#this is just an excuse for the juniper one

[woodcries]

a sampling of my girls and kinsey's dad ig

[moonstruckme]

i was wondering if we could have some roomate!james where him and reader have a disagreement over something and reader feels like james don’t want her there anymore but he comforts her??

Thanks for requesting!

cw: reader feels financially insecure

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“James.” You run your fingers worriedly over the small tears in the doorframe. Look to your roommate in the kitchen. “This is getting out of hand.” 

“What is?” 

“Juniper’s been scratching on the doorframe again.” 

James tsks. “Junie-girl,” he coos, little reprimand to be found in his tone as he looks down at the orange cat currently winding through his ankles, “what are you trying to do to us, huh?” 

You’re not quite so amused. Since James had agreed to look after his friend Lily’s cat while she’s traveling, Juniper has knocked down and broken two of your glasses, scratched up a corner of the couch, and pissed on the carpet in James’ room. You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with the smell of that last one yourself, but you doubt your landlord will be pleased if James can’t get it out by the end of your lease. 

“She’s got to stop,” you say, oddly unsure if you’re trying to reason with James or the cat. “It’s getting really noticeable.” 

“I’m not sure what else to do.” James shrugs. His pan sizzles as he turns over the chicken he’s cooking. “I’ve already moved her favorite scratching post over by the door and sprayed it with the catnip Lily gave me.” 

You cross your arms and sit down on the couch, chewing the inside of your lip. “I’m worried about the security deposit,” you admit. 

“Oh, don’t be.” James waves a hand vaguely in your direction. “My last apartment was way worse than this when I moved out, and they didn’t charge me for anything.” 

His unconcern nettles you. Of course, why would James be upset about a security deposit? He likes to pretend at independence, but you know his parents will always give him funds if he’s in a bind. He doesn’t worry about money the way you do. 

 “Yes, but that was a different landlord, wasn’t it.” There’s a bit of bite to your tone, and you try to soften it. “Maybe someone else could take her for the rest of Lily's trip?” 

James turns, eyebrows lifting as though he’s surprised you’d even ask. “She couldn’t get anyone else to take her in the first place. Mary’s visiting her family, Marl’s allergic, and Sirius would have a cow.” You’re not very inclined to find the last one a spectacular excuse, but you keep your mouth shut. “I agreed to take her,” he says, somewhat firmly, “and I don’t want to go back on that.” 

Heat prickles over your skin. “I just—listen, I can paint over the small things,” you say. “I’m going to try to cover up as many damages as I can, but when your friends come over and break the handle off the microwave” —true story— “or you let their cats tear up the apartment, I don’t know what to do.” 

“I told you I’m going to fix the microwave,” he says without turning around. 

“When, James? That was months ago, and—” 

“And if my friends coming over is a problem for you, it’s not like you didn’t have plenty of opportunities to mention it when we first moved in.” Now James is growing agitated too, his posture stiffening over the stove. “I don’t get where this is coming from. I told you before we moved in that I’d want to have friends here often. When I asked if Junie could stay here, you said it was fine!” 

“I didn’t know it’d be like this!” You feel ridiculous, nearly shouting at him in your mostly lovely apartment. James really isn’t a bad roommate overall; you know you could do far worse. But the small things have begun to add up, and you really cannot afford not to lose your deposit. “I like your friends, and I like Junie, but this is—it’s too much.” 

“You shouldn’t have lived with me if you couldn’t deal with it.” 

James flicks off the stove, turning around to speak to you directly, and you see the moment he sees the glossy sheen in your eyes. His expression pinches. 

“Sweetheart—” 

“No. Do not feel bad for me right now,” you hiss, blinking furiously. “Just because I’m not good at arguing doesn’t mean I’m not still mad.” 

Your anger is rapidly fading, though, as his words reverberate around in your head. You shouldn’t have lived with me. Does he really think that? There are certainly things upon which you don’t see eye-to-eye, but you love living with James. You love spending time with him, sharing things with him, just being around him. The idea that he doesn’t feel the same about you starts spiderweb cracks going through your heart. 

“I’m not good at arguing either,” he says with a hefty sigh. The tension seems to go out of his shoulders with it, and he starts toward you with heavy steps, plopping down on the couch. “Can we just talk, please?” 

You sniffle, working hard to suppress your tears. “Do you think it’d be better if we didn’t live together?” you ask. 

James' eyes widen behind his glasses. His brows hook up in the middle. “No. Why would you say that?” 

You shake your head, not quite looking at him. “I honestly do like your friends. I don’t mind them coming over or helping you do favors for them, and I get that—that sometimes things happen.” You take a shallow breath. Ignore the way James’ hand twitches in his lap. “But you’re right that I didn’t consider all of this when we moved in together. I’m okay with trying to get past it, but if you want me to move out—” 

“Oh my god, no.” James leans forward, trying to catch your gaze. You don’t let him, because just then a small droplet of water squishes out of the corner of your eye and begins a slow trudge down your cheek. “Sweetheart, I don’t want that. I like living with you.” 

Juniper hops up onto the couch, plodding onto your lap and rubbing her side against your stomach affectionately. A wet laugh bubbles out of you, more tears cresting your cheeks as you scratch awkwardly between her ears. 

James makes a sound so soft you think you’ll dream about it. “Can I hug you?” 

You lean toward him in answer. He meets you halfway, needling his arms under yours and folding you into him. You press your face, hot with embarrassment and upset, into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and James’ hand rubs your back in big, sweeping circles, before it stops moving at all, pressing flush to your spine, easing you closer. Junie hops off your lap. Evidently, she considers your comfort taken care of.

“I don’t want you to pity me,” you mumble. When you blink, your lashes leave wetness like the strokes of a paintbrush on his skin. “If you want me to move out, it’s okay.” 

“I don't,” he promises, squeezing you until it almost hurts. “I was being rash. I was only being defensive because you were angry. About very reasonable stuff, if I’m honest. I can pay for your half of the security deposit if we lose it.” 

You shake your head, shifting your body to hug him harder. James meets you a hundred percent. “You don’t need to do that.” 

“I do, it’s fine. It’s my mess. Just don’t talk any more about moving out, okay?” 

You mumble your agreement into his neck. It tickles, and James squeaks, but he doesn’t let you go.

[balletfilmss]

ISN’T SHE SO SWEET?

✸ pairing: percy jackson x daughter of artemis! reader smau

✸ notes: requested by @sunnflowerss-wp !! this prompt was fun & i looooooved incorporating my hunters of artemis girlies <3

…now playing: there she goes — the la’s

percyjacks: “but percy, she’s so scary” are we looking at the same person? 🤨 new moon=yn appreciation day

tagged: yn.ln

view all comments

team.leo: look i said that ONCE bc she shot me and i feared for my life

╰┈➤ percyjacks: excuses excuses, if she shot you then you deserved it

╰┈➤ team.leo: BRO THE GAME WAS OVER???

╰┈➤ percyjacks: LALALAL 👨‍🦯

╰┈➤ annabethc: did…did you just use a blind emoji for not being able to hear?

╰┈➤ percyjacks: omg beth let me live

piedpiper: EVERY day should be yn appreciation day wdym 😒

╰┈➤ percyjacks: yk what piper, you’re so right, my sincerely apologies to everyone

yn.ln: NOOOOO BABE YOU’RE EXPOSING ALL OF MY SECRETSSSSS

╰┈➤ percyjacks: sweetheart…you’re about as secretive as piper is straight

╰┈➤ yn.ln: HEY

lieutenant.thal: new moon = thalia visits day, hand over my girl

╰┈➤ percyjacks: im sorry, WHOSE girl???

╰┈➤ lieutenant.thal: did i stutter?

annabethc: those cookies in the second pic were bomb asf, you’re welcome

╰┈➤ yn.ln: make more beth, im begging 🙏🙏

neeks._: i’ve quite literally seen her try and bite people’s fingers off before

╰┈➤ percyjacks: what’s your point? 😒

╰┈➤ neeks._: oh there isn’t one im js sayin

gracefully.jason: she’s pretty, but where’s my man percy at?

╰┈➤ yn.ln: you mean MY man. i will hunt you down, grace

╰┈➤ percyjacks: she’s so sweet 🥰

…now playing: tek it — cafuné

yn.ln: the peeta to my katniss 🤍🏹

tagged: percyjacks

view all comments

lieutenant.thal: babe it’s not too late to join 🙏🙏

╰┈➤ percyjacks: yn block her PLEASE

╰┈➤ yn.ln: no to both of you 🤍

hazel_lev: YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTIE TOOTIE

╰┈➤ yn.ln: JSJSKSK ILY HAZE <33

percyjacks: idk who this peeta guy is but i think i look pretty damn good 😮‍💨

╰┈➤ yn.ln: look, i love you but don’t disrespect peeta mellark like that

piedpiper: you guys are cut but im gonna throw up next time im within a 3 mile radius omg

╰┈➤ team.leo: this is how we all feel when you and annabeth are all over each other btw!

╰┈➤ annabethc: you’re just mad because you can’t get a girl

╰┈➤ piedpiper: GET HIS ASS BABY 🗣️ (suck it, valdez)

gracefully.jason: idk what tf bread and cats have to do with this post but go yn 🙌

╰┈➤ yn.ln: …

╰┈➤ percyjacks: jason… bro

╰┈➤ yn.ln: i have never sighed so hard at a comment before in my life

reyna.ara: gods, i love it when his face is hidden & all i can see is you, you’re so gorgeous bae <3

╰┈➤ yn.ln: stawwwwwp 🤭

╰┈➤ pecyjacks: yeah. stop.

╰┈➤ reyna.ara: percy. three’s a crowd.

thegoat_: it’s so unfortunate to say but i took two thirds of these pictures

╰┈➤ yn.ln: grover do NOT act like i dont take cutie pics of you & juniper ☹️( reminder: 🏹)

╰┈➤ thegoat_: you are absolutely right, pretend I didn’t say anything (pls but the bow down)

percyjacks: gods, i love you 🩵

╰┈➤ yn.ln: i love you too, seaweed brain 🤎

[arc-misadventures]

BMI Jaune: Willow, Summer, and Kali?

BMI: Jaune II

Juniper: Jaune~!

Jaune: No...

Juniper: What?

Jaune: No. Whatever it is, the answer is: No.

Juniper: But, I never said anything?

Jaune: But, you're going to ask me something, and whatever the ask is about, the answer is: No.

Juniper: ...

Juniper: BMI...

Jaune: AHHHH?! Not this shit again!

Juniper: Your chose for this BMI, are Willow Schnee.

Willow: Hello, Jaune~!

Jaune: Hi...?

Juniper: Kali Belladonna.

Kali: Oh look, it's my favourite human~!

Jaune: Why did you say it like that...?

Juniper: And, lastly we have, Summer Rose.

Summer: Hello, Daddy~!

Jaune: Excuse me, what...?

Juniper: Are you ready to choose who you going to, BMI, Jaune~?

Jaune: The hell are you making me choose between my friend’s mom?!

Juniper: Well, as one woman/mother to another, they told me about their... pitiful sex lives, or lack there of in some cases...

Summer: Juniper?!

Kali: How could you just say that?!

Willow: Considering my ex-husband size or, more accurately the lack there of... Honestly, there isn't much to brag about. There is certainly plenty to complain about however…

Juniper: What? Both of your husbands are dead, so you haven't had much, if any action since they died.

Kalli: Well, that's true...

Summer: It's not like we did it much after I had, Ruby...

Juniper: And, Willow... I'm sorry you had to go through that so often...

Willow: While, I love my children with all my heart, and I wouldn't trade them for the world. I do sometimes find myself wishing I had my son sooner so I didn't have to have... relations as often as I did.

Juniper: See! They have sad sexless lives since they lost their husbands. And, Willow had...

Juniper: She had, Jacques...

Juniper: So, Jaune please, BMI these three woman, and help them ‘fix’ their dry spell?

Jaune: ...

SKW: Please~?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Haaaa...

