  m i n d l e s s  a l r e a d y," his grin almost seemed to deepen.

His words rattled through your head, echoing and making you sleepy. As hard as you tried, you couldn't concentrate, couldn't process a single complete thought. It was nice, in some strange way. You didn't have the mind to question it, at that point. All your mind kept drifting back to was him, his words and his eyes that looked you up and down.

He chuckled, a low rumbling noise that felt as though it swallowed you whole.

"L e t  m e  h e l p."

Against any conscious decision of your own, your hand moved up underneath your shirt. The line was completely blurred between what you were making your body do and what he had control over. Either way, you welcomed it.

You grasped at your shirt more firmly and lifted it over your head, before hurriedly repeating the action with your bra. His chuckling repeated, the low echoing noise reverberating down your body. Your eyes were blurry as you struggled to keep them open, but you could still make out his large glassy eyes staring directly into your own from where he stood.

With you hardly noticing, your fingers tugged your trousers down. You let out an unintended sigh at the air hitting your clammy skin.

"G o o d b u n n y."

One hand grasped at your chest, while the other traced over your underwear. A passing thought made you aware of how wet you were, evidence of how intensely worked up he'd somehow managed to make you.

Your nerves felt as though they were burning. You'd never felt need or sensitivity like it in your life.

"P r o v e  y o u r  d e v o t i o n."

You hardly had a mind to nod as you yanked your underwear down your thighs. Your fingers thrust into your heat, not giving time to treat yourself delicately. Although your eyes were clenched shut, the feeling of his glowing eyes pierced into you. Again and again your fingers curled into you while your palm hit your clit with every movement. Your spare hand dug its nails into your chest, surely leaving rows of scratches as if you'd been mauled by a wild animal.

The buzzing static in your ears dazed you. The sensation in your cunt made you whine pathetically. The rabbit that watched you, controlled you, made your head tip back and your back arch.

A string of pleas left your throat as you felt your peak surfacing at a much quicker rate than you were used to.

"L o o k  a t  m e."

Your eyes shot open to see him standing over you. In your position, you were close enough to lying back on the desk, but still had to crane your neck to look him in the eyes as he towered above your compliant body. He did nothing but stand there, but the buzzing feeling of him so close to you made your skin itch and crave his approval.

"Y o u  h a v e  b e e n  s u c h  a  g o o d  b u n n y. J u s t  p r o v e  y o u r  l o y a l t y  t o  m e."

Yielding whimpers escaped your lips as your fingers curled to hit the spots that made your thighs clench together. "I'll be good, I'm yours, please," you repeated again and again.

The sound of him chuckling while watching your shaking body sent you over the edge. You whined and begged as your hands barely stopped digging into you despite your overstimulated state, like a possession had completely taken you over.

After minutes of you gasping for his mercy, you had finally relaxed. The gentle static of the room started to consume your ears again as the blood rushing to them calmed. Your mind remained blank, hardly remembering where you were, only thinking of him.

"W e l l  d o n e  m y  l i t t l e  b u n n y. W e  a r e  g o i n g  t o  h a v e  f u n."

[cosmicbrowniefan]

(i sent one of these asks in a couple days ago but i was half asleep and forgot most of the stuff i was supposed to fill out)

she/they & female; 5'2; short black hair & brown - almost black eyes w long eyelashes, medium brown skin; bisexual & i don't care what gender of the character is.

personality: extroverted, friendly, energetic, hyperfixates really easily, clingy, affectionate, can be a sarcastic little bitch sometimes.

hobbies: acting, singing, dancing (basically musical theatre shit), reading, writing, making flower crowns, listening to music, playing guitar / ukulele, scrolling through pinterest / tumblr

likes: mango bubble tea, hanging out with my friends, making playlists for people, bursting into song out of nowhere, ice cream

dislikes: itchy sweaters, people who don't give a shit about what i have to say, metal scratching metal (makes me wanna kms), people who are too judgmental (they scare the crap out of me)

nothing extra to add! i'm curious to see who you'd ship me with!

i ship you with...

robin buckley!

how you met: you and your friends were fairly frequent customers at scoops ahoy. every time she saw you guys coming, she always made steve go to the back so that she could be the one to interact with you. erica made fun of her for this ENDLESSLY.

her first impression of you: you and robin are alike, but she’s MUCH more of a chaotic gay disaster. her first impression of you was that you were laid back and cool and pretty hilarious. she couldn’t tell for a little while whether she liked you or wanted to be you, but it turns out it was definitely a bit of both.

how you got together: after weeks of small talk at scoops ahoy, you actually came in on your own one day while robin was on her break. she was sitting alone at a table scrolling through her phone, and you decided to come and sit next to her and have an actual proper conversation instead of all your fleeting small talk. robin pretended to be totally cool and not have a complete heart attack during this conversation, but she was struggling. finally, robin’s break was up and you were done with your ice cream, but before you left, you told robin you left something in the tip jar for her. it was a piece of paper that said “can i rob(in) you of your time and take you on a date?”, along with your number.

what she likes most about you: robin loves that the more she gets to know you, the more of an adorable disaster you turn out to be. again, you’re much more put together than robin is, but when she hears about how long you’d been wanting to talk to her for, it makes her swoon. you were just as much of a dork as she was, and she loved that. physically, robin is a fan of your eyes.

what you guys enjoy doing together: you guys love doing anything and everything together, but you both really enjoy the quiet blissful moments of your relationship. for example, when you’re both laying on her bed, listening to music and cuddling and scrolling through your phones or doing homework, having some occasional small talk. there’s no pressure to do anything or entertain each other, you guys can just chill out. other than that, robin also really loves hearing you sing and seeing you in performances. she always brings you flowers for a job well done <3

bonus headcanon: robin had definitely never tried bubble tea before meeting you, because she was always afraid of choking, but you made some for her while you guys were hanging out at your house and she ended up LOVING it. now, every time you go out in public, she asks you to make her some, so that “everyone knows i’m one of those cool ass bubble tea bitches!”

[funkwhistle]

Dutch Van der Linde x reader

Dutch Van Der Linde x pregnant reader

Pairing: Dutch Van der Linde x F!reader

Warnings: A bit of NSFW themes at start, fluff, and pregnancy

A/N: Thank you to anon for requesting this, I had one half written so sorry if this isn’t what you were expecting - might do some headcanons about this in the future. Little disclaimer - I’ve never been pregnant, so anything which is incorrect, just let me know and I can sort it. Otherwise, happy reading! :)

(Photo is mine - don't reupload without tagging me)

“What've you been eating dear?” Dutch asked, his fingers gently ghosting over your breasts as you lay there. When you didn't reply, he continued, “I mean, they're just… nicer I guess?” By this point you were half asleep, but you just shrugged, moving back into him. He hummed contentedly, kissing your shoulder gently as the pair of you fell asleep.

Dutch rolled off you, breathing heavily and kissing you lightly on the head as he lay beside you. Exhausted, you moved closer to him, so he could drape his arm over you and pull you closer to him under the blanket to try and retain some sort of heat between the pair of you.

When you awoke the next day, Dutch had left the tent already, he was chatting to Arthur outside about another job. Quietly, you got dressed as fast as you could, thinking about Dutch's comments last night. Maybe it was the spring weather making you feel like this. Emerging from the tent, Dutch glanced over at you, smiling a little before returning to the conversation as you walked over to Tilly and Mary-Beth who were sewing up one of the shirts.

“Ah, Dutch has some socks which need darning,” Tilly said, pushing the needle she'd been using into the fabric and passing over the socks. The heel had worn through, a simple fix, but it would take a little time, so you sat down beside them and got to work as the warm sunlight filtered through the trees.

After you'd sewn his socks, you stitched a rip in one of Hosea's neckerchiefs before standing up to take a break. However, as you stood up, you began to feel dizzy, and a previously unfelt sickness came flooding over you as the world swam a little. Grasping onto the wagon beside you, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the feeling to go away, before moving. the dizziness left, but the nausea was still there, gnawing at your insides like you'd forgotten something.

“You alright there?” Mary-Beth asked, glancing up at you. “Did you eat this morning?” Shaking your head, you realised she was correct; you hadn't eaten anything since last night, that would be why you felt like this. thanking Mary-Beth, you walked to Pearson's wagon, grabbing a dry bread roll and biting down on it. Instead of quelling your sickness as you'd expected, the bread only made things worse, making you feel like when you'd eaten some raw meat a few months ago. Swallowing forcefully, you shook off the feeling, although you didn't finish the bread.

The sickness didn't leave for the whole day, and as the night drew in you found yourself in the tent, sitting by the small stove he had in there and massaging your temples. Dutch came into the tent then, and upon seeing you rushed over to you, carefully placing a kiss on your forehead before rubbing circles on your knee as he looked at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and you merely nodded, your headache getting painful now; and him speaking wasn't helping. He sighed, coaxing you to sit up fully so he could wrap his arms around you, helping you to stand. You were too exhausted to speak, but you smiled gratefully as he turned you around, making an effort to unlace your corset with care, although the knot at the bottom got him a little confused. After your corset was off, he pulled your skirt off, and pulled you closer to him, now only in your undergarments.

Dutch placed deliberate kisses over your neck and shoulder, making you sigh into him as you stood there together, you nearly falling asleep in his arms. the last thing you could remember before you drifted off was Dutch laying you in the bed beside you and pulling the blanket over you both.

You didn't know how long you'd been asleep for, but that didn't matter now as you felt much more nauseous than yesterday. Pushing yourself away from Dutch as he slept, you wobbled to the edge of the tent before falling onto your knees as you retched on the grass outside. Someone must have heard, as you felt someone pulling your hair from out of your face.

“It'll be alright, no worries. Dutch!” The gruff voice belonged to Arthur, who was calling fruitlessly for Dutch as he hushed you, rubbing your back gently as you shook in the cold grass.

By now you'd stopped retching, pushing yourself up so you were sitting as you pulled a face at the taste in your mouth. The early morning air was cold, biting at your exposed skin now you sat on the floor, dew seeping into your clothes. Arthur offered you his water as he stuck his head into Dutch's tent to wake him. Drinking a little made you feel better, but you couldn't shake the idea you might be pregnant, you remembered from when Abigail was that she would always be sick in the mornings.

Dutch emerged from the tent with Arthur, and when he saw you sat in the grass he shuddered himself, wrapping his arms around you. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Dutch mouthing a thank you to Arthur as he walked away. Feeling less ill now, you buried your head into Dutch's chest, trying to keep your tears at bay as he rocked you soothingly, muttering something calming to you.

The sunrise was visible by the time you felt you could stand up. Dutch supported you as you walked back into the tent, pulling one of your slip-on dresses over your head before letting you sit on the bed to allow him to get dressed. And yet you couldn't shake the idea of your possible pregnancy from your mind, deciding to ask the only person who knew, Abigail.

Dutch was more doting than usual throughout the day, coming over to check on you every few hours and not allowing you to work at all. However, while he was busy talking to Hosea, you caught the eye of Abigail, who you quickly motioned to come over.

“You good?” she sat down opposite you at the table you'd been playing dominoes on earlier. Sighing, you decided you needed to ask someone, so glancing around to check nobody was over hearing, you leant in and whispered;

“I think I might be pregnant?” Surprisingly, Abigail didn't even flinch, instead a grin spread over her face, making you more confused.

“You've finally worked it out? You ain't eaten properly for days and you can see a little bump?” she laughed a little at your face of shock. “Come on, most of the girls have cottoned on now,” you shook your head, disbelievingly, but now she mentioned it; you didn't eat all your dinner the other day, and you noticed you had to loosen your corset. Abigail took your hands in her own, making you look back up at her and you could tell what she was going to say next.

“You gotta tell him,”

“How? He won't want it,” your eyes began to prick with tears as you realised the reality of your situation, that you'd have to raise a child without the father, Dutch could die on any day, with a bounty like that on his head. Sure, you wanted a child at some point, but not now, maybe when you'd settled a little; got a house of your own, with a yard for the kid and… As she was aware your panic had begun to set in, Abigail continued calmly;

“Well, when I had Jack I didn't know if he was John's, so I told Dutch first. When I tell you he was excited about the idea of there being a child in camp-” she stopped at your face, you'd been wondering if Jack was, in fact, Dutch's. As though she could read your mind, Abigail shook her head, continuing. “Don't worry, he is John's, I spoke to Dutch because I didn't know if I had to leave camp,” you smiled at this, maybe she was right about him after all.

After speaking to Abigail, you didn't leave the tent for the rest of the day, with Dutch bringing you a small bit of food in the evening.

“You feeling an-” Dutch started, passing you a bowl of stew which you took from him eagerly, but not eating any yet, you wanted to tell him first.

“Dutch, I need to tell you something,” you interrupted him as he sat down beside you. All of a sudden, all your previous courage had gone, replaced with doubt and worry about his reaction; if he banished you from the gang you had nowhere to go. Cocking his head, Dutch was looking at you expectantly, the stew on one of the crates behind him, long forgotten.

“I think I'm pregnant,”

Dutch didn't move at first, and you were worried he'd take it badly, he was twisting his rings as he processed your information.

“You're sure?” you nodded, mentioning you were going to go into town tomorrow to get the doctor to confirm it. Dutch still didn't say anything, although his hand found it's way to interlocking itself with yours. Slowly, he looked up at you, and you could see the glimmer of tears in his eyes as a smile began to spread over his face, making you smile also.

“You're going to make a wonderful mother Miss Van Der Linde,” he was still beaming, but he pulled you close so he could kiss you instead of you seeing him cry. “We can have a mini Van Der Linde running around camp now,” his reaction prompted tears of relief from you, and the pair of you sat together, you on his lap now, whispering about the good news. Dutch kept drawing patterns on your small bump, and placing kisses on whichever bit of skin he could.