Jaune: I would Marry, Summer.

Summer: And, why do you want to do that, Husband Dearest~?

Jaune: 'Husband dearest?"

Jaune: Okay? Okay, I say that because you look like you would be a wonderful housewife to come home to.

Summer: Naww~!

Jaune: Plus you look like the woman/wife who would do the, "Hi honey, welcome home! Would like a bath, dinner, or me?" Type of woman, and I...? Ahem... yeah that...

Summer: Oh; Is that so~?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I Would, Breed Kali.

Kali: Why?

Jaune: Well... You have large birthing hips... and I want to give those birthing hips a run for their money...

Kali: Oh, I hope feel like we're going to enjoy that~!

Jaune: Hahaha...

Jaune: I would impregnate, Willow.

Willow: Oh, why would you do that?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I hate you ex-husband with a burning passion. A lot of people think that killing him, or torturing him to death would be the best sort of revenge for what he did. But, I think... taking his woman, and making her mine is a much more tantalizing idea~!

Willow: Y-Yours?

Jaune: I’ll make you my woman! By the time I’m through with you, you’ll fit around me perfectly, no other man will satisfy you, you’ll come begging for more, and I’ll be all to happy to oblige~!

Willow: Y-Y-You promise…?

Jaune: Uhh… Well… T-That is of we… did do it…

Summer: Do you think he could do that?

Kali: Maybe? My daughter did say he’s quite big.

Willow: How big?

Kali: Six when soft, ten when hard, and plenty thick as well~!

Willow: Heavens, say it is so~!

Summer: Are you really that big~?

Jaune: WHAT?! How the hell do you know that?!

Willow: He is~!

Summer: Hmm… Juniper, please be a dear, and leave.

Juniper: Why?

Summer: Because, the sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll have grandchildren~!

Juniper: Good luck, Jaune! Remember to not use a condom!

Jaune: W-W-What?! Wait… hold on!

Kali: Don run, Jaune: The fun is about to begin~!

Willow: Come on, Jaune… it’s time to continue the, Arc bloodline~!

Summer: So what will it be, Jaune; Will you take, Kali, or do you want, Willow, or perhaps me~?

Jaune: Ohhh…?!

Jaune: P-Please be gentle…?

SKW: Fu-fufu~!

Kali: No promises~!

[ms0milk]

pitch in a teapot

sanemi x inn keeper

reader has a business to run and sanemi can't help but watch you do it well, barking orders, teaching firmly, smiling and scurrying around like a fancy little bell. There's something he's been trying to get out of you all afternoon but chores keep stealing you away. cw MDNI, frustrated thunderstorm quickie, reader w vagina + penetration, slight manhandling, desperation and a little bit of sass. 4.1k

thank you so much my darling @neiptune for requesting a little sanemi this @ficsforgaza season! you were so generous and patient waiting for this to come out, I hope you enjoy angel

Six bowls of soup upstairs and an old man somewhere in the bowels of the inn with a limp and half a shoe. Right, okay, send two girls to the garden– no. One to the garden and one to the kitchen. That’s dinner taken care of as long as the scholar with the fat pony– donkey, maybe– doesn’t regurgitate an encore of the rakugo performance that couldn’t have been funny in the first place.

You roll the sleeves of your apron slightly tighter in their tasuki. The cyprus walls of your inn bleed fragrance before summer thunderstorms so you make a mental note too, to order storm doors for the second floor before the clouds go black and blue. Incensed breeze, juniper, wisteria, paper windows, one foot, the next, again, each step down the wooden hallway is a quiet knock. Each summer at home is heavier, heavier, and this year is the flood.

“Oi.”

“Not my name,” you blow from the corner of your mouth without changing pace. That breath was ready to jump off your lip before the demon slayer even called out to you; he hates doing nothing and hates even more what great pains your staff take to avoid his room.

“It reeks.”

“Excuse me?” You huff and this time do turn enough to interrogate him via glare. Sanemi, ridiculous, folds his arms in the doorway of a very nice room, a too nice room, without any of the appropriate embarrassment of someone who has been lying in wait. The stippled blue pattern of his robes doesn’t suit him. They clash with his ugly scars and uglier attitude but don't keep him from wearing the chest wide open like a well paid rent boy.

“Stinks.”

“Whatever of, princess?”

He growls and drops his arms as you brace for the lecture, “Demons.”

His heart is incapable of peace and yours with it, and every summer he’s assigned a post in your mountains by a master you’ve never met and who couldn’t possibly be sane themself. Four years of this. Four years of twelve weeks of sixteen-hour-days of the world’s most neurotic demon slayer.

“The whole property is wide open for any fuck to attack.”

You adjust your grip on a slender bucket handle and the cloth in your other arm and continue back downhall, “You always say that.”

“I’m always right,” he nags and pushes free of his bedroom.

You met Sanemi when you were sixteen and still working under your parents. He was a brand new hashira then and prone to fist fights, spitfire, bloodshed. Nothing special. Nothing new. Hashira come and die and new hashira come again. They arrive in flashbangs and ego and leave like everyone else, in pieces.

Your parents were calm, they had peace and practice, they ran this inn, they welcomed Sanemi with his summer floods. They loved him, took his counsel and died by it, and they probably wouldn’t have lost an old man inside the house. But this is your inn now. They aren’t here anymore and at your inn sometimes old men get misplaced.

“And what would you like me to do about all that, sir?”

The hashira keeps an easy military pace behind you, “The gardens need to be reinforced and–”

“Nine acres of wisteria arbor need reinforcement? Yeah I’ll get right on that.”

“The storm will take out ha–!”

“And the other half will hold until autumn. Go berate the kitchen staff for their unpreparedness– they’re all unarmed you know? Totally unprofessional.”

“Y/n–”

“Shinazugawa,” you spin and it all comes out as a threat, a hiss, instead of just a whisper so much so that the water in your bucket nips up your sleeve. “I am the lady of this establishment and you will not address me so familiarly.”

Dark cyprus, cool hallways, the undeniable scent of thunder. Sanemi rests his hand on his sword to glare like he does when his hands don’t quite know what to do with themselves. His eyes roam, quiet under long lilly lashes until they have traced the shapes your tasuki makes with your waist and rise again to your gaze. “We’re not fucking finished.”

“Go eat,” you snap and turn back down the hallway, red at the ears. Lady of the establishment, great job.

Feet aren’t complicated, bone to tendon, tendon to muscle, muscle to skin, one step and another. You tilt your head back and an eager girl rises to wipe sweat from your temple.

“Like this,” you hum and tilt the old man’s heel in your palm. He winces but lets you continue while the girl stares on. “When the skin is split like this it can’t receive moisture– sorry sir, better?” You set his foot on the hammock of cloth between your thighs, “So you need to soak it first before applying salve. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” the girl parrots, still unable to look away.

“Yes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smile through an eye roll but gesture for her to come sit beside you. You’ve been like this since he’s met you, too old for your body.

You’ll train anyone who asks, hire any runaway girl, absorb the cost of thieves when runaways are exactly that, and you will wash old men’s feet before eating dinner with the self preservation of a samurai. Famously long-lived, those. Sanemi has to look away when you take scissors to the gnarled yellow nails and almost covers his ears when your pupil starts asking you questions about it.

“Feels good right?” You chuckle at the man’s response to your ministrations, and then a little louder, when you realize just how seriously the girl beside you is trying to focus. Birdsong. “Do you have companions on your pilgrimage, sir?” He shakes his head.

You lean away again so the girl can dab your brow and push back stray hairs and turn back to explain overdetailed care instructions to this man who is obviously so embarrassed he can’t hear a word you’re saying. Something about tallow and socks, Sanemi tries to read the syllables off your lips and loses focus the second time your teeth catch damp and pillowed pink.

The man seated in front of you grumbles some and flexes a few fingers around his cane like old men do, but doesn’t protest your instructions. He nods instead of thanking you like a real tough guy.

“Fetch a new pair of sandals from the garden shed,” you instruct your girl who bolts up and out the door past Sanemi without so much as a breath. “And you,” you turn back to your patient, “keep the nails short, you hear?”

He nods again, increasingly avoidant of eye contact. Sanemi tenses in the dark outside the guest’s complimentary room and hates ungrateful fucks enough for both of you.

“And don’t skip any more meals.” 

The man’s wrinkled skin unfolds at his eyes and he pulls his legs back underneath him. You dry your hands after scrubbing clean in a soapy pot and stand to collect your tools. “I couldn’t find you this evening and I hate to lose track of my guests at mealtime.”

You are going to feed every stray you find until the economy collapses. Peasant monks, pickpockets– you’d put up a demon if its stomach growled. After too many unnoticed minutes watching you, following the white x between your patterned shoulders, eating your voice, warming the hallway, you finally pick out Sanemi’s eyes in the dark behind the sliding door. He’s waiting for you. You clear your throat for the broke old pilgrim one last time, “You don’t owe any money. Do not skip meals.” And bid him a wordless good night. The door cracks shut behind you. It isn’t late enough for sunset. Thunderstorms make it so dark so quickly and they mask the scent of blood with all their rain and iron. “What is it?” You deadpan and shuffle towards the stairs with all the confidence in the world a tenured hashira will work to keep up with you.

“Not fucking finishied with you,” Sanemi grunts, working to keep up with you. The apron over your service kimono forces your hips to sway in tight little circles and Sanemi sucks his teeth. He doesn’t look away.

Through the hallway and down the servant stairs, socks on polished wood, you tap, tap, tap nimbly to your next assignment. The room below radiates heat and life. “What do you want?” you whisper.

“I–” he slips barefoot on the slick last step into the kitchen and you stumble in your newly damp right sock. “Euh, I–”

“Mimiko!”

“Lady?”

“Wet.” You point behind you, palming Sanemi out of the way, and a free washerwoman dives for the spot with the rag tucked into her belt. The kitchen rages silently in the easternmost corner of the mansion; men and women sweat over donabe, rinse their body weights in rice, and beat little fires with littler fans. Two women and a boy linger just outside the paper door in clothes that match yours for formality and Sanemi assumes as he weaves through the bustle, that they are responsible for bringing food to customers and for doing everything they can not to sweat through their pretty borrowed uniforms. Your own kimono is purple tonight, a cool little shape bobbing nimbly between flames.

Sanemi opens his mouth to shout after you and shuts it again just as quickly to grind his teeth instead as you lift your apron over your head. You let a girl feed you a spoonful of something on your way out of the room and she wiggles when you nod several times before ducking through the door.

Laundry next, then a double check of the firewood cache and the whole while Sanemi occupies your shadow. A few times you hiss over your shoulder at him for looking so gruff, for looking like a bodyguard, for making your customers imagine your distrust of them, always you bite back before he can get more than a few words out but mostly you just scurry in preparation for the storm picking up warm wind outside.

You avoid the entrance with him so close in tow, armed and obstinate, but make a show of circling both tatami halls where guests come after dinner on rainy nights to stretch and smoke by the brazier with strangers. A female musician trills her koto. The sky hasn’t let loose a single drop of rain yet but wet hangs like a fog and thunder scents the air ahead of its arrival. As Sanemi trails the outer walkway of the mansion behind you, the sky bleeds with the last of day’s light in the cracks between bruised and racing storm clouds.

“Second floor secure?” You confirm with the men slotting thick panels into grooves where paper doors usually go. They nod in their white uniforms. Beyond the porches, beyond the east garden and its fat green vegetables, beyond dogwood trees and sarusuberi and maples that have begun to tremble violently in winds buffeted by humidity and nightfall, the wisteria arbor glows. You radiate a cool purple pull beside him just like your flowers.

The arbor surrounds the property on all sides for half a mile and all three paths away from the house are barred by gates of twisting wisteria vine. The inn belongs to your family, but does not serve Ubuyashiki. Theirs is not the only house that discovered a use for these flowers. Yours is not the only wisteria business in the country. 

“Do you see that?” You murmur at so much the same tone as the wind that Sanemi almost cannot hear you.

Three years ago he left before the end of summer, called away to investigate a massacre nearby. A tree fell that season. It crushed a straight path through the edge of the mountain forest and onto your property where, lured by so much blood and wine, a pair of sister demons descended through the broken orchard and devoured everyone who wasn’t fast enough to hide in the flowers like the slayer suggested they should in an emergency. Your parents evacuated the house and died in it with the guests who couldn’t walk on their own. Nestled under three braided vines at the far edge of the property, you listened to them die.

The winds kick up sand from your vegetable garden and you step off the porch into the start of the storm. Tiny and purple. “Y/n!” Sanemi lunges for you. His sword whips the meat of his thigh and you step out of his way before he can grab any part he intended to. The men on the porch watch you both scramble through the backyard. You snap at the strange guest and duck when he swings a hand towards you, hop in your sandals when he tries to trip you into his arms and dart away like a dragonfly.

“Get back here!”

“Go inside!”

“Y/n!”

“How dare you!”

“Motherfucking, Y/n!” 

“That’s enough!” You bark and twist back towards the garden shed. Your pupil left the door wide open and all its shining tools caught your eye across the yard. Sanemi was staring when you stepped outside. His eyes feel like beads of sweat on the few bare parts of you. His gaze is all teeth on the back of your neck.

With all but one storm door up, not a single guest can hear the ruckus you two kick up outside in the prologue of the storm. “It’s about to pour!”

“Then go join the other guests!” You shout through a particularly violent breeze and you have to grip to the break in your kimono closed. He does not. By the time you lay a winded hand on the wall of the shed, it has started to rain.

A silencing wall of water falls from the back of the property straight towards you. It kills dust clouds in its path and paints every surface soaked in a perfectly straight line. Sanemi rushes from behind and nearly lifts you off your feet to get inside the shed as you watch the supernatural army advance on your home.

“Shit,” he grumbles and winces when the rain overcomes the little shed and splashes off the pavement into his face. He pulls you deeper inside and you jolt. The first crack of thunder is a scream that shakes the ground, “Scared of thunder now?”

“Scared of my profit margins, you oaf.”

Under his shoulder you are glaring at the storm between this shitty stuffy shed and your business. You are so small and wrapped so tightly in layer after layer of fabric. It must be hot. The damp drips down his open chest and thighs, it frizzes his hair at his ears. You must be sweating somewhere in that formal getup. Wet glistens at the curled little hairs on the back of your neck where the skin is just barely visible and it sparkles under your high collar.

“I can’t walk back inside soaked,” you groan, “there’s not enough time to change before final rounds.”

Sanemi takes his hand off his sword. There must be damp parts of you hiding from him. He brushes his knuckle up the bare skin of your neck, across your throat, and you falter slightly.

“Sanemi–”

“Nuh uh, don’t address me so familiarly,” he smirks and cups your cheek in his big hand when you jerk around.

“That’s not–!”

“Not what?” He smiles now, and drops his hand back to his sword so that you might find your own weapon and finish the fight. Four years of this.

You shove a finger into his chest, “You’re such a clingy fuck Shinazugawa,” and shout a little because you know the thunder will hide it. A sudden gust blows the sheet of rain sideways and straight inside the open door of the garden shed, up your dress and down his robes and through your prettily pinned hair. “Y/n this, y/n that, I’m busy Sanemi, I’m stuck in a shed! You’re the only one who calls me and people think we’re fucking! You want my attention you have it so please tell me all about the demons that’re gonna slurp up my customers and fuck my taxes to shit and–”

The door creaks in Sanemi’s hands even through the oceanic sounds of storm when he begins to close it. He nods as you get louder, nods as he slides the door closed and flicks the latch.

“Do not,” you growl, “there’s five thousand–”

“Five thousand little bitches in there lost without direction? They’re fine, Y/n.”

“Don’t call me that here.”

“They’ll survive, little lady.”

You spit, “not better.” And the new humidity of the closed shed begins to swallow you whole. It fills your throat. “What about all the demons you’ve been crying about?”

“You’re such a cocky cuss.”

“And you’re needy,” you taunt. It’s Sanemi’s turn to wince and his frustration starts to drip from all those places he shoves it away from you. He's been gentle with you since that summer. He lets you interrupt him, he follows where you go. “I watched you check perimeters this morning, you don’t need to talk to me about demons.”

“Eyes everywhere huh?” His throat is pink, “Lady of the house.”

You grin and pull him by the loops of his robe into your tiny purple kiss, “Shut up.”

“M’lady,” he growls against your lips and succumbs.

Four years of stolen touches, lips on damp summer skin, coming out of empty rooms too ruffled and pulling the hashira between your legs without disturbing the folds of your work kimono. “Don’t call me that either,” your breath hisses against his throat like an iron and he drops his sword quickly to gather you in his arms.

Too much fabric. Shovels and shears clatter against the floor and one another when the thunder shakes their little house again, and they tremble at every thump and roll of your body against Sanemi’s. He pulls your hips against his and guides your legs around his waist so he can sink into those soft parts of you. So he can tilt his head back to look up at you, so you can pour your kisses down his throat like wine.

You drag your nails up the back of his head when he offers his tongue to your lips, biting, suckling, drawing out gentle sounds and eating them before they compete with the rain outside. Where his hips dig into your own the folds of your skirt fall apart. Legs that glisten with sweat and rain part nicely for him and his own robes grow clingy with exertion where he grinds hard against you. Every subtle roll breaks your concentration in kisses, in lips sliding, begging with salvia and rainwater. His hands cup your cheeks, thighs, the collar of your kimono shudders open for him when he dips to suck bruises under your jaw and the swordsman’s hand loses control as he grips your belt to free you from all this formality. He’ll press crescents into your breasts, he’ll lower his tongue through your peach sweet folds and drink until you cry– but you pull his head back with a sharp yank of your wrist.

Your breath comes in clouds. The inn glows with candlelight across the yard but the light through the shed’s window is too weak. Welts of lighting illuminate the flush of your chest and cheeks. Two seconds of bright and twelve of dark warmth, shaking swirling thunder and then only rain. Sweat rolls from your temples and into the depths of your kimono. It’s been days since he’s had you like this and longer since you’ve had true privacy, others a whole yard away.

You can’t be gone long, he knows. Staff watched you race in here together, watched him shut the door, he knows he knows, he just can’t put you down yet. He leans in for another kiss and you let him fall close enough for his chest to crush yours before pulling back on his hair again.

“Y/n,” he’s suddenly not above begging but you hold his gaze tight. You watch him as your hand slips between the place your bodies meet. Pretty fingers reach for the heat between his legs. Pretty knuckles ghost over the swell of his robes and draw the fabric aside instead of ordering he bring you back inside. Sanemi’s cock perks up in free air as high as this position will let it and rests heavy under the swell of your ass.

He kisses you again, toothy and smiling and when you kiss him back your sharpest teeth clink together. He ruts into your desperation against the wall, harder than the rain, harder than the wind that threatens to blow your shed away and you with it. Obviously he wouldn’t let it but the thought that nature might be jealous of the rumple you made of each other drives him harder against you. Slipping, cock hard and suddenly shifted up against the hair under your belly. Peach fuzz yields to warm slick and Sanemi drops his head to your chest when he shudders to avoid whimpering into your mouth. He slips through your folds with a tight hold still under your thighs and drags himself up, down, up, hypnotized always by the faces you make when you’re trying to keep quiet.

The scars across his body are forever numb, but when your clammy hands paw is his chest he swears he can smell color. He can touch light when you pull his face back to yours frantically, when your hips with all their fabric flowing off of them buck sloppily against his, when he thrusts once deeply inside of you and forces a broken gasp from the back of your throat.

Before you can catch your breath your lips have crashed against his and his hips against yours. Sanemi keeps the relentless, restless, starving pace you like and knows he’ll last only the next few minutes before the worst of the storm blows over. Again and again he carves a palace for himself inside of you. You guide him with the falter of your kisses when he finds that perfect spot and with the slick that coats both of your thighs. Your voice escapes you in choked whimpers, his name comes out in hiccups. You’re a little bell in his arms folded in half and singing for him.

Again and again, out and so deep back inside, Sanemi’s feet grip the floor as he plunges his hips into yours and both of your bodies into the swelling wood walls. His rhythm staggers as you flutter around him and with his head against your shoulder he watches the circles you draw on your clit with the tips of four clumsy fingers as your other hand muffles your voice. He grabs that quieting wrist without thinking and without taking his eyes off the place your bodies connect with lewd squelches and sticky white threads. His threatening grip, his thick cock and your fingers push you right over the lip of your pleasure and fluttering becomes milking spasms quicker than Sanemi can think to treat you gently. That half-sobbing voice he loves so much cheers him towards his own climax and the more sensitive you grow the easier it is to coax those sounds out of you that you try to keep hidden, “Don’t– don’t be so quiet.”

“Inside,” you whisper in reply and draw his face into your hands as his pounding stutters in pace and loses all flow completely under your dreamy gazes. Sanemi can’t keep his eyes open when he cums. His pretty lilly lashes flutter with lost concentration. He shudders, ruts you deeper into the wall and groans with release as he fills those swollen wet parts of you. Warmth pools in your belly and trickles off his cock still buried. Sweat falls like the rain outside.

“Wanna taste,” Sanemi rumbles without setting you down or stilling his thrusts fully. He nuzzles somehow farther into the dip of your collarbones. Soft snow white hair, a heartbeat in the fingers that grip you. Every twitch of his hips is a starving ache.

“C'mon,” you grin, “dinner’ll get cold.”

“Let me taste you.”

“Sanemi, what will I eat if you eat me?”

“Have a few ideas,” he smiles back through the trembling of the shed in encores of thunder and gale. A leak tip tap tip taps nearby. Four years of this, maybe more.

[official-darkforest]

What’s Jayfeather and Alderheart’s relationship like in your au? I always imagined Jayfeather choosing to tutor one of his siblings after Hollyleaf, Cinderheart, and Lionblaze kind of did and he realizes five days later he was mislead into thinking this would be fun but now he just has a little 13 year old on his hands. But I don’t know how well that translates to another time period

kinda! i think with how the timelines overlap a lot closer (to make sure that characters are within reasonable age differences between each other) alder and his sister were born earlier and are only just barely younger than ivy/dove, so jay/lion/holly’s childhood overlaps with alder/spark’s a little bit. i’d say with squirrel’s fertility issues (probably PCOS or some other unspecified reproductive disorder) they probably have a pretty significant age difference but not to the same degree as the books where jay was a grown ass adult (theres a 5 year difference between them in canon! that means he wouldve been like fucking 35 or so human yrs LMFAOO) by the time alder was born. maybe 10 yrs at the most. dandelion and juniper were born between that but unfortunately didnt survive long

as for their relationship, they were pretty okay. jay was probably fresh into college by the time alder got diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. squirrel/bramble probably pressed jay about it but he dismissed them because he was still a student at the time and nowhere near a professional yet. alder idolized jay a lot growing up because he “didn’t let his disability hold him back”. there qas a lot of inspiration porn type of thinking on alder’s end and honestly the rest of the family kinda perpetuated it as well so its not just him. its not intentional either but yknow. at a certain point (and a lot of long conversations and arguments between the two about it) alder stops idolizing him to such an unhealthy degree and doesn’t fall into the ‘if my disabled brother can do xyz then i have 0 excuses’ line of thinking as much as he used to. while alder isnt the biggest fan of jay trying to psychoanalyze him mid-argument, he takes his word into consideration anyways

jay likes to say he thinks alder is irritating (in the younger sibling kind of way) but honestly spark was worse than alder when she was a teenager. jay just interacted with alder more since he was quieter and less overstimulating, especially when in the Deepest Pits Of College Homework Hell. also hes bluffing he really does enjoy alder’s company. he’s hard on him because he wants the younger to succeed, evem if hes a bit mean about it sometimes.

alder eventually becomes a pharmacist instead of a psychologist, finding the work of the former much more attuned to his needs and his likes. he’s still helping people. by the 2010s-2020s, he’s even filled and compounded a few medications jay prescribed to his patients!