[arigatouiris]

animal instincts // inosuke x reader

Author’s Note: Another draft pick hahahahah. I headcanon that Inosuke is like this when he’s in love~ My poor misunderstood rough boi who deserves nothing but the world! I hope ya’ll like this, I put some effort into this one hahahaha. Thanks for reading!!

Word count: 4069

Pairing: Hashibira Inosuke x Reader

Warnings: fluff, slight spice (things get a bit heated here UwU) idk, slight angst, SPOILERS FOR THE KIMETSU MANGA

Zenitsu had a question plaguing his mind ever since (y/n) (l/n) came into his life. Not that he didn’t try wooing her and asking her to marry him, no, she turned him down rather decently and kindly, which forced him to think of her as a good friend. She was a demon slayer herself, having hailed from the same training that Kanao went through. 

As sweet and loving as she was, (y/n) could be just as violent; albeit, Zenitsu and the gang had only seen this side when she fought demons. Her violence was through a silent battle that she knew she would win, and her swordplay was fascinating to the eye. Her mother was a dancer, somewhat similar to Tanjiro’s father, and her mother had taught her everything she needed to know about dance.

However, life wasn’t too kind. (y/n) lost her mother when she was 12 and had been training under Shinobu to become a demon slayer since. She had learned the breath of the flower from Shinobu, but developed her own style scheme by performing different moves through dance. It was, to say the least, impressive.

(y/n) and Inosuke shared a rather weird relationship. 

The first time they met was in between their missions. All four of them were surrounded by a total of seven demons. Inosuke stepped in wanting to be the one to take down everyone, but quietly, (y/n) held him back (almost yelled at but the second Inosuke’s gaze met hers, he grew strangely quiet, which was unlike him). 

     “We need to plan this out. When you’re cornered, you don’t attack head-on. That’s suicide.”

She turned to Inosuke’s mask and grinned, “You’re better alive than dead, right?”

Zenitsu didn’t miss the fuwa fuwa that came out of his boar friend right then, but he was shitting his pants for something else entirely. It was after that did she introduce herself, rather peppily, and seemed like the most happy-go-lucky person they had ever laid their eyes on. Inosuke seemed particularly soft with her, which was very unlike him, but no one made any comment about it. 

     “So Inosuke, why did you become a demon slayer?” (y/n) asked, with a chirpy voice.

Zenitsu and Tanjiro watched as the white puffballs around Inosuke grew in number but the male grunted and walked away, leaving (y/n) there with a confused but happy smile.

     “What happened?”

Zenitsu hit himself on the forehead.

The thing that Zenitsu’s mind was plagued with was this: How would Inosuke behave if he was in love with someone?

For this, he’d need to understand how animals behaved. When an animal finds a potential mate, the male of the species would perform a series of activities in order to impress the female of the species. Like, in birds, the male bird would perform a wide range of dance moves or hops to impress the female, who would display her interest by signalling in and chirping accordingly.

Cut to what they were doing a few weeks ago. They were at the butterfly estate, all four of them, and Tanjiro and (y/n) were talking about him selling charcoal for a living. She was a good listener, and for Tanjiro, it was nice to be heard for a change. Perhaps, in Inosuke’s mind, Tanjiro was another male boar, showcasing his skills (Zenitsu wondered if ‘kindness’ can count as a skill) and (y/n) was considering him. Inosuke however, had a better skill—brisk loudness, and the ability to have anyone’s eye on him for longer durations of time because he was just that distracting.

     “(y/n)!” 

Ah yes, he also never forgot her name for a strange reason, but she only thought that was because he didn’t deem her a threat.

(y/n) were right, in a way.

She turned her head toward Inosuke who was holding his two swords near the courtyard. Zenitsu stood a few feet away from where (y/n) and Tanjiro sat, and watched with an unimpressed expression on his face. This wasn’t amusing in the slightest for the blond, for he had seen men pile up over women and behave in a way they otherwise wouldn’t do. But, in Inosuke’s case, it was definitely...weird.

Upon receiving (y/n)’s attention, Inosuke flipped his blades around in the air and did a few stunts, causing (y/n)’s eyes to widen with absolute amusement. Tanjiro smiled a tad bit, before turning to a disgruntled Zenitsu, and understanding thus what was going on. 

     “Whoa, that’s amazing, Inosuke!” (y/n) said, clapping her hands together.

Tanjiro noticed the white fluff balls come out of the boar boy’s head as his actions suddenly stopped. He might have been raised an animal, but Tanjiro’s heart melted at the realization that Inosuke craved the feelings of attention and kindness from people around him, just as much as he wanted to prove himself superior. Inosuke felt a range of things with the two of them, but with (y/n), he certainly felt softer. And whatever the reason might be, Tanjiro believed his friend deserved it—the boy was pure at heart. 

Coming back to the theory Zenitsu had. Tanjiro approached the boy that evening before having a quick word with him over Inosuke’s obsession with impressing you. Both of them knew that it was more than a crush, but it was also quite out of character. While Tanjiro could swallow Inosuke’s need to be softer with her, Zenitsu thought Inosuke believed it was a competition.

     “Well,” Tanjiro pondered, “It might be, in his head. That was how he was raised and that’s how he thinks? Maybe, if we don’t prove a threat to him, he’ll learn better on understanding how to communicate his feelings.”

Zenitsu scoffed, “That idiot won’t know what feelings are if it hit him on his face like a brick. He thinks like an animal!”

Tanjiro chuckled, “Doesn’t mean animals can’t love,” He turned to spot Inosuke and (y/n) in an animated conversation about butterflies, “Most often, they love better than the rest of us.”

Therefore, the two of them decided to watch Inosuke. Zenitsu did it for his own amusement, but Tanjiro enjoyed merely understanding his friend’s nature. There were three things that Inosuke had to fall under if he were in love with (y/n)—and this was all based on observation. Tanjiro knew how animals thought and behaved to a fair extent, and with his knowledge, analysing Inosuke’s behavior around her seemed like the perfect study.

#1. One mate is territorial over the other.

Zenitsu approached (y/n) one evening, wanting to call her over for dinner. She turned to the blond before waving at him, and having him sit beside her. 

     “Hi, Zenitsu-kun. Is there something you need?”

He wondered where his boar friend was at that second. There was no point to this exercise if Inosuke wasn’t around. Not that he minded having a conversation with (y/n), she was sweet. He turned to her after realizing Inosuke wasn’t around and wondered what she thought of him. 

     “So, Inosuke,” She blinked at his words, “He’s weird, right?”

     “Not at all. I think he’s really sweet.” 

Zenitsu blinked, “Really? Even though he doesn’t understand a lot of social cues? It’s because he was raised in the mountains—”

     “I find that bit fascinating, actually. Even though he was raised in the mountains, he’s so kind.”

     “How is he kind?” Zenitsu grumbled.

(y/n) blinked at the blond’s question. 

     “Do you...not like Inosuke-kun?”

Zenitsu shook his head, “It’s not like that, I just think he’s too much sometimes. Abrasive and rash—it’s like taking care of a loud kid!”

She giggled, “I like that about him! Keeps things lively.”

Zenitsu wasn’t sure now on who the weird one was. With (y/n) defending Inosuke like her life depended on it, it was certain that even she had a soft spot for the boy. But, he couldn’t tell if it was built out of sympathy or romantic feelings like he had. She was just kind, maybe, she defended Zenitsu behind his back (although this thought made him swoon on the inside). 

     “Where is he anyway?” (y/n) grumbled, frowning a bit.

It was at that second when Tanjiro came to the courtyard. (y/n) greeted the brown haired boy before blinking up at him. 

     “Tanjiro-kun, have you seen Inosuke-kun?”

Tanjiro hummed before saying, “Hm, I think he left with Kanao-chan somewhere?”

Zenitsu ‘ah’ed before understanding where the boar boy had gone now. Kanao and Inosuke had been training together for a bit, it wasn’t strange since Inosuke always wanted to get stronger than the others. With Tanjiro having beaten Kanao in that little game, Inosuke wanted to do the same. The boy thought everything was a competition. 

     “Oh?”

Tanjiro almost didn’t notice it, but it was good that he was great at capturing certain scents. Growing up with so many siblings had him understand how to differentiate between the scents of various emotions. When (y/n) stood up, waved to them and left, Tanjiro chuckled, catching Zenitsu’s attention. He wasn’t always certain about a lot of things, but he was sure that he had caught the right scent here.

     “What’s so funny?”

It was the scent of jealousy, he thought before shaking his head.

#2.  One mate tries to impress the other by being the best they can be.

Zenitsu hated missions, and he especially hated them when he had to go with Inosuke. However, the only thing holding his sanity together was that (y/n) had offered to tag along—since her crow was nowhere to be found. Inosuke was thrilled and secretly so was the blond, because now Inosuke seemed controllable. He didn’t know how it worked, but he was glad that it did.

They were to head to a village to find a demon behind a few missing people. Apparently, these people headed to work one day and never returned—and this being near a river, there were chances that this demon resided under water.

     “Can you swim, (y/n)-chan?” 

     “Yes, actually. I didn’t learn it the easy way, though. Shinobu-san basically threw me into the river and forced me to learn the hard way.” She said, dejectedly.

     “When you’re about to drown, your body learns to float!” Inosuke yelled, catching your attention.

     “Y-Yeah, I mean, I was the first one to learn too! Inosuke, I also know what plants you can eat from under water!”

     “You can eat underwater plants?!”

     “Yes! I’ll show you someday! When they’re added into your food, it’s so delicious!”

He couldn’t understand where the fuwa fuwa was coming from now—Zenitsu noticed that the fluffballs were everywhere. He wasn’t sure which mate was trying to impress the other here. 

Tanjiro, Zenitsu thought, who exactly is the animal here? 

He normally never did this, but Zenitsu was curious beyond belief! Therefore, he shut his eyes, paused for a brief moment and let his ears do the detective work. All he could hear were sounds of two hearts fluttering in harmony, an image stuck to his brain that he couldn’t wipe off (and if he was a softer, more mature individual, he would admit that the image was a rather sweet one), but Zenitsu being Zenitsu hated the fact that his mountain boy friend was in love with a sweet crackhead like (y/n)—who in retaliation was in love with a mountain boy as well.

#3. A manner of softness not seen anywhere else.

It was strange to see Inosuke being quiet—it was either only when he was in deep sleep or deep thought (which was very, very rare indeed). However, the mountain boy grew quiet a lot these days; especially because (y/n) hung out a lot whenever the boys were around. He’d watch her, observing her movements, trying to replicate whatever ‘decent’ moves she made like trying to eat with chopsticks or not wearing the mask as much when she’s around.

In all honestly, it was quite evident that Inosuke tried being a human being around her and it was sweet, Tanjiro noted, that he’d try so hard to accommodate to (y/n). 

However, Zenitsu didn’t think it was sweet. He wanted to vomit inside his mouth each time he thought of the boar boy being in love, particularly because it was the sort of love that was rare even for civilized people. The blond always had trouble finding people who accepted him for being who he was, and here was someone like Inosuke—whose personality was somehow revered instead of being shunned. 

What the hell is going on? He thought, grumbling, as he witnessed (y/n) crawl over to Inosuke, as if to sneak up on the boy. Normally, Zenitsu would have yelled and alerted his friend, but he just didn’t care anymore—it was comical, and he’d let it be.

     “Inosuke!” (y/n) pounced on the boar boy from the back, tackling him to the ground, surprising him.

Inosuke blinked, his face a dark red, before screaming in playful anger. 

     “What the hell are you doing?!”

     “Fight me!”

Inosuke’s eyes widened just for a brief moment before he growled and tackled her back, causing her to giggle and try to escape the boar boy’s advances. Now, he was chasing her around the estate, something little animals do when they play with one another. Tanjiro smiled at the sight before Zenitsu noticed fluffballs come around him.

I’ve had enough of this.

Walking over to his boar friend, he grabbed the boy from the back of his mask before yanking it off in one go. Inosuke would never mind beating the living daylight out of his blond friend, but the expression Zenitsu had just then caused him to still his movements. (y/n) paused before blinking up at Zenitsu, tilting her head slightly at the sudden halt.

     “Zenitsu-kun? Is something wrong?”

     “You two are what’s wrong!”

Inosuke growned, “What? You wanna—”

     “NO! I don’t want to fight! Do you honestly not see what’s going on here?!” 

(y/n) giggled before saying, “Inosuke and I are just fooling around—”

     “I thought we were fighting—”

     “We are, but it isn’t a fight where we hurt each other.”

     “Yes! I was thinking the same thing!”

Zenitsu slapped his forehead. He pointed to Inosuke and then pointed to (y/n). Tanjiro approached them before placing a calm hand on his blond friend. 

     “You are clearly in love with her and you are clearly in love with him!”

Inosuke didn’t look like he understood what Zenitsu had blurted out, but (y/n) was civilized where Inosuke wasn’t and just then Zenitsu had called her out rather harshly—but, it was the kind of harsh that was perhaps justified. Her eyes widened and she turned to spot Inosuke grab the blond and put him in a choke hold, but her movements stilled. She looked up to Tanjiro who gave her a kind smile before she bit her lip.

Of course she knew she loved Inosuke. Of course, she wasn’t blind. Ever since she first laid eyes on the beast boy, her mind was picked, her heart was his, and her body did things on its own—wanting to impress him, wanting to stand out and make sure Inosuke remembers her name instead of anyone else’s; she wanted to be special to him, and from all her tries, she was bound to know that her feelings for him were nothing short of romantic. 

However, could he perceive romance? Could Inosuke know what these feelings were and could he act on them? Was she the only one making the effort here? She turned to spot Inosuke fighting with Zenitsu the same way he was fighting with her and she began to wonder, ‘What if I’m actually no different?’

Tanjiro smelled the sudden hesitance radiating off of her, but before she could get anywhere, he approached her.