[firewasabeast]

Uncle Eddie (part 4)

Each part of this series can be read individually. If you'd like to start at the beginning, here you go. You can read this installment here or on ao3.

Originally, Juniper had been staying with Maddie. Tommy and Buck needed a couple nights away, and Maddie loved any excuse to have girl time with Jee and Junie.

Then, on the way back home, Tommy came down with a stomach bug. A stomach bug that came with a fever, severe nausea, and vomiting.

So, Juniper stayed another night with Maddie.

And the next day, Buck was just as miserable with the same bug.

So, Juniper stayed another night.

The problem was that Maddie and Chimney had planned a getaway of their own, while Jee stayed with the Lee's.

That's how Juniper ended up at Eddie's place.

It was his own idea. Buck had asked him if he'd pick her up from Maddie's and drop her off. Neither he nor Tommy could risk being away from the bathroom for too long. That's when Eddie suggested he stay with her for a couple nights.

“You know she's gonna get whatever you guys have if she comes home,” he said to Buck on the phone. “And you know she never pukes into the toilet.”

“Oh God, I know, it's always projectile.”

“Couple nights, you guys will be good as new, and Juniper will stay vomit free.”

It wasn't difficult to convince them. They took turns speaking to Juniper over Facetime, and she informed them she she was fine and, “Super-duper-party-pooper excited to stay with Uncle Eddie!”

Apparently that was a good thing.

At least, that's what Buck told him before he had to leave and go throw up again.

*****

Two days later, Eddie got the text that neither of them had a fever anymore, the vomiting had stopped, and their appetites were back to normal. It was already evening, and Eddie knew they'd have laundry and house cleaning to catch up on, so he offered to keep Juniper one more night and he'd bring her home in the morning.

“That okay with you?” Eddie asked Juniper once he'd cleared it with her dads.

She responded by sticking her thumbs up and jumping up and down while shouting, “That's super-duper-party-pooper perfect!”

He'd been hearing that phrase for days now and, while internally it drove him absolutely insane, outwardly he smiled and said, “Great!”

She continued jumping for a few more seconds, then stopped abruptly and gasped.

Eddie startled. “What? What's wrong?”

“Oh, we need to make Daddy and Papa cookies!”

Eddie took a breath, settling back on the couch. “You scared me, kid.”

“I'm serious, Uncle Eddie. So, very, very serious. Daddy always makes me, um, the, um the peanut butter chocolate chip cookies after I was sick. We all love them.” She folded her hands together and brought them to her chest, “Please, Uncle Eddie, please, please, please-”

“Okay! Okay, that's- that'll be fine. We'll have to go get the stuff though.”

She started moving her arms and legs mechanically, becoming a robot as she headed off, “Get-ting rea-dy for gro-cery store to make coo-kies for Pa-pa and Da-ddy.”

That lasted until she got about halfway down the hall, then she was skipping the rest of the way to grab her shoes out of the bedroom and bring them back to the living room to put on.

As she was doing this, Eddie grabbed up his phone and sent a text to Tommy.

I need Buck's peanut butter chocolate chip recipe asap. Also, if a certain 4'1 minion ever asks, I never sent this text.

It only took him a few seconds to get a reply.

Ha! Gotcha! I know Evan has a copy in his recipe box. Give me a sec and I'll send it.

Eddie got his wallet and keys while Juniper finished tying her shoes.

“Go use the bathroom before we go,” he instructed, waving her off down the hall.

“But I don't need-”

“Go use the bathroom before we go.”

“Ugh!” Juniper rolled her eyes ever so dramatically as she marched off to the bathroom. Just as she closed the door, Eddie received the recipe from Tommy.

Thank you! He texted back. Also, this conversation can no longer exist.

Deleting now. Good luck! She's tougher than a drill sergeant when it comes to following a recipe.

Oh, so exactly like Buck. Good to know!

I would argue worse, but she definitely gets it from him. Like I said, good luck.

Eddie took in a deep, cleansing breath, readying himself for whatever he was about to get into.

*****

Eddie would have to remember to give all the leftover baking stuff to Buck once they were done. He found it absolutely ridiculous he had to buy entire containers of baking soda and baking powder when all he'd need was a teaspoon.

“Why do we even need both anyway?” he asked Juniper as he set out all the ingredients. “They can't be that important.”

She shot him a death glare. “Every ingredient is im- important when baking.”

He held his hands up in surrender.

So it begins.

“Okay, oven is preheating.” He stared at his phone, studying the recipe. “Apparently we mix the dry ingredients in one bowl and then the wet in another bowl, then combine them.”

“How'd you get my daddy's recipe on your phone?” Juniper asked, heading to the sink to wash her hands.

“Oh, um, your dad gave it to me a long time ago. I was gonna try to make them but I didn't.”

It was a weak lie, but she was seven- well, seven and three quarters if you asked her- so the lie didn't need to be all that great.

After she finished washing her hands, Juniper sat at the table and clapped her hands together. “Let's. Get. Started!”

The mixing of the dry ingredients went well. Juniper, tongue poking out between her teeth, measured out the flour perfectly, along with the baking soda, powder, and salt.

It was when they got to the wet ingredients that things began to fall apart.

There were so many instructions that seemed to need to be done all at once. The butter needed melted, then vigorously stirred with the peanut butter until it was combined. Eggs needed cracked, and one yolk needed separated from the white. You had to make sure the butter was melty and warm enough to cream with the peanut butter but not so hot that it made the eggs scramble. And maybe this wouldn't have been a problem for literally anyone else, but Eddie was not a baker, had never been a baker, and had no desire to be a baker.

So it was a problem.

It didn't help that Juniper was every bit as bad as Tommy warned.

“You don't do it like that.”

“You have to mix slower.”

“That's not how you se- separate the yolk.”

“The butter isn't melty enough.”

“I think the butter is too melty.”

“Oh, this is not looking great,” Juniper shook her head. “Daddy always smushes the brown sugar to make more sugar fit. You need to smush.”

“I'm smushing,” Eddie replied, wiping the back of his hand over his forehead.

My God, he was sweating! He wondered how he ever got to the point in his life where baking was a strenuous task.

“And I- I know we have to do two teaspoons of the vanilla,” she said, picking up the six dollar bottle of pure vanilla extract that they had to get because the two dollar bottle of imitation vanilla was met with a gag by Juniper. “Not three teaspoons. That's too much.”

“Okay, okay.” He grabbed the teaspoon and poured the first one in. On the second teaspoon, his hand shook slightly and half the bottle spilled onto the table.

“Shi- Shoot!” he exclaimed, grabbing up paper towels to wipe the mess.

Juniper grimaced. “Yikes. Daddy says a messy kitchen is not a happy kitchen.”

“You should tell him to follow that rule in the kitchen at work,” Eddie mumbled, tossing the paper towels into the trash.

She scratched at her nose, transferring the flour that was on her hands. “He says that's or- org- organized chaos.”

“I'm sure he does. You can read right?”

She sighed. “Of course I can.”

“Read how many chocolate chips we need.”

She leaned over the table to get a look at the recipe. “Two cups,” she said, letting out a, “Uh-oh,” as she sat back down.

“Uh-oh? What's uh-” he stopped when he looked over and saw her holding her hair, a grimace on her face as the wet ingredients dripped down her curls. “What happened?”

“My hair went in the- the mixture!”

Suddenly, she was on the verge of tears. Her face scrunched up in a mix of panic and sadness. "We cannot let these cookies be musty-dusty-crusty, Uncle Eddie. I- I will just die!”

Eddie made a mental note to tell Tommy that while she may get her need to follow a recipe from Buck, she most definitely got his flair for the dramatic.

“I promise you these cookies will not be musty, dusty, or crusty, Chewy,” he reassured her. He grabbed a towel and wet it in the sink, then lifted her out of the chair and sat her on his lap. “Your dads are gonna love them.”

She rubbed at her eyes, wiping the tears before they could fall. “Are you sure?” she sniffed.

“I'm positive.” He took his time making sure her hair was free of the peanut butter mixture before patting her leg to get her to hop up. “Okay, ready to get back at it?”

“Do we need to start over?”

He lifted the bowl of wet ingredients, searching around for any sight of hair. “Uh, no. Nope, we're fine.”

She eyed him questioningly. “We can't have it messed up.”

“One again, it will not be messed up. Start putting the dry in with the wet, slowly.”

He took another peek at the recipe, then quickly closed out of it before she could read the part that said 'let dough sit for 24 hours'. There were some thing's she simply did not need to know.

“So you and your dad make these a lot, huh?”

“Mostly after I've been sick,” she replied. “He mixes the ingredients though and I help scoop the dough. Papa says it's, um, it's because I- I go mad with power.” She looked up at Eddie. “I do not know what that means.”

Eddie put on a smile. “It means the next time your papa and I do Muay Thai, I'm gonna kick his butt.”

By some miracle, they got the cookie dough finished, scooped out, and put in the oven.

Then Juniper went to play on her tablet while Eddie spent the next fifteen minutes cleaning up the disaster that was his kitchen.

Once the cookies had come out of the oven and cooled, they each tried one. Eddie was a bit on edge, worried about finding a hair somewhere, but luckily he did not.

“These are great, Chewy!” Eddie exclaimed, exaggerating a bit with his bite. They weren't bad, not bad at all, but they were definitely not on Buck's level. He was certain of that.

Juniper nodded, melted chocolate covering her lips. “Mmm,” she hummed, shoving another bite into her mouth. “Yum, yum!”

*****

When Eddie dropped her off the next day, both Buck and Tommy met her at the door.

Buck picked her up first, squeezing her tight. “I missed you, Junie!” he exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Missed you, Daddy!”

She reached out for Tommy next and he took her out of Buck's arms. “I think you grew, Miss Juniper,” he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “At least a foot.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, Papa, I would need new clothes.” She paused, then her eyes widened at the thought. “Can we get me new clothes?!”

“Oh dear.”

They all stepped inside, and Eddie placed all of Juniper's things in the corner near the entryway, except for one container he kept in his hands.

“Thank you so much for keeping her, Eddie,” Tommy said, Juniper still snuggled up in his arms.

“Yes, thank you,” Buck echoed. “You wanna come in for a bit?”

Eddie shook his head. “Nah, I gotta go, but Junie, do you want to give this to your dads before leave?” He held out the container and she gasped, wiggling out of Tommy's arms.

She grabbed the container and handed it to Buck. “This is for both of you,” she said, “for being sick.”

They feigned surprise well, excitedly telling her how delicious they looked and how they'd have to go share them together at the table.

“Let's go get the milk poured,” Tommy said, taking her hand and leading her toward the kitchen. “Thanks again, Eddie.”

“No problem. See ya, Chewy!”

“Bye, Uncle Eddie!”

“So,” Buck started once Juniper was out of earshot, “you baked with Juniper?” There was a smirk on his face that Eddie could only meet with a glare. “How'd that go?”

“Oh, you know, something I can add to my list of things I'll never do again.”

Buck laughed. “Tommy tried cooking with us one time and he, uh, he left halfway through mumbling something about war flashbacks. She's okay with me if we're cooking, but baking is... that's something else.”

“Yes, I'm aware now.” Eddie reached for the door, but stopped and leaned in close to Buck. “Also, if you happen to get a hair, no you didn't.”

“Oh... Um, o- okay? Do I wanna know?”

“Nope. Later, Buck.”

“See ya, Eddie.”

“Did you have fun with Uncle Eddie?” Eddie heard Tommy ask as headed out the door.

“It was super-duper-party-”

Eddie closed the door behind him before he could hear the rest of the sentence. Sometimes, the best part of being an uncle was the ability to walk away.

[miasmaghoul]

for the ship & kiss prompt: #46 terzo/omega !!

From this list.

#46 - out of envy or jealousy

-----

Omega digs his claws into his palms and works to hold back his growl. He told himself he would be okay with this, but the more he sees the harder it is to keep the frustration silent.

He can't even recall what this ritual is for right now. Terzo had reminded him this evening, while Omega busied himself applying his Papa's paint and combing his hair, but he'll be damned if he can recall anything. Except, of course, the bit that won't stop replaying in his mind.

"It is not my decision, Omega," Terzo had murmured while the ghoul lined his temple in black. "It is as I said - this ritual requires a fire ghoul."

"I understand that," he'd rumbled, tucking thick locks behind Terzo's ear. "But does it have to be that one?"

Terzo had chuckled, cinching the belt of his silky golden robe. The soft yellow light of the chapel's dressing room had glinted off his gold, onyx and amethyst rings. Odd to see his hands exposed before a mass, a specific kind of nakedness that Omega had been unable to pull his focus from.

"If I did not know better, my ghoul," he'd cooed, adjusting the rosary nestled in his silky chest hair, "I would think you are jealous."

Omega had scoffed, scowling behind his mask while he tucked away his applicator. Jealous? Certainly not. One of those glittering rings matches the one on Omega's own left hand, and his spins it with his thumb. Proof of their devotion to one another, exchanged years ago now - devotion that has never wavered. He has nothing to be jealous of.

But it just had to be Ifrit.

Ifrit, who slips the robe from Terzo's shoulders with too much slowness, leaving him bare save for the paint. Whose knuckles graze their Papa's skin with a reverence that suggests knowing. Whose fingertips graze that silver rosary at the center of his chest while Terzo recites something in Latin.

Ifrit, who pours a heavily scented oil into his large palms and takes his time massaging the heady substance into Terzo's skin. Who fills the air by the altar with juniper, sage and something floral. Who rubs it in from the line of Terzo's throat to the tips of his fingers, coating every inch of pale skin and thick hair. Who gets all the way to Terzo's waist before he needs to douse his hand in more of that oil.

Ifrit, who has the gall to look Omega right in the eye when he gets a handful of Terzo's cock and rubs it all slick and shiny.

It just had to be Ifrit.

Omega rolls his shoulders, counts to ten over and over again while Ifrit holds his gaze and oils up Terzo's thighs. Making an unnecessary show of touching him, one that has Omega's hackles up and his face hot behind his mask. He can hear Ifrit purring underneath the drone of Terzo's recitations, and Omega knows it's for his benefit. He's the only other ghoul near the altar, after all.

Omega knows it's true that he has nothing to be jealous of, but something about Ifrit in particular makes that hard to believe. He touches Terzo like a lover, every time he can find an excuse to, and it makes Omega's jaw hurt on the best of days. Having to watch those greedy hands caress every exposed inch of his Papa has his blood pounding in his ears.

Ritual or not, those should be his hands.

But they aren't, and Omega suffers through the minutes it takes Ifrit to do his job. To coat Terzo in that sacred oil while he finished his infernal prayers. He also suffers through Ifrit's unrelenting gaze, burning copper eyes dancing behind his mask in a way that makes Omega want to throttle him. He breathes through the tingle that runs through his palms at the thought, and rolls his shoulders when Ifrit finally steps away with an obvious bulge behind his tunic.

Terzo caches his eye during the moment of silence that follows the end of his long, archaic incantation, and Omega can see his smirk straight through his paint.

This time, he can't hold back his growl.

The rest of the ceremony happens in a rush of heat and power and the stench of sulfur. Ifrit's purpose makes itself known; a plume of searing, blue and white flame coming to life in his palm and dancing in a nonexistant breeze. Omega crosses his arms over his chest when he hears whispers of ghoulish, muffled behind Ifrit's mask, and he takes a deep breath when that flame burns even brighter.

A breath he holds when Terzo kneels. When he cups his own palms and holds them out in silent offering. When Ifrit pours that malleable fire into his hands, Omega's claws bite into his flesh.

Now he recalls the purpose of this ritual. It's a test of strength, of faith. Secondo went through something similar, he recalls, years and years ago. His trial had been administered by a water ghoul, but the premise had been the same. Designed to have their leader risk life and limb, with their only protection being that of their faith. Thanks to that, Secondo had endured nearly seven minutes submerged underwater without so much as a brow twitch.

Omega watches the fire grow in his Papa's hands, watches it shiver and spit, and for a moment his heart skips. A half-second of doubt, of worry that the oil had caught and that the human who means more to him than his own pack would be engulfed.

He should know better by now.

The fire settles, curls itself around Terzo's wrist and snakes a slow path up his arm, curling around soft muscle and slithering it's way onto his chest. The congregation murmurs as they watch, and Omega unclenches his jaw, the tightness behind his ribs fades to the warmest sort of pride.

Then Ifrit steps back into frame, and that soft warmth gives way to the icy swirl of envy that wraps around his spine.

Omega watches like a hawk as the other ghoul steps between Terzo's spread thighs, the sharp light of the unholy flame flashing off the buttons of his tunic, his pendant. Terzo hasn't taken his eyes off Ifrit since he took hold of the fire, pupils wide, and Omega's upper lip curls when he lifts his mask. He doesn't remove it, just slides it up enough for Omega to see his mouth form the distict shapes of their old tongue.

He can also see the shit-eating grin Ifrit doesn't bother to hide, and he would like to do nothing more than slap it off his brutally handsome, angular face. It's a feeling that only grows when Ifrit's hand moves to cup Terzo's jaw, when his claws dimple a painted cheek. When he bends at the waist, half-masked visage no more than an inch from their Papa's.

Omega closes his eyes before he has to watch Ifrit's forked tongue slip between his Papa's black-and-white lips.

He doesn't open them again until he feels the swift rush of hot air that snuffs out every candle in the chapel, moonlight flowing through the ornate stained glass dome above the only remaining source of illumination. It casts the pair on the altar in sharp relief, a snapshot of connection that sears itself into Omega's retinas without his consent.

When Ifrit pulls back, his tongue is the last thing Omega sees.

That wandering flame swirls its way back to Terzo's outstretched hands and Ifrit collects it with a flourish, letting it fizzle between his fingers. It's shrunk to nearly nothing when he raises his palm to Terzo's lips, and with a whisper of something Omega can't quite parse their Papa extinguishes that final spark.

All at once the candles lining the aisle and dotting the altar flare back to life, and applause erupts from the ghouls and siblings filling the pews. Another successful rite under their Papa's bejeweled belt. His body shimmers in the warm light, and as Ifrit helps him to his feet all Omega wants to do is collect Terzo's rube and whisk him away from prying eyes - and callused hands that linger far too long for his liking. But he can't - he told himself he could handle this.

One of Ifrit's hands drifts to Terzo's hip, fingers sinking into the softness there, and Omega decides he's handled enough.

He says nothing when he joins them on the raised plinth at the head of the chapel, heels clicking against the black marble, and then he's pulling Terzo from Ifrit's side with decidedly possessive hands. He feels Terzo stumble and apologizes under his breath, but Terzo simply pats his chest. Lets the ghoul settle that golden robe around his shoulders once more while Omega stares daggers at Ifrit. The other ghoul responds in kind, gives himself a rude grope that makes Omega want to gnash his fangs and stake his claim right here in front of all these people, but he's not like Ifrit. Not showy, at least not when he isn't performing, so he tightens his grip on his Papa's arm instead. Waits for Terzo to finish tying off his belt while he addressed the crowd, thanks them for their faith and adulation. Only once he's bowed to his adoring followers does Terzo excuse himself, and without another word Omega coaxes him from their perch and towards the dressing room.

He feels Ifrit staring at his back the entire way, the heat of it only breaking when he latches the door behind them. The growl that's been stuck deep in Omega's chest rattles itself loose the second they're alone, and he can't help how quickly he pins Terzo to the nearest wall, nor the way he flings his mask aside and bares his fangs.

"Not jealous, hmm?" Terzo teases, a touch breathless, and Omega wishes he wasn't so in love with those mismatched eyes.

He doesn't answer - not with words. He gets a broad palm over Terzo's mouth and wipes off the paint Ifrit had smudged from his lips, and Terzo laughs.

The kiss Omega silences his with is overzealous, aggressive. He pins the man's shoulders to the wall and licks into his mouth with no grace, nothing but the desire to own. Sloppy and urgent, like they hadn't woken up together this morning and spent most of the day in bed. Omega kisses him like it's the first time again, and with every breathy sound he wrings from the human he's made his mate he feels a little more sane.

"He didn't deserve to taste you," the ghoul snarls when they part for breath, his Papa curling oiled hands into his tunic. He leans in and buries his nose in that thick hair, breathes deep. "Next time I see him, I'm ripping his tongue out and feeding it to the hounds."

"That would be a terrible waste," Terzo rasps, leaning up to lick at Omega's lower lip. "He is quite skilled with that tongue."

He grins with every tooth in his head, Omega's vision flashes red, and before he knows what's happening he has Terzo face down on the carpeted floor with his ass in the air.

"You shouldn't know that," he bites out, and he can tell by the sound Terzo makes that the tone goes right to his most sensitive spots. Omega knows he does this on purpose - he's a hard ghoul to rile up - but with the scent of arousal that's starting to cut through the aroma of the oil, he really can't complain. He sneaks two fingers between Terzo's slick cheeks, watches them move under the robe, and the moment he grazes his hole Omega's stomach goes hot. "I'll have to make you forget."

"That may not be so easy," Terzo breathes, settling into a deep arch and pillowing his head on both arms. "He's very good."

Omega's answering hiss is promise enough that he means it.

[mintmatcha]

Mint, I need Lady in Waiting reader to find out that Sir Aizawa isn't married, I NEED this (I need to caress his weary face in my hands and watch his eyes slowly close as he cuddles into them, like a cat)

It’s normal for him to notice who comes and goes at these events. The vigilance is ingrained deep in every muscle, so much so that his eyes flicker to the door whenever there’s even a hint of movement.

That’s how he notices you dip out, the tails of your dress following behind.

He also notices that someone else is watching you.

“And then the dragon breathed fire. Did you know dragons could do that, mister?” the princess babbles, “That might only be in stories, though.”

Aizawa can barely mutter out a sound as he watches the other man -a squire, servicing under one of the other knights- excuses himself and heads to through door. He knows something is wrong by the way he moves. There’s too much purpose in his stride, a goal set into his brow and a smirk of his lips. It’s not the smile of a secret lovers meeting– its the sharpness of a predator hunting its prey.

“Mister Aizawa?”

Princess Eri tugs at the fabric of his shirt. The princess is especially young compared to the age of her father, only six as of this summer. Guarding her as been some of the easier years of his life, but also some of the most rewarding.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he stands, “I have to check on something.”

The young girl looks at him with wide eyes. “Will you be back soon? You promised we would dance.”

He ruffles her hair as he spins on his heel. He fears she has become his soft spot. “Before you know it, princess.”

He can’t hear your voice until his halfway down the hall and clear of the din of the banquet hall. It’s hushed, but with none of the polite lacquer you usually apply.

“I said I am retiring for the night,” you hiss.

“Perfect - then we shall head to your room.”

As Aizawa peers around the corner, he catches the blonde man reaching for you and grasping at the hem of your sleeve. You immediately rip yourself away, only for the squire to grap your other hand much more firmly.

“Sir Monoma,” you say, “If I have told you once, I have told you a hundred times. My heart belongs to another and I have no interest in you.”

The squire steps in closer, a laugh on his breath. He’s drunk enough that Aizawa can almost smell it from here. “Everyone sees how you long for the man. If he hasn’t reciprocated by now, you are waiting for nothing. You’re wasting your good years on a fool.”

Pity pangs in Aizawa’s chest. Have your affections been this obvious the whole time? He’d only just began to notice your lingering glances and hesitant touches– how long had it been obvious to everyone else? How much time had he spent missing you?

“Just one chance.” The squire tugs on your arm, trying to drag you in, but you hold firm, “I’ll treat you real nice, I swear it.”

The man twists slightly and you yelp.