     “(y/n)-chan, I’m sure Inosuke feels the same way—”

     “Tanjiro-kun,” (y/n) wasn’t sure where the sudden hesitance grew inside her. “I just... I need to figure some things out on my own before I...” She turned to spot Inosuke taking off his mask, growling at the blond. 

She gave him a soft smile, confusing the hell out of him, before walking back inside the estate. 

     “Where’s she going?” Inosuke asked, blinking at her retrieving figure.

Tanjiro turned to his friend, curious. 

     “What do you feel for (y/n)-chan, Inosuke?”

     “HAH?” 

     “That’s what I’ve been trying to get him to talk about! But he keeps tackling me!” Zenitsu yelled from the background.

     “What feel for her? She’s (y/n)!”

Tanjiro’s eyes widened almost comically at how Inosuke remembered her name so accurately. 

     “Why do you remember her name so well?”

     “She’s important!”

Tanjiro blinked some more, “Important how?”

Inosuke growled, losing interest in this conversation, “(y/n) is...” He couldn’t find her and that bothered him. He looked to where she had gone off to before frowning some more.

     “Inosuke,” Tanjiro’s soft voice broke his reverie. “Do you love her?”

He didn’t know what love was, but there were a few things Inosuke was sure of. Whenever he saw (y/n), he wanted to be around her more—just like the pair of wolves he had come across as a child. The male wolf would wind its neck under the female’s whenever it was cold, and it was something Inosuke saw himself doing with her, and no one else. He remembered the swans dancing around in the water with one another, attaching themselves by every inch of their feathers and Inosuke wanted nothing more than to learn how her skin felt against his. 

He recalled the group of monkeys that was led by a strong male and a fat female, which was fat because the male had given her his babies. One day, Inosuke dreamed of having little Inosuke babies with (y/n).

If this was what love was then what Inosuke felt for (y/n) was much, much more.

Growling, he ran off to where (y/n) might have gone, and noticed you sitting by the engawa. Taking off his mask, Inosuke sat beside her without warning, and noticed her red face. His eyes widened when he saw that expression on (y/n)—and all the thoughts he had were starting to vanish. Sure, the animals looked happy and did things he wanted to do, but no animal could compare to how beautiful she looked right then. He gulped before leaning closer to her, smelling her face—unsure of what to do at a time like this. Inosuke didn’t want to scare her, but he was confident that she would not be scared.

Zenitsu did not count a fourth thing that Inosuke would fall under if he was in love. The ability to change and adapt for a certain someone.

     “Inosuke, do you... do you know what love is?”

He didn’t, and he sure as hell was scared to tell her that he had no idea.

     “What I feel for you... I want to be around you all the time. I want to hold your hand and... and hold you in my arms and touch your hair—”

Inosuke grabbed (y/n)’s hand forcefully before placing it on his hair, but paused when he noticed her wince.

     “Did I hurt you?”

(y/n) smiled warmly, her heart beating rapidly as she shook her head, “I’m not sure if you know what love is, Inosuke...” 

He frowned, “I don’t know what to tell you.” 

He was an animal, born and raised in conditions that other people could have perhaps not survived. There was very little he knew about the ways of how human beings displayed affection. However, there was one way he was sure of—one way that could perhaps show her what he felt. Prove to her that whatever this love emotion was, it had nothing on him.

Because what Inosuke felt for (y/n) was far, far stronger than some stupid emotion.

He leaned forward and kissed her, grabbing the back of her hair. (y/n) had no idea where he had learned how to kiss, and even if he knew what this meant, but a second later, Inosuke’s tongue darted downwards to her neck, biting it lightly, marking the texture of her soft skin. His hand was firm behind her head and he pulled lightly, pressing her to him—before leaning back and capturing her lips again.

(y/n)’s eyes were wide and she was almost breathless; unsure of how to react, her hands slowly travelled to his hair and she buried her fingers in his hair, marvelling at how soft his locks were. She kissed back slowly, and did not miss the passion Inosuke brought forth with what he was doing. Once again, he pulled away before reaching her collarbone and biting lightly. The second (y/n) let out a soft moan, Inosuke stopped.

     “Do you feel warm?”

Her face rivalled a spider lily. Of course she felt warm!

Inosuke looked at her and smirked, “A male marks his female, in the mountains, this is how beasts mark their mates.”

(y/n)’s eyes widened. Mate? She blinked before grabbing his face and studying it, almost enthralled with what she had learned.

     “Inosuke, there is so much you need to learn!”

But, the second she thought of how his tongue travelled to her neck and collarbone, maybe, he didn’t have to learn much after all.

*

When Inosuke’s firstborn son turned out to be a bit timid, Inosuke acquired the ability—acting out on empathy. (y/n) watched him, hold his five-year old son after the boy had fallen off a small tree and hurt his knee.

     “This is going to sting,” Inosuke said, before putting some pressure on to the little boy’s wound, along with a raw medicine he had made to prevent any infection. 

The boy cried instantly, which caused Inosuke to turn to (y/n), who was cradling their third born daughter, with a smile on her face. He wouldn’t reveal to a great many people that watching his son wince and cry hurt his chest more than anything ever had, but watching (y/n) smile back at him, as he sat there with a smile on his face made him appreciate everything that was soft in the world.

He had stopped asking people to fight him because honestly, it turned exhausting. After having three children, Inosuke had had enough—he wanted to mellow down and sit back, smell his wife’s hair and watch their children grow. He often wondered how Tanjiro and the others were doing, and he thought of how the life in the city was not one for him at all. He hoped that their paths would cross one day, but turning to (y/n), as their youngest daughter cooed in (y/n)’s arms, Inosuke was at peace.

     “What are you staring at!? Fight me!”

Inosuke narrowed his eyes and turned to his three-year old girl, whose expressions and personality rivalled his own. He heard (y/n) chuckle from the back before ignoring her and getting up, grabbing the little girl by her ankle and having her dangle upside down.

     “This—”

     “Stop it, runt.” 

Oh, but he would not deny how much he adored that feisty little spirit of hers. She growled before pinching her father’s hold, causing him to abruptly let her go, as she landed on the ground with a ‘thud’. She got back up and rushed to her father, hands around his neck, Inosuke grumbling before picking her up. If only he had understood that his cries ‘fight me’ were a sign of being touch-starved, he’d have avoided a great many unnecessary fights.

     “Let me go—”

     “Shut up.”

Inosuke’s hand wrapped around his small daughter’s form before running it up and down on her back, calming her down. The child’s eyes widened before she quieted down, and returning her father’s embrace.

A small tug at his sleeve made him look at his son now, who gave him a needy look as well. Inosuke knelt down and picked up his boy, before hugging both of them, standing like a tree in the middle of the house.

     “Never thought you’d turn into such a softie, Inosuke!” (y/n) giggled, before expecting a shout or a loud comeback.

Instead, her eyes widened when she saw him smile at her, each hand cradling his children, as he watched her, with the softest eyes he could conjure.

Honestly, she could never let down the way he told her he loved her each day, not through words, not through mindless actions, but merely by looking at her like his entire life belonged to her. For a man raised in the mountains, Inosuke knew how to love better than the rest of humanity itself.

If only Zenitsu could see the man now, she thought, chuckling.

[haloshornsinkstains]

Mine [Tomura Shigaraki]

This is a bit different from most of my other writing I think? Read the content warnings. It’s not as fluffy as a lot of my other writing. It was just an idea that wouldn’t go away and I finally got it all written out.

Sorry I haven’t updated much this week, first week back at work has been rough. Always open for requests though, especially headcanons or thirsts/drabbles atm.

CW: Omegaverse (Alpha!Shigaraki, Omega!Reader), female reader, NSFW, dubcon , blood, violence, kidnapping

Distressed omegas were meant to be a cowering, whimpering mess. They were meant to be easy to control, to comply subserviently with an Alpha, or even a Beta, in order to remedy whatever situation had them in such a state. Distressed omegas were most certainly not meant to be snarling, snapping and occasionally sending ripples of electricity and broken earth out at their captors. Which is exactly what you were doing.

 It was supposed to be an easy job, scope the place out, report back on your findings. The place was not, according to all the previous intel, supposed to be a hideout for one of the most notorious villain groups in all Japan. But just your luck, that was exactly what it was. You’d expected to die, honestly, when the small blonde had appeared out of nowhere. Maybe dying would have been the better option, rather than being tied up and surrounded by the League. You weren’t even entirely sure why you weren’t dead, she’d mumbled something about your scent and in a blurry series of events you’d found yourself here, growling at their leader as he crouched before you, easily recognisable with the hand obscuring his face.

 “Can someone tell me why we have a distressed omega in the middle of our floor?” He rasped, taking his eyes away from you for a moment to scan the group. “We caught her sneaking around!” Toga grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet.  “Right. So why is she here and not, say, dead?” Shigaraki growled, before whipping his head back to you, nose wrinkled. “And will you stop that? You smell terrible.” You merely snarled in response. You knew your distress tinged your natural scent with a sour note that wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t as if you could control the feeling given your current predicament. “Um, boss, we do have her tied up. It’s probably not entirely her fault.” “Spinny is right. She smelled so good before~” Toga beamed. You snorted. “She’s bleeding, of course you thought she smelled good.” “Not like that! The blood smelled good, but she smelled right before she started bleeding. Then she smelled better~”  Tomura sighed, shifting forwards towards you to try and see what the beta girl meant. You shuffled backwards, baring your teeth at him in a snarl, sparks skittering off your skin towards him. Tomura snarled back, sharp canines glinting from between chapped lips in a clear threat. “Stop it! I could just kill you you know?” He glanced over his shoulder, missing the way your body drooped in poorly hidden hurt at his next words. “You just had to bring a broken omega didn’t you brat?”  Broken. You’d heard that before. No one wanted an omega who snarled and snapped back, instead of submitting at the drop of a hat. Omegas were supposed to be subservient. Motherly. They were supposed to have supportive roles. You were none of those, topped with an offensive type quirk, you weren’t what anyone would look for in an omega mate. You were broken, by their standards. “Stop. Calm down.” You reacted immediately to the new Alpha voice, your body relaxing against your own will, every fibre of your being racing to obey the alpha’s command. You turned your head to scowl at the man who’d pulled such a dirty trick, stupid Alpha’s and their stupid ability to make Omega’s obey. A scarred face grinned back at you, Dabi you realised, another strong Alpha - had to be to make you submit like that when you were so riled up. “You could’ve done that too you know creep, threatening her wasn’t going to make her any less distressed.” He huffed. “You’re the worst Alpha I’ve ever met.” Tomura scowled, scratching at his neck. “You must not spend much time with yourself.” Dabi huffed a laugh, leaning against the wall behind you. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your neck, clearly watching for you to make some move to attack as Tomura shifted closer. His scent was getting stronger, too much so to just account for his proximity. He was trying to calm you, you realised belatedly, a hand twitching near his neck as if he didn’t dare scratch at the damaged glands further. It took a moment for the scent to really hit you, your eyes going wide and panicked as your body reacted, the urge to fling yourself towards him and flee warring between each other and leaving your frozen in place. You shook your head as a needy whine bubbled from your throat unbidden. Tomura fell backwards, brows pinched together in what you thought was a similar kind of distress. In a panic you tried to focus on a different scent, anything to push the scent of dusty rooms and decaying leaves and belonging from your nose. Your head whipped to Dabi behind you, breathing deeply through your nose. He was another Alpha, surely his scent should do something to mask Tomura’s, but the smoke and spice was far too faint to cover whatever the other Alpha had pumped through the room. Noticing your gaze Dabi just offered a lazy shrug, tilting his head slightly with a smug smirk. The burn scars that covered his neck must have messed with his scent glands, which also explained the tang of burnt flesh you got from him. The Betas weren’t doing much either, and everyone smelled faintly of blood, including you. With another needy whine you gave up and focused hard on the floor, trying not to breathe more than strictly necessary. The world around you blurred and faded as you fought every instinct in you screaming to reach out to the Alpha and bare your neck to his teeth. 'Stupid body, stop it. I'm better than this, I've met plenty of strong Alphas before.' 'But none of them smelled like that. Good enough to make you react like this' your traitorous mind whispered back. 'Screw that. I am not my secondary gender. I'm a hero. I don't roll over for anyone, and certainly not an infamous villain. No matter how good he smells…' 'Smells like mate. Your Alpha.' '...mate. No!'. You snarled into the floor, not quite sure when you’d shifted position like this. You vaguely registered the shuffle of feet, Tomura had stood and moved away at some point, and the low rasp of orders. "Spinner, go put her somewhere." "Okay? Uh, where?" "Anywhere but here." A door slammed and you felt yourself being lifted, heated over a shoulder. Spinner you guessed, he smelled weird, even under the blood and soft scent that marks him as part of the pack. His smell was dry, like sand and tanned leather and something reptilliant you couldn't place. He jostled you slightly as he moved down some stairs, making you hiss at him in irritation. He growled back, finally dumping you in a small cellar, your hands still tied.

“What was that all about?” Toga asked, spinning a knife in her hands.  “You can’t guess?” Dabi sighed. “Do you know anything?” Toga just shrugged, humming to herself. “I know how to stab people.” “From the omega’s reaction I’d say she smelled a mate.” Compress sighed. “I’m sure you can piece together who from the reaction.” “Oh. Oh. Maybe that’s why she smelled so nice before.” Dabi shrugged. “What did she smell like before? I only got the sour distressed smell, and… well.” Toga winced, the sour smell had been unpleasant sure, but the strange musk after it hadn’t been so bad. It reminded her of how things smelled after she got to play with blood. “She smelled good, like thunderstorms and old things. A bit like the bar when we first got here, except with more lightning.” “That explains it. Creepy hands McGee is going to be a child about it though.” Dabi hummed.  “You should have more faith in our leader.” Dabi shot Compress a disbelieving look and shook his head. “This is going to be a pain.”