Aizawa moves without thinking. It’s easy to catch a drunk man off guard. He slides in and knocks his weight off center, and in the instant of surprise, his hard snatches the squires away from yours. With a twist and a pop, the man’s arm folds behind his back and he falls to his knees, a strangled sound in his lips. It’s after, when he sees the fear in your eyes, that the anger sets in.

“If I am ever to catch you touching a maiden again I will break this arm so badly that you will never use it again, do you understand?” The words rip from his throat, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir, or course, sir,” the man spits out.

“Your charge will hear of this.” With a shove, Aizawa sends him stumbling back, “And the king. Now, be off.”

There’s a moment of hesitation.

“I said be off.”

Monoma scrambles down the hall, back towards the party. You watch, rubbing your twisted skin with a dour look and avoiding Aizawa’s gaze. He’s not one to get flustered, but suddenly he is; you smell like juniper and flowers, a summer’s day, and rolled in like a winter’s storm.

“Don’t worry. His wrist is only sprained,” he offers.

“Frankly, I think you should have broken it.”

That surprises him enough that he chuckles.

“Was that too harsh?” you ask.

“Not at all.”

“Thank you, Sir, I don’t know how to repay you-”

Aizawa had discussed moments like these, the little openings that life gives him and he keeps squandering. Hizashi always tells him to be bold and romantic, Toshinori says to be soft and himself. Both seem like bad choices- so Aizawa decides to so something different entirely.

“Give me your hand.” He holds his own out, palm up. “That is all I request.”

You check the hall with a fair amount of apprehension. “Would your wife approve?”

“I am not married.”

“You aren’t?”

“Not even close to it.” He want s to explain the mix up, but the only thing he can focus on are you hands and how they wring your dress, “You can deny me. I’d understand.”

You lift your hand and place it in his, hovering slightly above his touch. Gently, he raises it to his lips and gives it the chastest of kisses. He expects you to pull away, maybe even slap him, but you don’t. Your touch lingers, warm against his skin.

“Are you sure you are unmarried?” you whisper, “You’ll break my heart if you are lying.”

He turns your wrist and presses a firmer kiss into your pulsepoint, then another, and another, trailing up your arm.

“You can ask the king himself.”

Right before he can nestle his face into the crook of your neck, you break away.

“Then, I will,” you say, dipping away and back towards the grand hall, “I will ask right now. I don’t want you to make a dishonest woman of me, sir.”

“Don’t ask in front of the court!” Aizawa is quick to follow, a uncharacteristic blush blossoming across his cheeks.

“Because you’ll be shown to be a liar?”

“Because the king might end up begging you to take me.”

[ak319]

Yan G!P Princess x fem reader

(Your name is Deniz in the story)

PART V ➺ PART IV

(YOUR POV)

"Princess here!"

"Princess Kade , here!"

"Where did you both first meet?!"

"Is our new princess in the castle?!"

"How long I’ve waited to hear these questions, to see the desperate anticipation in every man, woman, and child’s eyes about my marriage with you. The day they would be dying to know about you, about us."

That’s what she said. She released the article, just as I expected. So, I lost. I finally lost. And I would have lost no matter what.

It’s been two weeks since... I can’t even bear to say or think about what happened. But yes, two weeks, and I’m still stuck in this damn room, watching her answer questions with such delight. The lies she’s telling, as if she’s trying to craft a fairy tale. And she’s done it. She told them how she first saw me playing and was captivated by everything—my sportsmanship, my personality, my beauty. Then, when someone asked about her previous failed engagement with Juniper, she outright denied even knowing her and excused herself, slamming the car door. That means she’s coming back to the palace—probably to spend more time with me here.

I would just sit in the corner, ignoring her as best I could while she tried to talk to me. But she still remained, informing me about the commencement of the arrangement and how she had spoken to her assistant to arrange some classes for me—ranging from media etiquette to royal protocol. At first, I cursed at the mere idea of it, but when she said I wouldn’t be allowed to use my phone, I had no choice but to comply. But I’ll make sure to make those classes as miserable as possible. Let’s see how long the teachers last.

My parents went back home and will be invited back for the wedding. I video-call them daily now that I have the strength to. Ever since the incident, I had been blaming them, even though I knew it wasn’t their fault. I just needed time. Clara and Leo finally picked up my calls, but not from my phone--from the palace’s telephone. Yes, apparently, Kade ordered this too, and I had no choice since the calls from my phone are still blocked. It’s just another way of monitoring me because Kade knows Clara could help me somehow. But I also know that if I tried to ask for help, it would only create problems for Clara. So, in the end, I could only cry during the calls while she cursed Kade and her family non-stop.

The door opened after a subtle knock, one I knew all too well. Why is she even bothering to knock? It’s locked from the outside. Kade entered the room with her usual air of authority, her tall, statuesque figure clad in a form-fitting black turtleneck that highlighted her regal bearing. Her hazel eyes, sharp and observant, flickered with a mixture of contentment, control and...concern?

"Good morning, love. Hazel informed me you skipped breakfast again. You shouldn't skip meals like this. I don't want you to faint when you're walking down the aisle. I care for you, alright? For your health. And I know you definitely don't want me to force feed you." Yep. I'd rather kill myself.

"Well forgive me Your Grace, for not eating due to getting literally , kidnapped."

"I am not having this conversation again." She slumped against the couch.

"Ever thought about how I don’t want any of this either?" I watched her jaw tighten as she turned on her laptop and started working on her project, as if my words meant nothing. She always sits in this room to study, turning it into her own workspace. She even had the nerve to ‘introduce’ me to her friends on a Zoom call once, pretending everything was perfectly fine.

Ignoring my complaint entirely, she announced, "The wedding is in August, so you’ve got one month to adjust. Your classes start next Monday."

I decided to play her game and ignore her right back.

"Kade, what will happen if I kill you right now?"

"Death sentence, love." She responded nonchalantly, flashing me a quick, almost amused smile. I scoffed and leaned back into the sofa, staring out the window. "In a way, we’d be reunited," she added with an unsettling calm. God, this woman is next-level delusional.

"If you could be even a tiny bit positive about this, I might consider taking you outside."

"I’m perfectly fine here," she sighed, her eyes still glued to the screen. "Are you sure, love?"

"Yes. Very." I stood up and headed to the bathroom, seeking a brief escape from her presence. When I returned, she was still there, now on a group call with her legs propped up on the table. She gave me a quick wink before turning her attention back to her work.

I decided to use my phone while she was occupied. When she finally left, I knew she'd be back for supper and then dinner. I groaned into the pillow. The door couldn’t be locked from the inside, there was no LOCK! It was clear she’d planned this meticulously, which only made it even more stomach-turning.

As I settled in with a book, a knock at the door interrupted me, distinctly different from Kade’s.

"Can I come in?"

Who the hell--wait a minute. Is that... Princess Romana?! My future sister-in-law. NO! EW! Stop thinking that way! How did I even think of that-?!. I quickly shook off the unsettling thought and answered with a hurried "yes." I had no idea if she’d be as crazy as the rest of this family, but something in my gut told me she was different. I only knew a little about her from the media, she lived in Windsor with her own family, not here in Buckingham.

The door clicked open, and she walked in, looking just as confused as I was.

"Seriously? Whose idea was this?" Before I could even register her question, she muttered to herself, "Who am I kidding—of course it was that sister of mine." She turned to me, her expression softening. "Anyway, um, Deniz. Nice to meet you. I’m Romana, if you-"

"I know, Princess Romana... hi." Damn it, why did I interrupt her? Forget it. Why does it even matter?

"Can we have a talk, if you’re comfortable with that?" She folded her arms and gave me a polite smile, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt a sense of warmth. She felt like... home. Maybe because she was the first person I’d interacted with besides Kade.

"I-y-yes." I cleared my throat , trying my best to hold back my tears.

"Thank you. Please, have a seat." I moved to the edge of the bed, facing her, still wary of her unexpected appearance.

"I'll be honest with you, okay? And don’t be scared of me. Be as open as you want to be." She paused, her gaze fixed on her folded hands in her lap. "I read the article and was shocked at first, but then I was happy and decided to call Father about this sudden news because my dear sister wasn’t picking up. Then I got a call from someone here, someone loyal to me, who filled me in on the whole-" She licked her lips, searching for the right word-"situation."

That was the final trigger for me, and I let my tears flow.

"God, I am so sorry for what they did to you. What my sister did. I just can’t wrap my head around all of this. It’s bloody diabolical." She gave me a moment to collect myself, her eyes brimming with sympathy and regret.

"Look, Deniz, the situation between Kade and me has been complicated. We started off with a strained relationship, but as we grew older, things improved significantly. We eventually became quite close. I am thoroughly aware that she has a tendency for being stubborn. My father, as you might expect, has always had a special fondness for Kade, which has influenced many of his decisions. I wish I had known about this earlier, I would have done everything I could to intervene. Though, given his position as King, it might not have made a difference."

"It’s not your fault... it was mine."

"No. Don’t blame yourself. This is what I’m trying to explain. Kade has a habit of getting what she wants, and this time she’s gone too far. I had a huge argument with her when I arrived. She shouldn’t have done any of this. But now-" She sighed, her expression heavy with regret. "The articles are out, the press is all over it, the situation has spiraled out of control. As much as it pains me to say this, the marriage is going to happen."

It felt as though my heart was being slashed once again, and all I could do was absorb her words, powerless and numb.

"I wish I could make this better for you. Right now, all I can offer is the small comfort that Kade has failed as a person, but there’s a slim chance she might be a good partner." I shook my head violently and stood up, pacing in front of the window.

"God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. The reality is, you will have to leave this room eventually and confront the world she’s created outside. I’m not trying to manipulate you or play some sort of Stockholm syndrome game, I’m just stating the facts."

"You don’t have to keep reminding me," I snapped, frustration seeping into my voice. "She comes here every day to make sure I know just how much she’s made my life a nightmare!"

She ran a hand through her sleek black hair and nodded. "I understand. But Deniz, I’m here for you. My wife, Adelyn, is too. We’re both with you. You can call on us anytime, we’re staying here for the time being." She approached me with a somber look. "I’m your sister, okay? You can trust me. Now, come on. Let’s go outside."

Her words sounded reassuring, so I nodded in agreement.

"Can you gimme me a few minutes?"

"Of course. I’ll wait outside." She offered a comforting smile before stepping out. I sighed and wiped away my tears as I sat down to gather my emotions. I felt a bit better than before. The fact that I cried not only from my own situation but also because her presence reminded me of my family touched me deeply. She seemed genuinely honest, a stark contrast to the insufferable Kade. God, why did my stalker have to be a fucking princess? At least a normal person might have faced arrest.

(Kade's POV)

"So, you met my sister?" I was relieved to see you finally eating. It pained me to think of you outside walking with Romana and my sister-in-law as I came back from the gym, but at least you had opened up to someone here. Still, I hated it.

"What did you two talk about, love?"

"Nothing. Nothing that concerns you." It should fucking concern me. But I’ll let it slide for now, I don’t want you to go silent again. I need to keep you talking. I trust Romana to some extent, but I hope she didn’t poison your mind against me. My fists clenched under the table as I thought about how Romana seemed to have it so easy. She married the love of her life without the struggles I had to endure to be with you. But then again, what kind of love is it if you didn’t have to fight for it? It was such a bittersweet feeling.

"Look, it’s not like I’m keeping you a prisoner here. You could have gone out into the gardens any time."

"Well, I don’t think the lock on my door agrees with that statement." You slammed your spoon down on your plate, your frustration evident.

"Deniz, love, that lock isn’t meant to imprison you. You’re volatile, okay? I can’t have you breaking everything in the palace like—like you did in our room."

"Oh, how marvelous," you retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Are you still not over that? Must be so, so hurtful, right? Even more painful than being forced into a marriage? Tsk. God, one can never fathom the daily struggles of Princess Kade."

I couldn’t help but chortle at your biting sarcasm. "God, Deniz. You’re still the same."