You weren’t sure how long you’d been trapped in their cellar. Two days maybe, if they were bringing you three meals a day, longer if not and well… three meals a day seemed a little too generous for the group of villains. Yet no one had come to find you, probably assumed you were dead you reasoned, but the abandonment stung somewhere deep in your chest. You’d smelled your mate several times since you’d been captured too, lurking outside the door but never coming any further. Each time the battle with your instincts got harder, the omega inside you begging to call out, to crawl to the door and beg for him to come in. Occasionally small whimpers would slip past your lips, ones that you would scold yourself for, but worse was the answering growl that sometimes came from the other side of the door. Low and possessive and filled with a promise of something both dangerous and so, so tempting. Those times it was even harder to stay back, your body trembling from the effort of staying still. You didn’t want him, not logically, he was dangerous and cruel and evil. Everything opposed to what you worked for in life. But your traitorous body smelled a mate, the first one you’d met since high school, and it wanted him so badly it ached. 

Meanwhile Dabi was getting more and more frustrated, nothing was happening with the League while their boss was fixated on their captive, and while he didn’t really care about the League’s goals where they diverged from his own, the inactivity was boring the others and their restlessness was driving him insane. That and the constant growling of the other Alpha made his hackles rise, part of him he thought he’d buried long ago wanting to fight over the omega. It was stupid and he hated it, so it needed to be solved, and he knew just the thing to kick Shigaraki into action.

 You snapped awake from a fitful sleep as you heard the door to the cellar opening. A traitorous part of your mind hoping it would be your mate. Instead the faint smell of burning caught you nose and you huffed, turning away from the other Alpha. You heard a growl from behind you but ignored it, pulling the blanket around you protectively. “Go away.”  There was a rough laugh. “I don’t think so little Omega. All this pining is getting annoying.” You huffed. “There is no pining. But if you’re here to kill me just get it over with, this cellar smells terrible.” “Tempting but no” he grabbed your shoulders, flipping you onto your back in one swift motion “I’ve got a much better plan.” Your body tensed up, preparing to fight whatever this asshole planned to do to you, despite the power-dampening bands they’d locked onto your wrists. You pulled your legs up, closing them tightly, ready to kick him away. But Dabi was deceptively strong, pinning your legs down with one arm as his other grabbed something from his coat pocket, binding it over your nose and mouth. A gag, you thought at first, ready to scream for help that probably wouldn’t come as soon. But then the smell hit you, your eyes going wide and panicked. It was his smell, dusty and decaying and enough to set all of your nerves on fire. You thrashed on the bed, tossing your head around and trying to get it off, get away from the intoxicating scent, but Dabi had a hand pressed hard against your throat. “Behave.” You froze with a whimper that you hated yourself for. “Good Omega. Now, we just need to wait until your heat kicks in and this’ll all be over.” You struggled weakly again, your heat hadn’t been very far off when you first broke in here anyway, the overwhelming scent of Alpha, of Mate, would only bring it on faster. And with Dabi pressing down on your neck you felt you might pass out before you could get the clothing off you. Everything was hazy and the blood was pounding in your ears as the edges of your vision darkened.

 Dabi sighed, climbing off you and sniffing the air. Beneath the sour sting of distress he could smell the sweetness and thick musk that signalled an impending heat. A couple hours and you’d be in full heat he figured, plenty of time to convince the creep to get down here and trap him in here with you. Dabi figured he’d either kill you, fuck you and then kill you or (and it was probably the least likely) actually claim you as a mate and stop this ridiculous moping. Maybe having an omega around the place would be useful, you were supposed to be good at looking after people and all that shit and god knows these idiots need it. Now he just had to convince the creep to actually enter the cellar.

 In the end it was easier than he thought. All he had to do was suggest you were in some kind of danger and some long dormant Alpha instincts seemed to kick in, sending Shigaraki darting into the cellar before his brain could catch up with what he was doing. With a satisfied bark of laughter Dabi slammed the door shut again, banking on the boss’ instincts kicking in before he could think of disintegrate the door with his quirk. Sliding the lock shut he turned to address the door, raising his voice so he could be heard inside. “We’re all sick of your nonsense, so either fuck or kill each other. I don’t care.” You were staring wide eyed at Shigaraki from your makeshift blanket nest, a sheen of sweat making your skin almost glow in the dim light. The room stank with the scent of your heat, sickly sweet and tinged with ozone. For his part Shiagraki had pressed himself back against the door, staring at you as if you were about to pounce on him and eat him alive. Though, in his defence, your instincts were screaming at you to do exactly that. In a way it was almost funny, that something so simple could reduce someone so powerful to panic like this, but you knew how dangerous that could be at the same time, how easily he could kill you. You tried to growl at him, but it came out more like a needy whimper, a ripple of pain running through your body. You knew it was only a matter of time before he lost control, maybe it was better to just get it over with… the way your body was screaming at you was getting harder to ignore too. Before you realised what was happening you had started to crawl towards him, his snarl the only thing that snapped you out of the heat daze and made you stop. “Stay back.” You froze, studying him carefully. He was trembling, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face, his hands frozen into claws on the floor, pinkies raised. So it was getting to him faster than you bargained for. Great.  “I’m trying!” You hissed. “Try harder!” You narrowed your eyes, a snarl escaping your lips. “Screw you.” He answered with a growl, deep and low in his throat, the sound making you whine and press yourself to the floor on instinct, hips raised in the air. In the few seconds it took you to realise what you were doing something in Tomura snapped, the scent of your heat and the submissive mating position sparking every instinct in his body. In a flash you’re trapped beneath him, feeling the solid press of his length against your ass. He’s trembling, barely restrained as he ruts against your clothing. It’s sweet, in a twisted way, that he’s this far gone but still trying to hold on to a thread of control, to wait for your consent. And with him pressed so close, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, you know you can’t hold off much longer. Each time you try to say no it comes out as whine, your heat growing stronger with each passing heartbeat. “Please.” It comes out as a whine, but your hips rocking back against his is more than enough to tell him what you want.

 His fingers scrabbled at your pants, careful to keep his pinkie away from the clothes even in this state.  You heard the groan as he saw the mess of slick sticking to your underwear, you could feel it starting to run down your legs, the smell almost overwhelming. You heard more fabric rustle before you felt him pressing against you, felt the quiver in his body as he stilled with his head just pressing at your entrance. You whined, low and needy, bucking your hips back against him again, knees pressed together by your hastily tugged down clothes and chest cold against the floor. Behind you he growls, hips bucking forwards with enough force to almost push you over. His body folded over yours, hands pressed against the floor, away from you. A small thing, but it speaks volumes about his unwillingness to hurt you, that the bond of knowing you’re mates has stuck with him too. It’s the last coherent thought you have before your brain is completely overcome with a haze of lust, devoid of any thoughts except how good his cock feels inside you, hard and heavy rubbing along your inner walls. Your hands scrabble against the floor as he bucks up into you, pressing against a spot on your insides with every thrust that makes you see stars, his breath a series of harsh pants in your ears. There’s no dirty talk, no indication how much he’s enjoying this aside from the occasional ‘fuck’ or low moan. You could feel his knot pressing against your entrance, stretching you a little more with each thrust, brushing against your clit and pushing you closer and closer to your release. You knew anyone who passed would be able to hear your wanton moans and whimpers through the door, too lost in pleasure to control your volume. “Please. Please knot me Alpha, mate.” You whined, rocking back against him. “Need you.” There was a low chuckle from above you, dark and twisted. “Lost all your fight little omega? How pitiful.” You whined, clenching down around him. It was all it took for him to thrust hard once more, his knot pushing past your outer ring and locking itself inside you. The sudden pressure tipped you over the edge, spasming around his dick, barely aware as he made a final few shallow thrusts before groaning and tipping over the edge himself, filling you with his warm come. The pain of his teeth latching onto your neck, the sharpened canines piercing through the bond mark, was enough to bring you out of your daze. “Mine.”  Locked together you could feel his tongue lapping at the wound, cleaning the blood and soothing the sting of the bite. You tried not to struggle, worried the movement would anger him, even as you could hear the mutterings of ‘mine, my omega’ against your skin. With the worst of your heat sated right now you could almost think clearly again, despite the stretch of his knot inside you firing all kinds of signals inside your body. You’d allowed yourself to be claimed by one of the biggest villains in Japan, in a dingy basement against a cold stone floor. He’d bitten you and marked you as his. There was no way they were going to let you out of there now, no matter how much you begged or used your ‘omega charms’ on them. You were trapped. At least the claim would offer you some protection from the others, or so you hoped.

What on earth had you gotten yourself into?

[kim-monsterlings]

Hi, I really like your writing and I would love to request a monster match!

About me: I’m a girl who is pretty friendly and am known to be “overly nice” but have a sarcastic funny side. I’m more of an ambivert and have a bit of a dark side that pokes out every now and then especially in my art. I do a lot of reading and artwork I have a gender preference for males.

About them:

I like someone who is a bit cold to outsiders but treats me sweetly, someone who has a bit of a dominant side, and someone who has a sense of humor. Physically I like someone tall and thin (but in a muscular kinda way) with dark hair and light eyes. My love language is physical touch and words of affirmation.

Preferences : nothing really to avoid ! Monster preferences I think demons are really cool but if you are in the mood to write something specific you can do that too! I like the hate to love tropes , especially when it involves one person hating the person pining for them. NSFW would be preferred ! Thank you I hope this is ok!

Deon - M Tiefling x F Human (Reader) // NSFW Monster Match

Anon monster match <3 I hope you love him!

Matches under the read more!

Content: NSFW/Lemon; enemies to lovers/hate to lovers trope, mutual pining, passing insults, light flirting, minor angst, intimacy (throat kisses), D/S (dominant monster), fluff, allusions to bondage and further BDSM, blowjob (no release), alluding to more

Masterlist // Monster Match Info + Masterlist // My Ko-Fi

Headcanon

Had there been any other option so close to home, the faint warmth of the old antique's store wouldn't welcome you so often. Though nowhere else had such range - such depth to the college, one passed through the owner's family through generations, and the reason you returned when nothing else preoccupied you.

Some little part of you enjoyed the spike of discomfort on entering; from facing the faded artworks and the piercing glare by the harshened scowl of a tiefling, an expression he fell into by practiced ease.

With so little way of causing such offence, you hadn't realised your first passing welcome of "good morning," would incite loathing, until the dusk-skinned tiefling scoffed.

Not a step from the entryway, you had bristled - both by the unnecessary response, and the depth of his voice, sounding almost like a growl.

"You're not going to say it back?"

Ebony strands curled around three horns - two at his temples, long like the devil's, and a third protruding from the centre of his forehead - so unlike the golden tint to his narrowing eyes. Deon, his badge said, pinned to his shirt accentuating his muscular frame.

From behind his hidden legs - cloven, you'd seen once, much like a satyr's, his thin tail whipped. "Not to you."

Your heart sought what it so obviously couldn't have. Each stinging roll of his eyes lured you back once more in search of an inspiring antique, something to become your week's motivation for a blank canvas.

Most often, the grunts came in mild insults; "I thought I'd finally rid myself of you," or, "what have I ever done to deserve such torture?"

Sharp stares followed your every move on your visits, only deterred when you smiled bright - not at all insincere. "Oh, Deon. Did you miss me?"

"Missed your purse."

"Charming."

In spite only, he winked, a fluttering of long eyelashes, and you ducked to hide your breathlessness. No further retorts came at the quiet chimes of another customer entering, though the tiefling's stare never wavered from you until they had paid and left again.

He paid no mind to such manners as you took their place; perks of inheriting the shop, you suppose.

With your change pooling in your palm, so gently the touch of slender fingers stroking your knuckles came, that you nearly dropped the money.

"Now, run on home," he murmured, head tilting. "And allow me a week of peace before showing your face again."

Your trembling was unmistakable and his smirk rose cruelly when you whispered, "you'd miss me too much."

Without a denial, you left.

He had his week's reprieve from you, and longer.

Your commission fell through midway. After days of preparation - of enduring Deon's taunts as you meandered the old shop, they compensated your part of the cost for your troubles, though no longer wished to have it completed.

You'd little need for returning with no reason to seek inspiration. In such a state, too, when you wanted nothing more than to see the tiefling responsible for your sour mood, one wrong quip would crush you.

Only with a month gone absent - compared to your usual frequenting three times a week, if not more, did you draw a deep breath at the entrance.

"You're back."

Clawed nails rapped on the counter, sharp cheekbones rested on his palm. Deon's lips pursed and the weight of his stare fell from your bitten lip to your shaking hands.

"Haven't seen you in a while."

"Deon-"

"I missed you, is all."

His thumb dipped between his lips in your silence, as if inviting you to take the bait, but you couldn't. Another week passed before you brushed beneath the dangling chimes and into the first aisle, breath shallow and waiting.

Even his whisper had you aching.

"About what I said before..."

"You missed my purse, I know."

"No."

So sharp, you turned like he'd snatched you himself. Deon held your eyes steady, only the curling of his tail betraying his discomfort.

"I missed you. Where have you been?"

"One month was long enough for you to learn some manners, then." His smile was slight, and your knees felt weak. Deon had never smiled at you without a veil of displeasure. "Long enough for you to cease hating me, too?"

Maybe it was the softening of your voice, but Deon eased, too. "Who said I don't still?"

"I can go."

"Stay. Stay," he murmured, and the counter lifted for him to step through.

He walked you through every aisle with a hand just brushing yours, never looking from your growing smile. It didn't take a week for you to return, and this time, his first words were:

"Good morning."

Drabble

"Enough of that now, love." 

"It's nearly finished." 

"As it was nearly finished when I left some hours ago," your tiefling murmured, lips to your temple. "It will be almost done tomorrow, too. There's time left for it. Now is for me."

Warm, strong arms guided yours away from the detailed canvas. It wasn't nearly completed - nor would it be tomorrow afternoon, though you had plenty of time before needing it done. After being so far apart all day, his persistent, open-mouthed kisses fluttering down your throat begged for you to turn away. 

The piece's inspiration stemmed from an old purchase from him, before Deon had finally come to his senses - as he liked to tease, and decided to take you out somewhere nice to make amends for his lack of manners. 

Even if he couldn't understand the deeper meanings to every curving line and deeper shading, he would praise you all the same with whispers of your talent and how proud he was.  

Something so simple always shattered your focus. 

Gone several minutes without him leaning to greet you with a proper kiss, you forced away your frown and said, "I'll be done soon." 

Without needing to turn, you could imagine the clenching of his sharp jaw. A day passing uncomfortably around customers had him wound tight and contemplating what to do with you, how to lure you away from your work, before delicate hands curled to your shoulders with a firm squeeze. 

"Not another word, unless I've asked you a question. Understand?" 

Just like that, with little more than a whisper sentence, an instruction, your heart leapt. Your day hadn't been so discomforting that the steady pressing of his chest to your back never came to mind until he squeezed your arms again in warning. 

"I understand." 

Teeth caught the shell of your ear. "Remind me of your safe word." 

"Antique." 

He hummed and removed himself from you. "Clothes off. Kneel before the bed." 

Not wanting to waste another precious second, you flew. Times like these, with his quiet laugh warming the space you vacated, your body already thrummed with the promise of his whisper declarations soon to leave imprints from your breasts to your trembling thighs. 

From his scowling to his kisses, it felt like whiplash. Clinging to his initial loathing before surrendering to your bright smiles and genuine small talk changed in that month apart, though he utilised the distance he'd once fostered to hold himself back from your warming body, aching and bare in wait. 

The brief touch of his leather belt tapped your cheek. Not for now, you could almost hear him say as it fell around your shoulders. 

"Before I take you on your back beneath me," he said, trousers now nudged low to bare his slightly furred legs. "You're going to earn it." 

You were leaning to brush your tongue against his dark and swollen cock before Deon had even told you to. Flushed and slick so soon, dragging against your lips, he reached to cradle your crown and coax you closer. 

Neither of you fixated on how he broke when you curled your tongue's tip to the throbbing underside of his length, groaning enough he twitched. 

"Save your strength," he breathed. "I've got plans for you."

[1p2p-heta-imagines]

idk if u remember the ghost headcanons u did a while ago but could u write another scenario to do with ghost 2p france with a roommate? i thought it was rly cute

(Continues under the read more! And I’m sorry if this is bad, it’s a little rushed!)

(Trigger warning for vague suicide/death mention, please don’t proceed if that is triggering and please take care of your mental health!! Tell me if I need to tag anything else🖤)

Louis couldn't quite tell if it was raining or not, only vaguely managing to hear the tapping against the glass, any hope of quickly checking was destroyed by the existence of the closed curtains. It could be tree branches tapping against the glass, maybe a bird. He couldn't find it in himself to get up quite yet, he didn't have a reason to.

The door was quickly shut, that was one thing he could be sure of just by hearing it. The familiar jingling of keys that lasted a little too long, his roomate clearly struggling to close it again, confirmed this.

"I'm home!" They called out to him.

They always did tell him, he was thankful for that. He wasn't sure why he was, maybe someone acknowledging his existence was something he missed after all these years of being esentially alone.

They walked into the living room, looking at him laying on the couch, his face hidden by hair that he couldn't get himself to move away. They poked his calf lightly, trying to make sure they had his attention and he wasn't asleep.

"Will you help me pack away groceries?" They asked quietly, not quite sure if he was awake or not.

He supposed he now had a reason to get up. He nodded, mustering up every ounce of motivation he had and forcing himself to sit up. He was exhausted, not for any particular reason. He had gotten enough sleep last night, but everything just seemed almost like it was ten times harder than usual.

He floated towards them, not wanting to actually put the effort in needed to walk. He saw that they had 4 plastic bags in their hands, each more or less full of different things that they wanted and/or needed. He didn't realise they had been out for so long, it only seemed like a couple minutes but clearly not.

"Here," They handed him two of the bags, "Thank you for helping, these are really heavy,"

"Mmhm, you're welcome."

He hadn't been in the kitchen for a while, he only really ever went in there when he wanted to talk to his roommate. He noted that they had gotten a new microwave at some point, he couldn't remember when. He seemed to forget a lot, days would always blur together and details - even big events - would be lost within his mind.

His roommate bounded in after him, dropping their bags on the kitchen table. The table hadn't changed from when Louis lived there, alive. A lot of the house was different, mostly only his room and the attic remaining the same, except the attic had gained a thick layed of dust on everything. Or so he assumed it had, he never went up there.

He snapped himself out of his imagination, realising that he was just staring at the floor with bags in his hands. He had been doing that a lot recently, more than when he was alive.

"Louis, are we friends?" His roommate spoke up, out of nowhere.

"I think so? I don't really know. Never really had them." He responded. The last time he had afriend was when he was back in school, and it had been a long time since that.

"What do you do when I'm out? The TV is never on, you're always awake when I come back, but nothing really seems different. Are you alright?"

"I don't have much of a reason to get up or do anything, so I mostly just lay there. Sometimes I try to remember things, maybe end up remembeing something I did when alive and regret my entire existence. Like how I have the permanent memory of getting rejected because, of course, that just had to be one I remember." He shuddered a little as the memory replayed in his mind.

They tapped his shoulder, gently. Handing him a sweater that they clearly bought for him. He held it in his hands, it was pretty soft for an item of clothing that was just bought, usually he had to wear it a couple times until it wa comforable.

"It's Winter, it's always freezing when I come back so I got you it, I worry about you sometimes. But do you remember anything else?"

"Thank you? But not much. Vague memories of a child, can't remember if they were mine or not. I went to college, can't remember what for though. I can't remember my parents, any possible siblings or lovers, no one." He was as honest as he could be, he didn't like to say he remembered his death because, in truth, he didn't remember it all that well.

"We'll find out about them, I'll help you! I'm sure we can find your bith certificate or something! Maybe it's in the attic, I'll go searching, alright?" His roommate suddenly got energetic, basically bouncing in place.

He side-eyed them as he finished packing away the last of the things that needed to go in the kitchen. There was still a couple things like new clothes and new blankets that would be placed elsewhere in the house.

However, currently, they seemed stubborn in helping first, and he knew it was basically useless to fight against them when it came to things like this.

"Suppose it can't hurt to try." He sighed.

[yostresswritinggirl]

100 Followers Special

(And how to participate) you don't need to be a follower to vote ack

~yostresswritinggirl

Hello AGAIN, with your back to back followers special! Exiled here, very tired, as I just closed the requests box for our 50 followers special. I asked for some recommendations and no one helped me so this is what I came up with!

Granted, it's nothing that special, I literally just dumped my notes into this so—

Please make sure to follow the guidelines and read this thoroughly to properly participate!

1. You will be given a long list of fic prompts specific to a character that I've come up with for weeks on end, please don't steal, as I will remove them after this event is done!

2. Voting! You now have the power to influence my writing schedule haha- what you need to do: is to pick three prompts from the list and send it to me; either through reblog tag, a reply, or in my ask box (not anon so we can count fairly, will not publish these answers tho so worry not)! Not in messages tho! It should be in this format:

1. Character - prompt or prompt title

2. Character - prompt or prompt title

3. Character - prompt or prompt title

example:

1. Albedo - Citrinitas

2. Zhongli - Braid

3. Xingqui - Author!Reader

The top three most voted prompt and character will be the next fics I'll publish after I'm done with the current reqs. Speaking of: Voting ends when I finish the current reqs. You'll know it's done once the counter in my blog desc reaches 12/12.

3. In addition to the three prompts, you also get to add your own prompt to it! My prompts list does not include ALL the characters that's why I wanted to give you this option too! Add a fourth number and specify a character, a prompt/idea, and the format of the fic! Format it this way:

4. Character - Prompt/Idea (Format)

4. Kaeya - What's under that eyepatch? (Scenario)

After I pooled the answers, I'll randomly pick between the bonus answers and write them last! So give it your best shot!

4. Tags-list! I thought this would be necessary for this kind of a whim special, so if you wanna be tagged, just put Tag Me! at the end of your vote. Please make sure that you're actually able to be tagged because I just tried and some users are not in my orbit huhu, look here

5. If a pocket watch/series prompt gets chosen, I will only post the first chapter, not the whole damn fic pls. Have mercy,,,

I will post a counter of the top three in my blog description and will be updated as frequently as possible. Any questions, please direct to this post or my dms <3

Without further ado, here is your choice list!

Xingqui - "My liege, would you care to accompany me on my reading break? I've picked up a romance novel and it reminded me of us."

-> Author!Reader: You met Xingqui at Wanwen Bookhouse when delivering a batch of your newly-published book. But as a ghost writer, no one knew it was you that authored such books. Safe to say it was cute watching the noble bookworm fanboy about you in front of you. [FLUFF] [FIC]

-> Headcanons with a reader older than Xingqui who's a close family friend of the Feiyun Commerce Guild. Fascinated after meeting you in a party, the noble boy aspires to become the best man for you despite the difference, promising to be the best suitable partner for you in the future. [FLUFF] [HEADCANON SCENARIO]

Childe - "Hey there, comrade! What a coincidence that we had a break at the same time, care to accompany me for a walk? I promise I won’t lead you to a fight haha... hey, don’t look at me like that!”

-> Antinomy -  The 10th Harbinger (You) and the little shit they had to mentor (Childe), this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers. [FLANGST] [ONESHOT]

Albedo - "Ah, it's you. I've heard of fleeting rumors that you've been pestering a certain someone just to see me. Next time, just come directly to me, I wouldn't mind the assertiveness."

-> Refer to these three as well: Albedo Fic Ideas [FLUFF/FLANGST/FLANGST] [ONESHOT/ONESHOT/SERIES]

-> “You’re Enough”: A year into being the new Chief Alchemist of Mond, Albedo finds himself holed up in his room in the dead of night, haunted as he continuously comes out empty on his research to bring his master back, feeling inadequate. So you reminded him of what he’s capable of. [FLUFF?] [ONESHOT INSPIRED BY You Are Enough - Sleeping At Last]

-> Under the Artificial Sky: Michaelangelo Scenario focused on Albedo’s sketching aspect. Grand Master Varka and Acting Grand Master Jean figured Albedo needed a break and a change of scenery, and sent him off under the guise of a commission in Liyue. What he didn’t expect was another artist from Fontaine accompanying him in this big project.(Albedo and Reader are tasked to paint the new Jade Chamber within 7 days) [FLUFF] [SERIES - 7 CHAPTERS]

-> Albedo SMUT: I had this idea while laying wide awake at 3 AM. The alchemist had been trying all remedies to shake off the stress and fatigue in his system and they all seemed to fail, no amount of sketching or discoveries can pull him away from it. So when you offered a solution he hasn’t heard, he’d jump at it immediately. “You know, some people say having intercourse with someone is a good stress-reliever.” “Intercourse? If it’s true, then please, I wish to have intercourse with you.” “Wha- wait Albedo, do you not know what that is? It’s only done between lovers!” “Convenient, I love you, anything else?” (Two virgin dumbasses do the thing to relieve stress) [SMUT] [ONESHOT]

Xiao - “I’ve taken care of every threat around this area, you can relax now, I made sure of that.”

-> What is it with you and Qingxin flowers? The Traveler had once heard of Xiao’s affinity for Qingxin flowers, and they’re flying companion boldly asked this lingering question to the adepti himself. His pupils dilate and sharpen before Paimon could finish her sentence. (An origin story about his favorite flower, and his favorite person) [SLIGHT FLANGST] [ONESHOT]

-> Just how harmful is adeptal energy to normal humans? You both found out in the worst way possible: silently, deadly. (Slight spoiler: you fucking die) [ANGST] [ONESHOT]

-> Nightmares Taste Horrible: He’s seen that look in your eyes and the ancient soul within it; you’ve lived long ago, and the only thing your soul carried now was the nightmares of a macabre timeline. Was it him or was it demons that brought you that fear? No matter, he’ll protect you even from yourself. (eating the nightmare of a dead soul reincarnated to you) [FLANGST?] [ONESHOT]

-> Go for the throat: The seal that marked you had made it all too late for him to remedy. Bleeding eyes, growing fangs, it’s just another demon to vanquish just like he’s done for centuries. What makes it different was it was sealed in you. (Inspired from Melanie Martinez’s song uhu) [ANGST] [ONESHOT]

Zhongli - “Mortals are capable creatures that evolve and adapt for means of survival, but they advance in ways that changes the world around them. This retirement, may be harder to me than it is to them.”

 -> “In human history, there’s a certain noble and powerful connotation to rulers who braid their hair.” Convince to braid his hair using some historical braid trivia; that long hair behind his back should not be ignored for any longer. [PURE FLUFF] [DRABBLE]

-> History has its eyes on you: A traveling theatre hailing from the land of entertainment finds its way to Liyue for their last caravan. A certain Geo Vision man seems to resonate with your newest script: fighting and protecting your land, building up its nation, before being forced to let go of it. He resonates maybe a little too much. (Musical!Reader with heavy references to Hamilton hehe) [FLUFF] [ONESHOT]

Venti - "Can you hear the symphonies of the wind as it sings to you? That's me, guiding you and protecting you! Whenever you hear it, know that you're safe and sound under my protection!"

-> the one the bard once loved: like actual bard, you are the archer or smth, loved by Venti and Barbatos. Yandere!Barbatos undertones, very unhealthy relationship. This hurts the kokoro. [PURE ANGST] [ONESHOT]

-> The Caravan: (related to the Zhongli and Musical!Reader up there) Your caravan stops at Mondstadt for a whole week before it reaches its final destination. This new fanfare pulled in a peculiar bard who now wants to tag along for the fun of it. "I have no more responsibilities in this free land!" Just what kind of responsibilities does a broke bard have in the first place? [FLUFF] [ONESHOT/HEADCANON]

Diluc - "You look weary, and you still managed to pull yourself here. Here, a fresh and cold glass, on the house. A relieved smile should be enough payment."