"And you’re even worse," you shot back, your voice laden with exasperation

"I wonder what or who made me like this, hm~..."

"Yourself, Kade." I shook my head, catching a glimpse of Julian returning from his jog over Deniz’s shoulder.

"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you’re free to do whatever you want here, except vandalism. Also, I need to discuss our honeymoon trip-"

"Fuck no, Kade." I grabbed your wrist as you tried to head back inside, my frustration evident.

"No, Deniz, we are having this conversation. It’s important."

"NO! EW! How can you even suggest I go with YOU—"

"DENIZ!" I sighed in exasperation, seeing you flinch. God, this is tougher than I thought it would be. "Deniz, love, I just want you to read the schedule. Nothing more, nothing less. You can make changes if you want. I won’t say a word. I promise."

"Well, then cancel it altogether! That is what I WANT!"

"You know that’s not possible. Now please—" You swatted my hand away from your wrist and flopped back down into the chair. "Thank you. Richard." I grabbed the file from him and slid it towards you, which you snatched with your usual resentment. "Don’t ever touch me like that."

I swallowed another wave of pain and annoyance. 'No, no, no. Kade, you have to endure this. I know it’s painful, but it will get better over time. Just focus on how cute she looks reading it and how you can’t wait to take her as your wife'.

(YOUR POV)

The days began to blend into one another, thanks to the interminable classes I was subjected to. I did my best to irritate the teachers, but they remained astonishingly patient. I had never encountered such patience before. Clearly, Kade had trained them well.

Gradually, and unfortunately, I was also taken by Kade to spend time with her family. Thankfully, Romana and her wife, Adelyn, provided a calming presence, along with their adorable 4-year-old son, Idris. I knew I was, in a sense, surrendering, but what choice did I have? I was still aware, as evidenced by my panic attacks. I would never forget what Kade had done to me, no matter how loving she appeared now. I only wished she could understand that.

As my headache returned, I stumbled to the bed, desperately hoping to awaken from this nightmare the next morning. Instead, my mind replayed memories of my previous life, Kade's conversations, Romana’s reassuring words, the King's disapproving glances, and the Queen’s pitying looks. The upcoming interviews and the wedding itself loomed over me. I turned the pillow to the dry side, though it was already damp with tears.

"Just rest, Deniz. Close your eyes. It will be okay. Shhh...just call your parents first thing in the morning."

The earlier walk with Romana replayed in my mind.

"Can you get me divorced from her in the future, then?"

Romana stopped and turned to face me. "That would be possible when I become Queen. I could grant you permission. But that time seems far off, and..." She sighed. "There are other factors to consider, including Kade’s own consent."

"Fuck everything."

"Indeed." Adelyn gently patted my back in sympathy.

Part VI

(AN: Kade be like - but still loving it.)

(Meanwhile the reader)

[tesla-runner]

Genuine question would it be too OOC for me to think maybe Zhen and Chameleon had a sorta mother-daughter dynamic when zhen was at least really young. Idk if it would ever involve zhen calling her mom but I like to think they did do fun things together and there might have been a time chameleon did look at her as someone to care for and possibly nurture in a loving manner. Of course as time went on that would have faded away. Idk I just love found family stuff ah...

GOOD. FUCKING. POINT.

(KFP4 spoilers below)

As someone who grew up in a toxic familiar relationship with their mom (not anymore, luckily), when I was in the cinema, and watched Zhen and Chameleon's relationship on screen, i couldnt help but see myself and my mom on them. NO ONE WHO DOESNT KNOW THEIR APRENTICE SEES THEM AS THEIR PARENT MAKES THIS MOVE, NO ONE (sorry not sorry for shitty quality, lol)

OR TALK LIKE THIS

"Well done Zhen" "You never said you were gotta hurt him" "Whats the second rule of the streets?" "Someone always gets hurt" "And make sure is never you"

Yk what? Fuck up my sleep schedule, drabble go on! (sorry yes sorry if ooc)

"Stand up straight," said The Chameleon, slowly circling Zhen. It was already the fourth time the bulls had stopped her for stealing in Juniper City. Knowing her location and getting to her was a piece of cake, getting her out was a bit more complicated. But now out of range of possible reinforcements, The Chameleon had to have a little chat with the fox girl in front of her.

"I'm sorry," she said, tears in her eyes. The complete opposite of what the sorceress saw in her, someone ruthless and calculating. She was a child, it didn't stop her from raising an eyebrow in frustration.

"Where was your lack of fear?" she said viciously "If you're going to break the law, you should break it well. Without fear of consequences that you know won't come to you."

"Sorry mom" She tried to excuse herself, but she covered her muzzle as soon as she could realize her mistake. The Chameleon said nothing, she just looked at her like she was about to catch a bug. "Sorry, i'm sorry."

But instead of the tail lashing she was used to, she only felt the scaly skin of her tail encircling her, and The Chameleon smiling at her.

"Oh, my dear Zhen" she says in a honey-sweet tone. "sometimes I forget that you are just a child" she continues as she walks over to her and gives her a little hug. Zhen remembered for a moment Han, she skipped a heartbeat.

"Don't worry, I'll see to it myself that those bulls never capture you again" she whispers in her furry ear "if you want to be the best thief in all of Juniper City, I'll be here to help you" Even if The Chameleon's words were empty and without real emotion behind them, it was embellished and sugarcoated enough for a child to eat them up and accept them as absolute truth.

[wyvchard]

What Part of "No" Do You Not Understand?

Inspired by this thread.

Agent Phoenix is quite annoyed at the fact a certain actor can't take "no" for an answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Agent Phoenix took a deep breath as they leaned back onto the chair, prayer slipping from their lips like a lifeline.

"Dear Heavenly Father, grant Your child aid in this trying time. My flesh is weak and I need strength to overcome this."

"Oh, Agent. That's quite an adorable prayer. But you're not going to get away with that easily." He took a few steps closer, a smug grin on his face as he anticipates their resolve falling any time soon.

"You and I both know I can and I will get away that easily." They narrowed their eyes at him as they gently rubbed their wrists as soon as they cut the ropes. "Please step away before I give into the temptation."

"And why should I do that, agent? Hmmm?" He watched in amusement as they took down the jammer and lasers. He stepped closer, causing them to back away until they reached the wall.

"Please shut up before I do something stupid. Don't. Do. This. No! I mean it!" Their tone was laced with a plea, only for his ego to grow bigger.

"You won't be doing something stupid. Just let what you feel out." He felt satisfied seeing them squirm. Yet, instead of feeling them melt under the touch of his hand, he felt a sharp sting on his cheek.

"What part of 'No!' do you not understand, Mr. Juniper?"

"I didn't even touch your cheek yet. Or any part of you."

"That still doesn't count."

"Normally, people would melt at these kinds of situations. You didn't... feel anything?"

"Other than my gut instinct to punch you? Nothing." He felt incredulous, seeing someone stare at him with complete disgust. "I get that you're quite a sight and all and you do have a knack for directing heart racing scenes but what else? You're too overrated in my opinion. But then again, standing alone on stage with that much people is a skill. So points for you there, I guess. Some people do that every day on Sunday so it's not really special."

"Why are you immune to my charms? I'm an incubus. How on earth?" He was staring at them like he just heard the trumpets and they were one of its players.

"I don't know? Who knows? Maybe I got baptized as a baby or something. Does it look like I know? Ah. I'll stop here before I give you an hour long lecture about this. I have a lot of words about it."

John felt himself paralyzed under their intense stare, yet it was different from the usual ones. Far from carnal, it was the gaze of someone examining an object of interest.

"I'm sorry for slapping you hard." The remorse in their voice was enough to give him pause. "You should get that treated."

"You... aren't... looking at me like-"

"Why would I?" The disgust returned with full force. "You're a person too. And I really should apologize to that sweet old lady who told me that Hollywood is dangerous. If they let an incubus like you run around, how many more of you are out there?"

"Can I take you out on a date?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why wouldn't you? You're the first to view me as more than a sex object. Literally."

"You need better people to be around. Seriously. You do."

"And where would I find these kinds of people anyway?"

"Probably people who are too busy surviving to care about those things. I don't know. I'm too focused on stopping Zoraxis to actually give you an answer."

A sharp click interrupted the conversation coupled by a clearing of the throat.

"Agent, I see you're doing alright." Reginald gave them a gentle smile, yet clearly worried at the marks on their wrist.

"Wait. If I say I'm switching sides, will the agency consider it?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had fun with this. XD Please excuse any out of character moments.

@definitelyunhingedagentphoenix, @sml8180, I hope you enjoy this. I took the idea and practically sprinted with it. XD

@jellyfishgummy

@phoenix-and-found-family

@the-one-and-only-043

@ghostlystarwanderer

[howlingday]

Master Hunters

Taiyang: So, you walked around, saw the city, racked up some wins, and got the guts to take on your ol' coach! Heh... You gotta do what you can, grind like crazy, and not let up, not even for a second!

Taiyang: The road to the top is long and hard, but that's why you gotta take it one step at a time. And that first step you took should always be something you're proud of.

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

Pyrrha: Juniper is a smart girl. She's never attacked a human before, but...

Juniper: (Snorts, Stamps feet)

Pyrrha: She gets a bit moody when she smells a coward.

Juniper: (Steps closer, Chitters teeth)

Juniper: (In your face, Teeth baring)

Pyrrha: ...Mm. (Claps) That's it!

Juniper: (Trots back to Pyrrha)

Pyrrha: (Scratches ears) You want to be strong, right? Then never forget to always have the courage to take that first step.

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

Nora: Wow! You're pretty good at this~!

Nora: (Jumps around) Remember, Nora-chan is a thunder sprite! So if you think like a thunder sprite, you'll move like one, too~!

Nora: Now, I want you to come back and help me sometimes. I'll make you the toughest thunder sprite there is!

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

Yang: (Snaps fingers)

Yang: Yo, yo! This is Yang-O! Been rockin' n' sockin' since Beac-O!

Yang: With STYLE~! Just do it! C'mon! Crank that beat~!

Yang: Move your body! I wanna see ya move your body~!

Yang: ...No, no, no. Come on, man! Where's the HEAT~?

Yang: You gotta FEEL the rhythm! Feel it way down to your bones~!

Yang: Hittem wit dat summertime feel~!

Yang: Rock 'em up to da stratosphere~!

Yang: Give them all you got, all you love~!

Yang: Let 'em all know dat you're here~!

Yang: Yeah~! Now you've got it~!

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

Klein: I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid Miss Schnee is far too busy.

Weiss: (Taps shoulder) Please, Klein. Allow me.

Weiss: I must say, you weren't half bad... at being thrown around, that is.

Weiss: Did you enjoy it? You must have. Why else would you have come all this way again?

Weiss: Oh? I'm wrong? Then maybe you're here to do some throwing around yourself?

Klein: Miss Schn-

Weiss: (Holds up hand) There's no need to be shy. Go ahead. Try to throw me.

Weiss: ...

Weiss: (Counter-grab, Tosses down)

Weiss: Oh, excuse me... I couldn't resist such an easy target.

Weiss: Throwing is about position and timing. If you haven't figured that out yet, then perhaps you and I should have another throw around?

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

Blake: Don't hesitate. I'm ready when you are.

Blake: (Dodge, Dodge, Dodge, Dodge, Counter)

Blake: (Feint, Strike, Push)

Blake: (Dodge, Backflip away, Aerial dive)

Blake: (Jumps off head)

Blake: You're wasting your energy. Hit fast and with finesse.

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

Jaune: (Sighs)

Jaune: (Dodges, Shoves)

Jaune: (Ducks, Kicks)

Jaune: (Groans, Turns away)

Jaune: (Counters super-move attempt)

Jaune: What are you doing?! Don't just blindly fire off attacks like that! Think before you act!

Jaune: ...Hah. At least you're no quitter. Alright, I can't say no to that kind of enthusiasm. Or, at least, if I did, it looks like you'll just keep coming back and trashing my place until I don't.