-> Abandoned by The Altar: A timeline oriented story focused on your once perfect childhood relationship as Diluc's bride to be, soon becoming estranged after the death of his father and his neglect. You only wish now that he looks at you the same way he did when you heard you were supposed to be together forever when you were young. [FLANFF] (The ending gets better pls; Inspired by Still Into You - Paramore) [ONESHOT]

-> There are No Laws Against Homelessness in Mondstadt: My favorite title out of all of this ahahhaa- who says adventurers can't be broke? You're the living embodiment of that. (Good boi Diluc with a broke ass reader) [FLUFF] (Warning: homelessness) [ONESHOT]

Scaramouche - "Let's go already, the sun is setting and we're nowhere near our destination. If you wanted to linger just to spend more time with me, I would have indulged you behind closed doors anyways."

-> Scaramouche Finally Does the Fandango: Have you ever wondered how Scaramouche is like working with other people? His first assignment was to accompany you in your main region and he sees you in your natural habitat, entranced. [I dunno how to tag this, NORMAL?] [ONESHOT/SHORT]

-> Skincare bitch, how I headcanon Scaramouche as someone actually conscious and always tending to their skin. Look at that smooth skin, cute cheeks, let me pinch, eyeliner glory— In which case, that hat has more purpose than being a frisbee. (May or may not include reader. (based from a reblog convo with chels-void) [GOOD VIBES] [HEADCANONS]

-> Once Supreme: Before Scaramouche, there was someone else higher than him. Before Balladeer there was just a young man fighting for his beliefs and her Majesty. Before Mondstadt, his smile wasn't just for deception. "Someday, someone would take advantage of that smile, Scaramouche. It's not appropriate in this work environment." The day you break a man. (Harbinger!Reader again, and lots of HCs for Scaramouche, same format as Antinomy) [I also do not know how to call this, eventual ANGST] [ONESHOT]

Kaeya - "What are you doing out here in the dead of night? Citizens like you should be cozied up in bed and leaving the patrols to us Knights. Come, I'll accompany you back home."

-> Honey Whiskey: A mysterious band of dancers from Sumeru visits Mondstadt and its taverns to offer a night of alluring dances. What was supposed to be a night of drinking for Kaeya and his troops ended up becoming a tipsy surprise mission when the main dancer steps down from the stage— and ignores him?! How scandalous! (Slightly suggestive themes/You're a bad guy) [COOL?] [ONESHOT] [slightly inspired by song with the same name]

General:

-> A Musical!Reader but with a scenario with every other character, most probably headcanons master post.

-> Genshin Food prompts: From that one post, I ended up making a whole storyline of oneshots related to their special dishes. Oneshots connected to a bigger picture. By impulse you've ended up leaving your normal life behind to pursue your cooking career, starting from Mondstadt, to learn all the cuisines to establish the first ever international restaurant. With the implications of magic and peculiar customers, your simple dream turns into a harder goal. [GOOD SHIT] [SERIES] [CANON-COMPLIANT]

-> God of Time!Reader that hails from Fontaine. Do you wish to know more about their origins and their purpose in this world? [CANON-COMPLIANT] [HEADCANONS] (General since it deals with all the characters/interactions)

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

Tagslist-for-my-thirsty-homies:

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

I feel like Harry doesn’t get enough love and attention in the fandom 🥲 and since it is The Summer of Harry, could we get a small fic or headcanons about being best friends with Harry and getting into shenanigans with him?

xoxo

Omg yesss I love Harry, I agree he does not get enough love!!!

Here’s my unsolicited preamble: I truly adore him. In all honesty he’s the character I relate to most, personality wise. SO I had to do both a few headcanon’s and then a short lil fic that played those out. Not sure if this was exactly what you had in mind but this is what I picture being besties with Welsh would be like :) (p.s. sorry for any typos, I didn't do a lot of re-reading and I'm dyslexic sooo free pass)

- I feel like Welsh would be a very affectionate and physical love kind of friend because he seems really sure in his body language and physical space.

- He would be the kind of bestie you could cuddle with without any sort of apprehension over it being anything more than friendship.

- Welsh is the kind of friend that will lead you straight into trouble but charm your guys’ way right out of it.

- Welsh is the kind of friend to give really good advice but never the kind to pressure you or judge you if you don’t take his advice.

- At the same time he’s a bit of a hot mess himself but in such a confident, surly way that keeps him from becoming a basket case. Which means he’s not an exhausting friend to have. He gives energy to his friends.

There was a good chance that those who didn’t know you and Harry well would assume you had a flirtationship. Everyone knew about Kitty, especially after three months of having Harry as an Easy Company officer. So a judgmental look from an onlooking stranger wasn’t uncommon. But those who knew you well knew things could not be more platonic between you two. You and Harry had bonded from the beginning; like long-lost twins. You filled in each other’s gaps. You met each other note for note in every situation, from teasing Winters to sobering conversations about core values. Most dangerously, you fed off of each other’s mischief (much to Winters’ chagrin). That night wasn’t much different from the many you shared with Harry. The difference was that it was preceded by a particularly terrible day.

You were exhausted by the day's work. You had had the privilege of being singled out by Sobel who had berated you at length without real cause. You had very little energy to do anything except take a shower and go to bed. But it was a Friday, and Harry wasn’t about to let you get away with that.

“Good evening!” Harry skipped through the doorway of your barrack. He was cleaned up and dressed neatly in his khaki uniform.

“Hi Harry,” you said unenthusiastically from where you were stretched out.

“What’s up, cookie?” he kicked the side of your cot, trying to elicit a jolt of action from you.

“Crappy day.”

“Well come out and we’ll at least make sure it ends well.”

“Not in the mood.”

“Aw come on,” Harry whined, “I want to go have fun.”

“I’m in a bad mood, Harry,” you protested.

“Who put the bee in your bonnet?” he sat down beside you.

You wriggled slightly out of the way to make room for him. “Sobel.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “the guy’s a yuck, don’t let him ruin your night.

“Too late.” You knew you were just being a brat at this point. But Harry knew he was going to win you over.

“Come on, you’re getting up and we’re gonna have a great night. Dick’s coming out for an hour or so, you can’t miss that.”

“Is he drinking?” you sat up in shock.

Harry huffed, “pff, no, of course not. Still, it’ll be good to chat with him. Come on, get up.”

The pub was full of soldiers from all of the Airborne companies. Harry was leading you to the bar when you spotted him, Sobel.

“The hell is he doing here?” You asked.

Harry followed your eye line. “Gross,” he muttered, “come on.” He pushed forward.

“Harry,” you said reluctantly.

“Trust me,” he grinned mischievously. You recognised that glint in his eye and you couldn’t help but smile in excitement.

“Captain,” Harry addressed Sobel formally as he approached. The haughty officer barely acknowledged them with a nod but Harry began to spin his web.

“So rowdy in here,” he leaned on the bar conspiratorially, “so much reckless drinking.” He paused to make sure you were in on the conversation. “We were just discussing how drinking should only be done in fine taste, with quality liquor.” Sobel seemed to be listening despite his silence.

“We were,” you jumped in, “the ability to appreciate quality is a mark of superiority.” You matched Harry’s buttery tone, careful not to appear too direct with Sobel.

“That’s why Colonel Sink has all those beautifully decanted scotches in his office! Have you seen those?” Harry directed to you, across Sobel.

“Beautiful!” you enthused.

You two let those words hang there. Sobel had obviously taken in your words, you wanted them to settle.

“Anyways,” Harry said cheerfully, “can I buy you a drink, Captain?”

“Oh uh-,” Sobel stumbled, “I uh-,”

“I’m gonna get your strongest scotch, neat please,” Harry grinned charmingly at the bartender. Then he turned to Sobel, “should I make that two?” There was a challenging look in your friend's eye. You suppressed a grin but relished in the situation.

“Sure,” Sobel said curtly, then as an afterthought he turned to you, “are you getting one?” Had it been anyone else it would’ve considered him thoughtful.

“Oh no,” you said you said nonchalantly, “can’t stand the stuff. It’s wicked strong.” You swelled with sadistic delight as you watched Sobel’s eyes widen in fear.

“Cheers!” Harry handed the officer the dark brown drink with a mischievous smile.

To Sobel’s credit, he did take a generous sip of the liquor with only the slightest of flinches.

The two of you posted up at a table with Winters, Nixon, and a few of the other officers who had distanced themselves from the enlisted men. You sat chatting and drinking and generally having a good time. After a drink or two, you spotted Joe Liebgott in the crowd. He smiled over his drink at you and you couldn’t help but smile coyly back. He always seemed to catch your eye on nights out. Though nothing ever came from it you enjoyed the attention from the handsome man.

Welsh caught the exchange between you and Joe. “That boy is trouble.”

“What? I thought you liked Joe!”

“I do, great soldier.”

“But trouble?” you asked jokingly.

“Yeah, part of why I like him. Why don’t you go for someone sweet?” Harry scanned the crowd, “like Carwood?”

“Lipton’s married, Harry.”

“Oh right, Shifty then!”

You sighed, “you know I adore Shifty but..”

“You’re right, he’s too sweet for you. Better stick with, Joe.”

You and Harry stared at each other until you both broke into laughs.

“Thanks for the romantic advice,” you teased.

“Anytime,” Harry laughed into his drink.

The night progressed. Winters left early and eventually, Nixon retired as well. Soon enough, you and Harry were left alone at a table playing tiddlywinks with coins. Between the alcohol and the company, you were feeling good. The pains of the day had melted away.

Smokey Gordon, with the assistance of George Luz, began to lead the crowd of soldiers in song. It was a darkly humoured Irish ballad that Harry seemed to know well. From beside you at your table he belted out the words off-pitch, a cigarette burning away between his fingers, momentarily forgotten.

“You’re shit!” you laughed over the music, “you’re a terrible singer!”

Harry paused quickly to say, “shut up, I’m singing,” before launching his voice back into the chorus.

You laughed as the Easy Company men wrapped up their song in cheers. You smiled to yourself, grateful to be a part of such a great group of men.

You were feeling intoxicated late into the evening but nowhere near as intoxicated as Harry. He had had a fair amount to drink but luckily he held his alcohol well. He wasn’t a sloppy, sick or angry drunk. The alcohol only exacerbated his most questionable traits; characteristics you had grown to appreciate.

“You hungry?” you asked him as he polished off another beer.

“I can always eat,” he responded.

“Do you think they’ll serve us something here?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, “I bet they’ve closed the kitchen. Probably hours ago!”

You eyed the bar. Things had died down slightly. Many people had gone home and the patrons who hadn’t were losing their energy. Conversational groups furnished with half drunk pints peppered the pub. “I bet we can make them serve us something. Surely something!” you said.

Harry looked deep in thought before saying, “you know, you’re right.”

“What’s the harm in asking?” you said with an alcohol-induced sense of confidence.

“You’re right! Let’s go!” Harry pulled you up from the table and the two of you made for the bar.

Harry leaned across the wood counter. “Can we get anything to eat? One of those pies maybe?” he asked the bartender.

“Ooh or eggs and bacon!” You interject. The thought of breakfast made your stomach rumble.

“Oh yeah, that sounds really good! Good call,” Harry turned his attention back to the exasperated bartender, “can we can some eggs and bacon please?”

“You think I got bacon?” The bartender asked dryly. “It’s midnight…during a war,” he explained like he was talking to idiots, which he kind of was.

“Mm good point,” you were quickly defeated in your inebriated state.

“Ah come on, Fred,” Harry said, “I know you have food! Please, for one of your most loyal patrons.”

It was true, Harry was a loyal customer. He had quickly become a regular at this pub. You had dragged him off a barstool more than a few times when he was meant to be elsewhere.

The bartender Fred eyed the grinning, gap-toothed man. “Fine, but you gotta eat it in the back. I don’t want everyone seeing I’m serving food or they’ll all want some.”

“Ah thank you Fred!” You thanked him exuberantly. He shot you both a stern look as you scrambled around the bar.

You two of you waited patiently perched upon apple crates in the back kitchen as Fred fried you up a couple of eggs and slices of ham. It wasn’t exactly bacon but it hit the spot. You had never tasted anything so good in your life.

“I could eat this for the rest of my life,” Harry said through a mouthful of food.

“Mm s’good,” you responded with equal impropriety. You swallowed, “thanks for forcing me out Harry.”

“Aw,” Harry wrapped an arm around your neck and gave you a sloppy kiss on the forehead, “anytime, cookie.”

[httpbread]

I’m back with another ask: May I have a headcanon for Teru with an s/o who at first sees him as just a normal guy who gets cranky - in their perspective- when he doesn’t get enough sleep (he exorcists supernaturals every night according to the manga), so they prepare healthy meals for him, but Teru falls for them? Thank you so much! :)

Pairing: Teru x reader

unless docs is lying to me i think this is the 20th request i’ve done :00

---

- Their first meeting was not the best.

- The resident school prince was not feeling so princely at all that day

- after a long night of exorcising spirits on top of the training he had already done, two hours of homework, three hours of paperwork for the student council, and dinner (only if you squinted)

- he was feeling drained, to say the least

- so after a full day of maintaining his Prince Charming role

- and he came into the student council

- he was expecting to relax

- not the new transfer student, who he had forgotten he’d agreed to show around the council at least two weeks ago

- (Y/n) (L/n)

- and they refused to back down or reschedule

- so, yes, he was a little curt while walking them around. Showing them the basis of what they did.

- he almost wanted to shove them onto Akane and go take a nap. And their insistent questions weren’t helping his migraine either.

- they seemed to want to know about every little thing and one question always turned into ten more

- "Do you ever shut up?"

- despite his frustrations and mountain of issues

- he did NOT mean to say that out loud.

- he honestly expected them to cry. He almost wanted to cry. Maybe his own need for tears was mostly exhaustion but he did feel horrible the instant he said it.

- until he hears a weird crinkly noise

- they’re holding out a juice box to him

- "Let’s take a break."

- Teru almost faints on the spot at the words.

- the poor boy can't even remember the last time he heard the word break

- after his snapping incident, they sat on the waiting couch. He drank the juice box. Talked a little. Then continued on with the tour.

- ...

- well, that’s what he wants to say he did

- no, what really happened was:

- he drank the juice box,,

- and then immediately passed out

- however, when Akane woke him up three hours later, at the ripe time of 5 pm,,,

- he was surprised to find himself laying quite comfortably on the couch, now with a pillow and a blanket.

- "You should’ve been nicer to (L/n)-senpai. They would’ve been great to work with."

- Akane gestures to the president's desk, "Look at all the work they did. They’ve probably done more than we have in two weeks."

- just like Akane said

- his desk was suddenly a delight to look at!

- everything put in the right place, places Teru didn’t even know they belonged in

- they even organized the once towering stack of paperwork he had, listed with sticky notes by due date, listing what could wait until another day, what was what, what was most important...

- not to mention the magic they’d dusted the rest of the student council room with

- it was heaven

- The next day Teru made it his mission to hunt the transfer down.

- which was surprisingly easy.

- turns out they had almost every class together.

- even more surprisingly,

- they actually agreed to becoming his assistant, on the student council.

- at first, they don’t talk too much. Strictly business.

- Plus (L/n) always looks so focused when they get busy. He never wants to interrupt them.

- he quickly finds himself very envious of them.

- Teru usually wasn’t one for jealousy but they made things look so easy.

- from ordering their schedule, his schedule, doing their homework, filing the mountains of paperwork, you name it

- he was sure anything he threw at them they could handle with ease, they never even seemed to trip up.

- And they always look so alive despite their calm exterior. They never look stressed or agitated. Tired. They do so much and they always wear such a peaceful look.

- "Minamoto-san, I can take care of the rest of this. Why don’t you go take a nap?"

- the first time he heard them say this he thought he was going to kneel over and die any second

- why. why would they offer that

- was he dying

- why?

- "Oh- uhm. That’s not-"

- "I’m not asking, Minamoto-san."

- he found that he didn’t need to be asked Anyways. Teru was snoozing on the wait couch almost seconds later.

- he wouldn’t say it’s exactly a habit...

- but when (L/n) smiles at him and tells him to go rest...

- he just can’t say no...

- especially when it’s ALWAYS the best sleep he gets.

- sleeping during club time is a new bad habit he never thought he’d have but one he just can’t kick under the watchful eyes of (L/n)

- the longer (Y/n) works under Teru the more they learn his routines

- sarcastic? Dehydrated.

- snappy? Hungry.

- glaring? Nap time.

- it was almost like managing a two year old, except the two year old is very tall. very handsome. And also very much their boss

- (Y/n) would never tell him, they found the situation quite humorous

- everyone always fanned over the older minamoto like he was royalty. A god among mortals.

- but one look and they could read that boy like a book.

- lack of sleep (probably from too much work)

- too much piled on his plate (poor management skills)

- frequent skipping of meals (also poor management skills)

- (Y/n) has never heard of a prince who struggled so much to take care of himself

- though, they could admit he was handsome like a prince. And quite nice when he was feeling better

- normally (Y/n) was harsher with the advice they gave their friends on getting their shit together

- but...

- they’d been rather soft on Minamoto ever since they met him.

- they weren’t sure why, but something about him tugged on their heart strings.

- plus...

- it was kind of fun taking care of someone else for once

- so, it was not very long before (Y/n) started bringing him lunch

- it was around the same time they found out Teru worked in the student council room during his lunch

- they put a stop to this real quick

- working? During lunch?

- that was like the biggest no no ever!

- and Minamoto couldn’t seem to quite grasp this when they tried to explain

- so they instead turned to distracting the president with food

- they had to look into more healthy lunches to make up for the boy. Which was... interesting

- all they knew when they first started cooking for him was that he needed protein for energy...

- the more they looked into the matter, the more it made them realize just how much effort they were putting into this

- which embarrassed them

- it was nowhere near enough to stop them though

- the first lunch they gave him was scarfed down in less than five minutes (a massive boost to their ego, not that they’d ever say that)

- Teru has had a lot of cooking. And logically... he knows Kou’s good is better than (Y/n)’s

- ...

- but there’s just something about their food that he enjoys more than anything

- their homemade lunches become his new favorite pick me up

- it didn’t matter what kind of thoughts were tangling in his head. the second he saw (L/n) holding a new wrapped bento was the same second he was the happiest man on earth.

- and between the lunches, the help in delegating his work and the council, the naps...

- Teru is feeling better than ever!

- he feels refreshed and he’s happy to admit (Y/n) has helped him so much!

- "Don’t rub it in," Akane huffs, "Some of us are still single, president."

- those were the words that made him realize

- realize that (l/n) was not just an assistant to him

- or a friend

- because Akane was what a friend was like

- a jerk. rude to him. vaguely tolerable sometimes.

- that’s what he thought of the boy

- but (L/n)

- (L/n) was an angel. they were cute. kind. amazing. he wanted them by his side at all times.

- that’s what he thought of them.

- ...

- which he quickly realized was not very platonic

- but what akane said to him haunts him now

- Teru was very single

- but was (L/n)...?

- ...

- he tries to bring the question up subtly during one of their lunches together in the council room

- "Boyfriend...?"

- they smile

- "What? Are you tired of my constant doting?"

- NO

- Teru wasn’t sure he could go back to functioning the way he did before they came along

- "I guess I could find another guy to baby."

- they meet his eyes, a teasing glint in theirs

- "If that’s what you really want."

- baby?

- no, he wouldn’t say they were babying him...

- ...

- ok maybe a little

- but

- "Now that you mention it..."

- "I guess I do finally have the space in my schedule for a boyfriend."

- knowing (L/n), even if they didn’t have the time, they could easily make space in their schedule for anything...

- "Depends.”

- they don’t look too pleased with this answer, but don’t mention it

- He leans forward to brush their hair out of their face, smiling

- "Do you think I have room in my schedule for you?"

- they smile back at him

- then swat his hand away

- "no. you don’t have room for anything."

- "Sure I do. I have the perfect place for you.”

- he opens his arms up to them, despite the heat fighting to cloud his face

- ...

- 5 minutes later their council room lunch time turned into council room nap time (snuggling included), something that would become a very common occurrence in their newfound relationship

[yandere-romanticaa]

❝ ready or not... ❞

The eerie silence that filled the room only added more stress and worry to (y/n) as Leona laid on top of her. He came back from class not too long ago and as usual, he wanted to cuddle her. It sort of became like a routine for Leona. He never said much during these "cuddle sessions" aside from the occasional grumble or a delightful purr that resulted when (y/n) patted his head.

Looking around, (y/n) was pleased to see that pretty much the entire dorm was empty and Leona was pretty much asleep. She had been plotting for some time now and freedom was so close... She was 100% sure that Leona would not go after her because A. He's asleep and B. He's lazy. In this situation though that couldn't have been more perfect for the (h/c)ette. Leona had made it very clear in the past that he had better things to do with his precious time and her attempt was sure to succeed! There was just one issue though. He was right on top of her and she had no idea how she could move him without disturbing him too much. Dread came over her as her heart pounded in her chest, the fear crawling up her spine in an alarming rate. A light sheen of sweat covered her forehead as she started to see the holes in her brilliant plan. Her eyes were glued to the ceiling as she failed to notice Leona stirring in his sleep. His ear twiched as he picked up (y/n)'s heavy breathing and her heartbeat.

Great.

He was still groggy from his nap and even though he didn't show it, Leona is a rather intelligent young man. And he knew damn well what (y/n) was planning and he wasn't having it. Just before he could get up on his feet and call (y/n) a brat, an idea poped in to his head. A smirk found its way on his face as he licked his lower lip in anticipation, all the while avoiding (y/n)'s gaze. She knew that he was awake now as his hands gently traced patterns on her back, as if quietly telling her to just shut up already. She did as much, but soon enough Leona broke the thick silence by speaking:

"Hey (y/n), what do you say we play a little game, hm~?"

She failed to notice the predatory undertone in his velvety voice as he masked it with a playful facade. The only thing that was on her confused mind what the thought of sweet, sweet freedom. She was willing to do anything to be free once more... Her (e/c) eyes were filled with both hope and dread, a combination that Leona couldn't help but to find both amusing and downright adorable.

Sweet, innocent (y/n) had no idea what she was stepping in to.

Salty tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she gulped, fully prepared for any challenges that Leona had to throw at her. It was now or never, there was no going back. A strange feeling of sudden confidence grew inside of her as a ghost of a smile was on her delicate face, a smile that did not go unnoticed by the lion. He purred as he moved himself away from (y/n), giving her some much needed space. Crossing both his arms and legs, Leona made himself  comfortable on the king sized bed, his emerald gaze sizing (y/n) up. A long sigh escaped her bruised lips as (y/n) felt her eyes drop to the ground, her fists clenched tightly. She rose up from the bed, her back still turned to Leona.

"What kind of game did you have in mind?"

Her voice was hoarse due to not speaking for so long but she did not care anymore. She turned her head and her (e/c) gaze met Leona's green one. His face showed no emotion and it was difficult to read him. She was puzzled sure, but her sense of determination did not waver. 

"Since you are so keen to escape, you might as have fun while doing so.Therefore I suggest we play a nice, friendly game of tag. If you win I will never bother you again and you will regain your freedom... But if I win, you will be my little pet until the end of your days. What do you say~?"

Oh dear... His offer seemed to be too good to be true. To think that he was willing to let her go just like that... Only if she were to win his game though. Not having any other choice she nods quickly, accepting Leona's challenge. Still resting on the bed, Leona raises his hand and points at the door. 

"I am giving you a head start. I would use it if I were you."

She did not even bother to hear him out as she immediately ran out of the room, slamming the large door in the process. Still sitting on the bed, Leona played with his long locks of hair. He rolled his eyes and groaned in annoyance as he buried his face in one of the soft pillows.

"Damn, what a pain..."

(y/n)'s footsteps echoed in the hallways as she ran like never before. Adrenaline filled her veins as she kept chanting in her head  "Keep running!". Never once did she stop and allow herself to breathe, the breathe in the fresh, clean air. She could savor it later though because she knew if she stopped that she would be done for. She ran and ran, so much so that she was starting to taste the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. She started coughing and while doing so she tripped on her own feet. She fell down face first on the floor and grumbled in both pain and annoyance. Her nose hurt and even started to bleed a little as she gently touched it, slightly winching at the sharp pain. Her breathing was ragged and uneven and her heart felt like it was going to burst at any rate. She took in her surroundings carefully and only then did she notice just how peaceful everything was.She swore that if someone dropped a simple pin that it could be heard. 

...

Nothing.

Nothing was happening, no one was around. Her captor was nowhere to be seen and she was sure that if she was close that she could at least hear him.  (y/n) allowed herself to relax for a moment, her hope finally returning back to her. She carefully composed herself and got off the ground, dusting herself off in the process. Looking in front of her she finally saw her gateway to freedom. She was so close, that damned door was just out of hands reach. She couldn't help but to smile, relief washing over her like gentle rainfall. She made her way towards the large door and took a moment to admire the intricate patterns on it. Just as about she was going to reach for one of the handles, she heard it.

A roar, his roar.

She could barely turn around as two strong arms pinned her to the ground, the familiar smell of his cologne invaded her nostrils like a raging wildfire. She was panicking, how the Hell did he get to her!? She was alone mere seconds ago!! He just appeared out of thin air! (y/n) screamed bloody murder as Leona bared his teeth, a long but dangerous smirk on his face. Only then did (y/n) realize just how strong Leona was compared to her. He chuckled darkly, his deep voice filling her ears far too quickly. He lowered his down to her ear, never once breaking eye contact with her. (y/n) started to hyperventilate and cry uncontrollably. Leona rubbed the tears off her face gently, too gently. It only caused her to panic even more as he finally spoke up.

"Did you really think that I would let you get away, just like that? Babe, how weak do you think I am, huh?" 

She didn't dare to answer as she only turned her head to the opposite side. She could bare the intensity of Leona's stare but alas he would not grand her the pleasure of looking away. Leona forcefully turned her chin back, his claws lightly digging in to (y/n)'s soft skin. A hint of blood was on his claws as he licked it clean, enjoying the sweet taste.

"Look me in the eye when I talk, babe. You really are a pain sometimes, you know that right? You forced me to hunt you down like this but I would be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy it. It's usually the lionesses who do the hunting though, not us guys... Still, I captured my prey fair and square, wouldn't you agree~?"

She wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and wake up, to just wake up from this nightmare. She no longer had the strength fight Leona back and she felt as though she had lost the ability to speak. All of that hope and determination vanished in an instant, just like that.

The hunter has successfully captured his sweet prey.

"No matter where you go (y/n) I will always be near, Remember that."

♡♡♡

Based of the yandere! Leona headcanons on @lovecore-md 's blog. Loved the headcanons so I wanted to write a little scenario! I hope you don't mind~ And the image I used belongs to @julie-fandom-artblog!

[soulmate-game]

I might make this a tumblr only mini-series of connected oneshots, and I might or might not put them up on AO3 when they are all done. We’ll see how I feel.

I know I submitted this AU to Multifandomscribette, but this is my take on the prompts I gave them. This is not the same AU, and I am not using their headcanons. Just the same basic premise of Marinette being Stephen Strange’s biological daughter.

You know Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, but this story is about

Lady Strange, the Grand Guardian.

What is with this family and alliteration?!

—*—*—*—*—*

Stephen Strange was a narcissistic, emotionally constipated bastard. But he was rich, well known, and handsome, which counted for a lot when he decided he needed some time to relax, unwind, maybe with another human.