Jaune: Come on! One more round!

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

Ren: (Quietly watches you train)

Ren: (Closes eyes)

Ren: (Sits, Meditates)

Ren: (Petal falls on hand, Doesn't react)

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

Qrow: Right here.

Qrow: Here, have a drink.

Qrow: Here's a toast. To the day you became a student of the one and only Qrow Branwen.

Qrow: ...What's with that look? Relax, it ain't booze! I quit the stuff ages ago. This is an herbal remedy I learned from an old friend of mine. Trust me and take a swig.

Qrow: Haha! You like it? Really wakes you the hell up, huh?

Qrow: Just remember one thing, kid...

Qrow: WE deal the beatings, nobody else!

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

Mercury: Huh? The hell is that supposed to be? Some kind of impression of me?

Mercury: ...Doesn't look half bad.

Mercury: Heh heh... Alright, you've got my attention now! NOW TRY AND KEEP IT.

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

Ozcar: ...Tell me, have you ever heard of a girl named Salem?

Ozcar: She was an immortal witch who tried to destroy the world. She said it was in vengeance for being abandoned by her gods.

Ozcar: (Disappears)

Ozcar: (Behind you) Truly, she was the most evil of them all.

Ozcar: (Knocks you to the ground) Her obsession with magic made her forget the value of the human spirit, something she'd lost long ago.

Ozcar: (Jams Longest Memory into you) Please, hold still. I haven't quite got the hang of this just yet.

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

You block, holding your arms across your body to protect yourself from the woman's might. However, she proves this ineffective by crashing her fist against your guard and easily smashing through it and cracking your chin with her devastating fist. You fly into the air as inhuman strength launches you to the sky. You fall and hit the ground as she turns to walk away.

You try to push yourself to your feet, but your body fails you though your spirit years to continue. You roll to your back, air leaving your lips as they split into a grin.

Salem: Oh? You dare laugh?

Salem: Hm... You look... Just like him...

She walks over to you, glaring down all the while with her menacing red eyes. Towering over you, she then swings her fist down, cracking the earth beneath you. Faster than lighting and harder than thunder, she easily breaks the cave floor, barely missing your head. Your body shakes with fear from the near-death you'd received.

Salem: ...Very well. I shall train you. And then, we shall see if you're still able to laugh.

[arc-misadventures]

An Arc’s Revenge

Juniper: So… Let me get this straight… There’s a kid at school named, Cardin Winchester?

Jaune: Yes.

Juniper: And, this kid tends to bully you at school.

Jaune: Among others, but it’s mostly him.

Juniper: And, he’s been bullying you by knocking your stuff over, shoving you around, and general blackmail you into doing his school work.

Jaune: He also shoved me into a rocket launcher, and sent me flying.

Juniper: H-He did what?! Okay, no… let’s, let’s just put that on the back burner for now.

Jaune: Okay.

Juniper: So, you decided to come up with a plan to get revenge on, Cardin for all the things he has done to you. Now, instead of coming up with some elaborate prank that would totally humiliate him. You decided to go the opposite route… and, fuck his mother?!

Jaune: Yeah, pretty much.

Juniper: Why the hell would you do that?!

Jaune: Well, at first at went to, Carla…?!

Juniper: Mrs. Winchester! You are not getting on any friendly ground with her bucko!

Jaune: Okay… I went to, Ms. Winchester, and asked her if she could give me any information on, Cardin. What are his biggest fears, secrets he doesn’t want exposed, things like that. She understood I wanted to get revenge for all of his bullying. But, then, Ms. Winchester purposed a plan that would really upset, Cardin.

Jaune: That I fuck her.

Juniper: Wait! This was her plan?!

Jaune: Yep. Apparently she wanted to teach, Cardin a lesson too, and she thought, ‘What better revenge can a guy get, than fucking his bully’s mom.’

Juniper: Are you kidding me?! That seriously can’t be the reason behind why she slept with you?!

Jaune: Well, she also mentioned some things about… a dry spell, sexy blonds. And, something else afterwards about being sexually satisfied? I wasn’t sure what she meant by that.

Juniper: Good gods! Okay, I’m going to have a word with, Ms. Winchester. Acheius, you go talk to your son I… oh gods…

Acheius: Jaune, I can’t believe you would do something so childish!

Acheius: Nice job out there son! That’s a pretty dame you bagged out there!

Jaune: Ehhh… What?

Acheius: And, with a woman twice your age too!

Acheius: Juniper actually wanted me to bang her to get back at the husband for what she said to, Juni. He died before I could.

Jaune: Mom wanted you to do what now…?

Acheius: I can’t believe that my son would stoop to something so low, and depraved! Didn’t I teach you better?!

Acheius: Your mom would have done it herself, but she was pregnant at the time.

Jaune: You didn’t teach me any…?! Wait, Mom would have done it?!

Acheius: I can’t believe my son would do such a thing… I am so disappointed in you…

Acheius: I’m so proud of you! Here’s 200 Lien, treat the lady to a nice dinner!

Jaune: Okay…?

Acheius: You are ground for a week… No! A…?!

Juniper: Jauney~!

Acheius: Uh oh…

Jaune: Y-Yes?

Juniper: After much consideration, and discussion with, Carla. I approve of your relationship with her.

Jaune: You do?

Acheius: Beg pardon?

Juniper: Yes, Carla is a kind, and caring widow who is searching for a lover to share her life with, and we both agree that you are that man!

Jaune: Okay…?

Juniper: So you two go on, and have a wonderful time together, okay dear?

Jaune: What the hell is going on…?

Juniper: Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a world with my new BFF~!

Jaune: ‘BFF?’

Jaune: Dad… What the fuck just happened?

Acheius: I have no idea… One moment she’s screaming at you for bedding a woman twice your age, now she getting all buddy, buddy with her; I haven’t the faintest clue what just happened.

Juniper: Oh, Jaune?

Jaune: Yeah?

Juniper: Remember: If you use a condom your pee-pee will fall off! Okay? Bye~!

JA: …?

JA: Ohhhhhhhh…

Jaune: That certainly explains the 180 she just performed.

Acheius: Yeah. Your mother has always had a thing for babies…

Jaune: I know…

Jaune: She’ll kill me if I don’t knock, Carla up within the month won’t she?

Acheius: Maine you at worst.

Jaune: Shit…

[fieldsofwriting]

What would each of the Foam bachelors/ettes cast would dress as for Halloween?

oh my gosh this is such a fun request!! I did my best with what we’ve had so far! I haven’t made it to Fall just yet in my game so I hope you enjoy!

Adeline: She is ether super last minute to the point where she has to have a basic (but still cute!) costume of like- black cat. You know where you get the kitty ear headband and dollar store tail and draw on whiskers. Simple and cute! Or- she has meticulously planned and designed an entire group outfit and they are so fashionable it’s almost insane.

Balor: His first year in town? He probably didn’t do anything special. But I can see him doing something simple at first. But slowly getting more confident as his time in the town grows. I think he’d go as a couple different things. A pirate (always a slut for the slutty pirate shirt), his d&d character, or himself but say he’s a rouge.

Eiland: Indiana Jones. I’m sorry, I know cliche but he would fuck that shit up so good. He would also use it as an excuse to talk about the museum or his findings with all the ancient stuff. Or, or hear me out- dragon. He’d totally try and go for a dragon look.

Celine: I think she’d be roped into a group costume with ether Adeline, or her family. Not by force!! I think she’d be happy to do matching and be part of a set. But if she had to go solo? I know Sailor Moon and She-ra doesn’t exist here, but definitely something of that origin. Whatever Mistria’s version of a strong female lead. She’s go as that.

Hayden: Listen. He knows it’s cliche but he’s going as the farmer and letting Henrietta shine as the real star in whatever costume she wants. He is simply the means to show her off. Or, I could see him doing a matching costume- again with Henrietta. Anything for his girl.

Juniper: She’d be the type to ether go all out, or just say fuck it and not do anything. If she’s going all out, she’s decked out as a full blown witch, Dozy is her companion dressed up like a werewolf or vampire. She probably does a haunted bathhouse.

March: If they can convince him to do a costume, he’d go all in. He has to be the best at everything- including his costume. He’d probably go as something classic like a zombie, or a horror movie guy but go all out. I don’t think he’d do anything super scary though, he’d hate to scare the littles.

Orlic: (I know he’s not a bachelor but he should be. He’s so stupid and I wanna kiss him about it.) He’s going as a rock. :3

Ryis: This one’s tough, i’m not sure what he’d go as. If I had to pick something I think he’d be a fairytale prince. Something about his soft, caring demeanor screams ‘woodland animals want to sit on his shoulders. Women would do wild shit to be with him.’ vibes.

Valen: I think she’d dress up as something simple. She strikes me as the type of lady who would prefer passing out candy to dressing up honestly. So I can see just putting on a witch hat, or a pair of ears. She’d also definitely tell the kids “remember to bruh your teeth and eat extra veggies tonight!” because of all the candy.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed!! This was so much fun to think about! And as always-

Requests are open!! Send in your ideas today!! :3

[melonsfantasyworld]

My Immortal - An Azris One Shot 🌶️

Azriel is an immortal desperate to retrieve centuries old love letters from famed archivist Gwyneth Berdara. But when he goes to get them from her, he comes face to face with the part of his past he's not ready to revisit yet. Eris Vanserra looks as beautiful as ever, with his cruel smirk and sharp words. And he's demanding the same letters as Azriel from Gwyn.

Read below for a snippet or here for the full thing.

“Gwyneth, how have you been?” Azriel asks.

“Hmm, busy. Repairing this, finding that. Same as always,” Gwyn answers vaguely, giving Azriel a hug before he enters the house.

“And your sister?” Azriel inquires, glancing around to the new art pieces decorating her walls from the last time he visited.

“She’s found something pretty interesting in the middle of Juniper City so she’ll be out a few weeks.”

Azriel only nods, letting Gwyn guide him to her office. She’s rattling off about the new books she’s found, and some repair work she’s had to do that was more difficult than usual. Azriel listens dutifully but as she opens her office door, her voice is replaced with a buzzing sound in his ears.

Standing at one of the packed shelves is the man, no the immortal, that Azriel curses the name of just about every night. Shoulder length scarlet hair, sharp cheekbones that fit the natural sneer of his full lips, eyebrows constantly peaked up in judgement, piercings up his ears that only highlight his amber eyes. Azriel almost turns and walks out the door when the face of Eris Vanserra of the Vanserra family turns to look him dead in the eye.

“Oh Azriel, this is Eris. Eris, this is Azriel.” Gwyn gestures between the two of them, seemingly oblivious to the way Azriel’s heart is going to pound out of his chest when those sharp eyes run the length of his body before snapping back up to his face. Their prolonged silence must capture Gwyn’s attention.

“Do you two know each other?” She inquires, her tone intrigued.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Azriel glares at Eris before turning to Gwyn.

“We must’ve met at a charity fundraiser for your archive, though I’m loathe to admit I’ve forgotten which. They all blend together.” He says sheepishly, though it’s all a front. Leave it to Eris to force him to cover their blunder, even though they agreed centuries ago they would deny knowing each other.

“Sure.” Gwyn doesn’t sound convinced but Azriel doesn’t worry too much. In her line of work she sees and hears oddities often enough that this flimsy excuse doesn’t makes it into the top of fifty of obvious lies she’s heard.

“Anyways, I have the letters you both requested from the archive, though there seems to be some missing. Also, no one’s asked for these letters, like, ever, so I was just wondering if you could tell me a little more about them.”

Azriel’s sure he’ll be the first immortal to die of a heart attack. He wants to scream out in protest, curse out Gwyn for dragging him in front of Eris with those letters in hand. More pressing, he’s dying to know why Eris also wanted to see those letters now.

With a glance at the other man, Azriel notes Eris’s pursed lips though his expression remains otherwise blank. Only Azriel, whose had a millennia to parse out his reactions, knows that the other man is just as thrown off kilter as he is. However, it’s Eris who answers first.