And when Sabine Cheng realized what had happened, that night she had catered for a high society medical conference gala in the States, she vowed to never drink again.

She also vowed to never tell Strange about the child growing in her womb. The only person she ever told about her child’s true origin was Tom Dupain, the man she started dating a month after her chance encounter with Doctor Stephen Strange. Nine months after that, when Marinette was almost a month old, she would propose to Tom in blatant disregard of tradition. She would be waiting for years if she wanted Tom to get up the courage to ask her, and even though it hadn’t been a full year yet Sabine knew what she wanted. Seeing the gentle way Tom held her daughter, their daughter, seeing the way he looked at the little baby as if she hung the stars for him, well that only solidified the little Chinese woman’s love for the french man.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng would not know about her true father’s origin until she was twelve, when a science lecture at school had her asking Sabine who had blue eyes in each of their blood lines.

When Sabine hesitated, Marinette knew instantly that something was wrong. Sabine never hesitated. She was a whirlwind of decisiveness, always knowing what to say and how to act. Hesitation wasn’t a part of her.

Sabine told her everything. How her biological father was someone she only met once, how he was a successful surgeon who had won many medical awards. How he didn’t know she existed.

Of course, Marinette was immediately obsessed. Hurt by her mother’s secrecy, she turned her feelings of betrayal into curiosity and researched everything that there was to research about Stephen Strange. Apparently blue eyes ran on his side of the family. His own were more icy than hers, closer to a blue-gray, but familiar all the same. Both his parents were already dead though, so there went her hope of having another set of grandparents.

Marinette even went so far as to read the research papers he had written, and did follow-up research until she understood as much of it as she could. It helped that Professor Mendeleiev was more than willing to sit down and go over the medical papers with her so they could try to understand it all together.

One day, while Marinette was sewing a new dress, she paused with her needle in the air and stared at her fingers. After that day, she took much more pride than before in how steady her hands were. Her father was a surgeon, it must have been a biological trait. She clung onto anything that connected her to the oh-so mysterious Stephen Strange.

And then came Marinette’s thirteenth birthday. The same day that Stephen Strange was in a car accident and deemed in critical condition.

If Marinette kept an app for American news sources on her phone and set them to alert her if the name of her biological father was mentioned in any reports? Well, her parents didn’t need to know.

She didn’t tell her parents about the reason she was so morose for the rest of the day. She didn’t tell anyone.

She cried herself to sleep when Doctor Stephen Strange was declared to have irreversible nerve damage in his hands, and again when he went missing on a mysterious “vacation” that no media sites seemed to have any information on. She didn’t know why she felt so much connection and pain for someone she had never met, but she couldn’t help it. She would keep researching, keeping her eyes out for any mention of the man online without any luck.

That is, until Master Fu and the Miraculous entered her life. Slowly, she began to neglect her obsession with her biological father. Her passing crush on Adrien Agreste even faded away, never having much traction to begin with because of her overlying concern for the father that didn’t even know he had a daughter.

When Marinette was fourteen, the city of Paris was flooded and she had to swim through the quickly bloating bodies of the dead in order to defeat an Akuma. She reversed the damage and everyone who died was resurrected with no memory of their demise, but Marinette would never forget. All it took was a glimpse of the wrong face on the streets and she would be overcome with a panic attack, with the sight of glassy eyes and blue faces.

That was when Hawkmoth’s attacks picked up in intensity. When people began to die during Akuma attacks more frequently. When Marinette stopped sleeping in quite so much.

Her obsession over her father was a mere footnote by then, something she would idly look into on her ever increasingly rare free time with no success.

When Marinette was fifteen years, six months, two weeks, and two days old, Master Fu died. Marinette assumed the alias of Lady Strange, alongside her identity of Ladybug, so that the Miraculous wielders could contact her and know she was the new Guardian without knowing that she was also their leader in the field.

On the one year anniversary of Lady Strange being the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous, there was a worldwide magical disturbance.

Unlike Fu, Marinette did not limit herself to reacting to Miraculous problems.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Stephen glided back down from the equivalent of thousands of years bargaining and dying with Dormammu, he expected Hong Kong to be in a mess. It had been, from what he remembered of the scene before he created the time loop.

But it wasn’t. Instead, the streets looked as if no damage at all had been created. Kaecilius and his remaining zealots were tied up, quite literally, in what looked like string and hung upside down from a lamp post. Sitting down on the curb of the sidewalk and giving him a dangerously sharp glare was a young woman in a spotted costume, a mask over her face. When Strange realized he could not get any of her features to stick in his memory, he realized what she was.

Another magic user, but different from a Sorcerer. Her Neptune blue eyes bore into him with an intensity he was wholly unprepared for, but had no problem baring. After dying almost a million times, a guy tends to grow a backbone of vibranium.

Wong and Mordo stood on either side of the girl, both at a respectful distance. Wong had this wide-eyed look on his face, so much more expressive than usual that it caught the new Sorcerer Supreme off guard. Wong looked… awed?

Mordo, on the other hand, was regarding the girl with a look of barely disguised disdain and distrust. That was in character though, so Stephen didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, he walked over even as his bargain with Dormammu kicked in and Kaecilius’s cult was banished to the Dark Dimension.

“You reversed the damage, then?” He asked without beating around the bush, glancing down briefly to assure that the Eye was, indeed, still on him. It was. The girl stood up, her eyes continuing to blaze with an unknown soup of emotion.

“I did,” she confirmed easily. It wasn’t until he stopped only a few feet away from her that the sorcerer noticed how small she was. The only detail his mind allowed to stick with him besides that fact was that she also looked young. Too young to have to deal with a mess like this. “You might not know of me. The Temple Of Guardians made a deal centuries ago that all records of their existence and our own magic be removed from any Sorcerer sanctums.”

“The temple that appeared in Tibet out of nowhere more than a year ago?” Strange asked, eyebrow raised. “I remember the Ancient One briefly mentioning how much of a hassle it was to hide their reappearance and teleport the temple’s location somewhere new. I was under the impression that all the members of that temple have been in a pocket dimension separate from this reality for almost two hundred years.”

“They have,” the girl confirmed with a nod. “But before that, one of the Guardians escaped that fate. He became the Grand Guardian, and was my teacher until he passed last year. He named me the new Grand Guardian to take his place,” she turned, looking at something that Stephen couldn’t see. “I have illusions keeping us from being seen by the crowd, but it would be better if we took this inside the sanctum,” she said, nodding her head to the Hong Kong Sanctum’s door behind them. Strange simply nodded, more than willing to distract himself from his immeasurably long torture by indulging his curiosity. If this girl showed up and went out of her way to repair the damage the sorcerers and Kaecilius caused, then he wanted to know why.

“Wait,” Mordo barked, walking up to have a heated discussion with Strange that ended in the former storming off. Stephen knew he should be concerned about his former friend’s desertion, but he couldn’t muster up the energy for it yet. Focusing on the mysterious girl in a ladybug suit was an easier topic for his exhausted mind to latch onto.

When they got inside, the Sorcerer Supreme saw that she had even reversed the damage in the building. He saw a few scattered disciples rubbing their heads and looking around in confusion from their spots crouched on the floor. Stephen was almost certain he had seen those same people as corpses before.

The ladybug-spotted girl had scarcely removed her gaze from him for even a second, and easily picked up on the older man’s train of thought.

“My powers reversed all the damage I could handle, including physical wounds and death,” she told him. Strange blinked.

“That explains why I thought you all looked odd. Your clothes are spotless and you don’t look like you’ve fought at all,” he directed that comment to Wong, who merely nodded. “But that doesn’t explain how you can do such a thing. I’ve been intensely studying magic and magic theory for the past almost three and a half years, and I haven’t come across any healing spell that can be this effective without the subject of the healing themselves helping to work the power through their body. I know you are not a sorcerer like we are, but what exactly is your magic? Who are the Guardians? And who exactly are you?”

The girl pursed her lips, waiting until the two older men led her to the still-wrecked tea room. Her power hadn’t been able to reach that far when she had to focus on reviving so many people without the regular Cure. That only worked on victims of Miraculous magic, what she used on the Hong Kong streets and the Sorcerers was a more advanced usage of Tikki’s powers that she learned from both Fu and her periodic visits to the Tibet temple.

“The Guardians are a group of monks dedicated to the protection and distribution of Miraculous, which is essentially magic jewelry. I would normally go on to say how this might sound unbelievable, but you have a very similar pendant around your neck right now,” she pointed out once they all sat and Wong conjured some tea for them all. Stephen tensed at her mention of the Eye of Agamotto, his eyes narrowing. Did she..?

“I know what is inside the Eye,” she confirmed his silent thought, her voice soft but firm. “And I don’t care about it in the slightest. It is probably a good reference point for my explanation though. At the birth of the universe—“

“The Stones came into existence, each one representing and controlling a core aspect of reality,” Strange interrupted impatiently. “I am the Sorcerer Supreme, girl, I already know that.”

The young female rolled her eyes, huffing. “If you listened patiently, you would know that the story you were told is only partially true,” she snapped back with false patience. “The Stones were not the only things of great power to be created during the birth of the universe. Kwami, the first living beings to be born, were also created. They are each living representations of abstract concepts, some of which overlap with the powers of the Stones. The first to be born is the Kwami of Creation. She is essentially the goddess of creation itself, the living embodiment of that very term in every way. She is the source of my abilities, she lends me her power as I am her chosen Wielder. It is that same power of creation that allowed me to essentially counteract the destruction that was caused today, by having a condensed form of her power combat the direct source of the destruction and nullify it. The second Kwami to come into existence is her counterpart and the only one equal to her in power, the Kwami of destruction. There are a lot more, including the Kwami of illusion that used her power to keep us from being seen outside. And the Kwami Of time, which allowed me to experience the time loop you created,” the girl’s eyes sharpened again, boring into his own. “I left it after the equivalent of a few weeks, when I realized I couldn’t join you and do anything to help. The Kwami Of Time is about two-thirds as powerful as the Stone by itself, and there are more than double the amount of Kwamis as there are Infinity Stones,” she took a deep breath. “My job as Grand Guardian is protecting all of them, and distributing the jewelry they are bound to as necessary to combat world or reality threatening events.”

Strange remained quiet after that, drinking in the information and doing his best to wrap his head around it. Perhaps this young woman wouldn’t mind telling him more at a later date, especially seeing as they held equivalent ranking in two separate secret magical organizations. His eyes trailed down to a necklace she was wearing.

“How many of these pieces of jewelry—“

“Miraculous,” She corrected. “That is what they are called.”

“... Miraculous, then. How many are you capable of wielding at once, if they are so similar in strength to a Stone?” Wond asked, crossing his arms. The pigtailed girl leaned back from her spot sitting on the ground with them, humming in thought for a second as she decided what to tell them. A glance at Stephen seemed to make up her mind.

“Creation and Destruction hold equal power to a Stone. The Miraculous one stage lower than that hold four-fifths the power of a Stone. The last tier, where the Time Miraculous sits, is two-thirds,” she told them from memory. “I can wield Illusion, which is on the second tier, along with two third-their, and both Creation and Destruction at the same time,” she admitted. “But it saps a lot of my energy and I rather not ever do that again, if you don’t mind. I can wield all of the Miraculous though, since all of the Kwamis like me and are loyal. I can wear any three at a time, and I can switch between them as quickly as I need to.”

Strange really needed some sleep. Five thousand year’s worth of sleep would be nice. He ran a hand over his forehead, wondering who in the world gave this much responsibility and power to a child.

“One last question, and then you can spend the night if you wish, we’ll begin reconstruction of all the Sanctums in the morning,” Stephen spoke, forcing his back to straighten and his eyes to meet the girl’s. “You never answered it, actually. Who are you?”

The girl's mouth twitched in the first semblance of a smile he had seen on her yet.

“When I am in this transformation, I am Ladybug the hero of Paris,” she said with a grin. “Spots off.”

A soft pink glow ran down her body, very similar to the ring of power that sling rings produced to make portals. It left behind an adorable teenage girl with blue-black hair pulled back into pigtails, and striking blue eyes. She was clearly of Asian descent, but there was something else very familiar about the sharpness of her jaw or the stubbornness in her lip.

“My real name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. However, I go by an alias whenever I act as Grand Guardian, so that there is an extra layer of secrecy to protect me and my loved ones. I created that alias based on my biological father, who was never told that I was even conceived,” she said meaningfully, never losing eye contact with Stephen. His eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s pitiful, but what does—“

“My alias is Lady Strange.”

Wong barked out a short laugh before he forcibly covered his mouth, his eyes filled with sadistic amusement as he watched Strange’s reaction. The elder Strange, that is.

The new leader of the Sorcerers opened and closed his mouth like a fish, completely caught off guard. He looked over to Wong.

“Is there a spell to test paternity?” He asked warily. Marinette’s smile fell a bit, but Wong nodded.

A few flashes of orange light and two green ‘99% Match’ results later, Strange let his head fall into his hands.

“Alright, Marinette,” he finally managed to mumble through the slightly trembling appendages still covering his face. “I just spent thousands of years in a time loop with the Lord of Chaos, my back aches, my head aches, I will deal with this in the morning. Or whenever I wake up. Figures my own blood relation would end up in a position of extreme magical power, must be genetic. I still have questions, but sleep comes first. Don’t expect me to be a good parent. I really need sleep.”

Marinette just giggled, standing up and helping her father to his feet with surprising ease. “Just tell me where to go and I can drop you off in your room. No more magic for the rest of the day, you’re clearly spent. And as long as you make an effort, I’ll be fine. But don’t expect to ignore me and I’ll just go away, I have ways to track you to the ends of the universe and across the multiverse and time itself, and I will not hesitate.”

“Yep, she’s your daughter alright.”

“Sleep, Wong. It’s good for the brain.”